Search This Blog

Sunday, 30 June 2019

Correct Method

From Blushes 55
To some, Mrs Stacey was a tyrant. To some she was a paragon of virtue and to yet others she was a woman to be avoided at all costs! She was a different personality to different people. It all depended on which side of the fence a person was situated when one became involved with Mrs Stacey.
When Mandy was introduced to Mrs Stacey she had already heard conflicting stories regarding the somewhat attractive and yet underlying austere nature of the woman. At that first initial meeting, Mrs Stacey had smiled as though reassuringly. The smile was fine and the attitude was alright too, but it was the purposefully prepared speech of introduction that Mandy remembered most vividly. Mrs Stacey had not stopped smiling although the oration coming in a deliberate tone of controlled discipline had left Mandy aghast and somewhat overawed.
‘I do not like young ladies who are naughty,’ the smile had certainly been there.
Mandy had not been too sure whether she should make any acknowledgement to the statement. Better stay silent. What could she say anyway? If she agreed it might somehow be misinterpreted by the older woman into the thought that Mandy would accept any consequences of any misbehaviour. And that certainly was not the case. Mandy certainly did not agree with the idea that she should be punished if she was considered naughty.
‘And if I consider that you have been naughty, Mandy,’ there had been that unmistakeable glint of steel in the eyes, ‘then I shall sadly have to punish you. Punish your bottom, that is. I think all naughty young ladies should be punished on their bottoms. Bare bottoms,’ she seemed to think that Mandy might misunderstand her point but the young Mandy could only sit there, open-mouthed and her eyes registering misbelief that her ears were not actually deceiving her.
It was unheard of. Whoever would have believed that this upstanding woman who was to undertake Mandy’s deportment and preparation should have to even think of spanking her bottom.
It was unheard of. Whoever would have believed that this upstanding woman who was to undertake Mandy’s deportment and preparation should have to even think of spanking her bottom.
Then Mrs Stacey had gone on to greater underline her point of the use and importance of discipline. There had been a mention of the cane! Mandy’s senses were reeling by the time she went up the staircase and into the small room that was to be her nightly abode for the next two weeks.
It is a fact of nature. The more one is determined to avoid the threats of punishment, the more are the situations that project one into them!
‘Mandy!!’ the dark-haired young woman quailed.
The call had come from the top of the stairs in the region of the bathroom. Her high heeled shoes were not shaped for hurrying up carpeted stairs but she eventually arrived feeling flushed and slightly breathless.
‘Yes, Mrs Stacey,’ her voice had a tone of respect mixed with fear.
‘Didn’t we agree that the bath must always be left clean. Pristine clean in a manner in which we find it.’
The voice defied argument and the face defied Mandy to look back into the eyes. Mandy was not prepared to argue and she certainly was not going to look into the dreadful anger of those eyes.
As she shuffled her feet so she could see the tell-tale tide mark round the bath. The towels were draped over a chair and the soap was still actually in the bath.
‘I… I was going to clean it… Honestly,’ she tried to assure the wrathful woman.
‘When? Tomorrow?… The next day,’ the venom of Mrs Stacey’s voice had been replaced by spearing sarcasm.
‘I… I…’ Mandy was inwardly trembling.
‘You will go to the small room. You know where I mean, don’t you?’
Oh no. She could not mean it. Mandy knew exactly where the small room was and she knew for what purpose it was used. It had one chair. A chair that was a very important piece of furniture as far as Mrs Stacey was concerned. Whereas most chairs were sat upon, this one had been used for more knees than Mrs Stacey could remember! It was a highly-polished white piece of stout furniture and Mandy had viewed it with apprehension when Mrs Stacey had explained the use to which the chair was sometimes put.
The information had done little to reassure the attractive Mandy, and now, on legs that she felt certain were about to buckle under her, she made her way to the dreaded room. She almost collapsed into the soft padding of the seat. Even now, as she sat there, she felt ice-cold fingers tracing cold lines up and down her back.
