The maid touched the door and it swung open silently, revealing a luxurious room. So far, so good, thought Hazel.
‘Dinner is at seven, Miss,’ said the maid who had gone before Hazel could look round. Everything was very impressive, they had certainly gone to a lot of trouble. She closed the door after her. A full-length mirror gleamed, showing her plump but attractively rounded body, her now smiling face topped with a thick bunch of tight brown saucy curls. I think I’ll cope, she told herself silently. It’s going to be all right. I know it is.
Susan Mintell paused on the steps of the school for a quick look round. So far the school had been a delight, the mellow stone, soft velvet lawns, the majesty of the ancient trees. It was a place for lovers to walk and dream. She shook herself. Her father had told her over and over she was too much of a dreamer to appreciate real life, which was why she was being sent on a course.
‘No room in my business for dreamers, young lady.’ He told her. ‘I’ve enrolled you in the Business Dynamics course, see if they can get some sense into that head of yours. Time someone did!’
She had felt about ten years old all over again. She loved her father dearly and was content to make the family business her life, but surely there was time for the odd dream, wasn’t there?
‘Excuse me.’
Blushing, Susan realised she was blocking the doorway with her case and she quickly moved aside to let a well-dressed woman with expensive luggage pass her by.
Perhaps Dad was right after all, she thought, look at me, dreaming away, blocking the door, and I’m not even inside yet!
She followed a porter to her room, which she decided was made for dreamers. Such luxury, such beauty! She made herself unpack swiftly, giving herself time to dream later.
At the bottom of the case was a battered brown envelope. As she lifted it out, a spanking magazine fell onto the bed. There were footsteps outside, and Susan hastily thrust the magazine under the mattress, before realising foolishly that no one would just walk in, this wasn’t home. But it was better left under the mattress for now. If she remembered the timetable correctly, she just had time for a wash and change before the dinner gong sounded.
As she brushed her blonde hair, she saw the colour flood into her face again as she thought of the magazine. Blushing like that could be a distinct disadvantage at times, and she wondered if she could learn to control it. Not here, though. Two weeks wasn’t long enough really. She could hear voices outside, people gathering to go down for dinner, it was time to move. Susan wondered if she could spot the dreamers among her co-students on the course. Doubt it, she told herself. On the surface we all look normal, don’t we?
Richard looked down at the group sitting in rows in front of the small raised steps. A mixed bunch, he decided, a few dreamers among them possibly, a few hard-headed ones who would go away with something out of the course, and perhaps one or two who would really do something with what they learned, not very different from last time.
He paused for a moment to reflect on the group who had just left. With Emmy’s contrivance, a total of five ladies had succumbed to his oh so gentle persuasion that they needed just a little more than the odd sharp word from the lecturers to get the message home. Five lovely ladies and indeed, face down over his desk, bottoms uncovered, waiting for the sting of his cane, they were lovely. Five was an all-time record. How many this time?
Putting all sexy thoughts aside, he launched into his standard introductory remarks, dealing with the purpose and methods of the school, the type of instruction, the degree of student participation, timetable and free time. He introduced the lecturers, and the resident housekeeper, mentioning her nursing abilities along with her capable running of the whole school.
He answered the standard questions and then left the platform to mix with the students, to make lightning assessments of their abilities. It was a constant source of amazement to him that some of the sophisticated and elegant ladies standing around holding glasses of sherry would, sooner or later, come creeping into his office, the very image of naughty schoolgirls, ending up lowering their knickers and leaning over his desk for some extra-curricular discipline. Looking at the women, listening to their refined and intelligent conversation, then picturing them as they would be in his study, it was all he could do not to laugh. That would never do. He was the boss, the all powerful, the one who supervised the course, he was the epitome of authority.
A few enticing bottoms caught his eye and he felt the pressure in his trousers increase; the start of an ominous bulge. Hastily he excused himself from the gathering and hurried away to see if Emmy was in her room alone
She was, with a new magazine to delight him, too. What joys life held!
What more could a man ask?
After only a few days at Cornfield School, Susan felt as if she had been there forever. The schedule ran like clockwork, everyone was friendly, the meals were good and the lectures varied and fascinating. In fact she had completely forgotten about the spanking magazine tucked under the mattress. When she returned to her room one lunchtime to collect some notes she found her magazine lying on the dressing-table. Her heart pounded wildly and the colour flooded into her face as she realised that the maid must have discovered it that morning. But the bed had been made every morning since she arrived, yet the magazine had only just come to light.
Susan walked over to it and picked it up. A tiny slip of paper fell out and she retrieved it from the floor. It was a hastily scrawled note, very much to the point:
If this is what you’d’ like, see Mr Edwards.
Susan blushed again to the roots of her blonde hair. She screwed the note up and threw the magazine into the dressing-table drawer, determined to forget the whole thing. But she couldn’t. During the afternoon session on business relationships her mind kept wandering, trying to put a face to the person who might have discovered the magazine, and with it her guilty secret. Had they looked at it each day since she had arrived? Or had it worked its way towards the edge of the bed with her nightly tossing and turning, until it met the fingers that tucked the sheets in that morning? No, it’s a duvet, not sheets. Unless the under sheet had been changed. That had to be it!
