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Sunday, 6 October 2019

Treatment for Truants

From Uniform Girls 53
‘We weren’t playing truant, Mum. Well not really. It was when we had a free period and we just thought we’d go out for a cup of coffee.’
The speaker is Sandra Manners, aged 17, medium blonde, a quite tall and pretty girl, who with her friend Jenny Bygraves was yesterday reported for truanting. And clearly if you are found in a coffee shop in the town centre in the middle of the morning when you are supposed to be in school, it is difficult to call it anything else but truanting. In spite of what Sandra might wish to argue.
‘And anyway it was Jenny’s idea,’ Sandra moans when her mother points this out to her.
Jenny, as one might imagine, is saying much the same thing at this time to her mother. ‘It was Sandra’s idea.’ Etc. Jenny is the same age, also medium blonde, not quite as tall but also a pretty girl. They are both pretty and shapely girls, which of course the cafe owner, Mr Arnold Finway, duly took note of when, guessing they were pupils at St Margaret’s, he asked them to step into the back office for a moment.
Truancy has recently become quite a big thing, ‘targeted’, as they say, by the government. Members of the public have been urged to report suspected offenders without hesitation. Many people have responded, one might say the matter has struck a chord. Sometimes, it must be admitted, this has been with mixed motives. Where attractive girls are concerned that is. And this no doubt was a factor in the keenness of Mr Finway.
‘Get off!’ Jenny said. Because Mr Finway, a balding, rotund man in his fifties, had followed up the request to enter his back room by grabbing her. Her arm… and then with his other hand, her bottom. A firm grope through the skirt of Jenny’s thin dress. His big hand clutching one ripe young bottom-cheek.
She stumbled forward, attempting with not much success to get away from that mauling hand.
‘I don’t want any nonsense,’ Mr Finway said piously. ‘But you girls know truancy is a very serious matter. Let me see your ID cards.’
In his little back room he had let go of Jenny’s bum for the moment — but only to grab Sandra. Likewise reaching behind her to get a grope at her bottom, while his other hand was reaching for her purse. Sandra, like Jenny before her, did her best to squirm away — but not before the cafe owner’s awful hand had managed to reach in underneath her bottom-cheeks to shockingly fondle her private-most regions.
And after that? With their ID cards extracted from their purses and thus in possession of their names and confirmation that they did indeed attend St Margaret’s School, Mr Finway had got Sandra and Jenny backed up against the wall and started an unctuous spiel about the seriousness of their ‘crime’ and his bounden duty to inform the authorities. But… it seemed he was prepared to ignore this duty. Yes, he could deal with the matter himself and then let them go.
Mr Finway could deal personally with their absence from school by smacking their bottoms.
His face distinctly pinkish, no doubt at the thought of doing it, he said, ‘It will have to be something that both of you will remember. So it will be with your knickers down. On your bare bottoms.’
Sandra said sharply, red-faced, ‘No thanks.’ Jenny added a slightly more cautious confirmation. And they both maintained this position as the cafe owner did his best to persuade them to accept. Fending off as best they could his persistent hands which were grabbing at all parts of them. Sandra, close to tears, said, ‘I’ll report you.’
But Mr Finway only gave a harsh laugh. ‘I’m doing the reporting, young lady. An’ I reckon you’ll be sorry you didn’t take my generous offer and take those knickers down.’
Afterwards Jenny said that perhaps they should have accepted. Because unpleasant as it probably would have been, it might well be preferable to the alternative.
The feared alternative, of course, was that they could be sent for a course of correction. There were different possibilities in this. Persistent offenders were now mostly sent to a proper institution, a kind of prison for young offenders. That was probably the worst option. You went there for varying periods of one to six months and were immediately on a harsh and painful regime. A punishing round of physical fitness training. And correction with the cane and the birch.
