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Sunday, 13 May 2018

Looking Back – Part 3

From Blushes 24
That evening. Henry Ashley had been sorely tempted to show his old mate Bernard the ‘Black Book’ he kept. His hook of reminiscences; the book which often took him back twenty-five years or more. Back to Marston’s Teacher Training College, where he had been Deputy Head and, thus, in a position to indulge some rather private pastimes which took his fancy.
On reflection, Henry was glad he had not given way to temptation. In the first place, Bernard — though he was a lecherous old bastard — may not share his predilections. Those, of course, being the exposure of a young woman’s bottom, bare ready for punishment. In the second place, it would be very difficult for an outsider to get much enjoyment from this book. It was simply a collection of entries, with dates, and brief notes concerning what was to occur or what had occurred. Such items would mean little to anyone who had not lived through the actual experiences.
As Henry had.
Everything was in his mind; there to be enjoyed, over and over again. All it needed was the spark which his book always provided. As he so often did, late of an evening when a friend had finally left, he took it down from its place on the shelf.
He riffled through the pages. Ah, there was Wendy again. Lovely 19-year-old Wendy. She had been a frequent visitor to his little room… since she was a young woman determined to pass the exams for her Certificate of Education, even though she was distinctly short on academic brain-power. She was one of the few students of whom he had retained a snapshot. It was faded but still showed her charming features. Not, unfortunately, those features Henry would have preferred to keep as a lasting memento. Those, need it be said, were her luscious hindquarters.
Only recently he had been reminiscing on that 12 stroke caning he had given Wendy — simply for the opportunity of having a brief look at her English Paper. It had been a most memorable occasion and, by and large, Wendy had taken her penalty well. Henry smiled. All the more unfortunate for her, then, that there had been changes made in that very English Paper only a couple of weeks later. He had thought it only fair to advise the young woman of the fact. His mind went back to that evening.
Back to that small room, alongside the gym, where he had caned her a fortnight previously. She had come in nervously, wearing a white, singlet-type blouse and a colourful white, yellow and blue skirt. And the pearls she had worn the time before. Wendy seemed very fond of pearls. Perhaps she thought they made her appear ‘debbie’. However, Henry considered her more ‘earthy’ than ‘debbie’… with a body that was mature beyond her years.
‘I am afraid I have some bad news for you, Wendy,’ he said sadly. But feeling far from sad.
‘O-oh… what’s that then, sir?’ She had gone a shade paler and her body tensed.
‘I’m afraid they’ve changed two of the questions on the Intermediate English Paper.’
He saw her head droop and her lower lip pout. So, he could imagine her thinking, I’ve gone through all that, a fortnight before, for nothing. It wasn’t fair! He had to agree about that, especially as he’d actually had a hand in changing the questions.
‘That’s rotten,’ said Wendy.
‘It’s only two of the questions,’ said Henry. ‘I’ve got them here.’ He tapped the envelope on the table.
That lower lip pouted further; there was a hint of anger in those lustrous eyes. ‘I’m not having any more of that cane,’ she said.
Henry shook his head. ‘Oh no… of course not, Wendy. You paid quite a price. I was thinking that just a simple spanking might suffice. Nothing serious, you understand. Then you’ll be sure to pass.’
He could see her considering. Well, a spanking wasn’t all that bad. Rather humiliating, naturally, but it didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as a cane. ‘What… a beastly thing… to do…’ She was near sobbing. Had she guessed that he had been largely responsible for having those questions changed?
‘Well… a spanking or not, Wendy?’ He was a little tense now. He had an intense desire to expose this young woman’s behind once again. Right that evening. Then to slap it, of course. But, above all, it was the exposure he wanted.
‘Not too hard… I mean… I’ve paid once…’
‘Not too hard,’ he reassured her. Henry seated himself on the wooden bench on one side of the room. ‘Come along, my dear, let’s get it over with.’
