Monday, 12 April 2010

Nothing Sacred

Story from Uniform Girls 38.

Nothing Sacred

Janine's misery showed on her attractive young face as she stared almost unbelievingly at the telephone she had just replaced on the hook. That had been Mr Wilks. The auditor. The disciplinarian. Mr Wilks, who two weeks ago had proved to her that a cane can be a positively disciplinary instrument when it came to reminding young ladies that Company money is not their's to "borrow" or steal.

That afternoon that she just wanted to forget. That afternoon when she had been instructed to visit the large remote house with that frightening loft. The loft itself was an eerie place but the frightening part of it was when Mr Wilks had turned up with the cane. He had presented a figure not to be trilled with. Nor was there any room for argument when he had stood there, swishing the cane in his hand as though to emphasise the awful power he had over her. Again, as she stared at the telephone not wanting to believe that she had just spoken to Mr Wilks. Janine was forcibly reminded of that dreadful afternoon. He had made her take down her panties. He had made her stand there, with her dress held high so that he could stand and look openly at the soft plateau of her tummy and the brush of pubic hair.

She had expected him to feel her there and then, but to her surprise he had made her bend her bottom without her knickers on... and he had made sure that she really did bend it too. Not caring that she could not clench her rounded cheeks tightly together as though to salvage some dignity and modesty from the humiliating situation. Dignity? Modesty? There had been little thought for such graces that afternoon. Especially when he insisted that she thrust her naughty bottom right out. The pain had been something excruciatingly impressive. Mr Wilks was a wizard with figures and he was a master with the cane.

She preferred to surrender to the convenience of amnesia regarding what happened after he had punished her so thoroughly. She knew she had stayed perfectly still whilst he had slowly stripped the rest of her clothes. From her. And he had touched her where he had assured her all girls like to be touched.

It was true that he had not actually physically performed anything with her, but there were two opposite feelings when he was stroking her between her legs. The pain on her bottom was burning and the thrills from her valley were exciting. It was all so crazily mixed up for her right now.

And now, like a serial of horror stories, he was back! His voice had held that same soft, yet commanding quality that she associated with him. And there she had two more opposites! His soft, very controlled voice and his equally hard and very demanding cane!

Janine knew that she was the sort of personality that would conform to any damn thing he might care to mention when he was swiping her bare buttocks with that terrible, springy cane. Something in the back of her mind told her that she would have to do whatever he told her anyway! He could not possibly know just how much the cane hurt or else, surely, he would not bring it down so hard.

How she had writhed. How she had yelped and pleaded. He had seemed to be indifferent to her imploring tones. It was as though he was stone deaf! The rafters of that loft had rung with her rising toned voice as each stroke of the cane had brought fresh responses from her throat and mouth. She had signed the note afterwards in which she readily agreed to accept whatever punishment he preferred to give her. Such was the state of her pain wracked bottom that she knew that she was prepared to sign anything at all. But that note had only contained the truth after all said and done. It had meticulously outlined the cause of her punishment and that in itself was an indicating document. There was no mention of the fact that she had only intended to "borrow" the money. It had all been laid out in stark truth without any fringes of belittling the offence. She recalled reading the opening sentence. "I, Janine acknowledge that I am a thieving young woman and admit that I have stolen money from my employers, and because I deserve to be punished, I accept punishment from Mr Wilks without complaint, protest or expectations of being excused from this terrible crime of which I am guilty. I must expect to be very obedient to whatever Mr Wilks seems a term of punishment and this must certainly include a chastisement on my bare bottom..." the document had gone on and on and every sentence was further incrimination of her character and a cementing of a contract in which she had virtually laid herself wide open to become a model of obedience regarding the punitive demands of the austere Mr Wilks. That signed missive had now made her the helplessly defenceless young woman that she was. With that evidence in his hands, he was able to demand anything he liked from her and despite her reluctance to obey him, she was powerless to do otherwise.

Now the telephone call had brought back very sharply the "duty" she owed to Mr Wilks. This coming week-end, he had told her. Same place. Same time. Pretty near the same punitive lesson as last time but with added flavours to remind her how hopelessly she was under his thumb.

The place had not changed! Hardly in two weeks. It still held a frightening atmosphere for Janine. The last time she had come here had been her first. She had not known then how much a cane can stripe and sting. Pain is hard to recall in a physical sense, but Janine remembered how it had hurt her like fire. She remembered too how ashamed she had felt at the sheer humiliation of the positions he had made her get into. Fully rounded postures that exposed her shapely bottom to the extreme of curviness. She accepted that it must obviously look most attractive when she thrust it back the way he made her, but why did he have to punish it when she was trying hard to do what he told her. She had hoped fervently, that he would be satisfied in feeling it with his hands, although this had caused her to shudder as he had insisted that she keep the nates pushing right back so that he was able to stroke and feel them with almost leisurely carresses.

