Saturday, 19 July 2014

Hot Tails In Saskatoon

Again, like my previous post of Evolution, here are three more previously posted, standalone stories, now in the order that I intended that they should be read in.



A Short Skirt In Saskatoon!

Isn't it odd how your memory works?
Things that may have happened some twenty or more years ago can seem like only months ago, where something that happened only two or three years back feels like another lifetime?
Defining moments in your life are locked in an almost crystal clear perspective; a full day from your deep dark past can be remembered in detail, whole conversations stored verbatim in your brain.
I would like to relate to you now such a defining day in my life.

It was back in 1999; I was, at least in my mind's eye, a mature eighteen year old embarking on my final year at a private co-ed high school. The school was ridiculously strict in many ways; we did not only have a dress code, but we had an official and much hated uniform!
For us, it was charcoal grey pleated knee length skirts, a blue pullover for the lower grades, a red one for the top two years, under which we had to wear a plain white shirt and school tie. Yes, that's right, school ties for girls I mean how old fashioned is that?
Footwear was flat black shoes, and white socks, no pantyhose for us not even in the bitter cold winters. During the hot summer months we were, however, allowed the luxury of being able to remove our pullovers, as long as we were wearing suitable bras under our shirts, suitable meaning plain white so as not to over excite the boys!
Yes, even our underwear fell into school policy, plain white or plain light blue panties were the only ones allowed according to our school handbook, though in fairness that was never really checked by the staff.
Also, we had corporal punishment, not, however, the strap that the state schools used, we had the paddle an import from our neighbours to the south of us.

Apparently the state schools strap was given across the hands, can you imagine that?
Having to stand there with your hand held out as some teacher whacked your palm with a leather belt?
At our school, it was so much more civilised, the paddle across the bottom, no having to look your punisher in the eye as it was being delivered. So much more civilised I thought, and I have to admit that I thought often upon that subject.

So in this, somewhat oppressive environment, I, for one reason or another became a bit of a rebel, well at least I did for one day anyway.
I can't really remember the details of my logic that day; I know my head was filled with ideas of "Girl Power" thanks to the Spice Girls, and I had only recently found a new heroine in Miss Britney Spears.
Some how or another, my "mature" brain had decided that flashing your underwear in a "schoolie" outfit was somehow empowering.
Going through my wardrobe on the Sunday afternoon, I noticed one of my old school skirts, one that I had outgrown a couple of years prior due to a sudden teen hight spurt. So, I tried it on, and it still fitted me. Well at least, it fitted to a fashion. I could only just manage to fasten it, it's length, however, bordered upon the obscene; my bottom now filled it like it never did before pushing hard at the pleats at the rear. As I looked into my mirror twisting my head around I noticed that if I bent, even slightly the lower orbs of my butt came into view!

Perfect!

Could I dare wear it for school though?

Like the idiot that I was back then I decided that yes I could.

I had also decided that if I was going to be treating the boys to an eyeful they would want to see more than just our plain uniform panties, I was more than a little naive in the etiquette of "schoolie" get ups then, so I searched through my panties for something that would offer more of a treat, than plain white cotton.
I settled upon a pair of white red trimmed panties with a Ladybug motif, so off I snuck to school on the Monday morning, with the lyrics of Hit Me Baby One More Time running through my head as I got on the bus.

To say I turned a few heads was an understatement, everyone was agog at my attire much to my pleasure.
It was my plans for lunchtime though that were foremost in my mind.
I somehow made it to lunch without being brought to book by any of the teachers, though I did get strange looks from all of them. To my surprise the worst looks, or should I say now on reflection, the most intense of looks were from Miss Bolan our young History teacher.

Miss Bolan was the "cool teacher", I think all schools have one, fresh out of college and not really that much older than us. Young enough to keep up with all the current music and trends. She was more like a buddy than a teacher, and her lessons were always fun to attend. So I was surprised that out of all the teachers it was her that seemed the most disturbed by my clothing, though she never said anything at the time, it was more in the looks that she kept giving me.

So lunchtime arrived; I quickly made my way down to the dining area and wolfed back my lunch and leaving my friends still sitting there I made my way to the school yard, to embark upon my master plan of accidental flashing.
One thing about living in the "Paris Of The Prairies" is that we have more than our share of high winds. High winds and short pleated skirts don't go together well; the pleats act as a sort aerofoil once hit by the slightest of breezes so you can imagine the action a good gusty day would have.
So I strolled around the yard my eyes intent upon my imported Tamagotchi keyring, seemingly unaware of my constantly billowing skirt and the "accidental" exposing of my underwear. I had been strolling around the yard for maybe ten minutes before I felt the tap upon my shoulder.

"Come with me, I think you know why," Miss Bolan told me, silently I followed the now stern faced young teacher back to her classroom.

Sitting at one of the desks at the front of her class, I watched as she quickly wrote out a note, all the time berating me for my deliberate exhibitionism, once the note was finished she put it in an envelope and said.

"Take this along to Coach Pasquale, he can deal with you as he sees fit!"

So there I ended up, sitting on one of the three stools outside of Coach Pasquale's office with other students walking by, all giving me knowing or questioning looks. Everyone knew that the only reason to be sitting there was to be waiting to receive a paddling; my red pullover though would throw doubts into their minds, as seniors rarely got paddled, female seniors even rarer.
I really just wished that he would hurry up and arrive, so I could at least get into his office and out of view of my passing peers. Then I saw the door to the yard open, the black curly hair and the trademark blue tracksuit of Coach Pasquale came into view.
Now I was not so keen to be in the coach's office as I took in his short powerfully built stocky figure.

"Bonjour mademoiselle puis je vous aider?" the coach asked a puzzled look upon his face.

"Hello sir, Miss Bolan sent me to see you and to give you this," I said standing up and handing him the envelope, making it clear that I was not going to be drawn into a conversation in French.

The coach nodded as he took the envelope from me; I could swear that I saw a look of joy cross his face as he read the contents of my sentencing note.

"So, Miss Bolan seems to think that you skirt is not of regulation length," the coach said, stating the blatantly obvious, "perhaps we should check if it is knee length?"

I looked at him in disbelief; it was plain to see that my skirt was nowhere near my knees.

"If you could just kneel down for me and we can see," he said his voice full of sarcasm.

"What here......now?" I said, ashamed at the idea of being checked in such a way in the busy hall.

"Yes I believe so," he replied, looking at me like I was being overly awkward to a reasonable request.

Slowly I knelt down, wishing the floor would swallow me up. I noticed now that the passersby were now not passing by at all, but either slowing down or even just stopping completely to watch my humiliation. Perhaps I should not have been quite so quick to disregard his French greeting?

"It would appear that Miss Bolan was correct," the coach said as the hem barely reached halfway down my upper thighs, "please stand and follow me,"

Just glad to be back on my feet and to get away from my increasing growing audience I followed him into his office.

"Well for your blatant disregard of our dress codes, you will receive three pops," he told me in a matter of fact manner, "for your deliberate lewd displaying of your underwear you will receive a further two pops,"

"What!" I asked, feeling the redness now draining rapidly from my face.

"The total is five pops mademoiselle, is math not one of your strong points?"

"What displaying.....what are you talking about.....OK I accidentally put on one of my old uniform skirts this morning.....but....."

"Miss Bolan followed you for quite some time before stopping you," he said, a slight smile now dancing across his smug face, "she noticed that you were deliberately allowing the wind to lift your skirt as you walked through the yard, walked through the yard on repeated occasions she has wrote here,"

I knew now that I was done for, five pops it was going to be, no amount of lying was going to change his mind. Still, pops couldn't be that bad could it?
I did my best at a Gallic shrug as I let out a deep sigh signalling my defeat.

I looked on in silence as Coach Pasquale opened a drawer and pulled out a large red book; he quickly started writing information from Miss Bolan's note into the what I rightly took to be the Punishment Book.
Then putting the book to one side of his desk, he opened another drawer and withdrew the paddle.
To be honest, it didn't look to bad, not half as scary as some that I have seen for sale in shops, though, of course, most of them were just for decorational talk pieces, see that's how naive I was back then, it was just a plain whiteish wood blade about fourteen inches long and three inches or so wide with a short taped over handle.
Even though I had never had corporal punishment before, I thought to myself, "I can handle five pops from that no problem!"

Then the coach pointed at a metal tubular bar fastened to the wall at more or less calf hight, you know the sort of thing that old people use to help them in and out of the bath?

"If you could grab hold of the bar shoulders width apart for me please," the coach ordered me in the most polite of tones, as if he was offering me an invitation to something nice, or that I would be doing him a great service.

As I bent forward I could feel my skirt making it's way up my bottom, I knew all to well the view that I would be giving him. When I had got dressed that morning, the idea of flashing to a middle aged vertically challenged sports fanatic was not that high on my agenda!
Then he asked me to move my feet a little further back and place them also shoulders width apart. Now my head was peering back between my legs, and I could see him take up his place behind me.

I waited for the first blow, but it didn't come?

"I'm sorry this is no good stand up again please," he said in the same pleasant tone, "your skirt is not covering your bottom," he added as I turned again to face him.

For a few moments of sheer relief I thought to myself, "he is going to postpone my punishment!"

"It is no good, your skirt is riding so high up your derriere that the paddle will land half on your skirts and half on your panties!"

I nod, waiting for him to dismiss me.

"You will have to take your skirt off, it is proving to be no more than a distraction!"

His tone of voice was controlled conversational almost; it was as if he was merely pointing out the obvious. So with shaking fingers I undid the button and unzipped my skirt, I struggled to lower the garment over my hip's self consciously aware that I was in real danger of pulling my panties down along with the skirt!
Finally, the dark grey material fell to the floor, leaving me now feeling ridiculous standing there before him in my panties.

