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Tuesday, 12 June 2018

Gillian’s Special Lessons – Part 2

From New Blushes Uniform Girls 2.18
Gillian standing in front of Mr Hinkley in his small, claustrophobic study. It is Thursday now. A repeat of her first visit, on Tuesday? Gillian doesn’t want to think about Tuesday — or what is to happen today. Just think that Mr Hinkley will get her a nice job — if he can have his little pleasures. She is in her school blouse and skirt again. Also as on Tuesday she came here today in her cardigan but was instructed to take that off, it is lying out there on the sofa in Mr Hinkley’s sitting room. One little thing is different though. Under her school skirt Gillian has as requested put on a pair of navy school-type knickers this morning rather than the white ones she normally wears to school. Well she wants to cooperate, doesn’t she? And she certainly doesn’t want that cane. If she can avoid it.
The cane is here again. Mr Hinkley, sitting on his chair, is holding it. Toying with it. Like a boy with a favourite toy. Gillian swallows nervously.
‘Good,’ he says. ‘And are you, ah, dressed as I requested?’
Gillian knows what he is referring to. The knickers. She nods. ‘Yes, Mr Hinkley.’
Well that is what Mr Hinkley wants, isn’t it? Does he have a thing about those sort of knickers? He taps the cane on the desk.
‘Good girl. Let me see then. Take your skirt off please.’
Yes. She has been expecting it. And what will come afterwards? Gillian, face reddening, unfastens her skirt and takes it off. To stand in front of him in her blouse and the navy knickers. The knickers are an old pair because Gillian doesn’t wear them nowadays and they are tight, a size too tight at least. The navy cotton is tight over the bulge of Gillian’s pussy. Mr Hinkley’s eyes take it in. The bulge — and is it possible to make out the cleft? The split of Gillian’s sex.
‘Good,’ he says. ‘Very nice. A nice tight fit. Not too tight, I trust, my dear. Between your legs I mean. Your business there.’
Gillian swallows nervously. ‘Come here. A bit closer,’ he tells her.
She steps forward. He wants her close. Nice and close. She can guess for what. Yes. His hand there. She trembles. His hand cupping the bulge of her pussy through the navy knickers.
‘Not too tight here…?’
She makes herself stand still. His hand is sending hot shivers through her. Well naturally. A man’s hand holding your pussy does do that, no question. His finger slides along her cleft.
She can feel herself sweating, but she must stand still. ‘Ye… Yes… They are a bit t…tight…’
Mr Hinkley rubs her cleft for a bit. She bites her lip. Feeling herself getting wet. Then the hand comes away.
‘Yes. Good girl. Well you can take them down now. We’re going to want them down, aren’t we?’
She stutters, ‘N…Not the cane please sir…’ But she is obediently slipping her knickers down.
Last time he caned her twice. Two strokes of that cane on her bare bottom. Just so she would know what it was like, he said. What it was like was killing. Like sitting on a hot stove or something.
She stands straight in front of him again, her knickers halfway down her thighs now. Having to stand showing him her pussy like this. She blinks her eyes, trying to keep calm. Her pussy is wet, Mr Hinkley has got her all hot and bothered. From what he has done with his hand. Not to mention the threat of that cane.
Eric Hinkley’s keen gaze takes her in. Her nervous eyes. The pretty, full-lipped mouth. And her pussy of course, on show to him now below the hem of her white blouse. Yes, a very choice girl. He shifts his position on the chair. His penis is stiff. Well it is very arousing. The business of tutoring, disciplining, a choice girl. And when you know now, after her first session, that she is going to take it. Submissively, more or less, with no grand scenes. Yes very arousing. He shifts again, easing the tension on his stiff penis.
He holds the cane out to her. ‘Hold it a moment.’
Gillian unhappily takes the cane. It feels almost hot in her hands. Her knees go weak as she remembers the searing cut of it on her bare bottom.
Mr Hinkley tells her to turn so she is facing her bare bottom to him. He is getting up from the chair. His hands take hold of her bare bottom. Holding the trembling cheeks. His voice husky in her ear.
