By Johnny Chesham from Janus 29
The hissing cane bit hungrily into the quivering flesh of her buttocks…
Wendy winced, her eyes screwed up tight, her sleepy mind wandered; just remembering the last thrashing she had received at St Jude’s High School for Girls was an agony. Still it was all over now she reflected as she slowly climbed out of bed and pulled on a soft, worn pair of navy blue knickers under her white cotton night dress.
She patted her seductively curved buttocks with a smile as if to reassure herself, then pulled the night shirt over her head revealing a delightful pair of ripening, milky-white breasts. As she shook her sleepy head her long blonde hair rippled around her ivory shoulders and the morning sun streamed into the dormitory seeming to ignite flashing sparks in her luxurious, golden curls.
For any seeker of the ideal schoolgirl Wendy Wilson was a dream come true.
Rubbing her eyes she pulled on knee-length white socks and a crisp white blouse, then a short navy gymslip which she tied round her slender waist with a red sash. She stepped into her flat leather sandals and walked gracefully down to the washroom.
She returned with her deliciously pretty features gleaming and radiating the loveliness of her age. She brushed out her shining hair, carefully knotted her striped tie and finally put on the crowning glory of the St Jude’s uniform — a soft gabardine blazer of red and cream stripes with the ornate school badge on the breast pocket in bright gold thread.
An hour later Wendy was in class with her form-mates for the first lesson of the morning. Today was a half holiday and Wendy’s mind wandered as she thought over her plans for the afternoon. These plans centred on a meeting at Telfords Cove, a lovely but dangerous nearby beach, with one Johnny Western, the handsome stable lad and son of the head butler.
‘Wendy Wilson, will you kindly pay attention to the lesson!’ Miss Scott-Forbes’ stern voice rang out.
Wendy continued to stare into space with a dreamy expression on her lovely face. It was a glorious day, they could swim together, Telfords Cove was out of bounds so no one would be there, then they could sunbathe and who knows…
The form waited in amused silence as a stern command to ‘Stand up, Wilson!’ brought no response from Wendy who was looking through the window with faraway blue eyes. Elaine Simmons, who shared a study with Wendy and two other girls, nudged her friend in the back nervously as Miss Scott-Forbes’ voice thundered.
‘Wilson, come to the front of the class immediately!’
Wendy, still dimly remembering her unpleasant dream of the night before, suddenly blinked with a start as a faint giggling broke out in the form. Miss Scott-Forbes rapped her desk thunderously with her ruler in a manner which brought instant silence.
‘I take it you have no interest in Macbeth, Wilson?’ the Mistress intoned sarcastically.
‘No, Miss Scott-Forbes… I mean… er, yes, Miss,’ Wendy stammered, falling neatly into the trap.
‘Come here, girl!’ the Mistress bellowed as a mood of fear fell on the class and girls looked studiously at their books.
‘Extend your right hand!’ Miss Scott-Forbes snapped with fierce authority, her pretty eyes now blazing.
As Wendy held out her trembling hand Miss Scott-Forbes raised the ruler high and suddenly brought it down with a loud SLAPP across the shaking palm.
‘Yeowww!’ Wendy let out a shriek of shock despite herself but before her cry had ended the thick ink-stained ruler slapped down again into her stinging palm. In quick succession Miss Scott-Forbes lashed down the ruler with the energy of immense anger. Wendy’s lovely face winced as her palm throbbed under the shower of blows.
The silent class looked on in awe at the fury of the punishment and the anguish of the offender. Wendy bit her lip as again the ruler fell. A short pause, Wendy gasped with relief, then to her dismay: ‘Extend your left hand!’
Feeling tears beginning to form in her lustrous blue eyes Wendy obeyed.
CRACKKK! The ruler slammed across the joints of Wendy’s slender fingers as she let out a piercing howl.
‘Silence, girl!’ the Mistress thundered, lashing down the ruler again on the same spot, now a blazing red band. Again and again the merciless ruler bit into Wendy’s burning palm, the Mistress bringing it down with all her power in high speed bursts.