Up to this morning, Mandy was sure she had made a good impression on Mrs Stacey. Only last night the woman had smiled gently when they had kissed goodnight. That had felt strange at first Mandy had thought. She had just been getting into bed wearing the short nightie thing that Mrs Stacey had laid out for her. The hem had not come down much below the indent of her navel. Then the door had opened and Mrs Stacey, still smiling benevolently had come into the room.
‘Have a good night’s rest,’ she had held the semi-clad Mandy and the younger girl had trembled in embarrassment at being so lightly attired. Then Mrs Stacey had kissed her lightly, warmly even on her soft mouth and there had been that gentle pat of the hand on her bum. The bum had had nothing on it right then and the palm of the hand, gently patted in a friendly fashion, but a long time after the light had been put out, Mandy’s mind had recalled that intimate touch from Mrs Stacey.
It was something she was determined to avoid at all costs. No more of this goodnight-kissing business. If she tried it on tomorrow then Mandy felt that she would have to tell her that she did not like it!
Now, as she sat there waiting in a helpless state of dejection, Mandy could only think of the shame that was to enter her young life when Mrs Stacey came through the door. I just can’t sit here and let her think she can get away with such a barbaric act. I am twenty years of age and I know that she has no business, no right to think that she can treat me in such a humiliating manner. It is not on. I just shan’t do it. The more thought she gave to it so the greater became her determination. What would her friends think if ever they got to know about such childish treatment? She started to make up little speeches of protest and argument in her mind and right up to the time when Mrs Stacey came through the door, she was more determined to attempt to dissuade the older woman from carrying out her threat.
‘Mrs Stacey…’ she started to speak and then was struck into confused silence. The woman had a cane in her hand!! A yellow and very purposeful-looking length of cane. Mandy felt her mouth go dry at the sheer preposterousness of Mrs Stacey thinking that she was going to use such a terrible instrument on her. And on her bottom too!! Well, she wasn’t and that was that.
‘Stand up Mandy,’ the ice cold voice was full of an authority that Mandy had never before in her life encountered.
‘Mrs Stacey,’ her own voice did not seem to have any conviction at all about it!! It sounded weak and helpless even as she stood up Mandy felt that she needed to speak with a lot more strength.
‘Mrs Stacey…’
‘Kneel on the chair,’ she pointed to the cushion-padded seat.
Was the woman deaf? She had not even acknowledged the fact that Mandy had spoken.
And now she was actually kneeling on the chair!!
‘Mrs Stacey…’ instead of the words coming out clear and strong, her voice was weaker than ever.
‘Bend over, naughty Mandy.’
‘No… Mrs Stacey… you can’t… mustn’t…’ she choked as she bent over the back of the chair!!
This was ridiculous. She was arguing. She was telling Mrs Stacey that she would not in any way accept this humiliating treatment and the sharp tone of the authoritarian woman was making her obediently responsive.
‘Mrs Stacey!! No… No… please… you mustn’t,’ her choking sound of surprised reaction came through clear now.
The older woman had actually lifted her dress. All the way up so that her tight-fitting white panties were exposed. And so were the rounded cheeks of her bottom.
‘These will have to come down.’
‘Ooooh… no… no… pleeease,’ the wretchedness of Mandy’s voice sounded as a shocked tone in the small area of the room.
Why did she still remain bending like this? She had been determined that there would be no capitulation to the severe austerity of Mrs Stacey. Yet, here she was, obediently letting her panties be taken down so that her bottom would be bared and properly positioned for the spanking that Mrs Stacey was determined to give her. And now she could feel the panties stretching between her thighs. A white bridge of cloth from one leg to the other. And her bum was nakedly exposed; this was emphasised upon the kneeling girl when she felt the other women’s hand, not patting as it was last night, but rather feeling the texture of the smooth skin as it stretched tautly in the act of bending.
