Story from Swish Vol.6 No.4
Down on the farm, Fiona's getting it hot!
As I said in my last, when Carole's Aunt Sheila and Uncle Roger had really given my bare bottom a going-over and then taken me up to my bedroom, my thoughts about what was going to happen next are easy enough to guess. But having plonked me on the bed in the room I had been given in the farmhouse, he just went out and left me alone with her.
On my back as I was with my skirt around my hips still and my knicks lying downstairs, I made instinctively to cover my pussy with my hand, bottom-bouncing on the quilt and with the stingers he had given me flaring and smarting in my bottom.
"No, Fiona!", Aunt Sheila said. I was getting used to calling her that, as Carole did. – "Wh...what?", I blubbered. – "Just be still – as still as you can", she said and, sitting on the edge of the bed, held my wrists gently down at my sides while my stockinged legs twisted all about as I rolled my hot cheeks on the quilt. – "I c...c...can't!", I sobbed, "oh, why d...d...did you do it?" – "Fiona, don't roll your bottom cheeks all about, dear, press them down into the quilt – PRESS them – try now – come on, come on". "I... w...w....w....", I began to stammer, but then she bent right down over me, still holding my wrists, and splurged her warm moist mouth around mine. – "You're all right", she breathed and though I tried to avoid her lips I couldn't and answered her back with my lips trembling to hers.
"I'm n...n...not", I protested weakly, though with all the repeated, whispered coaxing she was giving me, I tried to do as she said and stopped wriggling and pressed my scorched botty down. I didn't want to confess it, but it did feel better. Then her mouth began to move slowly back and forth over mine and an electric tingle went right through me as the tip of her tongue oozed into my mouth. – "I'm going to let go of your hands now, darling, but I want you to remain exactly as you are. You promise?"
"Oh-woh-woh!", I whimpered, but the soft allure of her brushing lips and the quicksilver darting of her tongue around mine was getting to me. Not only that but the stinging was receding little by little, leaving my bottom in a hot glow. "Obedience comes first, Fiona. Pleasure follows", I heard her voice say cloudily. Drawing my unresisting arms up slowly, she put my hands behind my head and gave them a little tap to show they were to stay there. – "There! You see?", she murmured and sat up slowly, and me lying like that with my legs apart and all my springy dark bush showing, and the way she was smiling. – "You SEE – you want to be obedient, Fiona. It's always the right way to start a girl off. I was made to be when I was your age – well, eighteen, actually, so I was a little bit younger than you. Phew! I did get caned, though! – "Oh!" – the little wobbly cry came from me and I made incautiously to sit up, moving my arms down of course, but got a sharp smack on my thigh for it and quickly sank down again. – "I TOLD you", she said and laughed, but not in an unkindly way, then stroked my flushed cheek and kissed me again. "You'll come to the cane, you know", she said. – "I won't!", I said mutinously and she ran the tip of her little finger around the corner of my lips, making my face jerk petulantly.
"I won't hold you, as I did downstairs, just now – remember that", she said, and I knew she meant it. Not only that: I knew it was going to happen. She got up and went out then – saying, "See you downstairs in a minute, huh?". I didn't answer. I curled myself up tight in a ball and kept saying over and over again in my head, "I won't, I won't, I won't. I'm going home, I'm going home". It was too early to go to bed, though, and I wanted a drink. Ten minutes later I sidled down cautiously and slipped into the kitchen to get a glass of water. As I did so Carole's uncle came in and said to me quietly, "All right?". – "Yeah," I said with my back to him. I knew I had to settle myself, though, especially for when Carole and Anne returned, so when he said, "Come on, have a proper drink. We're having vodka and lemonade", I did.
I thought – well, I dreaded – that one or other of them would make some personal remark about me, I mean about the spanking I'd just had, but it wasn't like that. "When you come down next time we'll teach you riding, Fiona. Would you like that?". I couldn't appear surly. I didn't know how to be. – "Yes, it would be nice", I said and tried to keep a quiver out of my voice. It was quite crazy, I thought – talking naturally and in ordinary voices after what had happened. If they had bullied me, it would have been different. I was accepted. That was the funny feeling I got out of it.