What did Mr Edwards have to do with it? Was he a secret spanker? Susan grew red again at the very thought, admitting in her secret heart that she had fancied him ever since he had stood, so tall and dignified and so very strong, on the platform on the very first day.
With a supreme effort she brought her thoughts back to the discussion and contributed an intelligent remark or two, to the pleasure of the lecturer. He praised her and Susan coloured all over again as eyes turned to her.
That evening she escaped to her room immediately after dinner, not lingering over coffee as she had done previously. She went straight to the dressing-table to see that the magazine was still as she had left it. There were no more notes. Don’t be silly, she thought, a maid wouldn’t look in the drawer. It’s just that I was foolish enough to push it under the mattress.
She sat down in the armchair, holding the magazine. The words were familiar, the photographs provoked familiar thoughts. How much did it hurt? Did the lines last very long? Could you sit on the lines afterwards? Was she strong enough to take six of the best? And what had Mr Edwards to do with it? Could she just go down, knock on his door and say: ‘Mr Edwards I’d like you to cane me please.’ No of course not. Susan blushed again just thinking about it, and put her hands to her burning face. I’d never have the nerve to go and ask him, but what an opportunity to find out, once and for all, realise my fantasies, my secret desires, and no one need ever know. If I bruised, the marks would be gone by the time I went home.
All it needed was courage, a considerable amount of it, and a little encouragement from Mr Edwards – which came sooner than Susan anticipated.
‘Susan Mintell, eh?’ Richard thoughtfully tapped his pen on
the blotter, trying to put a face to the name. Then he recalled the blonde with green eyes, and a pretty face. He’d labelled her as a bit of a dreamer, but she seemed to be doing all right according to the reports. At least there were no adverse comments, as there had been about some of the others.
‘Thank you, Emmy,’ he smiled across the desk at his loyal partner. ‘It’s been a long time since someone turned up here with an actual magazine! At least, one you’ve seen, anyway! Anyone else?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Emmy thought for a moment, looking down at her strong capable hands. ‘That Carole Davidson, you know, the dark one, all pert and spark. I wouldn’t mind betting she’s interested but I don’t know why. Just a feeling.’ She smiled at Richard, whom she loved with total adoration. ‘As for anyone else, well, I’m looking for opportunities.’
‘Thank you very much, Emmy. I know I’ve said it before, and thought it before, but what would I do without you?’ He pulled a sheet of paper toward him and wrote swiftly. ‘There you are, a note for Miss Mintell, see if we can encourage her into the den of iniquity, shall we? Leave it in her room next time you’re passing, and we’ll see what reaction we get.’ He looked thoughtfully at her. ‘And while I’m waiting for the blonde Miss Mintell to make up her mind . . .’
‘We mustn’t let the cane get out of practice, sir.’ Emmy responded, grinning as she stood up and began to unbutton her skirt.
‘Emmy, what would I do without you?’ Richard murmured as he took the cane out of the drawer.
Carole relaxed in the deep armchair in front of the fireplace, letting her eyelids droop in tiredness. The course was as demanding as the brochure had said it would be; discussions and written assignments, lessons in acting, with each person taking the part of someone involved in a business deal or office routine. Something going on all the time to keep the mind alert, the brain functioning. But underneath it all was her longing for David and his arms and body. And, she had to confess, some discipline too. Funny how quickly you become addicted to regular sessions of being put across the knee for a slippering or spanking, or bent over something, waiting for the cane or tawse to land with surprising severity; for the leap of pain followed by the vivid glow makes it all worthwhile. A week and a half to go before she could get back to David, and every part of her longing for some attention, somewhere, from someone. Now, if this were a real school, she could play up and be ordered to the headmaster’s study for six of the best, right now that would be great. But it was futile, thinking that. She’d just have to put up with it.
Next morning, as Carole was leaving her room, Emmy arrived to clean and tidy for her. Carole paused for a moment, last night’s thoughts still fresh in her mind. ‘This was a school, wasn’t it?’ she asked, watching Emmy make the bed.
‘Yes, it was.’ Emmy risked a calculating look at Carole and dropped the usual large hint. ‘Mr Edwards uses the headmaster’s study for his office; kept it just as it was, he has, even the cane is still in the desk!’
Carole laughed a little self-consciously, and dared to ask: ‘Does it ever get used?’
‘Depends on who’s asking.’ Emmy busied herself with her duster, leaving Carole to walk out of the door, thoughtfully considering the answer. So, there was a cane still in the school, and in use, if what Emmy said was right. What next? Go and ask? No, better to contrive an interview and bring the subject round to the original use of the building and so on. Carole went to her first lecture in a brighter frame of mind, unaware that her thought processes had been duplicated many times before by other interested students.
Hazel clutched a large batch of notes under her arm. She had to admit the course was fascinating, and everyone was so pleasant and amenable, but still the aura of school hung over her. She found herself jumping every time someone walked into the room, as if they were the authorities’ checking up on her. She knew she was stupid, but she also knew she couldn’t help it, no matter how hard she tried. The fact that no one shouted or got stern was a help, but somehow -
In the end she tried to discuss it with the girl in the next room, but she only laughed.
