by Tom Horner
‘THERE ARE some young women who are just asking to have their bottoms smacked!’
Richard looked at David in surprise. He followed the direction of David’s eyes across the pub, and realised that he was staring at a small group of people standing at the bar. The group consisted of three young men and a girl. The girl was about 20, her auburn haircut in a pageboy style. She stood in the middle of the young men, talking animatedly, her chatter punctuated by flashes of her wide eyes, glimpses of a bright wide smile, and tosses of her pretty head. It was a performance that any man would have found hard to resist and the three young men in the bar were no match for this jinxy little minx. She had them transfixed, lapping up her performance like three cats round a bowl of cream. She was smartly dressed – a secretary perhaps – and when she turned her back, the tight material of her grey skirt rippled with the movement of her slim buttocks.
Richard gave an appreciative grunt. She was a delightful creature, but one that was clearly in need of a firm spanking.
‘I see what you mean,’ said Richard.
‘I rather thought you might,’ David replied, turning to him with a smile.
Richard had known David for the three years since starting to work at the same firm. David was some years older than Richard, about 50 he thought, and a good number of points further up the managerial scale, but nevertheless for some reason he seemed to have decided to take Richard under his wing. Over the past three years they had become quite close, often going to the pub together at lunchtime or after work.
Despite this friendship, Richard really knew very little about David, or his personal feelings. This sudden expression of interest in the pert young girl at the bar came as something of a surprise, although the sentiments his senior voiced were by no means alien to Richard’s own feelings. But he was even more surprised by what David said next.
‘Yes, I thought you might have the same interests as me. I got the first inkling when I saw the way your eyes follow Jean around the office – particularly when she bends down to the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet!’
David gave a chuckle as Richard stared into his drink in embarrassment, thinking of the many times when, in his imagination, David’s sophisticated secretary, Jean, had touched her toes for six of the best on her bare bottom.
‘But I only knew for certain yesterday,’ David went on, ‘when I saw the copy of that magazine in your briefcase. I used to read it myself, but since I met Angela I haven’t felt the need so much.’
‘Angela?’ Richard stammered questioningly, still scarlet with embarrassment from having been confronted with his own most intimate secret.
‘Yes, my current young woman. I’ve known her about two years now, I suppose, but she’s a headstrong little madam, and needs regular discipline of the firmest kind.’
Richard knew that David was not married, but he had never heard him mention a girlfriend before. Was he suggesting now that he had some young woman with whom he put into practice all those things which Richard had so far only read about in magazines? It seemed to be too amazing to be true. But what David said next was even more so.
‘Yes,’ he continued in that same smooth tone, ‘Angela needs to have her bottom warmed at fairly regular intervals. In fact she is due for a session tomorrow evening. Why don’t you come home with me tomorrow, and see how reality compares with your fantasies. I’m sure that you will enjoy it, and your presence will give an added piquancy to the session for Angela and me.’
This was an invitation which Richard had no hesitation in accepting. And so it was that he found himself the following evening seated in a comfortable armchair in David’s large house, sipping a drink. He was awaiting expectantly the arrival of Angela, and wondering just what she would be like. At 6.15 precisely, the door bell rang.
‘That will be her,’ said David, leaving the room.
He returned a few minutes later ushering a young woman into the room in front of him. As soon as he saw her, Richard gave a start of surprise. He knew this girl – she had been at University at the same time as him! They had never been introduced, and indeed Richard doubted whether she would remember him at all, but he had known her. Only then she had been ‘Angie’, not ‘Angela’.
She had been one of the prettiest girls in the University, and it would have been difficult not to have noticed her. Richard always counted it a good day if he managed to sit near her in one of the refectories, and watch her talking to her friends.
He remembered one particularly pleasant afternoon he had spent in the snooker room in the Students’ Union. He had gone there with a friend to play a frame, but had found the table occupied by Angie and one of her girlfriends. The fact that they were not very good meant that it lasted a considerable time. Normally this would have infuriated Richard, but the sight of Angie, repeatedly bending across the table, the faded blue denim stretching tight across her bottom, made up for the long wait. In fact it was almost with regret that Richard saw the black disappear into the pocket for the last time.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ she had said, smiling sweetly as she handed him the cue.
