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Thursday, 11 July 2019


From Blushes 21
The window seat was hard and unyielding. Lorna’s mind felt as woolly as… well, as woolly as cotton wool. She simply couldn’t concentrate. Perhaps the strange surroundings didn’t help. There was something ominous about them. Indeed there was something very ominous about the fact she was in this place at all.
‘We only send a girl to Mr Ranger as a last resort,’ the Head had said.
‘And only if we know that girl has ability but somehow failed to make use of it…’ added her Deputy.
‘One might call that mental laziness,’ said the Head rather acidly.
Lorna had sat there in the study resignedly. She knew she hadn’t been making sufficient effort in recent months. She knew she was capable of better things. But there seemed so much else to think about. To dream about. At 18, she didn’t feel she was a schoolgirl any more but rather, a young woman. Certainly she had the figure and emotions of a young woman.
‘I’m sorry, Miss Mackenzie,’ she had said, with a meekness she did not feel, ‘I don’t know what’s happened to me lately.’ The Head had nodded.
‘But we think we do,’ she had said. ‘That’s why you’re going on a short course with Mr Ranger. You won’t be the first and you won’t be the last. He’s a specialist in such situations as yours, Lorna.’
‘And,’ the Deputy had added, ‘every girl who’s been on his course has passed her finals.’ A faint, knowing smile.
‘Quite so.’ The Head again. ‘Now Lorna, behave yourself and work hard. It’s for your own good. Remember, Mr Ranger has our full authority. We, in turn, have the full authority of your guardian to send you on this course.’ A letter waved.
He would give authority for something unpleasant, Lorna had thought angrily. She and her guardian had never seen eye to eye.
So Lorna had packed a small suitcase and the Deputy had driven her the twenty odd miles to this rambling old mansion on the slopes of the Highlands. It looked bleak from the outside and was cold and cavernous inside. The Deputy had seen her to the front door, then left her there. ‘Don’t forget, Lorna,’ had been her parting words, ‘this is only a short course, but it is a sharp one, too. Do your very best… and good luck.’
Then she was gone. What on earth did she mean by ‘sharp’, wondered Lorna? A middle-aged woman, whom she rightly took to be sort of housekeeper, had conducted Lorna to a small bedroom right at the top of the house.
‘Mr Ranger will see you downstairs, in an hour’s time,’ the woman had said, quite kindly. ‘After I’ve brought you some tea on a tray.’
‘Thank you…’ It seemed best to be polite, even if one felt resentful. Dumped in a lonely, gloomy place like this.
‘You’ll find his study quite easily. It’s got a sign on the door.’
Well, now Lorna was in that study, awaiting Mr Ranger’s return. He had turned out to be far younger than she had expected and was most casually dressed. Not the sort of man to run a ‘special’ course, she reflected, even if his spectacles and serious mien did give him a somewhat academic air. She had imagined he would turn out to be some huffy, old headmaster. But no. Perhaps things wouldn’t be so bad. She was now glad she had put on a rather frothy — and somewhat sexy white blouse, although she still wore the kilt which was obligatory at school. However, that was quite short and Lorna was aware she had good legs. Mr Ranger, at that first interview, seemed to be studying her with considerable interest.
However, he’d left her with a large volume of Shakespeare’s works… and instructions to learn stinkingly difficult passages, one from the Merchant of Venice and one from Romeo and Juliet. All that business about Queen Mab, the fairies’ midwife. A lot of gibberish. She simply couldn’t get it to stay in her mind. Why should she try? It was impossible to learn so much in such a short space of time. He must appreciate that.
He came back with sudden abruptness whilst Lorna was daydreaming about the volume idle on her lap. Once more he stood before her. ‘Well then, let’s see how you’ve got on.’ Very brisk; eyes sharp.
‘Not very well, I’m afraid…’
‘Sir,’ he said.
She felt angry. ‘Not very well, sir,’ she said. ‘There wasn’t much time…’
‘Let me be the judge of that. Anyway, you’ve had plenty of time, if you’ve been concentrating properly. Start with the piece from the Merchant of Venice.’