Wendy’s features were hard with resentment as she crossed the small room. Well, he had to admit, it had been rather a dirty trick. But she shouldn’t have such a delicious bottom. Far too tempting! The colourful skirt came up before she bent over his thighs. A little pair of white briefs and a rather saucy red suspender-belt holding up her stockings. Most fetching. His fingers went to the elastic of those briefs, hooked, then slowly but firmly pulled down. The well-rounded curves of those buttocks were exposed naked. His pulses raced. Just what he had wanted. It was impossible to prevent himself running his hand over her warm flesh.
‘Stop that!’ Wendy spat out, twisting. Henry was aware she would accept a spanking — but going any further was definitely out. He had no option but to go along with that.
‘A couple of dozen, I reckon,’ he said casually.
‘Oh no… that’s far too many…’
‘I don’t think so, Wendy. Think of the end product.’ Henry laid on the first stinging slap. Hard. He was just in the mood. Wendy gasped and, at once, threw back her hands. Henry gripped her wrists. ‘No need for that,’ he said. ‘It’s not a cane, just my palm.’
‘Ohh… but that h-hurt…’ Well, he had hit rather hard.
Ssllaaapppp… ssslllaaapppp!
Henry hit hard again. Twice. And Wendy bucked and twisted at the two stinging impacts. ‘Ooow… owww… oh please… not so hard!’
Oh how often Henry had heard that plea! And how often he had quite ignored it!
Sslllaaaapppp… slllaappp… slap!
On whatever bouncing cheek that took his fancy. What a marvellous young bottom it was! It had surely been designed for such treatment.
‘Oowww… oowww… please oh please…’ What plaintive cries!
Henry began to get into an enjoyable rhythm. A smack on the left cheek… a smack on the right… then an even more resounding smack across the centre. The resilient flesh spread as his hand made impact and it juddered and quivered as this hand came away. All the time it was getting redder and redder.
He had lost count. He must be well over the dozen mark. Maybe eighteen.
‘S-stooo…oppp… that’s enough!’
Might as well give her another half dozen, he thought. Just to make sure.
Slllaaaapppp! Ssslllaaaapppp!
Puffing and blowing, Henry stopped spanking. Probably he’d given her more like thirty, he thought, looking down at the still quivering bottom, now a blotchy red all over. He could hear the girl sobbing quietly.
‘That… mmmfff… mmmfff was m-more… mmfff,’ she complained.
‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ said Henry airily. ‘Now, Wendy, up you get. I’ve a final piece of discipline for you before you get your paper.’
‘W-what’s that?’ The girl came up, wet-eyed and startled.
‘Just kneel on that stool and face me,’ said Henry. ‘Keep your skirt up and your knickers down.’ He saw momentary fury, followed by resignation. Wendy knelt sulkily. Seating himself, Henry had an excellent view of her glowing bottom in the mirror behind her. He kept her kneeling like that for two or three minutes before he handed over the paper.
Wendy took it almost greedily. Well, she’d certainly earned it, hadn’t she?
He flipped through the pages and arrived at the mid-sixties. An entry caught his eye. It read:
‘Decide to have a punishment horse made. Usually I make them kneel on a chair or bend over a table, but a proper piece of equipment would be a great improvement. There will be a slight difficulty about getting it made. I shall go outside the College maintenance staff and have it built privately, calling it a junior vaulting horse. That, in effect is what it will be — the top section of an actual vaulting horse. Will make a small drawing and go and see some local carpenter tomorrow.
Of course, I shall have to keep the thing hidden, since other people use the room during the day and might wonder what it was doing there. Or what it was intended for. Can’t take any risks like that. The store cupboard will be large enough to take it. I’ll keep it locked in there and I’ll be the only one with a key. Like now. For its in there that I keep those disciplinary implements which are not at all to the liking of those young ladies who have to visit me on certain evenings.’
Henry turned a page of his record book — and there was his original drawing of the horse, with measurements detailed. A simple enough thing but bringing back many vivid memories. He turned several pages and came to an entry which recorded the arrival of the horse. He remembered the thrill he had got by just running his hand over the padded top before locking the thing out of sight. Then he had begun to think of which of his young ladies would have the doubtful privilege of ‘christening’ it. The next entry recorded his decision.
