Monday, 10 May 2010

Fancy man

Story from Swish Vol.6 No.4.

Fancy man

I didn't really fret about Mum and Dad getting divorced. There had always been rows and they never really got along. No really bad faults on either side. Just one of those things. Anyway, I was seventeen and my sister, Susan, two years older than me, so no 'howling kids' were affected by it. We went on seeing Dad in his other house. Things evened out pretty well.

Up to the first year, anyway. Then Mummy began going out more, for which I didn't blame her and one evening asked, tentatively, if we minded if she brought a friend home. We got the message immediately, without her saying it, that the said friend was male and I thought it rather cute and touching she should ask. Of course, we didn't mind – in fact got worked up with curiosity about him. It wouldn't be fair to stay in all the evening that he was visiting – Susan and I decided – so we got ready to go out and just 'paid our respects' to him for a few minutes when he turned up.

"He's not bad", Susan remarked as we left. – "No, not bad at all", said I. He was forty-five or so – a couple of years older than Mummy – and very much what I call the City gent type, even down to a neat, military-style moustache. Well-spoken and polite – about, but also secretly likes. It doesn't come often nowadays.... but that phrase, entering my mind as it did, was one I was to remember in quite unforeseen circumstances.

Phillip, as he was called, became a regular visitor, not only in the evenings but at weekends, so that we got to know him better – or thought we did. Susan and me, I mean. He had a good range of conversation, though he could get a bit boring when he talked about discoveries being made in quantum physics and astronomy, which I didn't understand, but then he would switch and talk about books and novels and even poetry, and Mum would listen to him fascinated. You could tell she was hooked.

Then one evening he suddenly asked Mummy, "Do the girls wear stockings? Not tights, I hope? Tights are unhealthy and very constricting". I gulped a bit. Susan looked at me, mouth open. – "Why, I'm not sure. It depends....", Mummy began and then looked at me first and asked, "Do you?". – I shrugged. "Depends what I feel like", I said, "– same as Susan", I added for her. He didn't say anything but the next night he opened his briefcase and took out a very flash, small carrier from a posh West End boutique.

"There you are", he said to me and Susan as if we'd waited all our lives for this, "Six pairs of black stockings for you each. No more tights. I don't like you wearing tights". There was a bit of silence, though we dutifully said thanks, and it was obvious that the Dior nylons were the very best. – "We don't always wear black, of course", Susan said a bit apologetically. – "I realise that, Susan, but indoors I shall prefer you to". His voice was a bit sharp as he said it. – "Ah", I said, or some sound to that effect. – "Bloody cheek!", Susan said when we went upstairs and put them on. – "Well... it's not important", I said feebly. I kept mine on to go out in. Delicious, sleek and tight-fitting, they were. I liked them. Susan stayed in.

I got back at about eleven thirty that night and the house was pretty quiet. It occurred to me then that little by little we had all started to go to bed earlier at weekends since Phillip was around. When he was staying over, I mean. – "Well, time for bed", he would say and even Mum would go up meekly. Susan didn't always, though. As I passed her door I could hear a faint sobbing. Oh dear, I thought, there's been a row. I like to keep out of such things until they've cooled down, but I had to go in and see her. She was lying on her bed like I'd never seen her – in her jumper, black stockings, shoes.... and nothing else. Her face and body were turned to the wall and her lovely pale bottom wasn't. It wasn't exactly pale, I mean. Looked more like strawberries and cream with deep pink splotches over it. And she was snivelling – like she was fifteen instead of twenty.

"Hey!", I said quietly and closed the door. Realising it was me, Susan sat up more quickly than I thought she could with an obviously hot bottom like that and said, "He... he... he sp....spanked me!" – "Phillip?", I asked. Silly question. I sat on the side of her bed and the thought went through me – uninvited – that she looked pretty sexy in her black Diors and matching suspender belt with her navel twinkling, not to say her well-bushed pussy. Her skirt was flung behind a small white folding chair. I couldn't see her knicks.

"Wh...wh...what for?", I stammered. – "He me.... oh!", was all the reply I got. I didn't immediately ask her any more. It should really have struck me as a bloody outrage. I should have said something else. Don't know what came over me. I drew her face into my shoulder and made hush-baby noises and stroked her hair. – "T..t...took my p..p..panties off, he did", Susan sobbed. I felt a tingle go through me. – "Did he... did he spank you hard, then?", I asked. She nodded blindly. I didn't feel any actual tears on her cheeks against my shoulder. – "D...D...Daddy never did", she whimpered. – "No", I said vaguely, "but... but what did you DO?"

"I cheeked him – that's what he said. CHEEKED him – at MY age!" – "Oh... well... didn't Mummy try to stop him?" I asked. – "Huh! No, she didn't. Of course, she didn't see it. He was crafty about that. Followed me up to my room and I yelled but he p...p...put his hands up my skirt and just yanked my panties down. Oh honestly, Jane, it was AWFUL – you can't imagine. He put one foot up on my bed and bent me over his knee and...."

