  The moment of truth! .. Susan felt palpitations knowing the moment was increasingly imminent. Her heart soared to her mouth, her lips felt dry and her legs felt heavy. She swallowed nervously and smoothed down her black knee length skirt. She seemed to be sweating profusely. Try as hard as she could, the ominous thought of her having to reticently bend and bare before that odious man remained implacably resolute.
A respectable 31 year old grown up woman, what on earth was she doing letting herself to be soon exposed to Mr Bingley's prurient gaze? Rather than deal with her shortly and sharply he would doubtless prefer to leeringly savour the moment of truth and rigorously ritualise it into some sort of horrid humiliation to be almost certainly protracted; the spanking itself a mere horse d'ouevre for the catechism of what he termedself-examinationbut in reality was his own remorseless examination of her, the bridge to more severe punishment, administered firmly by himself with gusto .
The assembled town magistrates seemed to know Susan's innermost thoughts. Mrs Wilkins smirked at her as if she enjoyed Susan's predicament enormously.
Report to Justice Bingley please, Susan. He's in room 3B waiting for you and when he calls you don't forget the saying that proper planning prevents pretty poor performance . So think of how you can best stick your bottom out for him, Susan and whether you've got a comfortable chair in your flat tonight. Cold cream might be in order too, dear. I expect you're getting butterflies in your tummy. Never mind..
Susan grimaced. How she hated having to specifically request punishment from the man she most hated. The worst thing about living in Oadsbourne, apart from everybody knowing everybody, was it was such an old-fashioned town clinging to standards and a bygone age. Its most outstanding feature was an old railway tunnel, at the one end of which after ten minutes one emerges from the peace of the serene countryside at one end to the bustle of the town car park bristling with congested urban dangers at the other. Likewise Susan felt herself to have exchanged one world for a more perilous, punctilious one. The tunnel of trains or tunnels of love had long gone and now she was walking the dark tunnel of a corridor, knocking softly at the oak door of Mr Bingley's room as if she were on the very verge of an abyss.
Come in.
Name?
Susan.
Susan Wilson?
Yes, Sir .
How may I help you ?
Susan felt his eyes boring into her.
Please can you punish my bottom, Mr Bingley?
I'll be more than happy to do so. Take that table as before, young lady, would you?
Resignedly and reluctantly Sandra sighed. She leant fully over it so that her fingers just caught the table edges. Then, as she had been taught, she placed one arm behind her white blouse and hitched the hem of her black skirt up so that it fell almost onto her shoulder. Next she moved her arm back into position so that it was in line with the other one, fingers touching the table edges. She stretched herself so that her bottom muscles were tight and taut.
A pause followed that seemed pregnant with angry anticipation.
You've been here before, Susan?
Yes, Sir
So you know the drill?
Yes Sir
In which case why am I seeing knickers when I should not?
Sorry, Sir
Susan hastened to adjust the last vestiges of her modesty. Down they came to half-mast with effect that what now confronted Mr Bingley was a pair of dark stockings and a powerfully bared bottom, the enormity of which seemed to be positively pleading for punishment.
Mr Bingley paused to savour the spectacle for then and all time.
Whoosh! . The cane suddenly seared through Susan's consciousness as she felt its cold harshness as it landed at the point just where the end of her thighs met her pelvis.
Thank you, Sir.
Whoosh!. Susan gasped. Another stroke followed, delivered a little bit higher up followed by four others in quick succession at the end of which slowly but surely a raw, rugged redness began to take shape.
Mr Bingley felt immensely satisfied. It was the satisfaction akin to a gardener who feels the first shoots of spring appearing. As for Susan's wretched wriggling and squirming, he simply took her performance all in his stride. He sensed the blood swelling in his groin area and a hardness swelling in that area as he felt the stickiness next of Susan close up against him now that he had helped her to stand.
Come along, my dear. I'm far from finished with you yet. Show me what happens to naughty girls. They go over gentlemen's knees, don't they? I can spank your bottom, Susan, till the cows come home. Let's get you up and running properly, I need you over my knee, nicely warmed up for your ultimate caning from the chief magistrate Mr Wild. ... Shall we? ... |
... Story Originally Started by Sandra Discipline (United Kingdom)
