Saturday, 15 January 2011

Sharing and suffering

Story from Phoenix 44.

Sharing and suffering

Sue and Kate were the closest of close friends, sharing in just about everything they did and whilst Sue, who was nineteen and the younger of the pair was at university, Kate, just a year older, worked as a cashier in a bank. Both girls lived at home for financial reasons.

Sue was a mischievous, blue-eyed, clear complexioned, long legged blonde, with a hint of blossoming femininity; her angelic face, tanned by the early summer sun, was attractive enough, but when coupled with firm, upthrusting breasts, usually bra-less – the effect was devastating, and she knew she could hold the attention of most men with little or no effort. Her pert, but full rounded bottom, which she usually chose to encase in the tightest of denim jeans or micro-minis, caught and held many attentive gazes, and she was aware also that it wasn't only the men who gave her admiring glances!

Kate, by comparison, was a little less stunning, but nevertheless pretty, with dark brown hair, which she usually wore in two bunches, and whilst somewhat taller then Sue, was well proportioned, with a tiny waist set between a slim firm bottom and generous breasts, which like Sue, she usually allowed to go unfettered by a bra. Her nipples were, it seems, nearly always in a state of erection, and certainly presented an attractive sight when she sported her favourite white tee-shirt, which allowed her full breasts to sway gently as she walked. Her legs, slim and firm, were just a fraction longer then Sue's, and could have been designed to wear mini-skirts or shorts; she and Sue often competing with each other as to who could get away with wearing the shortest mini or briefest of shorts.

Both girls were happy-go-lucky individuals who enjoyed the company of the male sex and were keen to play the field. Each had had a 'crush' on numerous men, often the same ones at different times, but these tended not to be too serious or long-lived and there always seemed to be a steady stream of 'hopefuls' asking for a date. Despite such ardent attentions both girls had managed, surprisingly, to preserve their virginity; after a first date they were not averse to allow their respective 'Beau' a certain amount of access to their charms, but drew the line when frustrated youths had wanted to exchange searching fingers for hardening, rampant manhood, and despite allowing those hands to freely fondle their softly yielding, nubile bodies, they had always insisted in keeping on, as a minimum, their panties, even if those same hands, having assisted with the removal of all other items of clothing, did manage to delve under the restrictive elastic of tiny nylon briefs and search out their downy, moist sensitive regions. Sue and Kate were equally responsive in these situations but were not prepared to take the chance of an unwanted pregnancy despite being on the pill, and therefore limited their own pleasures rather than take such risks. Heavy petting was something that quite often left them feeling just as frustrated as their partners although, once or twice, a more experienced and adventurous one might, in his explorations between parted thighs, find the trigger spot that would bring wonderful shudders of delight and ecstasy and leave the grateful girl trembling with spent satisfaction.

John, who was Sue's 'latest' had often provided such welcome relief, and if, on occasion during a heavy petting session, he gave her a playful slap on her panty covered rear, she didn't regard it as something she should get upset about, and if it was several smacks she found the warm afterglow rather pleasant. She would, if the mood prevailed, tease John to the point where he would react even more firmly, when a smacked bottom became an accepted and quite regular part of their private sexual adventures, although John never seemed particularly conscious that Sue was directly turned on by a vigorous spanking. He never graduated to using anything on her pert little bottom other than his firm right hand and quite often Sue idly wondered what it might be like to be more severely chastised, but could never summon up the courage to ask for it outright for fear of making John think that she was in anyway 'peculiar', prefering to retain his friendship than take the chance of losing it.

Sue had often hinted about her feelings regarding haying her bottom spanked to Kate and she raised the subject again whilst they were relaxing at Kate's house listening to some records. Kate expressed mild amusement that Sue should have even considered it strange to enjoy such treatment.

'I can really get turned on by it' she confessed smilingly, 'I think it's exciting to have a boy turn me over his lap and spank my behind until it realty glows. Some are too soft though – I like it hard – Richard is the best so far, although its taken me months to convince him that I really do enjoy it! He knows he can't make love to me fully but if he spanks me properly and thoroughly I let him do just about anything else he likes and then I might give him a 'blow job' to show my appreciation. Once I've got him in the right mood I strip-off down to my 'nicks' which he then usually pulls hard up between my legs so that they slip into my slot at the front and disappear tightly between my bottom cheeks – I love to feel my bottom fully exposed and the sensation between my legs is magic! He then strips right down to his briefs, sits on the bed, and pulls me forcibly across his lap – by this time I can usually feel him as hard as a rock against my tightly encased mound – even more so when he starts slapping me and I have to press down on him to escape the pain as it builds up. I squirm a lot but I insist that he keeps on with the spanking, even when I cry out loud. He carries on until I can't stand it any more and both my bottom cheeks are red and I can feel the fiery glow going right through my body and start a real fire between my legs! I usually come several times but if he complains that his hand is getting sore I let him use whatever he likes on me. In my bedroom I have quite a selection of implements, like hairbrushes, a long plastic ruler, and even a thin bamboo cane, which when it's not being lashed across my behind, holds up a nearly dead ivy plant which stops Mum getting suspicious. He can use all of these things if he likes – the only problem with the cane is that it leaves lines across my poor bottom for days and I have to make sure Mum doesn't catch a rear view of me in the bathroom!

'Last month I embarrassed him terribly in front of some of his mates and later that evening he promised me a proper hiding when he got the chance. I didn't want to lose him over such a silly thing so I agreed to accept whatever punishment he thought I deserved. He said that he was really going to make me suffer by having to wait for it until he was ready – he really rubbed it in by telling me just how painful it was going to be for me, and how even I would beg him to stop. He talked about it every day for a whole week, and as the days passed, I got more and more nervous, because I could tell that he was still very angry with me, and whilst he knew I quite enjoyed his usual spanking games, this was going to be very different, and very, very painful! As the days went by my pleadings became more pitiful but he refused to listen, and instead told me that every time I tried to talk him out of it, he would be adding additional strokes to the punishment. He eventually told me that he had decided it would take place on the following Saturday night, when my mum is always out and he could deal with me properly. As each day passed I got this terrible sinking feeling in my stomach but eventually Saturday came and then I had to wait for Richard to turn up. He's normally there by eight o'clock, but that night he kept me waiting. I watched the clock get right round to half-past eight, and then I heard him at the door. He could tell how I was suffering just by looking at my face when I opened the door, and when I spoke there was a tremble in my voice I couldn't hide.

'He told me to go straight upstairs, without even giving me a kiss, and the look on his face told me he hadn't changed his mind about what he had in store for me! I was then told to strip right down to just my knickers. I had found a pair of really sexy ones – black and lacy, with narrow sides and just enough material to cover part of my bottom – I suppose I had hoped that he might be a bit softer with me by wearing them – but it didn't! Unsmilingly he ordered me to the end of my bed with my hands on my head, telling me that I had upset him and that I deserved a real thrashing, and that was what I was now going to get!'

Sue had said nothing while Kate had related the first part of her tale, but her eyes were glowing as she listened, enraptured by her friend's description of her chastisement, imaging how Kate must have felt waiting for her punishment to continue.

Kate then carried on with her story, ensuring that she missed nothing out, knowing that Sue was hanging onto her every word.

'Richard didn't waste time in deciding what he was going to use on me, and it was that long, slim bamboo that appeared in his hand beside me. The waiting was getting to me even more by now – somehow it was delicious, but in other ways it was sheer murder! Like I said, he never used the cane much in the past, and when he did it was never very hard, but this time I knew it would be different. I felt totally naked and exposed, standing there with my hands on my head like a naughty little girl – and with Richard still fully clothed made my nudity so much the worse, despite the fact that I had been allowed to keep my panties on, but they were so brief at the back that the lower curves of my bottom were fully on view, and it was impossible to stop clenching my cheeks together, knowing what was coming to them shortly. Richard came right up to me, letting me see the cane, which he was flexing in his hands. I was trembling visibly by now – the agony of waiting, longing to get it over with, but at the same time wishing it would somehow never start. My nipples were sticking out like organ stops even before he started to run that wicked looking cane up and down my body, teasing me gently with it. It was cold to the touch as he ran it slowly up the front of my thighs, over my stomach, and right up to my breasts. He then outlined each of my titties in turn, tapping each erect nipple which I thought would burst – they throbbed so much! I was trembling even more by then, with my eyes clenched tight shut and hands still in position on my head, feeling helpless, but knowing that if I wanted to keep Richard I had no option but to submit to whatever he thought I deserved. The feeling of being held there by my own choice made it seem so much worse – if I wanted to I could just walk away, but I knew I wouldn't I just had to stand and wait for that cane to punish me as I deserved, but if only he would hurry up!

That slender length of bamboo was then running slowly up the back of my thighs, brushing especially slowly it seemed over the curve of my bottom cheeks, which I could feel clenching again as it was drawn over my skin. I could feel myself getting damp in my panties, despite the terror I was feeling elsewhere – and then I realised that the cane had stopped! I could sense Richard behind me and then he was reaching forward, pulling my panties suddenly hard up between my legs, harder than he ever had before, almost cutting me in two! The waist band was pulled up high up to my middle, pulling the material into a tight string between cheeks, leaving my backside completely exposed and without even the slightest vestige of protection.

'Ok', he said, 'Bend yourself right over'.

'I bent over the cold brass rail at the end of my bed, feeling the cold, hard metal pressing against the top of my thighs, and as I lent further forward at Richard's command, I could also feel the rail cutting hard across my divided mound, the thin strip of my briefs cutting even harder and deeper into me at the same time. I was allowed to stretch my arms fully out in front of me and grip the bedcovers, and then the horrible waiting began all over again. At least the cool touch of the bedcovers helped soothe the throbbing in my tits, although I still felt totally exposed and accessible, despite the fact that my modesty was now partially restored, if only frontally.'

Sue by now was breathing deeply and irregularly as she listened even more intently to the story Kate was slowly unravelling for her. She wanted to know so much, amazed that her close friend had never mentioned her obvious predilection for corporal punishment before, although clearly this particular episode was far beyond anything that could be described as pleasurable to Sue's ears. She did however now feel much less concerned about those oft felt stirrings within her when John had paid attention to her bottom, and she had made her mind up, even as Kate was still speaking, to find a way of experiencing a taste of bamboo across her own proffered posterior as soon as possible. She did not, however, quite see how she could ever approach John whose ability to understand she was very uncertain about – but yes – she would find someone – somehow!

Kate then continued afresh, describing how her Richard had allowed her to remain waiting passively, her near naked body fully stretched out over the end of her own bed, her buttocks forced high into the air, waiting in fear and dread for her approaching punishment to start.

At last, after what seemed an eternity, she could hear him moving to the side of her prostrate body, feeling next his hand reach out and gently fondle each pert, exposed bottom cheek in turn, feeling the fine texture of her soft, yielding, delicate skin, moving from the gently swelling curve slope of her long slender thighs, up and over each waiting cheek, and then pinching the resiliant flesh, concentrating especially on the full part of her behind, as if testing its ability to take what he knew was in store for it.

And then the caressing had stopped. Richard announcing that he punishment was now to begin.

'I think you deserve at least twenty strokes with my bamboo here' he said at last. 'But first I want you to say you are sorry, which I am sure you are now, and then I want you to beg me to cane you for your atonement'.