"I must say mademoiselle, for all that you're little panties look very pretty on you, I am fairly sure that they are not of the kind deemed appropriate in our uniform code," as he said that I could almost feel his eyes burning into my crotch.

For an insanely mad moment, I was sure he was going to ask me to remove them also, and oddly enough I would have complied if he had asked me to do so!

"Back over as before, please," he said, a rather triumphant smile upon his face, "and we can get this over with!"

Again I bent over and grabbed the tubular rail, now all to aware of my barely covered bottom pointing up at him, looking back through my legs I saw him move behind me, I closed my eyes and waited.

"Try to keep yourself in this position, any movement will result in extra pops, OK,"

"Yes sir!" I replied through now gritted teeth and tightly closed my eyes.

Then I felt it!

I was wrong; five pops were going to be a problem!

My eyes flew open; and I still had another four of these to come!

The actual impact was harsh enough, but it was a four to five seconds after that really hurt, the heat seemed to build up and seep away from the paddle's original landing zone.
Then an odd thing happened, whether it was my just mind trying to displace itself from my current dilemma I don't know, as I looked back and up at the coach my eyes fixed upon his tracksuit bottoms. I reasoned with myself that having an eighteen year old bent before him, her bottom offered up in such an obscene manner must be having a reaction upon him.
So as I was bent there, waiting for the second pop my eyes were searching for any signs of an erection in his loose fitting bottoms.

The second pop brought me back down to earth, if not with a thud certainly with a whack!
As hard as I had tried, not to I let out any audible gasp of pain at it's impact, thoughts of the coaches cock left my head completely as my mind was re-concentrated upon on my now truly burning butt!

Then with thought of how things could not get any worse, with still three more to go, things did get worse.
There was a knock upon the office door, before Coach Pasquale could answer the door opened and in walked Miss Bolan.

"Ah, good I have managed to catch her before she left you," she said in an all too cheerful voice for my liking. " I see you saw the need to remove her skirt?"

"As I explained to the young lady, it was impractical for her to keep it on," he then replied as if I was not even in the room. "we are nearly half way through here, only three more to go."

"Very good! I'll wait as I have a skirt here for her to wear the rest of the day," she said still in an almost sing-song mode. "a skirt of a more modest length."

Now tears were in my eyes, it was one thing the reality of getting paddled. It was another thing altogether it being witnessed by the bitch that had condemned me to it.

The next three pops are more of a blur to my memory; they were basically just a blaze of pain accompanied by the humiliation of having the "Cool" teacher watching my reversion from a young adult to a crying little girl!

Once finished, Coach Pasquale left us in the office so that I could "make myself decent"!
Sobbing I put on the washed out dirty grey skirt that Miss Bolan handed me, then she sent me on my way back to classes with a couple of sound slaps on my now skirt covered bottom to help me on my way out of the office!


So that was it, my memory of a defining life moment, my first, but far from my last, taste of CP.
Some how the things that happened that day shaped my adult life, fired up the submissive side in my sexuality, being sent by the pretty young teacher to be paddled altered my whole way of thinking.
Four years later I bumped into Miss Bolan in a club in town; we had a few drinks, and obviously this day's events came up in conversation, but that is another story!

THE END


A Night Out In Saskatoon

The last time I wrote, it was of what I would call a "defining moment" in my life, my introduction to the physical side of corporal punishment. The paddling that I received at high school at the advanced age of eighteen was a punishment that marked me in many ways; those marks remained after the bruising and redness had long gone!

The licks that I received from the coach followed by the short brisk hand spanking from my young teacher was at the time a horrible and humiliating experience. Later though at home, in the privacy of my bedroom that experience took on a memory of sweet, sweet submission!

My history lessons with Miss Bolan also took on a whole other dimension, even though she never mentioned or even hinted at that lunchtime paddling she had condemned me to, and also taken a part in. I would, however, some times notice her giving me long, thoughtful looks, or at least in my minds eye I did.
Now though I would like to tell you about another "defining moment" the moment that brought corporal punishment out from the deep recesses of my sub-conscious to the fore of my mind, where it still stays even to this day. Again it involves my erstwhile teacher, but four years later with me now a truly mature adult.

It was a cold Friday night, and I was in a club in the city centre waiting for two of my friends, when the weather started to cut in. The snow fell fast driven by high winds; it soon started to drift. I realised after about half an hour of sitting alone nursing a glass of Molson, that my buddies were not going to turn up; no doubt put off by the rapidly deteriorating conditions outside. As it was only 2002, my life wasn't quite yet run by a cellphone, so it hadn't even occurred to me bring my cell out with me when I left my parent's house. Yes, I was still living at home, happy little singleton with no ties or commitments. So with no way of getting in touch with my friends, I had decided to call it an early night and just go home writing off the start of my weekend!
Then I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard an all too familiar voice.

"Hi Jenni, you here all on your own some?" I turned to face my old history teacher, though when I say old I really mean young as she was only some four years older than me.

"Er..hi Miss Bolan," I said feeling my stomach churning, and my face flushing in that way that they always did when she spoke to me after that memorable lunchtime humiliation, even now four years later she still had that effect upon me.

"We aren't in school now hun call me Alice, you know as in School's Out," she said seemingly laughing at my discomfort ,and her pun.

I just nodded, as she invited me to join her for a drink with her friend, leading me through the bar by the arm she took me to an alcove where there sat, to say the least, was a strange looking girl.

"This is my little buddy Paula!" Alice said referring to the oddly dressed girl; Paula was an elfin faced girl with short almost shaven black hair, the top of which though had been allowed to grow in to what could only be described as an Elvis quiff. It wasn't so much her hair though that caught one's attention, it was her dress. She was wearing a thin blue denim summer dress, adorned with an almost childish white floral pattern combined with her semi laced black boots and black pantyhose it all made a weird ensemble, more so with the weather conditions outside!
As I sat down at the table Paula gave me a reluctant, almost petulant nod.

Alice took over the conversation as she used to in her classes, flitting around from one topic to another but somehow holding the listeners attention, and making all the disjointed topics into one cohesive whole. After about ten minutes or so she declared.

"I'm off to powder my nose, I'll get some fresh drinks on the way back!"

Alice then left the two of us sitting in an awkward silence; I could almost feel the loathing seeping out from Paula as we sat there, thankfully Alice wasn't to long in returning, a tray in her hands with three beers and three tequila shots on it.
Sitting down she looked at me her face full of concern and said.

"Jenni do you still live out in Furdale?"

"Er...yeah I do, still with mom and dad," I answered surprised that Alice remembered, or ever even knew for that fact, exactly where I was from. I also noted a little smirk on Paula's face when I said that I still lived with my parents.

"Well I think you should ring your mom and tell her that you are staying in the city tonight, I noticed when I was coming back from the bathroom that the snow is really cutting in, I can't see any cabs wanting to go out that far in this weather,"

I think Alice must have read the panic in my face as she then added.

"You can stay the night at my place, it's just a block away and after all who could be more trustworthy than one of your old teachers?" the smile on her face though hinted at something else, something untold but implied, something that I was not at all sure about!

"Great...er thanks, is there a phone in here that I can use...?" I couldn't really turn down her offer without seeming rude; I could see though that this turn of events was not at all to Paula's liking.

"No probs hun, here use this," Alice said handing me her cell.

After I phoned home, Alice again ruled the conversation till she dropped the bombshell.

"Did you know Paula, Jenni was the first person that I sent off for a paddling?" Paula sat in her now customary stony silence, "not only did I manage to catch the end of her paddling, but I gave her a little hand spanking on her poor little butt as well!" my stomach started turning over as she told her friend of my punishment as if it had been some sort of entertainment for her, "that was naughty of me of course; hand spankings were a big no-no, it was an odd system really, you could send a girl, or a boy for that matter off to get their butt's whacked by a muscly guy with a plank of wood but you couldn't slap their bottoms with your hand, go figure huh?"

I noticed that Alice's eyes were sparkling, almost lighting up at her recollections.

"Just think Paula of the effect that I could have had smacking some naughty eighteen year old boys little tensed up bottom? I bet their cocks would get thicker and longer with each slap, what do you think Paula?" Alice asked her friend in rather unfriendly badgering manner, then added, "but of course you never think of cocks getting hard do you?"

Now it seemed that it was Paula's turn to be the one blushing at Alice's jibes.

"Aren't you going to ask what it was that Jenni did to earn a paddling, aren't you just dying to know?"

"No, not really, but I'm sure that she deserved it!" Paula spat out.

"Oh dear, we aren't going to add bitchiness on to your sin sheet are we?" Alice said to Paula sarcastically, then turned to me, "we had a little childish temper tantrum from Paula before we came out, so I told if she was going to behave like a child I would dress her like one, hence her lovely little dress!"

I searched Alice's face for a hint of humour. There was none, only a look of almost demented glee, was she drunk, high, or both I wondered, I was now having second thoughts about staying at her apartment.

"Anyway grumpy-grumps," Alice said turning back to Paula, "I caught this innocent looking young girl here deliberately flashing her panties to all the boys in the yard! Now you would never do anything so naughty would you?" Alice then burst out laughing, apparently just at the thought of Paula flashing boys.

"Anyway enough chitter-chatter, let's get back to my place before we need another round of drinks, I've got plenty alcohol there to last us through the storm!" with that Alice threw back the rest of her beer and stood up to leave.

Like two little sheep, Paula and I followed.

So when we got back to the flat, I entered with an odd mixture of fear and excitement, as I still could not work out exactly what Alice and Paula's relationship was.

"OK Jenni, what would you like coffee or wine?" before I could answer Alice had picked a bottle of red wine out from a rack on the wall before even removing her coat. "Paula pop in the kitchen and get us three glasses please,"

Paula stomped off into the kitchen, and upon her return she slammed the three glasses down onto the coffee table in an over theatrical manner.