But that had been five years ago. Now the faded blue jeans were replaced by a smart blue suit, the tight pencil skirt reaching just to her knees, the short jacket finishing at her waist. Her thick black hair had been cut from its almost waist-length, to finish now at her nape. But the face was still the same – the wide blue eyes, the tip-tilted nose, the full mouth, that he remembered.
She smiled and held out her hand as David introduced him to her. It was clear that she did not remember Richard. Perhaps he had changed more than she had done, or maybe she had simply not noticed him in those days. Whatever the reason, Richard decided that it would be better not to remind her of the time when their paths had crossed previously.
As David fetched her a drink, Angela chatted in a cheerful way about the tough day she had had at the office. Richard, looking at her, found it almost impossible to believe that this delightful young woman was the person who David had led him to believe, willingly accepted corporal punishment, and whom David had promised Richard himself would see receiving such treatment before the evening was over.
In fact, Richard did not have long to wait for proceedings to begin. After a few minutes the conversation lulled, and David looked determinedly at Angela, as she sat, curled up like a cat her legs tucked beneath her, on one of the armchairs.
‘You won’t forget why you are here this evening, will you, my dear?’ he said.
Angela’s eyelids fluttered. She looked down into her drink and murmured in a small voice:
‘No David, of course not.’
Then she glanced across in an inquiring way at Richard.
‘Oh yes,’ said David, ‘That is precisely the reason that Richard is here. He is very interested in the punishment of naughty girls.’
‘I see,’ said Angela, continuing to stare at the floor, and avoiding Richard’s eyes.
‘Well,’ continued David, standing up. ‘I think we may as well get started. So finish your drink, Angela, and fetch the cane like a good girl.’
Angela gulped down the rest of her drink and stood up, handing the glass to David. There was a large leather-topped desk at one end of the room, and Angela walked over towards it. Richard’s heart was beating at high speed as he watched her cross the room, her hips swaying under the tight skirt. Then she reached the desk, and squatting down, opened one of the drawers. From it she withdrew two items – two canes, yellowish in colour, one with a crook handle, the other straight. She turned to David, holding them up.
‘Which one do you want?’
‘Bring me the rattan, but leave the bamboo on the desk,’ David commanded.
The straight cane was laid on the leather, and she came back to David holding the crook-handled rattan. As she handed it to him she looked straight into his eyes.
‘I have been a naughty girl,’ she said. ‘I am in need of punishment. Please cane me as I deserve.’
‘Of course, my dear,’ replied David. ‘Prepare yourself.’
Angela returned to the desk, with David following her, flexing the cane. Richard could see that it was very supple and swishy. Was he really going to see it applied to Angie’s bottom? Or was this a complex illusion, perhaps even designed to make fun of him?
When Angela arrived in front of the desk she stopped and took off her jacket, laying it neatly on the desk-top. David beckoned Richard, and he moved forward to stand next to his host.
Angela still had her back to them. Her hands now fell to her waist. She unclipped the skirt, and undid the zip. Even with the zip unfastened she had to wriggle a bit to ease its tightness down her legs. As it descended her bottom was revealed to Richard’s eager gaze. It was inadequately covered by silk knickers of pale blue, which failed to conceal the enticing roundness of her buttocks. She was wearing stockings and suspenders rather than tights. At last the skirt was off and placed neatly beside the jacket. Then she bent across the surface of the desk reaching for the far side with her fingertips.
David gave a loud ‘tut’.
‘Come now, Angela,’ he said, ‘let’s not have any false modesty just because we have a guest with us. You have a delightful bottom. It is that that Richard wants to see being punished, not the expensive underwear with which you pamper yourself. Take them down please.’
Rather reluctantly Angela pushed herself upright. Her hands went to the waistband of the knickers. Then she stopped, and peeped back over her shoulder at David.
‘Please,’ she said, ‘let me keep them on. They won’t protect me at all.’
‘No,’ replied David sternly. ‘They must come down. And I don’t care much for your reluctance to obey. Let’s have no more of it, or we’ll have to let Richard see what happens to you when you have to make a trip to the room upstairs.’
‘Oh no, please,’ said Angela hurriedly. ‘I’m sorry – I’ll do what you say.’