Kate was devastated to hear just how many strokes he was expecting her to take, but she hoped that he would, as a consequence, restrict the severity of each cut to compensate for the huge number announced. She was just about able to get the words of apology out; her mouth had gone suddenly dry – the waiting had really got to her, building up her anxiety to intolerable levels.

'Now BEG for your caning' repeated Richard, in an impatient voice. Quickly Kate tried to stumble out the words Richard wanted to hear.

'Pl.. Ple.. Please I Wa.. Want you to cane me, but PLE.. Please do it NOW! Please, please get it over with!'

Richard acknowledged his satisfaction with her trembling request by allowing the tip of the three foot of bamboo to rest on the very centre point of Kate's high arched backside – noticing how she flinched as the cool wood touched her warm delicate flesh, which was now awaiting his attentions. A minute passed – but it seemed far longer to the hapless Kate.

'Ready?' was all he asked, as he broke the intense silence again, and then, as Kate moved her head, almost imperceptively in response, she felt the weight of the cane lift from her bottom. The next instant she could hear the thin stick hiss through the air, and then with a loud THWACK!! the first stroke landed straight across her upturned bottom, causing a ferocious, agonising burst of pain to erupt into her fleshy cheeks. She immediately cried out in disbelief at the agony of this, the first stroke, and as the fleeting seconds passed she could actually feel the liquid pain spread out from the area of impact, deep into her body. Despite the agony within her she was resolved, however, that she was going to take her punishment from Richard as bravely as she could, and with great will-power managed to stay firmly done over the bed-end, biting the bedcover between her teeth, as she waited for the next stroke, which followed almost immediately.

The second explosion of pain came just as little lower than the first cruel stripe, and the combined pain of these 2 initial cuts blended quickly together to produce a surge of blinding pain that she never thought she could have bourne. But bear it she must!

Her teeth bit harder into the bedspread, and her clenched fists gripped tightly onto the fabric far beyond her head. To add to her torment and discomfort, the unyielding brass rail over which she lay draped, was digging hard into her sensitive mound at the apex of her thighs, where she was already being cruelly divided by the tautly stretched fabric of her tugged up panties. At each stroke she found herself pressing this tender portion of her body harshly down against the metal bar, seeking vainly to lessen the impact of each cutting lash.

And then the third stroke landed, just as hard as its predecessors, and again, just a fraction lower and with it came even more unbearable agony to her tortured nates.

How she held on she did not know, as Richard slowly and methodically raised weal after devastating weal fully across both submissively presented cheeks: Kate's cries of agony were almost blotted out by the bed covers, but her squeals and sobs were still audible, and told Richard that Kate was truly paying for her misdeed. And so it continued, her bottom, previously pale and unblemished, now bore angry red lines, etched deeply into her soft flesh – each line showing the initial, double-edged furrow of impact, from which spread out a deep red blush along its full length, each individual furrow then gradually forming a weal as its centre pulled out, with raised edges laid along both outer limits like tram lines. She lost count after the first dozen or so stripes, aware only that the evil cane, hissing through the air, was still biting into burning flesh; each stroke finding a fresh path upon which to inflict its cruel kiss, each one moving lower and lower, until the very under-curve of her swelling bottom was receiving its full share of the chastisement. And then Richard announced that she had just 3 more strokes to take before her punishment was complete. Kate was by now almost beside herself from the unbelievable agonies burning onto her poor backside, and quite how she had endured those 17 lashes she just did not know – but now, mercifully, she just had to endure the last 3 and it would all be over – at last.

Richard then laid on two lashes in quick succession, as severely as those he had already dealt out, the first being aimed at the very centre of the raised, waiting bottom, but this time, letting the thin switch cut a fresh path, angled diagonally across all its predecessors – the second stroke, just seconds later cutting diagonally across the other way – Kate screamed out loud, despite the cloth still held firmly in her clenched mouth, feeling the heat and pain of those particularly cruel two lashes, landing right across so many previously delivered weals. But again she fought to hold on, and had only a few seconds respite before the twentyth, and final stroke landed – this time right across the sensitive crease between the very tops of her tapering thighs and lacerated bottom cheeks. Her scream this time was ear-splitting, gradually subsiding to a pitiful groaning, she then realising that she had at last suffered the final cut, her body lay limply over the end of her bed, totally exhausted, her eyes red with tears, the sobs of painful anguish escaping from her parted lips. After a few moments during which time Richard allowed her to regain her composure, she managed to ease her near naked frame over the rail, dropping then down onto her knees on the bedroom floor. Richard then helped her to her feet, and at Kate's sobbing request, searched out a bottle of soothing Witch Hazel from the medicine-chest in the adjoining bathroom, after giving her a tender hug in recognition of his forgiveness for her offence which could now be forgotten.

Upon his return to her bedroom he found her laying face down on the top of her rumpled bed, her hands clasped to her lacerated bottom, whilst at the same time trying to hold back more tears. Where Richard could still observe uncovered skin, he could see that her bottom was now a blazing mass of weals and scarlet lines; each bringing its own burning torment, whilst the collective effect was that of having been stung by a million wasps, as wave after wave of pain coursed its way deep into her body and soul. Even the front of her lovely body had not escaped damage, Kate being aware that her soft, proud mons had become bruised harshly as she had crushed her mid-regions against the bed-rail at the impact of each stroke.

Richard, however, gently applied the lotion to the ravaged globes, having persuaded Kate to remove her protecting hands and allow him access; the initial stinging of the healing Elm extract causing additional torment until at last she could feel the balm starting to work its soothing magic on the wealed flesh.

It was probably an hour before Kate could raise herself painfully from the bed, and attempt to cover her near nudity with her dressing-gown, wincing even when that filmy garment brushed her tender nether regions. Richard comforted and hugged the red-eyed Kate, who murmured her feelings of relief at having got her punishment over with at last, and her happiness, that by having submitted herself to his cane, had managed to retain his love and respect. Gradually she regained sufficient composure to enable her to get to the bathroom and wash her face, removing streaked make-up along with the redness from her tears and then allowed Richard to renew his anointment, carefully, to her still smarting bottom, with the healing liquid. There was no doubt that she had, and would continue to suffer, a good deal of pain – far more than Richard had intended to inflict, but she had willingly taken every cutting stroke to prove her love. The evidence of what she had endured would remain on her for a long, long time, she knew.

Finally, after many hugs and kisses, Richard assured her that their relationship would now be better than ever, and that his love for her had in fact deepened. After an emotional, long farewell, Richard left for home, telling Kate that he would phone every day to see how she was, and of course he could not wait for their usual date the next weekend.

As soon as Richard had gone, and before her mum came home, she stood before her dressing-table mirror to examine her ravaged nates. Removing her panties was painful but at last she managed to ease them off, standing then with her back to the large mirror and turning her head to view the scene of her atonement. Despite the intensity of the pain still coursing through her savaged behind she confessed to Sue that she nevertheless soon started to feel a glow of pleasure, growing in intensity between her legs. She blushed slightly, but finally admitted to the still breathless Sue, how she had gradually succumbed to the spreading wave of warmth in her loins, and still regarding her rear-view in the mirror, had, with deft fingers, brought herself to a thrilling climax.

'Do you want to see?' suddenly exclaimed Kate, breaking the spell that she had cast over Sue.

'See? See what?' said Sue, almost in a trance, as she brought herself back from her daydream; a daydream within which she had somehow become Kate and was trying to imagine what pleasure she might expect from such a painful experience... her concentration returned to the present. 'See what?' she repeated.

'My cane marks, idiot' said Kate brightly. 'Quick, before Mum comes back. Up to my room and I'll let you have a peek at my souvenirs'.

With that, Kate turned and was already half-way up the stairs before Sue jumped up to follow her chum. When Sue entered Kate's bedroom she was already in the throes of removing her short skirt, which she threw casually over a nearby chair. Her shoes followed, leaving her clad in just a T-shirt, and black, silky french knickers, cut high to the waist-band at each side. The T-shirt came off next, revealing erect nipples atop of her perfect, full breasts, and allowing her friend to view the full glory of her 17yr old body. Kate explained that the french knickers were a necessity since the punishment she had received from Richard that Saturday night two weeks previously.

'My normal panties were just too tight, and they cut right into me where I'm still a bit sore' she explained, holding her hands to her bottom cheeks as if to emphasise the point. By this time Sue was seated on Kate's dressing table stool, watching her friend undress for her, her, still breathless from listening to Kate's detailed account of her punishment.

'Come on' she said, impatiently, 'Let's see then!'

With that Kate turned her bared back to Sue, and bending slightly forward, inserted her thumbs into the elastic of her knickers, then slowly slid them down over her curvacious hips, and down her slender thighs, dropping the scanty garment finally to the floor and stepping out of the tangled nylon.

Sue gasped at the sight that was now presented fully to her gaze.

Kate's bottom cheeks bore a mass of red lines, many of them still quite vivid looking weals, and whilst many were fully independent of each other, many more crossed in places at which points angry red eruptions could be seen. Her right haunch bore the evidence of the tapering cane-end, which had obviously flicked and cut deeply into her side, as the whippy bamboo had curled round her soft flank. The two final strokes that Kate had described so clearly were fully discernable as a large cross etched diagonally across the other lines cut so harshly into her posteriors, with a single vivid red stripe, as if drawn with a pen and ruler, clearly showing along the very join of her bottom cheeks and tender thigh tops.

Sue remained speechless, and stared intently for what seemed an eternity at the incredible sight. Kate remained bending forward, still and mute, as if aware that Sue would need time to fully appreciate the extent of her suffering.

Finally Kate spoke. 'Well?' she said, softly and inquisitively, 'What do you think of my 'trophies'?'

Sue, by now, had risen from the stool, and was silently kneeling directly behind Kate's forward leaning figure, her face just inches away from the cruelly lacerated surfaces of her bottom cheeks. Again, without speaking, and as if hypnotised, she remained peering intently and silently at the ravaged skin, and then hesitatingly stretched her hand out and delicately touched the damaged surfaces of Kate's behind, feeling gently the indentations and ridges of every weal, as if counting and savouring each one in turn, drawing an occasional sharp intake of breath when she came across a particularly painful looking welt.

The close and intimate inspection undertaken by Sue somehow seemed exciting to Kate, even more so when she became aware that Sue's soft lips were then being gently applied as well as her searching fingers, kissing each weal in turn. She was aware also of a rising heat within her loins, and she began to groan softly, with building pleasure, her hands reaching down to the moist opening between her legs, which she eased apart, and was soon lost in a tremulous, earth shattering orgasm, whilst Sue continued to ply her lip service to her now gyrating twin hemispheres. Kate's eyes closed as the wave of sheer pleasure overtook her, but as her orgasm at last subsided, and her spasms diminished, she re-opened them slowly. She saw that Sue was no longer applying her moist lips to her tender bottom, but, as Kate watched, using the mirrored reflection of her dressing table mirror, had risen from her position of supplication, and was hurriedly stripping off her own clothes, until she was as naked as Kate. As Kate continued to observe the delightful image through the mirror, she saw Sue turn, resolutely towards the end of her bed, where she had so recently undergone her punishment, and with a backward glance to ensure that Kate had seen her, bent her nude body fully over the same brass rail, stretching out her arms, and adopting the exact posture so carefully described to her by Kate. Her toes were just resting on the carpeted floor; and her stark naked, nubile body lay tautly extended in complete submission.

