Friday, 17 June 2011

The Library

Story from Roue 08.

The Library

Jill was an obstinate little spitfire, and she was determined not to give Miss Crawford the satisfaction of a victory that afternoon, even though her bottom was still warm with the spanking her superior had just given her. Jill's buttocks ached and throbbed as she bent over to adjust the untidy bottom shelf of the Geography section.

The books and atlases on her allotted shelves were probably the largest and heaviest in the library. She knew Miss Crawford had picked on her that morning just to weaken her into sneaking off early and risk another spanking the next day. But this time Jill was going to stick it out, till the bitter end – just to show that old fuss pot. But, ooow! Jill was suffering! Her cheeks were sore and those tight little knickers didn't help. It wasn't too bad when she was upright and could stand still for a while, but bending over was agony and crouching was out of the question.

Luckily Diane wasn't using the trolley, so Jill loaded it with the returned books from the desk and saved herself several journeys with the heavy volumes to be replaced in their appropriate places.

Miss Crawford was taking careful note of Jill's intelligent way of working that afternoon, unaware of the girl's real intentions.

It was one of Miss Crawford's few faults, that she would always take the credit for other peoples good points but was never responsible for their bad ones. She was convinced that Jill had learned an important lesson that lunch time and that the girl would certainly strive to improve her untidiness in the future. It had not occurred to Miss Crawford that Jill was scheming up ways to ease her pain that afternoon by using the trolley while Miss Crawford had put it down to intelligent thinking and a more methodical way of working.

Diane the younger of the two girls, was quietly smug about the whole affair. She was busy in the children's section and pretending not to notice the atmosphere between Miss Crawford and Jill. She had been aware of Jill's awkward and slow movements since lunch, but couldn't be absolutely sure that she had had a spanking till Jill got to the atlases on the bottom shelves. As she bent over, Diane caught a quick glimpse of Jill's rosy red thighs and knew for certain Miss Crawford had been up to her old tricks!

Diane had never been sure up till then that Miss Crawford had ever punished the other girls. She only knew the sting her own bottom had suffered at the hands of the Librarian in the past. As this had been Diane's first job, and even then only getting the position as a Junior Library Assistant because her uncle was something on the council, she had suffered greatly for her inexperience and lack of alphabetical knowledge during her first few months.

Jill walked cautiously behind the checking-in desk to relieve Miss Crawford for the teabreak. Her cheeks shuddered fearfully when Miss Crawford passed behind her, then relaxed again when the terrible presence disappeared towards the staff room.

It was uncomfortable to stand still for too long, so Jill busied herself with slow, easy movements, stacking and tidying the books ready for their places back on the shelves. The afternoon seemed extra long that day especially as she was making sure she kept well away from the terrifying Miss Crawford.

Suddenly Miss Crawford was shaken from the peaceful undisturbed atmosphere of the staff room by the most shattering crash from the Library next door. She shot out in her usual abrupt sedate manner, to be faced with the sight of a dozen or so schoolgirls arguing noisily with Diane, who was very red faced and angry.

As Miss Crawford approached the Children's Section she saw a mound of fallen books strewn untidily across the floor.

"You did it – so you pick them up". Diane had her hands on her hips and while not actually shouting, was creating quite a stir in the usually hushed room. Miss Crawford stood back to assess the situation before taking over in her haughty superior way.

As luck would have it, the girls' teacher was there, and appeared from behind one of the shelves, so Miss Crawford made herself scarce and observed the teacher taking charge of the argument. Soon all was quiet again and Miss Crawford retreated back to the Staff Room without having to intervene in the unfortunate situation.

It didn't take her long, however, to realise that this was a good time to give Diane another lesson in discipline and self control. Miss Crawford had suddenly got the urge to punish Diane severely for her unnecessary outburst instead of being mature enough to get her superior to deal with the problem.

Jill had been sensible enough to stay out of the way while Diane was making a fool of herself, but had not missed the appearance of Miss Crawford observing the height of the argument.

"She's not going to let Diane get away with that." She whispered to herself with a smile. "The crafty cow wasn't going to back the poor kid up when she was having a bad time of it, but she'll certainly let her have it on the bum for making such a mess of it" she thought with a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness I wasn't involved."

The teacher marched the girls out with an embarrassed smile towards Jill as she left. Jill smiled back innocently, and beckoned Diane over as soon as the room was empty again.

"Better go and explain to Madam" Jill said smugly.

"Why should I? She doesn't have to know." Diane was still shaking with anger.

"Hmm, that's all you know. I'd go now if I were you." Jill smiled knowingly.

"Well you would know, wouldn't you" the sweat on Diane's forehead was making her fringe quite wet, and a tear trickled out of her eye and rested under her lower eyelid. Jill realised how frightened and upset she was.

"Look, Di, she saw it all, honestly. I wouldn't lie to you. Do yourself a favour and go now."

Diane was trembling. She covered her mouth with her hand and looked very sad.

"Don't cry, not now. You were really very good, but I couldn't get involved. I'm sorry but you really have got to see her, before she gets a chance to cook something up. You know what she's like?"

"Right." She took a deep breath, gave Jill a brave smile and turned towards the Staff Room. "Here goes!"

* * *

Miss Crawford was not at all understanding. Jill's spanking earlier that afternoon had given her a taste for Diane's inevitable punishment. Her fat little bottom was asking to be spanked and Diane could offer no resistance after the upsetting experience she had just had.

Jill soon realised that Diane's prolonged absence meant Miss Crawford was handing out another punishment that day. At least she would be left alone a little longer! When no one was looking, she slipped out to the staff room and peeped through the frosted glass panel to confirm her suspicions that the room was empty. Yes, there was not a sign of any movement inside. That meant they were in the locked store room out the back – and Diane was getting walloped!

And Diane was certainly getting walloped! Her rounded young hips were bent over the chair while Miss Crawford stood over her, blistering the trembling cheeks with powerful, stinging strokes. The cane in the woman's hand shrieked as it swung through the air to land accurately across Diane's frightened naked cheeks. Stripes, red and painful, appeared in regular succession as Miss Crawford's fluent arm action continued the punishing blows. Diane yelped and blubbered endlessly. The whining and moaning irritated Miss Crawford, but she said nothing, hoping the girl would keep quiet and still.

"Oooo – no – no."


The cane struck sharply on the bared flesh and Diane jumped up violently. The cracking cane on her soft chubby buttocks was unbearably stinging and painful. But the fearful anticipation of the whistling as it shot out of the woman's hand before it actually reached her bum was frightening to poor Diane and she reached a point of uncontrollable terror.

Miss Crawford, as yet not wholly satisfied with the incomplete punishment, released her grasp on the girl and laid the cane back on a shelf quietly.

Diane sobbed. She didn't actually get up, but eased herself from the chair, and knelt helplessly on the floor. Her trembling naked cheeks were streaked with the criss-cross of the fiery red cane marks. She regained her senses and wiped the tears from her eyes, still shaking and frightened.

Miss Crawford sat on the chair still warm with the heat from Diane's hot little body which was now trembling quietly next to Miss Crawford's legs. She beckoned coldly towards the girl who obeyed meekly, and laid her soft young body over the woman's lap. Her silky plump cheeks glowed with the marks of the cracking cane and Diane relaxed as Miss Crawford stroked her bottom soothingly.

Her hand caressed the soft fullness of those naked buttocks, glowing and warm, and inviting. She traced out the grooves on the shiny flesh as Diane winced with the shooting pain across her bottom.

The girl's thighs were quite cool in comparison with the heat radiating from the fiery red buttocks, and her skin was very smooth and tempting.


Miss Crawford slapped her thighs with a sharp cracking blow. Diane jumped, but did not make a sound.

Another Crack! and another. Miss Crawford slapped the firm thighs with supreme satisfaction. A soft rosy glow began showing through the silky pink flesh and they bounced and bobbed on her hand with the regular strokes. The gentle young flesh cracked crisply under the woman's firm palm. Miss Crawford sat upright with the girl's warm body jumping to and fro across her steady legs.

Diane's sweet little bottom throbbed, with the naked cheeks glowing brilliantly. Tears filled her eyes as the pain grew throughout the lower part of her body. Miss Crawford's hand struck harder and harder on the girl's fiery thighs then a hard, loud wallop landed squarely on her right buttock, stinging the sore cane marks. Two or three thundering whacks startled the sobbing girl.

"OOW! Oh!"


"No! No! P-p-please."

"Yes, Miss. You've had your punishment. Get up!"

Diane attempted to move away quickly, but was prevented from jumping away from that punishing hand by the soreness in her throbbing, frightened bottom. Still she managed to slip away quite swiftly and into the Staff Room, while Miss Crawford remained in the Store Room until Diane had returned to the Library after allowing her enough time to have a wash and brush up.

The other girls tried not to notice Diane's return, but couldn't resist smiling at each other when she walked back to the Children's Section with such obvious agony.

Miss Crawford came back with a pile of books in her arms.

"Jill." She called. "Get Renee to take over the desk for a while – I've got a job for you."

Jill smiled at the woman as if nothing had happened, and took the books from her, ready for further instructions.

"I want some of these mysteries back on the shelves – there's been a rush on them lately. I expect that new series on the television has got something to do with it."

Jill's spine went cold with the mention of sharing the Stock Room with Miss Crawford again. Her knees felt like jelly and her hot little bottom began throbbing quicker and quite painfully.

"Y-yes M-Miss Crawford."

She put the pile of books on the trolley and followed Miss Crawford towards the dreaded room. She stood at the door waiting, remembering her hasty exit some two hours earlier. She felt quite shaky at the memory and her tight knickers sunk into her quivering fat cheeks.

A big lump grew in her throat! She tried to be brave and stood upright in the doorway, while inside there were butterflies fluttering in her tummy.

Miss Crawford's footsteps echoed eerily on the bare wooden floorboards and Jill shuddered at the thought of her yelps and screams echoing through the half empty room that lunchtime.

"Come on girl" Miss Crawford snapped "Get the trolley – there's a good couple of hours work here."

"Right Oh!" She breathed a sigh of relief.

As Jill walked back into the Library for the trolley, the other girls looked up in surprise. They had congregated round the desk, with Diane in the centre describing her recent painful ordeal.

They dispersed quickly back to their places, just in case Miss Crawford appeared unexpectedly.

Jill smirked at them, 'Hmm' she thought 'they thought I was lured into the store room under false pretences!' That indignant feeling returned as she wheeled the trolley briskly towards the room.

Her quick movements didn't do her smarting bottom a lot of good and she was forced to slow her pace down considerably by the time she reached the Staff Room.

Miss Crawford was standing threateningly in the doorway, but Jill tried to stay brave. A sharp slap cracked across her swollen buttocks as she neared the woman.

"There's a good girl" Miss Crawford pointed towards the two back shelves "Just sort them and get them out the front. Before five please."

Miss Crawford hesitated for a second, giving the girl an uncomfortable feeling in her soft frightened bottom, and then left her with the bitter sweet memories of that fateful room.

Thursday, 16 June 2011

The Fresh Lieutenant

Story from Janus 45.