‘I hope that will teach you to pay attention in my class!’ Miss Scott-Forbes barked as she slammed the biting, stinging ruler into the wailing schoolgirl’s pulsating palm.
Tears streamed down Wendy’s soft, pink cheeks as she howled and sobbed bitterly, her face wincing grotesquely in a vain defence against the pain which broke through like a great, unstoppable tide.
Finally seeming to collect herself, the English Mistress tapped the potent ruler gently into her own palm and looked down at the sobbing offender with intense displeasure.
‘You will spend the rest of the class standing in the corner with your hands on your head!’ the young Mistress rapped fiercely, paused, then added vindictively, ‘And you will spend this afternoon’s holiday writing an essay on the character of Macbeth!’
‘Yes, Miss Scott-Forbes,’ Wendy replied meekly and walked slowly to the corner of the classroom with her head hung in floods of bitter tears — tears of shame and of pain. Not only were her throbbing hands aching and stinging unbearably as she clasped them painfully together on her soft, golden curls to faint titters from the back of the class, but her meeting with Johnny which she’d been looking forward to so much was now just a dream!
After an eternity of abject humiliation, the bell signalling the end of the double period rang out and the girls dispersed for the morning break in a sea of red stripes.
Wendy was sobbing her heart out when Elaine Simmons and her friend Judy Manders found her in the fifth form study which they shared.
‘Never mind, Wendy,’ Elaine consoled her friend tenderly. ‘It’ll wear off later,’ she said looking at the flaming red, bruised palms which Wendy was nursing between her thighs.
‘It’s not just that!’ Wendy sobbed. ‘It’s having to stay in this afternoon!’ she cried, bursting into renewed floods of tears streaming down her soft, comely cheeks.
Elaine put her arm tenderly around Wendy’s shoulder. ‘It’s only one afternoon, old chum,’ she said gently, wondering why her friend was quite so upset.
‘Well, you see…’ Wendy stammered, wiping her adorable blue eyes with the hem of her gymslip revealing soft navy blue knickers and creamy white thighs. ‘It’s just that I…’ She hesitated, cast down her eyes and blushed an exquisite shade of pink. Wendy had little experience of boys and was at a very romantic age.
‘It’s just that I was meeting someone rather special,’ she finally blurted out, fixing her eyes steadfastly on the floor.
‘Oh, er, I see,’ Elaine coughed as all became clear.
‘But instead I’ll be locked in that beastly library writing a beastly essay!’ Wendy wailed and her tears were the proof of her misery.
Judy Manders reflected silently for a moment in deep thought, then announced suddenly, ‘The library’s only on the first floor.’
The others looked round at her bewildered by this odd remark. Judy was known both as a brainy girl and one fond of japes.
‘What do you mean, Jude?’ Elaine finally asked.
‘Well, the decorators are round the corner, aren’t they, painting the staff room windows?’
‘You mean…’ Wendy began.
‘I mean Elaine and I will borrow a ladder when everyone’s out on holiday, put it by the library window, and you will climb down, spend an hour with your, er, friend,’ Judy blushed slightly. ‘Then come back the same way, finish your essay and no one will be any the wiser!’ she concluded triumphantly.
Wendy and Elaine looked at her in amazement as if in the presence of genius! Then both burst into wide grins.
‘Crikey, I think you’ve solved it!’ said Wendy incredulously as if rescued from some completely hopeless situation.
‘Sort it out at lunch,’ Jane said. ‘Better hurry now or we’ll be late for gym.’ The girls quickly gathered together white plimsolls and navy gym skirts and rushed excitedly down the corridor.
By two o’clock Wendy was seated in the empty library. Out of her worn leather satchel she took her exercise books, ruler and a bottle of blue ink. She removed her striped blazer and hung it on the back of her chair, then wrote THE CHARACTER OF MACBETH in block capitals and underlined it twice.