'Please, Kate, please!!' Those huskily spoken words from Sue were all that was required. Kate knew just how her friend was craving to sample the full gamut of pain, and finally, pleasure, that only the cane could provide. She clearly wanted, and needed, to share fully Kate's own experience, fully and completely – it would be no use, Kate knew, just to give her waiting friend a few half-hearted strokes – she would detect that it was not the full taste of the rod. She needed to feel the excruciating, unbearable agony that only the severest application would bring.

'Are you sure?' said Kate, her own breathing still heavy from the aftermath of her intense climax – but she knew she did not need any spoken response to confirm Sue's urgent needs.

'Yes' however came Sue's clear, calm reply, which belied the turmoil raging in her mind. Could she really allow Kate to thrash her as soundly as she knew she would do, but her resolve held firm.

'Pl.. pleas... please, Kate. Please cane me as hard as Richard did you. I want to feel the bite of the cane and to suffer exactly as you had to. I mean it. I want it just as hard as you can give it. I need to feel it properly and as cruelly as you know I want to. But please do it now, before I have a chance to chicken out. Please give me twenty strokes, no less, and what ever you do, don't stop even if I beg you to – I know I will, so you must ignore my pleas and finish what I have asked for.'

Kate understood fully, and without further delay purposefully removed the bamboo cane from its hiding place, and drawing its length through her fingers, felt its cold hardness, remembering how it had been used so harshly on her own poor backside, and shuddered slightly. She now approached the bed, where Sue lay, waiting, with mounting tension coiling tightly in her stomach, knowing that she had set the wheels in motion and there could now be no turning back. She was resigned to her fate, and come what may she would stay over that bed rail, and hoped she had the strength and fortitude to take it as bravely as her friend Kate had done.

'Ready?' said Kate huskily, and saw Sue nod her head slightly, her face hidden by her blonde hair which had fallen over her features, the remainder hidden deep in the bed covers.

Measuring the first stroke, she laid the tip of the cane at the raised centre crown of Sue's waiting posterior, Kate now appreciating for the first time just how her own submissive form must have looked to Richard. She was thankful though that she had been allowed to keep her panties on, albeit they had been pulled up into such a narrow strip, noting how clearly she could observe Sue's sexuality, despite the fact that Sue had her legs tightly closed together, for the moment at least. The deep cleft between her bottom widened at the base of her cheeks and revealed, between wisps of blonde pubic curls, the full outer lips of her vagina, and would, Kate thought, provide a most attractive view to most men.

The cane then rose and with grim determination Kate brought it down, with all her might, allowing its full force to bite deeply into Sue's passively waiting bottom with a loud CRACK!

Sue's legs shot up into the air with the initial shock, and from her hidden lips came a garbled yell, smothered to a degree by the bedclothes, but still audible. A deep furrow soon appeared, its pale central valley quickly turning deep red, a blushing glow then emanating sideways along its length, revealing the path of the obvious pain and heat outwards into Sue's delicate, fleshy globes. Kate watched, fascinated at the reaction on her friends body, which she waited to subside before attempting the second stroke. As she waited she allowed her hand to reach out and gently touch the weal she had raised on her friends bottom, feeling her nates contract as her fingers gently traced the path of the weal fully across both cheeks. Her hand then gently stroked each nate in turn, as if to comfort her friend before proceeding with her punishment. Taking aim again, she quickly laid the second and third strokes above and below the first line, in rapid succession, using every ounce of strength she could muster, and ensuring that the thin whippy stick landed fully across the full width of its target area, so delightfully presented before her.

Sue yelled again and her body bucked under the double assault, but bravely fought her instincts to raise herself from the bedrail, as Kate slowly raised the long slender cane yet again, steeling herself to blot out Sue's sobs and groans from her ears. Two more severe strokes were then applied to the fuller, lower curves of Sue's backside. Kate thinking that Sue would not be enjoying the initial, searing pain that would be scorching into her soft, unprotected flesh. Indeed Sue's legs kicked wildly into the air, as she yelled for mercy, allowing Kate to see her fully exposed lush pubis, but even at this early stage of her torment she could see Sue's wispy pubic locks becoming damp, clinging to her inner thighs, as the musky aroma invading her nostrils confirmed that Sue was becoming aroused by the caning she was receiving, which also was affecting Kate's own animal senses.

Kate then proceeded to lash the cruel cane relentlessly down across the slim, defenceless target laid so passively before her, ignoring, as she had promised, Sue's plaintive cries and pleas for her to stop, knowing that she had to continue the full, painful sentence she had asked for at the start.

Kate was now entering her own state of arousal, conscious of her own nudity as she carried out the harsh punishment that her dear friend had craved so much for. Her full, jutting breasts rising and falling with each stroke she administered, their often violent gyrations unrestricted by any garments, and her flint hard nipples throbbing with strange, compelling desires.

The cane continued to rise and fall with a methodical rhythm, its hissing path announcing to the waiting victim that another agonising stroke was going to cut its remorseless way into tautly proffered bottom, and that she would have to endure so many more of them. It was as though she was shackled to the bed by invisible bonds; indeed it would have been so much easier for her had they actually existed, but as it was, only her own supreme will-power kept her somehow firmly in place over the bed rail, as the flogging continued. A loud CRACK!! followed each descending SWISH!! and at the point of each impact Sue's bottom jumped and bucked, trying in vain to escape or absorb the fearful pain but without success. Her legs kicked back and forth wildly, ensuring that her total weight was borne by just the hard, brass bed-rail, causing her to suffer further waves of pain directly into her sensitive mound, at which point Kate could observe Sue's toes seeking to find the floor and ease the pressure, only to then suffer yet another burning stroke that would drive her legs back into the air once more. The cane was laid, stroke by stroke all over the entire area of Sue's uplifted rounded bottom, Kate only pausing when she had counted seventeen burning lashes.

'Now' she said in the same husky tone, 'These are the final three, you know where they are going to land, don't you?'

If Sue had been able to muster a reply she would have agreed that she knew only too well where they were likely to be delivered!! But she did not utter a word, frightened that she might delay the end of her punishment, or worse, cause Kate to abandon it before its agonising, but so desired completion, was reached.

Kate did not however hesitate for one moment, and raising herself up onto the balls of her feet to gain extra height and weight, laid first one resounding stroke diagonally across the furrows already ploughed into Sue's soft flesh, and then another diagonally across that in turn, leaving Sue to absorb and suffer the unbearable torment of the overlaid 'kiss' which had now been cut so perfectly into her already ravaged cheeks.

Sue's high-pitched scream was barely able to escape her lips, before Kate laid the final stroke, with equal precision, into the waiting crease atop Sue's thighs, just below the stretched under-curve of her slim nates. As soon as that last, devastating stroke had found its waiting target, Sue bucked and yelled in pure anguish, and quickly pulled her hands around to find her rear cheeks, pulling herself painfully up from the bed-rail, tottering slightly as her legs weakened and buckled in the aftermath of her ordeal.

Sue almost fell against Kate's naked, perspiring body, tears of pain and relief welling in her clear blue eyes, and intermittent sobs escaping from her parted lips. Kate quickly clasped Sue closely to her, aware that her own full, naked breasts were crushing against Sue's firm benippled bosom, giving to each other the mutual comfort they both needed. Sue's hands, however, remained clasped to her agonised cheeks, allowing Kate to hold her steady as the agony of her painful initiation continued to sweep through her. After a few moments, Kate led her friend gently to the side of her bed and tenderly helped Sue to lay, face down on the soft covers, reluctantly allowing Kate to remove her hands, and so permit her to apply generous quantities of soothing lotion to the damaged areas. Kate gently soothed the healing balm into her raw cheeks, noting how, after the initial, smarting reaction Sue had relaxed her clenched bottom to allow Kate to work the cool fluid into her yielding flesh with her finger tips. Gradually, as Kate continued her ministrations, Sue's shallow, irregular sobs turned to deeper, more passive moans which told Kate, if she was not already fully aware, that she was now experiencing growing surges of pleasure, which they both had hoped would be the reward that Sue would receive as a result of her willing submission to the cruel kiss of Kate's bamboo cane. Kate's nimble fingers continued to apply the cream to Sue's twin orbs gradually allowing them to delve deeper and deeper between them, seeking out that lush, central valley hidden between Sue's long, slim legs. As she worked her searching fingers deeper still, Sue started to part her tapering thighs until they were spread fully open, in a direct and unmistakeable invitation for Kate to go further in her explorations. Soon Kate was insinuating her fingers directly into Sue's downy covered, wet, and slippery love-nest, urging her into a series of violent, contracting orgasms, each far beyond Sue's wildest dreams and expectations, expelling, for a time at least, must of the pain from her mind.

Moments passed, during which Kate allowed Sue's reclining body to gradually subside into a deep and peaceful sleep, she then laying her own naked body down along-side in the narrow bed, allowing Sue's hot bottom cheeks to snuggle into her own body shape, her hand gently caressing Sue's curvaceous, nubile figure, and allowing her own desires to overtake her, dropping her hand then to find her own, much needed release, knowing that she and Sue would, no doubt, find many further opportunities to pursue and share their newly discovered pleasures, sharing equally as all good friends do.

Friday, 14 January 2011

A Class Of Her Own

Story from Janus 59.

A Class Of Her Own
by Andrew Grantham

DENISE looked out of the window, attracted by the high-pitched squeals and shouts in the street below. It was 'going home time'. Not for those girls the awful waiting followed by the hideous thrashing itself. Subconsciously, she pulled her Queen Mary High School blazer tightly around her lithe young body.

She rested her forehead against a pane of glass and sighed as she watched the stream of pupils homeward bound. The window steamed up and she turned away.

There was only one desk in that room. She sat on the chair behind it and tried to concentrate on the open book. Probably, Julius Caesar was one of Shakespeare's more interesting plays.

A floorboard creaked. Suddenly Ancient Rome was dispelled from her mind. She was back to the present and the punishment that was to go with it.

The curly-haired blonde felt a twinge shoot through her tummy as the door behind her was opened and closed. 'Sir' had arrived.


Denise shrieked at the unexpected. The long, thin cane embedded itself in the pages of her book. What effect then would it have on her bottom? Of course, she knew exactly. It would not be her first encounter with that wicked wand.

'Ready, Miss?' His voice was young but full of authority. She looked up at him, tall and resplendent in mortar board and gown. He was such a good-looking bloke, it was difficult to imagine he was so stern a disciplinarian.

Denise nodded her pretty head.

'Lost your voice, have you?' he smiled. 'Never mind, I'm sure the cane will bring it back.'

He swooshed the thin rod through the air, causing her to flinch.

'You know the drill,' he remarked sternly. 'Prepare yourself.'

Denise slid out of the chair and stood upright. She shrugged out of the bottle-green blazer and laid it on the chair.

He surveyed the rounded bulges of her breasts, firm in the thin, tight blouse and the equally thin bra beneath. The material of her pleated green skirt tightly hugged her hips. White ankle-socks contrasted with the pink flesh of her long, bare, well-moulded legs.

The skirt came off, to be tossed on to the chair. Then she put her hand under the hem of her blouse and slowly inched her skimpy white knickers down her thighs until they fluttered to the ground. She bent down, picked them up and placed them on the chair seat.

'Over the desk!' he ordered. 'Bottom nice and high!'

Denise felt herself swaying slightly but she took a deep breath and did as she was told. Very slowly, she bent over the shiny desk with her breasts flattened on its top.

Her drawn-up blouse had exposed most of her bottom, but he used the tip of his cane to push the white blouse completely away from his target. Her tense cheeks, perfectly rounded and completely unblemished, were a delightful shade of pink.