‘We’ve got to have a bit of the cane, Gillian. Just a bit, at least. It’s a requirement of the disciplining. But I’m sure nothing you can’t take, eh?’ His hands are moulding the bare flesh of her bottom-cheeks. He says again, ‘No, nothing your bottom can’t take.’
She doesn’t answer. He is still fondling her bum. There is no point pleading, is there? Then his hands leave her bottom and grip her arms. Mr Hinkley pushes himself against her. She feels the hard bulge against her bottom. His erection. He rubs it against the soft flesh. Then lets go. Pushes her away.
He wants the cane back. Mr Hinkley clears his throat. ‘Right.’ He sounds more business-like. After his little indulgence, ‘We’ve got to get on, haven’t we? Tuck your blouse up. So your bottom’s fully on display. It’s part of the discipline, to display it. And then we’ll do a bit of typing.’
Gillian, with her blouse tucked up, is given a bunch of keys. She is to get some papers out of the cabinet, and then go to the typing table.
As she stands at the cabinet, fiddling for the right key, Mr Hinkley comes up behind her again. His hand once more at her bottom. But this time it goes further. In between her legs. She gives a little squeal, but doesn’t try to resist. The hand pushes and she obediently parts her legs, within the confines of the constraining lowered knickers. The fingers touch her wetness. Her breath comes out in a trembly gasp. But it is better than the cane, isn’t it? Letting him do this. His fingers. Sliding in. She squirms. Maybe he won’t want the caning…
He takes the hand away. His wet fingers. ‘Have you got that open yet.’
His hand slaps sharply on one bottom-cheek. It comes right out of the blue, after what he’s been doing. And also hurts. She yelps.
‘Ooooowwwwhhhh…!!’
‘Come on then.’ He whacks her again, on the other cheek.
She gives another squeal, as her hands scrabble with the keys. She gets the cabinet open. Pulls out paper and shakily inserts it in the typewriter. Mr Hinkley, looming behind her, says she is not to sit down, she must type standing up. So that her bottom is fully available for treatment. His hand smacks her again, and then he takes hold of the cane. He taps it against her bare bum. She gives another panicky yelp…
He tells her to type: Dear Mr Smith…
Standing like this, bending over, it is very difficult. And Gillian’s fingers are anyway all nervous. On the paper appears Rear Mt Smi…
CRACKK…!!
Her bottom of course, in this standing position bending over, is a ripe target. And Mr Hinkley’s cane has hit the target spot on. Slicing in across the crests of her thrust-out bottom-cheeks. Christ!
‘Aaaiiieeeeooowwww…!!’
‘Smarten up then. Start again.’
To encourage her the cane whips in a second time. This time she springs up straight, desperately clutching her stricken bum.
Mr Hinkley brusquely knocks her hands away from her bum. ‘Come on. Stay in position. Or I’ll have to give you a proper caning. And you won’t like that, young lady.’
No she won’t! A proper caning! It sounds quite impossible. Gillian gives a desperate little cry. She must try again at the typing and really concentrate this time. While trying to ignore the fact that her bottom is red-hot and crying out for her to rub it.
This time she does manage to get Dear Mr Smith OK. But as she continues the errors creep in. She gets more panicky as each one appears. She can imagine Mr Hinkley giving her a stroke of the cane for each error, although he hasn’t actually specified this.
‘I…I…I’m trying my v…very best,’ she stutters. ‘I just c…c…can’t help…’
He tells her to stop. The cane pats her bottom.
‘We’ve got to have something. To smarten you up, Gillian. I’m going to have to cane you. Four strokes, but more if you don’t take them properly.’
He tells her to bend further over. And get her hands behind her back, holding her blouse as high as possible.
Gillian wails but is sharply told to shut up. Does she want a double dose?
Whimpering, she does as she has been told. Bending with her face not far from the typewriter keys now. Mr Hinkley’s hand at her bottom. Fiddling around. Groping in fact. Groping the cheeks, and then delving in underneath. Gillian obligingly parts her legs. But although Mr Hinkley clearly enjoys the fiddling and feeling up it is not going to stop the other. That cane…
Not much later it sizzles in.
THWATTT… !!
