Search This Blog

Tuesday, 30 April 2019

The Old School House

Story from Kane 82 by Krista Wale
The fantasies all began with Beth when she dated a guy named Karl, until then she a naive, innocent sort of girl whose most daring sexual encounter was making love in the pouring rain across a park bench — daring enough you might think. However, Karl introduced her to something new, something she always used to think was purely for the x-rated video library, something, that only seriously weird ‘kinky’ folk got up to.
‘What?’ I hear you scream.
Fetishes, yes, that simple, but so erotic, so intimate you would need to try it to believe it. It’s so personal and private. You can’t brag about your fetish exploits like making love on the beach or in a cornfield. That’s romantic, brave, exciting, daring, but tell someone you love dressing like a schoolgirl and being spanked and caned, then see what reaction you’d get — sicko, pervert and weirdo to name a few, I would think.
Beth, sweet innocent Beth. As I said it began with Karl. When she first started dating him he seemed great, loving, caring and hopelessly devoted, a dream come true I suppose. The first few visits to the house raised a few suspicions; she noticed pictures of women’s bottoms everywhere. Yes, okay, a bloke on his own — you’d be more concerned if they were male bottoms. It was the way he kept hinting that he had a secret to tell her and he wasn’t sure how she’d take it that made the picture complete.
‘Guess,’ Karl said.
‘You’re into spanking?’ replied Beth.
He couldn’t believe she’d guessed right, all he was left wondering was ‘Is this the end of a beautiful relationship?’ Beth, to be honest had a few reservations, but he hadn’t said she had to do anything, so she decided to give the relationship a go — nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that.
The first time he spanked her bottom was whilst they were making love one night. Beth wasn’t sure how she felt, part of her was excited by it whilst the other half was a little scared, why? She wasn’t sure — what people would think? Would he still want her if she didn’t participate? Does he enjoy hitting women? Mixed feelings. Huge orgasm though.
Well, to cut a long story short that was the beginning of it all. ‘All what?’ you ask. A wonderful intimate relationship with almost no holds barred, (not literally — in case you’re wondering.) We really do feel comfortable enough with each other to say what we do and don’t like. I think the turning point for Beth on the ‘I’m not sure about this’ score was Karl’s birthday. What a surprise she had for him. He was chatting on the phone when she walked in — ‘The Schoolgirl’ — dressed in white shirt, school tie, pleated gym skirt, white silky pants and stockings. Well, the phone had never been put down so fast. Beth loved the effect she was having on him, it was the first time she let him spank her properly, and they were both extremely hot. Karl could hardly undo her shirt. Yes it was truly amazing. The schoolgirl, maybe due to her ‘disguise’ really let herself go, that’s when she realised she enjoyed it too. That’s when she started to fantasise.
Her favourite fantasy is the one I’m about to tell you.
It all began when Beth was working in a small village named Grimston. Each day she had to walk past the village green and see the old stocks. She used to imagine how people in times of old would be placed in them and punished, not to mention ridiculed by the locals. It must have been terrifying, but maybe, just maybe, exciting too.
The stocks could of course be used for another form of punishment — imagine being locked in the stocks, helpless, unable to protect yourself with your hands and spanked. What an exhilarating thought. Beth felt slightly ashamed at the way she was getting aroused just thinking about what she was imagining. It would be quite a test to see how much spanking and caning she could tolerate whilst being totally restrained. Maybe she would hate it; maybe she would love it.
The stocks weren’t all this little village had to offer; there was one other thing, a building, and not just any building. No, this was a place where you could let your imagination run riot. Every room could have a different theme. Beth thought of all the fantasies she could live out in this one place: ‘The Old School House.’
Grimston was in fact a dream come true. The schoolhouse was idyllic; it was just as you would picture a school in bygone times, when corporal punishment was an everyday occurrence. Beth could hear it now; ‘Bend over, Wilson.’ She would have done it with pleasure. The schoolhouse itself was a white building, complete with the original school bell. Inside the building just one room had been kept authentic, she longed to go and see it. And see it she did.
The fantasy became reality one day; it was almost like a sign. Beth could not believe her luck when the owners of the school asked her to look after it whilst they were away on holiday; they even said her boyfriend could stay too. Beth has so kindly decided to tell us of her wonderful time at the school.
Read it and weep. Weep because you were not lucky enough to be there.
Beth and Karl arrived at the ‘house’ early evening as requested. This was an adventure they couldn’t wait to start. Beth climbed the concrete staircase up to the old schoolroom and stood in the centre.
She was in awe. The whole room was original, the desks, chairs; even the blackboard was the old style, complete with chalk and board rubber — none of the awful whiteboards of the present day. In the comer was a cane. How would that feel cracked across her bare bottom? Also, hanging at the back of the door was a black cloak and mortarboard. Karl had always wanted one of those.
Whilst Karl was downstairs, Beth changed into her uniform. School gym knickers for starters — he always liked them. Then on with the calf-height white socks, black school shoes. Next came the plain white bra, followed by the authentic white shirt, tie, and blazer. She picked up her satchel and set off down the stairs — the horny naughty little schoolgirl.
Well, Karl was aroused on sight — she was a dream come true for him, a vision of pure wickedness.
‘Wilson,’ he said, ‘go to the main schoolroom now and start writing 100 lines stating that you must please your teacher and stop being so naughty.’
‘But, sir.’
‘No buts. Now go and do it.’
Beth went back to the room and sat at a desk near the front. She opened the desk, but found it to be empty. What was she to do now? She had no paper with her, no pens. Karl arrived shortly after her. He soon found the cloak and put it on, then the mortarboard. He felt so important with them on, it added to the erotic atmosphere that was beginning to stir.
‘Wilson. Why are you not writing your lines when I specifically asked you to,’ shouted Karl.
‘I’m sorry sir, there are no pens or paper,’ replied Beth.
‘Then you should have your own. Where are they?’
‘I. Err. Forgot them sir,’ she said.
‘Forgot. Forgot. No excuses Wilson, no more. Prepare to be punished. Now bend over your desk.’
It was just like her fantasy ‘Bend over Wilson.’ It was her lucky night. Beth did as she was told.
‘Now, pull your skirt up, so I can see your pants, girl.’
The sight of her bent over the school desk, with those navy gym knickers was almost too much for Karl. Once he’d regained his composure he stood next to her and placed a hand on her bottom. He started to rub it gently, then without warning his hand came down on her.
‘Aaaagh,’ she screamed. She felt the sting on her backside, then the second followed. It stung, but this time she suppressed her scream.
Her bottom was already warming up but she still wanted more. And she got more.
Another four spanks later and Karl said, ‘Are you sorry yet Wilson?’
‘No sir. I didn’t do anything.’
‘Don’t answer me back.’
He promptly pulled her pants down, just past her buttocks, just so you could see the white gusset. God it horned him. ‘It’s the cane for you my dear, six of the best, and I want you to count each one.’
‘No sir’, she teased.
‘Do you want more?’ replied Karl.
‘No sir, sorry sir.’
He went over to the corner and picked up the cane. On the way back to Beth he swished it a couple of times, he liked the sound, it was a good cane, definitely an original.
He brought it down on Beth’s bare backside. ‘One sir,’ she cried. Oh yes, a stripe was already appearing, she was a brave girl. ‘Two sir,’ she whimpered.
‘I didn’t quite hear that girl. Louder.’
TWO, sir.’
‘That’s better, my girl — more respectable.’
Thwack!
THREE, sir.’
Karl whacked her bottom harder the fourth time.
‘Aaaargh,’ Beth screeched. The pain was excruciating and her bottom was stinging like you cannot imagine. She tried to rub her bum with her hand to ease the sting, but Karl abruptly pushed it away.
‘You can rub your bottom when I say young lady and not before. And I do not recall hearing a number. Maybe I should restrain you whilst I’m caning you. What do you think Wilson?’
‘No, sir. It was number four sir.’
‘Good,’ replied Karl.
