From New Blushes Uniform Girls 2.06
Monica’s new piano teacher, Mr Andrew Shalbert, had been very highly recommended by one of her mother’s friends. Apparently he had studied the piano at the Paris Conservatoire, and was now an exceptional teacher. Monica was already quite good and was keen to reach as high a level as possible. And she had the time to pursue it now. She and Edward had married nine months ago and Edward had a good job, he was an accountant, so Monica didn’t need to work and wasn’t planning to. She wanted to concentrate on the piano.
Sarah Malving, her mother’s friend, said the only thing was that Mr Shalbert was a bit of a disciplinarian. ‘Well, something of a martinet one could say,’ she added. Sarah Malving’s eyes had widened expressively. ‘You have to do what he wants. He can be very… ah… forceful.’
Monica didn’t enquire further about this. About this so-called forcefulness. Maybe she should have? But she didn’t foresee any problem. She assumed she would be happy to do whatever Mr Shalbert wanted.
But Monica hadn’t met Mr Shalbert yet.
When she did she immediately had some idea of what her mother’s friend had meant. Mr Shalbert was a well-built man with handsome grey hair, in his late fifties probably, with rather piercing blue-grey eyes. It was those eyes especially that struck you, or certainly struck Monica. They seemed to go right through her. Right through her light summer dress certainly. As if they could strip everything away and leave her helpless… and nude….
She found herself blushing under his frank and unwavering gaze. He had conducted her through into this splendid drawing room which had a concert piano to one side. His house, set in spacious grounds, was on the edge of the village and quite isolated. Monica had driven over from the nearby town where she and Edward were buying a small new house and her car was parked outside on the wide gravel turning area. Now standing in here with Mr Shalbert she had a panicky feeling of wanting to be back in her own house, or at least in the security of her little Peugeot. It was silly of course…
She forced herself to concentrate. He was asking about her piano work, in a cultured, urbane voice with just the trace of a European accent. Her answers weren’t coming out very articulately, and she realised her own voice sounded stilted and strained. It was ridiculous. She was just being stupid.
He smiled and turned, to go over to the piano. Sitting down he began effortlessly to play some Chopin. Then he abruptly stopped. Without turning round to her he said, ‘Lift up your skirt, Mrs Daltry. I’m sure you have very lovely legs. Lift it right up, round your waist.’
She was stunned. Standing there several paces behind him, Monica was unable to believe her ears.
Still not turning he said, ‘It’s a test. Of discipline, and also obedience. Because if I am going to work with you I shall require complete co-operation and obedience. So I am testing you. I repeat: lift your skirt up round your waist.’
Now he was turning on the piano stool, to face her. Monica could feel her cheeks burning, and her legs had a rubbery feeling. Trying to keep calm she made herself do it. Her hands numbly going to the hem of her pastel-coloured cotton dress and lifting it. As she did so she recalled that she hadn’t worn a slip, as it was a warm afternoon. So there was not much underneath. Just a black suspender belt fastening her white stockings, and a pair of very brief pale blue knickers.
‘Keep going,’ Mr Shalbert observed. ‘Right up round your waist….’
Face scarlet, she did it. Holding the dress high up round her waist. Mr Shalbert’s steely eyes were unwavering, focused it seemed on the bulge of her pussy in the tight little knickers. Somehow Monica forced herself to stand still…
‘Very good,’ he said after what seemed like an eternity. ‘That’s good. You can drop your skirt. Now come here and play something for me.’
She stumbled forward and clumsily sat on the stool. She was in no shape to play even the simplest thing.
‘Was that a big effort, Mrs Daltry? Monica…’
She stuttered out a heartfelt yes.
He laughed lightly. ‘You have lovely legs. In fact you’re a very lovely young woman altogether.’
Mr Shalbert’s hands came down softly on her shoulders.
The hands on her shoulders squeezed slightly. ‘But in need of discipline I am sure…’
It left her all on edge afterwards. Unsettled and unable to concentrate, scarcely able to think straight.
When Edward got home he asked how it had gone and she said, ‘OK. Very good!’ Trying to sound upbeat and pleased but she wasn’t feeling that at all. Partly she was annoyed with herself for meekly doing what Mr Shalbert told her. Lifting her skirt like that. She should have refused, said it was a ridiculous request. But Monica had been quite incapable of that. Not when facing Mr Shalbert’s eyes. They had been almost hypnotic…
He hadn’t done anything else, or made any other embarrassing requests. But… what might he demand the next time? Monica felt herself almost trembling at the thought.