The Fresh Lieutenant
by Andrew Grantham

THE HALF-DOZEN CLERKS in the Company's HQ office could hardly believe their eyes. They stood rigidly to attention as Major Sounders introduced their new officer to them, twirling one end of his red moustache as he did so.

'This is Lieutenant Ashcroft,' he intoned. 'I'm sure you didn't expect a WRAC officer taking over, however...'

Lance Corporal Neil Weston didn't listen to what the Major was saying. He stood behind his desk, soaking up the sight of the very delectable lieutenant who had just been posted in. To think that he had been on the point of applying for a discharge. Not now. He'd stay with the colours for at least a little while longer.

Lieutenant Ashcroft stood at ease, smiling at the men who were to be under her command. She was on the tall side, not slim but with just the right amount of flesh on what seemed to be a perfect bone structure. Long, smooth legs disappeared under her green skirt. Tightly encased breasts pushed provocatively at the tunic of her uniform. Her eyes were blue and alert. Shining blonde hair was tucked neatly into her service cap.

'I'm very pleased to meet you. I'm sure we'll all get on well together,' the WRAC officer said when the Major at last finished his long-winded introduction. The whole time he had been speaking he had been tapping his leg with his swagger stick. It had made Neil smile to himself. Very adept at swinging a stick was the Major.

Lieutenant Ashcroft settled herself in and to the young soldier clerks she became a goddess.

'I'll bet all the officers in the Mess are sniffing round after her,' the Corporal remarked to Neil.

'No doubt,' sighed Neil. 'The gorgeous Lieutenant is obviously out of our league.' He smiled. 'Still. There's always good old Rosie in the NAAFI.'

Rosie was a very obliging girl and she could take a bit of stick. Indeed, she very much enjoyed taking a bit of stick. And Neil enjoyed giving it to her!

Halfway through the first week the WRAC officer, in shirt-sleeve order, came out into the general office and asked for a batch of new pay books.

Eager to please, Neil shot to his feet and opened the doors of a big metal cupboard. Too late, he realised! The inside of the door bore his collection of colour pages taken from his favourite CP magazine. There, in all their naked glory were excellent striped bottoms, wealed bums and blazing backsides.

'Oh... er... s-sorry ma'am,' stammered Neil, quickly closing the door with a resounding clang. 'I'll take them down,' he offered.

The young officer cleared her throat and licked her lips. She looked at Neil and their eyes flashed messages to each other. 'It doesn't matter,' she said softly. 'Don't mind me.'

She turned on her heel and went back to her office. Neil watched how her arse shifted from side to side with each step she took. He was unaware of the ribbing from his colleagues as he stroked his chin and pondered. Was she a submissive? What a mind-boggling, mind-blowing thought. He sighed wistfully. Even if she was, there was no way a lowly Lance Corporal was going to get at her arse. Major Saunders had probably slapped an 'out of bounds to junior ranks' label on it already!

That same night, Neil was doing a stint as Duty Clerk when into the office came none other than the Lieutenant herself. He started to get to his feet but she motioned him to stay seated. To his surprise, she sat on the edge of his desk. Neil found her close proximity sensual and stimulating. But what was she up to?

'It's about those photos in the cupboard,' she began.

Neil gazed into her blue eyes, completely besotted by the young woman. 'If they offend you, I'll remove them right away,' he offered, starting to get up.

'No. It's all right.' Her soft, warm hand closed around his and the touch of her sent a tremor through his body.

She looked around her to make sure they were on their own. 'Are you into that kind of thing?' she asked huskily. 'Canings and spankings and things like that?'

'Yes. I am actually,' he smiled. 'It isn't against Queen's Regulations, is it?'

She smiled and her teeth were a crescent of white against the red of her lips. 'I don't honestly know,' she admitted.

Her smile faded and her beautiful face became serious. Neil's eyes narrowed. He had noted the rise and fall of her bosom and the slight flaring of her nostrils.

'If I tell you something in confidence,' she said in a half whisper, 'will you keep it to yourself?'

'I've signed the Official Secrets Act,' smiled Neil, his heart thumping. He somehow knew what that confidence was going to be.

Her shapely legs began to swing gently and she kept her head down, avoiding his gaze as she continued speaking.

'I'm into it myself,' she revealed.

Neil's heart performed a somersault.

Lieutenant Ashcroft smoothed out imaginary creases in her uniform skirt. 'Receiving it that is, rather than giving it,' she added softly. She raised her head and looked directly at him. 'Would you be... er... willing to perform the honours for me some time?' she smiled shyly.

Would he? Neil thought for a moment that he must be dreaming and that he would wake up – probably in the guardroom or in the glasshouse!

'You... you... mean...?' he stammered, unable to complete the sentence.

The officer raised her eyebrows. 'Just because I have pips on my shoulders,' she grinned, pointing to her badges of rank, 'doesn't mean I don't like getting strips on my bottom! Officers are only human, you know.'

Neil was on the point of saying that he knew some who weren't, the Major for instance, but he wisely refrained.

'I'm trained to take orders,' he replied instead.

She slid gracefully off the desk. Neil's eyes were naturally drawn to the contours of her behind. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined that anyone so gorgeous could possibly offer her bottom to him. The euphoria melted however, when a new thought crowded into his head.

'Hang on a minute ma'am,' he said, wanting to reach out and touch her, yet finding the caste barrier holding him back. After all, she was an officer. 'I share a room with a couple of other blokes and there's no way I can get into the Officers' Mess.'

She flashed him a smile that caused his knees to tremble. 'Don't worry about that,' she assured him. 'I'm moving out of the Mess on Friday. I've rented a house in the village.'

'That's okay then,' Neil heard himself saying.

She wrote down the address on a piece of paper. Still in somewhat of a daze, he took it from her, their hands touching momentarily. Again, the electric shock went through him.

After she had gone, Neil stared at the piece of paper for ages. She had even written down the time she wanted him to call – Saturday, eight o'clock.

Gradually Neil began to come to. He was in high spirits, despite his stint of extra duty. He smiled as he imagined the reaction of the Major if he ever found out that the Office Commander was getting her arse 'seen to' by a humble Lance Corporal subordinate!

Lieutenant Ashcroft totally ignored Neil the following day, save for one incident when she criticised a minor detail of his work in front of others. Nobody could ever have guessed what the unlikely couple had planned for eight o'clock on the Saturday night.

The last chime of the village church clock was fading away as Neil somewhat nervously 'pinged' the bell of a small stone house which still had a 'To Let' sign in the garden. He had a lingering fear that the Major himself would open the door and give him a dressing-down about fraternising with the officers or something.

He needn't have worried. Lieutenant Ashcroft herself opened the door and with a gleaming smile bade him welcome.

She was wearing a short-sleeved, gossamy dress which clung to all the promises beneath. Her lightly tanned legs were bare and her feet were neatly tucked into red leather high-heeled shoes. Bra-less nipples jiggled about beneath the filmy covering of the dress.

She turned around and Neil followed the sweetly-bottomed creature into the living room.

'Call me Susan please, Neil,' she asked him, pointing towards the settee. 'At least, while I'm not in uniform.'

The young soldier sank down into the settee. Susan parked her lovely bottom on the padded arm and crossed one elegant leg over the other.

'You haven't got to rush away, have you?' she asked.

'No,' he said, swallowing hard. 'I'm at your service for as long as you want.'

'Super,' she sighed. 'We can take our time. I must say, it's awfully good of you to give up your Saturday night for me.'

Neil politely told her to think nothing of it.

They had a few drinks and got to know each other a lot better. Susan's father had been a regular soldier which meant that she had attended a number of boarding schools both at home and abroad. It was probably in those establishments that she had become addicted to corporal punishment.

'I was quite naughty when I was younger,' she confessed with an enchanting giggle.

It relaxed Neil and he felt as though the invisible barrier between them had been lifted.

'I was forever getting the cane,' she recalled. 'Of course I hated it at first, but once I sort of transcended the pain threshold, I got to like it.' Her fine, golden eyebrows lifted. 'Then I used to make sure I always got whacked by the male teachers,' she added with a grin.

Neil ran a hand over the soft down on her arm. She liked it. Susan Ashcroft was a very sensual creature. It was also clear to Neil that she was still somewhat lonely in her new posting.

'I didn't bring a cane with me,' the soldier said after a while. 'Have you got one?'

Neil knew that practically every garden and greenhouse in the village could supply a cane if need be so he was sure he could always obtain one by stealth if necessary. He didn't have to, however – Susan produced a thin cane from a drawer in a Welsh dresser.

'This is one of my favourites,' she told him proudly, handing it over. 'It stings like mad.'

Neil took it from her, wondering just who had used it before on her willing backside. The feel of the cane in his hands gave him a sensation of power over the girl – a complete reversal in fact of their normal everyday roles in life. And the reality, coming after so much fantasy, thrilled him to a quite fantastic degree.

'We'd better get started then,' he said to her, making himself sound nonchalant and swishing the cane through the air to get the feel of it.

Susan lowered her head and with noticeably trembling fingers she began to unfasten the thin button-through dress.

Neil closed the heavy velvet curtains and switched on all the lights. Then he dragged a small-backed dining chair across the carpet into the centre of the room.

The blonde stepped out of her dress, a vision of loveliness as she stood to attention proudly thrusting forward her lemon-shaped breasts.

Neil walked slowly around her fresh, young body like a Sergeant Major inspecting his squad, with the cane tucked under his arm. The girl was surely a gift from heaven.

'I'll let your hair down,' he said softly. Then he reached up and took out the clips. Her golden hair cascaded down over her shoulders.

The young soldier continued his inspection of the upper half of her body. Her breasts were unbelievably delicate with shadowy blue veins barely visible beneath the pale flesh. Of course, he couldn't resist touching them. Susan closed her eyes and ran the tip of her tongue across her upper lip as her nipples rigidified under his touch.

Not a word passed between the young couple as Susan stood to attention whilst Neil continued with the inspection of the delectable young woman who was completely at his disposal.

Her skimpy, silken panties slid down her legs as Neil gently eased the elastic away from her flesh. The tiny scrap of material became entangled in her feet. Neil permitted his hand to touch her bushy groin before walking around her to observe his target area.

Susan's apple-round bottom was perfection itself – resilient, deep-clefted and just inviting the attention of anyone who delighted in using a cane or a strap or whatever. Its beauty was simply breathtaking.

Although she didn't say anything, it was obvious from the change in Susan's breathing and the way she rocked on her feet that she was both aroused by this preliminary and desperately anxious for him to start work on her. Neil kept her waiting as he circled her several times. Her body twitched as he ran the length of the cane over her breasts, across her waist and over the very smooth silky skin of her bottom. He was very much in command of the situation. Susan would not move until she got his order.

Eventually, he gave it in a crisp, clear, authoritative tone. 'Lean over the back of the chair, Susan. Your hands on the seat and your bottom well up in the air!'

Her superb form seemed to float across the carpet until she came to the chair. She took a deep breath, bent forward and positioned herself perfectly. The young officer was obviously well used to having her backside scored and scorched. She had admitted to him that it had become a craving.