"Ah, I've had enough of this," Alice said with a sigh, "I'll tell you what Paula, take one of these glasses back and fetch me your brush instead."

"No...you can't be serious...not with her here," Paula said her voice in now childish whine.

"Yes I'm very serious," Alice said now looking and sounding very sober, "you have been in a rude sulk all night, and as Jenni is my guest and it is her that you have been rude and disrespectful to, I think it is only right that she sees how I deal with you behaviour!"

I couldn't take it all in; my heart beat was racing at what her words were implying, Alice intended to punish Paula?

No, I must have misunderstood the situation, mustn't I?

Then with rather downtrodden look upon her face she again left the room.

"and fetch some pins back with you as well!" Alice shouted as an afterthought.

Alice then smiled at me as she poured us both out a large glass of wine.

"I can't apologise enough for Paula's behaviour, I think it's the weather getting her down, either that or she just doesn't like you!" Alice then laughed loudly at her little joke.

When Paula returned the first thing I noticed was the large wooden backed clothes brush in her hand, the second thing I noticed was the tears in her eyes. She silently placed the brush, and four safety pins on the coffee table.

"Don't worry though Jenni, I intend to teach her a memorable lesson in manners," Alice said though whether she meant the lesson would be memorable for Paula, or for me, I'm was not at all sure, dry mouthed in anticipation I gulped deeply at the wine the hot peppery liquid causing me to cough. "you can get a chair now Paula, no hold on not yet, come here," Alice said pointing at the floor to the right of the sofa that we were both sitting upon.

Still in complete silence, Paula stood on the appointed spot.
Alice leant forward and grabbed Paula's hips and span her around so that her bottom was now facing us. I heard Paula let out a little gasp as Alice lifted the back of her denim dress up her back way past her hips, then she pinned the dress up with two of the safety pins.
I was quite surprised to see that Paula had a much fuller bottom than I had expected, her opaque pantyhose masking the colour of her full cut panties.
Then with another push at her hips, Paula was again facing us, her eyes locked with mine, looking for sympathy perhaps, or maybe hoping for my intervention?
Either way, neither were forthcoming, I was too much looking forward to seeing how this would all conclude.
Now it was the front of her dress that was being lifted and pinned up, her hand fell in what must have been an automatic reflex to cover her crotch from my view.

"Hands on your head....stupid little girl!" Alice growled, and Paula did as instructed, closing her eyes tight as she did so "there that is much better!" Alice then turned to face me, her eyes sparkling wildly, "of course you know naughty little rude girls don't get to keep their pantyhose up for a spanking don't you?"

Much to my shame I nodded enthusiastically.
I watched in rapt fascination as Alice's fingers drew Paula's pantyhose down to her knees, revealing a pair of pale blue panties.

"Jenni, do you think that rude girls should get to keep her panties up?" as Alice asked, Paula's eyes flew open in terror she looked at me pleadingly.

"No, I don't think that they should Alice!" I replied adding to Paula's distress.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Alice tugged down Paula's panties till they met up with her pantyhose at her knees.

"You notice that I make Paula keep herself well shaven," Alice said her finger running down the length of Paula's slit, "I so hate it when pubes end up in your mouth, don't you Jenni?"

Alice asked, staring at me intently as her finger continued lazily playing at Paula's exposed sex.

"Er....well....I don't know.." I replied, now it was me who was blushing again, Alice smiled at me knowingly.

"Go and get the chair now Paula!" Alice ordered giving Paula a smart smack across the front of her thighs to hurry her on.

Watching Paula teeter along out the room, tiny little steps through the hindrance of her bunched up underwear, I was torn between a strange cross of pity and envy at her abject humiliation.
When she returned with a straight backed wooden chair, I poured myself another glass of wine and sat back to enjoy the show.
Alice took up her seat and patted her lap, the now shaking Paula lowered herself over, then placed one hand upon the floor, the other hand gripped hard at the rear chair leg.

Then Alice started no warning, no preamble, just a volley of staccato slaps with the brush. The blows didn't look or sound all that severe, the rapidity of them though was obviously causing Paula some distress going by the look upon her face, and the writhing and twisting of her body.
After what seemed an age, but was probably only a minute or maybe two, Alice slowed down, but as she slowed the velocity of each slap seemed to increase. Each slap echoing through the room, causing the now teary Paula to call out.

"Please Alice......I'm sorry....please...I've learned my lesson......I'm so sorry,"

"Don't apologise to me," Alice replied nonchalantly, "it was Jenni that you were rude to all night, not me."

"Jenni.....please tell her to stop....I'm sorry...sorry I was rude to you!"

As I watched her hair brushing, and listened to her pleas I felt disembodied as if I wasn't really in the room.

"Jenni....plea-se...she won't stop till you tell her to!"

"Alice, I think she has had enough now!" I called out as Paula's voice finally brought me back from my semi transcendental state.

Alice stopped and helped Paula to her feet.

"I think a half hour in the corner would now do you the world of good," Alice told the sobbing Paula, "while we finish our drinks,"

Without any back chatting, Paula stumbled her way into the far corner of the large living room, Alice then gave me a conspiratorial smile and said.

"Jenni hun, have you ever felt a freshly well spanked bottom?" for a few seconds I thought she was planning to treat me to the same punishment as Paula, "you can actually feel the heat on your hand you know?"

Alice then rose up from her chair and went over to Paula, who had more or less calmed her self down, to what seemed to my eyes Alice then ever so gently ran the palm of her right hand over Paula's red and purple bruised butt cheeks.

"Come here Jenni, try for yourself, I can assure you that Paula won't mind!" feeling rather light headed as the wine was really starting to hit home, I sort of stumbled over to them.

Paula was still standing with her back to Alice me; her arms tightly folded in the small of her back. I tentatively reached out to her naked rear, first just my finger tips, expecting one of her hands to brush mine away from her.
She didn't!
Feeling a little more confident, I cupped her right cheek in the palm of my right hand. Alice was right; I could actually feel the heat coming off her!
It felt so alien to me to be feeling another woman's naked butt, it was so different to feeling a guy's. So soft, jelly like almost, but with not so much an underlying hardness, more of an underlying springiness.

Paula's silence in the proceedings made me wonder had I indeed really just witnessed a punishment, or had I duped into a rather elaborate S and M foreplay?

Then I felt Alice's hand upon my bottom!

"Whoah.....I'm not gay!" I protested loudly.

"Neither am I," Alice said softly, "I so hate labels, Paula though she is a fully paid up member of the sisterhood, no male members in her club, is there"

"No Alice," Paula whispered, and Alice lightly ran the fingers of her right hand through Paula's black quiff, whilst her left hand somehow found it's way back onto my bottom. This time though I didn't shrug her away.

"You see Jenni," Alice said her eyes locked on mine, "life is about experiences, why deny yourself something just because of a silly label?"

I didn't answer, neither did I complain as that her hand slipped itself down the waistband of my trousers, her fingers then moved down inside my panties, her nails running down the cleft of my bottom.

"I think it's time for bed now don't you?" Alice asked me, her stare still unwavering, "perhaps the two of us can console poor Paula here?"

Again I didn't answer, again my throat too dry to speak, I just nodded.

THE END



A New Broom In Saskatoon

I'm not sure how, but some people just seem to have the knack of recognizing a submissive nature in others. It's like they are in possession of a BDSM equivalent of gaydar, spankdar maybe?
I've googled it, and it is a recognized word, so some people must possess it or else why bother making up the word in the first place?
Alice seemed to be blessed with it, myself, on the other hand, no way!
Alice could always pick out a prospective spankee with only a look and a couple of words, and I'm not talking about in BDSM clubs here, I'm talking about shopping malls and coffee shops. There was just something that she managed to pick up on, some magical, hidden to me, sign.

So this is my recollection of my last and most unexpected sojourn into the world of spanking.

I'll start at the very beginning, as they say, in the song 'a very good place to start'.

I knew our office in Saskatoon was not faring that well sales wise, in fact, our whole company had been struggling a bit since the start of the credit crunch. Most of our sales were in private medicine, and the big insurance companies were winding up their wheels, as more than ever people were relying on the state system; however, our saving grace always seemed to be our product development lab. The lab was working upon what was rumored to be a revolutionary new fertilizer that would increase crop yields by a huge percentage.

It turned out that our 'saving grace' made us a target for some of the big fishes, and our little fish of a business was soon swallowed up by a large multi-national conglomerate eager for the potential of our labs work.
At first though nothing much changed, we just continued cruising along in low gear as we had before and seemed to be pretty much slipping under the radar of the head office in the States.
That was until one fateful January evening as we were all getting ready to head for home; we were told of a staff meeting in the conference room for nine o clock the following morning. This was going to be a full staff meeting; everyone was required to attend, not just the sales team, but everyone from the office cleaners up over.

As you can imagine, this announcement fueled a great deal of speculation, cuts were upon most minds as we headed for the elevators. Cuts or maybe even the complete closure of our office!

So in that Friday morning we all trooped into work in a state of group dismay and consternation. I was one of the first to get into the conference room, so I took a seat at the foot of the long table. At the head of the table was John Nightly our area office manager, behind him was a woman, whom I guessed to be in her mid thirties or very early forties.
She quite tall, only a couple of inches short of six foot, with medium length dark blond, almost auburn, hair. Dressed in a business suit, with a skirt rather than trousers, which bearing in mind the outside sub-zero temperatures, was quite impressive in it's self. She prowled the small carpeted area behind Mr. Nightly like a tiger in a zoo cage, as we waited for the rest of my colleagues to arrive.

Finally, after what to me had seemed an age, though, in fact, was no more than a minute or two, the others finally filed in, and either sat down, or the ones that arrived too late for a seat stood around the table in a nervous silence.
Satisfied that all of his staff were now in the office, Mr. Nightly stood and addressed the room.