No! Mrs Stacey… I cannot stay like this and let you punish me… it is too undignified… I don’t like it… I can’t… I won’t,’ Mandy had intended to sound forcibly strong in her complaint, but mind and voice were not in cohesion… her voice was weak and it was a small sound… too small to carry the conviction she so desperately needed right now.
Mrs Stacey did spank the rounded bared cheeks but there was not the strength in the palms that one would have expected.
‘You will always do as you are told young lady,’ the strong voice reminded the trembling Mandy. ‘Understand?’
‘Yesss… but… please… I don’t like being spanked… please… I want to pull my panties up… no more… no… nooo,’ she shuddered and gasped still in that small-toned voice.
‘Now stand up,’ Mrs Stacey’s voice was far from timid and weak!
It had that authoritarian tone that refused to recognise any protest whatsoever. Mandy, uncertain and now demoralised beyond the realms of her own belief at what was happening to her stood shakily.
‘Mrs Stacey… you can’t be serious.’
The voice took on a tone of shocked surprise and misbelief.
‘Strip, Mandy. Every stitch off.’
‘Oh Mrs Stacey… no… please… that is too shameful… you can’t expect me to take my clothes off,’ her eyes too were showing a decided misbelief at what the woman was demanding.
Mrs Stacey did not have to repeat her demanding instructions, because even as she protested, Mandy’s fingers were fussing with the buttons of her upper clothing.
When she was in her black T-type vest blouse, she was easing it over her head without another word being spoken.
She was still shaking her head ‘no’ as her full shapely breasts sprang free of her upper garment. Mrs Stacey stood watching, the cane tapping the side of her own leg as she watched the skirt dropping to the floor.
Shamed more than she had ever been before in the whole of her life, Mandy looked down and all she was wearing were the high heeled polished shoes. Oh dear Lord, this is worse than awful…
‘Hands behind your back.’
In a state of protest and yet feeling completely unable to resist, Mandy placed her hands behind her back. She hated the way that Mrs Stacey was studying the nude points of her sexual curves. The high pointed nipples and the fluffy dark moss of hair… all this was under the apparent critical eyes of the older woman.
‘Kneel on the chair.’
The pointing cane was used to direct the hapless Mandy into position. She was still protesting that she could not, would not accept what she felt was a barbaric act and then she was kneeling up right… her hands once again resting on her bottom, her shoulders right back and her face expressing misery and shame at being so shamefully posed before this dominating woman.
‘Now. Once again bend over and reach for the bar.’
‘I don’t want to be caned… you must not… please do not cane me,’ Mandy was choking now.
Her soft breasts hung most attractively as her fingers clutched the bar that ran from one leg to the other at the rear of the chair.
Mrs Stacey was not showing any interest in the soft breasts, her eyes were glued to the rounded orbs of Mandy’s properly-posed bottom.
The cane rose and fell. It caused Mandy’s physical reaction of protest because she jumped up and then she was bending again… her body seemed now to be completely responsive to the falling stick. Each time it struck her buttocks, so she jumped up and each time she jumped up she was told to bend again. Her mouth echoed and re-echoed immediately after the sound of the cane striping her bottom was heard.
The terrible swish and then the hard thwack… a sound of response followed from Mandy and then Mrs Stacey’s voice snapping in angry command for her to bend again.
How many strokes had she taken? Mandy was certain that the skin of her bottom must look like a busy junction for trains… every part of her skin was responding to the fiery heat of cane lines.
Then she felt the cane stripe across her thighs. Another and different sound came now into the room… it had been totally unexpected but it had the effect of bringing Mandy to a different reaction.
It was ten minutes later that she was standing before the tartar… and she did not care what Mrs Stacey was looking at… she was too busy trying to soothe the hot skin of her bottom and the backs of her thighs… ‘Now go to your bedroom,’ the woman snapped.
Mandy fairly ran to her own small room… she had protested at everything Mrs Stacey had told her to do and yet she had still physically obeyed her. As she sniffed and sobbed, it occurred to her.
She had forgotten to tell Mrs Stacey that she must not kiss her goodnight… and neither must she come into her room unannounced!