Beth heard the cane being flexed for the fifth swish, she was feeling so excited, she knew she enjoyed being spanked but the atmosphere was taking her to dizzier heights. She wanted even more thrill — and she was about to get some. The fifth stroke made Beth stand upright with a start. She rubbed her bum and hopped from one leg to the other. Wow, that REALLY stung.
It’s difficult to explain the sensation of being caned; the sting soon turns into an extraordinary, erotic heat — especially when followed by a soothing hand rubbing the pain away. Then the feeling of extreme arousal kicks in. After that? Well that depends how far you want to take it, where you want the feeling to end. Let us re-join Beth and Karl to see where their fantasy leads to next.
‘Well, Miss Wilson. I really think you need a little restraint after that little performance. You really must learn to compose yourself.’
‘And what do you suggest sir — tie my hands together?’
‘Don’t cheek me, girl. Anyway, I have a much better idea than that. Now pull your knickers up and follow me.’
Beth did as she was told. Where was he taking her she wondered — she hoped — no, he couldn’t be, could he? Karl led her down the stairs. He was still wearing his gown and mortarboard.
‘You may need your jumper on Wilson — unless you think you’ll be warm enough,’ he said.
‘I’ve a feeling I won’t be needing any more warmth sir,’ she replied. Beth couldn’t believe it; he was taking her out through the back door now and onto the village green. She had such a confusing mix of emotions, excitement, fear, danger but most of all an erotic thrill running over her, causing goose pimples and an amazing tingle all over her body.
Meanwhile, Karl was in such ecstasy he really had to try to hold himself together. Never before had he been so turned on by giving CP, never had anyone but Beth had this effect on him. It was only in his wildest dreams that he would find a girl that would be so willing to except his strange fetish, let alone allow him to perform these acts with her. This felt even more special because he knew that Beth was enjoying it as much as him. Sometimes he wondered if she gave herself through fear of otherwise losing him — not that he’d be so shallow — but tonight, tonight he knew that this was her dream too. And he knew none of it would have felt so intimate, so erotic had they not been so in love with each other.
So, there they were, on the green, next to the stocks. Imagine if anyone had seen them on that moonlit night, the schoolgirl and her teacher in full ‘costume’. What a sight it must have been. Maybe someone had seen them, but they were so wrapped up in each other and their real-life fantasy — they wouldn’t have known anyway. ‘Right Wilson. If you would like to position yourself in the stocks, maybe we can complete your punishment.’ Beth obeyed her ‘teacher’. Now she truly did feel like a naughty little schoolgirl. And, my, how good that felt. She had to remind herself that she wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this, not this much anyway. Once Beth was in place, the caning began. ‘Wilson, I feel six of the very best would be in order. Would you like to argue?’ said Karl.
‘No sir. Six it is,’ she replied.
Karl hitched up Beth’s skirt and pulled down her pants once more. Thankfully there wasn’t a soul around, what a nice sleepy village this was. He brought the cane down hard across her bottom.
‘One sir. Oh, two sir.’ The stroke was a little harder. ‘Ouch — three sir.’
He rubbed her bottom a little, it felt so warm, and he could see a faint outline of the stripes so far given. To say he was feeling a little hot would be a slight understatement. Another swish of the cane. ‘F-Four sir,’ she gasped. ‘Five sir. — That was a little hard sir.’
‘Perhaps you’d better prepare yourself for the final whack then Wilson,’ he said. Before she had a chance he brought the cane down just below her buttocks. ‘Ouch. sir — six sir. Six VERY fine strokes sir,’ said Beth.
‘Yes, Wilson. Very, very fine strokes. Now I think we should return to the schoolhouse and assess how ‘fine’ your bottom looks.’
Once back in the ‘school’ Karl asked Beth to remove her pants for him and bend over her desk. He hitched up her skirt. ‘Well, well my dear what a prime example of a naughty schoolgirl bottom we have here. Perfect! The best striped bottom I have ever seen.’
‘Only the best for my teacher, sir. Perhaps you would like to rub it better sir. It is a little sore, after all.’
‘With pleasure, my dear — with pleasure,’ said Karl.
At this point we leave Beth and Karl and allow YOUR imagination to run riot. If it were your fantasy, where would YOU want it to end? In the schoolroom, over the desk? At the stocks? Would you repeat the punishment, but this time have a grown-up girl with stockings and suspenders? Maybe you’d like the school secretary.
You see, my readers, as I said, spanking is one of the most erotic fetishes you can ever imagine, you can take it to different heights, (depending on your pain threshold,) and you can really let yourself go more; thanks to whichever ‘costume’ you choose. So remember, next time someone admits this strange fetish to you, try it. You never know you may enjoy it as much as Beth and Karl. And next time you hear somebody boasting about their latest beach conquest, just imagine what secret erotic memories or fantasies you could be having.
Enjoy.

Monday, 29 April 2019

Hot Summer Days

A marvellous coming-of-age story from Blushes Supplement 11, another one with R.T. Mason’s fingerprints on it, I think.
‘Forty-eight!’
‘Forty-nine, Susan! You tell her, Adrian; there’s forty-nine.’
Adrian looked a bit hesitant. He had made several mental counts of this morning’s crop of Morning Glory flowers on the trellis and come up with numbers ranging from 46 to 50. He smiled. ‘Actually I think there’s forty-eight and a half!’
At this both girls, his cousin Susan and her friend Georgina, set upon him, giggling and grabbing his arms. He fought back but in only a token manner because they were both girls and also the contact with their firm but soft female bodies in their thin summer dresses was not at all unpleasant. In fact it was decidedly stimulating — though not too much, he hoped, that a certain part of his body would betray him.
Both girls were 17, a year older than Adrian and he rather thought himself in love with blonde and willowy Susan. Except on those two or three occasions when he’d been alone with brown-eyed, black-curly haired Georgina — when he thought he quite probably was in love with her. The problem was they were both awfully attractive, especially to Adrian who had no sisters nor any close girl friends at home.
He had been here four days now, staying with Susan and his Aunt Penny and Uncle Roger down here in the depths of Hampshire. It had been really hot all that time, even for August, and that was why there were so many Morning Glory flowers, Aunt Penny said, although by the same token they did not last very long.
The giggling struggle continued for a few moments, then he abruptly ceased his efforts, to see what they would do. Susan immediately grabbed his wrists and forced them behind his back. In a mock German accent she said. ‘Ve haff ways of making you make ze decision.
Her front was firmly against his front; rounded thighs and breasts pressing up against him through that thin yellow cotton dress. He suddenly realised it was too stimulating: he was unmistakably getting an erection. With pangs of embarrassment Adrian felt his stiffening penis thrust up against Susan’s rounded abdomen. And he could see in the blue eyes that were only inches from his that she felt it too!
He was abruptly saved from further mortification, though — because knowing Susan she would probably have immediately informed Georgina of the state he was in — by a call from the house.
Susan!
It was Susan’s mother, his Aunt Penny, a very attractive lady herself in spite of being of course older — early thirties, presumably. Just how attractive she was Adrian had been fortunate enough to see on his very second day here, two days ago. Susan had been out, with Georgina, and he had gone looking for Aunt Penny. He found her, in her bedroom. Through the partially open door he saw her sitting at her dressing table with hardly anything on.
As he silently watched, trembling with excitement, she stood up. She had on only a white lace suspender belt and nylons, and a pair of high-heeled shoes. Her body was voluptuously rounded, with full but firm breasts carrying large dark-red nipples, and there was a thick swatch of black hair on her thing. It had really taken his breath away. He had got an erection, naturally, and right afterwards had to go to the bathroom and, well, do something about it. After that he was obviously quite a bit in love with Aunt Penny as well.
Adrian hadn’t seen the two girls nude yet, though you never knew your luck! Their breasts would not be as big as Aunt Penny’s, but they both definitely had something up front — Georgina especially. And smaller ones could be quite as nice as big ones. Susan’s had been very pleasant pressed up against his chest when she had hold of him — well, they had given him that erection, or at least contributed.
