‘Arnold!’ Mr Thorning says into the phone. ‘Hello. Harold here. How are you? What…? Yes she’s here right now with me.’
Janet is standing at the side of Mr Thorning’s chair. He is holding the phone in his left hand so that his right is free for Janet. The hand is up under her short skirt caressing the back of one silky thigh. Janet is a very pretty girl with thick lustrous chestnut-brown hair and a shapely figure: a slim waist and nice firm tits pointing out the front of her white blouse. She is Harold Thorning’s toy-girl and a very choice one, 18, not long left school.
‘Yes she’s all ready. And looking quite delightful may I say. She’s got her new outfit on but I won’t describe it. Let it be a surprise. Anyway Roberts will be setting off with her any time now. And what about your Delia?’
Janet hears faintly over the phone that Delia has already been sent off — here to Mr Thorning’s. She squirms. Mr Thorning’s hand tickles. It is now between her legs, which she has obediently parted slightly, on the soft inner-thigh-flesh where a girl is sensitive and ticklish. The hand is also threatening to go higher between Janet’s legs. She makes a little groaning sound.
Janet’s new outfit resembles that of some sort of Scottish airline stewardess: a short greeny-blue tartan skirt, the buttoned-cuff white blouse which has little blue epaulettes, plus a blue tie. However where one would expect an airline stewardess to be wearing sheer stockings Janet has white ankle socks with her shiny black medium-heel shoes. Both Mr Thorning and his friend Arnold Falgrove like girls in little white ankle socks with their legs bare and as Janet is being sent to Mr Falgrove for a few days, in exchange for his Delia, well, the little white socks are not surprising.
Mr Thorning’s hand has reached where it was threatening to go: the warm, slightly moist haven right at the tops of Janet’s thighs where the taut crotch of her knickers is. It is primarily what the crotch of the knickers tightly contains, of course, that very sensitive business, the most sensitive business, that is causing Janet to make her gaspy ‘Eeeek!’ and squirm her thighs and bottom.
Harold Thorning doesn’t move his hand out just because Janet is Eeeek-ing and writhing a bit. He instead fingers more firmly. He has put the phone down now. ‘Keep still,’ he tells her. ‘You’re like a regular eel. What is it: excitement at going to Mr Falgrove? Maybe I should ring him again and tell him to give you a quick dose of the cane as soon as you get there. Calm you down a bit.’
‘No! No thanks.’ She tries her best to keep still. Mr Thorning’s hand is still toying with her; if he wants her to keep still he shouldn’t really do this. Though of course he may in fact feel like giving her a little touching-up with the cane himself before she goes off to Mr Falgrove, and making her squirm about will give him a nice excuse. A toy-girl who hasn’t been very long with a gentleman, who is still being taught the ropes, needs to be touched-up with the cane at quite frequent intervals. As Mr Thorning has more than once pointed out to Janet. She has been with him for three weeks and this is the first time he has exchanged her with a friend’s girl. So perhaps Janet is a bit excited at the prospect: staying three days with Mr Falgrove. She has met him once when he visited. Mr Thorning made her do a little dance for Mr Falgrove that she’d been learning. Mr Falgrove seemed OK.
Harold Thorning grunts noncommittally, then takes his hand away and gets to his feet. He is quite big, heavy, about sixty Janet would guess, retired from his business and able to devote himself to his little pleasures: his splendid garden here in the stockbroker belt of Sussex, his books, and not least his toy-girl. He has just the one, unlike some gentlemen who act like gluttons with two or three in the house at the same time. Harold Thorning, though he could easily afford two or three — or more — is happy with just the one. One carefully chosen one. If after a while he gets a bit bored with her he can simply pass her on to a friend on a more permanent basis and look for another. He certainly doesn’t feel like that yet, nowhere near, but he is at the stage when loaning her to his friend for a couple of days appeals — as the prospect of having Mr Falgrove’s Delia for a day or two also appeals. Harold could have taken her over himself… but it also rather appeals to let Roberts, his chauffeur, drive her over. Roberts of course is rather keen on Janet himself but he has not been allowed to indulge this keenness. Not yet.