"Firstly, I would like to thank you all for arriving so promptly this morning, and I would like to introduce the companies head of strategic sales, Jennifer Dorset. Jen has come here to see if she can help us to get out of our current malaise, so I now hand you over to Miss Dorset!"

Mr. Nightly's introduction made us all glance around the room at each other. This was not just someone coming up from human resources, or even a new sales rep. coming in to knock us all into shape. The lady in front of us was one of the corporations top executives, one of the companies heavy hitters, the tension in the room was now palpable as we waited for her to speak.

"Thank you John," Jennifer said, in a surprisingly English accent. "that was a fine introduction, apart from that I only like to be called Jennifer; not Jen, Jenny or Miss Dorset."

Now all eyes fell upon our highly blushing area manager.

"Well ladies and gentleman, my mission here is quite straightforward, I will be here for a month, hopefully two. Mister Nightly has kindly loaned me his office for the duration of my stay here so he can take a more hands on approach in the telesales office."

Again all eyes fell upon our now visibly squirming manager.

"My remit is simple, save it, or shut it! If I can't see at least the green shoots of recovery after my first month, I then have to pass everything over to our human resources department, for them to sort out in their own inimitable manner. So with that in mind I will be speaking to each member of your sales team on an individual basis, with a view to widening our current customer base. So let us all hope that I'm here for two months rather than for the one, and on that note I'd like to thank you all for your prompt attendance today, an attendance that I would like to see here for the length of my stay."

To say the very least, Jennifer Dorset's speech had a great effect upon all listening. So it would now seem that, in the big scheme of things, our get out jail free card in our research department, was not that gold plated after all!

True to her word, we were all given appointment times to see her in 'her office'. My slot was at one o clock, the first appointment after lunch. So in a bid to show that I understood about her focus on punctuality, I turned up a few minutes early.
I was quite surprised to see at just how quickly she had made the office her own. On her desk, there were two pictures of what I rightly took to be her children. A boy and a girl, both of whom looked to be in their midteens, which would put her in at least her mid thirties, though most likely a bit older.
It was not only her desk I noticed that she had customised, the filing cabinet also bore more little trinkets from home. Curiosity got the better of me, so I went over to have a look at what was there.

Then my heart leapt in my mouth, sitting in the middle of the top of the cabinet lay a paddle. It was made to look like a decorative piece, but it's thickness gave it away as being a real 'stinger'.
The blade, the business end, was about twelve inches long, by about four inches wide. The blade was also drilled out, five holes, each hole holding a small shot glass. The handle bore the legend, 'bottoms up, or a rosy tail!' it also had a little drawing of a red bare bottom on it, just in case it's intended usage was in any doubt.

"That's a paddle in case you were wondering." A voice whispered in my ear, so close that I felt her breath, causing me to jump suddenly.

"Er...er I'm sorry, I wasn't being nosey." I lied as I turned to face Jennifer.

"It's OK....Jennifer," She said, as she checked her appointment rota. "So we share the same name, do you prefer Jennifer or....."

"Er...I usually get called Jenni." I stuttered out, feeling my face burn up at being caught redhanded snooping in her office.

"I see my little novelty decoration caught your attention?"

"Yes well sort of miss...sorry, Jennifer."

I could now see that she was actively enjoying my discomfort, the little smile that she was trying to suppress was given away by the twinkling in her eyes.

"Do you know what it's for?"

I nodded glumly: as somewhere in the back of my head, I madly half expected her to ask me to bend over her desk, and the knowledge that I would of done made my embarrassment worse.

"Really? I'm surprised at that; I always thought that paddles were only a USA thing."

"Well some schools used the paddle, you know, private schools."

She then made a really big deal about reading my printed out personnel file, as we both stood there.

"Oh...I see you went to a private school. Was that one of the schools you were referring to?"

I nodded, knowing only too well what the next question would be.

"They ever have cause to paddle you?"

Again I glumly nodded, then said.

"Just the once."

Smiling like a cat who got the cream, she then said.

"So you were a naughty girl back then, but not very naughty, just a little naughty?"

"Yeah, I guess so." I replied, really just wanting to be out of the office, to be out of the building even.

"Please Jenni, take a seat." She told me, still with that knowing smile upon her face. "It was a gift from some colleagues in New York. They presented it to me as a leaving present, sort of reminder of a drunken night out, though I have been told that that paddle really hurts," She said, motioning with her head towards the filing cabinet. "though I wouldn't know myself, but I have been reliably informed that it does. Anyway enough idle chitter-chatter, let's get down to business."

How the rest of the meeting went I haven't a clue, I must have smiled and nodded in all the right places, but my mind was on autopilot. All I could think of was that damned paddle, and Jennifer's voice saying 'so you were a naughty girl', 'that paddle really hurts' and 'I wouldn't know myself', those three phrases on a loop in my head.
After I left her office, all that afternoon I just thought of Jennifer and her paddle.


In fairness to Jennifer, she did seem to know what she was doing, she selected new areas for us to move into in a bid to capture some of the state controlled business. If anything, her being in the building seemed to bolster up our hitherto poor morale. Though Mr Nightly did not seem to enjoy her presence as much as the rest of us did, but if he had been doing his job in the first place there would have been no reason for Jennifer Dorset to have ever crossed our threshold.

So all seemed to be going well in the first fortnight of Jennifer's allotted span with us. Perhaps it was that sense of optimism that led to my being foolish, who knows.
All I do know is that I broke on of my own personal rules, nightclubbing on a weeknight!

I know; I'm in my mid-thirties, and I really should know better, but I just thought, 'what the hell I haven't seen a band for ages'. So I put on all my old grungy clothes and head off into town to see The Pigs Of Antioch, a Californian feminist punk band.
It was a great night, probably too great of a night, as always when out with Alice; the drinks flowed a little to freely, and the bathroom visits to 'powder our noses' were also a bit too frequent!

The next day at work I was a wreck, both mentally and physically. I was way too bad to hide the fact, as much as I tried to. Then it came the call that I had half been waiting for.

"Jenni, could you be a darling and pop into my office please." Jennifer said in a tone all way to sweet to be real.

As I entered her office I knew I was in trouble, I made to sit down, but was stopped sharply.

"Did I fucking tell you to take a seat?" Jennifer barked her sudden use of profanity shocking me.

"Er...no, sorry, Jennifer."

"Sorry! You come in here this morning still obviously drunk, knowing the state that this branch of the business is in. I've a good mind to sack you here and now...." She said calming down slightly. "but I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, if you promise that this is a one off thing?"

"Yes! I promise; I don't know what happened last night; I only meant to have a couple of drinks..but you know..." I gabbled out in relief.

Jennifer then sat in silence, her elbows resting upon her desk, both hands joined in front of her face, her fingers interlaced together. After studying her hands for what seemed like an age, she finally broke the heavy silence in the room.

"Of course you know some sort of punishment is still required?" She asked me, her blue eyes piercing into the back of my skull; no other words were needed, we both knew only too well what she meant.
I nodded, and then for god only knows what reason, I replied.

"Yes Miss."

Our positions were now both clearly delineated with my reply; I had just agreed to receive a paddling from my boss. My boss who was only about three years my senior!

"Right Jenni, I will draw up a legally binding release form to say that this action was taken at your request. Then this evening at six thirty you will meet me at the coffee shop on College Drive, which is only a short drive from my hotel OK?"

I nodded silently, and made to leave the room.

"Jenni, you have forgotten something," Jennifer said, rising from her desk then going over to the filing cabinet.

I couldn't believe it, as she then started removing the little glasses from inside the paddle. She then picked up the paddle and handed it to me.

"You will need this after all, won't you?"

I felt like crying there and then.

She expected me to bring the paddle to our meeting, not only that, but she wanted me to walk out of her office with it in my hand. To walk out of her office for all my colleagues to see!
Reluctantly I took it from her and pushed it up inside my blouse, much to her amusement. I left the office and rushed back to my desk, quickly stuffing the paddle into my bag.

The afternoon both dragged and rushed by, half of me wanted to get tonight over with; half of me dreaded the evening. Even though I have a subbie side to me which I cannot deny, it is always in a 'play' environment, a real paddling was not on my wish list. Least of all one from my female boss.
Once I got home I quickly showered and dressed, the last thing I wanted to be was to be late. My clothes, now there was a problem in it's self, what to wear. I somewhat optimistically put on the fullest cut panties that I could find in my underwear drawer. Then a nice pair of thick denim jeans, I had an inkling that these items would not be in place for my punishment, but a girl can hope can't she?

I got across town to the coffee shop four minutes early, to my surprise Jennifer wasn't there yet, so I ordered a black Americano and sat and waited. I was thinking about how that paddle felt as I had put it into my purse; it was so heavy, the thought of its crashing across my bottom filled me with dread.
Then my thoughts were interrupted, my heart skipped a beat or two as I saw Danny, one of the younger sales guys from our office walk in. Our eyes connected in mutual horror; then we both realised almost simultaneously that Jennifer had double booked!

No sooner had Danny sat down next to me, placing a large plastic bag by his side, then Jennifer breezed into the shop.
We both sat in a doomed silence, as Jennifer ordered and collected her drink from the counter and came across to us.

"Ah, very good you both got here in time," She said as she sat down at our table, then opened her bag and pulled out two sheets of paper, and handed one to each of us. "you can both sign, and then countersign these. As you will both be each others witnesses, witnesses in every respect."

Danny and I both signed our own forms, then signed each others, though the legality of these forms seemed at the very least rather dubious.
Jennifer sat smiling between sips of her coffee as she watched us swap papers.

"Danny my dear, did you get the shopping that I asked you to get?" Jennifer asked; I noticed Danny's face pale at her question.

"Yes Miss, I have it here." He replied pointing at the black bag by his side; I noticed that he had also started to call Jennifer 'Miss'.