The call from the house was sufficient distraction for him to break away from Susan, and from Georgina who was also holding on to his arms at the back. He turned quickly to closely study some of the bright blue Morning Glory blooms, while willing his errant organ to resume its resting state. The flowers would not last long. It was now about nine and already hot; they would be drooping by eleven.
‘What will she want?’ he asked.
Probably wants me to go down to the shop. Can’t you go Adrian?’
‘Oh, I’m a guest here,’ he answered, now thankfully more or less back to normal. The three of them started walking back up the garden. He wouldn’t mind going down to the village shop on the bike they’d borrowed for him, but on the other hand he quite liked the idea of being in the house alone with Aunt Penny. He thought once more of those big firm breasts with their equally big nipples. And that other, down below. Cripes! He wondered what it would be like doing it to Aunt Penny. Fucking her. He savoured the word. Undoubtedly out of this world, fantastic.
It was all right to think of fucking Aunt Penny of course she wasn’t his real aunt; Uncle Roger had remarried. The same went for Susan who wasn’t his real cousin.
Thinking of fucking Aunt Penny naturally brought on thoughts of Uncle Roger, who obviously could fuck Aunt Penny every single night if he wanted to. If you did want to do it all the time at 35 years old, which was Uncle Roger’s age. Maybe you didn’t. He quite liked Uncle Roger although naturally he was a bit jealous of him on account of he, Adrian, was in love with Aunt Penny and Uncle Roger was in bed with her every night doing whatever he wanted with her.
Adrian also wondered what it would be like doing it to the two girls, Susan and Georgina. Had they done it yet? Susan might have, she was quite friendly with this boy in the village, Stan, who was older, maybe 19. And if he was 19 and Susan 17 he might just make her do it as a condition of being friendly with her. That thought made Adrian feel a bit sick. He himself hadn’t done it yet of course; well, have a heart, he was only 16. Some of the boys at school claimed to have done it but you know that 90% of them at least were simply idle boasters.
He thought how really super it would be to start with Aunt Penny, maybe even better than Bo Derek, or at least just as good. Bo Derek was his screen idol and he had taken her knickers off on innumerable occasions. Unfortunately only in his mind, though. But Aunt Penny… and especially with Uncle Roger being out at work all day!
Susan went off to the shop, Georgina going with her, and in fact they were out most of the morning. Probably chatting to boys, thought Adrian with a slight pang when eventually Susan did return. They might even have been doing it with boys.
His own morning alone with Aunt Penny had not produced any momentous developments. She had not for instance asked him to help her get her clothes off for her bath; or come into his room nude with those big tits swaying and invite him to examine any part of her he wanted to, so that he could be more familiar with the human female form. ‘Of course you can see where babies come from, Adrian: it’s a perfectly natural thing for a boy to want. What position would you like me in: shall I lie on the table?’
He didn’t really expect her to do these things, but he did like to fantasise about them. And either because of the presence of the two girls and the mother or due to the hot sultry weather, his fantasies seemed hotter than ever.
‘Where is Georgina and what’re we doing after lunch?’ he inquired of his cousin when she did return. He had found her sprawled in an armchair in the drawing room, her skirt carelessly high so that a glimpse of the crotch of her knickers (pale blue) could be seen.
‘A: gone home; B: don’t know; and C, will you get me a drink, youth. Gin-and-tonic would be heavenly but I will settle for lemonade.’
After persuading her to address him as ‘Kind sir’ rather than ‘Youth’ he went out and came back with two glasses of lemonade. He sat down in a chair opposite — where he could keep an eye on those rounded thighs and the pale blue knickers.
Adrian repeated. ‘What shall we do this afternoon. I’m your guest remember. There must be something exciting to do in this old dump.’
He didn’t really think it was a dump: in fact the house, a Georgian rectory, and its acre of gardens — which included those Morning Glories — were really beautiful. And the village and indeed this whole part of Hampshire — all very attractive and really a super contrast to his own home in Bristol. In other circumstances he would have found it all tremendous, the problem was these three females — Aunt Penny and Georgina and this Susan now sitting opposite him.
He was just not used to it, that was the trouble. At home there was only his mother and although she was obviously very beautiful, for a 35-year-old woman anyway, he had no wish to go to bed with his mother, have a heart. Though Simon Harrison at school claimed he went to bed with his mother. His father was away in the army and Simon said he did it all the time with her, said it was his duty as his father was away. He said his mother was really good at doing it and he wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else. Well, Adrian didn’t know whether to believe him or not. It wasn’t natural but on the other hand animals, cats for instance, were quite happy fucking their mothers. But we weren’t animals, were we?
Anyway, the fact was that for Adrian there was no sexual interest at home and then suddenly here he was with these three females and their extremely desirable female bodies. And with all this hot weather he was anyway more horny than usual, so that everything else was driven right out of his mind.
Susan looked at him over-the top of her glass. ‘There are rather exciting things which happen. You would be surprised. But I don’t think it would be suitable for an immature young stripling of 16 to know about them.’
He said, ‘Ahah! That’s the oldest trick in the world. You say you have a secret but it’s so secret that you can’t reveal it. We could all have secrets like that!’
Susan gave him a long look, then got up and came to sit on the arm of his chair. She leant over him.
‘All right, sweet boy. If you’ll promise never to tell a soul I will reveal the secret to you. This afternoon!’
He opened his eyes wide. ‘Promise?’ she asked.
He said yes. She bent over and quickly kissed him on the mouth. Then ran out of the room calling out to her mother to ask if the lunch was ready.
----//----
They were in a stretch of overgrown woods full of young growth with branches which if you weren’t careful, as you pushed through, whipped back in your face. Did they have to go through here? he had asked Susan who was now a couple of yards ahead. Yes, they did; because they must not be seen!
It was the rear of this Major Barker’s grounds apparently, which was on the other side of the village from Susan’s house, a 10 minute bike ride. He and Susan had ridden over right after lunch, hidden their bikes in the hedge, then had to get over this wall, about six foot, and then they were in these woods.
He had to give Susan a bunk up over the wall and in the process had got a good view of her knickers. Pale blue and nice and tight over her round buttocks and also, when she had to put one leg up to get over the wall, the tight round bulge between her legs. That had been pretty good, getting a look at that, but struggling through the trees was something else. Adrian just hoped the great surprise was going to be worth it because Susan would give no indication as to what it was. Just repeatedly making him promise and swear that he would never tell a soul.
After some 50 yards of struggling through the trees and undergrowth Susan stopped and waited for him to catch up. ‘We’re almost there. Keep your head down and try not to move any branches.’
And a little further on he could see they were at the edge of the wood. Just outside there was a kind of summer-house with, beyond, flower borders and lawns. The summer-house was right on the edge of the garden proper. Susan had a plastic mac with her and they sat down on it where they could see out. She said they might have a bit of a wait. ‘What for?’ he asked. Susan just smiled mysteriously.
It would be a good opportunity to start something but he wasn’t really sure how to go about it. He recalled that kiss she had given him before lunch: probably just a tease. That youth in the village, Stan, if he had had her like this and they had to wait he would probably just start fucking her. He really hated that character.
Susan lay on her back looking up at the trees. She raised one leg, revealing softly rounded thighs. She said, ‘You were getting rather excited this morning, Adrian.’
‘What d’you mean?’ he asked, though obviously he had a pretty good idea.
‘You know. When I had hold of you by the Morning Glories. As Miss Fairley our Biology Mistress would say, you started to get sexually aroused. Your thing was getting big. Does that happen all the time to a boy?’
Adrian had time to think that (a) this query seemed to imply less familiarity on Susan’s part with the human male than he had supposed, and (b) if Susan was going to talk about it he would probably get another erection. And he wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of that or not. But then Susan suddenly said ‘Hey!’