Lorna put down the volume and began… getting to the fourth line without too much trouble. ‘It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.’ After that mistakes came thick and fast. Several times he told her to refer again to the text.
‘Appalling,’ he stated, when she stumbled to an incorrect conclusion. ‘Especially from a girl with your brains. I’ve seen your records. Sheer laziness. Let’s try the piece from Romeo and Juliet.’
Lorna felt suddenly weak inside. He was looking at her so sternly. She no longer felt like a young woman but was back as a schoolgirl again. How could he make her feel like that. She resented it. ‘I…I’m afraid I couldn’t take it in at all,’ she said. ‘Sir…’ she added quickly.
‘What!’ He looked quite astounded. Almost as if she had committed some heinous crime. Was everyone expected to do whatever he demanded, she asked herself? Perhaps that was what the Deputy had meant by ‘sharp’. ‘Such mental laziness is quite intolerable.’ The Head’s words. ‘No wonder you were sent here.’ He paused, giving her a hard look. ‘Fortunately, such a condition can be remedied.’
Then, to her surprise, Mr Ranger suddenly seated himself alongside her, very close. What was he up to? Going to make a pass? Perhaps the fact that she had deliberately kept her skirt pulled almost indecently high, was about to pay dividends.
However, to Lorna’s much greater surprise — indeed, shock — she found herself suddenly gripped and hauled across his thighs. She shrieked.
‘W-whatever… are you doing?’ Her voice rose to a falsetto.
‘What I am doing, Lorna,’ he said resolutely, but in a quite matter-of-fact way, ‘is putting you across my lap in order to give you a damn good spanking.’
‘Ohh… you wouldn’t… dare… you wouldn’t!’ Her mind was in a turmoil. This was madness. She was 18! Far too old to be spanked!
But her tartan skirt was already coming up. Panic made her struggle and kick wildly but it was absolutely no use. He seemed to have a grip of iron. ‘I have full authority,’ he was saying. ‘From your guardian… and your teachers.’
‘Not for this… no…ooo!’ They couldn’t have permitted this! She knew she had on only the skimpiest of white briefs. Really… it was positively indecent! She wasn’t even wearing tights; a white suspender belt supported her stockings. They were beginning to be the ‘in’ thing again; but now Lorna was regretting she had followed the fashion.
‘Why do you think you were sent here, Lorna?’ he demanded. ‘To get a short, sharp lesson. To make you wake your ideas up! That’s why.’
‘No…ooo… YOU MUSTN’T!’ She froze, half paralysed by what was actually happening. He was pulling her briefs down!
He quite ignored her. I’ve smacked dozens of bottoms from your school, lassie,’ he was saying calmly. ‘And all of their owners have gone back the better for that…’
Her briefs were right down! Her bottom was absolutely bare! Oh the hideous shame of it! ‘Stoopp it… stoo…ppp!’ He really was going to spank her. It was unbelievable. Had the whole world gone mad? Yet he seemed quite unconcerned by her struggles, pleas and shrieks.
‘A good smack-bottom is the greatest brain-stimulator I know,’ he was saying, over the din she was making. ‘Of course, a girl’s got to have brains in the first place. But… this… certainly makes her use them!’
This… was a resounding slap on Lorna’s left buttock-cheek, which momentarily left her breathless. Getting it back, she yelled loudly, with anger as much as pain. Then she lost her breath again as an equally stinging slap descended on her right buttock cheek. Another yell of rage and pain.
‘H-how… dare you… ooohhh… how dare you!’ she managed to shriek out, before two more stinging slaps came down. Lorna had never imagined a simple palm could hurt so much. But it seemed like a piece of wood. It positively blazed!
‘Oh yes… it’s a great stimulator,’ he said almost jovially, it seemed. That enraged Lorna even further.
‘Ooohhh… you can’t do this… OOHHHH… you’ll pay for this… you will… you will! she almost screamed.
He simply laughed. And the slaps continued to descend with resounding force on Lorna’s now madly-bouncing and violently-twisting bottom. Sheer pain was beginning to outstrip her fury.
First one lush-curving cheek, then the other. Really hard. Rhythmically falling every two seconds or so. The flesh beginning to feel as if it were being roasted.
‘Stooppp… it… that’s enough!’
Mr Ranger, however, had no intention whatever of stopping. It was a principle of his to make a first spanking a really sound one. He took a firmer grip and continued to smack with zealous relish. This was certainly the part of his special course which he found most enjoyable. He was not ashamed to admit it. What’s more, this 18-year-old’s bottom was one of the best he had seen for some time. A treat to deal with!