The oak door swung open and Miss Scott-Forbes entered the library with a proud, disdainful expression on her pretty face. An attractive young woman with shapely legs and an almost voluptuous figure, Miss Scott-Forbes wore a tight green suit in dogtooth tweed and horn-rimmed glasses giving a studious air to her cool beauty.
‘I am glad to see you are on time for once, Wilson,’ she rapped.
‘Yes, Miss,’ Wendy answered humbly.
‘Have you everything you need?’
‘Yes, Miss Scott-Forbes,’ Wendy replied.
The Mistress wondered momentarily whether she detected a slight slyness about the pretty, young offender. ‘Good. Matron may look in on you from time to time,’ she said curtly and turned on her heels.
Wendy heard the key turn firmly in the lock.
Wendy sighed. What a day this was turning out to be! What if Elaine and Judy couldn’t get the ladder? What if Matron looked in before she got back? She sighed again. The afternoon was so beautiful and though she hardly knew Johnny yet she already saw him as some sweet young prince.
She knew she’d be out of that window at the first opportunity whatever the risks!
She turned to her books and wrote a few lines, hard though it was to concentrate. Half an hour passed as the beautiful, lone figure sat over her books and wrote intently. St Jude’s was silent and by now probably almost deserted. Suddenly there was a scraping noise at the window!
Wendy whirled round. The top of a pair of paint-stained ladders was swinging precariously outside! She rushed across the library, threw the window open and grabbed the swaying ladder. She stared down. Elaine and Judy were looking up at her with huge grins!
Elaine put her finger to her lips as Wendy suppressed a cry. The two conspirators on the ground looked quickly around them and quietly made off in the direction of the main gate.
Wendy’s heart was thumping. She glanced back at her pile of dusty books then out at the sparkling sea. In a second her mind was made up. She scampered onto the ivy-covered sill and began climbing down to freedom!
The nearby staff room was almost deserted. Miss Scott-Forbes sat in a leather armchair carefully marking a pile of essays. At length she added the last exercise book to the tall pile on the coffee table.
Good, she thought with a sigh. All her marking was done and it wasn’t yet three. It was brilliantly sunny and a swim would be delightful. She had plenty of time to pop into the village for some tea and then make her way down to Telfords Cove for some well-earned recreation!
As Miss Scott-Forbes walked out of the empty staff room the unlikely figure of Wendy appeared outside the windows carefully replacing the short ladder. Then by an inconspicuous route she headed for the boundary wall and tore over the turf beyond. Breathless she reached the sandy pathway down to the Cove.
Racing round the base of the cliff she saw a lone figure on the beach.
It was Johnny!
She rushed on, completely out of breath, her mind in a turmoil of anxiety, excitement and something an older person would call desire.
She reached Johnny with her heart pounding. Lowering her eyes she gasped, ‘I’m awfully sorry I’m late, Johnny, I got held up…’
Without saying a word Johnny stepped up to her, gripped her in a crushing bear hug, and planted a scorching, passionate kiss on her perfectly moulded lips…
Miss Scott-Forbes made her way carefully down the sandy path to the Cove. It was a pleasure to get a break, she thought. Teaching could be a wearing job. She was not long down from Oxford and though she would never admit it she was still rather lonely at St Jude’s. Most of the staff were older and spinsters and men were virtually non-existent! Things had been different at Oxford, she thought with a smile.
She had changed into white shorts and a pink blouse and replaced her rather severe spectacles with a pair of fashionable sun glasses. Her hair, normally worn up in a tight bun, had been released and swung around her shoulders in attractive waves the colour of rich, red mahogany glinting in the sun.
As she rounded the base of the cliff her rather private thoughts evaporated as she gasped at the sight visible across the beach. Spontaneously she drew back behind the cliff in shock wondering if she was fantasising more vividly than she could believe. She looked again.
No, she was right! It was staggering!
Wendy Wilson, whom she had herself locked in the library not an hour earlier, was romping on the sand with a young man she had seen around the school grounds. It was incredible!