Friday, 28 June 2019

Burning Bush

By Andrew Grantham from Janus 166
‘Enjoy your ride, Carly!’
‘Thank you, Mr Smith.’
The cheery response came from the blonde-haired, eighteen-year-old as she mounted her cycle and rode through the college gates.
Robert Smith, the respected Principal of the establishment was afforded a good view of the Head Girl’s long, graceful thighs as a sudden gust of wind raised up her grey, pleated uniform skirt. Carly casually brushed the garment back into place before riding off down the lane.
Her shapely buttocks overflowed the tiny, leather saddle and, as the rider leaned over the handlebars, their delightful roundness became more prominent. A ripple of excitement went through the Principal’s body as he beheld the lovely sight.
He sighed wistfully. Young Carly Bush had the most enchanting of bottoms. Mr Smith had, however, never seen that part of her — and he never would.
Corporal punishment had long been abandoned at the college. Discipline had fallen drastically as a result. Detention was hardly a deterrent. The mere threat of half-a-dozen stingers from a well-wielded cane had, in previous years, kept most of the girls in line for most of the time.
The ultimate deterrent was still expulsion but there was really nothing to beat the short, sharp shock of a serious caning.
The Principal eyed the shifting bum-cheeks of the pretty teenager as her white-stockinged legs pumped away at the bicycle pedals. Those luscious mounds would certainly benefit from a few visits of the crook-handled cane he had been forced to abandon.
‘I know where you are heading for, Miss Bush,’ the Principal uttered to himself, ‘and I also know what you are going to do when you get there!’
Robert Smith was aware that his blonde-haired charge was heading for the woods within the estate of Sir Peter Wembley-Smythe. Within the dense confines belonging to the Head of the college governors, Carly would find a suitable spot. There, she would swot up on her Shakespeare and the Wessex sagas of Thomas Hardy. That was all to the good but, whilst she would be exercising her brain, she would also be damaging her lungs. He knew that Carly would be smoking in the woods. There was no point in following and surprising her in the act — not without the authority of the cane. The prospect of a sound thrashing had always kept tobacco consumption at a low level amongst the girls at the college. The disappearance of the stick had changed all that and the uppity minxes had taken full advantage of the so-called ‘enlightened treatment’.
Carly disappeared from his view and the Principal turned away. At least his Head Girl would be reading up on the classics during the usual Wednesday half-day.
She cycled along at a steady pace and, before long, reached a gap in the stone wall encircling the big, country estate. It was quite a way from the Hall itself and nowhere near where the game birds were reared. The pathway she chose was narrow and rough but could be cycled over with care.
Carly knew exactly where to go and soon she was dismounting in a fair-sized clearing, where she leaned her cycle against an ageing tree. She unfastened her striped tie and looked upwards. The sky was cloudless and the sun’s rays would have an unlimited passage across the space between the tree tops.
She twisted her head and unhooked the pleated skirt, which fell to the ground. Nimbly, she stepped out of the discarded garment and bent to roll down her white, knee-length stockings. Carly was taking the opportunity to indulge in some sun-worshipping. Had anyone been watching, they would have been very impressed by the sight of the blonde’s long and athletically-curved legs.
Carly made short work of the white uniform shirt buttons and soon it had joined her skirt in an untidy heap.
The blonde’s undergarments were matching. Both items were white in colour and very skimpy in cut. A couple of stray, golden curls peeped over the low-slung top of the snugly-fitting mini briefs. Carly did not shave her mound. She liked to prove that she was a natural blonde.
The cups of her bra clung to what promised to be delightful contents were they to be revealed. Carly made a quick decision to do so.
She reached behind her back, unsnicked the catch, slid the thin straps down her slender arms and pulled the garment away from her body.
Carly’s youthfully-firm breasts were nicely proportioned and superbly shaped. The fresh air caused the dainty, pink nipples to perk up a little. She stretched her lithe, creamy-skinned frame and her lovely summits rose up and parted with her movement.