Neil himself took a deep breath before he raised the cane in the air. Laying into Rosie's backside wouldn't be the same again.

Down swept the lithe rod and it seemed to be glued to the centre of her buttocks before it sprang back. Neil would not have liked to be on the receiving end of that himself!

'Aaaaaahh!' The sound from Susan's lips wasn't a sound of agony. It was a sound of pleasure.

The cane left its bright red mark behind. Neil aimed so that the next stripe would be about half an inch below it. It was. Susan's body jerked and quivered. Her well-moulded legs parted slightly.

'You're good,' breathed the blonde. 'You're hurting me already.'

'It's the way you want it, isn't it?' asked Neil softly.

'Oh yes please,' she sighed. 'Just keep on hurting me.'

The rod swished down again – lower this time to land with a crack just above the top of the finest pair of thighs Neil had ever seen.

'Oooh!' responded Susan. She was now coming alive with the impact of the cane. The blood in her veins had been replaced by a liquid fire that was being pumped from the cauldron of her bottom.

As far as Neil was concerned, it was a sheer delight to punish her. For Susan it was pleasure and not punishment as her pain-drenched body continued to soak up everything that Neil could give it.

The soldier didn't spare her. Every stroke was powerful, well-delivered and carefully placed.

Susan's bottom was hungry and it rose up to greet each stroke before devouring it greedily.

'Aaaagh!' she groaned.

'Oh!oh!oh!' she panted.

'EEEEkkkk!' she squealed, shaking her head from side to side so that her silky golden hair swayed in a constant movement.

The sting of the light, whippy cane she herself had chosen sent nerve-tingling sensations thorough every fibre of her body.

Each high-pitched swish of the cane resulted in a cry and a wriggle whilst her feet beat a tattoo on the patterned carpet.

Neil began to perspire with his exertions. Susan's buttocks became a complete mass of fiery, criss-crossing weals. 'Perhaps you've had enough now?' he suggested.

The girl's answer was an emphatic shake of her golden head. She parted her legs even more and poked her bum even higher to display herself quite lewdly.

Neil smiled. She was a girl in a million and he was the luckiest man in the whole of the British Army.

Her bottom winced in anguished anticipation as Neil prepared for the next stroke. Inevitably, it whipped across earlier scarlet weals. Susan's cry was hoarse and her knees sagged to hit the back of the chair.

'I'm only going to give you one more,' he told her. He had given about all he could.

The well-used wand bit into her ravaged arse for the last time. Its mark was immediately lost amongst all the others.

'Oh... ee... oh... agh!' she yelled out as she jerked upright. Her body shuddered and she sank slowly to her knees with her face resting on the back of the chair.

Neil, his mouth and lips bone dry, put down the cane and went to her.

'I'm okay,' she panted. 'Just give me half a minute.'

It was less than 30 seconds however before she got up.

'Gosh!' she breathed. 'You can certainly give it to a girl.'

Susan pressed herself to him. Her nipples were erect and hard like pencil erasers and her mouth was wet and warm.

Afterwards they lay beside each other listening to each other's heart-beats. Her long lashes rested on her cheeks when her eyes were closed.

Susan moved and her warm, soft, lovely body demanded his attention again.

'I wonder if we can be court-martialled for what we're going?' she giggled.

* * *

Susan did not betray the fact of their close relationship when normal duties resumed after the weekend. Neil wonder when the next session would take place. The sooner the better of course, but he knew that her stripes would take some time to mend. Nobody looking at the smart, exceptionally attractive young WRAC officer would ever guess what state her bottom was in.

The young soldier never imagined for one moment that Lieutenant Ashcroft would order him to take part in an exercise! One of the 'perks' of being a military clerk was being able to 'wangle' oneself out of irksome and demanding chores. He marched in to see her to complain,

He knew it was a mistake right away. Susan Ashcroft had been his plaything at the weekend but now Lieutenant Ashcroft was very much the army officer. 'There's much more to being a soldier than pushing a pen, Lance Corporal Weston,' she said icily.

The only thing that cheered him up as he crouched in his foxhole eating his 'K' rations was the thought that he might once again savour the delights of his officer's magnificent posteriors.

To make matters worse Major Saunders started to throw his weight around, presumably trying to impress his new Lieutenant. One of his targets was Neil and the soldier clerk had to bite his tongue several times, not wishing to be put on a charge for insolence.

About ten days after the sound thrashing he had administered, Neil invited himself back to Susan's rented house.

'Come in,' she said cheerfully, looking deliciously attractive in a baggy grey sweater and tight faded blue jeans. Her hair was loose though well-brushed, and it swung as she walked.

On his only previous visit to her house, Susan had been crying out for the cane. This time was different however. Over a couple of drinks she politely made it clear that her bottom was out of bounds to him. Maybe next time.

Neil was not so easily put off. He had already had a few beers in the village pub and the whisky on top of what he had previously drunk made him throw caution to the winds.

'I'm going to smack your bottom Susan, you naughty girl,' he grinned, advancing to sit beside her on the settee. 'I'm going to get my own back for that exercise!'

'No. Please don't!' begged Susan, sensing the force of his intention.

'I'm not taking no for an answer,' he said sternly. 'Come here.'

With that he made a grab for the blonde and despite her protestations, he soon had her across his knee. Her shapely legs, which completely filled out the denim of her jeans, flailed wildly until he trapped them between his own legs.

Susan continually pleaded with him to let her go, but Neil was determined to scorch her pretty bottom with the palm of his hand. He worked his fingers round to the front of her jeans, undid the button and lowered the zipper with a harsh, rasping noise. He tugged away the denim jeans and her cotton panties both together as the girl, resigned to the inevitable, ceased her struggling.

Neil was totally unprepared for what he saw.

'Good God!' he exclaimed.

Ridged weals desecrated her splendid backside and it was obvious they hadn't been there all that long.

'No wonder you weren't keen to show off your arse,' he said grimly.

He traced his forefinger along all the convex ridges causing Susan to wince. 'Those aren't self-inflicted,' he remarked. 'I'll bet I know who did it. Was it the Major?'

'Yes,' Susan replied weakly.

'Damn the man!' exclaimed Neil. 'I'm beginning to hate him. I had Rosie's arse all to myself until he found out. Now he's got you as well!'

Susan twisted her head to look at the soldier and she brushed some stray hair away from one eye.

'Be fair, Neil,' she implored. 'I didn't give you sole caning rights, you know.'

Neil's lips set in a grim line. Susan's backside belonged to her right enough and she could let whoever she liked loose on it. All the same he was very upset that he was sharing the honours with someone else. The fact that it was the Major made it even worse.

'I can't very well smack your bottom in the state it's in,' he told her, his lips curling into a grin. 'I'll just have to be satisfied with your thighs instead.'

Susan's mouth opened but no sound came from it – not until Neil slapped his open hand against the side of her thigh.


His hand cracked down onto the back of the other thigh.

'Ooh!' gasped Susan. She looked at him. Her blue eyes, cloudy before, were now wide and shining as she soaked up slap after slap.

Soon the backs of both thighs were a burning red. She gasped as her flesh stung and then smouldered.

'I've never taken as much as this in one day before,' she breathed harshly.

Neil's arm began to tire and the rain of blows slowly petered out. The coup de grace however was a full-blooded smack across the already beaten crown of her bottom.


The blonde seemed to rise up in the air with the effect of the final slap. Her head thrashed from side to side and her body went rigid as the white heat of fierce pain engulfed her. The flame reached its peak, died down and her body became limp.

* * *

It was a couple of weeks later before Neil got the chance to visit Susan again. She submitted to his visual and physical inspection and obediently bent her graceful body over the back of the chair.

Neil took careful aim at the masterpiece of sculpting that was her backside.



Susan uttered an orgasmic-like groan as the pain began to spread. It took a dozen strokes to make her cry out however.

Neil smiled as he lifted the agony-laden rod and watched her body indulging in a writhing dance.

He had Susan all to himself. Major Sounders had left for the Falklands that very morning. He had left without knowing that his application for a posting to the South Atlantic outpost had been filled in by Neil. It had been so easy. After all, he had forged the Major's signature on the multitude of forms on which the Army thrived when the senior officer had been too occupied otherwise to do so himself. Battalion headquarters liked nothing better than a volunteer and the application was speedily processed.

Neil's favourite officer inhaled urgently, placed her feet further apart and volunteered her bottom for more. Much more!

Wednesday, 15 June 2011

The Medical Room

Story from old Blushes.

The Medical Room

It is getting chilly in the corridor, now that the sun has gone down, and the four girls waiting outside the medical room are not dressed so much for warmth as for — to be frank — accessibility. They are in their night clothes — the clock on the bell tower across the quadrangle is creeping towards nine o'clock and bed-time during the week is nine-thirty — and whoever it was who decided that the girls' nightwear should be so skimpy, plainly had other considerations in his mind beside thermal insulation or modesty. Each girl wears a top which is actually a short sleeved tunic — so short that it doesn't reach quite to her waist, nor to the top of her 'bottoms', which are themselves cut no more generously that the average pair of school knickers, and are made less conducive to decency by the little slits which run up the outer seams for two inches or so at the thigh. The whole being made of cotton, and lightweight material at that, there is little underneath each thin pair of pants that doesn't lend every detail of its form to the exterior appearance of what are really very brief 'shorts'. So far as the girls 'tops' are concerned, breasts are less concealed than emphasised, and in the chill air in the corridor there isn't a nipple amongst them that isn't doing it's erect, impudent little best to draw attention to itself by thrusting at the thin cotton from underneath.

The girls' quiet chatter ceases at the approach of a portly figure, balding and in his late fifties, who rounds the angle of the long passageway and walks with a faintly rolling gait towards the silent group.

"Good evening, girls" says the newcomer, intoning the words with a hint of bored dutifulness that is belied by the twinkle in the gentleman's eyes and the rather intimate glance which flits undisguisedly across bottoms and breasts as the girls are ushered through the door into the antiseptic-smelling ante-room.

The gentleman, vaguely 'man-of-the-cloth' in his manner and his dress, opens an inner door and then unlocks a medicine cabinet high on one wall. He takes down a jar labelled 'vitamins' and places it on a table. He looks up at the first girl in the line and gestures her into the room with a smile that, though broad enough is not altogether convincing.

The girl closes the door behind her and the gentleman takes a file card from a drawer and writes the first 'patient's' name upon it. "Annabel". He has no need to ask her name — she and her three companions have been nightly visitors to this room for the last month, since term began.

"Scales, please," says the man.

At a generous estimate, the girl's night clothes would weigh somewhere between six and eight ounces, and would be inconsequential in the matter of ascertaining her body-weight. Nevertheless — and she does it without being told to, as though it's what she always does — she slips off first the little pants and then the top before stepped up onto the scales, barefoot. Her cheeks are a pink flush of embarrassment, and her eyes do not look at the gentleman as he leans close behind her to peer over her shoulder at the dial on the machine. The firmness of her bottom, cupped in a hand, is alive to the touch. She draws her breath a little as inquisitive, insensitive fingers trace around the undercurves of her bottom, close-grouped cane weals still faintly warm to the fingertips, the chaplain's voice next to her ear:

"Still feel it, eh? Bottom still tender, is it?"