The Mistress looked again. In their horseplay the boy had thrown the schoolgirl over and was vigorously spanking her across the bottom with a powerful right hand! Miss Scott-Forbes gulped. Apart from the shock of it all something about the scene struck deep chords. She found herself strangely aroused, she dimly recalled being across her father’s knee as a powerful hand pounded into her young bottom… with a start she collected herself and regained control.
‘WILSON!’ she screamed across the sand.
Wendy looked up stunned. It couldn’t be! Miss Scott-Forbes was standing there looking at it all! Instantly her world collapsed in a terrifying disaster. Not only was the deep shame of being seen at a new and delicate moment a shocking trauma, but the gravity of her escape, disobedience, not to mention breaking bounds, all added up to a sudden, horrendous revelation. She was in terrible trouble!
Now Miss Scott-Forbes radiated her customary authority. ‘Come here, girl,’ she yelled.
Wendy walked shaking across the sand, her face as red as the stripes of St Jude’s.
Miss Scott-Forbes glared terrifyingly at the schoolgirl. Now was not the time for questions the Mistress decided. ‘You will return to school immediately,’ she hissed. ‘And report to my study at six o’clock!’ she added venomously.
‘Yes, Miss,’ Wendy replied barely audibly in a shaking voice and ran off in floods of tears.
Johnny Western watched this drama dispassionately and walked slowly up to the young Mistress.
Miss Scott-Forbes flushed slightly. He was extremely good-looking with crinkly black hair and a muscular, sun-tanned body. His blue trunks bulged enormously, she noticed, hoping her blushing didn’t show. She looked aside nervously, slightly thrown by her own conflicting responses.
Johnny flashed an engaging smile.
‘I’m sorry — I hope I haven’t caused any trouble, Miss,’ he said calmly, looking at her face. Her pink blouse had come partly undone and Johnny glanced appreciatively at the firm, shapely mounds which bulged erect beneath the pink cotton.
Despite her cultured background there was something about Johnny’s brutish masculinity, something strong and masterful, that struck the deepest chords in Miss Scott-Forbes and attracted her immensely despite all her efforts to the contrary!
She coughed and stammered slightly. ‘Wilson will be dealt with later,’ was all she could manage, trying to sound as severe as she could.
Johnny’s striking looks had brought him much success with the opposite sex and he was quick on the uptake. Lack of confidence wasn’t one of Johnny’s problems.
‘If you’re wondering who I am, my name’s Johnny, I work in the stables,’ he said looking steadily into her face. ‘I don’t know if you’re interested in riding?’ he asked with perfect calmness.
Whilst her brain was thinking of a stern rebuke Gail Scott-Forbes found herself saying quietly: ‘Actually I did ride quite a lot at University…’
‘Good,’ he smiled, ‘I hope you’ll come over to the stables some time and have a look at the horses then.’ He smiled again, picked up his things and walked away.
Miss Scott-Forbes swooned slightly. This was all a shock and it was very hot The tall figure of Johnny rounded the Cove and disappeared.
As the clock on the school tower chimed six Wendy stood in full uniform trembling slightly outside the door of Miss Scott-Forbes’ study, her beautiful young face clouded with anxiety. She bit her lip trying to summon courage to knock, but each time overwhelmed by dread as her hand approached the oak.
Suddenly from within the study came the menacing hiss of a thin cane cutting through the frightened air. Wendy winced. The wicked cane beat the empty air venomously as if lusting after a more substantial target.
Almost as if her solid fear had been detected a fierce voice rang out: ‘Wilson, are you there?’
‘Yes, Miss Scott-Forbes,’ Wendy replied faintly.
‘Enter!’ Miss Scott-Forbes thundered in reply.
Wendy slowly obeyed.
Miss Scott-Forbes’ study was elegantly furnished in a more modern style than most at St Jude’s. There were rows of books, a number of framed varsity photographs, a cabinet of ornaments and silver cups from horse trials. In the centre of the room stood a large, black lacquered desk which had been completely cleared and somehow made Wendy shudder as she dared a quick glance upwards.