In that it was Sandra’s and Jenny’s first reported offence they were not likely to be sent to such a regular correction centre. Instead there was another more likely possibility which was not as bad as going to a correction centre, but you could say was not much better. This was being sent to stay with a Truancy Inspector. The number of such inspectors in the Education Department had recently been considerably increased and most of them now took offenders in for correction. It was for a shorter period: a weekend or a week rather than a month or more, but the treatment that was meted out was very similar. It was intended to be a strong deterrent. And so you could certainly expect to get a dose of the cane.
This was why Jenny for one had been half-prepared to let that Mr Finway do what he wanted. Take their knickers down and spank their bottoms. It would have been awful all right — but if the alternative was being sent to stay with a Truancy Officer for a week…
But they could still hope it wouldn’t come to that, couldn’t they? It wasn’t impossible, with a lenient official, that they could be let off with a caution. Or so Sandra at least optimistically hoped. Well it was the very first offence, and as she still tried to claim, not really truancy at all.
Angela Manners thought her daughter was clutching at very thin straws. The government was now extremely strict on truancy. She put her arm round Sandra. The blonde 17-year-old had told her, half tearfully, what Mr Finway had suggested, what he had wanted. She had agreed with Sandra that it had been awful of him, but she had also poured cold water on any ideas of reporting the matter. It wouldn’t do any good, Mr Finway would only deny it, and possibly claim the girls had made it up to try to get off. To tell the truth Angela wasn’t all that surprised at what he had tried. Well men were like that, weren’t they? In fact she was half-inclined to think Jenny might have been right. It might have been better to let Mr Finway do what he wanted. Because they were bound to get worse if they were sent off for a week or a weekender.
The Truancy Office phoned the next day, Tuesday. The officer, Mr Rinvale, would visit on Wednesday after school, to see Sandra and her mother. So Sandra wasn’t going to have to wait long to learn her fate.
‘Try and relax. Don’t think about it,’ Angela advised. But of course that was easier said than done. Sandra had a bath and went to bed early. And in bed… well she couldn’t help it. Her hand going down between her legs to her quivery cunt. Biting her lip… and sliding her finger in between the moist lips… She gasped. She shouldn’t do it, but as her finger urgently rubbed her swollen clitoris, it let you forget, for the moment at least.
But bringing herself off — twice — could not in any real way affect what had to take place. Five pm, the appointed time for the Truancy Officer’s visit, arrived in what seemed like no time at all.
Alistair Rinvale was a tall man in his fifties, grey-haired and elegant-looking. Elegant and charming.
To Sandra he was just scary, with a keen searching look that, as she sat opposite him on the sofa in their sitting room, seemed to go right into her head. To read all her thoughts. To know what she had done last night! Her fingers rubbing furiously… She could feel herself blushing.
And yes, it was going to be as her mother had predicted. No leniency. No let-off.
‘Every case must be dealt with according to the rules. You will understand that, Mrs Manners.’ Spoken in that suavely charming voice. As he sipped his tea. ‘Excellent, Mrs Manners. Earl Grey I think? But yes. The rules as laid down. So I shall have Sandra for the weekend. Initially, to see how we get on. In fact I shall be having both girls.’
Angela said, ‘Yes I understand. Sandra is of course most contrite. But she understands… there has to be a punishment.’
‘Good,’ Mr Rinvale said. ‘We must ensure she learns her lesson to make sure there is no repeat. And now if I might see Sandra for a few minutes. Alone I mean. Perhaps up in her room?’
Angela said, ‘Yes, of course.’
Sandra and Mr Rinvale were up there for a good 20 minutes. When they eventually came down Sandra’s face was bright red. Mr Rinvale said he was now going round to see Jenny Bygrave.
Addressing Sandra, he said, ‘And I’ll see you again on Saturday morning young lady.’
Sandra mumbled her agreement.
‘Well, what was that about?’ Angela asked when the door was closed.
Sandra shook her head. Not wishing to talk. But was finally persuaded to. Mr Rinvale had spanked her bottom. ‘Just a preliminary warming up,’ he had said. And then sat down on Sandra’s bed and pulled her over his lap.