Coming down the lawn towards the summer-house were two figures. One was a man, fiftyish, a military moustache, presumably this Major Barker. And the other was a girl whom he recognised. Susan had briefly introduced him to her in the village. Clare something-or-other, 16 or 17, quite pretty with shoulder-length curly brown hair. The two of them were obviously going in the summer-house and though he had no idea what was to happen, Adrian experienced a wave of excitement.
Susan made a hissing sound indicating silence, then tiptoed forward out of the wood and up against the back of the summer-house which was only about a foot away. Silently she indicated some small gaps in the wood planking, and Adrian saw that with your eye to one of these you had a clear view inside.
There were seats round the walls with cushions on them, plus a couple of other chairs and a table. The Major was sitting on an upright chair and Clare was standing in front of him. She had on just a green and white check dress and sandals, with a green ribbon tying back her hair.
You couldn’t only see, Adrian realised, you could hear pretty well also. As he adjusted his position he heard Clare say, ‘I can’t stay long though, Major; my mum’s expecting me back.’
The Major’s voice was sort of military, like you might expect in an ex-army officer. What he said, though, was perhaps not so expected. ‘All right, we won’t take long. What knickers have you got on?’
Clare, apparently not at all disconcerted by this, answered, ‘The pink ones you bought me.’
‘Let me see.’
And Clare, standing close in front of the Major, simply lifted the skirt of the green and white dress up round her waist. The knickers were pink — semi-transparent pink in fact because you could see the dark of her bush through the brief tight pants. Adrian felt his heart picking up speed.
Moments later it was going like an express train, as Major Barker simply reached out and skimmed Clare’s knickers down, to her knees. The bush was now bare, like Aunt Penny’s had been. Not as big as Aunt Penny’s of course but, well, quite a lot of hair for a young-looking girl like Clare.
Goggle-eyed, he gazed through the crack — as the Major proceeded to place Clare over his lap. At this point Adrian naturally had a stiff erection and at this point also he suddenly felt Susan’s hand on his arm, and her breath hot in his ear.
Is it exciting?’ she hissed. And at the same time her hand came down and around. and took hold of the bulge in the front of his trousers.
It was simply mind-blowing. In the summer-house Major Barker had Clare over his lap and was proceeding to spank her bare bottom, his hand coming crisply down on the soft round cheeks; while behind the summer-house Susan… well, she hissed ‘Keep still!’ and simply unzipped his pants. And reached in his underpants and pulled it out: his erection, quivering and seemingly bigger than it had ever been before.
She started stroking it… while inside the Major was smacking away at Clare’s bottom. It was the most incredible experience Adrian had and in no time at all his stuff was spurting out. Splattering onto the weather-beaten planks which formed the rear of Major Barker’s summer-house.
Without quite knowing how they’d got there Adrian realised they were back at the other side of the woods next to the wall. He must have been walking in a dream, his thoughts riveted on that fantastic dual happening: and he didn’t know which was more fantastic, Major Barker spanking Clare’s bottom or Susan bringing him off like that. He vaguely realised Susan was putting her mac down again, next to the wall, and saying, ‘Let’s sit down for a bit.’
They sat down. Susan smiled and said, ‘Your stuff went all over the Major’s summer-house. I wonder if it’ll leave a stain?’
His head was at last clearing somewhat. The events seemed more fantastic than ever. Susan said, ‘Your thing’s pretty big, isn’t it — I mean for 16. How long does it take before you can do it again? Our biology Mistress said it takes a certain time.’
Adrian wasn’t sure he liked himself being discussed in this manner. Anyway what a question: for one thing it could easily lead into the matter of his playing with it himself — those really great sessions with Bo Derek for instance — and he wasn’t prepared to discuss that.
‘You were pretty cool, doing that to me,’ he said. ‘Do you do that to every boy you’re with?’
Susan coloured slightly. ‘Of course not. It was just, well, I was really excited too. And I really wanted to see it. It’s natural to be curious, you know.’
He decided to bite the bullet. ‘Haven’t you seen Stan’s then?’
She flushed. ‘Of course not!’
‘I thought he was you’re boyfriend.’
‘No, not really. We just lark about. Sometimes he smooches me a bit, and gives me a feel. But that’s all.’
Even this was enough to produce a pang in Adrian. What did ‘giving her a feel’ mean anyway? But he decided to leave that alone for the moment. There was as yet undiscussed that other fantastic business. Clare and Major Barker. For one thing how had Susan known about it?
She again coloured slightly. ‘Oh I know she goes there. The Major pays her. And she happened to say she was going this afternoon. So I thought… you might be interested.’
Did Major Barker do it a lot then? To other girls? Susan off handedly said she thought there was another girl. There was something about the way she said it…
‘Does he do it to you? And Georgina?’
Susan went a bright red. ‘Of course not!
Adrian didn’t really know whether to believe Susan or not. He wanted to believe her — because the thought of either Susan or Georgina letting the Major spank and fondle their bare bottoms as he had done to Clare… well, it was a really sick-making thought, the way Adrian felt about them. But there were bound to be doubts in his mind, with Susan knowing all about Clare and the Major and also the way she had blushed when he asked her.
They had stayed a bit longer there by the wall, sitting or sort of lying on Susan’s mac. She had wanted to have another look at his thing, but when he said, ‘OK, if you’ll take your knickers off,’ she said, ‘Oh no, I’m not doing that.’ Why not? Oh it was different for a girl; but Adrian didn’t see that it was different at all. She kissed him though, which made him feel all woozy and she also let him feel her tits which was pretty good as well. What with all this he naturally was more in love with Susan than ever and the thought that she just might go in that summer-house with Major Barker… it was like a sharp knife stuck in him.
----//----
Those doubts were naturally not going to go away immediately and they were still there next morning at breakfast, lurking below the surface. The reason they were under the surface and not at the more conscious level of his mind was that at breakfast his thoughts were mostly on Aunt Penny. Aunt Penny did not get dressed for breakfast but came down in her dressing-gown — a super pink quilted affair, knee-length and buttoning all down the front.
What was so good about this was the thought that underneath it Aunt Penny was probably bare — and certainly would have no knickers on. Adrian was pretty sure she didn’t wear a nightgown: well it was very hot, and also he could never see any sign of one below the hem of the pink gown. And he had one morning dropped his spoon on the floor so that he had to get down under the table and was able to get a better look. There were her super knees on show, and also a bit of thigh, but nothing else to be seen.
So sitting at the breakfast table was pretty exciting. The thought of nothing under the gown and the further thought that you could just possibly slip your hand under the table and up under the gown… and encounter nothing but warm bare flesh, and ultimately that spectacular bush of black hair…
Those were Adrian’s thoughts this breakfast time but then… Aunt Penny was going to take him into Southbourne (the nearest town) that morning to get him some new plimsolls. She casually inquired if Susan wanted to come and Susan replied, seemingly over-casually, ‘No thanks…’
Adrian’s ears pricked up. For some reason those lurking thoughts rose to the surface. ‘What are you going to do?’ he asked.
Susan answered, ‘Oh nothing much.’ But she seemed to flush, and his mind went immediately back to yesterday when she had similarly flushed in saying ‘Certainly not!’ to his question about the Major. All seductive thoughts of what was under Aunt Penny’s gown abruptly disappeared.
After breakfast he made the routine visit to the Morning Glories with Susan who was keeping a record in her diary. She counted and said 37, Adrian agreed without really counting himself. Then Susan suddenly pulled him into the corner by the greenhouse.
‘Hello, sexy Adrian!’ she said. Then kissed him, putting her tongue in his mouth. His penis automatically responded and Susan immediately slid her hand down and started stroking it through his trousers. But all this just made Adrian feel more sick than ever because for some reason he was certain Susan was going to Major Barker’s.
He broke away from her, saying he didn’t feel like that sort of thing, then asked her if she was going out. ‘Yes, I’ve got to see Georgina.’ What were they going to do?
She lightly punched his arm. ‘You’re very nosy, young Adrian.’
