Julie standing apprehensively by the inglenook fireplace. Apprehensively waiting. She has been here before, in this room. It has memories that make her shiver. Over there is that armchair where she was caned. Over its padded arm. Last Saturday. It is Mr Corfurd’s chair and this is his sitting room. Where last Saturday Mr Corfurd caned her. And spanked her. Her bare bottom. And also did that other. His hand between her thighs when she was over his lap. Playing with her pussy. Getting her pussy all hot and desperate because when a man has his fingers on it, in it, with a girl helpless over his lap, she can’t help getting all hot and desperate. So hot and desperate that finally she came. She couldn’t help it. It was what Mr Corfurd wanted of course. Working at her until he had brought her off. And then as soon as she had come… starting the spanking. It almost drove her out of her mind. And after that the cane.
All those memories filling Julie’s mind and making her tremble as she waits here by the big fireplace. It has no fire in it, not a proper fire. Just the round electric fan heater. Mr Corfurd’s room, his fireplace, but it is not Mr Corfurd who has told Julie to stand here and wait, it is Mr Renby. Mr Renby who is using Mr Corfurd’s house, has borrowed it for today. Mr Corfurd has gone somewhere and has let Mr Renby use his house. Perhaps Mr Renby’s own house is inconvenient, his wife is maybe at home?
That is just Julie’s guess. All she knows is that Mr Renby told her to come to Mr Corfurd’s house and Mr Corfurd is not here. It is just Mr Renby, to do whatever he wants. In the way of discipline. It is now Mr Renby’s turn and he has Mr Corfurd’s house, all nice and private. What is he going to want?
That is the big and awful question as Julie stands here and waits. With those memories of last weekend, Mr Corfurd, Mr Gannon, tumbling about in her head. Handstands on Mr Gannon’s lawn. And that awful business up in that little attic room. All of it in sharp focus in her head. And now Mr Renby. Who will be back in here at any moment.
Julie is wearing a kind of schoolgirl gym outfit. A blue short-sleeved blouse and tight navy-blue gym knickers. Plus white ankle socks and black strap-over shoes. Mr Renby had these things waiting for her when she arrived, upstairs in the bedroom. No doubt this outfit is intended to make her feel silly, to embarrass her, because clearly at 18 you aren’t going to feel too happy in a little-girl outfit like this.
‘Put those things on and go down and wait in the sitting room. Not sitting down, standing smartly, by the fireplace let’s say. Got that?’ Mr Renby had pinched Julie’s bottom through her skirt.
She squealed, ‘Yes. Yes sir.’
She had been here for five minutes now. Waiting and with all those awful thoughts twirling around in her head. Nothing has happened in the week since. Nothing unusual. It seemed to Julie that everyone must know. Somehow. How could she have such a mind-boggling weekend, such awful experiences, and people not know? But they don’t. No one knows. Not Sarah or Steve, or anyone. It is just… a private little nightmare world. And today, this morning… it has to start again. Mr Renby…
He comes in after a further five minutes or so. Julie’s heart misses a beat. Or maybe two. She pulls herself straight, at attention. Now. Her ordeal is beginning now…
Mr Renby is going over… getting that wooden chair. Bringing it. He’s going to cane her over it, Julie’s frantic mind tells her. But for now at least… Mr Renby is putting it down to sit on. Close in front of the fireplace.
‘Come here.’ He indicates a spot close in front of him. Julie steps forward. Panic surging in her now. Fear.
‘You weren’t standing very smartly, Julie. Not when I came in. Not how I told you. You were slouching about like I don’t know what.’ His hand strokes one bare thigh. ‘Really I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.’
Julie starts to babble something. That she was standing properly. Mr Renby’s hand slides up. To the crotch of the tight gym knickers. One finger slides deliberately in along the line of her slit. ‘No I really don’t know.’
Then the hand grabs the crotch of the knickers. Tugging them down. Julie gives a little squeal as his hand catches some pussy hair as it pulls.
Mr Renby continues pulling the knickers by the crotch and they slide down. Down Julie’s trembling thighs. Down to her knees. ‘Now pull the blouse up,’ he tells her. ‘Up above your boobs.’
Julie has no bra on. Nothing under the blouse just as there is nothing under the gym knickers. That is how Mr Renby said he wanted her when he took Julie upstairs and showed her the outfit. Nothing under it. She pulls the blouse right up. Baring her full, pink-nippled boobs.
Mr Renby slides his hand up. Tweaks one nipple and then the other. ‘Not disciplined, are you, Julie? Mmmm?’
He fondles her boobs some more and then turns her. ‘Put your arms behind your back.’
He holds her wrists behind her in his left hand. His right delivers a sharp smack to Julie’s bare bottom. ‘No. You’re not at all a…’ Smack! ‘disciplined…’ Smack! ‘girl…’ Smack! Smack!… Are you, Julie?’
She stammers some sort of answer.
‘No you’re not. Come on. Let’s have you across my lap.’
Mr Renby pulls her down. Onto his lap. Julie’s head low to the floor and her bottom nicely up. Last Saturday she was over Mr Corfurd’s lap in this room and now it is Mr Renby. Last Sunday it was over Mr Gannon’s lap in that little attic room. Like this with her bottom bare. Mr Gannon doing what Mr Corfurd had done. Playing with her pussy.