"S-sir — yes, sir." The slight droop of her head and the soft pout of her lip as she answers are endearing if not downright arousing.

Aroused, the chaplain coaxes further confessions from the shamed girl, his voice sibilant and teasing.

"Hurt, did it? Sting your little bottom, eh?"

"Yes sir." Her voice a whisper.

"You cried, you know. I suppose you remember crying, don't you, hmm?"

"Yes sir" Barely audible.

"And you wriggled. The headmaster made you wriggle this time, didn't he, eh?"

She nods mutely, embarrassed, nervous of the hand that loiters around the cheekiness of her buttocks and slaps lightly but inconsiderately and awakens a vague tingling where the cane had been busy that afternoon. A tear rolls down a cheek, others follow, as she wonders ruefully what she could have done to deserve so many punishments — seven canings, and she's been at the school only four weeks — and every one of them for trifling mistakes, reported to the Headmaster by this dreadful man, and each caning witnessed by him too, as though it were a conspiracy of some kind between them. She, and the girls waiting outside, have had more punishments than any other girls in the school, far more — the recollection of this afternoon's caning, the humiliation of being stretched out over that desk, knickers round her knees, squirming on her belly, blubbering for it to stop, please, please — the memory of it brings the tears faster, hot on her cheeks, running down her face. If there were someone at home she could write to, who would lend a sympathetic ear — but there's no-one, only her guardian, and he doesn't give a damn about her.

The chaplain pats Annabel's bottom and goes to the table, where he notes her weight on the file card. Eight stones and three pounds; a healthy weight for a girl of her height and age. She remains on the scales, naked, bottom and cane-marks unavoidably on display, and she no longer tries to work it out, because it is totally beyond her.

The sound of a jar being opened.

"Come here, Annabel."

Breasts bobbing, hands hiding the triangle of hair at the base of her belly, face flushed with shame at being seen like this by this man, night after night, she goes to stand by the table and waits to be given her "vitamin" pill.

Why she has to take vitamins is something else that Annabel cannot understand. She, and the other three girls, are the only ones in the school said to be 'in need of building up.' The meticulous ritual of taking their pills is as odd as the mere fact that any of them should be thought to need them. Four healthier, more well-proportioned sixteen and seventeen year olds it would be hard to find.

Annabel opens her mouth and a small, pink tablet is popped in. She swallows it, then is made to open her mouth again to demonstrate that it has indeed gone where it was intended to go. A note is made on her file card.

"Get dressed."

It takes but a moment to slip into the skimpy pyjamas. Tits swelling under the top, pants tight around her hips, Annabel waits to be dismissed.

The chaplain looks directly into her face so that she has to glance away. The blush creeps back into her cheeks and she shuffles her feet nervously.

"I understand from the choirmaster that you were two minutes late for practise at lunchtime. Is that correct?"

She stumbles over her protest that she couldn't help it — that she'd had to wait behind in Mr Flood's class —

"I can't help that. Headmaster's report tomorrow, afternoon break. Understood?"

"S-sir — please sir —"

She subsides hopelessly, and nods to say that she understands.

"Very well, you may go."

With the room to himself, the chaplain checks back through the days and weeks on the file card. A month and five days. He grins slowly, thinking of Annabel and her poor, punished bottom, and how much she seems to loathe her canings. Another week of 'vitamins' and they should all be 'safe'. He wonders how Annabel will take it when she finds that, for the first time, she has an alternative — get her knickers down and get over the Headmaster's desk, or simply get her knickers down. He's pretty sure which option she'll plump for. He decides that tomorrow's caning will have to be a little bit special, just to make certain. The Old Man will be happy to oblige, of course. He smiles one of his self-satisfied smiles, and opens the door to the girl next in line for her 'vitamins'.

Tuesday, 14 June 2011

Further Education

Story from Februs 25.

Further Education
by Darren Young

Ben looked around the room, a full house tonight. He enjoyed this weekly evening class, or should that he appreciated? Verbs, verbs, everywhere but never the right one. OK, 'Contemporary Literature and Society' was a pretentious title but the tutor, a 'serious' novelist, had a light touch and an amusing style of presentation.

His fellow students were the usual mixed bunch. Would-be writers in the main, anxiously analysing the work of already published authors, concentrating assiduously, taking things very seriously.

Others were more laid back, simply glad of a break from the kids or a chance to make new friends. They'd nothing to prove, future Booker prize juries could relax.

And which category do I fall in? mused Ben. Piles of books around his flat revealed a genuine interest in the subject but if he was honest – one of his better traits – he wouldn't be adverse to a brief encounter either.

For some reason the only other two males in the class had dropped out in the early stages, leaving Ben the sole remaining representative of his gender. Anxious not to dominate conversation, he'd opted for a low profile. I'm a newish man after all, he'd reasoned.

A couple of female students flashed smiles. Social interaction had progressed to the friendly chat in the canteen stage; polite opinions swopped, jokes benignly smiled at. Could this week's subject: Sex in Modern Writing – Erotica or Pornography? possibly be why so many souls had turned out on a wet April night? True, romantic fiction had also got a good crowd but he'd a feeling his cynicism was well founded.

'Hi Ben,' a warm familiar voice jolted him from his reverie and a smiling young woman drew up an adjacent chair. Ben beamed backed a greeting but had no time to talk before the lecture began.

As the tutor launched into a brief preamble, read a couple of college notices, distributed a booklist, Ben stole a series of furtive glances at his immediate companion; just to practise the character sketch techniques they'd learned last term.

Nicola was her name. Quiet, but certainly not shy. Friendly, if a little guarded. A responder rather than an initiator. Green eyes, red hair, mid-twenties, around five foot four with a slim, shapely figure. Face it, he fancied her.

Her voice jolted the daydream believer back to reality. 'It's warm in here,' she whispered shrugging off her blouson jacket. The jumper beneath emphasised a slender waist and small, high breasts.

Flicking back her shoulder-length curls, suddenly aware of Ben's gaze, she smiled affectionately then rummaged in her bag for a pair of round, steel-framed spectacles: 'I'd better put these on, don't want to miss anything.' Ben was still absorbing the implications of that remark when the tutor introduced the guest speaker.

Louise Lasalle was in her early forties, extremely good looking, confident and clearly well-educated. Resembling a successful business woman rather than any stereotype of a writer she was elegantly and expensively dressed.

She began her discourse with some historical examples of erotic writing – Chaucer, Shakespeare, the Decameron, before moving on to practical tips: how to handle commissioning editors, which of the various permutations of acceptable subject matter an aspirant author might consider. The first half of the session passed both quickly and divertingly, ending with a promise from Louise to throw the forum open for questions and discussion after the break.

'There's nothing new under the sun,' said Ben to Nicola as he fetched her a coffee. Without intending to he'd reached the canteen first where, to his surprise and pleasure, she'd made a beeline across the room to join him. 'They certainly weren't short of inhibitions in the past,' she agreed, 'but it's the second half, the more contemporary stuff, I'm looking forward to, I think we'll find things get a bit more controversial.'

Her guess proved correct. Louise was explaining the increase in erotic stories for women – on sale in a high street near you – when the argument started.

With a mixture of cowardice and prudence Ben, as token male, kept his head down and his own counsel while barbed words flew about his ears.

An especially tetchy teacher named Angela Dwight took the line that such paperbacks were just another way for men to make money from women.

'As a writer and a woman,' Louise pointed out gently, 'I feel far from exploited.'

'We shouldn't be allowing them on the bookshelves,' cut in Angela, who despite her education clearly hadn't absorbed the difference between aggression and assertion, 'erotica, pornography it makes no difference, people must be protected.'

'And look what strange bedfellows you end up with,' replied Louise sagely. 'Religious fanatics, right-wing bigots, anti-abortionists, people that love to proscribe. You say you're a feminist Angela,' she continued, 'did it ever occur to you that the self-appointed moralists you seen so anxious to court are the same people that want to deny women any choices at all?'

'That's true,' said a nearby voice arid Ben turned around to see Nicola on her feet. 'I've bought and enjoyed some of these books, I don't need your protection.'

'Like Louise's spanking stories I suppose,' sneered Angela sarcastically. 'Women being beaten or bound, what a wonderful use of our new found freedom of expression.' Nicola reddened but stood her ground. However it was Louise, still calm and in authority, who answered:

'You're twisting the argument again, Angela. You just can't seem to appreciate the difference between fantasy and reality. A lot of my readers are every bit as professionally and personally powerful and successful as you. If they want to act out a submissive fantasy with a trusted partner it doesn't make then servile, subjugated or second class. Simply it's a matter of being honest about one's sexuality. By writing our own erotica we make our own choices.'

The controversy was still raging when the session finally overran.

Ben was intrigued, and not just by the debate, although it'd been instructive to see women arguing in favour of one of his favourite fantasies. He'd also gained an insight as to where Nicola was coming from, and it was somewhere he'd very much like to go. Now or never, he thought as they filed out of the building.

Nicola stood in the corridor, chatting to Louise. 'Fancy a drink?' he asked. He'd intended the question for her alone but 15 minutes later the three of them were ensconced in the saloon bar of the Swan.

'Did you enjoy reading my books?' Louise enquired innocently. Her enquiry had been directed at Nicola. 'Yes,' they unintentionally answered at the same time, then giggled self-consciously at the revelation.

'Well, my stories usually feature a good deal of CP', Louise began; 'And sex,' Nicola interrupted. 'Of course,' Louise continued with a twinkle, 'but I'm interested in means as well as ends. Tell me,' she continued, 'is your interest in spanking purely literary, or have you ever indulged?'

The two younger people exchanged glances. 'No, not yet,' replied Nicola, 'but the idea sends shivers down my spine, in the right situation with the right person, I believe I would.' Impressed by the courage of this intimate disclosure Ben decided to follow suit. Somehow it felt easier to reveal such a long-held desire to a woman: 'I'd love to have a relationship in which I could be masterful, of course we'd be equal in every other respect,' he added hastily, 'if I could just find a submissive partner.'

'If you'll forgive me flaunting my age and experience I suggest you've found each other,' replied Louise. Ben suddenly became aware that Nicola was now sitting very close to him; unprompted she held his hand.

"Let's not prevaricate,' continued Louise, smiling at this overt conformation of her intuition. 'You must both come to dinner this Saturday; perhaps we can provide food for thought as well. A personal tutorial for two special students.'

'A masterclass,' responded Ben with a grin. 'Exactly,' confirmed Louise, 'between then and now I suggest you both read some of my stories, absorb the mood, study the characters and dress for the occasion. Oh, and you might like to bring some decent wine; Italian white would be good.'

'We'll be there,' said Nicola earnestly and Ben realised that she'd made the decision for them both.