"I bet you kicked", I said helpfully. – "Kicked! I yelled, too, but he said if I did he would give it to me harder – and, oh, how his palm blasted in! He kept my skirt up all the time, and then...." – "What?", I asked. I held her tighter. – "Oh, shut up", she said pettishly and pushed away and sat up with her legs coiled under her. "If... if he does it again....', she said, and like many people she never finished the sentence. We'd both had spankings before – not fierce ones or anything – but not with our panties off. – "What... what did he do.... I mean what did he say afterwards?", I asked, all agog.

Susan stretched her legs out against my back and flung her arm over her eyes and wiggled her hips a bit. – "I'm going to sleep", she said sullenly. – "O.K. Well, put your nightie on at least", I said and went out. Struck me that she was playing up a bit. With me, I mean. The way she hadn't answered everything and the way it obviously hadn't stung her the way she tried to make out. When I was undressing and thought about it more, it was almost like she had been boasting about it. Made me think all right, though. I'd have to be careful if things were going to get like this. Phew.... VERY careful. I knew what a large male palm on my 'globe' felt like, but not on my bare bum, thanks.

Cautious is as cautious does, though, and if you try to be too careful you fall into it. First of all, Susan had a row with Mummy the next morning, but it didn't help. "It was only for your good, Susan", she got told vaguely and stamped her foot (yes, really!) and rushed out. I wanted to ask Mummy if I was going to be spanked, but it seemed a daft question. I fell for it three days later, on a Sunday, when we were all together and Phillip suddenly asked me, "You haven't got stockings on, have you?"

I blushed. He wasn't supposed to be able to tell that. Mummy coughed and said nothing. Susan said "Oh!" and walked out of the room. – "Yes, I have, why?", I asked. – "Jane, you are NOT to fib. You have a thin skirt on and I can see no sign of suspender clips", he said and stood up in the living room. Kerrist, I thought, he looks THAT closely? He was right, anyway. – "Now, listen", I said defensively, "I'll wear what I.... NO! You dare! Mummy!"

The way he stepped towards me told me everything. I turned from him and he tried to grab my arm. I was out of the room like a bolting rabbit and through the kitchen into the garden. I didn't think he'd try anything there. Silly me. I'd forgotten about the shed. "No!", I screeched at him over my shoulder, for he came out almost as fast as I had done. – "MUM!", I yelled again, but no help from that quarter and, worse, I saw Susan peeping down onto the garden from her bedroom window. Oh, bloody hell, I wasn't going to let her see! I ran for the shed and tried to get inside and lock it before he reached me. I didn't.

Didn't get there quite in time, I mean. I got it half closed and then he sort of hurled in and slammed the door himself. It was darkish in there, too. – "No, you don't! No, you don't!", I screeched and tried to back up and nearly fell over my father's old sawing horse. – "You make THIS sort of noise, Jane, and you'll get a dozen – you HEAR me?", he demanded and grabbed my wrist. – "No, don't – no, don't", I heard myself pleading and then uttered a more muffled shriek as he spun me round and in the gloom very adroitly and bent me over – yes! – over Dad's sawing horse.

"YEEE-OW!", I screeched. With one well-practised grab of his hand, up came my skirt – baring me to my hips – and with a sense of total disbelief I felt his hand go into the back of my tights and my blue nylon knicks and draw them very decidedly down. – " WHOO-OO!", I gasped, for his foot went into the loop of them then, just below my knees, and by pressing with it he snuggled them to my ankles and gave me such a big smack on my naked cheeks as made my mouth open wide before a yelp came up from my throat. Bloody hell, it burned! I wriggled my hips crazily, tried to get up, but his free hand clamped me down so that I was doubled right over.

"Now, Jane, THIS is discipline, and I mean you to have it. You want twelve like that?" – "NOOO-NOO-NOOOO!", I sobbed, tightening my hot bum and very, very much aware of all he could see. – "Very well, Jane, I will reduce the score to six and I'll count the one you've just had among them. Five only to come – IF you stand up and take your ridiculous tights and knicks right off, then your skirt". – "NO-WOH-WOH! Susan didn't!", I squealed incautiously and heard him laugh. Yes – LAUGH!

"Oh yes, she did, Jane – whatever she might have told you. After the first two she did. Now.... OFF with them, young lady, or else! I mean it! If you really want a full dozen...." – ", I don't!", I wailed. I knew he did mean it. Shamefully, as his hand slowly released me, I unbent shakily and, blushing like mad, stripped off to my blouse, keeping my back to him. I felt naked and practically was. I didn't know whether to stand or bend over. – "D...d...don't spank me", I said and hated saying it. It didn't do me any good.