Denise jumped involuntarily as he tapped her nates with his cane, lining up the first stroke.

The whooshing sound made by the descending, accelerating stick seemed to fill the room. Then, that sound was replaced by another – a solid crack as the cane thwacked right across the crown of Denise's buttocks. She yelled out instantly, her posterior vibrating.

He drew the cane back over his shoulder. There was a swish followed by the sound of wood on flesh, superseded by an almost instantaneous yelp of pain.

Although her bum-cheeks were rapidly overheating, Denise resisted the temptation to put her hands back to rub away the vicious sting.

The third stroke swiftly followed and the girl's saucy buttocks jiggled and bounced.

His teeth gleaming in a smile, he touched the scarlet-lined globes with the cane. Denise squealed, then realised it was just the cool wood resting lightly against her blazing flesh.

Sneaky, that. Just like 'Sir'.

The cane left her bottom, but quickly paid it a return visit. Pain reached her brain and flooded her body with its insatiable appetite. Two tears glistened on her cheeks.

The next, perfectly-delivered stroke made her shriek and her fingers clawed the wooden top of the desk. Her haunches jerked and writhed.

She thanked God she had taken the punishment so well. That meant only one more before the worst of her ordeal was over.

The final slash on the lower slopes of her ravaged derriere made her scream and stamp her legs. Sitting down would be very painful for some time.

She didn't have to be told what to do next. Wincing, she stood upright. Her hands tentatively explored the damage. Ridges the width of her little finger corrugated her poor bum. Somewhat stiltedly, she walked to the corner of the room. She faced the wall, with her hands on her head bunching up her golden hair.

'Sir' made her stay like that for fully 15 minutes whilst he thumbed through Julius Caesar or looked out of the window. Then he gave her permission to dress and leave.

Painfully, her bottom feeling like one burning mass, she put her clothes back on and stood by the window.

Denise rested her face against the glass and looked down on to the street below. It was empty, save for one lone girl making her way home from Queen Mary's High School. She was a tall, pretty, auburn-haired girl – obviously a sixth former. She couldn't even have been in the third form when she herself had been in the sixth.

Her still-damp blue eyes followed the girl's movements. She couldn't help but wonder if that seemingly carefree redhead would fall in love with a man like her own husband – one who had had an attic fitted out as a 'schoolroom'. One who insisted his wife make amends for any serious misdemeanours by ordering her to dress in her old Queen Mary uniform and bare her bottom to receive a salutary dose of his cane.

Denise sighed and wondered. She thought not.

Thursday, 13 January 2011

Mr Night's new attraction

Story from Blushes 47.

Mr Night's new attraction

'This is the cash till, I don't need to tell you,' Mr Night says. 'The centre of operations. We'll have to watch you don't get your fingers in it, eh?' He laughs at his little joke, and pushes himself harder against Ann. Against her bottom. Ann gives a nervous little laugh. She has only started this morning, less than half an hour ago in fact. Mr Night's shop isn't open to customers yet. So it is only her and Mr Night here. Mr Night and his new trainee assistant. Ann is standing at the till and her new employer for the purposes of instruction but also and more especially for his own pleasure is standing pressed close against her back. His loins in particular are pressed hard against the jutting swell of Ann's bottom.

"You've got a nice shape, Ann. I'll say that for you. And a pretty face too. But that's why I took you on, isn't it? A pretty face and a nice figure. This nice bum you've got here.' Mr Night rubs himself against it.

George Night advertised his vacant position in the press, the National Advertiser which has a good coverage of jobs for girls. His previous assistant after a 12 month stint has left to get married, at the end of last week so Ann is starting this morning, Monday. Mr Night had quite a number of applications because there aren't that many jobs available which unmarried girls are allowed to do. And nowadays, 1995, if a girl is unemployed for more than two weeks she is sent to a Training Camp. There is none of that business of hanging idly around at home living off her parents as used to be very common. The regime at a Training Camp is such that a girl will avoid it if at all possible – that of course is the object. Hence a good crop of applicants for the likes of George Night when he has this job available.

His hands have been round on either side of Ann showing her the operation of the till. They now cease this basic instruction and instead close on Ann's tits. 'And a nice pair of these as well, eh Ann? You've got to think of the customer in this business and a nice pair of these and a nice saucy bottom are what brings the customers in. I'm referring to men customers naturally. Not that you can't get one or two ladies with an eye for a pretty girl.'

With a good crop of applicants George Night naturally had to interview a short list to ensure he was getting the best – and also to have a good look at any other attractive candidates whom he was going to have to reject (he only had a job for one girl). His procedure was simple and straightforward: some general questioning for starters and then the main object of the interview. Which was requiring the candidate to take off her clothes. Well, he had to think of the customer and the new assistant's likely effect on him, and a man could only fully assess this if first of all he had a free and unimpeded view of the candidate himself. It was in this process of selection that Ann Stannis obtained the post. She was a very shapely girl of above average height with short-cut brown hair and a pert, gamine face. The intriguing combination of this dark-eyed face and the voluptuous figure had definately appealed to George Night. Yes, this was the one he decided as soon as he saw her. Or rather as soon as Ann removed her blouse and skirt and then for good measure had to lower her knickers. She was the one – but George Night made all the others remove their skirts and blouses and lower their knickers too. Naturally.

Still squeezing Ann's tits with now some ten minutes to go before the shop door is opened at 8.30 on this Monday morning, Mr Night says, 'You'll pick it all up very quickly, I'm sure. Charlotte did in no time at all. Just make sure the prices are on everything – and they don't try any label switching. You get that sometimes.'

George Night is keenly squeezing and palming the nice firm tits as he speaks. Having a new girl in training is always an exciting prospect and he wasn't in any great distress when Charlotte said she was going to have to leave. Training a new girl means work – but what delightful work! This delightful girl to be bent to his will. And especially this delightful bottom – hard up against which George Night's erection is now in full flower – that in the early days and weeks of training will have to be dealt with regularly and often. Surely that is why girls have such appetising bottoms: so that they can be dealt with.

With his blood up as it were and his member likewise, George can feel a powerful urge to give this bottom a preliminary going-over right now. Unfortunately however the time for opening shop is rapidly approaching. Some men in the trade are happy to cane a girl in public, in front of the customers. While it is a practice which can attract custom George is not a proponent of it. The cane for him is something to be used in private. And looking at the clock it would seem that it will have to wait just a little while. But not for too long: maybe half an hour or so after he has opened up. A quick caning does not have to take very long, as he has learnt with that equally desirable Charlotte (equally desirable but different, a big-titted, blue-eyed blonde). A girl can be told to go out the back and get ready: which means get her skirt and knickers off. And then as soon as there is a break in business he can go smartly out to join his waiting assistant and get into action right away. Yes. George has a great urge to do it right now but... Yes, he can wait half an hour.

Yes, he can wait half an hour – business anyway must come first. But – George gives another invigorating thrust against the ripe bulb of Ann's bottom – it would be nice to have at least a quick look at it now. Four minutes to opening time and the opening hour is sacrosanct, the door must be opened on the dot of 8.30. But four minutes...

George lets go of the tits and removes his face from the heady scent of Ann's newly-washed hair. And his erect person from the cleft of these surging buttocks. 'Get that skirt up.' His voice is a little croaky from all the excitement. 'Let's have a quick look at you before they come in.'

Ann looks at the clock on the wall. It is almost time to open. For some long minutes now she has been standing here squeezed up against the till with Mr Night doing these things to her. Squeezing her boobs and behind her doing those things to her bottom. It has got her all hot and bothered which is not at all the way you want to be with the customers coming in any moment now. Not when you are starting a new job – your first as it happens – and are fearful anyway of making boo-boos. Ann has been afraid Mr Night was going to be like this: he had made it pretty clear at the interview. But a girl has no choice but to accept this sort of thing from a boss if he wants to do it, there is nothing she can do. Being grabbed and felt up. Also being caned... Oh God!... but he is going to cane her, he told her that at the interview. And... anything else?... Don't think about it. But now... it is only a couple of minutes before the door has to be opened and Mr Night is telling her...

Biting her lip Ann pulls her skirt up. She has stockings and a suspender belt on with her high heels, Mr Night told her he wanted that. 'A girl has to be smart in this job. The customers demand it.' Now Mr Night says, 'Hold still. Keep it up there...' And he is sliding Ann's knickers down.

The second hand of the clock continues its inexorable motion... as Mr Night's hands close on Ann's bare bottom. The ripely jutting cheeks shivering... but Ann can only stand still and obediently hold her skirt up round her waist while desperately watching that clock. Mr Night's large hands fondling and jiggling the quivering nude flesh. One of the hands slides questingly in underneath... but the clock hand is now almost on the full 8.30. And outside a customer has in fact arrived. Mr Night's hand can't resist a quick final dart... in where it really counts. Then both of the groping hands come away. The gasping Ann is told to pull up her knickers and take up her position behind the counter. Mr Night is striding to the door. The customer, Mrs Farling, a middle-aged lady, is let in. As she enters, with Ann behind the counter still adjusting her clothing, the second hand of the clock has performed an extra quarter circle. This fact is not lost on the eagle eye of Mrs Farling.

'A little bit late this morning, Mr Night.'

That gentleman is a model of self-control, notwithstanding what he has just had his hand on and indeed what else he is planning to do at the very first opportunity. 'Just a fraction perhaps, Mrs Farling. It's my new girl of course. Ann here. Showing her the ropes.'

* * *

The room Mr Night has told Ann to go to is empty of furniture except for a single item: a swivel typist's sort of chair. This is standing approximately in the centre of this smallish room which contains nothing else. Or that is what Ann's eyes tell her as she enters – but once she is inside she can see that this is not quite true. In the corner behind the door is one other thing. A cane. She lets out a whimpering sound. Because that of course is why she has been told to come here. Mr Night is going to cane her. He has told Ann to come in here and 'get ready'. Get ready for a caning. Ann is to get her skirt up and take down her knickers. Mr Night will be in here with her very shortly, when he feels he can leave the shop for a few minutes.

It is 9.15. Since opening at 8.30 there has been a steady trickle of customers of various sorts: men and women of varying ages, plus a few schoolboys earlier on. These latter proved to be universally objectionable, their eyes lighting up at the sight of this new and pretty assistant. 'Cor, look at this!' 'What's she like, Mr Night?' 'Have you given her the cane yet?' 'Can we give her the cane?' 'Has she got big tits?' Etc, etc. At one point Ann unthinkingly allowed herself to be enticed out from behind the counter by two boys and was immediately grabbed. Mr Night did nothing as Ann struggled with them and when she finally regained the safety of the other side of the counter, her blouse all unbuttoned and her skirt unzipped, he said it was her own fault for letting it happen.

The adult male customers were no better, and there could be no struggling to get away as with the schoolboys. A new assistant was a big attraction for the shop. She would bring more (male) customers in and bring them in more often. 'So this is the new girl, eh George? Let's have a look at her then.' And Ann had to come obligingly out from behind the counter to be admired. To stand obligingly still while the customer's hand patted and fondled this and that. 'Needs the cane I expect, George. Need any help in that direction?'

Mr Night shook his head with some non-committal reply. Ann didn't know it but favoured customers would be permitted this privilege. But after the proprietor himself of course. Because George Night himself had not yet enjoyed that pleasure and was indeed getting impatient to satisfy his need. Glancing at the clock and observing the general state of play in the shop. Normally after 9 there was a bit of a lull... so when at 9.15 the shop became empty he quickly told Ann to go out to that room at the back. To get ready.

