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Monday, 22 April 2019

How Fiona Was Dealt With

From Uniform Girls 31 (A sequel to How Paula is Dealt With in Blushes 45)
My Dear Friend,
Your recent letter has been a source of inspiration! My grateful thanks to you, for your advice and for the splendid photographs of your Paula which you so thoughtfully enclosed. One of the prints in particular has been used to good effect, as I will explain in a moment.
In the past weeks, Fiona’s behaviour has been simply appalling. I have needed to reprimand her daily, but my firm words were obviously having little effect. Your letter, received last Tuesday, finally prompted me to take firm action.
Over supper, the young minx had been in argumentative mood. I finally sent her to her room, convinced now that methods of discipline akin to your own were now appropriate. Fiona always bathes before going to bed, and when she returned from the bathroom, wearing just her pyjamas, she was surprised, if not slightly perturbed, to find me waiting for her in her bedroom.
The question of punishment dress is a most interesting one. Your photograph of Paula is quite fetching. And she must surely feel very young and insecure in that short skirt. Of course, the important value of such an outfit is the ease at which the girl’s bottom can be bared. Short skirts can be flipped up in a matter of seconds. Knickers can be lowered, and the girl’s bottom is available with the minimum of fuss. I have told Fiona that jeans are banned from now on, as well as those dreadful long shapeless skirts.
But I must not digress. I must return to my narrative. Fiona looked more than a little embarrassed as I sat on the end of her bed, telling her that I wished to discuss her behaviour. I am sure she realised that her thin cotton pyjamas hid very little of her pretty young form from my eyes. She blushed, quite profusely, as I talked to her.
Obviously, your Paula is now well-trained when corporal punishment is necessary. You tell me that she goes across your knee without argument, having learnt the consequences long ago. Now, in my Fiona’s case, the learning was about to begin. I decided that your precise and explicit letter would have the most effect, especially if Fiona was also shown those photographs of Paula taken after punishment.
I lectured her, and then handed her your letter. What an excellent hand you possess! Even Fiona was able to read, and understand every word! I sat and watched her expression as she scanned your words. What a delight! I would imagine the blush across her face first occurred when she read of Paula going across your knee, with her knickers down! And from that moment, Fiona’s manner changed quite dramatically. She handed me the letter in silence. I asked her if she had understood the contents. She nodded, her face burning bright red. I told her that my good friend, the author of the letter, was but a telephone call away. I suggested that either we could resolve the problem of her appalling behaviour ourselves, in the privacy of her bedroom, or I could summon my good friend’s assistance. Fiona, I am sure, fully believed that you would be quite delighted to take her on board, treating her as you treat your Paula!
I decided to give her no opportunity to argue her way out of this confrontation. She deserved punishment, and it was time that something firm and painful was applied to that young lady’s rear end. I patted my knee. ‘I want you to put yourself across my knee, Fiona.’ She shook her head, her face bearing the expression of fright, rather than indignation. ‘Or my friend will be contacted.’ I continued, offering her the photograph of your Paula after one of her canings. Fiona almost burst into tears as she looked at it. ‘Now, across my knee, young lady. Now!’ The battle was over.
Slowly, very reluctantly, her pretty face burning with embarrassment, young Fiona lowered herself across my knee. The night was still young. There was no need for haste. No need at all. I took as much time as was necessary, to lift the young lady into the preferred position, with her bottom precisely elevated above my lap, her long legs stretched out, resting upon the bed covers, her head and shoulders resting upon her pillow, those long dark curls lying loosely upon the crisp cotton sheets. For the very first time in my life, I felt the child’s warmth. The vibrant life that bubbled within her. Even through the soft cotton of her pyjamas, the glow of her young unblemished skin shone through. She lay there, across my knee in total silence, realising perhaps that any further protest would be unwise.
She allowed me to fold up her loose pyjama jacket, baring the small of her back. Her skin was so soft and smooth. And then, when I was more than satisfied that Fiona was lying in the most effective position, I lowered her trousers. I shall never forget that sensation, as my fingertips touched the soft fleshy curves of her buttocks. I shall never ever forget that first glimpse of her bared bottom, the soft peach-like contours, the dark tight cleft, the hint of secret little curls between thighs clamped so tightly together. By resting my left hand in the small of her back, I found I could rock her gently from side to side, making the task of removing her pyjama trousers that much easier. But why the hurry? This was an experience worth savouring for all time.
How far down do you take a girl’s trousers or pants? I decided they might as well be removed altogether. It took a little longer because Fiona was hardly co-operating. But I was surprised at just how compliant she had become after simply reading your letter. She just lay there, in silence, her face turned away from me, staring instead towards the bedroom door.
I placed the palm of my right hand upon her bottom-cheeks, cupping the very summit of both cheeks in my fingers. I felt her jump but a little as she sensed the presence of my hand.
‘Now, my lass. It is time to teach you a lesson.’ Still no protest. Still not a sound. The effect of your letter had been remarkable!
‘I am going to smack your bottom, Fiona. Loud and long. I am going to teach you a lesson you will never forget.’ I sensed a slight quiver of apprehension or fear as I raised my hand.
And then Fiona received her just desserts. I smacked her bottom. I smacked and smacked and smacked. I slapped my hand down upon that cheeky insolent upturned backside, intent on teaching young Fiona a real lesson. She began to squirm. My hand began to feel warm. Her bottom turned a bright shade of pink, the cheeks wobbling from side to side under the force of my slaps. She squealed as each successive smack landed upon that cheeky round bottom. What a fantastic feeling! Especially knowing that each loud smack was well-deserved.
Finally, after dozens of smacks, my arm began to ache. I stopped. She was crying, sobbing real tears into the bedclothes, her face still turned away from me, her hands now reaching behind her to soothe the inflamed contours of her bottom. At the height of the smacking, Fiona had begun to wave her arms and legs quite widely with some abandonment, affording me some glimpses of her more intimate attributes. All in all, that spanking was a real eye-opener, from every point-of-view.
She stood before me, her hands behind her back, her trousers still discarded in a heap on the floor. She knew I was looking at her, at the dark triangle of little curls, her long slender legs, and well-proportioned thighs.
‘Turn round.’ I told her. She obeyed, allowing me a further look at her punished bottom. ‘Do you want another dose? With a slipper, perhaps?’ She shook her head and pleaded with me. ‘Then you will obey me in future, won’t you?’ She promised, freely.
I left her. I am sure she had much to think about. But on the following day I decided to test the effectiveness of the night’s work. ‘Fiona. Why have you left your clothes lying in the bathroom?’ She offered no excuse. I sat down, and merely patted my knee. Reluctantly, but without argument, she draped her pretty form across my lap once again. And this time I was able to take down her tight white knickers before applying a good firm carpet slipper to her backside. More real tears and promises of good behaviour in future.
My dear friend, I have this very morning visited the garden centre. Some splendid varieties of Fuchsia are now in stock. I purchased quite a selection. Including a long thin garden cane, personally selected from their large stock. The thinnest and whippiest cane I could find.
Fiona will be introduced to its painful properties this evening, after posting this letter to you.
I thank you again for your advice and encouragement. We must meet up again, soon. Perhaps you and Paula could visit us for the weekend. The experience would certainly be to my Fiona’s benefit.
With all good wishes.
Yours,
Robin

1 comment:

  1. Fleas anyway to post some pics here. I need to share a couple of interesting pics with you.

    ReplyDelete