She’d stopped pleading now, he noticed. She must have realised it was useless but, also, because now she was so choked with sobs and tears, she had no room for it. Excellent! The stimulation was proving most stimulating!
Down to the thigh-tops… even a few across the thighs themselves… then back up that delightfully curving behind again. Now it was glowing hot, a bright red in colour. And Lorna, becoming weak and unresisting — though with her bottom still bouncing under each impact — was sobbing like a little child.
She had, thought Mr Ranger, been well softened up. His hand ceased to rise and fall. The girl remained across his knees, even though he had released her. She continued to sob in the same childish way. Good… good. All had gone exactly as he would have wished. No matter how hard and long you spank a girl, he reflected, looking down at the quivering-burning flesh, it does her no permanent harm. Indeed, all traces of such treatment vanish remarkably quickly, even if they hurt most profoundly at the time. That, he always thought, were two of the great advantages of spanking as a punishment.
Or as a persuader to greater effort.
Mr Ranger, ‘the Specialist’, pulled up a stool, took a limp Lorna off his lap and seated her upon it. She let out a loud gasp at the contact and, understandably, tried to get up.
‘Stay where you are, lassie,’ he admonished. Lorna sat down again. And gasped again. She was, he realised, in quite a state of shock, which was customary at that stage. He had, however, fully established his authority. ‘Now, listen to me, Lorna,’ he said, waving an admonitory finger, ‘I am going to leave you for a further hour. Study those same passages again. Then I shall return and test you once more.’
The girl, eyes brimming with tears, looked at him aghast. ‘P-please…’ she began. But Mr Ranger didn’t stay. He made for the door, then turned. ‘By the way, you will keep your knickers down.’ His mouth twitched in a suggestion of a smile. ‘Just a little reminder.’ Then he was gone.
Lorna sat there, scarcely believing it had all happened. But the awful burning of her poor bottom assured her that it had! She tried to gather her mind together. To get over the shock. To do what she had to do. For now, she fully realised, she had to do it. Or it would happen again.
She opened the volume and, through a mist of tears, still sobbing, began to study the first passage again. At first her mind remained cloudy; reluctant to activate itself. That burning-burning constantly preoccupied her. Desperately, Lorna forced herself to take a grip. You must do it… you must! And, in her heart, she knew she could if she put her mind to it. That was a bitter realisation. Yes… it simply had been laziness.
Now she was being made to use the brain she had. Simply because of the pain in her bottom. Her sense of bitterness increased. As did her hate for — and fear of — that vile Mr Ranger! All the same, she was making the required effort to learn her lines. Lorna ground her teeth. What a humiliating defeat! At his hands. Literally.
Inevitably as night follows day, Mr Ranger returned, dead on time. Lorna seated, knickerless, on the window seat had done her very best. She thought she knew a very good part of both passages. He seated himself on the stool in front of her and Lorna felt slightly sick with dread.
‘Any improvement?’ he enquired. His features were set, yet she sensed he was gloating.
‘I… think s-so…’
‘I think so… sir.’ Oh yes, she really did hate him! Perhaps he’ll make me hate all men, she thought despairingly. No… that would hardly be possible.
‘I hope so. Let’s go through the Merchant of Venice again, shall we?’
Shall we? As if she had any option! Lorna collected her thoughts. Concentrated. Pity she didn’t have a photographic mind. But there you are. As it was, using the memory of her brain until it almost hurt, she got through the passage with scarcely a pause.
‘Only three errors,’ said Mr Ranger when she had finished. ‘That is an improvement. You see, you can do it when you try?’ Oh… she hated him even more!
Because his barbaric methods were being proved right. ‘Now we’ll move on to Romeo and Juliet. I admit, that is a more difficult piece to learn.’
Lorna felt a sense of relief. Perhaps he did have some heart after all. She, reluctantly, made herself concentrate her mind again. Then off she went:-