----//----
Gillian still in the study but now sitting on one of the chairs. Waiting for Mr Hinkley to reappear. He has gone to make some tea. Will it be time to go soon? She doesn’t know the time. She has no watch on and there is likewise no clock in the room. Gillian is still wearing her blouse and shoes and socks but no longer has her knickers on. She had to take them off when Mr Hinkley wanted to examine her. On the desk. A routine check, he said, such as presumably her doctor gave her from time to time. He said when he has a girl for tutoring he always likes to check. Her pussy. He wanted to know if Gillian had started doing it yet.
She had shaken her head. No. Then Mr Hinkley asked about Andrew. He seemed to know about Andrew Cantlin, that she went out with him. Did she do it with Andrew? Again Gillian, a bit red-faced, shook her head. Well, Mr Hinkley said, he needed to check anyway. As he was tutoring her now.
And so she had to get up on the desk. Take her knickers off and get up on the desk. Lying on her back. And part her thighs. Looking up at the ceiling and trying not to think as Mr Hinkley’s fingers probed her. In her pussy. She was getting wet again of course, as he did it. It was supposed to be a check, just an examination, but Mr Hinkley was playing with her. Stroking all the really sensitive parts. Her clit. And she couldn’t help it, couldn’t control herself, he made her come.
‘You are very sensitive,’ Mr Hinkley said. ‘You’ve certainly been stimulated before, young lady, there’s no point denying it.’
Gillian mumbled something. Mr Hinkley made her answer clearly. And finally made her admit that she did let Andrew play with her. Play with her pussy, and her tits. But they hadn’t started doing it.
Did Mr Hinkley believe her? But with all his examining and what he’d been doing, she thought he must know. Well wasn’t a girl different there once she’d started?
She was all shaky when he finally helped her up off the desk. Her legs all rubbery. From what he’d been doing and also before of course. He’d given her five with the cane just before he’d had her up on the desk. Now he is in the kitchen making some tea. He said she wasn’t to put her knickers on again just yet.
Shortly Mr Hinkley comes in with the tea. He sits down at the other desk. Actually the time is getting on, and it will soon be time for Gillian to go. She drinks her tea still without her knickers on. Why isn’t she to put them on again yet?
Mr Hinkley says she will have to go soon. But perhaps there is time for a further caning?
Gillian gives a frantic squeal. Mr Hinkley looks serious, then laughs. It is his little joke. He is not planning to cane her again today. But… he wants her to leave the navy knickers with him. She can put her skirt and cardigan back on but is to go home without knickers.
When Gillian gives a little yelp at this prospect Mr Hinkley tells her to be quiet — or he will get the cane out again. It is another test of discipline: going home without any knickers on. And also when she comes next time, which is Saturday afternoon, she is likewise not to wear any knickers. The navy knickers will be here waiting for her. If, that is, Mr Hinkley decides she needs to be wearing any.
‘Is that alright?’
It is not alright, but Gillian is not about to argue. Not with the threat of another caning.
‘Yes. OK,’ she mumbles.
When they’ve finished the tea Gillian can put her skirt back on and then, in the sitting room, her cardigan. Yes, she can go now. In the hall Mr Hinkley runs his hand up Gillian’s skirt to her bare bottom.
‘Behave yourself now,’ he tells her as he has a final fondle. ‘No playing around with that Andrew Cantlin. Or anyone else for that matter. While I’m tutoring a girl I don’t want her getting into any of that business.’
----//----
Naturally Gillian is thinking about this when Andrew comes round later that evening. Mr Hinkley’s instruction that she is not to mess about with him. But of course it is up to her because there is no way Mr Hinkley can find out. It is the same with her parents, they always say the same thing. But they can’t be watching her all the time, so a girl has some freedom to make her own decisions. And she does let Andrew do things — as she was forced to admit to Mr Hinkley. And she could let him tonight, if she felt like it. Does she feel like it?
Those two sessions with Mr Hinkley of course have been pretty devastating. So that she can hardly think straight. Awful sessions, yes. But not completely awfully awful. Awfully arousing you could say, for part of it at least. That examination he did on his desk. Well it was awful, yes. But she came. Christ. It makes her go all hot just thinking about it.