Miss Scott-Forbes sat to the right of the desk in a large, white cane chair almost as imposing as a throne. She wore her black academic gown and a black, tasselled mortar-board crowned her long auburn curls. As she sat queen-like she radiated such authority and power that Wendy found it quite impossible to meet her piercing gaze but stood head deeply bowed in shame, at once an exquisite but totally pathetic figure.
It had been a strange day for Gail Scott-Forbes. Whether from the heat, the fact that the long academic year was nearly over, or the accumulating loneliness and even frustration experienced at St Jude’s, the iron control that tended to dominate her personality seemed to be loosening. Emotions threatened to break through.
In the case of the girl before her there were obviously questions to be answered. Yet she felt an overwhelming impulse simply to vent a violent feeling of anger (she instantly dismissed a ridiculous thought that it could be jealousy) on this extremely pretty young schoolgirl in the most direct possible way.
‘This afternoon, Wilson,’ she suddenly snapped, ‘you displayed an obscene desire to have your bottom smacked.’
Wendy blushed deepest crimson and squirmed in appalling embarrassment.
‘You will therefore now position yourself across my knee and I will oblige you!’ the Mistress commanded with imperious authority.
The charmingly pretty schoolgirl dutifully fell to her knees before the proud, all-powerful Schoolmistress. Kneeling pathetically at her feet Wendy looked up at her Mistress with beautiful, imploring eyes framed in lovely, tousled, golden curls. Pleadingly she blurted out, ‘Please, Miss Scott-Forbes…’ like a desperate slave girl begging for mercy from a beautiful empress.
Miss Scott-Forbes silenced her plea with one gaze from her mercilessly hard eyes and pointed relentlessly at the floor with a long, polished fingernail.
Quaking with fear Wendy climbed over her teacher’s knee, her churning stomach across the green tweed skirt, her chin and hands resting on the floor, the exquisite curves of her buttocks humbly presented to her Mistress through the scanty covering of her navy blue gymslip. Miss Scott-Forbes tossed this garment disdainfully aside, revealing more clearly the beautifully formed cheeks under a taut covering of tightly stretched navy blue cotton.
Placing her right hand behind Wendy’s right knee, Miss Scott-Forbes slowly ran it up Wendy’s silky thigh and under the elastic of her knickers near the gusset. The navy knickers were well worn and the white elastic showed here and there through tears where the stitching had come apart. Miss Scott-Forbes gently tugged the woolly navy blue knickers half down revealing the top of the cleft of her buttocks, then ran her hand slowly across the soft cotton fabric and gripped the knickers firmly at the top.
Slowly she drew them down…
The old white elastic at the top had been tied in a knotted loop to give more snap and a small white label bearing Wendy’s name was almost coming away from the torn navy blue cotton.
As the navy knickers slowly descended to Wendy’s knees Miss Scott-Forbes was impressed despite herself at the unblemished beauty of the smooth, ivory orbs humbly presented to her will.
She suddenly raised her right hand high and brought it flying down across Wendy’s right buttock with an almighty SMACKKK.
‘Yeowww!’ Wendy shrieked with shock, her head shooting up, but immediately the mighty hand smacked again and again into her stinging rump in high speed succession.
SMACKKK! SMACKKK! SMACKKK!
Wendy gasped and winced, her sizzling cheeks quivered under the furious slaps as a deep shade of pink suffused the lovely cream flesh.
‘Yeowww!’ Wendy howled out as the hard, stinging palm bombarded each cheek alternately with increasing power and speed. She winced desperately, gritting her teeth for all she was worth. She never thought a spanking could hurt like this!
The schoolgirl’s face pressed against the cold lino drenched in perspiration, her exquisite rump stuck up in naked exposure to the increasingly violent bombardment. The relentless hand pummelled her reddening cheeks with loud slaps that resounded round the room like echoes punctuated by Wendy’s howls…
‘Take that, you slut!’ Miss Scott-Forbes gasped, unleashing another swinging slap onto the hot, red rump.
