Story from old Swish.
Caned by her son's friends and she has to submit to them!
Brushing her hair before her dressing table mirror, and then re-applying her lipstick and eye-shadow, Cynthia wondered vaguely why she was bothering. Her friend Avril's son, Michael, and his friend, Seamus, would hardly be concerned with the appearance of a thirty-six year old woman. They would be more interested in girls of their own ages. Still, it was nice to look presentable, Cynthia told herself. Rising from her stool and giving her blonde hair a last pat, she hitched her skirt up and tightened her suspenders.
Not that she could possibly tell these boys – or young men – much, she told herself. She had spent just five years as a schoolmistress at a girls' private school. Their future experiences in going into teaching would hardly compare with the rather cloistered atmosphere of St. Hilary's. But still, Avril had asked her to give them what tips she could about how to deal with pupils, about different curriculums and such, so she would at least try.
Heavens, they were here! That was quick! "I'll go!" she heard her sixteen year old son declare as he clattered out of his room and ran downstairs. Well, there was no great hurry, Cynthia thought, smoothing her close-fitting grey skirt down over her well-rounded bottom. She heard the entry of Michael and Seamus and descended slowly, her high heels clicking on the parquet flooring of the hall as their voices came to her from the lounge.
Both Michael and Seamus stood up immediately, which pleased her. She wished that her own son was just as polite. – "Mother said....", Michael began and received a flashing smile from Cynthia. – "Yes, I know. You want to hear something about teaching. Well, I'll do what I can. You'd like a cup of tea first, I'm sure. Won't be a minute", Cynthia replied and moved out again to enter the kitchen, her son running after her as she did so.
"You don't mind if I go out? It'll he so boring, Mummy. I've heard it all before when you've been telling Daddy about..." – "Yes, of course", Cynthia said vaguely, and called after him "You'll be back by six, though?". She glanced at the clock as she spoke. It was just past three o'clock. Her visitors had been punctual at least. – "About seven, or a bit later", he called back with all the careless abandon of youth, and then in moments the front door slammed, leaving the house momentarily quiet.
Humming to herself, Cynthia was just emptying the kettle into the pot when Michael drifted in hesitantly and asked if he might carry the tray for her. – "Why, yes, how nice of you, Michael", she responded and felt quite a warm glow that Avril had brought her son up so well. His friend, Seamus, seemed just as nice. – "Well, then, was there anything you wanted to know in particular?", she asked minutes later as they drank their tea and nibbled chocolate biscuits.
"Well – there WAS one thing. Mother said it was best to ask you, Mrs Sanderson. We've both been wondering about discipline. I mean, degrees of discipline and all that", Michael said. Cynthia felt his eyes fall on her rounded knees as he spoke. Her skirt had ridden up a little in sitting down. But that must be her imagination, she chided herself.
'Oh well, yes – there are degrees, as you quite properly put it, Michael. First, there's the old business of giving a hundred lines or so, and then..." – "Oh no, I didn't mean that, Mrs Sanderson. I was referring to something else. I meant C.P. Is it not called that?", he asked innocently, bringing a slight flush to Cynthia's cheeks as she placed her cup and saucer down.
"Well, yes, but of course, Michael. I was at a girls' private school and....", she had begun when, with an unnerved start, she watched him get up and move towards her. – "Well, you must have very good experience in that direction, Mrs Sanderson. I do wish you would show us", he said. "I – er, what?" Cynthia responded in astonishment. When Seamus then got up, she placed her hands on the arm of her chair and made to get up, too. As she did so, Michael leaned down and, with seemly politeness, assisted her to rise.
"You see", he said gently, "I overheard mother saying that it was a matter of standing by one's convictions. I know she is a bit wary of talking to me about it too much, so I wanted to ask you – does one take knickers down oneself or does the miscreant have to do it?"
"M....M....Michael, really!", stammered Cynthia blushing to the roots of her hair. He was still holding her arm after drawing her up, and she tried vaguely to loosen his grip but without success. – "We only want to know, Mrs Sanderson", Seamus's voice came to her ear. "For instance, if a girl is wearing a mid-length skirt much like yours – though, of course not half so nice, does one have to pull it up oneself, like this, or...."
