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Monday, 21 October 2019

Command Performance

Photo-story from Janus 35
The scene was a large block of flats in the more affluent part of London’s West End. On the seventh and top floor the nine-feet-wide corridor was almost deserted. Almost but not quite. At the far end, silhouetted against the soft glow of a pseudo-Regency standard lamp crouched the figure of an elderly man whose features were entirely obscured by a black Homburg hat. The collar of his expensive Astrakhan fur coat was turned up and completed a sinister anonymity which was enhanced by the ominous posture. For ten minutes the man did not bodily move. Occasionally though, his eyelashes flickered. This movement was not caused by the abnormality of his posture but by the discomforting draught which came from the keyhole that was in close proximity to his eye.
The subjects of the peeping eye were two 20-year-old girls who found their very presence in the rather bare room excitingly amusing. Andrea and Josie had little idea that they had been carefully selected by the man in the Homburg hat (following certain enquiries into their ‘circumstances’) although they had been well paid and were quite prepared to ‘perform’ for the ‘kinky old devil’! What they also didn’t know was that they were not the first girls who lived at a specific hostel in North London who had found themselves in this particular book-lined room.
Discovering the clothing which they were required to change into provoked the two young madams to peals of girlish giggles. Josie in particular found the whole thing hysterically funny, especially when she realised that Andrea was required to wear a school uniform.
‘Blimey Andy,’ she spluttered, ‘that bleedin’ skirt won’t hardly cover your arse!’
Andrea sniffed huffily. ‘Honestly Josie, you can be terribly crude at times. Just because you find the whole thing a giggle doesn’t mean I do. I’m only here because we need the money. Wait till I break into modelling — I won’t be doing things like this! I shudder to think what would happen if Daddy ever found out…!’
‘Huh!’ Josie said, ‘Your Dad don’t give a monkey’s! If he did you wouldn’t be stayin’ in a tatty ‘ostel tryin’ to scrape a livin’ from a bleedin’ giro.’
Andrea was affronted. ‘That’s where you’re wrong, know-all!’ she bristled. ‘He does care! It’s just that he wants me to be independent and create my own opportunities.’
Josie laughed and it was like a little bell that said ‘lessons are about to start!’
‘Yeah, but he don’t know that you’re creatin’ opportunities to have your arse whacked!’
Andrea’s haughty nose lifted an inch and the pretty mouth opened to speak. The words never came, they were halted by the opening of the door to her right and the silent entrance of the man in the black Homburg hat.
Josie huddled up against her in mock fright and completely at a loss for words Andrea pointed speechlessly towards a stiff-backed chair directly in front of them. The man sat down without a word. He still wore the hat and coat.
Finally he spoke. ‘Well come on then, get changed. I haven’t got all night.’ The voice was harsh and direct and charged the atmosphere with an electric tension.
Hurriedly the girls stripped off their clothes and started to struggle into the undersize costumes which they had just examined. For Andrea this was the moment of truth and with considerable embarrassment she wriggled into the school uniform. Josie, on the other hand, was irrepressible. Still giggling, she pulled on the revealing shorts and vest with some relish. Ironically, Andrea had been cast in the role of school prefect and Josie a junior sent to her straight out of a gym lesson for punishment, but as neither were actresses and they had been given no script their one-man audience would probably have to use a bit of imagination.
Finally, her metamorphosis complete, Josie turned towards the seated figure and threw out her arms in a theatrical gesture. ‘Boom, boom!’ she said.
Andrea managed a weak smile.
The man sat forward in his chair and directing his gaze towards Josie spoke with great deliberation and measured authority.
‘As you find the whole thing so funny, young lady, I think that your punishment should be six of the best with the cane.’
‘That’s not fair,’ said Josie with indignation. ‘Why me?’
‘One extra for dissent,’ said the man in a tight voice.
‘You kinky old sod!’
‘Blimey, you’re just lookin’ for any excuse…’
Josie thought that she didn’t really mind being caned, but enough was enough. She remained silent.