He went off by himself, mooching about the garden. He wasn’t due to go to town until 10. At half past nine he saw Susan go out, on her bike.
He looked desperately around, then made up his mind. The very worst thing was not knowing. He went in the house, to find Aunt Penny. Her voice answered him from upstairs. ‘I’m up here, Adrian. In my room.’
He went up. ‘Come in,’ she called, ‘I’m just about decent.’ She had on a full blue skirt but above the waist there was only a white bra. She was holding up a white blouse which she was evidently about to put on, raised arms also raising the full heavy-looking breasts.
Adrian gulped. Aunt Penny smiled. ‘I’m almost ready. It’s going to be very hot again, I’m afraid.’
Trying not to stare at the brassiered breasts, he stammered, I…I just remembered. This boy in the village… I really promised I’d see him…’
Twenty minutes later, sweating a bit, he was back behind Major Barker’s summer-house. His heart had been pounding as he struggled through the trees but there was no one in sight: no one to be seen in the garden or the summer-house. And now he felt he was just being stupid: the girls weren’t here, it had simply been his over-vivid imagination. And he could have been driving into Southbourne, just him and Aunt Penny. With Aunt Penny’s super big tits next to him, and her super nyloned knees that if he felt really bold he could just reach out and put a hand on.
And she might just decide to stop somewhere on the way, for a picnic perhaps. And she would lie out on a blanket and pull her skirt up as she wanted to get some sun. And ask him if he would take her nylons off for her, adding, ‘I didn’t put any knickers on this morning as it seemed so hot…’
He stayed there, in the wood behind the summer-house, for about half an hour. Then finally convinced how really stupid he was, he got up to go. As he did so he saw them coming across the lawn. Three figures today, not two. Yes, Major Barker and Susan and Georgina.
He felt he was going to be sick, that he couldn’t bear to stay and watch what was going to happen; but on the other hand he couldn’t leave, he felt rooted to the spot.
The three of them went in the summer-house. The Major, with his arm round Susan, said he hadn’t seen them for a while.
Susan said. ‘Well, we’ve been rather busy. For one thing I’ve got my cousin staying…’
‘Well, well. But now you are here let’s have a look at you.’
He sat down on his chair. ‘Up with your skirts then. Let’s see your knickers.’
Both girls, standing in front of the Major, lifted their skirts up round their waists. Their knickers were like the ones Clare had had on: semi-transparent that is, Georgina’s white, Susan’s pink. Major Barker gazed… Through the crack in the wall Adrian also gazed… and cringed.
Major Barker said, ‘let’s see; shall it be sweet Susan first?’
And there then followed a double session of what had taken place the day before. First Susan and then Georgina: knickers slipped down by the Major, then taken over his lap, skirt pulled up round her waist and the Major’s hand then coming crisply down: smack!… smack!… smack!… on the soft but firm buttocks.
Georgina stood watching, skirt held high, while Susan got it, then she went over his lap. Susan, a bit red In the face but seeming not too bothered, pulled up her knickers and then went to sit on one of the cushioned seats. While Major Barker’s hand continued rising and falling…
And behind the summer-house? Poor Adrian couldn’t help watching. It was a sickening sight, those two girls he was in love with letting Major Barker bare their bottoms like this and then with obvious lecherous pleasure spank them. How could they let this Dirty Old Man do this? But at the same time the scene had an awful fascination and it was also sickeningly exciting. More so than any of those steamy sessions he’d had with Bo Derek. His trouser front was open and his penis was quiveringly stiff in his hand. And before Georgina’s spanking was over, the rear of Major Barker’s summer-house had received another splattering.
Directly after he had obtained this relief Adrian retreated back into the wood. Susan believed him to be in Southbourne but there was always the chance of her wandering out.
Numb, he rode back to the house. There would be no one in. Aunt Penny in Southbourne, so at least he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone in the really awful state he was in. When he arrived, though, there was a car in the driveway, a Humber, that he hadn’t seen before. He parked the bike round the back, and went in the open kitchen door.
Inside he could hear the murmur of voices coming from the drawing room. Could it be burglars? He silently approached. No, the door was slightly ajar and he could hear Aunt Penny’s voice plus that of a man he didn’t recognise. Aunt Penny’s voice said. ‘The children should be out until lunchtime… but they could always come back early.’
The man’s voice, persuasive. ‘Penny darling, there’s plenty of time. We’ll go upstairs, in your room. Then if one of them does come back we’d hear.’
Aunt Penny’s voice was not enthusiastic. ‘I don’t know… I suppose if you must. But Charles, if you want to use that cane, please not so hard. Last time I was marked for two days. And if Roger saw it… well, it’s not the sort of thing you can easily explain to your husband.’
On tip-toe, his heart in his mouth Adrian crept back outside. If what he had heard meant anything at all it was so mind-boggling that it left all that had happened in Major Barker’s summer-house standing at the gate.
At any rate he would soon see: because outside the house on the side of Aunt Penny’s and Uncle Roger’s bedroom was a large conker tree. He had climbed it one afternoon and knew that, hidden in its branches. you could get a good view right into the bedroom. With all thought of Susan and Georgina forgotten he shinned up the tree.
Things were even better than they might have been because the window was wide open. A clear view! The room was empty: then Aunt Penny and a man came in.
He was not someone Adrian had seen before, tall and dark, maybe a bit older than Aunt Penny and Uncle Roger. He was in ordinary trousers and shirt and in his hand he had a cane. A cane like the Head had at school for laying into the more backsliding elements.
Could Adrian really believe this? It was like a dream, unreal, but it was happening all right as he peered out from his leafy green hideout. It was happening all right and if he wasn’t careful he would fall out of the tree in excitement…
Aunt Penny, in white blouse and that full blue skirt, undid whatever fastened the skirt and stepped out of it. Underneath she had brief tight white knickers plus a white suspender belt for her nylons. The brief knickers barely covered the ripe cheeks of her bottom. When she had the skirt off the man took her arm and pushed her down over the foot of the bed, then yanked the knickers down, taking them tight off. Aunt Penny’s bottom was bare, two full round globes with some of that black hair showing where her thighs started.
The man fiddled around with her for a bit, adjusting her position, then he stood back a step with the cane in his hand, and brought it whipping down squarely across the full bare bum.
Aunt Penny gave a gasping yelp which was not surprising because it must have really stung. Her bottom jerked and wriggled and Adrian could see that the cane had left a distinct red stripe.
The man, with an intent look on his face, gave Aunt Penny six altogether. Then he dropped the cane on the floor and unfastened his trousers. Adrian saw his thing, really big, jutting stiffly out, and then he was down on Aunt Penny with her still lying on her front over the bed. And he just started doing it — fucking her — in that position. Like Adrian had seen dogs do, or cats. It didn’t look like Aunt Penny was objecting at all either.
Adrian had seen enough. With his limbs all trembling he climbed down out of the tree, and feeling rather faint wandered off away from the house down the garden. He found himself in that corner behind the greenhouse where the Morning Glories were. He sat down. It was all just unbelievable. First Susan and Georgina and now Aunt Penny. How could they do these things! He felt quite shattered. In tune with this mood he saw that this morning’s crop of Morning Glories which two hours earlier were blooming so brilliantly, were now all withered.
At the same time. though, the plants had hundreds more buds coming on, all sizes, some large and fat ready to bloom tomorrow. Was there a moral here? Because if he didn’t have those foolish love feelings towards the girls and Aunt Penny his life would be blooming afresh too. Because he could clearly use what he had seen to his advantage. Uncle Roger would obviously go raving mad if he knew what Aunt Penny was up to; and the girls — would they want everyone to know what went on in Major Barker’s summer-house?
No, if he could only toughen up, with the knowledge that he now had, he could… well, blackmail was not a nice word, but just say he could persuade them to do what he wanted. All his fantasies could become reality. He thought of Aunt Penny’s ripe body, and the slimmer but eminently nubile forms of the two girls. He might even try a bit of spanking and caning himself — as a prelude of course to what the man in Aunt Penny’s room had finished up doing.