Another female customer drifts in... to George's concealed annoyance. 'I thought you were starting a new girl, Mr Night?' He smiles his bland smile. 'Yes, Mrs Harcut, she's out the back. Sorting some things out.' What the girl had better be doing of course is getting her knickers down.

Mrs Harcut leaves... and she does seem to be the last for the present. George Night goes to glance outside. Yes, the street is empty. All right then.

Ann has got herself ready. Not mentally ready certainly but she has done what Mr Night has told her to do. Tucked her skirt up round her waist and pulled her knickers down to the tops of her stockings. As she was shortly before the shop opened this morning, and indeed also at that interview. But now it is not only to have her bottom fondled by Mr Night's gropy hands – though that of course is bad enough. But now... that object standing in the corner of the room. Mr Night's cane. Ann has been standing here trying not to think about it. Though naturally that has not been possible. And now...

Her eyes widen in fright as he enters. Closing the door behind him. 'Ready, are we? We seem to be free for the moment, my girl. So we'll give it a little touching up, shall we? That pretty bum.' His hand can't resist a greedy grab. 'Get up on the stool then, kneeling... and get your rear stuck nicely out...'

Ann hasn't actually done anything that might remotely be seen as deserving of a caning of course, but that is no problem. A man expects to cane a trainee assistant simply as part of her training. Indeed George Night, like most male employers of unmarried girls, will continue to cane his assistant even after she would seem to be fully trained and competent in her duties. He will cane her and he will allow others to cane her. Certain favoured customers, gentlemen whose custom he wishes to keep and who for their part will be happy to let George Night have that in exchange for access to this choice young female.

So there is going to be plenty of that cane in store for Ann. Plenty to come of which she is now to get her first taste. Kneeling now on the seat of the typist's stool and holding onto the back with her skirt up round her waist and knickers properly lowered. That ripe plum of a bottom thrust appetisingly out. To receive what George Night now whips testingly through the air. He has to be quick, a man can't leave his business unattended, but George Night has learnt with Charlotte how to be quick. It doesn't take long: a four-stroker say: but enough to get that heady thrill, that surge of the blood. Enough to tide him over for a couple of hours, and then another quickie at lunch time and again in the middle of the afternoon. And then when it's closing time of course, time for something more extended – when a man can finally take his time at it. But right now... four, say...?


A gasping whimpering yelp from Ann as the cane stings the springy flesh of her thrust-out rear. Oh Jesus. Hanging onto the back of the chair for dear life as the hot pain throbs up through her. Oh Jesus... she can't...



* * *

Six p.m. Time for Mr Night to close shop. At last, the end of Ann's first day. A dreadful day! Those dreadful visits to the room at the back, that room with its solitary chair which Ann has had to kneel on or bend over. For those quick canings snatched by Mr Night whenever there has been a break in the action in the shop. And when there hasn't been a break in the action there has been the other thing: the customers, men customers of course, eager to grope and grab this pretty new assistant. Word has of course got round that George Night has a new girl and consequently custom has been brisk all day (although George has managed to snatch those moments). Yes it has been a really dreadful day but at last it is over.

This first day is over and Ann can now go back to her lodgings, Mrs Green's, because Ann's own home is some way away and she is only going to be able to go back there at weekends. Mrs Green, though, is all right, a pleasant lady who will have a meal ready for Ann when she gets back and Ann will be able to have a bath and perhaps watch TV or write a letter and try to forget how awful her first day has been. That is what she thinks as Mr Night puts the closed sign up in the door. She can go now...


'You're going to be late, Ann,' Mr Night says, turning away from the door. 'But it'll be all right. I've phoned your Mrs Green and told her.'

What! Mr Night has come close. His hands cup Ann's tits. 'Mr Milney. You remember Mr Milney? Came in this morning. Very important customer. He wants to see you round at his place. And we can't refuse a very important customer like Mr Milney, can we?'

'No!' Ann mouths automatically. Shaking her head automatically too – though she knews there is no possibility of refusal. Mr Night's hands squeeze her tits. 'Don't be silly, Ann. It's all part of the job: being nice to customers. Mr Milney is a very nice gentleman with a keen appreciation of a pretty girl.' He pulls Ann to him and the hands holding her tits go round, one round Ann's slim waist and the other to grab at her bottom.

'I daresay he'll want to give this a little warming up. Eh? But first of all I want to give it another go myself. I always say a girl just starting out can't have too much of the cane. Come on, my girl.'

Tuesday, 11 January 2011

The Incident at Purple Pros

Story from Februs 23.

The Incident at Purple Pros
by Edward Masterson

'You old cow! Frig off and leave me alone!'

I heard Tammy's shriek above the thumping of the machines as soon as I came in the door. I would have been aware anyway from the girls' expressions that something was wrong. An employer has to have an instinct for that kind of thing, especially with an all-female workforce.

'You cheeky little bint. Tomorrow you're out the door. You're finished here, believe me!'

What I didn't expect to hear was Jess's strident tones issuing from my partitioned office in the far corner of the printworks. I could see her dressed in crimson through the open slats of the Venetian blinds. They were used to screen my office from the shopfloor when I felt like privacy. Half-hidden was the much slighter figure of Tamara, universally known as Tammy. She was my young PA who in only six months had shown evidence of a sound business sense.

Jess kept out of my way these days even though she was still a major shareholder in Purple Pros, our all-women screenprinting business. Our fling had finished last year, but she still kept some of her stuff in my flat. Neither of us had found a steady partner yet, so we still met for mutual support.

Although she was loaded, Jess had an inferiority complex to more than match her bank balance. Life outside Purple Pros (her choice of trading name – at least it meant we received plenty of telephone enquiries) was meant to help me unwind from entrepreneurial stress. But that was impossible with Jess and her uncontrollable compulsion to meddle.

Without a doubt she would be behind this catfight that was causing havoc with the work rate at this very moment. If they weren't careful most of the point of sale cards for the local supermarket would be worthless.

'Okay girls, minds on the job. I'll sort this out, Arlene.' I peeled off the faux Michael Kors leopardskin coat en route, addressing my anxious production manager in what I hoped was a confident manner. The lunch with a potential new customer had gone on considerably longer than planned so my mind was far from crystalline.

I pushed open the door to my office and glided in, relieved to be able to shut out the chemical ink vapours that tainted everything in the workplace – hair, clothes, food, you name it. This was despite a fortune invested in powerful air handling plant. Usually this was my inner sanctum, but not today. The two of them were still squaring up across Tammy's desk and it looked as if claws would be unsheathed any second.

'There you are, Jo. About time too!' Jess wheeled round and got her tuppence worth in first. She was determined to play the role of financial hotshot and pull some rank on me. So she lost any support I might have given her with that remark.

'Hello Jess. This is a surprise, honeypot.' We brushed cheeks ritualistically. 'Anything urgent for this afternoon, Tammy?' I turned in her direction.

Normally sweet and sensible, my straw-haired Tammy was transformed. Her usually placid manner had been severely ruffled in the attempt to handle Jess. Her sleepy grey eyes now flashed and her cheeks burned. Despite myself, my heart gave a flip. Add those rosebud lips and a retroussee nose: her angry appearance had more urchin charm than ever. She shook her head silently and bit her lip.

There was a short silence. I took the opportunity to hang up my leopardskin and ditch the fancy tote bag which weighed a ton. Then I took a seat.

'Well, you two, I take it there's been a disagreement.'

'I'll give you the full details once your secretary has left the room,' Jess snarled sotto voce, tossing her long auburn mane out of her eyes. Despite being well into her 30s she dressed flamboyantly (she could afford to) and knew she could turn heads – both male and female.

'Tammy is my PA. Purple Pros does not have a secretary on the premises, as you well know, Jess. She's also a management trainee and this office happens to be where she works.'

I sensed Jess stiffen. She knew she had rather more of a fight on her hands than she had bargained for. She perched one buttock on the edge of my desk, leaning towards me in a confidential manner.

'Whatever you call her, Jo, I can think of only one name that fits – a smelly little brown-noser.'

Before I had a chance to find out what she was getting at Jess received her reply. Showing more agility than I had imagined her capable of, Tammy flew over the curling carpet tiles to land a stinging slap across the still smirking face of her accuser. I sensed a communal gasp from the rapt audience beyond the glass.

The change in Jess's expression was so sudden as to be almost cartoon-like. She glared at me, cupping her burning cheek in one hand, daring me to betray even a ghost of a smile.

'Tammy, cool down,' I said. 'I've never seen you in such a state before. Let's have those blinds closed and lock the door. It's beginning to resemble Punch and Judy in here.'

Obediently Tammy went round the two glass walls closing each set of Venetian blinds with a gentle tug of the cords. Suddenly it felt cosier. I turned to Jess who had now begun to reassert her self-control: 'Come on, honeypot, spill the beans.'

She glared at Tammy's attractive back view but refrained from any more name-calling.

To cut a long story short, she had just popped into the flat that morning to pick up something. Since she was still paying half the mortgage I hadn't dared to ask her to return her set of keys. So in she breezed and, of course, had to take a peek at everything.

This was how Jess found Tammy's birthday card to me stuck on the pinboard in the kitchenette. Two adorable puppies in matching bows, I just couldn't take it down. And it showed a different side to Tammy that she rarely let out when she was at work.

The birthday was almost a month ago, so I had put my other cards away in a drawer, including the one from Jess, an ostentatiously arty number with a plain inside that she had filled with a load of nostalgic mush. Perhaps understandably, she had flown to an immediate conclusion about Tammy and me. As it happened she was way ahead of the mark; but, in a perverse sort of way, her words set me wondering.

Jess's breathless account eventually drew to a close. She had come straight round here in a jealous rage, expecting to have it out with me. Instead she found Tammy efficiently handling the business in my absence. So she staged a scene, threatening her with exposure and dismissal. The whole thing must have been a bombshell for my PA, since we had never discussed our sex lives or anything in that area. Frankly we both had too much on our minds during the working day.

The phone rang, making us all jump. 'Say I'll call back later then take the receiver off the hook,' I instructed Tammy.

I thought hard while Tammy took the call. I was not my usual decisive self after that heavy lunch at Pedro's. It was hard to concentrate on how to deal equitably with this situation. Both of them had over-reacted. Jess had just plunged in and made totally groundless and pointless accusation. Tamara should not have reacted so impulsively but then again she was young and probably felt threatened.

It was up to me to find a solution that seemed just to both sides. I certainly didn't want to sack Tammy. On the other hand Jess and I went back a long way and her investment was keeping the business out of overdraft. They were both standing facing me like errant schoolgirls with scowling expressions, while Jess had the fetching addition of one burning cheek only half hidden by her long hair.

I pushed my reclining chair back a little and picked up the em-rule from its habitual position beside my desk PC. It was a steel ruler just over a foot long marked off in printer's traditional em units. Why I kept it I don't know since it was a relic of hot-metal days. All type layout was done on-screen these days.

But then, as I slid its engraved surfaces between finger and thumb, I thought maybe there was a use after all. The two of them had behaved like schoolgirls, so that is just how I would treat them. In retrospect I put the events of that afternoon down to the lingering effects of that heavy Chilean claret, but at the time I suddenly saw how I could defuse the situation. And also indulge myself into the bargain. I cleared my throat and sat up straight.