Roberts is at the moment outside checking tyre pressures on Mr Thorning’s Daimler. Arthur Roberts, chauffeur and also general handyman when there is no chauffeuring to be done, is in his thirties, tall, with his dark hair to be seen when he is not wearing his chauffeur’s cap sleeked down with hair oil. Janet does not like him. He fancies her of course but naturally she is off-limits, so he contents himself with saying mocking things and is not above painfully pinching her bottom when the occasion — and Janet’s bottom — presents itself.
She had complained to Mr Thorning from time to time about this but he tends to take a laid-back view. ‘It’s so pinchable, Janet, that’s the problem. Poor Roberts no doubt simply can’t resist it.’ And Mr Thorning will then give it a pinch himself.
Harold Thorning is in fact pinching it now. Not a particularly hard or vicious pinch such as Roberts’ finger and thumb might impart but a pinch nonetheless. Standing in the middle of the drawing room with his arms round Janet, his left hand holding her skirt up round her waist, his right one alternately massaging and pinching the ripe rear cheeks through her navy-blue cotton knickers. A farewell hug for his delicious toy-girl. Feeling a little pang no doubt that for three days she will not be his but will be at the disposal of his friend Arnold Falgrove. And not only that, there is the other thing he has arranged. That little jeu d’esprit, that bit of extra excitement; is he sure he wants to do it?
‘Maybe I should give it a final something before you go,’ Mr Thorning says gruffly. His ticker is thumping just a little. He is referring of course to the firm and succulent bottom that his hand is mounding. Janet says a shivering ‘No thanks.’
Yes the old ticker is thudding a bit. Harold Thorning is not sure even at this late stage that he really wants to — or can stand it. He wants to but also he doesn’t is the problem. But he is going to, he has decided. And he’ll drop a little bombshell now. Give her something to think about as she gets in the car with Roberts. He says it softly in her ear, keeping calm, or more or less.
‘Roberts will be stopping over en route, Janet. We decided it would be too fatiguing for him to attempt the whole journey in one day. We want you to arrive all in one piece, don’t we? I’ve left the arrangements to Roberts. Overnight I mean. And whilst you’re with him he will be in charge. You’ll do just as he says. All right, Janet dear?’
Yes it is a bombshell, as the possible, indeed likely, implications come into view in Janet’s head. There is no immediate answer as she takes in this shaking news. To make things quite clear — and to feel that extra little tingle himself — Harold adds: ‘I’ve told him he has charge of you for this one occasion. I’ve told him if he thinks it necessary… he can smack you, Janet.’
And to make it very, very clear he adds, ‘I’ve told him he can take your knickers down. Or pyjama bottoms as the case may be. And smack your bare bottom.’
There. He’s said it now, there can be no changing his mind. His heart is thudding. It is like a delicious knife-thrust in him. Because of course once Roberts has been told that he will certainly do it. Do that… and possibly more. What else more? To Harold’s darling toy-girl. The toy-girl has found words. Desperately voiced.
‘No! Tell him he can’t! Roberts is hateful. He’s always pinching me. He’ll…’ Janet shrinks from voicing just what Roberts, given this green light, may do. Unthinkable things. Things certainly worse than spanking her bare bottom which itself is unthinkably awful. Mr Thorning does it of course and Janet does not enjoy it. But horrible smarmy-haired Roberts with his claw-like fingers…
Harold Thorning gives the squashy bottom another delicious pinch. Delicious for him at least. What exactly will Roberts do…?
Janet still can’t believe it. What Mr Thorning has said. He is waving goodbye as the Daimler rolls down the driveway on this nice sunny afternoon. She is sitting next to Roberts in the front. Janet wanted to get in the back as she does when Mr Thorning is also travelling and out of arm’s reach as it were, but Mr Thorning said no, in the front with Roberts. ‘More companionable, eh Roberts?’ And smarmy-haired Roberts, cap on at the moment of course, certainly agreed with that. He glances at her now and gives a little laugh. Janet slides her bottom over, to be farther away. Why can’t she be in the back rather than have to sit in the front with the chauffeur. She’s Mr Thorning’s girl. That can be bad enough, being a gentleman’s girl companion, but a nasty common person like Roberts… What is going to happen when they get there, to this hotel? That is the question she can’t bear to think about but at the same time it won’t go away, not for a moment.
Roberts slows at the gate, then pulls out into the lane. ‘Got to be a good girl then, Janet. Is that what Mr Thorning told you?’ Roberts’ precise but uneducated voice, as Janet thinks of it. Well he’s not educated. He’s common and… randy. Oh God.