He pulled her skirt up, round her waist. And then yanked her knickers halfway down her thighs. Baring her bottom. And then proceeded to deliver crisp and painful smacks to the ripe cheeks.
Angela bit her lip, She had half suspected what was happening. Had thought she could possibly hear that hand cracking down. And Sandra’s muffled yelps.
She put her arms round her daughter. Sandra was close to tears. It had been really awful. Maybe it would have been better to have said yes to Mr Finway. If they had it would have been all over now. Whereas…
When he had finished spanking her bottom Mr Rinvale had made her stand up, and he had stood up too. She started to pull up her knickers but Mr Rinvale curtly told her to stop.
‘Did I give permission for that?’
Then his hand had slid up under the front of her skirt. The hand squeezed her bare thigh. ‘It will be something else at the weekend of course, young lady. It will be the cane.’
As he spoke Mr Rinvale’s hand drifted higher. Right up. And cupped her bare pussy. Fondling it he said quietly, ‘The cane of course really hurts.’
Sandra didn’t tell her mother that. That Mr Rinvale had fondled her pussy. As he gave her that nasty, frightening warning. No, she didn’t want to tell her, or even think about it. But she couldn’t help thinking about it. And now she did begin to cry.
It was a house at the other end of town. A big house set back from the road in a large garden. Sandra and Jenny were delivered here by their mothers at ten this Saturday morning as arranged. That was an hour ago.
They are now both with Mr Rinvale in one of the upstairs bedrooms which face onto the rear garden. Mr Rinvale has closed the curtain, although of course no one could possibly look in. Perhaps it is to prevent any distraction as he proceeds to work with the girls. On their corrective training. There is nothing to take their attention; just this quite small bedroom, with the single bed and the easy chair, the dressing table in the corner.
He is sitting on the bed with the two girls standing in front of him. They have had to change out of the clothes they arrived in. Now Sandra is wearing a white T-shirt and abbreviated white wrap-around skirt. Underneath she has on a pair of brief knickers. Jenny is in a pair of very tight black stretch shorts and a white T-shirt. The shorts have elastic braces attached to them which are pulling the shorts even tighter than they would normally be. Painfully tight up into Jenny’s crotch, and baring a good deal of the flesh of her buttocks. She has no knickers on under the shorts.
‘Well now,’ Mr Rinvale says. ‘We are here to try to teach the two of you that truancy from school is not a good idea. So that, hopefully, the idea will not even enter your heads again. How do you feel about that?’
Neither girl has an immediate answer. In both their heads there is primarily the thought of the cane. Mr Rinvale is going to cane them. Their bottoms! They can imagine that red hot pain. Jenny squirms her hips. As well as the thought of the cane, the taut crotch of her stretch shorts is hurting her.
Finally Sandra manages to break the tense silence. Her stammery voice: ‘Please sir… we won’t… Really. I mean… not ever think of it again.’
Mr Rinvale is getting to his feet. ‘That’s good. Excellent. Though of course we will need the cane to ensure that the message goes in really deep. To the subconscious.’ He comes round behind Sandra and pats her bottom. ‘And the best way to a girl’s subconscious is through her bare bottom. Isn’t it, Sandra?’
Sandra mumbles something. Squeaky, scared words. Mr Rinvale is moving on to Jenny. Closing in behind her. One of his hands comes round in front, to grip the waistband of her stretch shorts. His other hand grips likewise in the small of her back.
‘And Miss Bygrave. What does she think?’
As he speaks both hands simultaneously lift. Jenny gives a frantic yelp, as she is hoisted clear of the floor by her shorts. All her weight is suspended by the crotch of the ultra-tight shorts. The material was already cutting painfully into her pussy. Now… it feels like she is being cut in two!
She yells again… and again… After some long seconds Mr Rinvale puts her down. Sandra can hear Jenny gasping. Whimpering.
‘Yes Miss?’ Mr Rinvale asks quietly. He is moving on round, in front of them again.
‘I… I…’ Jenny is half sobbing. Somehow she manages to stutter out the required words about not doing it again.