‘Decide that it shall be Sandra. She is now nearly 20 and on her last term. She is the naughtiest of all. Her past record is a disgrace and I am, most fortunately, in possession of the facts. She is desperate to keep them secret now that she is approaching her Finals, which she will certainly pass. A word or two from me to the Head and she would have wasted two years of hard work. And ruined a promising career.
I got all the ‘sordid details’ from the Games master at her school. It seems, when she was just 17 and in the sixth, she more or less forced him to have an affair with her. Not that he was exactly reluctant, but he knew it was dangerous and he wanted to keep his job. And his wife. Afterwards, it seemed, Sandra tried to blackmail him.
To look at her, you’d never imagine she’d do a thing like that. Still, it’s all been to my advantage. I reckon Sandra’s paid twice as many visits to my little room than any of the others! I’ll tell her to be there at eight o’clock this evening. The usual time.’
Now Henry recalled that evening well. He recalled it, as he had done often enough before, with considerable pleasure. Certainly more than any memories dear old Wisden might have aroused.
There came a knock on the door. Henry unlocked it and there she was. Looking very apprehensive — as well she might. He beckoned her in and re-locked the door.
‘I…I was here only last week, sir…’ she said in a protesting little voice.
‘That’s right, Sandra,’ he said. ‘But you are rather a special case, aren’t you?’
She pouted at that. ‘I don’t see why…’
‘Oh yes you do. Illicit affair, then blackmail. A fine chance you’d have if anyone found out.’ She pouted again at that.
‘It’s not fair,’ she said petulantly.
‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ he said.
‘W-what are you… going to do?’ Her apprehension was growing.
‘Introduce you to a new piece of equipment, Sandra.’ He smiled at her startled look. ‘Specially designed for naughty young ladies.’ There was hopeless fury in those young eyes. How she would have loved to have thrown herself upon him; clawed him. Yet she dare not. Several times she’d offered herself to him in the hope of escaping chastisement but he’d always turned her down. Tempting but too dangerous. Anyway, he reckoned he got just as much pleasure out of watching her squirm.
‘You… you’re a monster…’
‘Not at all,’ replied Henry calmly. ‘I’m simply an agent for retribution.’ Then he went to unlock the cupboard, pulling the horse into the centre of the small room. He heard her give a little gasp. ‘Well designed, isn’t it?’ he remarked, patting the top. She said nothing. ‘Well, let’s try it out, shall we? Pull up your skirt and bend over it, please Sandra.’
‘It… it’s horrid…’ she said. Yet, as she had done so many times before, she pulled up her skirt, exposing a pair of tight briefs, then hoisted herself up over the side of the horse. Her thighs pressed to one sloping side, her arms ran down the other.
‘Excellent,’ Henry almost sighed. ‘That gives a most excellent uplift.’ It certainly did. That fine bottom of hers thrust up to the maximum. Most inviting. Henry considered. Should he strap her? Or cane her? Why not both? He could use the strap with her bent over as she was at that moment, then make her straddle the horse to get the cane. Yes, that would be most satisfactory.
‘W-what are you going to d-do?’ she asked in a strained voice.
‘Take your knickers down to start with,’ replied Henry, with a casualness he did not exactly feel. Sandra was a curvaceous young woman; very mature for her age. Little wonder that Games master had fallen for her charms. He heard her expel her breath angrily as he tugged down the briefs. She always did that. Nowadays anyway. At first there had been a lot of protesting and even resistance. But she’d given that up when she realised it only made him treat her with greater severity. The briefs settled at the tops of the thighs, leaving fulsome buttocks quite bare. They had a faintly rosy look about them — the result of her previous visit. He’d had her over his knees and given her a really sound spanking. Thirty hard slaps at least. There had been a lot of tears and his palm had felt sore for days. What about her bottom then? ‘I’m going to strap you, Sandra,’ he announced, seeing the soft nates give a little twitch. ‘Nothing too serious. Just half a dozen strokes.’ She’ll be relieved at that, he thought. On the other hand, she doesn’t yet know she’s going to get the cane afterwards. He’d keep that as a little ‘surprise’.