‘Is it, Janet?’
She mumbles a ‘Yes.’ She doesn’t want to talk to him. She doesn’t want to be here with him. Mr Falgrove, that won’t be so bad. Mr Falgrove is a gentleman even if he may want certain things.
‘Well you remember that, young lady. Got to be nice and friendly. And do exactly what Mr Roberts says. Otherwise… did Mr Thorning tell you? Mr Roberts has got to cane your bottom.’
Janet lets out a frantic little yelp. Mr Thorning never said the cane. ‘No! You can’t. You… wouldn’t dare…’
Roberts reaches over for her leg. Janet is as far away from him as possible but Roberts has long arms. He pats her leg. ‘Move over here. Closer. That’s not being friendly. Or I might have to do it now. Stop the car and take you out and take your knickers down. Do you want that?’
Janet makes a moaning sort of sound… and then moves back, closer to him. Roberts is diabolical, the pits. ‘Right over,’ he orders. ‘Come on.’
She has to do it. He couldn’t really do what he said, could he? But Roberts is so horrible nothing is impossible. His hand comes down on her legs again, with Janet nice and close now. Pulling her skirt back. Janet tries to hold it down.
Roberts smacks her hand. ‘Don’t do that. Don’t be naughty.’ Janet hesitates, then lets go of her skirt. ‘Look… You’ve got to watch the road. You’re not… concentrating. We’ll crash…’
But awful Roberts is watching the road which anyway is quiet here because they’re not on the main road yet. But this doesn’t stop his hand… which is now at Janet’s crotch, the tartan skirt pushed up above it. She squeals as he pinches the soft flesh of her thigh. The hand at last moves away, back to the steering wheel. Janet ruefully rubs her leg.
Not looking at her Roberts says, ‘Take ‘em off, Janet. Get your knickers off.’
She gives him a darting look. He’s joking. He can’t…
‘Get ‘em off, Janet. This is just a little test, to see if you’re obedient and that. Get ‘em off or I’ll stop the car and give your bare bum a real roasting with the cane. You won’t want to sit down for a week. You won’t be able to.’
‘Look…’ Janet begins. Roberts is unbelievable, worse even than she had imagined. ‘Get ‘em off,’ he growls again — and he is clearly not joking. Face scarlet, Janet slides her hands up under the skirt. To work the knickers down off her hips. She’ll tell Mr Thorning when she gets back. She certainly will. But right now… well if he’s got a cane, and Roberts is awful enough to stop the car and take her out and cane her in a field or somewhere. Even though she can’t believe Mr Thorning would allow it. But Mr Thorning is not here… Janet raises up her bottom to allow the knickers to come down.
‘Right off,’ he says giving her a sideways glance. ‘Now you’re doing better, Janet. Being sensible, aren’t we?’ She is bending forward to slip them off over the ankle socks and shiny black shoes.
‘That’s it. Here.’ Roberts is holding out his hand. For the knickers. Tight-lipped, Janet hands them over. He takes the knickers, waves them about, then tosses them over his shoulder in the back. That nasty mocking laugh comes again.
‘How does that feel, Janet? Nice and airy around the pretty bum? And everything else I reckon. Not that you’re not used to it; Mr Thorning has them off often enough. Eh? Doesn’t he?’ His hand is back on her bare thigh.
‘Get off!’ she yelps. ‘Stop it. Look.’
‘Get your hand away. Unless you want me to stop the car. Maybe I should stop. You just won’t take any notice and keep struggling around. You’re not behaving at all, Janet. Yes, I’m going to stop.’
‘No!’ Janet can sense that he wants the excuse. She takes her hand away. It’s better to let him do what he wants to do… Better than the other: a caning in a layby or something. Roberts’ hand slides up, pushing her skirt back. Fingers between her legs. She lets him do it. And he does. His hand right there. If that’s what he wants… The hand feels her. She lets it happen, forcing herself not to push it away. At length it does come away.
‘No, it’s no good. It’s too late. I can’t let you off; you were behaving really badly. We’ll stop and find a suitable spot. I’ve got a cane in the back, and Mr Thorning said I was to take no nonsense.’
Janet’s frantic squeals do no good. Roberts is looking for somewhere. Very shortly he slows as they approach a side road, and turns into it. Janet is making frantic noises and is told to shut up, or she’ll get a double dose. A little further on there is a lorry turning place, deserted now. ‘This’ll do nicely.’ They pull off.