An involuntary ‘Ooooff!’ gasping from Julie’s mouth. Mr Renby’s hand has cracked in. Not doing any of the other, just belting in. The big hard hand knocking the breath out of her. And then again. She yelps. It is worse than those other two. Really hard. As bad as the cane. Is it? She is yelping and spluttering as the hand continues to crack down. As bad as that other? Mr Renby hasn’t done the other. None of that… at least. And it’s worse, that other… Is it? Worse than this? Jesus, he’s killing her. With that big, hard hand. That heavy arm. Killing.
‘Yes, you need disciplining, Miss. Lots of it.’
Mr Renby has stopped. At last. She is panting for breath. Her bum raw, like a piece of raw meat. Mr Renby’s hand slides over the red-hot spheres.
‘Don’t you, Miss?’
Julie lets out a strangled cry. Because Mr Renby’s hand has slid down there. In there. In between the tops of her thighs which have also received some of that same slamming hand and are glowing red like the cheeks of her bottom. The slamming hand is now groping. Grabbing her. Her pussy.
‘Too much of this, Miss. Is that it? Too much of your boyfriend. Eh? I suppose you’re doing it all the time. Every night. Letting him get up here like a randy ferret. That’s no good when a girl’s supposed to be studying. I think I should keep you locked up. Keep this hot thing locked up.’
She is yelping and writhing but Mr Renby has a firm grip of her with his left hand while his right is at her. At Julie’s hot and wet pussy. As he says these awful things. Julie’s writhings finally release her. Or maybe Mr Renby’s has relaxed that left arm. At any rate she eventually rolls off his lap. Sliding down with her knickers still tangled round her knees on the floor.
Mr Renby gives her a push with his shoe. Julie makes a whimpering sound. What with that awful spanking and then on top of it Mr Renby’s hand doing that other business she scarcely knows what’s happening. Her brain isn’t functioning. She struggles to get to her feet.
‘Is it still hot, Julie? That thing. Maybe we should make sure it stays nice and hot if that’s how you like it. Eh? Sit it on the heater. So that it stays nicely on the boil. Come on.’
She splutters something. Mr Renby is pulling her to her feet. Julie has not really grasped what he has said but Mr Renby is pulling the fan heater over. Then taking her by the arm. She realises… ‘No… Pl…Please.’
But he is pushing her down on it. With her knickers still down. Julie’s bare and still hot bottom coming into contact with the even hotter round metal top of the heater.
‘Aaooouuuwwwhh…!’ It is really burning. ‘No…!’
‘Just sit on it, Mr Renby says grimly. ‘Sit there. Keep it nice and hot. That hot pussy. Eh?’
‘No! It’s burning!’ she yelps. ‘Aaaooooouuuwwww…!’
Mr Renby watches with an amused expression as Julie gasps and squirms. ‘That’s just what you need, my girl. A lesson in self-control. It’s all in the mind. Think of that. Tell yourself you haven’t got a hot bottom at all. Or a hot pussy. Tell yourself you’re just imagining it. That’s what self-control and discipline are all about. Mind over matter.
‘It’s killing me,’ Julie squeals. ‘Aaayyaaaoouuwww…!’ She suddenly lurches forward. Off of the heater.
Mr Renby gets to his feet. Not looking too pleased. Julie, standing now, is writhing about and tentatively fingering her burning bum.
‘Did I say you could get up? Did I?’ Mr Renby smacks at the back of one quivering thigh. ‘OK. If you’re too hot we’ll do something about it. Upstairs. For a nice cold bath. That’ll cool you off. Double quick eh?’
And that is what he does. Marches Julie upstairs and then filling the bath with cold water. Freezing water. And then making Julie take everything off and get in. It is diabolical. Frantic shrieks rend the air.
‘Don’t you like it, Miss? But I thought you were too hot. You don’t seem to know what you are. Look if I let you get out I’m going to have to warm you up again. Is that OK?’
Anything is better than this bath full of freezing water. Or so it seems when you’re in it.
‘Yes!’ she yelps. Mr Renby pulls Julie out and gives her a towel. She can dry herself. And then he is going to warm her up again. That dreadful fan heater, that is what Julie thinks. But it is not that this time. It is… the cane.
Mr Renby takes her into a bedroom. Julie is nude, after that all too invigorating bath. Her body glowing pinkly. And it is about to be glowing even more. Or the rear end of it is at least. She has to lie over the side of the bed. Presenting her unprotected rear. ‘No…!’ she wails.
Mr Renby fondles it. ‘Oh yes, Julie. You were cold remember. Freezing. And we can’t have that. Now keep still… while I warm this up for you.’
A high-pitched, desperate yell, As the cane slices in. Is it a more desperate yell than those others: when Julie was sitting on the heater, or in that awful bath? It is not easy to compare these things.
A second anguished cry. And a little bit later a third in response to a third wristy cut. But then Mr Renby stops. Puts down the cane and sits himself down on the bed. Well, three with the cane is not so bad, once a girl has recovered from the initial shock, the immediate cutting pain. Julie is still lying across the bed, her face in the cover. As Mr Renby’s hand slides gently over the silky flesh of her nude back. And then down onto the smarting cheeks.
As Mr Renby’s hand engages in this not too unpleasant action (certainly in the context of what has gone before not at all unpleasant) he begins to speak. Softly, caressingly, a fitting counterpart to his hand. Regarding the way things should progress from here. He is speaking softly but Julie though her head is in the covers still can hear alright. Can hear what he is saying and catch the drift of it. What Mr Renby is suggesting. And really it does not sound such a bad option. If you think about it. And you don’t really have to think about it for very long.
Compared to that red-hot heater and the freezing bath. And of course the red-hot cane. No, compared to any of these getting into the bed, under the snug cover, with Mr Renby is not a bad option at all.
And there we leave poor Julie…