Yes, if he could toughen up, his life rather than withering on the vine would be blooming as never before.

Sunday, 28 April 2019

Getting Ready for Mr Granmore

From Uniform Girls 30
The room is quite large, high-ceilinged, airy. One section of the wide bay window is open allowing a pleasant little breeze from the garden to enter, welcome on this warm summer afternoon. It is a sitting room of sorts, with a deep-red brocaded easy chair the focal point. To one side of the chair is a large built-in cupboard with a mirror door, this slightly ajar. Opposite, against the wall, is a small rosewood table with drawers. Mr Simford places his hat on the table as they enter, and briefly strokes a finger across his forehead. It is a warm afternoon. Between the table and the red chair a largish travelling trunk has been deposited on the floor, on the polished bare boards beyond the carpet.
‘Mr Granmore is back tomorrow,’ Mr Simford says. ‘So we’ll certainly have to get things ship-shape by then. But I think first of all I’ll get those measurements. Then Mrs Mingley can make any little alterations necessary to your uniform. Mr Granmore is very particular about a girl’s uniform fitting snugly. The master is a very particular gentleman altogether of course.’
Mr Simford, fiftyish, is formally dressed in a morning suit, appropriate for a butler but no doubt warm on a hot day. His companion, called Laura, is a blonde of 19, a very pretty girl with a soft, sensitive-looking mouth and masses of thick, wavy corn-coloured hair. She is wearing a blouse and skirt with low-heeled shoes.
‘Yes, Mr Simford,’ she says in a docile, uncertain sort of voice. Uncertain because she is new. New to the employ of Mr Granmore who in fact she has not yet met, having been hired through an agency. Mr Simford has met her at the station and driven her through narrow roads and then leafy lanes to finally this house, the Hall. In through open iron gates and then a glimpse of grounds perhaps somewhat overgrown with the fertility of summer. The house itself seems to be empty, the corridors echoing. The staff perhaps are away until Mr Granmore’s return. Somewhere, though, there must at least be Mrs Mingley: she is the housekeeper who is going to alter Laura’s uniform, if that is necessary. Mr Granmore likes to see a maid with a nice snug fit to her uniform, Mr Simford has said. Mr Simford from the brief acquaintance thus far seems to be a pleasant enough gentleman. Not really a gentleman of course but to Laura’s eye undoubtedly a very important person because he will naturally be in charge of her, in charge of all staff.
‘Will you take your things off then, Laura. Just one moment.’
Mr Simford goes abruptly out, leaving the pretty blonde girl looking uncertainly after him. Did he say take her clothes off? She bites her lip. Mr Simford seems pleasant enough but it is all new and strange and somewhat confusing. The train journey from her home and now this place deep in the country, silent and empty on this summer afternoon. Is she supposed to take her clothes off? She steps uncertainly over to the window. This room is on the first floor so there is a good view and it does have an overgrown look of rampant greenery. There are roses out there and flowers in a border — lupins — but it is certainly overgrown as if the place has been deserted for weeks. It is a bit eerie… and now…
Laura turns at the sound of steps. Mr Simford again, now carrying something. ‘Not started, Laura? I hope we’re not going to be a dreamy sort of girl who doesn’t do what we’re told. Mmmm? Here, this is the dress but I don’t want you to put it on yet. We need to take measurements first. But you can put the other things on. The knickers, and the stockings and suspender belt. Now look sharp this time. When I come back in five minutes I want you like that, is that clear?’
Laura says an apologetic and slightly pink-faced, ‘Yes Mr Simford.’ She should have done what she was told and certainly she doesn’t want to give a bad impression right at the beginning, that she is dreamy or lazy or anything else. It was just that… it is all new and confusing. Her head at times has a rolling-around feeling, as if she is in a dream. She shakes her head and steps towards what Mr Simford has placed on the red chair. She had better look sharp and not be in a dream. Picking up the dress. It is a little black silk dress, clearly very short, edged with white lace. There are white, lacy knickers. French knickers. Rather sexy knickers in fact. Sheer black seamed stockings. And a black satin suspender belt. Her face flushes slightly… and then more deeply as she recalls what Mr Simford said. How he wants her. In five minutes time. The soft mouth opens and closes. And then her hands go to the little buttons of her blouse…
When Mr Simford returns, in the five minutes he has promised, Laura has done it. It has been a supreme effort to make herself undress and put on those things but on the other hand she knows she must obey Mr Simford. So she has done as instructed. Laura’s slim arms are crossed in front of her — in front of her nude breasts — because the outfit as supplied by Mr Simford does not include a bra. Laura’s slim but at the same time ripely-rounded form is in the sheer black stockings and the sexy suspender belt, plus the equally sexy white French knickers. She is standing with her arms crossed in front of her, pink-faced and looking a little desperate.
Mr Simford comes close. He has in one hand a tape measure and in the other something else. White. ‘That’s better, Laura. Must learn to respond to instructions, mustn’t we? Good. Put your arms down then. At your sides. Let me have a look at you.’
In this room in the silent house Laura does what she is told. She and the equally pink-faced girl in the full-length cupboard mirror put their hands at their sides — to reveal the firm, full breasts, rosy-nippled. With that mass of corn-coloured hair and clad as she is in the sexy French knickers and stockings and suspender belt Laura is indeed a ravishing sight. She has seen how she looks in the mirror of course — seen that other girl with her innocent eyes, her soft ripe mouth, who is nonetheless dressed, or undressed, like this. Showing off her nude tits. And now here is Mr Simford to gaze on them. As he undoubtedly is gazing on them. In this room with the soft air from the open window now upon them, and all eyes upon them as well; Laura’s rosy nipples are stiffening. She can’t bear to look — she doesn’t know where to look anyway — but she can feel without a shadow of doubt that they have stiffened up. Sticking out at Mr Simford in a blatant manner and making Laura’s semi-nudity that much worse. As if we have here a common, tarty girl who enjoys showing off her nude tits to a virtual stranger. Whose tits have stiffened up in anticipation of a bit of fun, who would relish the possibility of these sexy knickers being taken down and a rough male hand between her hot thighs. To boldly handle her hot cunt. But of course Laura is not at all that hot, tarty girl. If she is hot it is with embarrassment. Her nipples may have come up but she is feeling sick at having to stand here like this in front of Mr Simford. It is all a bit like a bad dream. Here in this empty house with its overgrown garden, its full-blooming roses. In here in this room with the open window and the mirror…
‘Lovely,’ Mr Simford says. ‘A very lovely girl, Laura. Mr Granmore is going to be very pleased. Now put this on, would you. I should have left it with the rest.’
It is what he has been holding in his hand. A little white apron with a lacy edging. It is obviously to be worn over that black silk dress that may have to be altered but now Mr Simford is telling Laura to put it on with just the knickers. ‘And then stand on the trunk, my dear. Then we can take your measurements.’
It is not Laura’s trunk standing there on the floor. She had only a smallish suitcase with her on the train. It is presumably Mr Granmore’s, sent on from where he has been on holiday: Venice, Mr Simford said in the car. Had Laura been to Venice? She had shaken her blonde head: Laura in fact had never been anywhere more exotic than Blackpool. Mr Simford in the car patted her knee. ‘Maybe Mr Simford will take you. If he likes you. Laura, and I’m sure he will if you’re a good and obedient girl. Mr Granmore is rather fond of Venice.’
Laura now with the little apron tied over the French knickers (though for what purpose she can’t imagine) steps up onto this trunk that has possibly just come from Venice, a dream-like city built on water from what Laura has been told. But possibly no more dream-like than this empty old house at the end of the leafy lane, empty and untended through the early summer until now there are Mr Simford and the pretty, soft-faced girl with the corn-coloured hair and the vibrant nude tits, stiff-nippled and nodding temptingly as she steps up…
Mr Simford’s finger again presses lightly across his brow to deal with any pin-pricks of perspiration. It is a hot afternoon and there is too this semi-nude and ravishing girl to raise a man’s temperature. Raise the temperature and quite possibly cause an uncomfortable tightness at the front of those splendidly creased trousers. With now Laura’s ravishing tits at eye level. Yes, those rosy nipples may not be all that has stiffened up in this room with the mirror. No doubt, though, Mr Simford is doing his best to concentrate on what has to be done: the essential task of getting this delightful girl’s uniform fitting in the skin-tight, glove-like manner that his master demands.