‘No! Someone could come along,’ Janet squeals. Roberts says that’s no problem, they can go in the trees behind the open space. With the car now stopped he slides his hand back up under Janet’s skirt which she has pulled down again.
‘Did he give you it this morning? In the tutoring room?’ Roberts asks.
Mr Thorning likes to do his caning or tawsing in what is called the tutoring room. He doesn’t do anything that could be called tutoring there, just the caning or tawsing or perhaps making Janet stand in a corner waiting for a caning or tawsing. Standing perhaps with her knickers pulled down and her skirt held up round her waist. Or maybe her knickers right off, as Janet has them right off now. The room has a little wooden desk that Mr Thorning uses for the actual business. Bending Janet right over it so that her hands touch the floor on the other side. That desk and an armchair for Mr Thorning to sit on if he feels like it are the only furniture in the tutoring room. It is just a spare room really, undecorated and awful. Awful partly of course because of what Janet knows is going to happen when she is sent there. It has a small window and sneaky Roberts likes to be accidentally on purpose outside if he suspects Janet is going to be given the treatment. Because Mr Thorning wouldn’t think to draw the curtain. Janet said once, ‘Can’t you draw the curtain. That awful Roberts could be looking in.’ But Mr Thorning only laughed.
In the car now parked in this deserted spot Roberts’ hand is up under Janet’s skirt where of course there are no knickers. Just Janet. Her furry nest. Janet is not trying to stop his hand, she is being cooperative, her legs loosely apart. Because maybe he’d rather do this than cane her. More pleading — though it is sickening to have to plead with awful, common Roberts. Roberts, though, is not interested in the pleading. He tells her to shut up. He’s getting a bit of randy pleasure now, with his awful fingers, and then he’s going to get some more pleasure. With that cane.
He makes her stand up against a tree for it. Makes Janet tuck her skirt up round her waist and then stand with her legs apart facing the tree and with her arms round it.
‘That’s nice. Very nice, Janet . Not the same as Mr Thorning’s little desk. eh? But maybe a nice change from that. A change of position.’ His awful laugh. ‘A change is as good as a rest they say.’
And then that cane… the cane Roberts has taken from the car boot, one of Mr Thorning’s canes presumably. That cane… zipping in.
A blood-curdling yell.
The hotel is a three-star, a quiet looking country place. ‘I’ve got two rooms for myself and my niece,’ Roberts says at the desk. He is not wearing his chauffeur’s cap of course and maybe he doesn’t think he looks like a chauffeur. Janet wants to say loud and clear, ‘I’m not his niece. He’s only a chauffeur and a randy and vicious one at that. He’s planning to do vicious things to me here.’ But if she does say that… well, it wouldn’t really help. There’d be real trouble when they got back to Mr Thorning. If she’d made a big scene. So… she had to keep quiet. A sweet smile at the woman. Janet has her knickers on again now, Roberts perhaps afraid her skirt might slip up or something and people would get suspicious: a man with his niece who had no knickers on.
The two rooms are adjoining and there is an interconnecting door. Roberts has requested that of course. There are locks… but he has the keys. In Janet’s room with the door closed behind them Roberts grins at her, like a Cheshire cat faced with a bowl of cream.
‘I wonder if we should give it another warming up?’ he says in that horrible mocking tone. ‘To make sure it knows what’s what. I’m talking about that pretty bottom of course, Janet. I mean it’s hours since we gave it the cane.’
Janet lets out an anguished yelp. Roberts hasn’t brought the cane in the hotel with him but he’s got something else equally sickening. A tawse. Mr Thorning uses both and Janet knows that a tawse across a girl’s bottom can be quite as bad as the cane. Roberts hasn’t done anything again on the journey. Not caning or anything. Not since in those trees. He’s referred to it as few times in his nasty joky manner, though. Would she like another little stop? But he hasn’t. His hand has kept messing about, and Janet has had to put up with that. But anyway she’s been mostly thinking about now: when they get to the hotel. What Roberts was going to do…
‘No!’ she gasps. ‘No! Look… I haven’t done anything.’
‘That’s a matter of opinion. You’ve been very cheeky ever since Mr Thorning got you. Very hoity-toity, young lady. So you need to be taught a lesson. OK?’