Mr Rinvale is sitting back down on the bed. ‘Alright. Well, let’s have you here. Jenny, you first. Over my lap.’
Jenny stumbles forward. Mr Rinvale grabs her by those shorts again. Pulling her forward and down. Face-down. Across his thighs. The shorts are yanked really high up, in between the cheeks of her bottom. So that in effect her bottom is largely bare. Mr Rinvale’s hand gropes one nude cheek, and then commences spanking.
Crack…! Crack…! Crack…! Crack…!
His hand splatting down alternately on the two squirming cheeks. Jenny is emitting desperate, gaspy yelps. The sight of Jenny’s poor bum getting redder by the second. And that vicious hand… It is all happening right in front of Sandra and she can’t avoid having this full, close-up view. Jenny’s poor bum.
And perhaps more to the point, in just moments it will be her own poor bum getting that treatment. Yes that treatment… and then worse. Because there is worse to come. There is the cane to come.
Mr Rinvale continues with Jenny. Spanking her bottom until he presumably considers she has had enough. He keeps on for what seems a very long time and before the end of it Jenny is in quite a desperate state. Crying. Sobbing. Still squirming about but her movements now more tired and exhausted.
Mr Rinvale does finally stop and she is pushed up. Told to stand still and at attention again. She seems to have trouble doing this. Her legs seem to be all wobbly. Her face is red and blotchy and she is sobbing. Her bottom probably feels like… raw meat?
And now of course it is Sandra’s turn. For the same. She tries not to think. As she is told to take Jenny’s place. Get down over Mr Rinvale’s lap. He pulls up the short skirt. And then yanks up her knickers, so that they are the way he had Jenny’s shorts. Yanked right up into the cleft of her bottom. Baring the cheeks. And then his hand comes down.
It is early afternoon now. Sandra is lying in that little bed with the covers pulled high up on her face. Just her eyes are uncovered and she is awake, looking up at the ceiling. Under the covers Sandra has nothing on. She is nude. There is no one else in the room, not at the moment.
Where are they, Mr Rinvale and Jenny? Sandra doesn’t know. Maybe in another bedroom. Maybe Mr Rinvale is with Jenny in another bedroom.
Maybe he is caning her in another bedroom? Or… something else?
Sandra hasn’t been caned yet. So she still has the thought of it to come, as she lies here with the covers pulled high up over her nude body.
This morning, after they had both had those awful spankings, they had to do exercises. In a room downstairs and also out in the back garden. Stretching and bending in all kinds of positions, and when they were outside running as well. Until they were really exhausted. And then told to do more, keep going. Mr Rinvale had a slipper for smacking your bottom and legs if you weren’t keeping going fast enough.
Yes a slipper. Not the cane. Though that slipper was bad enough, it really stung. But the cane hasn’t appeared yet. In a way that can make it worse. Waiting for it. Knowing it is going to come. At any moment? Yes, at any moment Mr Rinvale could come in that door with it in his hand.
After the exercises and running they had some lunch, prepared by Mr Rinvale’s housekeeper. Then after lunch he said they could have a short rest. That was when Mr Rinvale brought Sandra back up here to this bedroom. Jenny was told to wait downstairs, he would come back for her.
That wasn’t long ago, or at least Sandra doesn’t think so. But lying here with no watch or anything she doesn’t really know. Yes Mr Rinvale brought her back. And told her to get undressed, she was to get in the bed for a rest. He didn’t leave though, not right away. She had to get undressed in front of him. Take all her clothes off.
The thought of the cane was still in her head, but at least Mr Rinvale didn’t have a cane with him at the moment. And naturally there was that other thought as well. Of last Wednesday. When up in her room he had given Sandra that first smacked bottom. And then had fondled her pussy. So inevitably there was that thought now. That Mr Rinvale was going to do it again.
And he did. When she had all her things off and was standing nude. Her hands trying to cover various parts, but waiting for Mr Rinvale to actually say she was to get into bed. He had pushed her hands away. And fondled her tits. And then… her pussy.
‘I don’t want you playing with yourself, Sandra. I know girls like to, it may relieve the tension. When you’re waiting for something. Waiting for the cane. But it is strictly forbidden. Do you understand?’