‘Hold that there, please.’ The end of the tape is placed on Laura’s bare front squarely between these stiff-nippled cones. ‘And open your legs slightly. So that I can… get the tape… in here…’
In between Laura’s thighs. She lets out a shocked gasp as Mr Simford’s hand, with the tape, goes in there. To the crotch of the French knickers. Inevitably also to Laura’s pussy underneath. ‘Just hold still…’ Laura is not still, she is shaking like a leaf, the ravishing tits are trembling, as Mr Simford’s hand is right there. In between her legs. Seemingly fondling her pussy. Mr Simford can’t be doing that, he couldn’t… but that nonetheless is what Mr Simford seems to be doing. Without a doubt.
His other hand is at Laura’s bottom now. Fingers fumbling the ripe cheeks, and in between at the cleft. Going further down… and under. ‘Oooohhh… !’ Two hands. He is passing the tape through her legs. That seems to be the supposed object of this. But not in any hurry; more interested in simply fumbling ravishing Laura between her thighs. Fumbling in other words at this lovely girl’s cunt. She stands holding the end of the tape in something of a state of shock, unable to believe this is happening. It has to be some awful kind of dream… a bad, bad dream in this dreamy place.
At last the tape is transferred — from one fumbling hand to the other. And at last the hands do come away. The tape is drawn up tight between Laura’s shaking thighs. From front to back between the legs: it is not a measurement that is normally taken, nor is it easy to see exactly how it will aid in the fitting of the maid’s uniform. But with a thoughtful ‘Hmmmm…’ Mr Simford notes a figure. Then slides the tape out from between Laura’s legs. ‘Good,’ he says. Are there now more of those pin-pricks of perspiration on his forehead? And the front of those trousers: do we have a state of extra congestion, of indeed extreme turgidity?
Whatever, Laura, flush-faced and still in that shocked state, is now subjected to a more conventional and acceptable measurement: i.e. that slim waist. She is told to unfasten the apron. The tape is slipped round her… and the apron can be tied again. All very quick and efficient in marked contrast to what has just gone before. But of course a girl’s waist does not offer the same scope as a tape between her legs. The waist is followed by… the bust. Those sticking-out tits in other words. Ah… tits no doubt do offer scope. Tits such as these, with their still unfortunately erect nipples, present no doubt something of a temptation… as a preliminary to putting his tape into action again Mr Simford takes hold of them. Simply cupping one in each hand. ‘Mmmm…’ he murmurs. ‘Mmmm… Yes, Mr Granmore will appreciate these. Lovely ones. Aren’t they, Laura?’
What can a soft-eyed and ripe-mouthed girl far from home in this empty, echoing house answer to that? With shockingly these hands holding her soft but firm tits. Her stiffened, sensitive nipples hot in these male hands. ‘No… Please… don’t…’ comes weakly from the ripe mouth.
‘Oh yes. He’ll like these. He’ll adore them, my dear. Mr Granmore is a great appreciator of feminine beauty. And after Venice and those bold, dark girls, bold and tarty so I’m told, he’ll be ready for these. Ready for a lovely English rose, eh Laura?’
The hands came away. Can all this be happening? What Mr Simford is saying — and even more what he is doing. His hands. It is like a dream, one of those awful dreams that a girl may sometimes get on a hot and sultry night. An awful dream that can come to even a sweet and innocent girl. A dream to wake her in a sweat — to find that somehow the sheets are all adrift and she has her hand between her thighs. Her hand at her pussy, wet and hot with perspiration — and her juices. She grabs her hand away, imagining the awful possibility of her mother coming in to see this: the bedsheet all awry and her hand there… doing what she has been doing.
But although it seems dream-like, a bad dream, she doesn’t really think it is a dream. She did go to the agency for an interview. She did come on the train. And then… Mr Simford on the platform. The car purring through the leafy summer lanes. And now…
Mr Simford has measured her tits. The tape drawn tight over those rosy peaks, then jiggled up and down, from side to side. Not nice but not as bad certainly as Mr Simford holding them; gently squeezing them. He takes the tape away. Laura still up on the trunk on her shaky legs can feel herself perspiring. At least it must be over now; the worst of it anyway. Mr Simford has at least done the awful part. Anything else… can’t be…
‘Slip the knickers down now, would you, Laura? Slide them down. I need to check that first measurement. And if we have them down… we’ll get a better…’
‘No!’ she squeals. ‘No… please…’ The bad dream is not over. No, the bad dream wants to get worse. ‘Not…’
‘Slip them down, Laura.’ The firm, butler’s voice used to directing young staff. Young tweeny maids especially no doubt. ‘I need an accurate measurement. Mr Granmore will not be at all pleased if the dress does not fit perfectly. And we must learn to obey at once. Not question instructions.’
Alone in this old house, save for the possible presence of Mrs Mingley — but can Mrs Mingley really be here in this empty, echoing place? — alone with Mr Simford. Laura clearly has no choice but to comply exactly with his instructions. As he says a new girl will not impress by querying orders. She must meekly obey. Mr Simford is her boss, more important in a way than Mr Granmore for she will have to deal directly with Mr Simford all the time. ‘I… I’m sorry, Mr Simford,’ Laura stutters contritely. As her hands go to her knickers.
‘That’s better. That’s a good girl. Right down. Take them right down.’
The sexy French knickers do come down. Laura’s unwilling hands push them down off of her hips, her bottom… and Mr Simford helps them on down until they lie crumpled round her ankles. Laura’s hands go back to her sides. She must stand still and straight and allow whatever Mr Simford needs to do. ‘Open your legs again a little,’ he said softly. Then, ‘More than that… that’s better.’ Oh…!
‘Not a shy girl, are we, Laura?’ Mr Simford’s hand is cupping the downy-haired bulge. The fingers are curling underneath. There are no knickers between herself and Mr Simford’s hand now. They were insubstantial but they were something, preventing the final heart-stopping contact. Mr Simford’s fingers are there, on the bare, fuzz-covered lips of this ripe-mouthed girl’s slot. Her legs, her trembly thighs, are apart. As instructed. So that Mr Simford can put his hand…
‘Nnnnghhh…’ comes out from the ripe mouth in answer to the question. She is wet. Laura can feel she is wet: this hot and humid afternoon, in spite of that slight air from the garden, but even more what has been happening. Even a demure and innocent girl will get wet there with a man’s hand squeezing her bare boobs, then fumbling in the crotch of her knickers for ages and ages. One finger, with the slippery wetness… slips in. Her knees are going to buckle.
‘Do you have a boyfriend, Laura?’
Does she have a boyfriend? Laura is in such a state, with Mr Simford’s finger slipped up inside the lips of her cunt, that at this moment she has no idea. She would be hard pressed to state her name, where she comes from, anything. The only reality now is this unreal place. This house becalmed under the hot afternoon sun, its garden running riot for want of attention, its master off in exotic places, in Venice with its dark-eyed girls, its staff who knows where. In this dream-like place Mr Simford has a finger in Laura’s cunt as she stands shaking on the trunk. That finger in her wet cunt, causing it to quiver, pulsate, is the only reality and Laura’s head cannot readily grasp any other. A boyfriend…
‘A boyfriend, Laura.’ The finger is doing things. Probing Laura’s throbbing clitoris to be precise. ‘Do you have one?’