Then she moved towards her bicycle. All the time her teenage breasts gently bobbed and swayed in an erotic motion. Out of the basket came Twelfth Night rather than Tess of the d’Urbervilles. She also withdrew an already opened packet of cigarettes and a disposable lighter.
Carly selected a suitable spot and sat comfortably with her back against a sawn-down tree stump. She inhaled filtered smoke into her lungs before beginning to swot up on the antics of Malvolio and Sir Toby Belch.
It was midway through the second act before Carly lit up again. She felt very relaxed. The spot she had chosen was quiet and peaceful and it was very warm. The sixth former tried to stay awake but, eventually, she nodded off.
‘Good Lord!’
Carly awoke at the sudden sound of the young male voice in close proximity.
‘Oh!’ she cried, instantly wide awake and horrified to see a young man staring down at her. There was a smile on his rugged, yet handsome features. Carly was also horrified to see smoke rising from the tinder dry undergrowth — obviously the result of a carelessly discarded cigarette.
Instinctively, she crossed her arms in front of her to conceal her breasts.
‘It’s a bit late for covering up your tits,’ he drawled. ‘Anyway, I think you should first of all help me to put out this fire you started.’ He stretched out an arm and Carly found herself accepting the proffered hand. As she was slowly hauled to her feet, she was aware of the shirt-sleeved, dark-haired young man closely inspecting her bared breasts. It was very embarrassing — even more so than being responsible for starting the, as yet, small fire.
‘I saw the smoke and came to investigate,’ he explained, stamping on the ground where the grass was smouldering. It’s a good job I did.’ He looked up at her. ‘Otherwise those nice titties of yours would be turned to toast.’
Carly’s face turned as red as the fires they were extinguishing. She did not care for the man’s talk but she could hardly complain. Keeping her head down, she trampled on the burning ground with her black, leather shoes.
‘Put some more energy into it!’ he chided.
Carly knew she just had to see the fire properly extinguished before her well-ogled breasts could be re-united with her bra. She complied with his order, the extra exertions causing her lovely up-top assets to bounce and shake dramatically. A quick glance at the man confirmed that he was, indeed, more interested in her semi-nudity than he was in the firefighting.
Between the pair of them, the small flames were soon extinguished, although smoke still rose from the scorched area.
‘Look, I’m very sorry,’ apologised Carly, not now bothering to cover up her boobs.
‘I hope that college of yours gives you a darned good hiding,’ growled the young man.
‘That doesn’t happen nowadays!’ riposted Carly. ‘We get detentions instead but, anyway, there’s no need to tell…’
‘I’ll just have to take the law into my own hands, then,’ announced the estate employee. ‘I’ll give you a good hiding to teach you a lesson.’
He strode towards her clothes, gathered them up, placed the pile on top of the tree stump and sat down on the now cushioned surface. Then he beckoned Carly with a forefinger and meaningfully patted his thighs.
‘You’ll do no such thing!’ Carly stood in front of him with her hands on her hips, so causing her fine bosom to jut out — much to the man’s obvious amusement. ‘Give me back my clothes!’
‘When I’ve smacked your bottom,’ was the nonchalant reply.
‘I can’t believe this,’ sighed Carly, shaking her head.
‘Look at that!’ The man pointed to the scorched earth and undergrowth. ‘Is that believable?!’
‘I said I’m sorry,’ sighed the young girl.
‘Saying you are sorry isn’t enough!’ retorted the man, whom Carly now thought was probably the gamekeeper. ‘Retribution must be made. If that college you go to won’t smack arses, then I’ll do it for them!’
‘I’m going!’ announced Carly, moving towards her cycle.
‘You’ll get yourself arrested,’ laughed the man. ‘That would serve you darned well right.’
The blonde halted in her tracks. Of course, she could hardly cycle back to the college as she was! Carly felt her resolve weakening.
‘I’m not going to take your knickers down, if that’s what’s worrying you,’ he assured her.