And so she was very edgy throughout the evening. Several times snapping at Edward for no reason. But things got better when it was time for bed. She realised she wanted sex. A good screwing. No doubt it was partly to reduce the tension. But as well as that… had Mr Shalbert got her a little bit aroused? By making her show herself like that. Because, well, it was almost like a sexual submission. Having to stand meekly in front of him and do his bidding…
Monica’s next visit was the next afternoon…
She almost wanted to phone with some excuse to say she couldn’t come. It was ridiculous of course, she should be looking forward to her first proper lesson. But now she had this awful thing in her mind. What if he made the same request — or instruction? Could she refuse? Did she have the strength of will? Monica thought of those eyes… and felt weak.
She thought, well, at least she could wear something else under her dress. A slip or petticoat. But it wouldn’t make any difference if he was simply going to tell her to lift it up. And anyway wasn’t that negative thinking, when she was going to refuse any such request. Or she was trying to tell herself she would. So… as it was hot again she wore the same as before. Just a dress over her knickers and bra, with high heels and stockings and suspender belt again.
It started off alright. Or as well as she could expect. Mr Shalbert was courteous and charming. Ushering her in and then discussing pieces she knew. Then he asked her to play. He went over to sit at the table to listen. And of course Monica was very nervous…
She was aware of it affecting her playing. She could hear it. She was missing notes, and her phrasing was awful. She stopped for a moment and offered an embarrassed apology. Mr Shalbert didn’t answer. She began again…
After some minutes he asked her to stop. He was coming over, to stand behind her. He asked her to stand.
Getting up she felt it: a rising tingle of panic. He was going to bawl her out or something. Instead…
His two hands cupped her bottom. Intimately cupping under each ripe cheek with just her thin cotton dress and brief knickers between his hands and her bare flesh.
As she gasped he said, ‘Have you ever had it caned, Monica? This very shapely bottom. Or been given some other form of physical discipline? Because I think that is what you need….’
She spluttered something, and lurched away. He told her sharply to stand still.
‘You are in need of discipline, Monica. When I tell you to stand I expect just that. That you stand still. Yes, I fear you may have a complete lack of self-discipline. Which no doubt is a major contributor to that quite awful performance a few minutes ago.’
The hands were still holding her bottom. They jiggled the cheeks. ‘I think I shall have to treat you like a young schoolgirl, Monica. Do you understand me?’
It was dreadful. Worse than last time. He hadn’t yet made her lift her skirt but he was threatening much worse. Caning her bottom! And the fact was that a helpless young schoolgirl was just what she felt like. Up before some authoritarian headmaster, who could do just what he liked with her. And would…
‘Shall we have your dress off then? And have you bending over the table?’
It was impossible! He was proposing to actually do it! This couldn’t be happening. But if it was… she should tell him not to be silly. She wasn’t a helpless schoolgirl, she was a married woman. And she wasn’t possibly going to do such a thing…
With a final squeeze Mr Shalbert let go of her bottom. In that quiet but firmly authoritarian voice he told her to go over the table. Monica meekly complied, on legs that didn’t seem to belong to her. She felt like crying. He shouldn’t be ordering her around like this, but she was meekly doing whatever he said. Letting him squeeze and fondle her bottom. And now…
‘Alright, Monica. Shall we have the dress off please?’
Holding onto the table for support, as if her legs were going to collapse at any second, Monica did find her tongue.
‘No! I ca…can’t do that. I just want the p…piano lessons. Not…not…’
‘Look at me,’ he ordered quietly but firmly. ‘What I am going to do is entirely for your own good. To advance you need to improve greatly your self-discipline. Control is everything with the instrument. Receiving a little corporal punishment will give you the necessary training. Can you understand that?’
Monica weakly shook her head. But now it wasn’t just that imperious voice, she now had to face those magnetic eyes, looking right into her. She couldn’t face that gaze and despairingly looked away.
‘I told you to look at me, Monica? Do you find that so difficult?’
‘Ye…yessss…’ She was close to tears. Close to becoming a blubbing schoolgirl.
‘Well it’s the same thing, isn’t it? Control. You have no control. And that is what we are going to work on. Yes? So take your dress off, And do it now.’
She was doing it. Because she didn’t have any choice, any free will. There was just the feeling of being completely in the control of Mr Shalbert. Almost as if he had hypnotised her. All those thoughts she had had of what she was going to do and not do, they had come to nothing at all. Because here she was taking her dress off. Her pretty summer dress. Not just lifting it up round her waist like last time but taking it right off. So that Mr Shalbert could cane her. He was going to cane her bottom. It was unthinkable… but it was happening. She was letting it happen. Like a helpless schoolgirl.