‘Why don’t you ask Mr Edwards if you can have a chat with him?’ the girl suggested. ‘He’ll soon put all your fears to rest, he’s so nice.’
Sensible advice, thought Hazel. She would write Mr Edwards a note, asking if she could see him. It would be a shame to waste the firm’s money over some silliness she couldn’t control.
Susan found the note in her room when she returned from the last session of the day. The memo was brief, and to the point, exactly the sort of thing she wished she could write.
I like to see all the students at least once during their stay. I wonder if you would care to visit my office at five o’clock tomorrow for a brief chat. Richard Edwards.
Susan felt her stomach turn over completely, and settle down into a mass of raving butterflies. It was the answer to her prayer, but only half the answer. She was going to be inside the office, but what next? Should she broach the subject of her interest or would he? Don’t be foolish, she reproached herself, how could he? He doesn’t have the remotest idea I’m interested! She pulled open the drawer to find a comb and saw her magazine. Her stomach did another impossible flop. Someone might have mentioned it. What if they had? Even worse, what if they hadn’t? This was a once in a lifetime chance, to turn dreams into reality, to see whether she liked it or not.
If he doesn’t mention it then I will, she decided, setting the comb down on top of the happy bare-bottomed lady. And tonight I won’t need the stories, that’s for sure!
The next day passed in a sort of haze. Several times Susan found her attention wandering to an alarming degree as a picture of Richard Edwards, cool, suave and so authoritative, floated before her eyes. Five o clock seemed an age away and yet as she trailed from the lecture hall to the afternoon session the clock hands appeared to be speeding.
At last, with trembling fingers, she knocked on his office door just as the hands touched the hour. The door opened and she saw Richard sitting behind his desk. She felt awkward and clumsy as she responded to his invitation to sit down. They chatted about trivial items for a few moments and Susan felt herself relaxing under the influence of his friendly smile and benevolent gaze. She assured him she was enjoying the course, and learning a good deal from it.
Then he dropped the first large hint. ‘Is there an area of interest the course doesn’t cover, Susan?’
She felt herself blush, very slightly. Were they thinking of the same thing or was she jumping to conclusions?
°I’m not sure I know what you mean.’ She raised tentative eyes to his and saw the friendly smile change to an outright grin.
‘I think you do.’
This was the moment, thought Susan, it’s now or never. She took a deep breath to bolster fast-flagging courage.
‘Yes, I do know what you mean. There isn’t any discipline in the course, is there?’ It was said. The words lay on the desk between them, charged with suppressed excitement and nervous energy. She waited for Richard to pick up the conversation again, feeling herself going tense with sexy feelings.
‘No, there isn’t any discipline in the course, because there are many who would object to it. But it is here for those who ask for it, Susan.’
‘I’m not sure I’m asking,’ she confessed suddenly. She twisted her hands nervously round and round in her lap. ‘I’m not sure I’m asking but -’
‘Why not tell me about it?’
The voice was smooth, persuasive and strong. Susan melted under the authoritative manliness and began to talk.
‘I’ve been interested for a long time and thought I was peculiar. Then I found a magazine on a bookstall in London; it opened my eyes to a whole new world. I found out I wasn’t strange after all, that there are many people like me. I’ve read lots of magazines since, but there hasn’t been anyone I could ask
, there hasn’t been anyone who has offered -’ she trailed off, looking at Richard with pleading eyes, asking silently for him to take the initiative, as she was afraid of asking out loud, of actually putting it into words.
‘I have a cane right here in my desk drawer.’ He raised a hand to stop her from saying anything. ‘There have been other ladies in my office who felt just as you do, Susan. Just as nervous, and just as afraid. I can assure you they enjoyed the experience, some of them actually came back for more before they left Cornfield School, I hope it did them a lot of good. I can also assure you that no one, outside of you, me and Emmy, who saw your magazine and whom I trust completely, will ever know about it. I wouldn’t dream of announcing to the assembled masses that Susan Mintell reported to the owner of Cornfield School and bent over the desk for six of the best whilst she was in residence! Think what the papers would make: of that! So, absolute discretion and confidence is assured Are you willing?’
As he talked, Susan felt herself going weak with desire to experience it.
‘Yes,’ she replied, before she could stop herself. If she had had more time, if Richard had phrased it any other way she might well have chickened out. But the die was now cast, the decision taken from her by the needs of her own body.
Richard was opening the drawer and taking out a long thin cane which he whipped through the air.
‘I won’t promise not to hurt, as that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Come on then.’
She stood up a little uncertainly, holding on to the edge of the desk, her eyes riveted to the wicked looking cane. Richard saw her look and laughed.
‘Still worried? Don’t be. Relax, enjoy it: When the lines are fading, you can come back for more to take home with you if you want. But for now, come on, there’s a good girl. Knickers down, bend over the desk, hold on tight to the other side, that’s it.’
Cream of the Crop Page 13