'Now listen hard, the two of you. I can't have this kind of catfight going on at Purple Pros. For a start it disrupts production and secondly this is my office as long as I run the business. So I need to make an example of you both.'

'You surely don't mean to punish us?' Jess asked with a hint of sarcasm. 'I don't see why anything I've done should need to be accounted for.'

'That's exactly what I intend doing. Look a bit harder at yourself, Jess,' I could feel my confidence growing as I sensed a way of getting even with her for those months of mental torment she put me through when we lived together. 'You're supposed to be a director of this company. You come bursting in here, causing consternation to the workforce and upsetting Tammy over some fantastic notion you've picked up.'

She opened her mouth but I cut in quickly.

'And Tammy, what you did was inexcusable. No, I'm afraid an apology is insufficient and too late. I have high hopes for your career in management but self-control is an essential quality. So you need to be taught a lesson too.'

I paused for breath. Both of them were clearly puzzled at what was coming next. Did either of them have an inkling of what I was about to say? I slapped the steel rule into my palm, and I noticed Jess's jaw drop open slightly.

'You can see what I've got in my hand. And from what I've just said you must both realise your behaviour was childish. I propose punishing you in just the way children used to be punished. Six sharp strokes on the buttocks for each of you and then we'll forget all about it. Otherwise...'

'This is preposterous!' Jess burst out, 'I'm not going to take this from you, Jo.'

'In that case, I want my front door key returned right now, Jess.'

She went silent. Tammy looked thunderstruck, but then she looked at Jess with a smile playing at her lips. The little minx was always quick to grasp a situation.

I looked them both in the eye and neither found anything to say for a few seconds. Tammy was clearly taken aback at the idea of being made to take corporal punishment, but she was probably weighing up the alternatives. She was the first to find her voice.

'On the bare arse with that?'

'Yes, it will sound worse than it feels. Nobody will hear above the machine noise. As long as you don't yell the place down.'

I faced her without a smile, although inwardly I was willing her to accept.

'Okay, just six.' She whispered looking down at the floor.

'You will both be treated equally with regard to the severity of the punishment and each will watch the other receiving it. Now if you're ready, Tammy I think you should go first.'

I stood up and removed the jacket of my power-dressing outfit.

I swivelled the soft leather chair around so that its back was secure against the edge of my desk.

It was now up to Tammy to make the next move. Giving me a brief quizzical look, she slipped out of her mules and unzipped her tight-fitting jeans. Sitting on the edge of her desk she pulled these off, revealing a pair of shapely legs that, despite her slightness, looked long and smooth emphasising the whiteness of her skin.

She now wore a light tummy-length blouse and blue satin briefs which, as she turned to place the jeans on her desk, turned out to be merely a thong.

'That comes off,' Jess immediately rapped out. 'You said bare bottom and that means a total strip below the waist.'

Tammy shot her a poisonous look. But then she looked in my direction. I nodded and, noting my reaction, she gracefully slipped the skimpy satin garment down to the floor and stepped out of it. Quickly she moved past Jess to the chair where I was waiting. I noted with satisfaction that her sparse pubic hair was exactly the same shade of straw.

'Do I kneel?' she looked me straight in the eye with a ghost of a smile.

I felt my mouth going dry in anticipation. 'Lean over and rest your weight on the desk top. Now arch your back so that I can get a fine view of your bare arse.'

Her fair-skinned body looked especially vulnerable against the dark leather. Her physique was supple and she did it beautifully. By bending over her I was able to savour the faintly acrid fragrance of her sex.

'Are you ready?'

She turned and nodded. Tammy continued to look over her shoulder as I raised my hand to give her the first. It was more gentle than I had intended and Jess noticed.

'Harder, Jo. The girl is supposed to be feeling she's punished.'

The second and third strokes were more wristy, but still she kept looking. On the fourth, which I delivered with some arm muscle, she flinched and turned to face the front. I noticed that her petite rump was mottling over with angry red blotches. On the fifth stroke she let out a gasp and waggled her hips a little.

'Last one, Tammy. Come on, let's see that burning backside in all its splendour.'

Bless her, she did arch herself again and displayed those perfectly rounded haunches again for my delectation. I took a few seconds to take them in and notice the unmistakeable glistening at her fold.

'Get on with it, and make this a good one!' Jess again.

The final stroke took both buttocks with equal force, the warmed steel rule flexing appreciably as contact was made with a satisfying slap. This time Tammy wriggled much more vigorously and I could have sworn I heard a soft moan. If so, it was quickly swallowed.

Slowly she pushed herself upright. Knowing that Jess and I were rooting our gaze on her rosy orbs, she walked slowly back to her desk without any attempt to cover herself. There was defiance, pride even, in her walk. But self-control too. She quickly dressed, scarcely wincing as the jeans were pulled back on.

Now it was Jess's turn. To give her her due, she didn't hesitate. She removed her big hooped earrings then, unzipping the crimson creation at the side, she pulled it over her head in a flurry of auburn tresses. Underneath she was only wearing tights and pants, so these had to come off too if she was to be equal with Tammy. In that case she would face us both naked.

'Take the lot off,' breathed Tammy, standing with her arms akimbo, savouring Jess's discomfiture. She could hardly beg for clemency since she had shown her rival no mercy.

With her tights cast aside Jess stood in very classy high-cut briefs with lace panels. They would take away little of the sting, I reasoned, but it was only fair she should have a bare bottom too. She slipped them off without looking over her shoulder at where Tammy stood.

Undoing the top button of my silk blouse, I fanned myself. It was getting warm in here. Then I laid a hand on Jess's familiar shoulder to push her down a little. 'Now, Jess, are you ready for your share of punishment?'

She grunted, and as I raised my arm I was suddenly aware of Tammy moving stealthily towards the glass partition behind us.

But I needed to concentrate on Jess's quivering globes which clearly showed the imprint of elasticated lace.

'One'. Jess bolted upright with a hiss of indrawn breath. I pushed her down again hard and delivered the second with slightly more wrist. At that she tried to get off the chair, rubbing her haunch vigorously, but I grabbed a handful of her hair to hold her in place. Relaxed by the wine intake I was beginning to enjoy getting my own back.

With number three she swore aloud, but I held her fast by her hair. Her buttocks were now at least as scarlet as her cheek where Tammy had slapped her.

'One extra for that. This is for your own good, Jess. You're kneeling here stripped to the buff. I would have thought you'd want to get this over as soon as possible.'

I gave her number four and, while waiting for her bucking to stop, looked over my shoulder at Tammy. She caught my gaze and gave me a slow conspiratorial smile. I wasn't entirely sure what she meant by it.

Then I noticed that she held the cord of one venetian blind and was very gently opening the louvres a crack at a time.

Jess, of course, was too occupied with her own discomforts to notice.

By the time I had finished with her Jess was certainly tingling. Her glowing buttocks no longer showed the lacy trim of her briefs. But she didn't realise that she had also been granting a free show to most of the Purple Pros workforce. By the time she was on her feet again, Tammy had stealthily pulled the blinds closed.

I really should have punished the little urchin again for such a mean-spirited act. But I was now quite worn out with so much physical exertion in a single afternoon. Besides, I thought it would be prudent to save up Tammy's misdemeanours for further correction. Next time we would carry it out well away from Purple Pros.

Monday, 10 January 2011

New term at St Elia's

Story from Janus 27.

New term at St Elia's
by Johnny Chesham

PENELOPE FORSTER sat in the railway carriage looking out at the Sussex Downs with a resentful expression on her pretty, freckled face. Tomorrow was first day of term at St. Elia's High School for Girls and any minute now she would be joined by all the other schoolgirls reminding her that her freedom was over. She had enjoyed the vac and met a super boy too, but now she was back to all the rules and discipline of a strict girls' boarding school.

As the train drew into the junction she saw hordes of girls in the blue and white striped blazers of St. Elia's swarming about in straw hats, navy blue gym-slips and white knee-length socks, waving hockey sticks and satchels, reminding her all too clearly of the school life she was so tired of.

In a flash she saw the answer: 'Of course,' she thought, 'I'll get myself expelled!'

Why hadn't she thought of it before? St Elia's was full of rules and regulations that everyone tried not to break. If she set out to break them all surely they'd pack her off in no time, back home to where that handsome young man had been so interested in her uniform and even asked her to pose in it for him!

The others piled into the carriage. Among them was Georgina Worsley, a slim, attractive young lady with long brunette curls who slept next to Penelope in blue dorm. They were best friends, both fed up with St. Elia's and both keen on the boys from the village who always looked at them and whistled when they walked by in their short navy gymslips and white blouses. Georgina was form captain this term and wore a new metal shield on her blazer lapel.

'Hello, Penny!' she said. 'I spotted you looking miserable from down the platform!' she added with a smile.

'Hello, Georgie!' Penny replied laughing. 'You're right, I was down in the dumps, but now I think I've got an idea to put everything right!'

'Oh, tell me all,' asked Georgie intrigued.

'Not now,' Penny said with a glance towards a Senior Prefect in a nearby seat, 'Wait until tonight.'

An hour later the train drew into Castleton and crowds of schoolgirls leapt onto the platform. Last term some girls from Oakwood Priory, the nearby day school, had caused a row and sure enough there were a few in their uniform of grey blazers, grey pleated skirts, berets and ankle socks. There was a sudden hush, however, when onto the platform strode Miss Faversharn, Headmistress of St. Elia's, an attractive but severe looking woman in her forties with an air of authority which brought instant obedience. Surrounded by Prefects, she directed the girls to taxis and buses in a swift and orderly fashion, an imposing and elegant figure in tweed suit and brogues.

Penny and Georgie trudged up the drive to St. Elia's, a rambling but impressive ivy-covered building surrounded by playing fields. The afternoon passed in busy new term formalities and both girls were glad when it was time for dorm. They took off their blazers and gymslips, put them carefully away and sat on their steel-framed beds in bras and navy blue cotton knickers.

'Oh, I nearly forgot,' Georgina said, 'What's this great idea of yours?'

'Quite simple!' replied her friend, pausing for effect. 'I'm going to get myself expelled!'

'You're what?' cried Georgie in amazement and listened with fascination as Penny explained her plan.

'But what's more,' she concluded. 'I'm going to need your help. Can I count on you?'

Georgie looked seriously at the pretty, blonde schoolgirl for whom she had such admiration and answered, 'Absolutely, Penny.'

'I knew you wouldn't let me down!' Penny exclaimed and threw her arms around her friend. Any minute now Matron would come round for lights out so they gave each other a quick cuddle and an affectionate good night kiss before climbing into bed.

* * *

Monday afternoon was to be devoted to hockey trials which were of great importance at St. Elia's. Skipping games was a serious offence at any time but missing trials was unthinkable. Everyone would be involved and Penny decided this was her chance to slip away to the village. It was a glorious afternoon as she strolled over the Downs and she soon found herself in her favourite tea shop. She tucked into tea and toast with eclairs and vanilla slices and was thoroughly enjoying herself when she sensed a chilling presence enter the room.

She looked up and sure enough there was Eleanor Burns, the School Captain, and her friend Rosamund Grant.

Eleanor was a very attractive 18-year-old and much admired for her prowess at games, but was also dreaded as a strict disciplinarian with a rather cruel streak. Similarly Rosamund was a charming Prefect with a winning smile which many felt concealed a rather sadistic disposition. They wore striped blazers and ties but because of their seniority wore short, navy blue pleated skirts with black nylons and suspenders.