‘Gillian…’
‘Oh! What?’ She has been dreaming. Well, thinking about Mr Hinkley. She has another session on Saturday afternoon. More of the same, it is bound to be. Oh Christ…
Andrew wants to smooch. And get his hand up her skirt. At her pussy. But Gillian doesn’t think she wants it. Not after Mr Hinkley.
She pushes the hand away. ‘Behave Andrew.’ She bites her lip. ‘Look. Don’t you want to know about Mr Hinkley?’
‘Yes!’ Andrew answering eagerly. But does he want to know? If those stories are true he doesn’t.
Gillian turns to look at him. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t know, Andrew Cantlin. It is private, you know.’
Andrew looks a bit crestfallen. She laughs. She is in control with Andrew of course, because he is so keen on her. It is a complete contrast with Mr Hinkley. Mr Hinkley is in full control with her. He can do just what he wants. Gillian shivers, thinking about it. She is feeling a bit more sexy now.
‘No, I can tell you, Andrew. We did some typing and other stuff. And he said he’s pretty sure he can get me a job, if I work at it.’
A look of relief on Andrew’s face. So there was none of that other business! The fact is the thoughts have kept coming to him, of Mr Hinkley doing those things to Gillian, and it’s been pretty sickening. ‘That’s great.’
‘Yes. Isn’t it.’ She snuggles into him. And now Gillian is more cooperative. Andrew’s questing hand is allowed some freedom. And a bit later Gillian is sufficiently cooperative to raise her bottom and allow her knickers to be slid down. Yes she is wearing knickers now. After having to walk home from Mr Hinkley’s without any on under her short skirt. That was scary. But also a bit of a turn-on?
She opens her legs and lets Andrew’s hand get at her pussy. It’s what Mr Hinkley said she was not to do of course. Gillian gives a little moan.
----//----
Saturday afternoon. It is cooler today and perhaps because of that Mr Hinkley has a nice cosy fire going in his sitting room. Gillian has arrived in her school uniform under a light coat. And under the uniform? Under her school skirt?
That is what Mr Hinkley asks when she has taken her coat off in the hall and been ushered into the sitting room. She knows what he means of course. She flushes, and gives an affirmative nod. Yes, she has done what he wants. Standing now nervously in the cosy sitting room she has no knickers on. She has obediently come here today not wearing any.
But Mr Hinkley wants to confirm for himself of course. His hand slides up under the front of her skirt.
‘Ah yes. Good girl.’
His hand has taken hold of her. Gillian trembles. Mr Hinkley’s hand holding her bare pussy.
‘I can see we’re learning discipline, Gillian. A good sign.’ His hand squeezes. ‘And today we’re going to do quite a bit more in the discipline line.’
He fondles her pussy some more, before taking his hand away. Then he tells her what they are going to do.
First of all he wants her to change. Mr Hinkley wants her in just a vest, together with her shoes and knee socks. He produces a white sleeveless vest. Gillian is to take off her skirt and blouse, and her bra, and put the vest on.
‘Well it’s nice and warm in here, isn’t it?’ he says. He laughs. ‘No chance of catching cold or anything.’ His hand come up behind her and fondles Gillian’s bare bottom.
And then when she has stripped down the way he wants her he has got something else. He shows her. A bell, on a thickish cord. It is as big as a coffee cup and made of steel. He lets her hold it. It is quite heavy and gives off a sonorous ring when the clapper strikes. Gillian hands it back, wondering of course what is to be done with the bell.
Mr Hinkley tells her when she has stripped down and has the vest on. The vest is quite short, not reaching much below her waist. Gillian stands rather self-consciously in it, automatically pulling it down at the front in the thought that it may stretch down to cover her bare pussy. It doesn’t of course, nowhere near, but the stretching does serve to pull it tight over her nipples, making them stick out.
Yes Mr Hinkley tells her. Or rather shows her. He fastens the cord round her waist so that the heavy bell is behind and dangles down below her bottom. The weight of the bell pulls the cord firmly in between the cheeks of her bare buttocks. Mr Hinkley tells her to stand with her legs astride.
He gives the bell a gentle push and it obediently produces its resonant ring. Mr Hinkley laughs and tells Gillian to put her hands down at her sides. He reaches to fondle her pussy again.