Her thumbs slid into the waistband of her knickers and pushed them down to the floor. Stepping out of them she laid them on the desk with her skirt and jacket. Then she bent into position again. Richard now had the delightful view of Angela’s bare bottom offered up for the cane. It was as beautiful as he had imagined it would be all those years before, when he had watched it bent over the snooker table. It was so smooth and white. Richard would have loved to stretch out a hand, first to stroke, and then to smack.
But it was David who was measuring the rattan across Angela’s cheeks. He tapped it once or twice across the crown, making the flesh ripple.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘keep your legs straight, and your tummy flat on the desk, please.’
As Angela tensed her legs, and pushed herself flat against the desk, David turned to Richard.
‘That way it makes sure the target is presented at the perfect angle,’ he explained. And indeed, Richard had to admit that the minor adjustment had made Angela’s bottom even more prominent – and splendid.
‘Keep still now!’ The cane tapped once more. ‘I’m going to start!’
David raised the cane, and then swished it in across the centre of Angela’s bottom. To Richard, almost overcome with the excitement of witnessing his first real-life caning, it seemed as though time stood still as the whippy stick kissed the firm flesh with a sharp smack. It lingered for a moment, and then came away, leaving a rapidly reddening tramline as evidence of its attention, neatly drawn across the centre of Angela’s bottom. Angela’s only obvious reaction had been a sharp gasp of breath, and a slight toss of the head, but Richard could now see the muscles in her thighs tensing as the pain reached her.
David swished the cane in again with a full swing – Smack! As Angela wriggled, a little more this time, and tightened her grip on the desk, Richard had to admire David’s accuracy. The second stroke had ruled another red line exactly half an inch below the first.
The third stroke went in the opposite direction, across the top of the cleft, and this time Angela gave an almost audible crying and her bottom began to sway from side to side.
To Richard’s surprise, David paused.
‘Well, Richard,’ he said, ‘I dare say you’d like to take a more active part in the proceedings.’
Richard’s throat was dry with excitement. He could do no more than nod his head.
‘But I believe that you have never caned a naughty girl before?’
A shake of the head this time.
‘Very well. In which case I can’t allow you to use this rattan – it needs an experienced hand to use it correctly. But by all means use the bamboo on the desk there, to complete Angela’s punishment.’
Hesitantly but with the most incredible sense of anticipation, Richard picked up the straight cane. It was thinner than the rattan – but not as supple or swishy. Richard realised that this would make it easier to be accurate with it.
It was magic – he could only just come to terms with his good fortune.
‘That’s it,’ said David, ‘Get the feel of it. Try a few practice swings, and then you can give Angela the remaining six she is due.’
At this point Angela pushed herself up from the desk, and turned to David with appeal in her eyes.
‘Oh, please, David – don’t let him. It’s different taking it from you – but from a stranger…’
She stopped as she saw the look of anger in his eyes.
‘If I say so,’ David replied with controlled rage, ‘you will take it from a tramp off the street.’
He put his hands to her shoulders.
‘I’ve already warned you once this evening about disobedience. You have now earned youself a trip to the room upstairs when we have finished with you here – and the longer you take to get back across the desk, the longer the visit will be!’
Angela’s head dropped, and with a sigh she resumed her place over the desk, wriggling herself into the precise position in which David had originally placed her.
‘Now, if madam has finished her little tantrum, perhaps we can continue.’ David’s face lightened and he smiled at Richard. ‘Come here, and I’ll give you a lesson,’ he said to him.
‘Stand at this distance to her so that the cane will meet both buttocks as equally as possible. It’s inevitable that a right-hander will touch up the right cheek more than the left, but try to make it as even as you can.’ Following David’s instructions Richard placed the cane across Angela’s bottom, in between two of the red lines left by David’s strokes.
‘I should go a little lower if I were you,’ David advised. ‘Like most girls, Angela is particularly sensitive in that area, and it will reduce the risk of your crossing one of my strokes – which should be avoided unless you are intending specifically to increase the severity of the punishment.’
Richard adjusted the position of the cane, pressing it against the firm flesh of the lower half of the girl’s bottom. He thought he sensed her tremble a little. He became sharply aware of the contrast between Angela’s arched buttocks and the whippy, springy hardness of the cane.