'Now, Forster,' the Captain intoned, 'Isn't it rather early in term to be breaking bounds?'

'At least Georgina Worsley's got some school spirit,' Rosamund Grant added with a knowing sneer.

Good old Georgie, thought Penelope! Now for it, she said to herself, no good doing things by half. She looked up calmly at her superiors and said firmly: 'Why don't you two piss off?'

They stood there stunned with open mouths. After a second Rosamund collected herself enough to say 'That's enough to get you expelled.'

Thank God for that, thought Penny. But suddenly Eleanor's eyes flashed and she said with a cruel smile, 'No, I think we'll deal with this young lady ourselves. Miss Faversham is extremely busy with trials and shouldn't be disturbed.'

Oh no, thought Penny! It was a rule at St Elia's that the School Captain could at her discretion administer corporal punishment. Penny had assumed she would be sent straight to Miss Faversham for an offence they all knew was worthy of expulsion, but Eleanor Burns had decided she would forgo that for the immense pleasure of herself giving Penelope Forster the beating of her life!

'Report to my study in thirty minutes,' she added crisply as the two seniors turned and walked smartly out of the tea rooms attracting appreciative glances from a parson and businessman at a nearby table.

Penny looked down at the eclairs in dismay. It had all gone wrong! She had bitten off much more than she could chew and now she would simply have to take the punishment though she shuddered at the thought.

She trudged back to St. Elia's with her head bowed and made her way through the oak panelled corridors to the School Captain's Study. She hesitated outside the door and trembled at the sound of a cane swishing repeatedly through the air. She winced as she heard Rosamund's voice say 'Try this thin one'. For a moment she thought of bunking but knew there was no escape. Biting her lip and tensing herself from head to toe she knocked on the door.

'Enter,' a firm, stern voice rang out.

Eleanor Burns and Rosamund Grant stood arms folded behind a polished mahogany desk, to the rear a mantelpiece on which stood a number of cups and trophies. Framed photos of hockey and netball teams lined the panelled walls. On the desk reposed a selection of straight and crook-handled canes, an old gym shoe and a wire hair brush.

'Take your knickers off,' the School Captain said matter-of-factly.

Penny blushed. She bent down, put her hands up her gymslip and pulled her regulation navy blue cotton knickers down to her knees, standing there in helpless humiliation with her head bowed and eyes down.

The School Captain looked at her knickers with a sneer and ordered, 'Touch your toes!'

Penelope bent down obediently and touched her toes with her fingertips. Eleanor Burns flexed a pliant, straight cane. She walked round the desk, probed the cane under the offender's gym-slip and disdainfully flicked it forward to reveal the firm, pink orbs of her buttocks. Rosamund Grant took off her blazer and picked up the gym shoe with a smile. Penelope held her breath, every muscle taut, for what seemed like an eternity.

Suddenly the gym shoe smacked into her left buttock with an almightly stinging THWACKKK!

She shrieked out her pain, but before the shock left her it hit again and again in rapid succesion. She winced in agony, biting her lip as the stinging rubber rained down on her reddening cheeks harder and harder. Rosamund hammered the shoe down with mighty blows, the smacks of hard rubber on tender bare buttock flesh ringing round the study mingling with Penny's yells and moans. Her face contorted in pain as she reached a plateau of panic that she just couldn't stand any more. As if by telepathy Rosamund Grant, by now breathing rather heavily, stood straight and stopped.

Thank God, thought Penny, slightly raising herself.

'How dare yon move without permission!' Eleanor almost screamed. 'That was just the warm up!'

Penny's spirits sank and she braced herself again in dismay. The School Captain selected a long, thin, crook-handled cane from the desk and positioned herself with legs apart and left hand on the small of Penelope's back. Penny squeezed every muscle vice-like in an agony of anticipation. She could hear cheering from the hockey field and thought what she would give to be out there now.

Suddenly the cane slashed through the air and landed like a razor on Penny's naked, red buttocks!

'YEOWWW!' she shrieked out in shock and pain. Eleanor raised her right arm high and brought the cane down with tremendous power again and again in mighty strokes. Penny's efforts to maintain some self control and dignity suddenly collapsed and she burst into floods of tears. Deep red weals crisscrossed the firm young buttocks as Penny yelled out her anguish uncontrollably, tears now pouring down her red cheeks.

Lumpy red welts blossomed under the firm, persistant lash of the angry cane, Eleanor's face set in determined concentration as she rained down blow after blow on the twin, quivering cheeks by now flaming red with thin bluish bruises. Penny yelled out in torment as each new cane stroke whipped into her agonised buttocks now red raw from the relentless bombardment.

Rosamund looked on at her friend's superb performance and flushed with unashamed admiration.

The School Captain steadied herself and suddenly transferred the long, whistling strokes to Penelope's upper legs – a new and unsuspecting target. Bright red lines immediately appeared in the firm, pink flesh below the inflamed buttocks as Penny shrieked and sobbed. Eleanor inflicted more and more flashing strokes of the merciless cane as if possessed by an inexhaustible energy. Penny's face was now a contorted mask of pain, wailing and sobbing very loudly.

The bell for Evensong suddenly rang out but Eleanor seemed oblivious as she lashed the whipping, swiping cane into the raw bruised cheeks now all bright crimson. Rosamund Grant, looking slightly concerned, coughed quietly and the School Captain looked up flushed with blazing eyes and slowly ran her fingers down the length of the cane.

'You are dismissed, Forster,' she said with a slight thickness in her voice.

Penny slowly raised herself and pulled up her navy blue knickers around the flaming cheeks of her backside which were chafed unbearably by the tight elastic. She held her handkerchief to her eyes while with the other hand she tried to give some comfort to her throbbing buttocks.

Crying openly and with her eyes fixed to the ground Penny curtsied, said 'Thank you, Miss Burns,' and ran from the room.

Rosamund rushed up to Eleanor, planted a warm kiss on her full, sullen lips and blurted with real feeling: 'Good show, Captain!'

* * *

Georgina gasped at the sight that greeted her on entering the dorm. Penny was lying face down on her bed with her knickers around her ankles, her hands clasped round her bright crimson buttocks as she sobbed her heart out into the pink pillowcase.

'Darling!' Georgie cried out in shock and rushed to her friend's side.

Penny looked at her through tear-filled eyes and slowly described the events leading to the beating of her life. Georgina laid her hockey stick by the bed and reached into her locker.

'Let's try some of this,' she said, taking out a white glass jar of cold cream. She scooped out a handful of the smooth white cream and gently laid it on Penny's left buttock. It felt like ice on a burning desert. Lovingly she spread it carefully around the delightful curved forms, bringing some slight comfort to the ravaged flesh and hard, raised welts that had now appeared.

Penny squealed as the seared nerves protested but lay passive, gladly accepting the gentle massaging palms and the fragrant viscous cream. Ceorgie's hands took on a life of their own as they gently moulded the perfect curves of Penny's bottom and thighs. Poor old Penny, she thought with deep sympathy and was about to lean down and plant a gentle kiss on the scorched, tormented flesh when the door suddenly opened and Matron walked briskly into the dorm.

'What on earth is going on here?' she exclaimed in her Scottish brogue.

Matron was a quite attractive woman in her late thirties wearing a blue tunic with white apron and hat rather like a staff nurse in appearance. Around her waist she wore a thick blue leather belt. She was a sensible, no nonsense type of nurse with very strong views about the upbringing of teenage girls.

'Awfully sorry, Matron,' answered Georgina, quickly withdrawing a hand which seemed to have strayed between Penny's thighs. 'Penelope's rather sore and I was just trying to soften her skin a little.'

Matron looked at them for a moment with searching eyes as if assessing the truth of the situation. Her frown of suspicion finally softened and Georgina breathed a momentary sigh of relief.

'That's as maybe,' answered Matron, picking up the jar. 'But what, may I ask, is THIS?'

Georgic shuddered. One of the strictest rules at St. Elia's was that all cosmetic substances were expressly forbidden and Matron was notorious for her rigid enforcement of this rule. She knew she could expect no mercy. With a look of immense distaste Matron confiscated the jar and put it in her apron.

'You will both report to Miss Faversham at 9.30 tomorrow morning,' she ordered frostily and strode purposefully out of the dorm.

'That's torn it, old girl,' said Georgie in dismay.

Still face down, Penny groaned.

'With my luck they still won't throw me out,' she responded, knowing she would simply faint if even the slightest punishment were to be inflicted on her tender, ravaged rump the day after such a beating. Even sitting down would be agony all week as she well knew.

'Chin up, old girl,' Georgie said without much conviction.

Penny stretched out her arm and their fingers entwined tenderly. Georgie knelt down and stroked Penny's soft blonde curls. She turned her head and their tired, worried eyes met in a gaze of affection. They leant towards each other and sealed this most wretched of days with the consolation of a loving, good night kiss...

* * *

At 9.30 precisely the two pretty schoolgirls stood side by side in full uniform outside the Headmistress' Study. On the oak panelled door a shiny brass plate read Miss Cynthia Faversham, M.A. (Oxon.) – Headmistress. They exchanged a last look of apprehension and dread before Georgina bit her lip and knocked faintly on the oak.

No sound emerged from the study except the swish of a cane singing through the air like a rapier, then a thinner cane whistling at a slightly higher pitch.

They looked at each other in dreadful anticipation as a tremendous thwack of the cane hitting an armchair sounded through the heavy door followed by several more in quick succession. They were both afraid of Miss Faversham at the best of times and now each could feel the other's fear as clearly as her own. Both schoolgirls were pale and trembling as Georgina tried to find courage to knock again.

But suddenly a cultured, stern voice rang out: 'Enter!'

The two offenders slowly entered the study with heads bowed and hands clasped in front of them, trembling with fright. Much of the study was lined with books; on the mantelpiece a large silver trophy with blue and white ribbons and above it a framed portrait of Her Majesty which dominated the room with an air of regal authority.

In the centre of the study was a large mahogany desk which had been cleared but for the jar of cold cream, three crook-handled canes of varying lengths and thicknesses and a heavy two-foot ruler with an ivory edge. An armchair of well worn leather was to the left of the desk and to the right French windows looked out onto the playing fields.

Framed in the windows was the tall figure of Miss Faversham flexing a long, straight cane elegantly in front of her with an air of imperious authority. Under her black academic gown she wore an expensive tweed suit, black stockings and stilettos with rather high heels. Her brunette hair fell in neat curls under the tasseled black mortar board. The fine features had a certain aloofness and a rather cold, hard expression was natural to her beauty.

The two offenders stared shamefully down at the carpet in total submission to her supreme authority.

Miss Faversham's eyes bored into them through her green tortoiseshell spectacles as she pursed her lips preparing to speak.

'It has been brought to my attention that in flagrant violation of a school rule you, Worsley, have seen fit to introduce this noxious substance onto the school premises,' she announced gravely whilst indicating the cold cream with a look of grim contempt.

Blushing with shame Georgina bowed her head further and answered in an almost inaudible voice, 'Yes, Miss Faversham.'

'It would appear,' the Headmistress continued, 'that you, Forster, were an accomplice in this serious offence.'

Penelope cast down her eyes and swallowed, 'Yes, Miss Faversham.'

The Head's firm gaze scanned the two offenders standing before her in abject humiliation. She had in fact noticed Worsley during the hockey trials, noting that her figure had matured considerably since last term, something not uncommon in girls of her form and that she was becoming a young lady of considerable charms. Happening to inspect the changing rooms after the game, she had seen Worsley in the shower and her impressions bad been confirmed by the lovely young body there revealed to her.