He was playing with her as he said this. One finger inside. Sandra squirming and shuddering. Producing some stuttery words. While Mr Rinvale kept doing it.
At last he stopped. And told her to get into the bed. Her pussy was all wet now. Mr Rinvale pulling the covers up over her. He said he would be back shortly.
How long ago was that? Sandra just lying there on her back. With her hands up near the top of the blanket. Scared that somehow her hand could with a will of its own drift across… to her quivery pussy. She does want to do it. There has been the hot urge ever since Mr Rinvale left. The tension… and then Mr Rinvale’s hand getting her even more tense. More hot.
Yes she would like to do it alright. But she daren’t. Mr Rinvale would know. Those piercing eyes looking right into her would know. And then… it would be the cane. Well she is going to get the cane anyway, but he would do it twice as hard. A double dose. It doesn’t bear thinking about. Oh Christ! She would like to… Her hand. Just a little perhaps. But she can’t. No way.
Suddenly the door opens. Yes, Mr Rinvale. But not alone, he has Jenny with him. She is still wearing the T-shirt and stretch shorts. Sandra’s eyes meet Jenny’s for a second. What do they say? That maybe Jenny has been caned now? Those shorts have been taken down and her bottom has been caned. And then she has been allowed to pull the shorts up again? Is that there in Jenny’s eyes?
There is no real way of telling in that short eye contact. Jenny does look nervous, but that doesn’t mean anything. Mr Rinvale could have done other things besides caning that would make you look nervous. Oh yes.
He has come over to the side of Sandra’s bed now and in one quick movement pulls the covers off her. She gives a little yelp of shock. Suddenly exposed. Nude. Her hands automatically try to cover her boobs and her pussy. Mr Rinvale tells her to put her arms straight at her sides. His own hand comes over.
‘So, have you been behaving, Sandra? Not touching this.’
His hand is cupping her pussy. She gives a little squeal. Shaking her head. Mr Rinvale’s finger is inserted. Probing. In the wetness. He grunts. He calls Jenny.
‘Tell me what you think.’ Taking Jenny’s hand. Putting it between Sandra’s legs. On her cunt.
‘Has she been playing with herself? Masturbating? I want an honest answer.’
Jenny’s face is red. She bites her lip. Perhaps keen to show Mr Rinvale she is taking this seriously she slides her fingers inside. In the wetness. Finding Sandra’s clitoris. She gulps.
‘Uhhh… I don’t think so… No sir.’
Mr Rinvale grunts, and pulls Jenny away. He tells Sandra she can cover up again. His arms go round Jenny. Reaching for her shorts.
‘Let’s have them off then, shall we?’
Jenny’s shorts come off. Leaving her in just the T-shirt. Sandra, with the blanket pulled up to her eyes again, sees Jenny’s brown bush. Her pussy bush. Then Mr Rinvale’s hand closes on it.
‘I’ll be back for you shortly,’ he tells Sandra. ‘Just remember what I said.’
He goes out with Jenny. Jenny at his side and Mr Rinvale guiding her with a hand at her nude bottom.
A little bit later Sandra thinks she hears the sound of a cane. If it is not her imagination. The staccato Thwack of a cane, followed by a sharp yelp. And then perhaps half a minute later the sounds repeated. But that is all. No more.
There is no sound now. Did her ears deceive her? Or has Jenny been caned just twice? And then… perhaps Mr Rinvale suggesting something else and Jenny gasping out a desperate agreement. Because anything is better than more of that mind-zapping cane. Is that possible?
She clutches the bedcovers more tightly. Mr Rinvale is going to be back at any moment. As soon as he has finished whatever he is doing with Jenny. Sandra can hardly stand the waiting. Her hand is pretty desperate to slide down. To her hot pussy. But she can’t.
Sandra tries to project her thoughts onto that other bedroom. To see what exactly is taking place. Oh God! It is so awful. Waiting for dreadful things to happen. And there is all the rest of today and tonight and then tomorrow to be endured.
It is all too much. Sandra’s hand does slide down. To briefly stroke her pussy. She can’t help it. Even though Mr Rinvale will know something, that she has done it. And will give her an awful caning. Or something else… What? She doesn’t dare to think what. She makes a whimpering sound, and her hand slides across again.