"Well let me see it then."

Danny passed Jennifer the bag with his hand visibly shaking. As Jennifer looked inside the bag, her face lit up with a huge smile.

"Good boy!" She said, and then added. "I wonder just how long it will be needed for...I bet you are wondering too eh?"

Danny did not answer; he merely stared at the floor, and as for me, I didn't have a clue as to what they were even talking about.
Jennifer's hotel was just a two minute drive from the coffee shop, or rather I should say her suite was a two minute drive. With her being here on a long stay, the company had booked her into a one bedroom suite.
As soon as we entered Jennifer turned on the TV, no doubt in an attempt to drown out the forthcoming noise of the paddle. She just seemed to have hit a random button, and it was a sports channel that came on, you know to this very day I can't watch downhill skiing in the same light!
For all that I was nervous, Danny looked to be plain miserable as the two of us stood in the small living area awaiting our instructions. Though we did not have to wait very long, no sooner had Jennifer turned on the TV, and taken off her long red coat, then she said.

"Right now, I want no arguing or false modesty here OK, just both of you get naked from the waist down. Now!"

I had been half expecting the instruction, but even so I had hoped against it, now all that hope was gone. Both Danny and I seemed to move in a belaboured fashion, neither of wanting to be the first to be naked, well semi naked to be precise.
Now I know this may sound voyeuristic but I defy anyone in the same situation to do any different. As I stripped down, my eyes were glued to Danny, let's be honest about this; no woman is going to miss the chance to see what a good looking and much younger male colleague looks like with his trousers and pants off.
So I admit it; I stared.
I stared and was disappointed.

I guess unless you live with a guy longterm; you never get to see 'his thing' totally relaxed, it's always just before, or just after sex that you see him down below.
So it was a bit of a shock for me to see his completely flaccid member, I'm not that good at guessing sizes, but it would have been less than three inches. Now Michelangelo's statue of David made more sense to me, I had always thought the statue to be very small in an important department. Looking at Danny, I could now see that it was more life like than I ever imagined.

Danny for his part seemed to be giving me no attention at all, which I have to admit piqued me in an odd way. I've always been careful about what I ate, and exercised regularly so, despite my age, I'm still pretty slim, even if I do say so myself!

His lack of attention quickly became secondary when Jennifer spoke again.

"This is going to be this evening's order of play," She announced, way to cheerfully for my liking. "Jenni you are due ten pops of the paddle."

Ten pops!

I was stunned by this announcement, ten pops on the bare ass, with that paddle!

"That is five for being late, and five for coming into work still drunk. Danny you will receive five pops for your lateness, plus another penalty for saying over the phone to one of your pals, 'oh the new boss is OK, but a bit miserable at times. A good ass fucking would put her right, and maybe make her smile'. I think that was the gist of what I heard you say wasn't it "

I looked open mouthed as Danny nodded, now a picture of pure misery.

"Jenni, you will be first. You will bend over the arm of the sofa to receive your first five pops; then you and Danny can change places with each other."

I took up my place over the arm of the red sofa, wondering just what Danny's second punishment was going to be, amazed that he could be stupid enough to say such a thing within Jennifer's earshot.
Then my wondering was halted, as without warning the paddle slammed into my proffered rear end. The pain was incredible; a hot fiery blaze shot across my left butt cheek. I closed my eyes waiting for it to subside, but it didn't subside, the heat just built up more.
Then the second whack landed, this time it was my right cheek that felt like it was on fire.
I gritted my teeth, awaiting the third.

"Don't you dare touch that!" I heard Jennifer shout at Danny. "Get your hands behind your back this instant!"

That fed my exhibitionist pride, knowing that I did indeed have Danny's attention made me feel strangely better about my situation. I know that it may seem a bit off the wall to some of you, but the thought of a nineteen year old tugging himself as he watched my ass get a tanning really turned me on!

I then felt the paddle brush against my left cheek, two little aiming taps, I braced myself. Then I shrieked out in shock as the paddle landed upon my right cheek instead, plum over the already burning area!
The next two whacks followed immediately, both upon that self same area.

"Right Jenni, get up!" Jennifer ordered me.

Dewy eyed, and feeling that one ass cheek was four times the size of the other, I struggled back up to my feet.
The fact that Danny's cock was now growing engorged cheered me slightly. Though he was still not yet fully erect, his cock shaft was at least twice it's earlier size!

Without being told, Danny almost threw himself over the arm of the sofa.

His paddling was quick, harsh, and over in what seemed like half the time of mine, though of course when you are waiting for another beating, time does sort of distort in your mind.

When he arose; his cock was pointing straight at the ceiling; his face though was deathly pale, in what could only be described as sheer dread.

"Back over Jenni!" Jennifer said, her cheerfulness now becoming really annoying.

This batch of five were delivered in rapid fire, all upon my left cheek, though the fact that the pain was now uniform across my derriere did not help any, as I was sobbing by the time the fourth, or the ninth depending which way you look at it, landed.

After giving me a moment or two to compose myself, Jennifer then invited me to rise from the sofa for the second time.

"Jenni, be an angel, please," Jennifer said, her voice was now saccharin sweet. "Danny seems to be in a state of excitement, which is no good for what I have planned for him. Could you rectify that for me please...with your mouth."


I took a moment or two for her request, or was it an order, to sink in. She wanted me to suck Danny off!

I immediately realised it was neither an order nor a request; it was a challenge. She like many others had made the mistake of thinking because of my looks, short hair and pierced nose, that I was a lesbian. Other than the 'odd dalliance' I have always been heterosexual, so this was no challenge at all.
I knelt down in front of Danny, and ran my tongue up the length of his shaft before gently encasing his glans in my mouth. I heard, and felt, Danny gasp as I took in his manhood, his fingers touched the back of my head briefly before Jennifer called out.

"Hands back behind you back young man!"

Now, he was completely at my disposal as I worked at his cock, my fingers clutched slightly at his ball sack causing him to jump. That answered my curiosity; all men are sensitive to touch in that area, some though are super-sensitive. So releasing his dick from my mouth, I ran my tongue this time down his shaft till I reached his scrotum, then taking one testicle in my mouth; I bit ever so gently upon it; my teeth barely even moving to meet each other.
I felt the shudder run through him as he gasped out loudly, more loudly than he gasped through his paddling.
Then as I took his again back to my mouth, I heard him gasp out.

"Jenni...I'll tell you when I'm about...."

"You will do no such thing Danny!" Jennifer interrupted him. "Don't you know that a girl likes a surprise? Plus I need Jenni to milk you dry."

Still not knowing what significance was meant by 'I need Jenni to milk you dry'; I happily continued on my mission. What with the hot feeling in my ass, and having a young guy's cock in my mouth, I was now getting more than a little agitated myself. So I slipped my fingers down between my legs, no sooner had my thumb found my clit than I heard Jennifer's voice.

"Jenni, I asked you to suck him dry, not for you to wank yourself!"

I so hate that English word; it just sounds so plain dirty, and embarrassing doesn't it?
More so when someone has just caught you doing it!

So I continued with my job at hand or rather in mouth. I knew that Danny was near his point of release, as now he was bucking his hips forward, forcing himself deeper into my mouth. For the want of a better phrase, he was face-fucking me.
Then I felt it as he came the hot spurt of semen shot to the roof of my mouth. I could now taste his essence on my tongue, a salty, meaty metallic tang.
Not forgetting my instructions, I sucked him till he was completely flaccid between my lips.

Then I sat back, my still painful buttocks resting upon my calves.

"Here Jenni, while you are down there you can deal with this!" Jennifer said, as a small box landed between myself, and Danny, she then placed a soup bowl full of water down on the floor. "If he should start to get hard again, just dip his balls in this, it's been in the fridge now all day, so it is icy cold!"

I picked up the box, and looked at it, it was a male chastity cage!

Now I really was in unknown territory, although I had an idea of how male belts worked, OK, I admit it I watch the odd kinky video!
I had not a clue of how to fit one, luckily the instructions were pretty comprehensive. So in no time at all I had the ring that went around the base of his cock, and behind his balls fitted. Getting the little plastic cage lined up, and around his cock, was both tricky for me, and going by his grunts, rather painful for Danny!
It was also a strange experience, to be holding, and manipulating a totally flaccid cock. More so to be doing it with the end result of orgasm denial in mind. Stranger still when I could still taste his last orgasm, for who knows how long to come, upon my tongue.
Through time though I got it all in place, so now Danny's limp cock was caged, and pointing down towards the floor, all without me having to revert to an icy ball bath. I snapped the padlock shut, as I handed the keys to Jennifer Danny give out a little defeated moan.

"Thank you Jenni," She said, with her usual smile, as if I was handing her a coffee. "you see I took young Danny boys foul talking very much to heart. Luckily he hasn't got a girlfriend at the moment, so he will be no big miss to womankind in that respect. Also though it will stop him having any...should we say...solo fun. No fun for Danny boy till I decide otherwise...it could be tomorrow, it could be in six weeks time. It's that uncertainty that makes it all so sweet isn't it Danny?"

Needless to say, there was no reply from Danny, he was to busy contemplating his miserable situation.

"Now Danny, I want you back over the sofa arm, arse right up in the air! Jenni you can get dressed and go now!" Jennifer said, her voice as amiable as always.

As I got dressed, I noticed Jennifer pull something out of a drawer by the side of the sofa. As she fiddled about with some sort of harness, I realised that Danny's punishment was going to be poetic justice.
The strap on dildo that Jennifer was now lubing was a good eight inches long, and it's girth was proportionate to it's length!
I dressed hurriedly and left, as I had no inclination to witness Danny's ultimate debasement.