Or was it funny? If I was accepted, I had to accept also. Anne was caned the next morning. Carole and I were sitting on the lawn – just like the way it all started – and there was Anne's bedroom window half open at the top of the back of the farmhouse. SWEEEE-ISSSSH! came suddenly to our ears and then a thin, whimpering cry that died away suddenly. I tensed myself and didn't look at Carole who sat tugging at bits of grass. I counted about four seconds then – maybe five. Then it came again – that particular hissing sound that a really flexible cane makes and the slightly quieter sound – from that distance down from bedroom to garden – of it searing across Anne's bottom. Again her thin-pitched cry, and again it was bitten off. "Training", I thought cynically, and couldn't help myself. The next interval was a bit longer. I reckon a good six seconds. I knew with a quivery feeling inside me that she was being given time to absorb it. I wondered if it really hurt her hard and I pictured her bent over her bed, hands flat down on the cover and head hanging, naked bottom poised like a split peach above her slender suntanned legs. PHEW! Then it came again – SWEEEE-ISSSSH! and it sounded longer this time and Anne made a noise something like "GEEE-GEEE-GEEEE!"
I was looking sideways at Carole – I suppose a bit furtively. She bit her lip and kept staring down into the grass but I knew she was listening as tightly and closely as I was. – "HOO-HOOO-HOOO-OOOOH!" from Anne then, and each time the interval between the strokes of the cane was a couple of seconds longer. I thought, too, how she was very obviously taking it, screwing her eyes up and wriggling her hips like mad, the heels of her shoes swivelling all about on the carpet.... and oh, WHY.... why, why, why, why was she being caned and letting herself be?
I reached out and suddenly grasped my hand over the back of Carole's and she jerked her face round to me and asked, "What?". – "Why is she.....?", I began and stopped. Carole jumped up and walked away from the house which was easy enough to do because it was a big garden and led into a paddock at the end. – "Come on", she said to me over her shoulder, "we shouldn't be listening – it's not fair". I jumped up and caught up with her. I didn't say anything for a moment. A long sobbing squeal from Anne that grew fainter and then a sharp, abrupt and stronger cry of "AH-HOOOO!" that was the last I heard.
"I think I'll go back tomorrow – if that's all right", I said. – "No, don't be silly. You said you'd stay the week. Besides, they'll wonder why", Carole said, meaning, I suppose, everyone. I felt trapped. – "You don't really want to, anyway. You're just panicking, Fiona", she said and gave a forgiving laugh. – "I'm not", I mumbled. She obviously didn't know anything about my spanking the night before, which was a comfort.
"Poor Anne", I said, and Carole laughed again. – "You really don't know anything about it, do you, Fiona? If you really wanted to go, you would. You wouldn't just talk about it". That went through me a bit because it was true. I was in a muddle. "Look – I'M not going to be caned", I said fiercely and she took my hand and stopped. – "You won't believe it if I tell you that you'll feel different by the end of the week, will you?" – "NO – I won't", I said stubbornly, but I felt a cold thrill run through me as I said it, for in that instant I remembered her Aunt Sheila's words: "I won't hold you". Then Carole's voice came to me as from a distance, saying, "Fiona, look, you'll only get three first time". I heard my breath hiss up into my nostrils then and I set my teeth. Quite crazily I wanted to scream, "Oh, all right then – do it NOW!" I felt so tense that I really did want to scream. I couldn't get rid of the feeling even through lunch where we all sat as sedately as any five people round the table and Anne didn't even wriggle.