‘Please Miss Scott-Forbes…’ Wendy wailed trying to support her head in her hands. Much to her surprise the onslaught ceased. Thank God for that she thought, her buttocks throbbing and head swimming.
But compassion had not moved her Mistress — on the contrary her anger demanded the use of a new and more potent weapon!
‘Stand up, Wilson, take off your knickers and position yourself across the desk!’ Miss Scott-Forbes commanded with devastating authority.
Wendy gasped in dismay! There was more to come!
She slowly got to her feet and kicked off her navy blue knickers which had fallen to her ankles. walked across the study with trembling legs and faced the hard, black lacquered desk.
‘Please, Miss…’ she squealed as the fast purr of a cane zipping through the air rang out fearfully from where Miss Scott-Forbes stood.
‘Lie across the desk!’ the Mistress thundered as Wendy crumpled across the hard, shining surface, her long, golden hair cascading down to the floor. Instantly Miss Scott-Forbes was on her and wrenched the short navy gymslip up onto her striped blazer, fully revealing the exquisite forms of her buttocks now thoroughly red-blotched. Angry inflamed patches blazed with red indentations of the hand like lurid pock marks on a beautiful face.
In the same movement the Mistress whipped her right hand above her head, paused for a split second on a full tiptoe as if gathering every ounce of her strength, then suddenly lashed the cane down across the centre of Wendy’s squirming buttocks!
‘YEOWWW!’ Wendy’s shriek filled the study with anguish. Both legs kicked up in a spasm of flashing knee-length white socks.
THWACKKK! Hardly a second later the hissing cane bit again exactly on top of the flaming red stripe which had instantly lined the stinging flesh.
‘Please, Miss!’ Wendy howled, gritting her teeth with all the resistance to the onslaught she could muster, searing pain running through her body.
THWACKKK! How utterly satisfying, but what a cruel satisfaction it was for Miss Scott-Forbes who swung the scorching cane into the tops of Wendy’s thighs, then an inch lower, then an inch above as red lines burned into the tender young flesh in perfectly parallel formation.
‘YEOWWW!’ Wendy shrilled very loudly, and she could feel the tears coming despite her desperation to keep control of herself. ‘No, Miss!’ she wailed, her delectable body squirming on the hard desk top as the remorseless cane whipped viciously into the cherry red cheeks.
THWACKKK! Again the cane scorched down and buried itself in the soft, blazing mounds. Wendy howled out her suffering, her captive buttocks squirming and wobbling in a futile attempt to escape the merciless bombardment. Desperately she gripped the edge of the desk only to be reminded by another shock of pain of the chastisement she had received that morning.
THWACKKK! Miss Scott-Forbes landed another mighty blow diagonally across the right cheek. Wendy’s leg kicked up wildly as she let out a piercing shriek. The Mistress raised the furious cane instantly for another blow, rapidly scanning the raw, ravaged target. With immense pleasure she surveyed the dense, parallel formation of blazing stripes precisely one inch apart now blossoming into fiery raised welts.
THWACKKK! A slashing diagonal stroke scorched a deep crimson stripe right across the left buttock as if to relieve its perfect symmetry.
‘No, Miss!’ Wendy yelled between bitter, choking sobs, gasping under the anger of the attack, her face contorting totally. ‘No, Miss!!’ she shrieked in the most plaintive and affecting way, her ribs aching on the comfortless desk top.
For a split second Miss Scott-Forbes hesitated. Did she feel an unusual venom towards this girl? A picture of Johnny Western’s radiant smile flashed into her mind, then instantly:
THWACKKK! She hurled down the hissing cane again with all her force into the firm flesh below the cleft of Wendy’s buttocks, her face a vengeful mask at once evil and beautiful.
THWACKKK! She landed another flashing stroke across a spiny welt an inch below. Both cheeks were like a bizarre map now, blazing with a maze of welts like fiery contours, here and there bluish patches and odd shaped lumps of violet. It was the severest punishment Miss Scott-Forbes had ever administered, and by far the most enjoyable.