* * *

Three days later the dinner party was going marvellously. Ben felt calm and at case. He'd an anxious moment earlier in the evening when Nicola had been nearly 15 minutes late at the station. Finally she'd arrived, in no apparent rush and looking ravishing, to greet him with a far from sisterly kiss.

Louise and Phil, her partner, owned a large Victorian house in a pleasant north London suburb, decorated inside with taste, flair and an eclectic selection of art.

Ben quickly observed a difference in Louise's demeanour, noticeably more subdued than at their previous meeting. Phil cooked while she welcomed and entertained yet, despite this apparent role reversal, within these walls a man was clearly in charge.

Just as Louise's appearance belied her occupation so too did Phil's. Tall and solidly-built with a Yorkshire accent and that county's celebrated directness he turned out to be an English professor at a nearby University. Adept at getting his initially somewhat over-awed guests to talk freely he proved an informed and witty host, able, without apparent effort or command, to subtly direct the evening's events.

The meat concluded Ben noticed Louise sitting silently, hands in her lap, eyes following the flow of conversation but making no comment. An electric tension began to suffuse the atmosphere of what might otherwise have been taken for an ordinary dinner party.

'Always an enjoyable part of the proceedings,' observed Phil expansively, 'the anticipation of things to come. I gather Louise has promised you two novices some instruction in our ways,' he continued. 'Well, Saturday evenings here are set aside for Louise to account and atone for her sins and for me to dispense discipline as I see fit.

If you, Nicola, and you, Ben, would care to join us we'd be delighted to share our knowledge and experience.'

'I'm willing,' replied Nicola decisively.

'Me too,' confirmed Ben experiencing an agreeable thrill of adrenalin-fuelled expectation as he spoke the words.

'Splendid,' Phil smiled. 'Now, you'll no doubt have noticed Louise has been looking a tad apprehensive this last half hour or so; well she might. Her conduct over the last week – I won't bore you with the details – has earned her a traditional three-part punishment which I now intend to commence. If you two would be so good as to follow us through to the next room we can begin.'

The lounge was large and warm, atmospherically lit with uplighters and furnished with comfortable antiques.

'Proper punishments begin with a spanking,' Phil pronounced, 'only a bloody barbarian goes straight for a rod or switch. Build up gradually and be surprised how far you can go.'

Ignoring a suitable-looking upright wooden chair he sat instead on a well-padded sofa. Catching Ben's quizzical expression Phil explained: 'I know in the magazines the unfortunate damsel touches the floor with hands and toes but if you're intending to keep her there for more than five minutes it's hellish hard on the back.'

Taking Louise by the hand he drew her to attention beside him.

She wore an elegant wool suit, silk blouse and black high heels. 'Lift your skirt woman,' he ordered. Louise glanced around, as if only now aware of the expectant looks on the faces of her invited audience. Nervously she ran her tongue across her red lips before obeying. From just above the knee she gradually inched the material up bare legs, teasingly revealing taut thighs and buttocks until at last it bunched around her waist.

Unhurriedly, Phil turned Louise in a circle running his hands over her silky-smooth, lightly suntanned flanks. A few strands of dark hair strayed from the front of a pair of black lace-edged knickers, barely containing a full firm backside.

Every inch a sensual, sexual woman thought Ben feeling the front of his trousers tighten involuntarily. Next to him Nicola put on her glasses. On the sofa Louise now languished across Phil's lap.

Slap, slap, slap, Phil applied his right hand to the rounded, pale checks. Elbows resting on the sofa cushions, chin in her cupped hands Louise stared into the middle-distance as if entranced. Some 50 or more smacks later Phil halted and instead tugged her knickers tightly into the furrow that separated the two reddening globes. Louise jerked her hips agitatedly, the sudden switch from pain to pleasure occasioning her first audible response. Sighing contentedly she turned to observe her partner's ministrations.

'Quite sufficient a gradual warm-up,' said Phil by way of reply. 'High time you had a proper spanking.' Slap, slap, slap. Nicola sat on the upright chair, leaning forward to gazed with rapt concentration as this live CP scenario unfolded. Ben noticed her wince in sympathy as noticeably harder smacks echoed like pistol shots around the room. Her skirt had ridden up revealingly and he watched in fascination as she unconsciously clenched and unclenched her thighs.

The effect on Louise was clearly less erotic. Little yelps and moans now escaped her lips as she tried vainly to twist her body from Phil's tight, waist-encircling grip.

Another pause, Louise groaning in pleasure as Phil's hand again soothed the hot mounds and his finger explored hidden depths. Told to raise her hips she instantly obeyed allowing Phil to slip the black scanties to her knees.

Smack, smack, smack, Phil redoubled his efforts. Protesting loudly now Louise wriggled fiercely on his lap earning a dozen scalding slaps to her thighs for her trouble. 'Women who struggle must pay the price,' announced Phil steadfastly. Ben stole another glance at Nicola who remained fixated by the sight before her, one hand twirling her red hair, the other beneath her skirt.

Phil's hard hand descended six more times to conclude the first stage of his wife's ordeal. Tugged to her feet, she stood hair awry and dishevelled, in marked contrast to the manicured, self-possessed woman of 15 minutes previously.

Instinctively her hands flew to rub her burning bottom, now a uniform ruby red. 'Oh, no you don't,' Phil's directive was punctuated with a sharp slap to the front of each thigh, drawing a wail of complaint. 'Hands on head and into the corner, now.' Fettered by her tangled knickers Louise hobbled across the room to stand facing the wall her dark glistening thatch just visible to three pairs of admiring eyes.

'Your turn, I think, Ben,' said Phil mildly, returning to his seat, 'I'm sure you can find an excuse to punish that pretty young person next to you.'

Ben was equal to the moment. 'I'm not sure I need one,' he replied in an assured voice, 'there again,' he added after a piquant pause, 'I certainly do not like to be kept waiting by a date.'

Nicola's reaction to this new authoritative tone was not quite as he'd imagined. He'd expected to be treated to an expression of fey shock, contrarily she merely poked out her tongue. With one stride Ben covered the distance between them. Grasping her wrists he'd pulled the miscreant to her feet and, before she knew it, seated himself on the chair and pushed her over his lap. Drawing up her short pleated skirt with his right hand he reached with the left to deftly remove her glasses.

'Bravo old chap,' said Phil taking them from Ben while the latter surveyed his prize. Ignoring Nicola's token protestations he allowed his hands to glide over a pair of damson coloured briefs. Similar coloured suspenders were fastened to once-again fashionable tan stockings.

'Now hang on a min...' Nicola's last ditch plea for clemency died on her lips as Ben swung down his arm. Resisting the temptation to spank too hard too soon he followed Phil's example and built up the tempo slowly, working skillfully to both chastise and arouse. Painted finger nails scrabbled at the rug, painted toe nails in high strappy sandals kicked in the air.

Ten minutes later, knickers round her ankles, bare bottom an angry pink, Nicola stood next to Louise sneaking a glance over her shoulder to watch the men sip their wine in companionable, contemplative silence.

Phil's plan for the next stage of this practical introduction to the not so gentle art of CP proved ingenious. Plump cushions were placed at the two ends of a long oak dining table and the women bent over them to lie face to face. He instructed each to grasp the other's wrists before personally taking on the onerous task of removing knickers and spreading legs.

Walking over to a cupboard in the corner Phil took out two tawses which, judging from their appearance, had given sterling service over many years. He handed the lighter of the two to Ben with the words, 'I'll go first, then you follow suit.' Taking his place Ben noticed the older couple were standing in front of a full-length mirror. He watched carefully as Phil raised the burnished two-tailed leather strap to shoulder height before bringing it down across the crown of his wife's upturned hindquarters.

Louise cried out, sliding forward on the polished table top. The twin hillocks of her cheeks flattened with the impact before springing back into their former spherical shape. Ben followed suit but was disappointed to deliver a rather feeble sounding swat. Phil's turn again and a satisfying crack of leather on skin drew another shout from Louise who, were it not for Nicola's firm grasp, would no doubt have shot bolt upright.

Ben tried again but still had not mastered the technique. Nicola's cry was one of genuine anguish and, as her feet performed an agonised tap dance, he was horrified to see an angry red weal form on her right thigh. He swallowed the urge to apologise as Phil blithely advised, 'A little too far to the right, don't let the tails curl round or you miss the proper target'.

Fortunately Ben hit his stride with stroke number three, going on to deliver five crisp, blazing stripes, one after another, each accompanied by increasing cries of woe.

'Very good,' observed Phil. 'You're quite getting into the swing of things.' He ran his hands reflectively across Louise's now blotchy, blaming buttocks. 'Another four should fit the bill nicely – tell you what, let's try to synchronise them.'

It was an image Ben hoped he'd never forget: a pair of tawses concurrently swishing down to punish two already very sore bottoms whose owners, self-possession rapidly deserting them, yelled and twisted in unison, tightly grasping each other's hands for support and succour. Taking his cue from the reflection in the mirror, Ben ensured his final cuts lashed low into that supremely sensitive area where buttocks and thighs merge, forcing the recipient up onto her toes. Louise's lip trembled, her face flushed but, although breathing rapidly, she maintained her composure.

Less cushioned to resist the searing impacts by the tenth stroke Nicola's mascara was running in rivulets down each cheek, her high heels drumming on the polished parquet. She looked absolutely gorgeous, thought Ben, at once proud, vulnerable and thoroughly dominated. His erection neared critical mass as he floated on the biggest high of his life.

'Feel free to rub,' said Phil expansively as, a thorough tawsing completed, the two women stood stiffly, tentatively reaching behind to gently knead their ravished nether regions.

'And finally,' he added returning to the mysterious corner cupboard, 'the cane.' Again his choice of implement was rather heavier than Ben's. 'I suggest half a dozen for Nicky as it's her first time, but for Louise, who seems determined to be stubborn, the full dozen.

Right woman, centre of the room. You know the drill.'

Head held high, Louise did his bidding. Shedding her blouse and skirt en route she stood erect in just heels and a Wonderbra, revealing that nature had allocated equally generous curves to the upper half of her body. Taking a deep breath she gracefully bent forward to grasp her ankles, feet half a metre apart.

Phil delivered half a dozen hard, unhurried strokes spaced at roughly ten second intervals and leaving a legacy of neatly spaced parallel lines that would decorate her derriere for several days. Between each whack Louise struggled to maintain her stance but, despite the all too obvious pain searing through every nerve ending, failed to shed a tear.

'Very impressive my dear,' said Phil affectionately as she stood to once again rub the target area 'but you're the architect of your own misfortune. Bend again please, knees together, legs straight, and this time push that bottom right out.'

'The trick,' be addressed this remark to no one in particular but spoke with the voice of one uttering a universal truth, 'is to know and respect your partner's limits, but each time take them just a fraction further. Louise has demonstrated self-control, I shall now exercise complete control.'

Ben and Nicola stared speechless, this was a scenario far beyond their dreams. Chastened and humiliated, nevertheless Louise was visibly sopping wet. 'Do you accept this final chastisement?' asked Phil quietly. 'I do darling,' came the unhesitating reply.