"OH! Oh my God, how DARE you!", screeched Cynthia as with one upward sweep he bared the pale columns of her thighs which swelled up so gloriously from her tightly-ringing stocking tops, and – therewith – the tight, powder-blue panties she wore. Their semi-transparency betrayed the luscious pallor of her bottom cheeks beneath, to say nothing of the golden wadding of her pubic curls which mounded into the narrow crotch and where Michael's eyes seemed to burn in. Open-mouthed, she made to grab her skirt down, but Seamus's arms ringed her waist, pinning hers to her sides and leaving her skirt wreathed up around her curving hips.
"It's just that we have to know, Mrs Sanderson. After all, if a Sixth Former were to struggle as you are doing, one would have to deal with her more sternly, would one not? I must ask you to bend over now, Mrs Sanderson. The arm of the sofa, Seamus, I think". Michael uttered with all the solemnity of his nineteen years.
"My God, no! If you dare, if you.... STOP IT!", squealed Cynthia as she was spun around in the strong grip of Seamus and bent doll-like over the rolled arm of her own sofa with her half-naked bottom orbing up. Her hands pounded at the cushions while Seamus thumped down on to the seat and held her over. – "Looks like one has to take their panties down oneself, Michael", he said in a serious tone. "Evidently yes", Michael answered and then, to Cynthia's utter shame and outrage, thumbed her most intimate garment and brought it sleekly down her curvy legs until it trapped her ankles.
"If you don't let me GO!", squealed Cynthia. The upper part of her body twisted frantically, but Seamus again clamped her arms to her sides and held her helpless. – "The courage of your convictions, Mrs Sanderson! How often did you cane a bare bottom yourself, I wonder? We do have to find out – to discover reactions, and so on", Michael uttered. Unseen by a squirming and fiercely blushing Cynthia, he drew out from within the left leg of his trousers a shortish but whippy cane which he had filched from his father's wardrobe that morning.
A flush settled over his smooth features as he drank in the voluptuous vision that Mrs Sanderson was being forced to offer now. Her bottom was plumpish but firm, the cheeks velvet smooth and inrolling to form a deep and inviting furrow where the skin assumed a faintly gingery tone. Moving restlessly as her long, stockinged legs were, he caught delicious peeps of her well-furred mound, and licked his lips.
"You – you – you horrible young brutes. I shall tell my husb..... YEEE-AAAARGH!". The shrill cry ripped up from Cynthia's throat as the cane made its first searing bite across her swelling orb, leaving a pink line in its wake that made her blonde head jerk up and fall again as the merciless arms of Seamus hugged her tightly down.
"Really! Did the Sixth Formers whose knickers you caused to descend make such an unearthly noise, Mrs Sanderson? Do you really want the neighbours rushing in to find you like this? You are only getting a regulation sixer, you know", Michael uttered with a well-put-on sternness that amused him. "I shall accord you two more, and then Seamus will have the honours – or rather, he will put in some practise. Mother said I would need practise in everything".
"WHOOOO! She didn't mean.... NEEE-AAAARGH! Oh my God, it stings, it burns! Stop it!"
"Mrs Sanderson, really!", chided Seamus who was enjoying every moment. Her tits mounded against his ringing arms as Cynthia struggled. Wearing on top as she was, only a pale pink jumper, he could feel her nipples poking through the thin wool against his forearm. Michael, meanwhile, was gazing with excited pride upon the tramlines he had now caused to appear across both ardent cheeks – lines that were broken only by that adorable, deep cleft between her madly wriggling demi-globes.
He raised his arm again slowly while Seamus's eyes gazed expectantly up into his face. Something else he had overheard his mother saying to his father came back to him. "It has to be allowed to sink in slowly", she had laughed, and Michael thought he understood now. Besides, another idea had also come to him.
"Please... please... please!" Cynthia was sobbing helplessly. Somehow, surely, she could win them over from giving her a full sixer, she thought, then heard Michael's voice saying to her, "Mrs Sanderson, listen carefully. It may be that you yourself are only a beginner, but that is precisely the type of young lady we may one day have to deal with. Bottom-burning is intended to bring obedience, I believe? Well, we shall see. Upon your promise to prove as submissive as you no doubt coached your own young ladies to be, then you will receive only two more strokes. Don't you think she is rather overdressed for this, Seamus?"