Wendy’s head swam, her buttocks stung beyond description and felt as if they would suddenly explode into flames. Her exquisite legs kicked wildly after each new agony, her torso slid involuntarily across the desk top, her rump bobbed and wriggled, she tried pathetically to force her buttock-cheeks together and clamp her mouth shut, but nothing could alter the basic and terrible fact that she was a helpless captive in pulsating pain.
The whole study throbbed with the sound of the thwacks and Wendy’s howls and wails, then suddenly there was a mighty CRACKKK! followed by an ear-splitting shriek. Wendy swooned as a searing pain scalded her left buttock.
Miss Scott-Forbes reared up in shock, a foot length of cane protruding from her tightly clenched fist. She reeled under the violence of her own impulses and an event which had suddenly checked them. Her adrenalin was firing like fuel in a jet engine.
She had broken the cane across Wendy Wilson’s buttocks.
Wendy sobbed on the desk in an agony of anticipation wondering if the onslaught would start again any second…
‘You are dismissed, Wilson,’ a controlled but slightly shaky voice interrupted her desperate thoughts.
Wendy couldn’t take it in, she had reached a point where the cane was all there was, there was nothing else and it could never end. Now like a dream it was over, something less than excruciating agony would come again… she couldn’t believe it…
Slowly she raised herself from the black desk, her face dripping wet with tears, her hair a tousled, tangled mass of gold. She bent down wincing, picked up her crumpled knickers in a daze and stuffed them in her blazer pocket. She gazed incredulously at her omnipotent tormentor as if still unsure she could take her leave.
‘You are dismissed, Wilson,’ Miss Scott-Forbes repeated more shrilly.
‘Thank you, Miss Scott-Forbes,’ Wendy replied as form required, although barely audibly. Then she curtsied painfully in front of her Mistress and ran from the room.
She ran all down the oak-panelled corridors to her own study though her legs and buttocks throbbed and blazed like fire. She burst into the room clutching her flaming rump with one hand and sobbing into a pink handkerchief held by the other.
‘Crikey!’ Elaine gasped with shock. ‘What happened?’
Wendy whirled round sobbing bitterly, her soft blonde curls rippling across her blazer. Abruptly she pulled her gymslip high above her waist.
‘This!’ she answered dramatically, suddenly revealing the ravaged flesh of the twin orbs, rows of welts like glowing spines-flanked by bluish lines, purplish blotches and violet scars, and above all an endless grid of radiant, pulsating, scarlet stripes… ‘Heavens!’ Elaine gasped in awe. Those were red stripes indeed!
The weekend that followed was a hot one. Miss Scott-Forbes’ mood, for whatever reasons, remained unsettled. Certainly it had been an energetic week! Wendy Wilson had been duly chastened and later Elaine Simmons and Jane Dugdale had also been reminded of Miss Scott-Forbes’ authority in no uncertain fashion! Their red raw posteriors would testify to that for some time to come, the Mistress reflected with immense satisfaction.
But there was something more. By Sunday evening, strangely restless, Miss Scott-Forbes had decided to take a stroll in the school grounds. She found herself carefully making up her pretty face for this little excursion, though why she couldn’t imagine.
It was a very warm evening as she strolled across the well-groomed lawns, her lush auburn hair swinging free about her shoulders. The atmosphere was full of the sweet richness accumulated during a long, glorious day. A strange and potent fragrance of high summer hung in the soft air. She found herself on the gravel path flanked by blazing flower beds that led towards the stables.
With a curious feeling in her stomach she walked along the path, her brilliantly shiny black patent leather stilettos noisily churning the gravel. She wondered if she heard muffled voices from within the stables or if it was just her rather excited imagination. Trembling slightly she slowly pushed open the stable door.
She pulled up! There before her, in black riding boots and leather jacket, sitting astride an ornate saddle which he was carefully polishing, was the tall, powerful figure of Johnny Western!