‘That’s good of you,’ sniffed Carly, disdainfully.
She was aware that her resolve was weakening even more. Having her bum smacked would certainly be something new — something she might even brag about to the rest of the girls.
‘My knickers stay put?’ Carly had indeed surrendered.
‘Guaranteed,’ confirmed the man. ‘What’s your name by the way?’
‘Carly,’ she told him, aware of erotic feelings beginning to stir within her body. ‘What’s yours?’
‘Michael,’ was the response. Carly noted the use of his full name and not the usual abbreviation.
He held out his hand and Carly took hold of it. Next thing, she was across his lap, his work trousers rough against her bare skin.
This was something entirely new for Carly. All manner of feelings were swirling through her tummy. She was glad her knicks were going to stay in place, though.
The ‘knicks’ as she called them only concealed her most feminine part. Most of her twin mounds bulged provocatively from either sides of the skimpy briefs. The flesh was creamy-soft and nicely rounded.
Michael placed his left hand on the small of her back. Carly shuddered slightly at the touch.
‘Ready?’ he enquired, warning her that he was about to begin.
A split second later and there was an explosive report as the man’s hand struck the teenager’s buttocks. It caused Carly to catch her breath and a stinging began where sharp contact with her exposed buttocks had been made.
She was just beginning to cope with what had happened when her backside was jolted again. Carly didn’t cry out but she emptied her lungs and began to squirm a little.
Her earlier inquisitiveness had suddenly departed. She had thought she might experience some sexual titillation but that was not proving to be the case.
‘Oww!’ Carly cried out for the first time. Hurt had now flared up in her backside. It eased into a sting before the next blow came.
‘Oww!’ Already, the heat in her bottom was quite intense. She began to roll from side to side on the man’s lap. Her legs were moving about and she was glad of the concealment provided by her mini-briefs.
‘Ooh!’ The previous slaps to Carly’s behind had covered both hummocks, with the heel of Michael’s hard hand landing on her left cheek and his splayed-out fingers on its twin. Now, his scorching palm had delivered a crisp blow to the exposed flesh on the right of her covered-up crease. It caused her to bounce and twist in his lap, so much so that his free arm now encircled her waist to keep her in place.
‘Oooh!’ Her left bum-cheek received the same treatment. With her body now unable to move as freely as before, Carly began to kick her legs in an abandoned manner.
‘When are you going to stop?’ she gasped.
‘When your backside gets as hot as that area you set on fire with your carelessness!’ was the answer she didn’t want to hear.
‘It is now,’ she quickly responded.
She then felt Michael placing the backs of his fingers on each hot cheek in turn, testing the temperature of the red-splodged bum-flesh.
‘A long way from boiling point,’ he cheerfully announced.
Carly closed her eyes and tensed her body in readiness for the continuing onslaught.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!
‘Owwwwowww!’ Carly humped up and down, Michael easing his restraint somewhat to allow her to do so. She didn’t need the benefit of biology lessons to tell her that the young gamekeeper was deriving sexual pleasure from what he was doing! He needn’t think…!
The girl from the college had been expecting a single blow and the flurry of smacks had been a surprise — and a very painful one at that! Her legs flailed wildly in what would have been an obscene manner had it not been for the dutiful wedge of white nylon concealing her most private part.
The fire in her bottom seemed more deep-seated and her hot nates contracted and then briefly relaxed in their reaction to the hard hits.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
Michael’s hand collided with the squirming summits at high velocity, each time its pain-laden journey being halted by the rounded-out, scorching flesh.
‘Owwwwww!’ Carly wailed as her body contorted in reaction. Her bottom weaved this way and that in its efforts to shake away the raging hurt within.
‘Michael! What on earth is going on?’
The sudden sound of another man’s voice caused Carly’s cry to halt abruptly. Oh God! Someone else was going to see her like this! How awful!
‘I came to investigate the smoke, Sir Peter.’