‘No. I won’t be like that. Really. Not any more.’ It’s sickening having to grovel but what else can she do? ‘I’ll be really friendly. Honest. I’ll make a point of it. Please… Mr Roberts.’
‘Really friendly?’ Roberts is sitting down on the bed. ‘How friendly is that?’
‘Well… just very friendly.’
Roberts shakes his head. ‘That doesn’t tell me a lot. How friendly? Look, take your knickers off. Then tell me.’
‘No…ooo… You’ll… give me the tawse.’ Janet is standing in front of him. Squirming.
‘Not necessarily. We’ll see. Get ‘em off. Come on, sharpish. If you’re not sharp I’ll have to, won’t I?’
After some further hesitation the navy-blue knickers come off. Janet stands dangling them from one hand. Roberts tells her to come closer. Close in front of him. Janet thinks about it, then steps forward. His hand reaches out to her skirt, tugging her in close. ‘That’s better.’
‘Now then, Janet. How… nice…?’ Roberts’ hand of course is slipping up under the front of the tartan skirt. She whimpers. ‘How nice, Janet… are you going to be?’ The hand takes hold of her. The furry brown bush.
‘Shall we give her bottom a little touching up, Janet? Before we go down for a bite to eat. Give her bottom a nice warming?’
‘No! No… please…’
‘Well what then? What can we do before it’s time to eat. Something that will show… how nice and friendly we are?’
Janet doesn’t answer. Roberts tugs at her skirt. Pulling her close to the bed. ‘You could put your pyjamas on. Be more comfortable in them. Or just the pyjama jacket. With it unbuttoned of course, so I can see how pretty you are.’
‘No… please…’ Janet is half lying on the bed now. ‘Look… Can’t we go down… To eat… or have a drink…?’
‘A drink, Janet? I don’t know that you should have any drinks. Not a naughty girl who’s not friendly.’ He is taking off his jacket. Janet, lying on the bed now, eyes him, biting her lip, holding down her skirt. She doesn’t want that bloody tawse. No way. But if not…
Roberts comes down. On the bed. Janet’s pulse is racing. Horrible Roberts. His hand slides up her skirt of course. She doesn’t try to stop it… lets her legs slide apart. So that he can… get his hand where he wants to get it. She shivers. She’s wet. Mr Thorning… does it but not very often. He’s not often in the mood it seems. Sometimes Janet feels like doing it of course, like any girl of 18. When she feels like that, in bed say, well, if she really feels like it she can do it to herself. Not that she really likes doing it, or likes that thought of doing it at least.
Roberts… She has known Roberts would like it. To get at her. But Roberts with his pinching fingers is just the chauffeur. And Mr Thorning naturally wouldn’t let him, a gentleman wouldn’t let his chauffeur get at his girl. Naturally. But now…
‘Show me,’ Roberts says softly with his fingers in there where she’s all wet. ‘Show me you’re friendly. A nice kiss.’
She makes a groaning sound. Roberts’ mouth on hers. Close up like this… She’s not really been close up like this with Roberts. She lets her mouth be pushed open by his tongue. At least… he doesn’t smell or anything. Not like some common people. Her pulse is racing all right. Roberts’ tongue filling her mouth now. And his fingers… the fingers that like to pinch her bottom… the fingers are really getting her going. At least it’s not the tawse… or the cane. Mr Thorning…
Harold Thorning is having a pre-dinner drink with a friend. His thoughts, though, are of Janet. Janet with Roberts. They’ll be at the hotel now. Janet having a bath before dinner perhaps? And Roberts…
Harold is not so sure he is keen on his exciting idea now. It’s exciting all right, it makes his heart thud to think of it, of what is happening right now. And he’s not at all sure he wants that sort of excitement. If he’d booked the hotel himself he could ring up. Speak to Roberts. Tell him to go straight on to Arnold’s, right away, he’s not to stay the night at the hotel. But Harold doesn’t know the hotel, he deliberately chose not to know it so that he couldn’t try and stop things. Anyway if he could ring up… it might be too late by now. Roberts already, by now, is…
Yes. Roberts is. Janet making sounds that are, pretty certainly, more of pleasure than of anything else. Underneath Roberts, her hands gripping her shoulders. Yes, it’s better than the tawse. And a girl of 18 can feel like it, can get all aroused, hot, and let it happen. Even if it is a chauffeur.