Her pretty features were now revealing the blushing shame she was suffering. She looked down at her neat blue checked dress and then at the flat heeled court shoes with her white socks encasing her lower legs and feet. This mode of dress that Mr Wilks insisted she wear only added to a sense of frustrating helplessness. Involuntarily and hardly aware of what she was doing, she stroked the palms of her hands over the rounded cheeks of her bottom, feeling the crispness of the dress as she did so. It was all too awful. It was just too degrading to think about. He had proved to her that she was not too big to have her bottom punished, and her bare bottom at that. Whoever would have believed that she, Janine, had stripped her panties down when he had told her to do so, and she had actually knelt at the stool with her ripe nates thrusting so rudely for Mr Wilks to stroke her bare bum just before he had given her the mind boggling strokes of the cane.

She appeared almost wistful in her waiting stance as she stood now, facing the door, her hands behind her back. He would come through that door when he was good and ready. It would not be a surprise to her because she would hear him coming up that flight of wooden stairs. Uncarpetted they were so the tread of his ascending steps could not be covered in silence. She knew the procedure now, but knowledge of how to proceed only added to the dreadful and mortifying shame that she now felt.

She heard the creak of the lower step, and something inside her froze, she almost called out in panic. Slowly, certainly unhurried, the advancing sounds of his feet getting closer and closer to the loft-attic grew louder. As she saw his figure approaching the door which had been just slightly ajar, she gripped her dress and pulled it up to a line above her waist. She was exposing her tight brief type knickers and a whole area of her smooth tummy. He came through the door, and his face expressed no emotion whatsoever. Only seriousness in his features as his eyes once again traversed the smooth contours of her shapely torso. So rudely displayed as he had instructed her too. As he slowly approached, she remembered she had to turn round and she did so that by the time he was close to her, she was facing the opposite direction, and again, she felt the cheeks of her bottom tighten together. She chewed the inner lip and suffered the light pats of his hand on her rounded tight knickers but she made no sound that might he mistaken for protest. The word protest did not enter her mind right now. Obedience was certainly the word of the day right now.

"Alright, you may drop your dress," she felt relief at the unexpected instruction.

Perhaps he had changed his mind! Perhaps he was not going to actually punish her with the cane today. She wondered whether he was going to use other methods to remind her what a naughty girl she had been. Like... well... perhaps he wanted to "play" with her without having to use punitive methods as he did before. Perhaps all sorts of things that did not include the use of a stick.

"Do you know what this is?" his dry, soft tone asked.

She turned again and her eyes saw the strap in his hand. As she realised what use such a fearsome thing could be put to, her eyes widened and very real fear stabbed through her. It was not just an ordinary strap like a belt, but a twin thonged piece of equipment.

"I... It's a strap," she could hardly recognise the misbelief expressed by her own voice.

Speaking was a strangled incredulous tone that came from her mouth!

"It is a tawse," his own voice conveyed contempt at her ignorance.

"A... a tawse," her voice repeated hardly audible.

"A very good piece of leather is the tawse. Has a much better quality at reminding naughty young ladies how to behave better in the future.

And you have been a naughty young lady, haven't you?'

"Y... yes, Sir," she squirmed.

This was another attitude that he had insisted on. He wanted her agreeing with him in whatever he said and what he required of her. She had learned a very quick and speedy lesson in trying to avoid repealing Mr Wilks precise phraseology, and the lesson had been an additional painful striping from the cane. The cane had now been replaced by this tawse thing. Janine did not like this either. She hated the cane, but this supple double thonged leather was a most awe inspiring piece of hide that she had ever seen. And she automatically realised that whatever he demanded her to say then she was not going to be backward in saying it. No matter what!

"What have you been, Janine," it was as though he wanted her to be very aware of her position and to be reminded of what she had done.

"I... I have been a very naughty young lady, sir," she choked.

"And you deserve to have this tawse across your bottom, don't you?" he insisted.

"Er... er... yes, sir I do," she moaned helplessly.

"Tell me Janine. We do not want any misunderstandings do we... tell me that you deserve to have the tawse across your bottom. Your bare bottom," he was like a school teacher trying to get a point across to a slow thinking pupil.

"I... I deserve to have the tawse across my bare bottom," she was squirming inwardly like mad now.

He held it out and in shaking fingers she took it. It felt so cold. So unfeeling. Normally she would not mind holding a strap, but this was a terrible thing; supple and purposeful too.

Janine did not want to hold the detestable leather and she ached for him to take it from her, despite the fact that she knew that once she realised it he would have it in his hand and then the trashing of her bum would commence. It was all so very conflicting in her mind. He even added to her acute discomfort by making her offer it to him and then she had to repeat that she was very aware of her naughtiness and that this was the strap with which to punish her.

He indicated the chair and directed her to kneel on the seat facing the back. Terrible stabbing sensations of trepidation and fear once again throbbed through her as she knelt on the hard wooden seat. He then told her to lift her dress up to her waist. Again, in a state of remorse and degrading shame, Janine hoisted the dress until the white panty knickers were exposed. It was a forlorn hope that he would leave them there. He didn't. She had to physically repress her emotions from begging him not to use this strap tawse and her silence was not indicative of her acceptance that this was the natural order of things. As he eased her panty knickers further and further away from her shapely bending bottom, Janine responded to the heated humiliation at having to silently suffer this ignomonous treatment of the baring of her buttocks.

