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Tuesday, 19 June 2018

Arlene’s Awful Experience

From Uniform Girls 15
Mr Sanford looked nice, she decided. Maybe 50 but still good-looking and with an upper-class charm that quite got to her. And the way he had looked at her; a certain look she was sure she caught. Well, men like that, older men, did sometimes fancy a younger girl. That was a fact, everyone knew it. And it could well be that that was partly what he wanted a girl for.
Because the actual details of the job seemed a bit hazy. She was to help in the house, a sort of maid, although naturally Arlene didn’t like that rather demeaning term, but also something of a secretary. Helping with this book Mr Sanford was writing. Arlene preferred to think of the job as mainly in this latter category: secretary to a writer. But actually she was thinking that Mr Sanford might really want her for something else. And if he did…
Older men did often fancy girls Arlene’s age, which was 17. You read it in books and also she knew a couple of girls who had had experience. Valerie Ponsfield had met this man on holiday and had gone all the way. In the back seat of his car, according to Valerie. Three times. While she was on holiday with her parents at the seaside. A couple of girls had been disapproving and Susan Granger said Valerie had probably made it up. But Arlene didn’t think that and also she didn’t disapprove. The thought of it happening to her had made her go all gooey. It had not happened to Arlene though. Not on holiday — or anywhere else. Not yet. There had been a couple of men on holiday last year giving her admiring glances but that was all. Anyway for one thing it wasn’t easy to get away from your parents: they probably thought older men were after you. How had Valerie arranged that?
But with this job it would be different. She would be in the house with Mr Sanford all day, or from half past nine until five. Proper grown-up hours and Mr Sanford would have all that time to… well, do what he wanted with her. No problems with her parents, her mother, no sneaking about like Valerie must have had to do. And also of course she would be getting paid. For the job, of course, not for the other. Her first job. A holiday job, for the summer. Arlene could hardly contain herself; if only thinking about what she would be able to relate at school next term.
The others naturally were dead jealous. They were really green when Arlene said ‘Secretary to a writer.’ Forgetting the maid aspect of course. They all wanted to know what he was like and she said, flushing slightly, ‘Really handsome — and charming. You know.’ Susan said, ‘Cripes. D’you think he’ll want to do you?’
Arlene had blushed a lot more at that and said, ‘Do you mind.’ But that was what Arlene thought. She would say, ‘No of course not. I can’t…’ At first. But then… well, Valerie had done it and so had some of the others. Arlene hadn’t, not yet. But at 17 and in the Upper Sixth next year, it was not at all too soon.
There was a Mrs Sanford of course. Arlene had been there to their house and she had met her. Quite a nice looking woman, you could say, but old enough to be Arlene’s mother. And a man like Mr Sanford, a man of the world, would not necessarily let that bother him, not the fact that there was a Mrs Sanford. Not if he saw something he liked. That was what Julie at school said, not about Mr Sanford because she didn’t know him, but in general. Mature men of the world would just take what they wanted. And Arlene didn’t mind if he did. He would presumably arrange for Mrs Sanford to be out somewhere, or send her away to her mother’s or something.
Oh yes, it was pretty excruciatingly exciting all right. Would Mr Sanford start right away? The first day?
No he didn’t. Not actually. He was hiding his feelings, no doubt, probably because there was Mrs Sanford around for one thing. In fact it was Mrs Sanford who was mostly telling Arlene what jobs to do. More than Arlene had imagined. She had thought it would be just Mr Sanford but it wasn’t. He said he didn’t have a lot for her to do right then and Mrs Sanford would find her some jobs.
But he had given her one of those looks when he said it, and Arlene had given him a look right back. Fluttering her eyelashes and also pulling her shoulders back a bit. Arlene had very good boobs for 17, everyone said so — except naturally girls who didn’t like her. So Arlene made sure Mr Sanford saw them, in her best blouse. She could just imagine Mr Sanford undoing the buttons — when he had got rid of Mrs Sanford. Arlene had gone out of the room with a proper sexy sway to her bottom. So that Mr Sanford would have something to think about, as well as her boobs.
She quickly decided she didn’t like Mrs Sanford very much. There was the fact that she was there of course, getting in Arlene’s and Mr Sanford’s way. But also she was very sharp and bossy. Arlene felt like telling her that she was supposed to be working for Mr Sanford. Helping with his book, and not doing all that hoovering etc.
The next day was unfortunately more or less the same. Arlene did get to have a chat with Mr Sanford — and he was clearly looking at her boobs — but then Mrs Sanford came in and sort of shooed her off. ‘Washing up, Arlene.’ Arlene went red with annoyance. She almost said something nasty. Who did Mrs Sanford think she was? And Arlene was supposed to be working for Mr Sanford. Maybe what she should do was go in with Mr Sanford and lock the door. Tell stupid old Mrs Sanford that they were not to be disturbed.
She was determined at least to show Mrs Sanford. And in a different way to show Mr Sanford as well. The next morning after only a little hesitation Arlene left off her bra. Put on her blouse and skirt as normal but no bra under the blouse. You could see her boobs without any trouble. Her nipples pushing out the front of her best silk blouse. Really sexy. Mr Sanford would be licking his lips. And silly old Mrs Sanford would be green with envy — and hopefully go off to one of her friends to tell about ‘the awful youth of today.’
Arlene had another sudden thought. Even more heady than the bra one. She hesitated… and then slipped her knickers off. She would go without them. Just for the no doubt fantastic feeling — to be in Mr Sanford’s study with no knickers on. But if, just by chance, he should decide to slip his hand up her skirt… Arlene gave a little squeal of scarcely controllable excitement.