Laura’s mind strains. With an effort it reaches back to reality before this place: before this earth-shaking finger Oh yes. she can vaguely recall. Roger. ‘Y… Yes…’ She does of course have a boyfriend. She has promised to write to him tonight. Her first night here. Promised at that emotional parting on the station platform. To tell him what this new job is like. Her first away from home. What this new place is like. Well, she won’t be able to tell this: Mr Simford. His hand. His finger…
‘Does he do this, Laura?’ Mr Simford’s soft and silky voice. As his digit continues its busy actions. ‘Do you let him do this. Mmmm?’
She can only produce a moaning sound. Laura’s knees are going to collapse ‘I’ll wager you do. Mmmm? You let him do it. You let him bring you off. Yes? You naughty girl!’
Hot-faced Laura is shaking her head. Hot-faced Laura standing here on this trunk and nude except for these black stockings and the black suspender belt, her knickers down round her ankles. Mr Simford’s words are as dreadful as his hand between her thighs. Mr Simford is doing this and Laura is trembling like a leaf, about to collapse at any moment… but at the same time it is getting her excited, aroused. Hot. Hotter than ever. As Mr Simford says…
‘No!’ she gasps. Wildly shaking the thick blonde tresses.
‘Yes you do. You let him do it. That’s very naughty. Laura. And what do we do with naughty girls? We spank their bottoms.’
----//----
The sun is still high in the cloudless sky and the air is as heavy, as sultry, as in that room with the red chair, the mirror, that heavy trunk on the floor. That trunk on which she had to stand. That chair in which Mr Simford sat — for Laura to place herself over his lap. ‘I think we’ll have them right off now.’ The sexy white French knickers. Mr Simford pulling them off over Laura’s stockinged feet. Before turning his attention to her taut-cheeked rear. Crisply stinging spanks to those nude nates. Gasping yelps. Producing also a bright-red flush to the sharply-belaboured flesh.
The flush is still there, though now faded from its initial bright redness. Now only pink: the colour of her ripe mouth, the colour also of the nipples of the pertly vibrant tits. ‘You can go out in the garden now.’ Mr Simford said when finally he’d finished. When finally he’d had his fill of her writhing rump. Spanking-wise that is. ‘I’ll call you when you’re needed, my dear.’
Laura is still without the finally removed knickers. Her stockinged feet are now in a pair of three-inch-heeled pumps, but nothing else had been added to her outfit. So it is just the stockings and suspender belt with those spiky-heeled shoes. Out here in the garden.
Can she really be here in this garden? With the heady scent of the ripe-red roses. The scent also of something like a meadow for that is what the lawn resembles. The grass grown rampant, with flower heads, seeds. Daisies too and other weed flowers flowering. Out here with no sound in the heavy air save the droning bees. Is she dreaming?
Laura doesn’t think she is There is a feeling of panicky anxiety that seems urgently real, not like dreaming. Out here in the open like this, nude virtually. The house with its windows gazing blandly at her. The house is empty but all the windows seem to be gazing on her bare boobs, her equally bare bottom and pussy. And in the other direction where there are shrubs, the trees at the end of the lawn: who might be lurking there, eager-eyed? Laura does not want to be in the house, with Mr Simford and his awful hands, but in a way it is even more scary to be out here like this. With the sun hot on her nude form and quite possibly eyes, hidden eyes, hot on it too. She is standing by the roses, breathing in their sweet scent, one arm across trying to cover her trembling tits, the other in front of that downy blonde triangle. Is her dress being altered? Will she actually be allowed to put the dress on? And even if she is will Mr Simford nonetheless be doing those things again? Spanking her bare bottom… and that other heart-stopping thing. Mr Granmore…
Mr Granmore is due tomorrow. What will Mr Granmore be like? Will he know that Mr Simford had been doing these things? Will he perhaps be going to do them himself? Mr Simford said…
----//----
It is as hot as yesterday, the air as heavy, but there is at least another sound now besides the quiet bumbling of bees. A lawn-mower. Mr Marten who is the gardener is now here and is busy attacking the rampant greenery. Grass seed-heads and daisies are falling to the spinning blades. Yes Mr Marten is at work and Mr Granmore is here sitting with a book in a deckchair on the terrace. Laura comes out carrying her tray with Mr Granmore’s cool drink. Things are perhaps a little more normal now. In addition to the widening area of mown lawn Laura herself is dressed in what might be called a decent manner. She has her little black dress on, that is. It fits very snugly, like a glove. from neck to waist. So tight that there is no room for a bra underneath, nothing in fact. Mrs Mingley has done a good job. The dress has also a very short skirt so that when Laura bends slightly with her tray at Mr Granmore’s table the skirt rides up at the back sufficiently to reveal another pair of those white French knickers. Mr Granmore smiles at her. He is younger than Mr Simford. a pleasant-looking gentleman, dressed this morning in casual slacks and open-neck shirt.
‘Settling in all right, my dear?’
She could say something of her experiences yesterday of course. This would perhaps be a golden opportunity. But clearly it would not be a good idea. Mr Granmore is not going to want to listen to the complaints of a new young maid, not about the senior member of his staff, an old and trusted retainer. Laura nods her blonde hair. A deferential ‘Yes sir.’
‘Good,’ Mr Granmore smiles. ‘I’m so glad to hear that. I was sorry not to be here when you arrived. Especially now I can see what a pretty girl you are. With all that marvellous hair. Yes.’ He takes hold of one nyloned knee, pulling Laura a step closer. When she is close the hand slides up, near to her stocking top.
‘Yes, we’ll have to get acquainted. And right away I think. Has Mr Simford given you any particular thing to do at this moment?’ Laura shakes her head. In that case… why don’t you go up to your room. I’ll come up… in a few moments. We’ll have a chat. How will that be?’
Laura can only answer. ‘Yes sir,’ of course. And go up to her room. It is on the second floor, above that room with the red chair where yesterday Mr Simford did those things. A small room. a maid’s room, with a narrow bed and a dressing table and a cupboard for her clothes. Out of the window, as from the red-chair room, you can see the garden and now Mr Marten still at work on the lawn. If she cranes her head Laura can see Mr Granmore —still sitting there sipping his drink. But now… he is standing up. He will be coming up. Here. She experiences a little shiver. Mr Granmore seems nice — but then so did Mr Simford when she met him yesterday. In fact he has continued to be pleasant in other ways. It is just that he did those things. And now there is Mr Granmore, who arrived this morning. Perhaps Mr Granmore… the door opens.
There is no lock on the door. A girl would not want to lock her door against Mr Granmore or Mr Simford. Well, she might want to. It is of course Mr Granmore who has entered. Laura produces a nervous smile. She has that dream-like feeling again. She has had it to a certain extent ever since she arrived here yesterday afternoon. She had it last night lying in this little bed and wondering if the door was going to open and Mr Simford come in. To do things. But he didn’t. The feeling is back again more strongly now though, in this little room at the top of the house. With Mr Granmore. Who is sitting now on her narrow bed. And in a friendly voice tells her to take her knickers off. She is doing it. Of course. As with Mr Simford. Even more than with Mr Simford a girl must obey the master of the house.
‘Have you been to Venice?’ he asks in that pleasant voice. Mr Granmore’s hand under the short skirt where now there are no knickers, is on the soft blonde bush. Laura shakes her head. She is trembling of course. As with Mr Simford. Her soft thighs with the taut black suspender straps are trembling —as Mr Granmore tells her to part them a little. So that he can reach his hand further in… where Laura is already wet. The room in her dream seems to be swaying slightly now. This room above the green garden where Mr Marten is at work, you can hear the distant sound of the mower. Mr Granmore takes his hand away. And Laura looks mesmerised at what the hand is doing now. It is at the front of Mr Granmore’s trousers. ‘I shall have to take you to Venice, Laura,’ he says. As he unzips his trousers. ‘You’ll love Venice.’ Her eyelids fluttering like butterflies. She wants to look away, she doesn’t want to look. This has to be a dream. One of those awful sweat-making dreams. As Mr Granmore pulls her gently forward… and tells her what she has to do.