Wednesday, 6 July 2011

The Outfit

Story from Uniform Girls 39.

The Outfit

Bathed and perfumed, Vanessa studied herself carefully in her bedroom mirror, turning this way and that self-critically, but unable to suppress a smile at what her reflection showed.

It was four years since she had last worn her Sixth-Form outfit, and her further development since then was shown by the way her bottom more proudly filled-out the short, dark-blue pleated skirt which she had managed with just a little difficulty to clip around her waist. Her old striped tie had been a bit scruffy and she had had to wash and iron it the day before. It looked all right now, lying in the valley between her firm tits whose peaks thrust through the cotton of her blouse.

And that, too, was tight, but she had expected it to be. A few twisty movements and a couple of buttons at least would soon burst. Like they had been made to four summers ago, but that was a blush-making thought, causing her bottom to stir with the reminiscences that returned to her, but which she always tried to blot out.

If she had never told David about that, then she wouldn't be wearing what she so saucily was now. With each twirl, her abbreviated skirt floated above her tightly-rimmed stocking tops. Pale rims of thighs – now plumper than they used to be. Suspender clips. At fifteen she had changed from white socks to nylons. At times they had seemed to her to become an even greater and more bottom-stinging attraction than her spotless socks had been.

At seventeen – so Vanessa could not help remembering now – she had had her first caning. 'Friday nights are caning nights', she had been told, and not all her edging away, her clutching at the hem of her skirt, her hoarsely-whispered pleas had stopped her panties from coming down. Right off even, once. Oh! – and that time... that was what she had told her husband about, soon after their wedding night two months ago.

Eighteen and a half was too young to marry, her mother had said, but Vanessa hadn't listened. And as for David, he had gone on and on at her to put on her old school outfit again.

'You'll cane me', Vanessa had pouted – pouted as she had once used to do. – 'I won't. Don't be silly. We haven't got a cane. I just want to see you in it – how you look. Cute, I imagine. After all, your figure and your height...' – 'Yes, I know', Vanessa had interrupted hurriedly. She had heard the same before... when her outfit had been new. How that could have been an excuse for caning her, she couldn't imagine.

'Well, then...' David had said. He was a bit weak, Vanessa thought. An older man would have simply told her to put it on and not have discussed it. It was that sort of obedience that the cane had taught her; she knew that deep inside herself. David might just spank her, though. After all, it was all so tight and revealing and she had even taken the trouble to go to the local school-outfitters and get a pair of blue knicks into which (truth to tell) she had only just managed to squeeze. The crutch rubbed her as she walked – rubbed and cuddled at the same time.

Perhaps she should put her hair in a bow, too – at the back. There was one somewhere in one of her drawers. Even as she opened it to look, the doorbell rang and Vanessa shot upright and stood very still. Oh god, she couldn't go down to answer the door dressed like this!

Twenty seconds and then it rang again, more persistently, making her squeeze up her eyes as if she didn't even want to see herself. Not knowing who it might be, she waited. The master bedroom faced out on to the rear garden and she daren't creep down and look. Footsteps... faintly going. Phew! Whoever it was had gone and she could free herself from her momentary tenseness. Then with an awful start she heard the back door into the kitchen open and called nervously, 'Who's there?'

'Me, Vanessa', came a deep voice which she recognised, half with relief, as that of David's father, Ralph. Footsteps again – but this time coming up the stairs! – 'No, wait!', Vanessa called desperately, but the sounds did not cease. – 'Why? Aren't you dressed?', he asked and then – a few feet as he by then was from the bedroom door – Vanessa put her hands up to her face like a little girl and gritted out, 'Yes, but...'.

Ralph ignored that. The bedroom door was ajar and he opened it. – 'Why didn't you...?', he began and stopped as Vanessa bit her lower lip and clipped her legs together, standing almost exactly as she used to do on Friday nights. Their eyes met and snagged like thorns before Vanessa dropped her gaze, feeling his attention like an electrical charge all round her curves. But to her amazement he said nothing about her abbreviated and school-girlish attire. – 'I asked you why you didn't open the door, Vanessa, Come here!' he barked. And it was a bark, and the memories quivered in her all anew. Half slouching, she dragged her feet towards him across the deep-pile carpet – wondering why she did and yet knowing why.