They certainly looked very inviting and as he made her thrust her nates back, so she automatically reacted obediently. Mr Wilks was able to see how her extra effort caused the perfect spheres to take on more and more attractive perfection as they curved almost in a manner that would normally suggest that she was enjoying this experience and this was only caused by her own mind telling her that she just had to appear to be as cooperative as she could. But that was all it was. Appearances. Shuddering spearheads of shame were engulfing her now as she knelt on the seat easing the flinching nates into perfect response and readiness for punishment.

Janine closed her eyes as if to blot out the agonising sensation filling her body. He was carressing her tautened skin again. And she could do nothing, absolutely nothing to dissuade or stop him. She gritted her teeth and kept perfectly still as the disciplinarian's palm stroked all over the moons of her bottom. He did not attempt to touch her between her accessible thighs even though these were now kneeling some eighteen inches apart. The soft intimate valley of her thighs were most certainly available should he decide to have his fingers delving and playing, but he was concentrating more on the intended part of her anatomy that he would soon be watching as it wriggled and writhed in response to the heat that he was soon to ignite on them.

The swish of the tawse was a much different sound than that of the cane she discovered although her interest in sound evaporated as soon as the end product was achieved! There was that whining swish and then there was a distinct cracking sound of thwacking... but it was the sudden infusion of indescribable hot pain that followed the thwack that shook Janine from silence to a resounding and echoing yelp. Her head shot up and her right hand thrust round in an automatic reaction to the fire brand that had been laid fully and squarely across both buttocks.

"OOOOOWAAAAH... NO... NO... NO... NO... NO... OH PLEEEASE PLEEEASE," her lips formed the words, her bottom and the terrible sting that had been placed across it dictated the response.

"Get your hands away... how dare you?" he snapped.

What am I doing?, she feverishly thought to herself. Oh no, I cannot take any more of this. It is just too terrible and painful for words. "Keep your bottom still," he added a further impossible instruction. Keep it still? I'm not moving it!! It is behaving all by itself!!! It was most certainly writhing now and the second stroke from the terrible tawse brought the natural reaction again...

"PLEEEASE... IT HURTS TOO MUCH... MY BOTTOM IS HURTING TOO MUCH... NO MORE... PLEASE... PLEASE... OH PLEASE NO MORE," she tearfully jerked the imploring words from her mouth.

He continued to prove her wrong. He brought four more strokes across the ever gyrating target of her bottom now, and these were wristy cuts. Full strength strokes that Janine thought impossible to receive and still her knees jerked about, her bottom thrust and went into every possible movement. Round and round, backwards and forewards and then from side to side. It seemed undetermined which way to writhe to soothe and respond to the fierce tempo of pain now springing up on both cheeks. There was no doubt that her bottom had been punished. The thick lines were very easily exhibited. Mr Wilks was able to see the exact spots where Janine must have hurt the most.

"I'll do anything... anything at all... prove me... tell me to do anything you can think of and I'll obey you," she assured him without really thinking. She certainly meant it, but what she should have realised was that she would have to do "anything" any way if he chose to make her respond to other commanding instructions!

He then told her to stand before him. She still held her dress clear of the hell-fired globes of her bottom and she used the hem of her dress to dry her eyes, or certainly to help stem the flow of streaming tears that just would not cease erupting from her stinging eyes.

Her bottom was still twitching continually because she was unable to control it. The nates were clenching and unclenching and she was shifting from one foot to the other.

"I had meant to show you the small bedroom immediately beneath this attic room," he said.

The statement was lost on her.

"I shall correct that forgetfulness today," he said.

The pain. The awful constant pain, was the only sense that Janine was thinking about. She did not care about small bedrooms and she did not care what he intended. Just so long as he left the tawse where it was. When he told her to sit down, she did so with the utmost care! Slowly and then her face making the grimace of response to additional pain, she slowly let her bare bottom contact the seat on which she had just been kneeling. The tawse, that awful bloody tawse was now on the floor at her feet.

His fingers were busy again. Just as they had been last time. With sure progress, knowing that she was unable to prevent him he slowly removed her clothes. This had happened last time, hadn't it?

He was speaking to her again, but because he had released the tawse and left it at her feet, she was only half listening. The sheer hell pain on the cheeks of her bottom took up too much sensation for her to be interested in anything else. She seemed vaguely aware that she was undressed and he was speaking about her breasts and nipples and what young men did with them. Even though he was squeezing her orbs, she could not feel any enthusiasm one way or the other.

Then they were going down the stairs, her voice making small sounds as his hand patted her throbbing nates and then there was this small bedroom; a small single sized bed and he was telling her to get between the cool sheets... as she spread her thighs wide she felt the seeking fingers feeling her where, he said all girls liked to be felt.

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