Naughty Spanking One

by Miranda Forbes

  ‘Take me! Drink me! I love you!’

  Guinevere’s lecherous words galvanised Maude. She burst in, screeching like a banshee.

  ‘Slut! Temptress! Harlot! Debaucher! Perverted whore! Defiler of womanhood!’ she spat through white, bloodless lips.

  She stooped and tore Guinevere’s dangling knickers from her knees. ‘The Governors will hear about your filthy perversion. I shall have you publicly thrashed and expelled for your obscene display of unnatural lust and debauchery.’

  Minutes later, the girls were standing in dishevelled shock before Lady Jessica Cleveland, Victoria’s appointed Headmistress. Maude had marched them from the stables in their hay-covered dishabille. Her screaming abuse, their disordered attire and Guinevere’s torn knickers borne triumphantly aloft like a Mogul standard captured on a Punjabi field of battle, left no doubt as to what had transpired.

  By the time they reached the Headmistress’s study, Maude had worked herself into a frenzy of moral righteousness.

  She threw her captured trophy onto Jessica’s desk. ‘Doing it in front of the horses…Victoria’s dishonoured!…Empire’s Fallen Heroes defiled!…Calcutta concubine!…perverted harlots!.…public thrashing!…expel them immediately!… inform the Governors!…’

  She screeched on until lack of breath reduced her to rasping incoherence.

  ‘That’s enough, Miss Bullen,’ the Headmistress barked. ‘Please be silent!

  Maude was one of the crosses Lady Cleveland had to bear when, prematurely widowed by the untimely death of her noble husband on an orchid collecting expedition to Papua, New Guinea, she had sold her spacious Belgravia mansion, bought a smaller property in Mayfair and accepted the gracious royal favour of appointment as Headmistress to the nearby Academy. Unfortunately, Maude came with the job. The founding governors were a cadre of feisty Generals; be-medalled veterans of Imperial forays into the dusty plains of India, the shifting sands of Egypt and the steaming jungles of Darkest Africa. General Sir George Bullen, VC., hero of Napier’s Abyssinian Expedition of ’67 and the Second Ashanti War of ’74 was typical of these. His martial valour had lost him limb and livelihood, but gained him fame, if not fortune, and a place on Victoria’s governing board.

  Bullen had promptly engineered his daughter’s appointment as Riding Mistress and now manoeuvred tirelessly to retire Lady Cleveland and appoint Maude as Head teacher.

  Given the furore created by Maude’s tempestuous progress from stables to Academy, Jessica had no alternative but to inflict the statutory punishment for ‘immodesty’; a whipping and expulsion. Failure to do so would play into Bullen’s hands; enhancing Maude’s claim to be the Academy’s strict guardian of maidenly morals and jeopardizing Jessica’s position.

  ‘What have you to say before I punish you?’

  Alysha knew her fate. There would be no reprieve from ignominious expulsion. She would be one of Victoria’s secrets. Could she save her sweetheart by accepting culpability, however?

  ‘It was my fault, Headmistress. I seduced Guinevere. Expel me, but please don’t punish her.’

  Guinevere burst into tears at her sweetheart’s brave words.

  ‘That’s not true! I’m to blame! Punish me, not her!’

  The ulcerating acid of frustrated sexual desire and jealousy was now pumping corrosive poison through Maude’s icy veins.

  ‘Disgusting sluts! Purveyors of unnatural vice! Perhaps others are party to their filthy lust. My father will initiate an inquiry and expose the despicable moral laxity here under your Headship. The Board will…’

  Jessica cut her short. This confrontation was moving onto dangerous ground.

  ‘That would be unfortunate, Miss Bullen. You should be the last person to trumpet this outside these hallowed walls. It will reflect very badly upon you. As Headmistress, I must point out your own responsibility in this matter. You are solely responsible for stable discipline and this is not the first instance of such disgraceful behaviour there. You will remember that I expelled Estelle and Constance last year for similar turpitude in the stables. You appear to preside over a hotbed of unnatural sexual perversion. Perhaps I should recommend the Board to consider this sullied record and review your position.’

  Jessica’s words struck home. Maude sputtered into angry silence.