'I d...didn't know it was you', she stammered. – 'Which is a poor excuse. General lack of politeness, Vanessa. I have been wondering about you lately, and that's why I came round. You have a broody look about you sometimes, do you not?'

Vanessa hung her head, was silent first, then shook it slowly. – 'If... if I'd known it was I w...would have answered the door'. – 'Dressed like this?' Ralph queried. He had said it at last, and he knew he was going to make her answer. – 'Well...', Vanessa began, but then feeling a strain of silent impatience in him, forced her to say, 'yes'. He was so much older than herself that she knew somehow she had to say it. They demanded it of one: obedience.

His hand touched her hair, making her start a little. It slid down, fondled the back of her neck and then trailed down her back. There was no bra-clips, no straps – and in any case the fulsome thrusting of her jellied tits told him that the blouse was her sole garment above her waist. – 'You almost fibbed then, Vanessa, did you not?' he asked, producing a sudden inward trembling in her and a sense of apprehension.

'Didn't', she mumbled, and then a quick, anxious 'No!' burst from her lips as his hands toyed beneath her skirt-hem at the front and fingers slid around her stocking tops. But at that cry, his hands encompassed the backs of her thighs, gripping the firmly-fleshed columns just below the bulge of her bottom and rammed her body into him so that she uttered a little 'Ah!'.

'What?', Ralph asked sternly. – 'All right, all right, I almost fibbed, but...' — 'There are no buts, Vanessa, and you know it', he answered, gripping her so firmly that despite all her surreptitious efforts and a little wriggling of her hips she was unable to draw the lower part of her body back from his, her tits bulbing into his shirt-front. – 'Oh no, please don't', she murmured all too quickly, the words forming such a confession – coded as they were – that he instinctively knew her meaning.

'But I have to, don't I? And you know I do. I have to do something about your broodiness and your fib'.

'No! No, you don't', Vanessa choked and tried to make it a sobbing sound, but did not quite succeed. And he was moving her now, moving her until her back came against the wall. – 'No, please look. David...', she began with a panicky tremor in her voice, only to be cut off by his sharp response. – 'David will be late tonight, Vanessa. He was going to call you but I told him that I would tell you instead. Very late, and now I have to get you ready for what you need, don't I?'

'Ah, no!' Her cry – her cry again too late. One hand of his had cupped itself beneath the ripe peach of her bottom while the other fondled up her lovelips through her tightly-knickered crotch. – 'Get you ready', Ralph repeated amid the little whining sounds that issued from her lips, 'Somebody has to see to you now, don't they'. – 'St...stop it!', Vanessa whimpered. The easing of his finger, the growing of the moisture beneath which seeped through the blue serge was making her knees wobbly. Pressing her moist palms against the wall, she averted her face from him, blushing and yet not daring any longer to resist.

Slowly, very slowly, her father-in-law brushed aside her dangling tie with his free hand and commenced unsnicking the near-bursting buttons of her blouse one by one, causing Vanessa's fingers to press tighter to the wallpaper and her breath to hiss out. Tugging her top out from within the tight confines of the waistband of her school skirt, he unfastened the last two and let the sides fall away, bringing her tie to hang between her bared tits whose brown nipples showed their prominence.

'I... mer... mer... mer... mustn't' she whimpered, this bringing from him such a stern and demanding 'what?' that Vanessa knew she daren't say it again. It had never been any good, anyway, saying that. His fingers fondled the luscious melons, causing her nipples to tingle.

'I have three things to spank you for now, Vanessa. What are they? quickly, or your bottom will burn even hotter than I mean it to. Look at me when you speak, please!'

Meeting his eyes then – her own slightly glazed, her knees flexing despite herself, Vanessa blurted, 'Because I nearly fibbed and because...' – 'Yes, Vanessa go on'. His forefinger up between her thighs stayed its movements then save for a subtle brushing back and forth of the tip which made her feel just as quivery. – 'Broody – you s...said I was broody, and... oh, I can't think!'

'Can't? But it's easy. What is the opposite of 'must'? Didn't you say the opposite to me just now?' His voice coaxed; his fingertip, moving like a metronome, coaxed. The sticky, liquid seeping through her knicks was too obvious for either to hide their awareness of it. – 'Yes', Vanessa whispered. It was a submissive 'Yes'.