‘Look at Richard, please, Angela!’ David ordered.
‘It is very important to be able to see the girl’s face when you are punishing her,’ he explained. ‘Helps you to judge the effect of the punishment more accurately.’
The mass of black hair on the desk moved, and Angela’s pretty features were turned towards Richard. She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, and her eyes were full of mute appeal, to which Richard was quite impervious. He was in the position ha had dreamed of so often – a cane in his hand, and a beautiful young woman bent over before him, her bare defenceless bottom correctly presented for his attention. He was determined that this was going to be a punishment session which both he and the girl would remember for a very long time. But now David was giving a few last tips.
‘Take the cane back slowly, and then whip it in with plenty of wrist. It’s a kind of flicking action you should be aiming for, so that the tip of the cane really gets moving.’
Richard matched his actions to David’s words, and the cane met Angela’s bottom with a resounding thwack! Her buttocks tensed, and she shut her eyes, but otherwise there was no reaction. Richard was pleased to see that the red line had appeared exactly on the spot he had been aiming for. David added his congratulations.
‘Yes that’s it,’ he said. ‘Now you’ve got the idea give the cane a bit more air, and give her the last five nice and slowly. Try to spread them evenly from the first one down to the tops of her thighs.’
Richard then proceeded to administer what he later liked to think of as a ‘sound beating’ – a ‘six-of-the-best’ such as a stern headmaster might have used to bring tears to the eyes of the toughest young schoolboy. But on this occasion it was not the thick hide of a delinquent adolescent on the receiving end, but the sensitive flesh of a 24-year-old woman.
Richard watched Angela’s reactions carefully as the strokes whipped in, and he had to admit that she took it well. He felt a perceptible change in his own state of consciousness at each successive application – a series of explosive heightenings of his sense of being. Only when his fourth stroke hit slightly off-target, and landed on almost exactly the same spot as the third, did his beautiful victim’s lips part in a brief squeal of pain. It was at this point too that she started to cry a little. But she made no attempt to rise from the desk, or to avoid her punishment in any way. And when the sixth swingeing stroke had left its angry red line across the white flesh at the very tops of her thighs, she just lay in place sobbing quietly.
Richard suddenly felt a little embarrassed. He had become so absorbed in caning Angela that now he had finished he felt rather awkward, standing there with the cane in his hands.
David soon came to his rescue. He took the cane from Richard, and patted him on the shoulder.
‘Well done!’ he said. ‘A splendid performance for a novice. I can see it won’t be long before you graduate to the rattan. Let me refill your glass, while Angela recovers herself a little.’
He led Richard back to the other end of the room, poured some more drinks, and then took down a book from the shelf.
‘Have a look at this,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ll find it of interest.’
As Richard browsed through the book, which turned out to be a lavishly illustrated history of corporal punishment, he noticed that David had returned to Angela. Bending half over her, he was whispering to her. His right hand rested on her punished bottom, caressed it a little, and then slid between her thighs. As he continued to whisper close to her left ear, Angela’s bottom began to writhe, sensuously at first, and then wildly and passionately as her thighs clamped tight on David’s insistent finger. At last her body went rigid, and then suddenly relaxed. It took all Richard’s self-control to stop himself reaching a climax at the same time. But he did not want that just yet, for he was not sure that the evening had yet provided all its interest. Was there not still the mysterious ‘room upstairs’ to come?
As David came back to Richard, Angela got up from the desk. Gathering up her clothes, and dabbing ineffectually at her eyes with her left hand, she half-ran from the room.
‘She’s going to have a shower,’ David explained, as Richard, with longing eyes, watched the door close behind Angela’s blazing bottom. ‘She’ll be back in a few minutes.’
In fact it was about ten minutes later that Angela reappeared, looking very different from the dishevelled and tearful girl who had fled the room. She was dressed in a white towelling wrap which finished at mid-thigh. As far as Richard could tell she was wearing nothing else. Her glorious long legs glowed pink with the effects of the shower. She took a drink from David, and then turned to Richard with mischief in her eyes.
‘You certainly know how to punish a girl, don’t you?’ she said. ‘I thought you were going to slice my poor bottom in two!’