Miss Scott-Forbes coughed nervously. ‘I… er…’ she stammered, somehow mesmerized by this strikingly virile young man.
‘Hello, Miss,’ he smiled reassuringly, his piercing brown eyes scanning the elegant figure in the well-cut, rather tight tweed suit. ‘I’m glad you found time to drop in…’
Gail Scott-Forbes felt strange changes inside her. The assured, dominating personality seemed to melt before this breathtakingly rugged young man and she felt absurd impulses to…
‘Why don’t you have a look round,’ he suggested, calmly picking up a stout black riding crop which he swept round the stables.
He stared deep into her brilliantly shining eyes. Nervously she had to meet the strong, hypnotic gaze that seemed to melt her iron will. Their eyes seemed to communicate in silent, telepathic understanding…
Gail Scott-Forbes dreamily answered ‘Thank you’ and walked over to the magnificent saddle in the centre of the stable. Her nervousness was clearing now, it was as if she had gone through a barrier, now she felt in a dream world she had long forgotten.
‘This is a lovely saddle,’ she said quietly and bent down to her toes to examine the ornate leatherwork.
Dogtooth check stretched exhilaratingly tight across the firm, ample buttocks as she stooped elegantly down.
She examined the saddle at great length, finally putting her left hand behind her back and languidly smoothing some small piece of cotton from the green tweed stretched taut to breaking point across her rump as she continued to examine the leather closely.
Suddenly Johnny flicked the riding crop hard across the waiting, quivering buttocks!
Gail Scott-Forbes moaned with a long-forgotten bliss.
CRACKKK! Again the black crop fell across the delightful upturned rump, this time with greater force.
The Mistress gasped, intoxicated with a heady cocktail of blissful pain and nerve-shaking sensations.
CRACKKK! She shrieked as the whip bit hungrily deeper, suddenly falling to her knees on the straw with her head resting on the saddle, her whole body thrilling with electrifying sensation.
CRACKKK! She spasmed in ecstasy on all fours as the mighty power rained down on her. ‘Hit me, Johnny…’ she moaned hoarsely in excruciating pleasure, ‘Hit me…’
As if encouraged by her total submission Johnny grasped the hem of her tweed skirt and wrenched it up over her waist, revealing a delightful lavender-coloured lace slip. Johnny wrenched this aside with a violence that tore a gaping hole in the delicate, flimsy garment. Now an exquisite pair of frilly, pink French knickers embroidered with yellow flowers obstructed him. He tore them violently down as Miss Scott-Forbes moaned caressing the pungent leather with a craving tongue.
CRACKKK! The mean black crop lashed into the now naked, delectably full, wonderfully curvy cheeks.
‘Yeowww!’ the Mistress shrieked out with shock and pain, the ecstasy suddenly overshadowed by the incredible stinging in her pulsating flesh.
CRACKKK! The delicious, creamy buttocks reddened alarmingly against her taut black suspenders. She shuddered in a new world of pain as her face winced grotesquely, her rump throbbing and her loins on fire. Desperately she gnawed the pungent leather sucking its raw surface with unadorned lust, her babbling lips leaking saliva.
Totally abandoned to transports of ineffable sensation, she was quite oblivious to a slight rustling behind a horse box wall as a dishevelled figure, tie undone and hair and clothing strewn with straw, peered cautiously at the extraordinary scene.
It was Wendy!
Wendy’s young eyes blinked. She stood in total bewilderment. Then she saw it and her heart leapt. She’d told Johnny how she had been thrashed by Miss Scott-Forbes and now somehow Johnny, wonderful Johnny, had forced the Mistress to submit and was punishing her tormentor for her sake! How she adored him, no question Johnny Western was the most wonderful man in the world!
She must have been right because as the schoolgirl crept out of the stables and Johnny lashed down the savage whip on her thrilling, blazing buttocks, as her teeth bit deep into the hard leather to somehow bear the anguish, as she shrieked, panted and howled in unthought-of ecstasies of pain, Gail Scott-Forbes was thinking exactly the same thing.