This time the strokes fell rapidly, one after another, each criss-crossing those applied earlier. Squirming in pain Louise had tears in her eyes by the second and to Ben's amazement, was both smiling and sobbing by the sixth.

Having kept position throughout Louise straightened as if released of a burden to address the remaining participants: 'If you'll forgive us we've some pressing business in the bedroom...' she paused wincing as she massaged the corrugated globes, 'please take your own time to finish and make full use of the facilities.' Another pause, Phil strong and silent stood behind gently cupping her breasts in his large hands.

'I'm pleased to confirm you've both excelled at this first lesson,' he added with mock severity, 'next month we're holding an advanced class, I look forward to your attendance.'

Their hosts departed. Nicola walked gingerly over to Phil, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him long and hard, moulding her body to his as she did so.

'Just you wait your turn,' responded Ben firmly, as he led her unprotesting to the well-upholstered arm of the sofa. Off came the pleated skirt, the T-shirt followed. Two diminutive but prominent breasts, each nipple erect, were proffered. 'Not yet,' said Ben his voice barely a whisper but suddenly possessed by a confidence and authority he'd only previously imagined.

Having bent Nicola face down over the sofa's broad cushioned arm, legs straight and slightly apart, he stopped for a moment to survey his handiwork. Her glorious pert little bottom positively radiated heat. Angry red stripes embroidered the centre and a livid crimson hue gradually faded as it spread to her flanks and thighs.

Ben left a long interval between each of the subsequent six strokes of the cane, allowing the full stinging effect to warm its way towards the glistening treasure awaiting him in the valley below. Her beautiful, bare, blush-red arse bore marks that would stay for several days, yet he'd not thrashed her hard. There'd been no need.

And she knew. 'Now you've beaten me, what's next?' she enquired rhetorically, replacing the proffered spectacles. A visible tremor of desire ran through her lithe body. 'Please Ben. I need you, inside me, now.' By way of reply he loosened his belt and grasped her hips.

One step to heaven. Once more Nicola bent forward then once again went up onto her toes, the heat from her beaten bottom firing her loins and suffusing his as her new lover thrust deep and hard inside her.

Three months later, Nicola's first erotic novel was published to wide critical acclaim, even gaining plaudits from mainstream book reviewers. It was dedicated to: 'My two oldest friends, Louise and Phil, and my new mentor, Ben.'

Monday, 13 June 2011

Best Friends

Story from Janus 30.

Best Friends
by Mike Reid

SUE was a typical young girl of these times. A teenager looking far older than her actual 16 young years; tall, with a pretty face and blonde hair falling to her shoulders, and a gently curving body that showed the development of her sex was already well advanced, if not yet fully complete. In addition to her attractive facial qualities she had very long symmetrical legs, culminating in a pert, rounded bottom, which caused many a male head to turn and watch as she swayed suggestively along the street, especially when clad in tight blue jeans, in which she looked killing. Still a schoolgirl, she also caused a similar stir when traversing back and forth to and from school each day in her school uniform, comprising a very short grey pleated skirt, white blouse, white knee-length socks and, occasionally, a grey tie.

Generally she hung around with a small gang of girls of her own age, and whilst she enjoyed the company of boys, those of her acquaintance tended to act in an immature way and she came to regard them as rather childish. She was of course aware that older males found her attractive and she quite enjoyed the game of playing the 'innocent virgin' to see what reaction she could provoke, particularly amongst certain male schoolmasters, who she knew would be totally frustrated by her actions, including the apparently inadvertent flash of thighs or even her brief panties, or sometimes she would allow a firm young breast to peek out from her blouse when a few buttons 'happened' to become undone from time to time.

Her breasts were not yet overly large, but they were firm, with up-pointed nipples, which would seem to thrust themselves against the thin material of her blouse, especially when the air was cool, and could hardly escape attention. Apart from teasing her schoolmasters in this way, she also practised her young talents, when so minded, on shopkeepers and tradesmen alike, even more so in the Summer, when she happily donned the shortest and tightest of cut-off denim shorts, to run errands for her Mum, and was the cause of many near-accidents as drivers diverted their attention from the road to crane their necks and admire the long legs and exposed bottom cheeks so blatantly exhibited by the attractive young girl.

On many occasions she would hear, but ignore, the lewd suggestions shouted out to her by passing motorists, and likewise she never seemed to notice the innuendos and ambiguous comments made to her when actually doing the shopping, coming in the main from the older shopkeepers who, without exception, looked forward to her regular visits.

Every such shopping expedition took her into the modest-sized Newsagents and Tobbaconists run by a middle-aged man and his rather younger wife – Mr and Mrs Gaston – and whilst such visits were often prompted by necessity, more often than not it was just to pop in and see her former school chum Katherine, who now worked in the shop having just left school. Sue and Kate (as she liked to be called) were the very best of friends and Kate often tried to persuade Sue to join her in working in the shop part-time, suggesting that she would not only enjoy the money but also the very kind attentions of Mr Gaston, who she said was a real 'sweetie' and looked after her in an avuncular way, hinting that there was something going on between her and her employer. Sue took all these suggestions with a very large pinch of salt, knowing Kate so well from their previous close school camaraderie, for although Kate was older than her at 17, she knew she kept away from boys and seemed only to enjoy her own or Sue's company. Sue also knew that Kate did not have a happy home-life. Her mother, widowed soon after giving birth to Kate, was clearly struggling to bring up her daughter on her meagre earnings working in the local Chemist, supplemented to a small degree by a contribution from Kate's own earnings. Kate did however earn sufficient to ensure that she was always fashionably dressed, although when working in the shop she always wore the tightest of jeans, and always resisted every suggestion from Sue that she switch to shorts in the Summer, like herself. Sue found that a trifle strange, but decided not to pursue it. Certainly Kate looked sexy in tight jeans, as adjudged by Sue, being rather petite, with a figure not much unlike her own, although her bottom was slimmer and her breasts rather fuller, accentuated more often than not by the wearing of tight tee-shirts and no bra. Kate usually wore her brown hair tied into two bunches which tended to make her look much younger than she actually was.

Kate didn't work on Wednesday afternoons, being half-day closing, and quite often Kate and Sue would meet at each other's houses and play records, watch TV or, on some occasions, they would don their bikinis, but when these had been forgotten they would dare each other to brave the possible gaze of hidden observers, and swim in just their brief panties, even discarding those when they felt especially brave.

On one such day, in the middle of the hot pleasant days of August, Kate and Sue found themselves at the river bank, and with no one in sight Sue quickly slipped off her tee-shirt to expose her proud young breasts to the sun, and Kate soon followed suit. As the sun was almost unbearable, Sue suggested that a swim was the ideal solution and without further ado stood up, loosening her belt and unclipping her tiny shorts, allowing them to slip down her shapely legs. She was then standing in just a brief pair of tight white nylon panties, in the tanga style, with string-thin strips joining the front half to the back portion, barely covering her curvacious posterior and exposing well in excess of half of her lower cheeks, presenting a very attractive picture indeed. Kate, however, clad as always in her tight jeans, refused to join into the spirit of things despite much pleading from Sue who felt rather upset by her friend's reluctance to meet her own degree of exposure. After many words had been exchanged Sue, who was in a mischievous mood, grabbed hold of Kate from behind and exerting her strength, succeeded in unclipping Kate's jeans before wrestling her to the ground where a strenuous bout ensued, Kate fighting back rather harder than Sue expected. They had often in the past had mock fights with each other and Sue had never experienced much difficulty in overcoming her more slightly-built friend. In the continuing struggle, much to Kate's dismay, her jeans came gradually down her lithe legs, until with a quick jerk they were whipped away by Sue and hurled high into the air to catch just out of reach on the overhanging branch of a nearby tree. Kate promptly sat herself down on the grass, with a cross and sulky expression on her face; she too was now reduced to a tiny pair of knickers, which Sue glimpsed to be of the backless G-string kind, with just a thin band of elastic holding the small triangle of red nylon covering her pubic mound, from which peeked a few stray wisps of downy curls, matching her brown hair, with a similar strip of elastic running tightly between the cheeks of her bottom.

'Oh!' said Sue. 'They're nice – didn't you want me to see your sexy knicks?'

'Er! Er! No-o-oh,' said Kate, acting in a very flustered way.

'But they're super!' said Sue. 'I'd love some like that myself but I'm not sure what Mum and Dad would say when they appeared in the wash!'

'Oh! My Mum doesn't mind – in fact, she sometimes wears the same kind herself,' answered Kate who was by this time recovering some of her composure.

'Can I try them on, please,' Sue asked, but again Kate was not responsive, and without more ado Sue went quickly back into the attack, pushing Kate over sideways and onto her tummy on the green grass. Sue then sat on the bare back of her hapless victim, preventing her from getting up or turning over. It was at this stage, as Sue turned her head to examine the back of Kate's G-string, that she noticed some marks on Kate's bottom.

'Kate!' she cried. 'What on earth has happened to your bum? – Did I do that? Oh I am ever so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you.'

Before Kate could respond Sue jumped off and gently started to stroke her friend's bottom, and then slowly realised that the marks she had seen were in fact horizontal stripes, something she could not possibly have caused during their little skirmish. Kate remained passively on the ground, as if resigned to her fate, as Sue continued to examine the faint lines more closely. After a little while Kate rolled over, and gazed up in a rather embarrassed way into Sue's inquisitive face.

'However did you get these marks?' said Sue softly, returning her gaze. 'I think they look like cane marks,' she continued. 'But who gave them to you? Was it your Mum? And was that the real reason why you didn't want me to see your bare behind?'

Again Kate became flustered. At first she denied that they were the result of a caning, but then, seeing the disbelieving look on her friend's face, she admitted that they were. Yet she refused to say why she had been so punished, or by whom.

'Right!' said Sue, who was by now determined to force the whole story from her friend, and she grabbed hold of Kate's slender wrists. Now Kate found herself being set upon in earnest and Sue, being the stronger of the two, was easily able to overpower her petite friend and hold her down, pinning her slim wrists together on the ground behind her head.

Although she struggled desperately to get free, Kate was unable to break away from Sue's steely grip. Sue continued to question her captive as to the cause and perpetrator of her recent caning. Kate steadfastly refused, however, to tell Sue how she got the cane marks across her bottom, despite being tickled unmercifully. Sue soon became exasperated by Kate's continued silence and seized on an idea to force the truth from her friend.

Seeing a long thin springy branch hanging from a nearby tree, she snapped off a two-foot length and held the whippy rod menacingly before Kate's startled face.

'Now you will tell me EVERYTHING, my dear, or else I shall give you a taste of this!' hissed Sue.

Sue then proceeded to run the end of the whippy switch slowly up and down the front of Kate's exposed, helpless body, from her feet, up the length of her legs, over the tapering columns of her thighs, rasping it momentarily over her barely concealed mound. Kate flinched at the press of the switch on her most sensitive spot, then with dreaded fascination watched it move slowly onwards, up over her flat stomach until it reached her generous breasts, still full and jutting though she lay supine on the grass. Sue then allowed the whippy end of the branch to stroke the soft undersides of Kate's nakedly exposed breasts, watching Kate's nipples become fully erect at the touch of the scratchy wand. Sue then brushed the cane down from these glorious summits momentarily, but soon brought it back again to toy casually with the by now flint-hard nipples, her eyes closely studying Kate's facial reactions which evidenced her acute fear as to what Sue might do next with the cruel-looking rod.