‘Well… I… er,’ Richard stammered, feeling himself blushing.
‘Don’t be a tease, Angela,’ David broke in. ‘You’ll have him apologising to you in a minute. Give him a kiss, to show there’s no hard feelings.’
Angela placed her glass on a nearby table and put her arms round Richard’s neck. As she kissed him full on the mouth the wrap fell open. The warmth of her naked body close to him, and the scent of her expensive perfume, made Richard’s head swim. But as he brought his arms up to pull her closer to him, she slipped away. She pulled the wrap around herself again, but not before Richard had caught a tantalising glimpse of her small firm breasts and the smooth white plane of her stomach above the dark triangle between her lissom thighs.
Angela picked up her drink once more, and they fell into general conversation – rather incongruously, Richard thought, in the light of the earlier events of the evening. But the only reference to those came when Richard asked Angela if she would like to sit down, and she declined with a rueful grin, and a rub at her towelling-covered cheeks.
Richard had begun to think that perhaps the ‘room upstairs’ was just a threat, and that the evening had passed its climax, when David, glancing at his watch, suddenly changed the mood. His voice was stern and hard as he spoke.
‘It’s time, I think, my girl, to bring the pleasant part of the evening to an end – for you at least. I have not forgotten, even if you may have done, that you are due for a trip to the room upstairs. So finish your drink, and follow me, please!’
Richard’s excitement began to rise again at these words, and looking at Angela, it seemed that there was something close to fear in her eyes as she drained her glass. She started to follow David towards the door, but he turned again.
‘You may as well leave that down here,’ he said, indicating her wrap. ‘You won’t be needing it.’
The towelling slipped from her shoulders and fell in a heap on the floor. She was totally naked now, and Richard, in a certain state of shock had time to confirm his previous impression of the beauty of her young body, for she made no attempt to cover herself, letting her hands rest meekly at her sides. The pinky brown of her erect nipples contrasted delightfully with the milky whiteness of her breasts.
She turned once more to follow David, and Richard’s eyes dropped to admire the proud swell of her buttocks from the delicacy of her slim waist. Her bottom seemed suffused with a delicate pinkness, the marks of the caning fading, but still discernible.
The other two seemed to be virtually ignoring him, so Richard followed them through the door, his eyes glued to the entrancing swing of Angela’s hips.
As they mounted the stairs, Richard thought what a strange trio they must look. Two men, fully dressed in business suits, with a totally naked girl between them. He certainly felt that he was in the best position, for the movements of Angela’s hips and legs and buttocks as she climbed the stairs were raising him to new levels of excitement and anticipation. He could sense too that Angela herself was all atremble with nervous expectation.
The room into which David led them on the first floor had once been one of the back bedrooms of the house. It was large, but very sparsely (and strangely!) furnished. As David closed and locked the door behind him, the first thing that Richard noticed was the piece of furniture which occupied the centre of the room. It was something he had never seen in the flesh before, but recognised at once from the pictures he had seen in books about historical public schools. There was no doubt from its strange two-stepped shape that this was a birching-block!
But this was not the hard wooden structure of the public school. It was covered in dark blue velvet, and it looked as though the top was padded. There was something almost sensuous, and quite definitely erotic, about this item of equipment.
Any doubts which Richard may have had about the use to which the block was to be put were dispelled when David went to the large oak cupboard, which was the only other item of furniture in the room, and produced a birch. It was about two foot six inches in length and consisted of five switched taped together.
At the sight of this fearsome instrument Angela shuddered. David broke the silence, but what he said did little to relieve the tension in the room.
‘I made this one specially for this occasion,’ he said, giving it a few hissing practice swings. ‘I am sure you will find it very effective, my dear. Now onto the block with you, please, so that we can get started.’
Richard felt sure that Angela must in some ways have been relieved to let her knees, which were now visibly shaking, sink into the soft velvet. She leant across the top of the block, then stretched right over it as instructed. David criticised her posture until he was satisfied that it was just perfect.
Angela’s stomach was now pressed tightly against the velvet, and her buttocks were raised but relaxed, curved beautifully in all their defenceless naked glory.
David commented upon the merits of this mode of presentation of her posteriors and then said, ‘Feel her and see.’