She got the dress off. Clumsily, her hands and fingers not working properly, undoing the buttons, then stepping out of it. Underneath she was very scantily clad of course. She had worn white stockings again, with a narrow black suspender belt. A white lacy see-through bra, and very brief matching knickers. That was all. Monica had the desperate urge to cover herself, with her hands and arms, but Mr Shalbert told her to stand up straight.
Those eyes were frankly appraising her body. Her full tits in the skimpy bra, with her ripe nipples clear to see. And the bulge of her pussy in the tight and scanty pants.
‘Good. And I think we’ll have the knickers off too…’
Her hands were meekly obeying. The little knickers were coming down. To expose her completely. Her bottom and pussy anyway. Her bottom… which was going to be caned. And her pussy… her hand was covering it again but Mr Shalbert told her to take it away. Stand up straight. He was coming in close.
‘Another thing we will have to talk about is sex, Monica. Your sexual activity. Fucking. You are a married woman and your husband no doubt has his demands. And I expect you have your own need for it too.’
She shuddered. His hand was at her pussy. His fingers sliding in between her legs. In along the lips with their protection of soft furry hair.
‘Everything is inter-related of course. Artistic performance and physical needs. And with a healthy young woman her sexual activity… the fact that she is getting fucked regularly… and how often… it is all very relevant.’
His hand which had got her gasping came away. ‘But we won’t go into those details now, my dear. Now we need the cane. Your first taste of it I imagine. Can you bend over the table. Lie yourself across the top.’
The caning was dreadful. Worse than you could ever imagine. Not that Monica had had any time to think about it, when she had come out this afternoon she had had no idea… No conception that in no time at all she would be here. Spread over this table. With the fierce THWATTTT… of that whippy bamboo slicing into her bottom. Her nude bottom which was over the table’s edge, involuntarily thrust out, a ripe offering…
The pain of it, a red-hot stinging… she was yelling out. Because it was unbearable.
But it wasn’t just the pain, there was the whole thing. The mortification. Humiliation. Having abjectly to submit like this. Lying virtually naked across the polished table. Her legs squirming and jerking. And with nothing on, no knickers, she was displaying everything as she jerked and writhed. Monica’s sex. Her cunt. Completely on show for those eager, piercing eyes.
She had a long soak in the bath when she got home. Just lying there, her mind floating. Feeling dead. Whacked out. How was she going to face Edward? What was she going to tell him? And Mr Shalbert… he wanted her round there tomorrow afternoon. For more of the same no doubt. She couldn’t go…
Somehow Monica did manage to face Edward. Without just breaking down and blurting it all out. Somehow she managed to say yes, she had had a very good lesson, and Mr Shalbert was quite pleased with her.
That part was almost true. Mr Shalbert had said he was pleased. But he hadn’t meant her playing. He had meant the way she had submitted on the table. That cane. Which had got even worse later. He had changed her position to an even more awful one. Getting her up on the table on her back. With her legs up above her. A position that really displayed everything…
Monica did go again the next afternoon, though part of her wanted to phone and say she was ill. Or even maybe say she thought she couldn’t continue any more. Actually she didn’t really consider that option, just thought of the possibility. Well for one thing she was telling Edward that everything was fine and she was doing very well. And another thing was… had part of her actually got a little thrill from it?
Could that be possible? The thought might seem fantastic but was it possible, that a little part of her had! She might have got an actual turn-on at having to submit to Mr Andrew Shalbert! This older, sophisticated man who was cultured and charming but at the same time a tyrannical disciplinarian. Was it conceivable?
What he had done was quite impossible and utterly hateful — but could Monica also have got a thrill from it! No, it wasn’t conceivable. Was it?
So anyway Monica went again the next afternoon, which was Wednesday. Trembling and rather panicky again, but doing her best to keep control. And actually it wasn’t so bad, in one way at least. Although in another it was pretty awful.
He didn’t try to cane her again, or even make her display herself. She had been expecting, and fearing, something of that — and trying to tell herself she would refuse to co-operate this time. But anyway it didn’t happen. But there was something else, in its own way just as bad.
Questions. Awful embarrassing questions that he forced her to answer. About sex. Continuing that theme he had touched on last time, about artistic performance and physical needs being strongly related. Now he wanted details…
Standing behind her as she sat at the piano and with those big male hands on her shoulders. Mr Shalbert asked how often she and Edward did it. How often they fucked.