'Now,' said Sue, in a gently persuasive tone, 'I would like you to tell me now all about your punishment, because if you don't I am going to whip you with this nice little stick until you beg for mercy!!'

Again Kate remained mute, at which Sue deftly flicked the switch twice, once against Kate's lush, unsuspecting thighs, and then across the soft undersides of her two sweet breasts, causing her to yelp with surprised pain.

'OK,' said Sue, 'that was your last chance: as you won't tell me the truth you now have only TWO alternatives. Either you will now submit willingly to a good whipping on your bottom, or otherwise I will hold you down and use this cane on your poor little titties – which is it to be?'

Kate could not at first believe that her best friend would actually implement her dire threat and use the cruel switch on her sensitive breasts, but in the absence of a quick response she suddenly felt an agonising line of stinging pain burn through her upper torso as Sue gave her a swift cut with the whippy twig across both exposed breasts, just below the pert nipples. Kate, stunned by this turn of events, but still reluctant to tell about her previous caning, saw little alternative but to allow Sue to have her way and whack her bottom, much preferring that to the vastly worse alternative.

Without further delay, and to avoid additional punishment, Kate bit her lip and turned her body over. Sue released her grip, smiling to herself as her darling friend meekly submitted, pleading with her only not to be too harsh.

'No!' said Sue sternly. 'Not like that – I want you on your feet. Come on – get up!'

Meekly, Kate rose to her feet and stood solemnly before Sue, who then directed her to reach up and grasp hold firmly of the low, overhanging branch with both hands. Kate had to stretch herself fully to get a good grip, her feet barely touching the ground as she steeled herself for the punishment she knew was to come but which she had no choice but to endure.

Sue then proceeded to run the thin whippy switch up and down each side of Kate's fully extended body, starting at her wrists and running it slowly down her soft skin until it reached her feet, repeating the slow torture on the other side before turning her attention once again to the exposed front of poor Kate's nakedness. Sue slowly ran the slim cane up the front of her thighs, over her scarcely covered mound, upwards over her flat stomach until she reached Kate's bare breasts, stroking each exposed tittie in turn, noting how Kate's nipples were by now very stiffly erect. She found it every bit as strange that her own nipples were also extremely hard, and more than that: they seemed to be throbbing – something which had never happened to her before. Indeed, she felt totally strange, but it was a feeling she could not quite understand, other than that she was standing, nearly naked, out in the wilds, with her best friend also stripped to the barest minimum and wholly at her mercy – why was she feeling this way? She felt a strange kind of pleasure running through her body and after a moment's further reflection on her novel condition, turned to stand behind her friend, just at a slight angle to facilitate what she had in store for poor quivering Kate. Slowly she ran the slim tapering rod up and down Kate's exposed back parts, paying particular attention to the slim, firm backside now helplessly waiting before her. She asked Kate again if she was now willing to tell her all she wanted to know, but got no response, other than a weak plea for the punishment not to be too severe. But Sue was by now too aroused to pay any heed to Kate's begging and prepared to administer the switch to the very attractive bottom presented before her.

Sue felt peculiarly elated and excited, even before she raised the cane for the first stroke. But finally she could contain herself no longer, and proceeded to raise her arm and bring the swishy rod down crisply against Kate's unprotected bottom, catching it fully across both cheeks and producing a shriek from Kate's mouth and a thin red line across her posteriors, in stark contrast to the paler, fading marks remaining from Kate's previous punishment.

'Quiet!' said Sue sternly, but with a thick voice which she herself could hardly recognise. 'Do you want someone to come and see you like this? I suggest you curb any desire to yell!' and with that she broke the thick end off of the cane and put it in Kate's mouth, telling her to bite hard on it as an aid to prevent her yelling out further.

By this stage, Sue was hoping that Kate would continue to prove obstinate, for whilst she remained inquisitive as to the source of Kate's previous punishment, she felt a strong desire within herself to inflict pain on her friend and hoped that she could prolong the infinite pleasure it was giving to her.

Standing again behind Kate she raised her arm in a high arc and Kate could hear the swishing sound of the switch whipping down a split-second before the second cutting stroke landed, slightly below the first, with a sharp crack. Kate bit on the wood between her teeth and succeeded in stifling any further yelps, although the two cuts she had received so far had hurt a lot; her bottom was blazing with fire, and a red flush was now spreading out from the two distinct lines etched horizontally across her behind. Sue, now warmed to her task and quite forgetting to ask her friend if she was now willing to talk, began to systematically whip the supple rod across Kate's smarting nates, building up a regular rhythm, leaving a clear pattern of criss-crossed lines etched against Kate's otherwise pale skin, and filling the air with the sound of cane falling on soft flesh. The resulting weals covered poor Kate's bottom, from the top of her haunches right down to the middle of her slim thighs, although the focus of Sue's attentions appeared to be directed to the lower curve, just above the joining line between her curving cheeks and the thighs themselves.

Eventually, after possibly 40 or 50 wristy strokes had landed forcibly on their helpless target, Sue stopped – realising that she had become rather carried away in her passion to punish her friend, knowing that Kate must be suffering untold agonies, judging from the state of her poor behind which was now a livid mass of red weals, and the right-hand side of her body which bore the evidence of deeper marks where the cruel tip of the rod had flicked round with the force of the strokes. Full of reproach, Sue flung down the switch, catching her breath as she surveyed the scene before her. Kate still clung stoically to the overhanging branch, hands high above her head, and then Sue noticed visible tremors emanating from the whole of Kate's tautly stretched, all-but-naked body. As if mesmerised by these movements she did nothing to disturb the scene, but paused to savour the whole situation a little longer. She then noticed that Kate no longer held the wooden bit between her teeth; this now lay on the ground, clearly having been dropped by Kate sometime earlier during the proceedings. Sue couldn't quite understand why her friend hadn't therefore cried out during her castigation, or indeed pleaded with Sue to stop, by begging for mercy or even agreeing to tell her about the previous caning she had suffered. This puzzled Sue who was even more surprised to see that Kate's tremors were becoming more intense. She walked around to face Kate, intending to tell her she could let go of the branch as the whipping was over, and perhaps comfort her in some way.

Sue stopped short, however, when she caught sight of the odd expression now showing on Kate's face: her eyes were closed, and her mouth was slightly open, with her tongue just peeking out, moistening her lips. In addition, soft moans were coming from her throat, and she seemed quite clearly to be in some form of ecstasy. Sue saw that Kate's nipples were now even more erect than before, much like her own. And further, fascinated, not to say entranced glances also showed that Kate was rhythmically rubbing her thighs together. The tremors she had noted earlier were increasing in tempo until finally Kate gave out a stifled cry, the tremors reaching a violent crescendo in which her whole body stiffened and writhed with furious energy. Then gasping and sighing, her head sagged and she hung limply down from the branch which still supported her on tiptoes.

At this juncture, Sue reached up and gently prised open Kate's vice-like grip on the branch, allowing her to release her hold. She then clasped the slim girl around her slender waist and gently laid her on the grass on her flat stomach, realising that her bottom would be too tender to come into contact even with soft green grass.

Sue allowed Kate to lie there undisturbed for a while to recover whilst she herself tried to fathom out in her own mind the significance of what had just occurred. She understood that Kate had just undergone a very powerful orgasm, as a direct result of the vicious punishment she herself had meted out. She was also acutely aware that her own nipples were now throbbing painfully and as she sat on the grass her hand, as if guided by an invisible force, travelled down to nestle inside her panties, finding them, much to her surprise, to be already wet from the intense sexual experience she had undergone whilst whipping her best friend. Caught up in the onrush of her lust, Sue swiftly pulled her tiny briefs down to her thighs and inserting her fingers into her damp sex, proceeded to bring herself to a violent orgasm, enjoying one of the most satisfying climaxes of her young life.

Shaken by this unexpected occurrence, Sue turned her head to find Kate, much to her embarrassment, turned towards her and smiling, looking directly to where Sue's hand still rested at the apex of her thighs. Sue quickly removed her hand, blushing deeply and at the same time moving across to where Kate lay, whereupon she instinctively took her into her arms and cradled her head on her thighs, holding her as though she were a young child in need of comfort.

Kate soon responded to Sue's gesture and without either of them quite realising what was happening, the two teenangels found themselves locked into a silent crushing embrace of nubile loveliness, breast against firm breast, thigh against thigh, with Sue gently caressing Kate's raw and blazing bottom, eliciting more sighs and moans as she did so.

It was a long time before either spoke but Kate took the initiative and told Sue not to blame herself in any way for what had occurred, but to try and understand their mutual feelings, and not to feel any guilt either in respect of the severe thrashing she had given her or the fact that she had been turned-on by the episode. She told Sue that for as long as she could remember she had felt the need for physical pain to aid her to orgasm but none of the boys she knew had taken the broad hints she had given them. Her mother had from time to time resorted to corporal punishment, usually just a hand spanking which never really hurt, even when given on her near-naked bottom covered by thin nylon knickers. There had, however, been the rare occasion when she had been very bad and her mum had resorted to a thick leather belt or a garden cane, both of which really hurt, allowing her to gain great sexual pleasure both during and after the sessions. In the wake of such a painful punishment she would often masturbate herself for days to come, using the reflection of the fading marks revealed in her bedroom mirror to remind her of the peculiar pleasure meted out by the cane or strap.

Sue then began to understand why Kate would need to wear jeans after such punishments, but before she could break into the conversation, Kate continued with her 'confessions'. Apparently, a little while after starting work for Mr and Mrs Gaston, there were a few shortages in the till for which she was blamed and threatened with the sack if they recurred. Unfortunately for Kate, a further sum of money was missing soon afterwards and Mr Gaston told her to come and see him after work the next Wednesday, when the alternative to the sack could be discussed. The shop would then be closed and, incidently, his wife would be away visiting relatives. Wednesday came at last and Kate found herself entering Mr Gaston's private quarters behind the shop, guessing that something drastic was going to happen, but somehow she knew that it might be enjoyable.

Mr Gaston didn't waste any time telling his young, attractive employee just what was in his mind. She could either face dismissal or take another form of punishment. She asked what he meant and her heart missed a beat when he told her that she would have to consent to a smacked bottom every time money went missing, the severity being determined by how much cash was short. With mixed feelings she agreed to his terms, preferring a spanking to losing her job. Mr Gaston, of course, could hardly have realised Kate's secret longing to feel the warmth of punishment applied to her slim backside. With that, Mr Gaston suggested that she now prepare for her first session.