Carly froze. She twisted her head but could not see the new arrival who was standing right behind her. It was, of course, none other than Sir Peter Wembley-Smythe, the landowner and also the Head of the college governors!
‘That’s what first attracted me, Michael,’ she heard the man say. ‘Then I heard the cries and thought you had snared a fox or something. I most certainly did not expect to see what seems to be a wood-nymph!’ His manner was jocular now that he had got over the surprise.
‘She agreed to a good hiding, Sir Peter,’ began the gamekeeper.
All manner of thoughts were swirling around within Carly’s brain. Suddenly, her bum-cheeks didn’t seem to be hurting so much. ‘I thought it better to deliver a summary punishment, rather than involve the college.’
‘Quite so.’ Sir Peter confirmed his agreement and now moved to stand in front of the woeful, submissively-positioned pupil. She stared up at him with moist eyes.
‘She was in this state of undress when I got here,’ informed the younger man. ‘I promised she could keep her knickers on — if that’s the right word to describe them.’
‘You’re the Head Girl, aren’t you?’ enquired the baronet, peering down at her.
‘Yes, sir,’ croaked Carly, before being subjected to a lecture about responsibility and setting an example.
‘Stand her up please, Michael,’ instructed the landowner.
Carly wondered whether or not she should conceal her breasts. Suddenly, she didn’t have a choice to make. Michael simply hooked his arms under her armpits and, as he rose up, Carly was forced to follow, giving the older man a full view of her shapely, jutting breasts. Michael held onto her upper arms, positioning her as though he were displaying a trophy to his employer — which, in a way, he was.
Poor Carly felt how a slave must have felt as the college governor ogled her semi-nudity. She had never felt so embarrassed in her young life.
‘I was about halfway through when you arrived, Sir Peter,’ said Michael.
Carly felt relieved. Only halfway through! Thank goodness that Sir Peter had arrived when he had done!
‘You don’t mind if I carry on do you, Michael?’
The blonde girl’s world suddenly collapsed once more. Her jaw dropped open. The fire in her bottom seemed to have re-ignited itself.
‘Not at all, Sir Peter,’ was the instant response.
‘Cut me a switch about three feet long, would you please,’ the landowner asked of Michael. He then addressed the dejected girl. ‘I hope you still use feet and inches in the college and not that metric rubbish!’
Carly was too shocked to respond. She had just realised what was about to happen! Now freed, her hands flew to her hot bum-cheeks, more as a shield than as comforters. She watched in horror as the men selected a very thin branch of a tree she did not know the name of and the gamekeeper produced a sharp knife. He cut the pliable wood and then proceeded to trim it until it was cane-like in appearance.
‘Michael has already warmed up your bottom,’ remarked Sir Peter, returning his attention to Carly. ‘I’ll finish you off with ‘six of the best’ which Mr Smith would have been able to do in the good old days.’
‘Y…you… c…can’t!’ stammered the girl.
‘I can if you permit it.’ The man wagged a finger at her.
‘I assume, Sir Peter,’ Michael addressed his employer. ‘That as Head of the college governors, you will press for the expulsion of the culprit who caused the fire damage to your property. Unless…’
Carly’s stomach sank into her black, lace-up shoes.
‘Quite so, Michael. Quite so,’ nodded the landowner.
‘I agree,’ sighed the defeated and dejected Carly. At least it would soon be over and done with.
‘Position her over the stump, would you?’ the man asked of his employee.
Almost in a trance, the bare-breasted girl allowed the gamekeeper to manhandle her semi-naked form so that she was lying across the tree stump, with her tummy cushioned by her discarded clothing. It meant that her bottom was up-thrust and perfectly positioned for what was going to happen to it.
‘You do understand, young lady.’ Sir Peter’s voice came from behind her. ‘I am not bound by the promise which Michael gave you regarding the retention of your knickers.’
‘Oh!’ Poor Carly was horrified. This was just awful. It was so degrading.
‘Do the honours please, Michael,’ requested the man of his gamekeeper.