  The Headmistress studied the two miscreants. ‘As Miss Bullen has noted, your actions force me to whip and dishonourably expel you forthwith. I should assemble the girls and staff to witness your humiliation but I wish to spare our Riding Mistress the embarrassment of publicising such lamentable moral turpitude within her bailiwick. I shall therefore cane you privately and your expulsion shall become just more of Victoria’s secrets.

  She turned to their accuser. ‘Leave us now Miss Bullen! Return to your stables before any further lewdness occurs in front of the horses!’

  Maude shot Jessica a look of thwarted hatred. She wanted to witness the caning, exulting in humiliating the girls, but had no answer to Jessica’s barbed comments. She departed, slamming the door defiantly behind her.

  With the Riding Mistress safely out of the way, Jessica moved rapidly to close the official expulsion proceedings and open her own secret agenda; an option that provided a very different future for the beautiful Alysha and Guinevere to that which they expected and Maude had intended.

  She smiled wickedly at her secretarial assistant. ‘Miss Downey, we have two more to add to our growing list of “Victoria’s secrets”!’

  The fair Caroline Downey was well versed in Academy punishment procedure, including the necessarily secretive nature of official expulsions.

  Few days passed without a reported misdeed requiring the Headmistress’s use of corrective cane upon bared bottom. The cane hung prominently on the wall beside Caroline’s desk. It was Caroline’s duty to prepare a pupil for chastisement, stripping her naked for “Punishment Undress”, strapping her to the fearsome punishment horse in the corner, register the caning in the Governors’ Punishment Book and have the tearful recipient sign the record.

  Caroline herself was no stranger to the kiss of the cane. When Jessica found her secretarial work unsatisfactory, she would order Caroline to lift up her skirt, drop her knickers and bend over to present her plump, inviting posterior for punishment.

  It was after just such an occasion four years previously that Jessica had first caressed her striped bottom with her cool hand before taking her into her arms and kissing away her salty tears. Exquisite pain had turned to exquisite pleasure, as Jessica’s demanding tongue breached her willing lips. She had responded in a delirium of joy as that first exploratory kiss blossomed into a passionate embrace and a hand slid up the inside of her soft thigh to seek her waiting clitoris. Jessica’s practiced touch to that throbbing button had quickly brought her to the ecstasy of her first orgasm. From then on, Caroline was her willing and adoring submissive and confidante.

  Such blissful moments of extra-curricular caning took place now in Jessica’s nearby home; euphoric occasions of clandestine sensuality which, like “Victoria’s Secrets”, were never recorded in the Academy’s Punishment Book.

  Jessica wrote out a brief note and gave it to Caroline.

  ‘Take this expulsion order over to Main Hall and hand it to Duty Mistress. Instruct her to read it out to the staff and pupils. They will be congregating for Saturday Evening Prayers in 10 minutes.’

  A teasing thought struck her as Caroline turned to leave.

  ‘Who is Duty Mistress this weekend?’

  Caroline giggled gleefully.

  ‘Miss Bullen!’

  Jessica allowed herself a self-satisfied smirk. ‘How divine! How deliciously appropriate! And how convenient for us! That desiccated harridan can have her pound of flesh and pontificate at length on the sinfulness of exposing one’s privy-pretties to horses, while we spirit these two love-birds away to our nest unseen! And we are not expected to return before Monday morning! Hurry back, dearest!’

  Alysha and Guinevere looked totally
bewildered. They expected a severe whipping and ignominious exit from Victoria’s. The Headmistress and her assistant appeared to be reading from a different and altogether friendlier script. And what was “Victoria’s secret”?

  Jessica relished their bemusement. ‘Contain your curiosity! Understand that I shall most certainly spank your naughty bottoms, but not here and now, and not in the way you expect! I am expelling you because Academy rules leave me no alternative. You brought this upon yourselves by allowing your physical desires to overcome you in a place where you could be discovered.’

  The girls looked shattered.

  ‘Your stupidity has led to your undoing and the loss of a secure position as governess. Your predicament is dire, your options few, your prospects bleak! No diploma; no references; no money; no future! You are “fallen women” destined for a clothing sweatshop in Whitechapel, or sex sold for pence behind the Alhambra in Leicester Square. Either way you face an early death from disease and physical abuse.’