‘O! Then I see, Queen Mab hath been with you…
She is the fairies’ midwife and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate’s stone
On the finger of an alderman…’
It really was a lot of rubbish, she thought, but did not let her concentration lapse. All the same, she knew she had left out a line or two and got several phrases wrong by the time she had finished. Lorna felt mentally flaked. This learning of meaningless lines was sheer Hell. His idea, she supposed, anger bubbling up inside again.
‘Better,’ he said. ‘But by no means good enough…’
‘I tried… I really tried!’ she said almost desperately. An awful fear was gripping her. Surely he wasn’t going to spank her again? She shrank back as he stood up.
‘Kneel and bend over this stool,’ he ordered, eyes glinting hard.
‘Please… no… please… no more!’
‘You will do even better next time,’ he said, as if that were some kind of compensation. ‘Then you won’t have to be spanked, will you?’
Lorna felt overwhelmed by his presence. Weak. She knew if she didn’t do as he demanded, things would only be worse. ‘N-not… not… so h-hard… please.’
‘No… not so hard this time,’ he agreed. Then smiled almost pleasantly.
‘Because Lorna, you have improved!’ The bitterness rose in her throat again. How intolerable it was to know that what he was doing was improving her! She knelt and bent over the stool, starting to sob.
Mr Ranger was not as hard on the girl as before. Not by a long chalk. There was no need. Her bottom was still burningly tender. Just a moderate dozen or so slaps would suffice.
And that was what he gave his latest pupil.
As he had expected, she made a lot of fuss. She cried out, she begged, she squirmed and kicked. But she got her spanking just the same. Once more it reduced her to child-like sobbing.
‘You can get up now,’ said Mr Ranger. Once more, gasping out yet again, Lorna found herself back on the hard window seat. She saw him, through shimmering tears, smiling at her encouragingly. ‘Tomorrow is another day, Lorna. I am sure you will do even better, don’t you?’
‘Mmm… fff… y-yes… s-sir…’
Lorna was, in fact, very sure. It would certainly be better to make use of one’s brain than go through this kind of ordeal again. She stifled her bitter resentment as best she could. I’ll get my own back on him one day, she told herself. ‘May I ask… s-sir… how long this course lasts?’
He smiled again. ‘Three days minimum. Seven days maximum. That depends. On your improvement, I mean.’
Of course, he didn’t mean that at all. It was on the third day that ‘alternatives’ to spanking usually began to be offered. Sometimes on the second day, in exceptional cases. They were usually accepted.
This, he thought, could be one of those exceptional cases.
In which case, this very shapely young Lorna was almost certainly going to stay a week!


  1. Another classic. Thanks Flea

  2. All the Blushes hallmarks: defiant girl broken in by getting straight at her bare bottom. I realise I didn’t read these stories carefully enough when I bought my House of Blushes magazine collection. Thanks Fleas. Lorna is sure to quickly experience those alternatives to spanking - the cane and sexual intercourse. 7-day stay a certainty! Nights too of course.

  3. so good when theyre offered the choice of sex with a mature man they wouldn't look twice at or more punishment on their teasing arses

    1. Agreed. The authority role is perfect for that. The spanking and caning means they have to bare the pussy. From there it’s easy as they always think it will be the easy option to let you come inside them. The important thing is to cane them anyway afterwards. Lorna’s 7 days will mean she is sore front and back. Well done Blushes.

  4. I'm sure young ladies' application to their studies could be very greatly aided by the employment of bare bottom punishments, the use of the cane in particular. However, I can't help feeling that in many cases this would only work up to a certain point. You can take a horse to water but you can't make it drink and this I'm afraid is very likely to be the case with regard to the brain power of many a young sweetie. Nevertheless, that is no argument for not painfully seeking to push them beyond the limits of what their pretty young heads can possibly take in, with tearful frustration and despair making a most welcome and piquant addition to the disciplinary mix.

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