The Newcomer

Story from Janus 64.

The Newcomer
by Andrew Grantham

'THANK YOU, Mr Johnstone.'

Anne-Marie smiled at the landlord of the old, converted house where the 20-year-old student had taken up a tenancy.

'Call me Paul,' he invited the blonde, putting her portable TV down on the rather battered sideboard. 'We've something in common, you see. I went to the same university myself ten or so years ago.'

'Really?' Anne-Marie's big green eyes widened as she looked at the large-framed young man with the clear blue gaze and the trusting face. All alone in a big city for the first time, she suddenly felt that she had a tenuous link with something. A link with what, she didn't exactly know, but at least it was a start.

'Can I make you a cup of tea?' she asked, grateful for his friendliness.

That's very nice of you.' Paul Johnstone sat down in a large, overstuffed easy-chair. Anne-Marie was aware of his intensive gaze sweeping over her body and lingering on the stretched denim curves of her bottom as she bent over a large box to unpack the kettle and teacups.

The girl was rather small-made, but very nicely put together. Her breasts, shapely and firm, caused the tight tee-shirt to stretch and outline her sharp nipples. She would never have got away with wearing it at home. Likewise, the tight faded jeans clearly showed the outline of her skimpy panties beneath.

Anne-Marie had led rather a sheltered life in the country, but now she was 20 and free, determined to break out of that shelter, even if she was a little unsure as to how to do it.

As she straightened up, her mouth gaped open and she gave an involuntary gasp. She had not noticed the vase before, standing on the floor by the hearth. There were no flowers in it though it was full of canes of varying lengths and thicknesses.

'The previous tenant,' exclaimed Paul, jumping to his feet and rushing towards the hearth. 'He and his young lady were into corporal punishment in a big way.'

Anne-Marie nodded dumbly, mesmerised by the sight, as her landlord took a long, whippy, crook-handled wand from the cluster. It sounded like a rattle of applause as it was withdrawn. Memories of something which had recently happened to her came instantly flooding back.

Paul glanced quickly at his new tenant. Her blonde hair framed elfin features in loose curls. Her eyes were wide and she moved pretty, ringless hands to clutch at slender, shapely arms.

'I don't suppose you've ever been caned,' he remarked casually, whirring the instrument through the air.

'Er... yes... I have actually,' confessed the girl, much to Paul's surprise. 'At college last term.' She hesitated and bit her lip, not quite sure whether to continue. 'One of the lecturers...' She started shuffling her feet, one ankle crossing the other, making her hip bone jut forward. 'He shouldn't have, of course — but I... didn't report him or anything.'

'That was very decent of you,' said Paul, but Anne-Marie did not see the gleam in his eye. She still could not take her own eyes away from the rattan collection. Punishment for enjoyment! It was just like one of the stories in that magazine which had been passed around college.

She coloured as her landlord continued. It would have been bad manners to interrupt. Anne-Marie listened, her tongue flicking nervously over her lips as Paul told her, 'It was quite popular amongst the students — as a 'fun thing' of course. Very grown-up and all that. Apparently you felt lovely after it.'

The blonde experienced an electric thrill in the pit of her stomach. Being caned at college by that nice lecturer had been quite an experience and had not been at all bad really. It had been over a bit quickly — perhaps too quickly, if she was honest. Of course it had been a private matter between them, nothing to do with the college, but it had taken care of an internal report that might justifiably have caused problems for her.

Paul detected the slight agitation in her manner and guessed that he had touched a nerve. Immediately he suggested that he take the opportunity to 'initiate' her into CP for pleasure, so to speak. He wouldn't hurt her of course, it would be just enough for her to experience it. Make up her own mind, as it were. See what the fascination was all about.

'I don't know that I ought to,' she said demurely, staring down at the badly worn carpet and swaying slightly from the waist. She had been in a number of the college plays and had developed a range of expressions which she drew on from time to time. She knew very well what she was doing.

Anne-Marie had taken a fancy to the intelligent, sophisticated male and she wanted to appear very adult and worldly. It would not do to appear too eager, but she had to accept his offer before it was withdrawn.

'I'm not taking my knickers off,' she told Paul suddenly. There! She'd agreed.

Paul told her that would be quite all right. He understood.

Her young heart thumping, the blonde nervously slipped the jeans down her slim legs and then sat down to remove them completely — just as she had at the college last term when everyone else had gone home. She had been frightened then, but it was a much different feeling now.

She let Paul position her so that she was kneeling on the easy-chair with her tummy over the padded arm and the palms of her hands on the floor. Her heart was now pounding. At college, it had all been over so soon. She didn't want it to be like that again, but she had to conceal this from him. 'I'll probably ask you to stop, I expect,' she said softly.

Paul cleared his throat and nodded. 'Of course,' he said. 'I understand.'

The handsome house-owner admired her cute, rounded bottom. The snow-white panties clung tightly to the contours of her cheeks, which thrust invitingly up towards him.

The first few strokes were gentle, playful almost. Then, Paul began gradually to lay it on a little harder.

Wrupp! Anne-Marie tasted a stinging blaze across her bottom. She yelped and looked at Paul almost disbelievingly as he pulled her panties up with his left hand, so that most of the material disappeared into the cleft between her buttocks. That left him a lot of sensitive, bare flesh to work on.

Another swishy flick. A cry of pain. The girl's eyes screwed up and watered with the penetrating hurt. Her hands flew off the floor and gripped the back of the chair tightly.

The thin wood attacked her scorched posterior yet again. 'Stop it, please!' blubbered Anne-Marie, but Paul pretended not to have heard. He was sure she wanted more.

The next slashing stroke to her stinging-hot bottom caused the girl to try to shoot upright. Paul however pushed her down with one hand, whereupon she stayed down. He raised the other to deliver a near-vertical stripe to her left buttock.

Anne-Marie squealed and kicked her legs wildly as the muscular young man continued to cane her, one cheek at a time. With each whistle and crack of the descending cane, she squirmed more and more. It was beginning to hurt like hell. Then, just as she thought she could stand no more, Paul stopped. It was over — she had done it!

The thought crossed her mind that she just might have been taken for a ride in the first place by her charming landlord. Still, despite the flaming hurt in her seat, she did feel very grown-up, as if she had crossed a bridge or joined a select group... and she was starting to tingle all over.

* * *

Leaving Anne-Marie rubbing her burning bottom, Paul returned to his own flat carrying the vase of canes. There was a big beam on his handsome features.

As he walked into the lounge, a young red-haired woman busy at the ironing-table looked up. 'Judging by your face, she obviously fell for the bait,' she remarked with a laugh.

Paul nodded. 'She was a push-over,' he told his live-in girlfriend.

She carried on with her chore. 'I just can't understand why these young students fall for that softening-up story about the canes being left by a previous tenant,' she chuckled. 'You're going to get a knee in the groin one term, you know!'

Paul linked his fingers through hers. 'Ten years ago, my darling, you fell for the selfsame opening gambit — remember?'