Richard came forward at David’s invitation and reached out a hand to Angela’s left buttock. The warm flesh was beautifully soft to the touch, despite the slight ridges left by the caning. His fingers slipped into the deep divide between the buttocks, and Angela flinched slightly, but made no other protest. There was no doubt that with her knees very slightly apart, and her bottom cocked up over the block, Angela was perfectly positioned to receive an extended punishment.
Meanwhile David, standing in front of Angela, had removed his jacket, and was now undoing his cuff-links and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt. The birch he had placed on the floor, under Angela’s nose, so to speak, as if giving her the opportunity to examine in close-up the implement which would soon whipping across her unprotected flesh.
‘You may have noticed,’ David said, ‘that Angela obtained a certain amount of satisfaction from the attention we gave her earlier. Things are very different here. As she well knows, a session in this room is for punishment, and punishment alone. It would be quite contrary to my intentions if the birching which she is about to receive became in any way a source of pleasure to her.
‘That would mean that the lesson of contrition and penitence which she is supposed to be learning would be lost. For that reason, if no other, the punishments which she receives on such occasions are always severe. This evening, for example, I have decided to give her twenty strokes of the birch.’
Angela had obviously been waiting with extreme nervousness for sentence to be pronounced, and she reacted with a low moan. This did not escape David’s attention.
‘There had better not be any complaints from you, my girl,’ he said, ‘or I shall double the number of strokes this instant. And do try to take your medicine with some degree of fortitude. As usual, any undue reaction to a stroke, vocal or physical, will lead to that stroke being repeated. Now let’s begin, shall we?’
Richard stepped clear as David came round behind the block. The birch was laid against Angela’s pouting cheeks, and tapped, once, twice, three times, before David drew it back, and then brought it down with a hiss and a smack, in a full-blooded stroke across their centre.
It was only as the rod spread itself across the broad swell of Angela’s bottom, that Richard realised that to be on the receiving end of a birch such as that which David was wielding, must be a bit like being beaten with five thin canes at once. But Angela made no audible complaint, though the toss of her head, and the whitening of her knuckles, showed that she had felt it.
‘One,’ David announced, as a broad scarlet band appeared across Angela’s bottom. ‘Only nineteen to go, my dear!’
Richard watched with fascination as the birching of the proud young beauty continued. David obviously intended to take things slowly, and his delivery of the first five strokes had no particular rhythm to it. Angela took them all as well as she had the first, and the room remained silent apart from the hiss and thwack of the birch, and David’s deliberate count after each stroke.
After the sixth, however, she cried out, earning herself a repeat. And thereafter, every few strokes, as the birch explored every inch of her soft curves, leaving its scarlet visiting card at each point of call, she could not control herself, and yet another stroke was added to the total.
She stuck for a long time on eleven, and it was then that Richard noticed that her eyes were riveted on David, as if willing him to utter the next number. David gave no sign of noticing this silent pleading. Eventually she managed to bite her lip, and hold herself sufficiently steady on the block to satisfy him, and he said ‘twelve’. The relief, combined with the pain, finally made Angela’s tears overflow.
Richard was not sure how many strokes in all Angela took that evening before ‘twenty’ was reached. By the end he was totally drained with the nervous excitement of watching this beautiful woman being punished almost beyond the limits of endurance. In the whole of his life he had never encountered anything a fraction as erotic as the flagellation of Angela’s naked buttocks with the mercilessly vicious birch.
But the strange thing which he noticed towards the end, was a change which came over Angela as the birch hissed and smacked relentlessly against her increasingly sensitive flesh.
Her eyes remained fixed on David, and were still full of tears, but the fear was gone now, to be replaced by a shining brightness. It was as though she had transcended the pain to reach a new plane of enlightenment. It was clear that she was suffering intensely: the clenching of the muscles in her back and arms and the involuntary twitching of her buttocks proved that. And yet the look which her eyes gave David was not one of hate but, it seemed, of love!
It was clear to Richard that he had much still to learn about the subtle relationship between pain and pleasure. He dearly hoped that his teachers might continue to be his stern friend, now wielding the birch yet again, and the beautiful girl whose body lay defenceless and squirming with pain over the block.