THE END

PS After that evening, Danny and I rarely spoke, no doubt he somewhat resented me for locking him in such a way, and maybe saw me as the one who had brought about his orgasm denial. Also, there would have been an element of shame, me knowing that he had been butt pegged with a strap-on.
So I have no idea how long his time in chastity lasted for. Also, I have no idea how many, if any, other colleagues of mine visited Jennifer's suite after signing a release form.
What I do know is that she increased our sales, and saved our office from closure!




Monday, 7 July 2014

Evolution

When I first wrote these two stories, they were meant to be read in a specific order. Though they are both stand alone tales, they both feature the same female protagonist. So, I have decided to re-post them in the order that way were originally planned for.
They are meant to show the evolution from spankee to spanker. (Well that's the idea anyway.)





THE GIRL WITH THE STING IN HER HAIR


Do you like art?

It's a question you hear being asked often, usually answered with something along the lines of, "well I know what I like".

Well I do like art, and I do know what I like.

So when I found out that Abigail Williams had an exhibition of her work, and works that have inspired her on in town, I knew I had to go. You see Abigail Williams' work has always struck a chord with me, let's just say that it falls into a certain genre.
An accomplished artist and illustrator, her work, has featured in many magazines and on the covers of many books. Not exactly mainstream and she will never be a household name, but like i said, I know what I like, and I like erotic CP art. So when to go? I want a time that will be quiet; I would obviously prefer not to have too many people around as I indulge my artistic tastes. So I decide that the best plan of action would be to book a day's holiday in at work, and to go on a Wednesday morning. Be at the gallery for it opening, it should be nice and quiet then.
I pay my five pounds entrance fee, and politely refuse the offer of a three pound program, if you have to read about the painting to understand it then it isn't a very good painting in my view anyway. I slowly amble my way through the exhibition, a great deal of line drawings, showing girls in various states of undress, undergoing various types of corporal punishment, with an assortment implements.
It is actually a sensory overload, in a magazine, or on the book rack any of these drawings would elicit a reaction from me. Set out like this though, it is all just to much, no focal point, a disappointment really. Then halfway around the exhibition I come to the section of artworks that Abigail has found inspiration from. Many speak for themselves, contrite girls looking in awe at an authority figure etc.

Then I come to an odd print, a picture that looks like it doesn't belong here at all, I stop and stare, trying to work out it's relevance. It looks like it would be more at home on a chocolate box, or as a poster for the Montana tourist board. It is a picture of a Bald Eagle swooping across a snow covered woodland scene, with a little cabin in the background. I stare harder trying to find the relevance, when I hear a voice by my side.

"Can't figure it huh?"

I turn around to see a girl, well a woman really, by my side. I would guess, and I'm hopeless at this, a woman of around her late twenties or early thirties. Shorter than me but not by much, she would be just under six foot and well made, blue eyes and full lips. It was her hair though that was really striking, black and loads of it; her head was a mass of raven hair held back and tamed by two large beaded hair ties.

"Well it does seem a bit out of place doesn't it?" I reply, trying to force a smile.

"Not if you read the program," she says, and I realise that she is American, "it's all pretty much explained in there."

"Programs? I didn't see that they had programs." I lied pitifully, trying to hide my skinflint nature.

The girl burst out laughing, and put her hand out to me. "I'm Abigail," she said as we shook hands, and I felt even worse about not shelling out the three pounds on the program.

Reluctantly I give her my name knowing only to well she will pronounce it as Hairy, and I am anything but hairy.

To be honest I always thought that Abigail Williams was really a man, due to the fact that all her work was of a male dominant nature. It was quite refreshing to see that she was what she made herself out to be, unusual in the world of smoke and mirrors that is the BDSM scene.

"The painting is a reminder of what was for me a life changing week," she says conversationally, "it was the week that I discovered my submissive side. That week changed my outlook on my life and sexuality forever."

I never fail to be amazed at American's candidness about their feeling's, totally lacking our British repressive nature that is released usually only by copious amounts of alcohol.

"You see," she continued. "this setting is almost a snapshot of my life, I saw the print and I just had to buy it. For me, it is full of hidden symbols and memories."

I smile, though still not knowing what she was talking about, as she talks I notice her constantly fiddling with the red beading in her hair.

"I was one of the girls in that cabin, back in my co-ed college Girl Scout venturing days. The eagle to me represents the Eagle Scouts, who were our trainers, the light is a mystery, is it dawn or is it moonlight, what do you think, Harry?"

I'm lost as to what to say, but this young Bohemian girl fascinates me.

"I don't know; the light seems so white," I say. "the reflection on the water seems more like moonlight."

"Mmm. Sometimes I think that too, then other days I look and I think it is like a new dawn. I imagine it's breakfast time, and the three of us are getting ready to face a new day, and all that it may bring," Abigail said, her face taking on a dreamy look, as if she was being transported to some other place, somewhere back in her lifetime, her face was almost aglow.

"I call it 'The Outpost, A New Awakening', I don't know what the real name for it is."

I nod slowly feeling that I'm being made privilege to someone's innermost emotions.

"So you like my work?" she asks, snapping herself back from wherever she had been in her minds eye.

"Yes very much so, it... it ticks all my boxes." I reply.

"Really, all of them?"

"Pretty much so."

Is she trying to flirt with me or am I just flattering myself, I wonder, I'm so hopeless at flirting and recognizing it.

"I feel flat these days," she says, still playing with her hair, "I'm lacking inspiration, the time in the outpost was life changing, and inspired me to travel along a certain path. By that, I mean artistically and sexually, now though I'm reaching that time in my life that I feel I need something new. I think I'm having an early midlife crisis."

She burst out giggling at her last remark, but her laughter seemed somewhat hollow. "How do you mean?" I ask her, now completely enthralled by her.

"All my work, as you can see for yourself is female submissive, the depictions of all these girls are projections of myself. Now though I feel a yearning to be on the other side of things, if you know what I mean?" Her eyes now had a flashing sparkle to them, and her hair fiddling seemed to be reaching a new height.

"Yeah, I know what you mean, variety being the spice of life and all that." I say trying to flirt back at her.

"I don't want to sound rude, Harry," She said making my heart sink, as this is always a precursor to someone being rude. "but you look like you would be of that age when corporal punishment was pretty much par for the course."

"Yes your right, I am." I tell her wondering where this is going.

"Were you a bad boy in school?"

"Yes I was, I was a very naughty boy." I say laughing, thinking this is like chat room flirting.

"You get caned then?"

"A few times, but more often the strap was the preferred implement, at least by the teachers anyway."

"That must have been good for you, you know with... er... our tastes?"

"No, not at all," I tell her, feeling my face starting to flush. "at school it was always male teachers, not my thing at all."

"Shame it's mine." she said now with genuine laughter. "So was it bare butt?"

"No," I say, now I'm laughing to. "that's just in the mags, and the books. The cane was on the clothed behind; the strap was on the hands."

"Bet you fantasised about some of your girly teachers giving it to you though?" she asked, staring intently into my eyes as she fiddled with her hair tie.

"Yes, on more than one occasion it kept my adolescent mind busy." I say holding her stare.

She nodded slowly at my answer, then looked around the empty gallery. She motioned her head for me to follow her. After leading me to a small alcove towards the rear of the room she said. "Show me."

"Show you what?" I asked, again puzzled but now also aroused by our talk.

"Show me how you would hold your hand out for the strap." She said flatly, her right hand still working at her mass of hair.

Feeling foolish and aroused in equal measure, I put out my left hand at just below shoulder height, for some reason my hand was shaking as I did so. She smiled, then in one fluid movement her right hand flew at speed from her head. Then I felt the pain sear across my palm. Stunned I withdrew my hand and looked at her. "What the....!"

"Shh..!" She replied cutting me short, and I notice in her hand was the red beaded hair tie, the hair tie was actually a small whip.

"Hand back out boy." She ordered, meekly I complied.

Waiting for the lash coming back down.

"It's OK, I just wanted to see if you were genuine, or just pulling my chain." Abigail said, threading the whip back into her hair. "Some guys pretend that they are into the scene just to get sex. That's my little test, if you hadn't put your hand back up I would have just blown you out."

"And now?" I ask.

"Now we go back to my hotel, if you want to of course."

"For more... of that?" I ask feeling rather stupid pointing at her head.

"Mmm... maybe, did you like the Evil Stick then?"

Looking down at the thin red stinging line on my hand, I was not sure how to answer.

"Don't worry I'll be gentle," she said a sarcastic smile on her face, "well not too gentle."

Standing next to the gallery reception, I took my chance to have a closer look at this mysterious artist as she phoned for a taxi. In profile she had an almost angular look to her face, prominent nose and jaw line, yet full on her face was heart shaped and much softer, less aquiline looking. As I said she was quite a big girl, more solid than fat though quite powerful looking, though still feminine. Watching me study her she looked out from the small office and gave me a mouthed two minutes sign and smiled. What was today going to bring, I wondered?
The taxi arrived, and we both climbed into the back, Abigail giving my hand a gentle squeeze as she told the driver our destination. Once in the hotel she seemed to change, to drop into her part.

"Coffee first, I think," she said, "get me a large espresso, we can take them out onto the terrace."

No, please or thank you, just a statement of fact. Getting the drinks, I bring them out onto the open air terrace overlooking the river and the bridges. Sitting down and without thinking I pull out my cigarettes, and offer one to Abigail.

"No thank you, I don't smoke," she says looking at me with a twinkle in her eye, "I dare bet they got you the cane in school?"

"No," I reply half laughing. "but I did get the strap a few times for smoking. I only ever got caned for truancy and fighting."

"Fighting? So you were a very naughty boy back then." I smile and nod, draining her cup she says, "well we had better see to your naughtiness then." She rose from her seat, and like Mary's little lamb I followed. As we got into the lift, she said. "Outpost. That is your safe word should you need it."

No sooner had we got into the room than Abigail sat on the edge of the double bed and patted her lap. "A spanking first for lying to me I think."