He looked towards Andrea. ‘Come here girl!’
She stepped forward and the man unbuttoned the front of the huge coat. He extracted three canes from within its vast lining and offered them to her. With the merest hint of a smile which was hidden from Josie, but not from the man, Andrea took the canes from his outstretched hand.
When Andrea turned towards her Josie looked at the floor. The man had the ability to make her feel small and already Josie felt like a naughty girl. Andrea suddenly seemed to have perked up and out of the corner of her eye Josie noticed that her friend wore that supercilious expression which she adopted whenever she felt superior to whoever she was with — which was most of the time.
‘I think three strokes over the knickers would be a good start, don’t you, Andrea?’ The man’s voice was now calm, but with a slight edge which left both girls in little doubt that the suggestion was in fact an order.
Andrea looked at Josie steadily for a moment, aware that despite herself she was beginning to enjoy the position of power she had suddenly attained over her friend.
‘Right!’ she said almost severely. ‘Touch your toes girl.’
Obediently Josie did as she was ordered, holding her breath and expecting the worst.
The ‘worst’ came before Josie was ready. The cane slashed her hard across the top of the right thigh. Her teeth sank into her lip as she bit back the pain, determined not to show the man the true effect of the searing rod. The next stroke was more accurate and hurt like hell. A hundred wasps stung her across the centre of both delicious bottom-cheeks and Josie gasped with agony. The third stroke was worse. Her scanty shorts afforded no protection at all, mainly because they had rucked up between the cheeks of her bum and Andrea had deliberately aimed at the lower part of the buttocks. Josie squealed and panted and then bit harder into her lip. She suffered the pain, not because she liked it, but simply because she was being paid to accept it. Money was the means of survival in Josie’s way of life and Josie was a survivor. She certainly couldn’t earn this much by any other means.
Andrea hauled Josie upright and for the first time they noticed that the man had moved his chair forward for a closer look at the drama that the girls were enacting. He was motionless and sitting forward on the chair.
Andrea, who sensed his approval, began to assume a natural ascendancy over her friend. The temporary feeling of power had flushed her face and quickened her breathing and if Andrea had had time to analyse her feeling she would have been shocked to realise that she had precious little sympathy for the other girl’s predicament.
‘Get those shorts off — Now!’ Andrea’s voice had a new edge and instinctively Josie complied.
‘Now bend over and touch your toes.’
Excitement was beginning to dictate Andrea’s actions and she was starting to enjoy punishing her friend. Perhaps in Andrea’s mind Josie wasn’t a true friend, simply a friend of convenience. After all, they couldn’t be more different. To Andrea the girl was ‘common’ and in the old days would have been a peasant or a serving girl. She would probably have been in Daddy’s employ, perhaps working as some kind of skivvy. Andrea’s imagination was very fertile and it threw her enthusiasm full tilt into punishing the ‘serving’ girl’s bare bottom — no matter that she was supposed to have given trouble in her PE class! The six strokes that she delivered in this frame of mind were probably much harder than she would have admitted to.
Josie though was made of stern stuff. Despite Andrea’s forceful administrations, at the end of the punishing session Josie was still dry-eyed and stoically biting back the pain. As always, she had coped.
So intent was Andrea and so oblivious was Josie that they had both failed to notice that the man had moved even further forward. Josie recovered first and nudging Andrea both girls formed a temporary alliance to shoo him away from the stage of their performance, on to which he appeared to be in danger of intruding.
Soundlessly the man moved the chair back to its last position and took the cane from Andrea’s outstretched hand. He beckoned to Josie, offering her the choice of three well-used canes. Slowly and deliberately Josie stepped forward, took the canes and accepted the unspoken challenge.
Now it was Josie who had the dominance over her friend and the angry, hot throbbing of her welted bottom was the spur which provided all the motivation she needed. Almost with relish she grabbed the front of Andrea’s ‘school’ blouse.