Aunt Sheila kept looking at me covertly. I drank a glass more wine than I meant to. Then, when we'd finished, she pushed her chair back and said abruptly, "Fiona, go upstairs with Uncle Roger, please". I wanted to blurt, "WHAT?", but I didn't. I wanted to say he wasn't my uncle, but I didn't. Aunt Sheila stood up. Carole and Anne just sat and went on talking quietly together. – "Fiona – go ON", I was told more sharply. He got up and went out. I heard him going upstairs. I hated it because Anne and Carole were there. I sort of shrugged as if I couldn't care less and went out after him, legs shaking like jelly. The dining room door closed decisively behind me. I'm going to leave after this, I told myself stupidly.
He was waiting in the bedroom for me. "Close the door", he said. I did. I had a short, flowered dress on, blue and white, stockings, panties and – well – that was it. "Fiona – come here", he said, standing as he was by the bed. I could hear myself breathing. I was so uptight I couldn't speak. I got within a foot of him. I knew what I felt like. Like girls who were called to the Head's study about three years back. – "Fiona, I'm only going to ask you once. Take your knickers off".
I spoke then. I jumped. "Look – please no", I said in a silly, whining voice. He just looked at me. – "I'll only give you three", he said gently, "I promise. They won't be hard, Fiona. You were very good – VERY good – when you had your spanking, weren't you?"
The way he was looking at me I knew I had no chance. Like in a dream I turned shyly away from him, whipped my dress up, pushed my panties down, and so quickly that I swore he only got a flash of my bare bottom. It didn't do though. I stood with my shoulders hunched, panties looped at my ankles, and heard him say behind me, "RIGHT off, Fiona. You ARE wasting time, you know. It'll all be over in seconds". Oh God! I got them off, lifting my feet awkwardly in turn, but not pulling my dress up. He did it for me. Suddenly. I squealed and tried to hit back at him but in the one instant I was spun round and my face jammed down into the bedcover, unveiled to my hips. Well... I'd been made to show him my bottom the night before, but it felt different now.
"STAY!", he blasted at me. I mean, his voice really blasted. As it did, he hooked one leg between mine and forced my ankles apart. "Like that", he said, and his grip on the nape of my neck was like a steel band, "You HEAR me, Fiona".
"You, you, you.... you're going to h...h...hurt me", I whimpered. – "Not if you're good, darling", he replied much more softly, and added, "I'm going to let go of you now – O.K?" – "Yes", I gulped – then he did and stepped back. I heard him take the cane from the top of the wardrobe. Like I told you last time, there was one in each of the bedrooms, ready and waiting. I wanted to get up like I never wanted to get up in my life, bottom up and poised, stockinged legs apart and my pussy peeping at him. It couldn't be me, I thought!
He came back to me and stood to one side. "Now.... just nice 'n easy, darling", he said quietly and then – oh God – HU-ITTTTTTT! – "NEEE-AAAAARGH!", I screeched. It seared across my bottom like a long thin tongue of fire. That was the first feeling, anyway. – "OH-HO-HO-NO!", I sobbed. He didn't answer. What was to answer? He just waited. Now I knew about Anne not jumping up. It was burning me and stinging and raging fire in me like mad, but I didn't get up either.
And he waited. I was in no mood to count the seconds, but it must have been ten at least. – "The first is always the hardest, Fiona", he said – and would you believe there was sympathy in his voice? There was! I cupped my face in my hands. I didn't care what I was showing him any more, legs eighteen inches apart and me desperately squeezing my bottom cheeks and waiting. I even wondered madly for a moment what they were doing downstairs, but the door had been closed and they couldn't hear.
SWOOOO-ISSSH! It sounded louder the second time and then he brought it just an inch below the first, but lighter, skimming up and sideways across my globe so that I gritted my teeth and squealed. Oh, how I squealed! My hips rotated like they were on ball bearings, swivelling this way and that. – "D..d...d...d...!", I stuttered, but I didn't know what I was saying or meaning to say. Then – of all things – his big palm came right under my hot, seared bottom and held me! – "Fiona – press into it!", he barked and it was like his wife telling me to push my bottom down into the bedcover.