  1. A pair of nice little waifs standing nervously to attention here. I do like me a nice young waif to discipline and train. The braced shorts idea is very good too. Shame we didn't get to see more of the girls' bodies though, saw hardly nothing of the one all in white even if she does look tasty enough even with her clothes on.

    1. Our pretty friend curly of hair & pubic nest is one of my very favourite Blushes girls.
      I picked up a crisp copy of UG 53 only this week.
      (It is one of the very best issues containing also ‘A mere Plaything’ which is the best sequence in Blushes of a girl fighting off her disciplinarian who has to yank off her bra & knickers despite strong resistance to the assault)
      Back to today’s post. Our curly friend of hair & pubic nest is a pretty picture. Her disdain at being shown her punishment outfit - happily the braces-tightened shorts are a nice snug tight fit in her vagina. Her highly penetrable bush is a delight & adds to her humiliation by making her all the more conspicuous and vulnerable. Her thatch can also be seen to good effect in UG 23 & Blushes 38.
      The alternative to more caning is clearly shoving into her fully-forested pussy and coming deep inside her. Cue more protests and grimaces. Serve the sullen little teenager right for not showing more enthusiasm towards her shorts. As a girl’s shorts should they only cover the very top part of her bottom and cut into her vulva.

  2. Bob here.
    The naughty waif (don't know about anyone else,but I really like terms like waif and wench for a girl) in the
    dark shorts is quite adorable and delicious,I think...not that being adorable and delicious should exempt her (or,indeed,any pretty girl) from
    Copious amounts of corporal punishment.
    Does them a power of good.

    1. Waifs are abandoned and lost young slips of girls, excellent material for remoulding and retraining by we older gentlemen of a disciplinary bent.

  3. She's just a really pretty girl. Perfect for Blushes.

  4. Bob here.
    The prettier the girl,the more punishment she will usually need.All girls know that their beauty and sex- iness are their main weapons in trying to control men and get their own way as much as possible.The pretty ones know this most of all,which is why for them
    the punishments should always be a bit more severe.If "plain jane" is to get
    six of the best for a certain infringement,then "pretty polly" should
    get at least a dozen for the same offence,I reckon.
    Unfair,perhaps,but such a delightful prospect to contemplate.
    Anyone else agree or disagree with this
    notion ?

    1. If the prettier ones more easily inflame and arouse the beast in man (which in almost every case they do) then of course they deserve to suffer more. Nature absolutely decrees it be so. It's a bit like saying who would you want to fuck more?

  5. Yes unfairness and injustice in punishments should be axiomatic. By the way they should carry these...

  6. Having to sport a full pubic bush does embarrass a girl in this era of depilation.
    For those of us who include intercourse as part of the punishment, there’s scope for insults at their expense at that point. ‘Now let’s see if I can find your vagina in this forest’

    How about the best bushes of Blushes Fleas.
    My top 3 are little miss tight shorts above, Amanda in Blushes 56 (page 49, the picture also in Blushes 11) & Charlotte in New Justice Vol 3 Number 6 - lots of pictures all with her perky tits also on full show

  7. I also agree the reasons above why pretty girls need maximum caning. A letter in Blushes put it just right with words ‘the hostility pretty girls deserve

  8. The waif in the dark shorts is a favourite of mine and I would have loved to have seen her appearing in more shoots. Especially the ones illustrating stories where a girl is 16 or 17.