The girls looked down in the silence of immense guilt. The pause seemed endless. Penelope guessed from the Head's statement that a sound thrashing was inescapable for both of them. Her whole backside was still an aching, red-raw inferno that made moving painful and she simply couldn't conceive of further chastisement of its tender, ravaged surface.

Miss Faversham, however, had her own ideas.

'It has also been brought to my attention that you, Forster, were rightly and duly punished yesterday by the School Captain. Nonetheless the offence for which you are now before me undoubtedly merits a sound beating.'

Penny's head began to swim and she wondered if she was going to faint... the Head was perfectly correct and was entitled to thrash her again... she was shaking with nervousness and confusion... she knew she couldn't take the pain... and Miss Faversham never altered the rules...

'However,' the Head began suddenly, 'I have decided on this occasion that your punishment will be to fag for the School Captain all term. Furthermore you will be gated for the whole of this term and serve two hours extra work each evening. You are now dismissed.'

Penny couldn't believe her ears: Miss Faversham wasn't going to beat her! Every fibre of her body gasped with relief. With a wince she managed a curtsy, said, 'Thank you, Miss Faversham' without raising her eyes and walked stiffly from the study, still wondering if she was imagining it.

Georgina looked down nervously at the carpet frightened and alone before the all-powerful figure of the Headmistress. The girl wondered why Penny had been let off, it was most unlike Miss Faversham, and now what would become of her?

The Head scanned the length of the lovely young schoolgirl in striped blazer, gymslip and white socks. She was indeed delightfully pretty. Miss Faversham walked to her desk and picked up the long, heavy ruler, then seated herself in the armchair. Bells chimed in the Sussex landscape.

'You will position yourself across my knee, Worsley,' the Headmistress suddenly commanded.

'Yes, Miss Faversham,' Georgina replied quietly and walked across the study, her legs like jelly and her head bowed. She dropped obediently to her knees before the imperious figure of the Head, feeling desperately ashamed of herself. Then she leant forward across the tweed skirt with her elbows on the carpet, her face a few inches off the floor.

'It is my intention to remove your knickers,' the Headmistress announced with inflexible authority.

'Yes, Miss Faversham,' said Georgina blushing deep crimson.

The Headmistress placed her right hand on the schoolgirl's thigh just above the knee and slowly pushed it under her navy gymslip feeling the exquisite curve of the leg. Her fingers reached the navy blue cotton knickers but seemed to fumble at the elastic and pass on up to the buttock, smoothing down the creases of the skimpy knickers and moulding the enticing form of her rump. Then an exploring left hand caressed the left thigh and also reached the ripe young cheeks, carefully smoothing down the knickers stretched taut over the soft but firm orbs.

Georgina waited in an agony of tension for the inevitable onslaught to begin. Was it taking a long time or was she just imagining it? She was too distraught to be able to tell.

The Headmistress caressed both buttocks lovingly through soft, cotton knickers... she hardly regretted the other schoolgirl's absence... suddenly as if collecting herself she slipped her long varnished nails under the elastic at the gusset, indenting the girl's flesh, then slowly drew the knickers down to the girl's knees. With her left hand she softly folded the gymslip over, revealing the naked cheeks, like the ceremonial unveiling of some sublime sculpture. They were firm, white and of delightful shape, unblemished but for a few goose pimples and the reddish lines of the elastic.

Georgina gritted her teeth in an agony of anticipation and flushed hot and cold. The silence seemed absolutely endless.

Suddenly Miss Faversham raised the ruler high above her head and brought it swinging down with all her force across both buttocks with a tremendous SMACKKK!

Georgina howled out her shock and pain in a shrieking 'YEOWWW!'

Before she could begin to absorb the stinging pain of the blow another landed on the same spot, then another and another in rapid succession. Her right leg kicked up involuntarily as the stinging ruler smacked home across her throbbing rump and a first tear rolled down her cheek. Her buttocks went pink and wriggled uncontrollably, she gasped and shrieked as the ruler rose and fell as if possessed of a life of its own. Miss Faversham's brow knitted in concentration as she rained down one powerful blow after another across the stinging, reddening target.

Georgie's very pretty face winced and contorted in pain, a mask of perspiration and tears. She gasped at the agonising force of the ruler smacking her tender buttock cheeks and screamed out as the edge of the merciless ruler wickedly tortured the scarlet flesh.

Sobbing piteously she held her head on the floor as she helplessly endured the shower of blows rained down on her by her relentless Mistress, inwardly begging her to stop but knowing that the slightest protest would only intensify her agony. And how long would the anguish go on? This uncertainty was almost as bad as the pain itself.

As the vicious ruler beat into her rump she vowed she would never again disobey Miss Faversham, so total was her domination.

But at last the ruler rested still on her swollen, searing buttocks. She sobbed, a completely broken spirit, her raw, chastised posterior humbly presented to her mighty Mistress and tormentor.

Miss Faversham surveyed her handiwork. The buttocks and upper thighs were thoroughly red with the odd deeper welt from the ruler's edge and raised lumps where carefully aimed blows had been imprinted on top of each other. So far so good, she thought.

'You will now position yourself across the desk,' the Head commanded sternly. Georgina slowly lifted herself to her feet, now a dishevelled parody of the neat schoolgirl who had entered the study, her striped tie undone, long dark hair unkempt across her face, knickers hanging round her ankles, her face bowed in profound shame and mortification.

As if reading her thoughts the Headmistress commanded: 'Remove your knickers completely, Worsley.'

'Yes, Miss Faversham,' Georgina answered weakly, kicking off her navy knickers leaving the crumpled garment rather pathetically on the carpet, her last slight hope of protection gone.

Her legs felt like jelly but she managed to walk stiffly across the study. She stood close to the edge of the desk and leant painfully forward across the top holding the further edge of the desk with her hands; a perfect target. The desk top was hard and uncomfortable beneath her aching ribs as she turned her head slightly to look imploringly at her formidable tormentor, tears trickling down her cheeks, her breath coming in whimpers.

The Headmistress flexed a long, fearful cane as if transfixed by the pliant power she held between her hands. She walked around the desk and positioned herself with legs apart, a carefully measured distance from the sobbing schoolgirl. Her left hand smoothed down the navy blue gymslip and lingered on the curve of the chastised bottom beneath. Then she folded the garment over to reveal the hot blotched buttocks and thighs separated by her shiny bush of dense, dark hair.

Miss Faversham held the cane just above the centre of those once silky smooth buttocks which she herself had transformed into flaming mounds. Georgina screwed her eyes up tight, every muscle a vice of tension awaiting the coming onslaught. The moment seemed to go on forever. She heard a church bell ringing away across the Downs. The Headmistress was poised like an Olympic jumper awaiting the perfect moment to launch herself...

Suddenly she jerked the cane high above her head and brought it down with every ounce of her weight in an almighty THWACKKK across the middle of Georgina's rump!

The girl shrieked out in agony and shock, her legs kicking up automatically as a merciless shower of mighty whacks followed in unbelievably quick succession. Her bum wriggled frantically in a futile attempt to escape the flashing cane which scorched her buttocks with an anger rare even in Miss Faversham. Her whole rump was blazing under its furious, stinging lashes. Wincing and gritting her teeth desperately at the ever-increasing pain, her head swam and she wondered if she would faint. Her buttocks which had previously been thoroughly red blotched were now striped with almost mathematical precision by rising red ridges and crimson weals down to the tops of her thighs.

'YEOWWWW!' she howled over and over again, her cries echoing around the wails. Georgie wept her heart out as the Head thrashed down stroke after stroke as if possessed by some superpotent force. The deafening THWACKS mingled with her howls, shrieks and screams, her buttocks vainly squirming, legs kicking wildly after each new whipping blow...

Then as if by some divine intervention there was a firm knock at the door. Miss Faversham paused, collected herself and answered in her cultured tones:

'I am engaged at present, who is it?'

A Scottish voice replied, 'Begging your pardon Headmistress, Lady Fairfax has arrived and is looking over the library.'

'Very well, Matron,' she called out. 'I will join her directly.'

Miss Faversham set aside her cane, calmed herself and adjusted her suit and hair. Lady Fairfax was a wealthy old girl and an important benefactor of St. Elia's.

She turned to the pathetic figure of Georgie crying loudly across the desk too frightened to move. The Head uttered the commanding words 'You are now dismissed, Worsley' and strode purposefully from the room.

* * *

The next afternoon Penny found herself hard at work in the School Captain's Study. She was thoroughly miserable, her expulsion plan just wasn't working.

What a term she thought to herself! It was only Wednesday and already she'd been thrashed, gated, and to cap it all now she was down on her knees with a dustpan sweeping up for Eleanor Burns in the undignified role of fag – a position normally filled by much younger junior girls, and only very rarely awarded to a senior as a humiliating punishment. Added to that, because of her, poor Georgina had been severely thrashed and was even now in the dorm trying vainly to soothe her blazing bottom.

Things couldn't get much worse!

Penny got to her feet and began dusting off the bookshelves. She stretched awkwardly to reach the top shelf, lost balance and down came half a dozen books in a heap on the floor.

'Oh hell!' she yelled, hoping Eleanor didn't come in.

She began putting the books back when out of a diary dropped a pink envelope. On the front was written 'To Darling Eleanor'. What a laugh Penny thought! Some steamy love letter from one of Eleanor's boyfriends! Listening carefully for footsteps outside in the corridor she slipped the letter out and unfolded it. Her sly smile of amusement changed to a look of astonishment as she read on.

It was a steamy love letter all right, but it was from Rosamund Grant!

As the truth dawned on Penny other thoughts ran through her mind. She folded the letter back into the envelope and put it in her pocket, quickly finished her tasks in a preoccupied mood and made her way back to the dorm. She was walking on air. Being expelled suddenly seemed unimportant. The letter could change everything.

Georgie was lying on her bed on her tummy reading a girl's magazine and wincing noticeably as she changed position. Penny sat on the edge of her bed in a state of some excitement.

'Georgie, you won't believe what I've found!' she cried.

Georgina was much too keenly aware of her red raw buttocks still throbbing and immensely tender from yesterday's thrashing to raise much enthusiasm. However, as she read the letter which Penny handed over her expression changed to one of amazement.

'Gosh!' she exclaimed. 'I knew they were close friends but this is pretty strong stuff!'

'You're not kidding,' Penny agreed. She took the letter and read out in a mock romantic voice: 'I long for the touch of your ripe young breasts.'

They both burst into peals of laughter! Then Penny grew more serious.

'The thing is, Georgie, this is our chance to settle scores with those two little tyrants, isn't it?'

Georgie's expression changed too. She hadn't seen that side of it.

'You don't mean...' she began.

'I mean this letter's going straight under Miss Faversham's door while everyone's at supper,' she said clearly and with determination.

'Crikey,' Georgie said. This was going to make some waves!

* * *

The next morning Miss Faversham's face bore a concerned expression as she sat behind her desk rereading the pink letter which had appeared under her door the previous evening. This was a serious matter and she had called on Matron for a discussion.

'There's the reputation of the School to think of, Headmistress,' Matron reminded her.

Miss Faversham realised this. If two such senior girls were expelled the Press would get hold of it. In short there would be a dreadful scandal. On the other hand something of this sort could not possibly go unpunished...