"BLUB-BLUB-BLUB!", I sobbed. I rolled my bottom and could feel it against his palm. – "More now", he murmured, and I did it helplessly and shamelessly until he held me fully cupped like that with the tip of his forefinger just very lightly touching my quim. I didn't care. It felt better. Pressing in, I mean. I sobbed on and he held me like that for all of half a minute. Then his fingers slid very sensuously and slowly from under me and I felt so alone – and yes, quite crazily, unwanted – and then THOOO-HUITTTTT!
Right under the bulge of my bum it came, where he'd been holding me, but again it skimmed and I had that feeling again of lightning fire burning and blasting into me and I jerked up – right up – bumping my madly-wriggling bottom full into the front of his slacks. A real BUMP it was and the cane dropped and with one arm around my waist so that my dress was scooped up even higher to just under my tits, he clasped me tight against him while I jived and howled. Then his free hand came up and around and cupped my chin and held my head back so that it was against his shoulder.
"All right, all right, Fiona – all over", he soothed. I was wriggling like a fish and doing a real torso-shimmy, but he held me fast, keeping my head up. – "BOOO-HOOO-HOOOO!", I was sobbing, tears rolling down my cheeks and my bottom cheeks on fire. – "L...l...let me go-ho-ho!", I sobbed, but all I got was his quiet "No" and he waited and waited and waited until the fire burned quieter in me but somehow deeper. Then with a strength I couldn't resist, he turned my chin round and kissed me deep and long on the mouth.
I spluttered, I struggled still, but all the time his lips were demandingly clamped on mine until my breath gasped into his mouth and I just went limp and sagged. The kiss grew longer. My upper lip rolled up and back under his, then he turned me so swiftly about to face him that there was no time to resist. Caressing the red-hot globe of my bottom, he began to whisper praises to me! I don't remember much of them except things like, "Oh, my hot-bottomed baby, what a good soldier she is", and things like that, and kissed my cheeks with his hand deep under my quivering, clenching bottom so that the rolled, moist lips of my slit felt his touch.
It was like whole minutes passed – I don't know how long – then in the most gentlemanly way he eased the hem of my dress down and with that I felt myself actually clinging to him. I felt safer then. I couldn't explain it. Not safe from him or the cane – just safer. He kissed the top of my head. – "Next time will only be three, too –you hear me?", I heard him ask. I sort of moved my head. My thighs were trembling and my bottom was a hot orb. – "Did you hear what I said?", he asked, his voice above me. I gave a nod then. The sensations in my bum were something out of this world.
He was implacable, though – "Tell me what I said", came from him sternly. I had to answer. Obedience came before pleasure, Aunt Sheila had said. – "S..s...s....said you will only give me th...th...three next time", I stammered and my face was blushing deeper than my bottom cheeks. It still wasn't good enough. – "No struggling? Knicks right off next time – of your own accord, like Carole does?". The mention of her name so openly jolted me. – "Yes", I said and my voice was a trembling whisper. – "Look at me, Fiona", he murmured. I bent my head deeper. – "C..c...can't", I stuttered. His hands lay on my shoulders lightly. – "Yes, you can", he said with certainty, "you passed your other tests – now pass this one".
"No!", I wanted to say. I wanted to be stubborn. My head felt like a crane lifting slowly. I gulped. Our eyes were locked. I was straining up on my toes, squeezing my bumcheeks still. It probably sounds daft, but I sort of knew why I'd been caned and yet I didn't. I should have been angry, bewildered, but I wasn't. Like I said, I felt safe – safer. – "After a caning, you always kiss and make up", he said. I said, "Mmmmm....". It sounded like that anyway. Our lips met and held. His hands caressed very gently all around my glowing bum, and I didn't mind.
"They'll know", I said as our mouths parted. – "You do your hair and make-up and you walk downstairs like nothing's happened. You hear me, Fiona?" – "Yes", I replied, and I did.