"Lying?"

"Yes lying, I know for a fact that you were offered a program by the receptionist at the gallery."

Busted! I thought to myself, as I made to drape myself over her skirt covered thighs.

"No, no, no, Harry, this is going to be a Southern style spanking, you aren't at school now. I want you over my knee bare butt."

Now all of a sudden nerves kicked in, it's one thing to be in a state of semi nakedness with a strange woman. Another thing altogether when the said woman is fully clothed!
With my fingers shaking slightly I fumbled with the button flies on my jeans. As quickly as possible I pull down my jeans and boxers. Then almost launch myself over her lap, to minimise her view of my genitals. Now I feel foolish, fifty years old and waiting to be spanked. I didn't have to wait long; her hand came down quickly on my behind, as I thought; this girl has a bit of power behind her. She was treating my buttock cheeks like a pair of bongos, drumming out a quick samba beat. In fact, it wasn't too bad, least, not for the first minute or two.

Then the heat started to build up, I found myself twisting a bit on her lap, all this did was encourage her to change her target area. Now the tops of my thighs, and the inner parts of my upper legs were coming under her barrage. For someone who claimed never to have topped before, she was quite skillful in her delivery, no stray blows hitting my genitals, all her strikes reaching the target with unerring accuracy. I felt that my bottom and thighs were on fire.

"This will do as a start," she said, "then we have your other problem to sort out. I'll see if I can do any better than your teachers did at ridding you of that filthy habit."

"Yes, Miss!" I almost holler, finally falling into my role.

Then she stopped her barrage. "Right stand up!"

I obeyed her command.

" Hands on your head."

Again I complied; both of us now aware now of my growing erection.

"Go to that wardrobe, you will see a pair of flip-flops at the bottom of it. Bring me one here, my hand is almost as red as your bottom."

As I waddle across the room, my lowered clothing hindering my walking, I catch a glimpse of my glowing aching cheeks in the dressing table mirror. I find the shoe and bring it back to Abigail.

Tapping my cock with the shoe, she says, "You had better go to the bathroom and fetch a towel, I don't want that to go off over my skirt."

Red faced I waddle off to the bathroom, each step making me feel more foolish. Returning to her, she motions for me to place the towel over her thighs, as I arise from bending over to place the towel, my cock is now right in front of her eyes pointing to the ceiling, bobbing to it's own rhythm.

"Over you go, Harry, this is going to hurt because it has to," she tells me flatly.

She was right as well it did hurt; she brought down the flip-flop in the same style as she had spanked me, fast and accurate. After two minutes or so - though it felt like longer- I was on the verge of shouting "outpost", when she stopped.

"Up you get, I think that was a lesson well learned." She told me.

I struggle to my feet, the urge to grab at my bottom almost irresistible, almost. I place my hands on my head, this time unbidden. She is training me well.

"I bet you would like me to do something about that?" She said pointing at my erection.

"Yes, Miss I would."

Her left hand goes to her hair and pulls out one of the beaded ties. This time I can see it properly, it is about a foot long in total length, the whip part made of some sort of nylon or polycarbonate. "Well if you can take six strokes with the Evil Stick without calling out the safe word, you can have me," she said her eyes now sparkling more than ever. "Do you think you can take that, mind you I won't be holding back?"

"Yes, Miss." I reply nodding vigorously.

Laughing she gets to her feet and arranges the pillows on the bed for me to go over. For my comfort, or to offer up a better target?

Who knows.

I place myself over her makeshift whipping bench. It can't be too bad I think to myself, as she has well and truly warmed me up, maybe even to the point of numbness. I was so, so, wrong. The little whip wamps across me, and both in shock and pain I howl out. She waited, so we could both savour the effect of her hair tie. Then comes the second blow, I howl again, my fingers digging at the bedclothes as I only just stop myself from rising. Again a long wait, and I hear her move around behind me. Then she appears at the head of the bed, something pink in her hand.

I realise it is her balled up panties.

"Open wide!" She orders me and I open my mouth, and she pops the underwear into my mouth.

I can taste the tanginess of her on my gag.

"That should help keep you quite, if you want me to stop pull them out and shout," she says giggling at my plight.

Did I pull them out and give in to her?
No, I held on and took the other four strokes, though she didn't make them any easier.
Did she keep her word?
Yes, she did.
Will I tell you about it?
No, I'm too much of a gentleman for that lets just say it was a long afternoon.

A few weeks later, while looking at the Paris exhibition of Abigail's work on the Internet, I notice that some of the pictures are different. Now there are quite a few drawings of a femdom nature, also alongside the picture of the Bald Eagle in the snow, there now hangs a print of the Tyne Bridge at dawn.






THE OUTPOST, A NEW AWAKENING


What you are about to read is Abigail's story, as she told it to me. I'm writing it as best as I can from memory, I apologise in advance for any minor details that I may get wrong. As I said, I'm writing this from memory, not from notes or from tapes, just what I recall her telling me that afternoon in the hotel on the banks of the Tyne. Some of the things she told me I found a little confusing, I'm not that familiar with the scouting movement in England, let alone that of the U.S.A.. So I hope you will bear with me on certain details that I may get incorrect, it is not that I wish to deceive.


Abigail had left high school and was waiting to go to college, when she had a chance to go on a venturing course. There were few things further from her mind than a venturing course. She never even wanted to join the GSUSA in the first place, but she was cajoled into it by her mother. Not that her mother was strict with her, in many ways Abigail would have preferred a strict mom to complain and bitch about, but no that was not Mrs. Williams style. She preferred just to moan and whine at Abigail, till like sea erosion she eventually got her way.

"Scouting would be an excellent extra-curricular activity, it will look good on your college applications." Because as she always liked to remind Abigail. "you can't just rely on exam results, not with your grades you can't!"

Abigail knew that her mom meant well, all she ever wanted was for her to have the breaks that she hadn't had. So Mrs. Williams had tried to map out a path for her daughter, but being the lone parent of a one parent family it was not all plain sailing, as she reminded her daughter at every given opportunity. Abigail started to think at a very early age that it was no surprise that her dad ran off the way he did, putting up with her mom would try the patience of even the holiest of saints. Never mind that of a "drunken fornicator," as her mom would fondly call her father. With him moving from New Mexico to Maine, meant that Abigail rarely saw her father, so she lacked the influence of having a significant male figure in her life. The lack of which manifested itself in a strange way; she had crushes on nearly all her male tutors at high school, not that unusual in itself you would think. Most girls have a little crush here and there, but Abigail's were more intense, and not sexual in nature. She was - though she didn't realise it at the time - searching for a surrogate father figure. While most of her school friends lusted after the younger staff members, Abigail gravitated to what at best could be called the more mature. Anyone less than forty just didn't do it for her.

Do what for her though? That was another puzzle, as she never saw herself wrapped in some tutors arms's, never mind his bed. She saw herself perhaps going on a fishing trip, or around museums, then sharing french fries in McDonalds. She knew by what she had heard the other girls saying, that these were not typical teen fantasies, so she kept quiet about them. As for her other fantasies, the darker, kinkier ones, were just too strange ever to voice to another living soul, weren't they?

So it was decided that before college it was off to Alaska for her on a venturing course, to study the migratory patterns of the Bald Eagle.

Whoopee!

If nothing else though it would give her a chance to indulge in her real passion, painting and drawing. So that is how she found herself at Fairbanks airport, with two holdalls and her drawing case, waiting for her transport to the bleak outdoors to arrive. When it did arrive she was in for a shock, well two in fact. The first one was that they would be staying in a cabin up in the White Mountains, and not in a large hostel as she had expected. The second was that there would be only three of them at the scout station, herself, another girl and the driver. The driver was Mr. Longley, no first name forthcoming from him, just Mr. Longley.

Mr Longley was a senior scoutmaster in the Eagle Scouts; it was an Eagle Scout station that they would be staying in, and he wasn't that happy at having two nineteen year old girl scouts living in, even if it was for only for a couple of weeks. The drive took an hour and a half, through some of the most spectacular forests she had ever seen, for his part Mr. Longley was pleasant enough. He explained that rather than waiting for the other girl to arrive, he would take Abigail out to the cabin first then return to the airport later to pick up Susanna. When they reached the "outpost" it wasn't what Abigail had expected, though in reality she didn't know what to expect. Seated in the forest by the side of a river sat a little log cabin, her new home for the next fortnight. Getting out of the pickup truck, she looked around and saw that it was an artist's paradise, the surroundings, the river, the light they were all perfect!

"Maybe this won't be so bad?" She thought to herself.

After Mr. Longley had made some coffee, he showed her to the room that Abigail and Susanna would be sharing. Like the rest of the cabin, the room was very basic. The furniture consisted of two bunk beds, a small writing desk, a chair, and a red sofa that had seen better days. For storage there was two old-fashioned style trunks, the floor was bare polished boarding with a sheepskin rug by the side of the bed. Abigail claimed the top bunk by placing her bags on it, then as Mr. Longley went back to the airport Abigail went outside to explore her new surroundings, and the little river by the side of the cabin. The sound of a vehicle approaching told her that her venturing partner was here. As she got back to the cabin, Mr. Longley and Susanna were just getting out of the car. Mr. Longley looked at Abigail and shook his head, raising his eyes skyward, in an odd fashion that confused Abigail till Susanna spoke.

"Hi! You must be Abby? Mr. Longford tells me you paint and stuff. Wow! That must be like great, being all talented and stuff?" Susanna spurted out, her china white teeth on full view with her well practiced false smile.

"My name is Longley, not Longford." Mr. Longley wearily corrected the new arrival.

"Duh! I'm so hopeless with names, but I'll remember now for sure! God isn't it like so cold here, who'd think this was the same country as California, mind you it gets cold in California sometimes, well up in the mountains anyway, I'm not from the mountains, I'm from the San Fernando Valley, do you like LA, God it's like the best place ever!" Susanna replied in her machine gun voice.