Seamus gaped at him for a moment, but then a look of comprehension passed across his face. The luscious Mrs Sanderson was like a wriggling fish. He was having a devil of a job to hold her. – "Yeah, right", he answered, "given that she takes her skirt and top off, then we WILL deal with her more lightly. Well, Mrs Sanderson?"
"Oh God!", Cynthia sobbed. Her bottom burned so fiercely that the thought of another four strokes of the cane across her throbbing globe was too awful to contemplate. Whatever she did now they were going to cane her still. – "Well, Mrs Sanderson?", she heard again and in her imagination saw the awful cane being raised behind her. – "Yes, yes – all right!", she sobbed. Seamus slowly released his grip on her then and got up.
"You are on your honour, Mrs Sanderson. Otherwise....", she heard. Seamus stepped away from her. An awful silence descended momentarily in the lounge. Legs trembling and hips weaving, Cynthia rose up and worked her panties right off, holding her back to them both. Fingers shaking, she slid down the zip of her skirt and stepped out of it, leaving it in a limp pool on the floor. – "Now your jumper, Mrs Sanderson", came Michael's voice as he and Seamus's eyes gloated over the superb curviness of her firmly-fleshed figure. Swallowing heavily, Cynthia peeled it up and slipped it over her head, globing her naked tits out to them in profile, her pinky-brown nipples perkily-poised on the snow-white gourds.
"Now, Mrs Sanderson, you will bend over, please, of your own accord, palms flat on the seat and your bottom well thrust out. Otherwise...." – "Y...y...yes, all right!", she choked. Anything, anything to get it over now. Two more, though. She would never be able to take them! Holding her ankles and thighs desperately close together. Cynthia obeyed until her red-streaked bottom was poised like a full-blown peach, her bare tummy resting on the rolled edge.
"Excellent, excellent. You will accord this miscreant her final two", Michael said throatily to Seamus who then took up the prime position behind the glorious offering while Cynthia waited breathlessly, gazing blindly down into the Dralon cushion beneath her.
"The first will be right across your bottom, Mrs Sanderson, and the second will he just underneath. You understand that? You understand that you are not to spring up? I'm throwing your knickers, skirt and jumper to the other side of the room, just in case", Seamus said. Gritting her teeth, Cynthia tried not to reply, but she knew they were waiting for her to do just that – or else.... "Y...y...yes... all right", she stammered.
"You deserve two more, do you not, Mrs Sanderson? You deserve to be caned for your rebellious attitude at the beginning? WELL?" – "Oh! I – er.... I, er... Yes", whimpered Cynthia to her own utter despair. Her swelling cheeks tightened in anticipation as she heard Seamus step back half a pace. Panic rose in her. – "Please, look, I.... NEEE-OOOOH!", came her uprising squeal as the fiercest of flames seared her orb, causing her to gyrate her hips madly. "GOO-GOO-GOO!", she sobbed helplessly, uncaring of the wickedly erotic display she was now giving as her tits swung heavily and her hips worked frantically from side to side.
Both Michael and Seamus waited then. Neither, in truth, had ever thought it would be quite so easy. Both in their hearts preferred older women, full-bottomed and full-breasted, to girls of their own age, and this one was a creature of exquisite beauty who had preserved her curves perfectly and whose bum was as round as a Dutch cheese. Would she spring up? For a moment each held his breath, her golden-furred quim winking at them as Cynthia's legs worked this way and that.
"Good. Give her the last one, Seamus – as we promised. I believe she is going to be a good girl in future", Cynthia heard. Her sobs resounded louder then, but Seamus ignored them. He had given her almost a full minute of 'absorption' time and now Mrs Sanderson was due for a teal tamer. SWOOOO-ISSSSH! hissed the cane. Arcing from left to right it took Cynthia right under the wondrous bulge of her bottom and brought a piercing "YEEE-EEEH-EEEEK!" from her as the fierce lightning of it coursed through her twin hemispheres.
"BLUB-BLUB-BLUB!", she sobbed as Seamus laid down the cane. Her hands scrabbling wildly, she clawed at the cushions and dragged herself over onto the seat of the sofa where she lay curled up, writhing and twisting, her hot bottom bumping about until finally she uttered a huge, open-mouthed, sobbing sigh and covered her face shamefully with a cushion, drawing her stockinged legs up as closely as she could....
Two hours later when her son let himself in, he heard hrs mother splashing in the bath. She was singing! She sounded quite happy, he thought.....