Anne smiled at me and said, "We're all going out – shopping – in the town – O.K?". I'd gathered myself somehow. – "Yeah, right", I said and loved her and Carole and Aunt Sheila for saying nothing about my caning. Perhaps that was the real beginning. I'd been put through it four times now in three days – first when Aunt Sheila paddled me in the summerhouse, then when Anne and Carole got me over, then the spanking the night before – and now.... Now I'd graduated!
I felt proud. I could feel my bottom cheeks like I never had before, netted tightly and comfortingly in my panties. I was asking myself all sorts of questions about it, though – not avoiding it or regretting it, but in a seeking, curious way. The whole thing floated in my mind while we bought stockings, undies and things. More and more I wanted to ask desperately. Aunt Carole must have realised it, for when we got back she drew me up to the main bedroom and closed the door.
"I love all my girls, you know", she said and kissed me. I made a silly sort of sound, but then I blurted out what I wanted to say, though I didn't know I was going to use the words I did. – "I don't know why I want to be caned", I said and almost began to snivel. – "Fiona, you're a pleasure-baby – or at least, that's what I call it. You're learning to take the sting, and you'll learn to take the pleasure. I've had to school you fairly quickly. I didn't want to, but we've only this week. When you come back again.... You will come back?", she asked almost urgently so that I couldn't help but respond. – "When... when I can", I said shyly. She smiled. – "Oh, I'll fix that, don't worry. Roger will bring you up here tonight again. Only three again. That's O.K?"
I think for a moment I came to. I mean, realising she was so openly talking about her husband like this. Before I could say anything, she added, "I get pleasure out of Roger's pleasure, as I do out of yours. You haven't tasted the tawse yet around your pretty bottom. It's not like the cane at all. You'll prefer it – well, eventually". A little panic rose in me. – "Well, I dunno, I think maybe I ought to....", I began.
"Go?", she interrupted me with a laugh. Like Carole's laugh it was. She waited for me to speak. – "I'll get six – I know I will", I said quickly and without at all meaning to say it. I sounded mournful. – "In a day or two you will, pet. And there's something else – something you haven't even thought of. You won't only receive the cane or the tawse, Fiona. You'll learn to give it. That's why I want you to come back – well, partly."
I really couldn't believe my ears then, and she saw that, taking my hand and sitting beside me on the edge of the bed. "You see, darling", she went on, "we're opening a riding school soon. There'll be many haughty young ladies who will need disciplining in several directions. You could learn to act as a teacher. I want you to". Her tone was quite sharp on that last sentence and her hand enclosed mine. – "I'd... I'd have to give up my job", I said. – "Yes, you will", she answered simply, "You see, Fiona, there's more to it than you think".
"But... but... if we cane them, they'll tell", I said. – "Really? Will you tell? You've not yet had the pleasure you will have tonight, my love. We will school them – more gradually than has been possible with you in the time available, but we will. It's a chore of love. Devotion almost. They'll go home hot-bottomed and come back for more. Their lives will be infinitely less dull than they have been. Oh no, they won't tell – any more than you will after tonight".
I stared at her as she ran a finger over the backs of mine. "You keep saying that", I said, "but he... he... caned me this afternoon and...." – "And you've learned to accept it, yes. You don't even know why, pet. I couldn't explain it to you, though I started out in the same way as you. I hate it and yet I love it. Afterwards, when I've surrendered completely, I know it's right and that it's the way I want it – need it. You've never seen ME when I've been caned. I cry and sob just like you – but then it's beautiful. The way it's going to be for you tonight – or maybe tomorrow. Who knows?"
She meant it deliberately to be a riddle. I couldn't believe that she meant what I thought she meant, but then she hadn't unfolded her philosophy to me, and when she did it was the biggest surprise of all. That didn't come until the end of my stay, however. By then I'd been initiated – in this particular way, I mean. No – it didn't happen that night, although I took my three strokes and had a kiss and cuddle afterwards! The following night, though.... PHEW! I'll tell you about it next month – so don't go away!