'Good. You have learned; I thought you had. On the bed, my dear with your knickers off. You have precisely thirty seconds to do this or I shall fetch a cane. From my car, yes. I do have a cane. In a way it has been waiting for your bottom, Vanessa, so quickly please – and counting now!'

'Ow!', Vanessa gasped. There was something that told her he was speaking the truth. 'All right, all right!' Her words were as hurried as her actions, wrestling down her school knicks as she had to and clambering up on to the bed, though clamping her thighs together as she flipped her skirt up to reveal her naked bottom to his view.

'Suspenders. I like your suspenders', she heard him say as if they were the only thing he was looking at. Then came such a slap on the backs of her thighs as made her screech and jerk her head up even as he said, 'Legs, Vanessa, legs! We do not keep them close together, do we now?'

Choking back a sob, Vanessa mutinously shifted them apart, but far too gingerly for her father-in-law who – knowing that he had to quell every sign of rebellion in her now – placed his hands on the backs of her bent knees and pulled them apart, producing thereby to his view the appealing fruit of love that nestled underneath her bottom's bulge.

'Fibs. We don't want fibs, do we, Vanessa?' smack! His palm rebounded from her out-thrust globe, bringing a stricken cry from her. 'Nor do we...' – smack! – 'want you to remain in broodiness, Vanessa, eh? Did you speak? Did you?' smack – smack – smack!

'Yah-haaar! Oh no, please, I won't be, I won't be!', she babled while Ralph longed to caress her now hard-nippled tits and feel her honeypot again. Not yet, he told himself, not yet. Laying his open hand against her cleft, he could feel already the heat he had induced, the subtle throbbing underneath the silky skin. – 'What else do we not want, today or in the future, Vanessa? Come, you can remember now'. Splatt-smack!

"Don't, don't – oh don't!', Vanessa sobbed. There were real tears now, the pearls upon her cheeks. She was crying for her yesterdays, he thought, and smack! – he made her supple hips to jolt again. – 'I said, I said... oh, please... I mean, I said mustn't, and I mustn't – ' 'Ah, there's the conundrum you see', he laughed, 'for you must, Vanessa, and you know you must. Naughty girls flaunting their school ties between their tits are often spanked, sometimes for being naughty and sometimes because they are going to... what?'

'Oh-woh!', Vanessa sobbed. She knew what he wanted her to say, and – ah! – oh god, another burning smack that made her bottom feel on fire. 'Be...because they are g...going to be naught-tee!', she blubbered, feeling her salt tears upon her lips.

'Sometimes even before they are caned, yes. Not always, but sometimes. Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes', repeated Ralph and with each smacked hard into her bulbing cheeks bringing a long howling cry from her. One leg kicked back and almost caught his thigh, and then she fell, fell flat upon her tummy, scrabbling with bent fingers at the quilt. Her hips squirmed and her bush rubbed furiously upon the smooth material – then she was still, eyes closed, her breathing soft. At the first new touch of his hand upon her bottom, Vanessa quivered visibly and then was still again, hiding her face, her fingers clenched while lazily his thumb trailed up and down her cleft where the red cheeks inrolled.

'I would like tea now, Vanessa. Remove your skirt, tidy your hair, button up your blouse and come down thus. Five minutes, girl that is all'.

'But D...David!' Such a tearful little cry.

'David will not be home tonight, my dear. You forget that I am his father and his boss. I sent him up to Manchester. He won't be back tonight and you – you naughty girl – have wasted precious seconds. I am going down. I expect you right on time, Vanessa. Hurry, please'.

'Oh-wer!' Her cry followed him but he ignored it. Within another half a minute he heard her scuttling into the bathroom and smiled. The cane was in the kitchen where he had left it when he entered. Marvellous of her to dress like this. Love's play – but there were other ways. He had to make it real for her and would. Those timorous footsteps that he finally heard made him sit down and pick the local evening paper up, not even glancing at her as she hurriedly walked by and vanished with a twinkling of her heated bottom into the kitchen.

Ralph felt even cosier then. Tight black stockings, peaking at the front and back where her suspenders clipped. The blouse that would flare around her waist, the gently-swinging tie. Upon her equally hesitant entry after the kettle had whistled its song, Ralph continued reading that which he did not really care about, looked at her briefly once and said, 'Kneel down before me, Vanessa, while I drink my tea. Hold this'.