‘It is a disciplinary measure of course, my dear. When you move the bell will ring. And you mustn’t allow it to ring.’
Gillian looks at him nervously. Her heart is racing now. She still doesn’t really understand.
‘When I cane you, of course. Today we are to have some proper caning. And if you can keep nice and still, take it in a disciplined manner, then it won’t be a particularly long session. But any ringing of the bell, caused by significant movement, will I am afraid prolong the session.’
His hand continues to fondle her pussy. Gillian is quite wet now. ‘Is that all understood, my dear?’
Gillian doesn’t answer. Her mind is whirling. A proper caning session! Which if she can’t keep really still could go on and on…
Confirming this thought Mr Hinkley says, ‘You must keep still. I shall be caning you quite hard of course. That’s necessary for discipline. But you must control yourself and keep quite still.’
----//----
Sunday afternoon and Gillian is round at Andrew’s house. The rest of his family are out and they are on the sofa in the sitting room. Gillian has a heady feeling. There is still very much the memory of yesterday of course. That caning! Wearing just the vest and with that bell hanging below her bottom. It was awful. A proper caning Mr Hinkley called it. Christ! And then afterwards. The rest of it afterwards…
Yes she has a really heady feeling. Sort of light-headed, as if she doesn’t really know what is happening. Andrew is wanting to smooch of course. Does she want to?
She knows what she wants. She feels her heart racing.
‘Andrew…’
‘What…’
‘Look, stop it for a while. I want to talk to you. Tell you something.’
‘What?’
‘Look if I tell you something you won’t ever tell anyone else. If you were to ever breath a word I would never speak to you again.’
Andrew looks at her. She adds fiercely, ‘I mean it, Andrew!’
‘No. Of course. Cross my heart.’
‘OK.’ She takes a deep breath, to try to calm herself. Can she really tell him…?
‘Andrew. Those things people say. About Mr Hinkley.’ Her voice is jerky, agitated. She gives a jumpy little laugh. ‘Well they’re true of course. He does do those things.’
Andrew’s face for the moment is blank. He is unable to take in what she is saying.
‘Yes he does. He canes you. He’s caned me ‘ She shivers. Is she really saying it? Yes! ‘On my bare bottom.’ The nervous laugh again. ‘He’s caned me on my bare bottom, Andrew. And the rest too. The other things. He’s a proper dirty old man, Mr Hinkley.’
Andrew can’t believe it. His face is all red. He says automatically, ‘Wh…What other things?’
‘If you ever breathe a word… I’ll never speak to you ever again.’
‘No. I won’t.’
She gives the slightly hysterical laugh again. ‘He plays with my pussy. He gets me up on his desk and plays with my pussy.’
Andrew swallows. He can’t really believe it. But of course it has to be true, Gillian wouldn’t make it up. It is sickening… but at the same time he has a stiff erection. His cock was stiff before but now it is really surging. Gillian can see what state he is in. She slides her hand onto the bulge in his trousers.
‘It’s given you a hard-on, hasn’t it. Me telling you.’
He protests that it hasn’t, it’s nothing to do with it. Gillian is pulling open his zip. Pulling it out.
‘Well, he is going to get me a job. And if he doesn’t I could probably tell on him. But if he’s going to get me a job, well, he wants something for it, doesn’t he.’
She has Andrew’s cock out now. Stroking it.
Andrew’s mind is a blur. His stiff cock close to coming and all the other in his head. Mr Hinkley doing those things to Gillian. Then through it all he has another thought. In his head he can see something else.
‘And wh…what else. What does he make you do?’
Because in his head he can see Gillian doing this. What she is doing now. Wanking his urgent cock. He can see Gillian wanking Mr Hinkley’s cock.
And then maybe even the other. What she has never done to him of course. Her head down in Mr Hinkley’s lap.
He blurts it out. The question. Gillian’s eyes meet his. Her face is all flushed now. He thinks that maybe she won't tell him anyway. Whether or not she has. Gillian moistens her maybe dry lips. And bends her head close. She kisses him. She is still wanking him and he is right on the edge. Going to come at any moment. Her mouth moves to his ear.
He hears the words just as he spurts out.

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