‘I need a straightforward and completely frank answer, Monica. That is another thing of course, you must be completely frank, completely honest…’
It was again impossible that he could insist on answers to such questions — but she was haltingly answering. Three or four times a week…
‘That is quite a high rate, Monica. And do you respond fully each time? Do you always have an orgasm? Do you come?’
She was answering that too. ‘U…usually… yes…’
‘So you are quite highly sexed, would you say? And what about last night. You had sex…?’
Yes they had.
‘Mmmm… I wonder, Monica. Were you possibly more responsive than usual? After being caned. That can heighten a young woman’s response of course. Having her bottom caned can make her extra responsive…’
He made her reply to that. And the fact was that she had been extra responsive with Edward. Had it been a result of being caned? Or the general agitation and emotion which her visit to Mr Shalbert had generated.
Monica was agitated now. It wasn’t only this awful questioning. Mr Shalbert’s hands had now moved down from her shoulders. Onto her breasts. His hands were mounding and squeezing her tits…
There was another visit the next afternoon, Thursday. Monica had been every afternoon this week. That friend of her mother who had recommended Mr Shalbert, Sarah Malving, had phoned the previous evening asking how things were going. And when Monica said a carefully controlled, ‘Very well thank you,’ had asked, ‘He’s not being too much of a tyrant?’
Did Mrs Malving have direct experience of Mr Shalbert’s methods? Could she guess what Monica was undergoing?
Monica had forced a nervous laugh. ‘No… No…’
On Wednesday just before she left he had said that for this next session he wanted her in a more formal dress. Something she might wear for a recital. He wanted to hear her play something in a more formal setting.
That was enough to make Monica doubly nervous of course. She chose her full-length shimmery blue dress which had an off-the-shoulder top. With black stockings and black patent leather high heels. Matching black underwear…
Mr Shalbert was complimentary when in his drawing room she apprehensively removed her coat.
‘A beautiful dress! You look lovely!’
And then he said, ‘And I would like your knickers off too. I assume you are wearing them. It is to give you the sense of being controlled. The feeling of being ready to receive chastisement if it is deemed necessary.’
Monica briefly met those steely eyes and looked away. She could feel colour flooding to her cheeks. But she was obeying. Pulling up the skirt of her dress. And sliding down her knickers.
Mr Shalbert took the black silk knickers from her…
Monica sat down and began to play, but it was impossible to concentrate. For one thing she was ultra-conscious of having nothing on under her skirt. And Mr Shalbert’s remark about being ready to receive chastisement. He hadn’t caned her yesterday but he was going to today. She just knew he was! That was why he had her knickers off…
It was quite impossible to concentrate on her playing when all she could think about was that.
After not too long Mr Shalbert told her to stop. Despairingly she said, ‘I’m sorry…’
‘Your mind’s not on it.’
‘No. No…oooo’ she admitted.
‘Why is that?’
Monica hesitated — and then stammeringly told him. She had that awful sense of being completely in his control so that if he asked something she had no option but to tell him. She said she was thinking about being caned…
‘Well in that case I’d better give you something,’ he said.
He took her through into the other room which had a long divan seat under the window. He said he wasn’t going to cane her this time. He was going to spank her bare bottom…
Mr Shalbert had taken off his jacket and was sitting down on the divan. He told Monica to pull her dress up round her waist. And then get over his lap.
It didn’t hurt like the cane of course but in some ways it was just as bad. His big hand intimately cracking down on her bare bottom!
CRACKKKK…!! CRACKK.!!! CRACKKKK…!! CRACKK.!!!
Just like the caning it was devastating. Her poor bottom being plundered by his ravaging hand! Moans and yelps were erupting from her slack mouth. Her hips were writhing uncontrollably.
When the hard spanks at last stopped Mr Shalbert put his hand in between her legs. Taking hold of Monica’s cunt.
‘From what we learnt yesterday, my dear… you have a strong sexual appetite…’
His fingers were manipulating her cunt. Monica shuddered…
Some minutes later she was standing on trembly legs, and taking off her dress…. And then her bra… Standing now in just the suspender belt and stockings and her high heels.
A little while later she had nothing on at all. She was lying on the divan now. Completely nude…
And a little bit later, or Monica thought it was just a little bit later, she was kneeling on the carpet. She was completely nude still. Mr Shalbert was sitting on the divan now. He was clothed but his smart grey trousers were unzipped.Monica was kneeling between his spread thighs. She was sucking his large erect penis…