He didn't make me bend. Standing sideways to me he put one hand under my chin and held my face up level. I stared at the dark wall. "A good mark for that, Jane. Your sister wasn't so obedient – but she will be. Now – move your feet apart and stick your bottom out. Come on, now!" – I wanted to blurt "Huh?", but instead, I gulped and obeyed. It was a funny position. I felt rude. – "For a good mark, Jane, you get a light spank only. Remember that always. Will you?".

With his hand tight up under my chin I couldn't really answer. I made a hissing noise through my nose. He took it as consent. In the next second his free hand gave me a sharp quick stinger that made me straighten and bounce forward. "YEEEK!", I gritted, though to tell the real truth it wasn't half so bad as I thought. My cheeks burned, though, and tightened. – "Position again, Jane – as before – stick it well out", he soothed. – "It me", I whined.

"Only a little. You know it doesn't really hurt. Would I hurt you, eh?" SMACK! – "YEEE-OUCH!", I gritted. The way my botty stung already, the second made the flames burn hotter. My cheeks squeezed tighter and my eyes blurred. – "HO-HO-HO! Please!", I sobbed. He was implacable. I know I could have twisted my face away, but I didn't. Something stopped me from doing so. 'Discipline' he calls it now.... HUH! I pushed my botty out more delicately for the next one, but he wasn't having that. – "More, Jane", he ordered me and I blinked and bit my lip and did, having to keep my feet and knees bent inwards a little.

"NA-HAAAAR!", I gasped at the next for it was really hard – a full stinger that sent flames and onrushings of fire right through me. I really did straighten up, and with my chin still firmly held. "OOOH-WOOO-WOO-OOH!", I sobbed and worked my bottom all about to try and shake the heat off. You can't, of course. It's best to draw it in by tightening your flaming cheeks. He gave me a long minute, though, to recover from that one and me softly blubbing all the time. When I finally and cautiously pushed myself out again for the next, he said quietly, "Good girl" and gave me a really light one so that I didn't even jerk in.

In fact, much as I was really burning up that first time, it still felt a funny one, like an URGING smack, I'd call it – almost mischievous. "There's my good girl", he said all amidst my muffled sobs and gulps, "You are going to be good, aren't you?". I closed my eyes. I knew I was going to get a hard one if I didn't say now. As far as I could do so, I gave a little nod. It might help, I thought. How naive could I get! I got a blaster. "NEE-OW-OOOOH!", I squealed and in that moment he spun me round and held me tight against him. I mean tight. I could feel something hard jamming up against my bare tummy through his slacks.

"GOOO-GOOO-GOOOO!", I sobbed. My stockinged legs worked this way and that. My bottom felt truly cherry-red hot. I wanted to plunge it into cold water. I wanted anything but this. "Stings, stings, stings!", I choked. – "Shush, darling, yes, I know", he soothed and stroked the back of my hair. Well.... first he stroked the back of my hair but then his hand wandered down gradually (the other arm ringed tight around my slim waist) and finally cupped the throbbing, glossy cheeks of my bum. That made me wriggle more, but since I could only work my hips I was in a real fluster.

"Take it easy now – take it easy", he murmured. – "I c..c...can't!", I sobbed. I made a feeble attempt to push away with my hands, but I didn't get away. That something of his, hard and long as I could feel it was, started to throb. – "Easy now, easy", he kept saying and kissed my forehead! – "Hey!", I wanted to gasp, but you can't do everything at once. He kept me like that for a whole two or three minutes in the dark shed until the stinging receded and a warm glow took its place. All the time his hand was soothing round and under my bottom like it never ought to have done – but truth to tell I knew I wanted it there. The same big palm that had spanked me was comforting me, and I was to learn gradually about that, too.

"You didn't squeal half as much as Susan", he said. That was supposed to mollify me. Actually it did a bit. – "I s'pect you sp...spanked her harder then", I snivelled. – "No, I didn't – exactly the same way as you", he said, and somehow I knew that was true and that she hadn't gone over his knees at all, the lying little so-and-so! – "You've a lovely tight bottom for it – you know you have?", he asked. I shook my head wildly and hid my face into his shirt. I didn't want to know, and he shouldn't be holding me like this. His forefinger was right under my..... Well, it was. Then I really gave a squeal, for the tip of his finger – right under my hot bottom – brushed suavely across my pussylips.

"D..d...don't", I stammered feebly, but I wanted to giggle instead of cry. My tummy felt all swimmy. – "All right, Jane. Put your panties on again, but NOT those tights. No more tights to be worn ever – you hear me?". He released me then and as he did I pushed my skirt down quickly so that he couldn't see my quim. – "All right", I mumbled, and wondered why I wasn't screaming the place down. But then Susan hadn't been QUITE as outraged as she might have been. Had we really been conquered so easily? I was soon to find out!

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