'Oh no! But you said...', gasped his young daughter-in-law as she found herself grasping the dreaded cane. Equally awful was the fact that he could look down between her legs and see her crisp triangle there – and did, as if reflectively. Receiving no reply, she asked timidly, 'Aren't you? I mean...'

'Am I going home tonight? No, Vanessa. Stand now, hands behind your back, holding the cane. I may not have to use it, of course'. He placed his cup on a side table by the sofa as he spoke. – 'May not have to – not yet', he said and beckoned her with his hand until once more Vanessa half-blindly shuffled forward and stood with downcast head between his legs. 'Do you think I will have to?', he asked, and Vanessa shook her head dumbly, unable to look straight at him. – 'Well?', he asked sharply. His hands reached behind her, carving the resplendent and still very warm cheeks, feeling and fondling the deeper bulge of flesh beneath.

'D...d...dunno', Vanessa mumbled. She wanted it to be finished with and over. She wanted it never to happen. He held her springy cheeks apart for a moment, causing her to suck in her lower lip, then let them spring together again. Deliberately his hands fell away. To see if she would move. Vanessa did not move. But then words burst from her that she never knew she meant to speak. – 'I know you're going to cane me, I know you are!', she burst wildly and fell to her knees, pressing her cheek upon his thigh as if seeking protection.

'Yes. I have to, don't I', Ralph said quietly and stroked the back of her head, causing her to sob again. He waited and allowed the blubbering, glubbing sounds to die away. 'Have to', he repeated, 'Perhaps now, Vanessa, perhaps now'.

'Oh, no! no! 'Something stark and stiff was pulsing close against her cheek. She did not want to think about it, did not want.

'It doesn't take long. You know it doesn't take long. Up now – come on – up, girl, up!'

Drawn up, Vanessa wanted to cuddle into him. That had worked sometimes – had almost worked, hands stroking her bared, waiting bottom as she stood, head buried in a shoulder and room so quiet.

'If... if I...', she began and stopped. – 'If you what, Vanessa?' But she merely shook her head. She couldn't say it – not to him. Though if he caned her... Oh god, now they were going out – the stairs a mountain that she had to climb, his hand beneath her orb, her every movement mastered as they went.

The bed looked as if it waited for her – but they always did. – 'Take your tie off Vanessa and undo your blouse'. The cane fell from his hand on to the bed, its end a finger pointing in between her legs. Amid the fumbling of her fingers he walked out. The dusk was like a cloud within the room. A lawnmower whirred somewhere; a young child, screaming, had a tantrum, then was quiet.

Vanessa could hear the soft movements in the bathroom. It had never been this way before – had always been more quick before. Hearing the bathroom door open and the padding of his bare feet, Vanessa quickly turned her back though not before she had glimpsed that he was naked, stiffly armed.

'Why I have to cane you, Vanessa. You know why', Ralph said cryptically and admired her naked girlhood as she stood, her fingers slightly clenching as she stood. – 'I asked you', he said slowly as if she had difficulty in comprehending English, 'I asked you if you know why'. Her tie lay crinkled on the floor, her pleated school-skirt, the blue knickers that would still be faintly moist.

'It st...stings me', Vanessa whimpered. In the mirror – she could see him in the mirror, oh so stiff!

'Why you have to be caned – to be caned first. You know why?', he asked her once again and closed the door, picked up the cane and stood again behind her back. The skin there rippled and was still. – 'You have a superb young bottom, Vanessa', Ralph said with deliberation, and then added, 'Bend, please. Bend right over, legs apart'.

'I don't...', began Vanessa all too defensively as she so unwillingly paraded her cleft cheeks up to him again – and then immediately, hooo-wittt!, and 'yah!' she screamed and cupped her buried face. The red streak showed: a thin line full across her offered peach.

'Once again – just once again we'll try, Vanessa, now. You know why I have to cane you first?' – 'Yeh-esss! I do!' – swooo-ish! Her ardent, pleading cry again that bounced from off the walls and fell like a discarded sheet. – 'And tomorrow, Vanessa, when I return again tomorrow afternoon and finding you wearing your school clothes, you will know again then, won't you?' – hooo-wittt!

'Ah, don't! I do know, yes, I do know – honestly!'

'Three more, Vanessa. Stick your bottom out'. And the room was whirling, whirling all around. Her legs apart, her bottom urging out, mind screaming no, and yet... yet afterwards...

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