  Both girls looked at Jessica numbly. It was a sombre future.

  ‘There is one very exciting but very secret alternative, however. But you must agree to place yourselves unconditionally in my hands and you will have to trust me implicitly.’

  A look of desperate hope crossed their anguished faces.

  ‘I have friends in high places! They will groom you for a new life far removed from a governess’s lonely garret. They will prepare you for a grande entrée in a milieu where your feminine sensuality and personality will bloom like one of my late husband’s exotic orchids. With our help, you will illuminate the most scintillating salons of London, Paris, Vienna and St. Petersburg. You will influence men of destiny. They will prostrate themselves before your bejewelled beauty.’

  First Alysha, and then Guinevere began to sob, then cry and finally laugh with joyful tears.

  ‘Yes! Yes!’ Alysha choked. ‘We place ourselves in your capable hands. Take us and mould us! Those salons sound deliciously decadent and luxuriously lively – unlike a cold garret tucked away in a draughty castle!’

  ‘Good! You are obviously intelligent as well as beautiful! That’s an excellent start to fame and fortune!’

  Caroline returned to find Jessica hugging the two girls to her bosom.

  ‘That Bullen bitch has read out your note. It’s triumph to ashes for her!’

  She giggled irrepressibly. ‘She’s leading the girls in prayer. I bet they’re secretly praying for Lord Lust to clutch their virginal pussies when they visit the stables!’

  ‘You forget your station, Miss Downey!’ Jessica admonished with mock severity. ‘I shall have to bare and punish your pretty posterior presently!’

  She smiled in anticipation of that pleasing prospect as she ushered her charges out.

  ‘Follow me! We can leave unseen now. It’s just a short walk to my house and your new life…and that promised spanking!’

  Jessica led them quickly down Curzon Street and into Brick Street, a nondescript narrow lane leading from Shepherd’s Market to Park Lane. Stopping at No.21, she quickly hustled them in.

  Jessica acknowledged the blond maid in tightly corseted, pink satin uniform who had opened the door and was in deep curtsy before her. She gave her hand to kiss.

  ‘This is Clarissa, my adoring slut-maid. She will look after you until we whisk you off to Paris next week. Do not venture outside! It is imperative that no one from Victoria’s sees you.’

  She addressed Caroline. ‘Put these star-crossed lovers in the Blue Room, tell them all they need to know about our lifestyle here and have Clarissa outfit them in something more provocatively alluring for a Tableau Vivant at our Sunday “Quilting Circle”!’

  She laughed at the girls’ mystification. ‘You will remember I still have to chastise those dainty derrières of yours. You will discover you enjoy the painful experience!’

  The girls dared to wiggle their butts provocatively.

  ‘Run along with Caroline and Clarissa before I spank you here and now, you brazen hussies! I’ll give you something to wiggle about tomorrow at “Quilting circle”!’

  Jessica’s extensive Mayfair residence hid a multitude of sins. It was outwardly unpretentious, giving no hint of its sumptuously furnished and exotically decorated interior. It doubled as her exclusively secretive “Ladies-Only” social club, The Amazons.

  Given society’s hostile chauvinistic attitude to female sexuality, her select club members were advisedly secretive about their relationships and energetic activities in the bedrooms there.

  Sensually passionate lesbians fitted uncomfortably into a male dominated society, where docilely compliant wives were brainwashed into believing it socially acceptable for men to be cock-happy predators, while female orgasm was considered a dangerous physical aberration best cured by clitoridectomy. It was an era when refined ladies willingly surrendered their bodies to male gynaecologists who tested them for “abnormal arousal” by subjecting their clitoris to a clinical finger-fuck. The resulting orgasm was pronounced “deranged”, and the priceless pearl surgically removed from its oyster.

  Members met their lovers at No.21, allegedly for afternoon tea during the week, and “Ladies Quilting Circle” on Sundays. Earl Grey and quilting were perfect alibis for Sapphic dalliance in these safe and secure surroundings.

  Quilting Circle was the club euphemism for Jessica’s lesbian Spanking Sorority. She played horsewoman to visiting femmes on these occasions, wielding her stinging crop to their responsive flanks to the plaudits of their admiring dom lovers. It was also an opportunity to chastise the bared bottoms of offending maids, giving pleasure to the onlookers and, if truth be known, to the maids. This would be the perfect opportunity to discipline Alysha and Guinevere.