Abigail could only imagine what the journey from the airport must have been like for poor Mr. Longley, the look he had just given her was now entirely explained. As they made their way to the cabin, Susanna managed to talk non-stop, about seemingly nothing, to try and preserve Mr. Longley's sanity Abigail said.

"Susanna I'll show you to our room, and help you settle in."

As they entered their room, Abigail could see that Susanna was less than impressed by her new surroundings.

"Whoa, bunk beds! Er I don't know about you, but I just so totally can't do bunk beds!" Susanna almost shouted in indignation. "I like can't have the bottom one because I'm really so claustrophobic and the top one I'd like never get to sleep cause I'd be awake worrying about rolling out onto the floor. Ahhh! What's that? Some like dead animal for a carpet that's just too grody!"

Abigail then watched as Susanna stormed out of the room to confront Mr. Longley. If Abigail made an unlikely and reluctant scout, Susanna was off the planet. Abigail recognised her type; she was one of the "popular" girls, high up the high school food chain, not like Abigail, who tended to be more of one of the "nerdy" girls. How Susanna ended up here became apparent as she eavesdropped the heated conversation taking place in the adjoining living room. When all came to all Susanna was never the intended recipient of this chance in the wilderness. The girl who was supposed to have come had fallen ill last week with her appendix, rather than let the place go the school offered the opportunity up to any of the other scouts. Susanna never one to let a free "holiday" go by, put her name forward, and with a lot of wrangling by her parents she was duly sent to Fairbanks. After a half hour or so of Susanna's nonsensical whining, Mr. Longley agreed to let her have his room for the night, and tomorrow morning he would go to the main scout's hostel in town and get a camp bed for her to use in their bedroom.
For tonight, he would sleep on the floor in the living room with a sleeping bag; it was a compromise that Abigail could see he was not best pleased about making. The evening meal was pleasant enough, but the atmosphere in the room was at best tense. Abigail was glad when it was late enough for her to retire to bed, sleep though did not come easy. In those days, Abigail never slept that well in strange surroundings; it was a case of dozing then waking with a start all night. After about her third sudden awakening she had an enormous thirst, the wood fire fuelled radiators had thoroughly dried her mouth, and she knew further sleep would be impossible without a drink of water first.

As quiet as possible, she climbed down from her bunk and padded towards her door. She knew that to get to the kitchen; she would first have to pass through the communal living area where Mr. Longley was sleeping. As quiet as a mouse she sneaked through her door and tiptoed to the kitchen door. The roaring log fire lit up the room, and as she looked towards it, there was Mr. Longley. He lay with his back towards her, his front facing the fire, the warmth from the fire must have gotten to him as had unzipped his sleeping bag. So there he lay naked and asleep. Much as Abigail wanted not to, she stood there staring at him. For someone of his age, his body was still quite trim, and powerful looking, broad shoulders and back tapering down to a firm looking bare bottom. The longer she stared at him, the drier her mouth became, then what would happen if he awoke?
She would be caught looking, what would he say, what would he do? The delicious options that sprang to her mind brought back all her long hidden high school fantasies. She snapped herself back into the real world and quickly got her water, then returned to her bed. Sleep was still hard for her, but for very much different reasons now.

The next morning breakfast was another frosty affair; Abigail was silent racked with guilt at her nocturnal peeking. Susanna was still brooding that she was even here at all. Mr. Longley looked like he would be a lot happier in a female free zone. Then over the radio - their only form of "entertainment" in the cabin - came a severe weather warning for the area.

"Well, I'll have to leave now before the weather closes in," Mr. Longley informed the two girls, "outside there is a lean-to with a load of logs that need chopping. I was going to do it this morning, but I can't now, so you two will have to do it while I'm away, or we'll have no fire!" With that Mr. Longley left for town, the two girls looked at each other, Abigail was the first to speak.

"I want to go and do a little sketching, so if you do half the chopping I'll do the rest when I get back?"

"Yeah whatever!" Replied the sleepy Susanna.

Abigail then got herself wrapped up, and grabbing her sketching pad headed upstream only too glad to get out of the cabin. She wandered along a rough forest trail, looking for a good vantage point to try and catch on paper some of her magnificent surroundings. Time flew by as she walked upstream, finally finding a point that suited her she sat down and started drawing. She was concentrating so much on the little river; she didn't see the sky turning to a light pink. She did however notice the first small flakes fall on her sketchpad.

"Time to head back I think!" She said aloud to herself, as she packed up her pencils. Then the little flakes, turned to larger flakes some almost the size of her fingernails, and now they weren't so rare, they were falling like confetti at a wedding. The snow was now falling at a terrifying rate, in only a matter of minutes it seemed that inches had hit the ground. Abigail was now in a state of panic; as she realised that she was lost, the track had now gone completely under the blanket of white crystalline snow. She struggled through the trees trying to find the riverbank, eventually she regained her bearings as the night was starting to close in. She could see the lights of the cabin just up ahead, looking at her watch she saw that she had been away for six hours. Then just as she reached the doorway she heard the sound of Mr. Longley's truck returning. Tired and hungry she almost fell through the doorway, to see a sleeping Susanna on an armchair in front of the fire.

"Suzi! Suzi!" Abigail shouted to the sleeping scout, and saw her start to awaken. "Did you chop any logs?"

"Er no, like you wander off expecting me to do everything? I'm left here all alone while you go off drawing; I don't think so!"

Next the door opens again, and Mr. Longley stumbles in with Susanna's camp bed, his face like stone. "I've just seen the lean-to, and there are no logs cut," he stormed, "what the hell do you two think we are going to use for heating tonight?"

"We will just have to turn up the radiators when the fire goes out, like why all the drama it's not like it is the end of the world or anything!"

Both Abigail and Mr. Longley looked at each other open-mouthed at Susanna's reply.

"What?" Asked Susanna as she looked at their stunned faces.

"The radiators run off a back boiler," Mr. Longley replied very slowly through gritted teeth, "the boiler is heated by the fire, the fire goes out, the radiators go cold."

The reality of the situation could now be seen to be dawning on Susanna. Abigail stared at the floor in shame, as she knew only too well that this was just as much her fault as Susanna's.

"Right!" Said Mr. Longley. "I'll go and cut the logs in this blizzard. Otherwise, there is a good chance we might freeze to death, and then tomorrow morning I'm radioing in to say that the two of you are being removed from this project as soon as the weather lifts. I'm also going to recommend that you both are thrown out of your respective scouting groups."

As Mr. Longley left, the two girls stood in silence contemplating what he had just said. While it may be great to have a venturing course on your resume, it was certainly terrible to have an expulsion from the scouting movement on it when applying to the best colleges. Abigail had an idea; it was a mad one, but it was all she could think of at such short notice. She explained her plan to an unusually silent Susanna, reluctantly she agreed to Abigail's crazy suggestion.

"Do you really think he will go for it? He looks like totally fuming." Susanna almost whispered.

Without replying, Abigail put her coat back on and went outside in the lashing snow. After what seemed like an age to Susanna, but was in truth no more than a quarter of an hour, Abigail returned covered in snow and shivering. She simply nodded to the waiting Susanna and said.

"We have to get changed into our PJ's, and wait in here by the fire. He wants to deal with us both before supper."

Almost an hour later Mr. Longley returned, to find the two girls standing in front of the fire, hands on the tops of their heads.

"Right you both agree to this?" He asked the two penitent girls.

They both nodded silently.

"I will deal with you in order of stupidity, so you first Susanna."

Susanna gulped but said nothing as Mr. Longley dragged a chair over from the table, sitting on it, he then beckoned her to his side with his finger. Reluctantly, she slowly walked the four or so steps towards him. Wordlessly he grabbed the waistband of her PJ bottoms and pulled them to her knees. Abigail could feel her mouth drying up like last night, when she had spied upon Mr. Longley sleeping on the floor. She felt her knees turn to jelly as she watched Mr. Longley haul Susanna over his lap, her naked bottom now pointing directly at her.

She stared unblinking, as the first slaps started to fall onto Susanna's golden tanned naked behind. Susanna called out in protest as the spanking gained pace, and her tanned cheeks started to change colour. Abigail watched entranced as Susanna struggled on Mr. Longley's lap, her legs flailing allowing Abigail fleeting glimpses of her sex.

Susanna's calls were music to Abigail's ears, for she knew only to well that soon it would be her across Mr. Longley's lap, it would be her squirming under his punishing calloused hands, it would be her finally living out her teen fantasy of submission.

Soon enough her turn came as Mr. Longley helped the now tearful Susanna to her feet, and told her to get back in front of the fire hands back on the top of her head, PJ bottoms now at her ankles, her dark lush pubic triangle on display. Abigail knew, that soon she to would be standing there by the fire, humiliated and exposed. First though there was a spanking for her to endure.

Like Susanna before her, Mr. Longley silently pulled down her PJ bottoms and hauled her over his lap. She could feel the hardness of his cock pushing at her belly as she stared at the dusty floorboards. Then it started. She winced as his hand came into contact with her naked bottom, the first few slaps taking her breath away. Then again like Susanna, Abigail too started to squirm on his lap, she knew that now it would be Susanna being treated to views of her sex as her body went into automatic defence mode, and tried to avoid Mr. Longley's punitive hand.
Her writhing only earned her spanks across the backs and the inside of her thighs. Then as before with Susanna, he parted slightly the cheeks of her bottom to allow his spanking fingers to tan the inside of her cleft and to actually hit her now exposed anus. This extra humiliation and pain finally brought forward her real tears.
Tears of joy at a fantasy finally fulfilled. Through the fog of tears and pain she had never felt so alive.

Felt such contentment!

THE END