Carly felt the young man’s strong, rough hands on her bare, sensitive skin. Her briefs were then unceremoniously dragged away from her behind. Michael even went to the length of removing the miniscule garment altogether.
Carly was well aware that an inspection would be taking place, and indeed it was. Both men were staring appreciatively at the sight presented to them.
The exposed, bare globes were fully rounded and deeply clefted. There was a triangle of still light-coloured skin denoting where the briefs had offered some, though scant, protection from the gamekeeper’s hard-hitting hand. Carly clamped her thighs together to minimise the visibility of her pussy, although she could not entirely prevent it.
Now she could see the older man’s feet shuffling into position. The touch of the wood on her fully-bared bottom caused her to flinch.
Whirr! Carly bit her lip and clenched her already sore bum-cheeks in anticipation of a different kind of hurt to the one she had already experienced.
‘Yowww!’ The girl gave out a screech as a line of flame shot across her summits. Her head came sharply up and her pelvis made lewd thrusting movements against the supporting tree stump. Carly did not hear the second stroke coming but she was instantly aware of its abrupt arrival.
‘Yeeeooww!’ Another ear-piercing cry echoed around the clearing. The crown of her buttocks received the force of the strongly-applied switch. Instant hurt was delivered which was not lessened by the wood’s recoil from the youthful, springy flesh.
Carly bounced up and down on her timber support. Her beaten bottom jerked and writhed. Her athletic-looking thighs abandoned their guardianship of the girl’s precious, dewy secret lying between them. The naked college girl’s femininity was, of course, the object of both men’s scrutiny.
The third stroke was a little longer in coming.
‘Aaaaooowwhh!’ Carly’s full-throated cry and lewd contortions bore testament to her suffering. So too did the three distinctive lines across her shapely globes. They showed up most clearly on the creamy skin between the already rouged areas which had not been covered by her briefs.
The girl’s body sagged wearily across the cushioned top of the stump. Her bottom felt like a blazing cauldron. She was just grateful that the college had abandoned corporal punishment. It was no wonder her predecessors had been so well behaved!
Sir Peter’s arm slowly raised the wicked-looking wand. It quivered as he paused and then fairly flew on a downwards are to land and sink into the resilient girl-flesh before, rebounding away.
‘Yowwwwwweeowww!’ Carly yelled out, her cry seeming to carry for ever in the open air.
She ground her pelvis against the cushioned stump in an obscene fashion. Pain was penetrating further into her body.
Michael watched the proceedings impassively with his arms folded whilst Sir Peter raised the whippy wood high into the air.
Carly’s red-hued and crimson-striped bottom was given barely any recovery time before the baronet sent the makeshift instrument of correction speeding down to add further to both her mental and her physical anguish.
The girl’s tired lungs emitted a bellow in reaction and the wild squirmings of her body caused a further immodest parting of her attractive legs. The men’s eyes took full advantage of the opportunity presented to them.
‘Only one more to go,’ announced Sir Peter, resting the lean and mean length of wood on one shoulder as he waited for the college girl’s shapely, desecrated orbs to still. ‘Then that’s the end of the matter. The college shall not hear of it.’
Carly actually managed to croak a ‘Thank you, sir.’
Whirr! She tensed her severely sore nates in readiness.
The sound of the pliable twig striking the sacrificial hummocks was loud and clear. The college Head Girl’s politeness had not caused Sir Peter to lessen the severity of the final stroke.
‘Yowwweeeeaagghh!’ screeched Carly.
Further fire was added to the conflagration already raging throughout the blonde’s beleaguered behind.
Suddenly, she pushed herself up to a kneeling position and with tears coursing down her pretty, but woebegone features, she frantically rubbed her castigated bum-cheeks in an effort to give them some comfort.
Robert Smith saw Carly arrive back at the college. Strangely, she was pushing her bicycle instead of riding it. She was walking in a rather funny way and it looked as though she had been crying. She must have been reading Thomas Hardy, he thought!