He went to his cupboard and took out the double-thonged strap, tapping it on his palm. It was quite a meaty piece of leather. Stung like hell, you could see that.
He laid it lightly over Sandra’s bottom, seeing the nates twitch again. Henry was never in a hurry, liking to draw a punishment out, realising how it stretched the nerves.
‘Only six weeks to go now, Sandra,’ he said. ‘Then you’ll be free of all this.’
‘Yes… yes… I know… ohhh… get on with it!’
‘Don’t speak to me in that tone, young lady,’ snapped Henry, ‘or you’ll get a dozen, not half a dozen. And you address me as sir.’
‘O-ohh… I… I’m sorry, sir…’ He loved making her grovel verbally, knowing just what it cost her.
‘I should think so.’ Henry withdrew the strap, raised it high and brought it thwacking down with a full sweep of his arm. It was a really good, hard stroke, clean across the centre of that up-curving behind.
‘Yeeooowwwww…!’ came the anguished cry, as the hindquarters bounced and squirmed frantically over the top of the horse. A bright red swathe of flesh ran over the juddering buttock-cheeks.
Henry waited a good twenty seconds or so, seeing the flesh constantly flinching in anticipation. Oh how he enjoyed that! Then he laid on the strap again, just as hard, but a little lower down on the cheeks. There came another series of yelping howls and, once more, Sandra squirmed uncontrollably over the top of the horse. It was good to have her hindquarters thrusting up so well, he thought, curving conveniently at just the right height. This was certainly a great acquisition.
‘P-please… no s-so hard…’ came the whimpering plea.
Henry smiled faintly. He liked that, too. He said nothing and again kept the girl waiting. The next stroke he would lay on the join of thighs and buttocks. That should make her jump.
It certainly did. Sandra came up like a leaping salmon off the top of the horse and clamped her hands urgently to the new burning swathe of torment. Her head jerked up and round towards him as she writhed in pain.
‘No…oooo…oooh… I can’t stand it!’ she cried out.
‘Don’t be silly, Sandra,’ he said, ‘you’ve stood a lot worse.’ Which was true. Still, he had to admit, he was laying into her really hard. Perhaps he should ease up a little as she was due for a caning as well. ‘Only three more,’ he said. He gave them to her at long intervals, not quite so hard but, since they fell over the previous swathes, they must have hurt just as much. If not more. Certainly from the gasping cries which filled the room… and her kicking contortions… it would appear so. It made Henry thankful that, very early on, he had taken the precaution of having that small room secretly soundproofed. Even though it was well away from the main college building, such anguished cries could easily have been heard.
Sandra lay over the horse, sobbing, shoulders heaving, hands pressing to the burning red flesh. She moaned despairingly. She was certainly suffering, but she was going to suffer more yet. Henry went into the adjacent washroom and returned with a large wet flannel. ‘Take your hands away,’ he said. Nervously, the girl did so. Then she gasped out with relief as the cold water cooled down her burning flesh. ‘Nice, eh?’
‘Yes… ahhh… yes… yes… sir…’
‘Do you know why I’m doing this, Sandra?’
‘Be-because… it hurts s-so…’
Henry grinned. ‘Well, not exactly. You see, very shortly, I’m going to cane you…’
‘Oh no… you couldn’t… you wouldn’t!’ Her eyes were wide with pleading.
‘I’m afraid so, Sandra. Such wickedness as yours must be punished.’
‘But… but it was all so l-long ago… oh… sir… and I’ve been a good girl since…’
‘So you say.’ Henry removed the flannel and patted the wet flesh. ‘Now we’ll have those knickers right off, young lady.’
‘P-please… please… sir… no more I beg you!’ Sandra was literally on her knees arms outstretched.