‘Alright you snooty bitch, it’s my turn now!’
If Andrea thought that Josie’s act was a good one, she would have been mistaken. Josie wasn’t entirely acting. The old adage of ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth’ meant more to Josie than Andrea. She was determined to get her own back. Andrea could be a bitch at times and quite selfish. Josie often became fed-up with her friend’s lack of feeling and understanding, although Josie realised that due to her upbringing Andrea probably never wanted for anything in her life — until recently. Unfortunately, the spoiled brat syndrome had almost destroyed their friendship on more than one occasion, especially when boyfriends were involved. Andrea always seemed to want what Josie had… now, if not sooner! Now Josie had a chance to redress the balance and right the wrongs done to her.
Whilst Andrea’s back was turned and as she bent over, the man in the Homburg moved his chair forward. There was no doubt in Josie’s mind that the sight of her friend’s bare bottom, which she grudgingly admitted was quite superb, had acted as a magnet. So let the old sod have a closer look, it wasn’t Josie’s arse! She found it quite sexy, being given the power to ‘punish’ it.
The first of Josie’s strokes wasn’t too hard, but on Andrea’s super-sensitive bottom it stung like a dart. She yelled and the spasms of shooting pain toppled her over. Without ceremony Josie hauled her to her feet by the hair and bent her over again.
‘Give her another five,’ said the man without emotion. ‘Make them hard.’
With a sly grin Josie whipped the cane down again. It bit into the soft flesh like a striking snake and was gone, only to return more insistently and with greater force than before. Andrea sobbed with shock and pain as twinges of pure fire raged through her entire body. There was no escape… nowhere to go… nothing to protect her. She was alone — alone with her own helplessness and her self-imposed predicament. It was hideous but she had to finish it now, because if she didn’t she wouldn’t be paid. Andrea needed the money and it overrode all other considerations. The alternative was unthinkable in her present state of welfare.
With another sly look at the man who was absorbed in the vision of Andrea’s rapidly reddening bottom, Josie raised the cane and took deliberate, painstaking aim.
Stroke four was perfect in its execution. It almost buried itself in the sublime softness of Andrea’s curves only to dissolve into blurring recoil and leave behind its red tick of correction. Andrea sobbed hopelessly, gripping the rich carpet and feeling her emotions overflow like an active volcano. The man in the Homburg hat was thrilled by her reaction to the cane — and by her quaking, stung-to-hell bottom. Still two to go and her weeping became sobs of resignation, of shame and biting pain. She waited… anticipated and waited…
Josie’s last two strokes were no better or worse as far as Andrea was concerned. The intense pain had numbed her senses and she simply felt a dull crack across her bottom which barely made an impression on the scalding burn of her body, although it increased the previous effect. The sobbing was now piteous and at the control of some force which was not her own. Mercifully, the nightmare had finished.
Stand up!
Every movement was a new agony for Andrea but pride sustained her and she rose to her feet. She had gone through with it. She had suffered in a way that she had never dreamed, but she had done it. She would be paid and she would recover. She would pay her bill and the crisis was over. Everything was over. It had finished.
Turn around, both of you!
The voice was grating, yet almost disembodied. The girls did as the man had bid them. Andrea painfully and slowly but thankful and elated at her fortitude. Her achievement had been something personal, something that perhaps only she could understand. Certainly Josie wouldn’t be able to. Maybe one day she would try to explain.
Andrea stood beside her friend staring at the wall, alone with her thoughts. Alone with her own personal victory.
Now bend over and touch the floor.
To Andrea the voice was unreal. It had nothing to do with her, it wasn’t part of her world, it wasn’t… was it?
It was. But it was a new world. A new world for Andrea.
She did as she was bid… and waited.

1 comment:

  1. Bob here.
    I remember this one well from back in the day.Fantastic photo story with lots of striped,naughty,bottoms.Nice one,as
    Thank you,fleas63.