  At 3 o’clock on Sunday, Caroline led Alysha and Guinevere into the crowded salon and stood them before Jessica in the centre of the room. Jessica was dressed in a severe black sateen corset with four suspenders holding red stockings taught against her firm thighs. She stood, legs apart, one gloved hand on the swell of her corseted hips, the other holding a long cane; an awesome demanding Mistress Domina. There was a murmur of appreciation from the expectant assembly as they surveyed their ‘Mistress of Ceremonies’ and her two beautiful girls.

  Mistress Domina, tapped her thigh with the long cane. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘We request punishment for immodest behaviour, Mistress!’

  ‘What was that immodesty?’

  ‘ We fornicated in the stables in front of the horses, Mistress.’

  Mistress Domina suppressed a smile. ‘I shall cane you for your sluttishness! When I have reddened your bottoms to a pleasing hue, I expect you to demonstrate to us exactly what you were doing in the stables.’

  Mistress Domina turned to the hushed and expectant audience. ‘We shall initiate these supplicants into the mystic rituals of flagellation, transporting them through a threshold of pain to the ecstasy of sensual euphoria. You have witnessed their humble request for punishment. My cane will produce a painfully focused and memorable impact upon both their minds and bodies. Afterwards we shall enjoy their Tableau Vivant showing us what they were doing when they were interrupted. This time however, I promise no coitus interruptus!’

  ‘Have them disrobe each other!’ a voice called out imperiously. ‘Let’s see some lusty lewdness!’

  Emboldened by the sexually charged atmosphere, Alysha smiled wickedly. She began a slow striptease, divesting herself of blouse, skirt and knickers to reveal the gentle curves of her bottom cheeks and petite patch of silky black hair that stopped above smooth, inviting cunt lips.

  Turning to Guinevere, she undid her blouse and slipped it off her to reveal the ripe fullness of her voluptuous, firmly rounded breasts adorned with prominent red nipples that stood out from pink powder-puff areola. Entering into the spirit, Guinevere placed her hands on her head, raising her breasts in pendulous profile and wiggled provocatively as Alysha tweaked her tits to arousal. There was an envious sigh from th
e onlookers.

  Unbuttoning Guinevere’s skirt, she discarded it and slid her hands inside Guinevere’s tight satin knickers, seeking the heat of her hidden cunt. Guinevere bucked against her hand as a fingernail stroked the slippery moistness of her conch, probing fleetingly for the sweet bud that throbbed therein.

  Alysha knelt and sensuously eased down Guinevere’s knickers. Her lips brushed lightly against her downy fleece. It swelled richly thick over the curve of her mound; a dense forest of copper curls. Her tongue flicked a second at Guinevere’s altar of love in silent adoration before she rose and clasped her tightly to her bosom.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered. ‘I shall hold you tightly while Mistress canes us. We shall share the pain and the ecstasy together.’

  Mistress Domina admired the raw beauty posed for punishment before her in sensual embrace. What magnificent creatures, she thought as she studied them. She admired the lithe Eurasian eroticism of Alysha’s body. Her sweet pert bottom cheeks would be a joy to spank over her knee, she mused. She took in the long sweep of Guinevere’s back that ended in the voluptuously rounded dimpled spheres she was about to cane.

  She wondered irreverently what Guinevere could do with a dildo strapped to such strong Venus hips. She promised herself to discover the answer at a later date as she ran her hand lingeringly down her victim’s body and then over her bottom. Guinevere flexed her hips and rump to the touch, enjoying the feel of Mistress’s finger caressing her cheeks and the erogenous delights of her hidden button.

  It was time to sting those buttocks. ‘Hold her tight to your bosom, Alysha. This is intended to hurt.’

  Mistress Domina whisked her cane, feeling its whippy springiness and enjoying the whirring sound of rattan cutting through air. Raising the cane over her head, she poised with the rod parallel to the ground as if parrying a sabre thrust to the head.

  Crack!

  She whipped the rattan down in a circular motion that cracked like a pistol shot to leave a fiery red streak across the tender underside curve of Guinevere’s rounded spheres.