‘Knickers off,’ ordered Henry firmly. Sandra had got into this kind of state before but, in the end, she had always taken what he intended to hand out. It only needed the simple threat of exposing her past to persuade her. He watched the small knickers pushed down; he watched her step out of them. There was a time when she had always covered her bush, but now she was no longer bothered. He had seen everything she possessed all too often for there to be any point in trying to be modest. ‘Now come down to the end of this thing,’ he said.
She moved stiffly, hands still on her sore bottom. Tears were running unchecked down her cheeks. ‘P-please… please… l-let me off…’ she kept saying.
‘I want you up on the end of this,’ said Henry. ‘Straddling it. Just as if you were riding a real horse.’
She looked at him, fury as well as fear filling her eyes. Both were well aware how she would be exposing herself. Colour flooded those wet cheeks. Henry turned back to the cupboard, replaced the strap, and took out a cane.
Returning, he saw that Sandra was already in position, her bottom looking much wider. ‘Just six,’ he said, tapping the taut flesh. The sobs were constant now.
‘Mmmmf… uuurrrfff…’
He laid on a wristy cut; not too hard. She wouldn’t be able to take a lot with her flesh already so tenderised. All the same, it produced a gasping-yelping cry… and several convulsive twists of those splayed buttock-cheeks. A quite, quite fascinating spectacle, thought Henry.
Tap… tap… tap. ‘Please… please… no…ooo…’ What made them plead, even when they knew it was useless?
Another wristy cut; again not too hard. Yet it made that most attractive bottom bounce and squirm deliciously. What a display!
‘O-ohhh… ahhh… stop it… stop it… I can’t stand any more… ahhhh… sir… I just can’t!’
Tap…tap…tap. ‘You don’t want me to have a word with the Head, do you, you silly young woman?’
‘No…ooo… no…ooooo!’
She certainly didn’t, reflected Henry as he brought down the third wristy cut. It raised an encircling pink weal, twin-tracked, but not as vivid as it would have been if on unreddened flesh. That bottom shuddered and twisted left and right. ‘A-aaaaagh… oooh… oh how can you?’
An odd question, he thought. I can because I’ve got an iron hold over you, young woman. Like he had over all the rest of them. It was the only way. The only way you could make a young woman take her knickers down and present her bare bottom to you. There had to be a very definite incentive!
‘Get nearer the end of the horse,’ he ordered, ‘you’re beginning to slide up it.’
Sobbing, Sandra moved herself back, her buttocks projecting nicely. The cane cut into the soft flesh again. Another gasping shriek; more jerking and juddering. Lucky for her, he said to himself, I’m not laying into her as hard as I well could. He thought of the others who, before long, would also find themselves over that horse. It was an enchanting prospect.
He gave Sandra her final two strokes in quick succession… and much harder. Shrieking, she twisted right off the horse and fell to the floor with a heavy thump. For a moment, Henry was worried that she might have hurt herself quite considerably. He rushed around to commiserate, placing one hand on a very hot bottom when he arrived.
‘Are you alright, Sandra… not hurt?’ Mmmm… that bottom felt nice. Very. There was no reply. Just sobs. Yes… the girl was perfectly alright. A bit bruised on one side, maybe. But what did that matter compared with the state of her bottom?
‘Would you like the flannel again?’
‘Yes… mmmfff… yes please… mmfff… sir…’
Henry returned to the washroom and was soon applying a delightfully cold layer of water to most tender flesh. Sandra moaned gratefully. Once again it was all over. Once again she had survived the shame and the pain. Henry nodded almost sympathetically. This young woman, in the last year, had surely paid dearly for her wickedness.
Henry closed the book and rested his head on the back of the armchair. What memories! Did he feel any guilt, or remorse? None at all. He had taken the trouble — some years later on — to find out how Sandra’s career was progressing. Exceedingly well, it seemed. She was already in line for Assistant Headmistress.
Would that have happened if he had not dealt with the girl as he had? There she was, definitely an incipient criminal… and he had quite reformed her.
She’s probably married now, with grown-up children, he thought, a shade wistfully. He wondered if she had learnt sufficient from his own disciplinary methods to apply them herself.