Mrs Sanford was out in the garden first thing, Arlene saw her out there, so she decided to strike while the iron was hot. Right away. Going in and starting talking to Mr Sanford and batting her eyelids and letting him have a good look at her boobs in her blouse that you could clearly see through. And then she decided in her excitement to go for broke as it were. Just to make sure. She ‘accidentally’ tripped over a chair and fell down on the carpet. As she fell Arlene pulled her skirt up, so that… well, so that Mr Sanford would get a real eyeful.
He did. He got an eyeful all right. Arlene lay there for some long seconds, gasping and with her legs just anywhere. At that very moment Mrs Sanford walked in.
‘Whatever are you doing, Arlene!’
And it was Mrs Sanford hauling her to her feet, not Mr.
‘Come with me. Whatever do you think you’re doing. And what…’
Mrs Sanford had obviously seen the absence of knickers. You could hardly miss it, with the way Arlene had been lying. And no doubt she also noticed the absence of a bra too. She was gripping Arlene’s arm in a way that really hurt, and dragging her out of the room. ‘Come with me at once, madam!’
She dragged Arlene upstairs, and produced a pair of knickers. Put these on and stay here until I come for you.’
‘Here’ was the bedroom. Arlene, rather dazed by all this action, pulled the knickers on. They were horrible navy blue ones — heaven knows where they’d come from. Whose were they? Arlene shook her head. Somehow her plan hadn’t worked out quite as she had expected. And… what now?
What now was Mrs Sanford striding back into the room. With a cane in her hand.
‘Right, young lady. What you need is a lesson in proper behaviour. If you want to act like a little tart I know how to deal with you. Get that skirt off. And then get those knickers down.’
Arlene couldn’t believe her ears. Or her eyes. That cane. Which now whipped sharply in across the side of Arlene’s knee.
‘Come on, you little hussy. Or I’ll strip you myself.’
Oh Christ! Where was Mr Sanford? He wouldn’t let Mrs Sanford do this to her. Especially after she had let him see everything. But Mrs Sanford was nowhere around. It was just dreadful Mrs Sanford who apart from anything else was quite a bit bigger than Arlene. Arlene wailed that she wanted to go home. Mrs Sanford’s answer was to hit her with the cane again.
‘If you prefer I’ll tell your mother how you’ve been behaving. Like a common little tart. I’ll write a letter to your school and you’ll get thrown out. How would you like that, or your parents? But actually. I would prefer to deal with you myself. So get moving.’
Arlene doing it. Because there didn’t seem any choice. Taking her skirt off and then, feeling sick, sliding the knickers down off of her rounded rump. That cane. But it wasn’t the cane, not at first. Dreadful Mrs Sanford obviously wanted something more personal. She was sitting on the bed. And pulling Arlene down across her lap. Gripping Arlene’s hands behind her back in a hand that was a lot stronger than Arlene’s. And then… Mrs Sanford’s hand on Arlene’s soft and tender bottom.
Arlene had of course imagined Mr Sanford’s hand on it. On her bare bottom. Stroking and fondling. Julie had had a man stroke her bare bottom and she said it almost drove you out of your mind. Arlene had imagined it. Mr Sanford doing it. But this was Mrs Sanford.
She started off sort of stroking it in the same way that you might imagine a man might. Just stroking. But then… all at once it was vicious, hard smacks. Slamming in. Slamming the breath out of poor Arlene.
Dreadful shrieks and howls. Like a little kid. But Arlene couldn’t help it. Mrs Sanford was killing her. She was struggling and writhing but Mrs Sanford was much too strong. And just kept on blasting her hand down as hard as she could.
Arlene had never felt so awful in all her life. Treated like a little child. Over Mrs Sanford’s lap with her knickers down. What would they sat at school, if they ever found out? She was standing now, on tottery legs. Mrs Sanford had at last stopped. At least it was over. She could pull the knickers up over her bright pink bottom.
But was it over? Mrs Sanford had got up… and now had that cane in her hand. Arlene had forgotten about the cane, or at least assumed she had decided not to use it. But… Mrs Sanford was telling her to lie on the bed.
‘On your front. Unless you’d like the cane somewhere else than on that brazen bottom.’
No! Not after Mrs Sanford had already beaten the daylights out of her with her hand. But Arlene’s desperate pleadings produced only another quick cut of the cane.
Get on the bed, Arlene.
Oh God! Oh Jesus Christ! That cane. The spanking had been dreadful enough but the cane. Killing. A red-hot poker. Like it was going to cut her in half every time it came down.
Arlene hopping around when at last it was over. Rubbing at her tortured flesh. At those poor suffering cheeks. And making humiliating blubbing sounds.
‘Think that will teach you a lesson, Arlene? To behave yourself in future?’
Arlene didn’t answer. Couldn’t. She was dead, devastated. Well, perhaps not dead. If she was dead she wouldn’t feel so bad. She was worse than dead. The pain. Not to mention the humiliation. And somehow she would have to face Mr Sanford. Who would know…
But actually…
Mrs Sanford went out soon afterwards. She said she was going shopping. It seemed like the first time she had gone out while Arlene was there. But Arlene wasn’t going to go and see Mr Sanford. Oh no, not after that. She would hide away, find something to do, until it was time to go home. She couldn’t face seeing him ever again.
But Mr Sanford came and found her. In the kitchen where she was hiding. He looked sort of excited. He knew what had happened and… he wanted to see. He wanted to see her bum where Mrs Sanford had spanked and caned her. ‘Don’t worry, my dear, my wife won’t be back for ages, so just relax.’ His voice was very excited and Mr Sanford’s hands seemed to be trembling as he pulled her knickers down.
Over his lap. She was over Mr Sanford’s lap with her skirt up round her waist and her knickers down. Mr Sanford had his hand on her hot bottom. And then, Oh Christ! he had his hand…

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