With her nerves all a-jangle, her mind raced with all kinds of thoughts and anticipations of what lay in store for her, tension mixed with a little fear, although Kate was happy in the knowledge that at least her job was safe and her Mum wouldn't hear about the missing money. Mr Gaston led her through his quarters into his lounge, in the centre of which ominously stood a large heavy leather-covered armchair. "Right" said Mr Gaston, perhaps a little breathlessly, but Kate didn't notice – she was shaking slightly with both fear and excitement, wondering just what Mr Gaston would do to her. She could feel her bottom cheeks clenching together under their own power, tightly encased in her usual denim jeans, and she wondered for just how much longer they would be staying on! She was thankful that she had had the foresight to put on a pair of her favourite knickers before coming to see her boss: pale blue nylon bikini briefs, tight and snug and very cut-away, revealing a lot of her beautiful bottom, although the front modestly covered her pubic mound. Suddenly the thought crossed her mind that these too might be coming off, and her anguish heightened at the prospect of exposing herself so fully to her employer.

Kate's anxiety was however short-lived as Mr Gaston spoke and commanded her to prepare herself, explaining that on this first occasion she was to receive six strokes with a leather tawse which he then produced from a drawer in the sideboard. 'First, young lady, you can get out of those jeans, they will stop you feeling the thongs properly.' Meekly Kate obeyed, blushing deeply as she unclipped her jeans and tugged them down over her slim curvy hips, and let them fall to the floor, before stepping out of them. She noticed Mr Gaston's satisfied expression as he closely watched her strip off her trousers and although she was a little shocked she wasn't actually surprised when he ordered her to also remove her T-shirt, 'as it might get in the way'. Hardly, she thought to herself, but nevertheless pulled the top over her head, revealing her full, firm naked young breasts to Mr Gaston's keen gaze. She knew she had a good body – lithe and firm, with unblemished skin and good-sized tits which now revealed her inner excitement by displaying fully erect nipples at their tips.

She waited expectantly whilst Mr Gaston slowly and carefully studied the lovely, youthful vision now revealed near-nakedly before him, fully taking his fill of the delightful sight. Next he ordered her curtly to now stand at the back of the leather armchair set in the middle of the room, and she shuddered as the cold of the old leather touched her upper thighs and even penetrated the thin nylon front of her panties, as she stood motionless against it.

'Now,' said Mr Gaston gently, 'for your carelessness you are to be punished severely but I don't want you screaming the place down.' Kate said she understood and at his further command bent herself completely over the back of the chair and let her hair fall onto the seat, hiding her face from view, with her arms reaching out to clasp the arms of the chair. Thus her bottom was tightly stretched over the high back of the chair, her feet almost leaving the floor, bringing her mound into close contact with the hard ridge of the chair-back, increasing her feeling of helplessness. The cold leather took her breath away as her soft, full breasts came into crushing contact with it, and her nipples throbbed with the additional stimulation.

Several moments passed. Kate suffering the extra agony of waiting, prolonged further as Mr Gaston stroked his rough hands over the taut nates so willingly exposed for him to punish as he saw fit, testing the softness and admiring the pale texture of the skin which he knew would soon assume a darker hue and burn terribly from the cruel hiding he planned to deliver with the tawse. He firstly gave the naked behind a few gentle, playful slaps with his hand, leaving red outlines of his palm prints on the exposed portion of the delicate bottom. But before the proper part of the punishment commenced, Kate felt Mr Gaston's hands slip into the waistband of her briefs and then pull them slowly down over her hips, until they rested halfway down her tapering thighs. Her desirable, rounded bottom was now fully exposed, ready for Mr Gaston to start work on it. Strange feelings coursed through her mind, feelings of equal fear and pleasure, but most of all she felt a stirring between her thighs, realising that at last her innermost desires were to be fulfilled.

Kate then related to an awe-struck Sue how Mr Gaston had whipped her arched behind, each deliberate, spaced-out stroke burning itself deep into her soft, unprotected flesh, until, after the full six strokes had landed, she felt her bottom blazing with excruciating pain. Only gradually did this turn to a more pleasurable and bearable heat, although she still found herself crying uncontrollably for a little while after the beating had stopped. Mr Gaston then sat himself down in the armchair, taking her over his knees, and proceeded to gently rub some cold cream firmly all over her fiery rump, his other hand finding, as if by chance, her exposed and sensitive right breast, which he continued to clasp in his left hand throughout the post-punishment period. His right hand, in applying the soothing cream, often slipped into the crevice of her bottom, and between her partially opened thighs, Mr Gaston applying caressing pressure. Kate was totally overcome by the sexual stimulation of her senses, which finally culminated in a frenzied orgasm, leaving, she noticed, a broad damp patch on Mr Gaston's trousers where her dripping pubis had rested.

Afterwards Mr Gaston allowed Kate to shower and dress and then he extracted a promise from her never to tell anyone of what had happened and to agree to accept further discipline from him whenever the till in the shop was wrong.

Kate went on to tell the wide-eyed Sue of many subsequent sessions, when Mr Gaston varied the ritual, getting her to take her punishments in a variety of positions, and from many different implements, always completing each spanking with the cold cream treatment... Kate never failing to achieve a body-wracking and utterly fulfilling orgasm on every occasion.

Sue was enthralled and fascinated to learn the real details of her best friend's desires, and wondered what it would be like to endure it herself. She was running her hands gently over her own partly clad bottom as she tried to imagine herself in Kate's place, cringing slightly at the thought of having to bear the initial cruel, cutting pain, but considering if the after-effects would adequately provide compensation, as clearly had happened in Kate's case. Thoughts also of having to strip naked in front of somebody like the middle-aged Mr Gaston for a caning gave the funny feeling inside her stomach a further turn as she lay pensively on the ground alongside Kate, who was now resting from her ordeal.

After a short period of thoughtful silence, Sue rose and walked purposefully across to where she had flung down the thin cane after completing Kate's whipping. She picked it up and returned to where Kate now lay on her side, watching her through half-closed eyes.

'Kate,' she said quietly, but with a husk in her voice, 'I know you said you don't blame me for what happened just now, but I was much too rough with you, and I am truly sorry that I was so cruel. I know I'm a coward when it comes to pain, but even so I've made up my mind that I would very much like you to now use this cane on my own bottom, and I want you to be as severe with me as I was with you. I'm sure I will cry but I want you to whip me as hard as you like until you think I've had enough!!'

Without saying more, Sue handed the rod to Kate who took it without replying, simply standing up to give Sue a quick hug, as if to say she fully understood her needs. Kate then led the willing Sue across the small clearing to the felled trunk of an old elm tree. The top of the large log stood some 3 1/2 feet high and so made a perfect platform for what Kate had in mind.

'Right, this will do nicely,' said Kate. 'Please bend right over this log with your hands touching the far side, so that your bottom is nicely stretched for me. Before you get down though, it doesn't seem fair to me for your bum to have the protection of those panties when mine was totally uncovered. So please take them off now Sue, and then get yourself laid across ready!'

Sue blushed but did not hesitate for long, as she was anxious now to get on with her punishment before she changed her mind. She swiftly yanked the tiny nylon briefs down over her lush, shapely form and stepped out of them, leaving her completely naked and feeling all-too-exposed and vulnerable.

Without waiting for any further command from Kate, Sue obediently positioned her body right over the waiting tree trunk, which seemed to have been made to receive her. But the rough bark was already biting hard into her soft unprotected skin, especially her prominent downy mound and firm breasts which suffered new sensations as they were crushed by her body weight against the irregular pattern of the tree's outer covering. Sue however didn't demur despite the acute discomfort, but resolutely spread and angled herself as bid, feeling the soft ground on the far side with her fingertips, leaving her toes just touching the moss on the other.

Kate, whose bottom was still smarting from her own punishment, took up her position behind the waiting Sue, finally laying the thin tapering wand across the centre of Sue's bare cheeks. She noticed her friend's flesh flinch as the flexible stick came into contact with her postured buttocks. Sue then felt the pressure ease and knew that the cane was now being raised, the prolonged waiting heightening her acute apprehension as she braced herself for her very first taste of the rod. A few moments later the terrified teenager heard the unmistakable, unforgettable whistling sound of the cane flashing through the still air, followed by a clear resounding THWACK!! as the zippy wand finally bit hard into Sue's soft and delicate skin, her bottom cheeks jerking with the sharpness of the pain. Sue yelled at the unexpected intensity of the cutting stroke, but was, remarkably, able to refrain from jumping up.

The burning pain subsided only marginally before she heard, and then felt, the second vicious stroke, which landed a little higher up her bottom, producing a second bright red line of fire across both posteriors. Sue whimpered as the agony reached deep into her body but remained passively in position, determined to take all that Kate could give her without complaining. Kate paused, watching the red flush spreading out from the two distinct weals, and then commenced to lay the springy cane steadily across the firm rounded behind awaiting her pleasure, taking care not to allow the switch to fall too far down the attractive lower cheeks, aware that Sue's skimpy shorts would not cover any marks showing on the lower curves, but still raising weal after weal on the remaining soft, white, unprotected skin of her willing victim, changing its hue to a deepening, angry red as the whipping developed.

Perspiration dripped from Kate's forehead and her pendulous, unfettered breasts swayed back and forth as she put her full energies into the task, seeking, and obtaining, full revenge for the cruel treatment meted out to her by her now submissive subject. Kate lost count of the number of strokes inflicted upon the tautly stretched nates of her best friend, hearing Sue moaning from time to time, and relishing her energetic handiwork. After some twenty minutes of administering dozens of searing strokes she decided that the by now sobbing Sue had received her just deserts, and laying down the slim tattered rod, she knelt slowly behind Sue's prone and writhing form. Kate then leant forward and delicately kissed in turn each scarlet wealed orb, feeling with her lips the deep ridges she had etched into Sue's flesh, noting as she did so that Sue was now trembling violently. Her legs and upper thighs were working agitatedly against each other and Kate then knew that Sue had achieved her desired goal, as she watched her quivering body and heard her wanton moans, now of pleasure and quite different from the initial yelps of agony she had emitted when she felt her first kiss of the rod. Without rising, Sue brought a hand round, gingerly feeling her tender, punished bottom, lightly testing the burning weals and ridges. She was very surprised at herself for having sustained such a severe punishment virtually without complaint or wishing to escape.

Allowing Sue to remain in her submissive position, Kate quickly slipped off her one remaining garment, then gently helped Sue to rise to her knees. Adopting a kneeling posture close behind her, Kate was thus able with one hand to massage and caress Sue's crushed, tender breasts, whilst her other hand moved across her velvety thighs, centring onto Sue's now moist, downy mound. Her questing, seeking fingers soon enabled Sue to achieve a second, convulsive climax, as her burning, tenderized bottom cheeks pressed firmly against Kate's lower abdomen and thighs, the heat transmitting itself deep into Kate's already aroused body, being sufficient stimulation in her highly charged state to generate her own simultaneous orgasm, matching Sue's in its incandescent intensity.

It was dark before the two girls returned home, sore, tired, but happy, each promising faithfully to keep the whole matter secret, knowing that someday they would no doubt feel the need to join again and re-enact their strange but overwhelming desires for the giving and receiving of pain.