‘But we cannot finish off without giving you something to remember your remedial session by,’ he went on. ‘So I have a little surprise for you. I do not want any of you to raise your heads or try to look behind, and if you do I’ll have to use the cane after all, which I can assure you is not an experience you’re likely to enjoy.’
He moved on to Hayley, who shuffled and wiggled to escape his attentions, but ignoring this he explored her exposed flesh with his implement of punishment.
‘Lucy,’ he called then, ‘please would you bring one of the paddles from the storeroom?’
Lucy’s heart jumped. She couldn’t go out there, surely? She wondered if Mr Galsworthy had made a mistake, and sat rooted on the seat, but the instructor turned his head to face the storeroom.
‘I haven’t got all night, girl,’ he said impatiently. ‘It doesn’t matter which one you bring.’
Torn between the desire to remain hidden and a sudden impulse to reveal herself, Lucy hesitated. Then, her wish to complete her flatmates’ humiliation overcoming her trepidation, she grabbed one of the wooden bats hanging by the door and walked into the hall.
‘Good,’ said Mr Galsworthy, approvingly. ‘Now, I have three naughty girls here who need a good paddling to teach them the error of their ways. Would you care to oblige?’
Lucy felt her stomach do a cartwheel. Her, chastise her own flatmates? But the more she thought about it the more it appealed to her. She considered their ongoing belligerent behaviour towards her, and savoured a wicked desire to have her revenge. It was all very well seeing them humiliated by another, but she knew then that the only thing that would truly satisfy her would be to punish them herself. She cast her eyes over the three raised bottoms on the horse, and grinned mischievously.
‘Yes, Mr Galsworthy, I would,’ she said eagerly. ‘Thank you very much.’
‘Is that - ?’ Hayley started, but was cut short by a vicious swat across her generous buttocks from the cane. She let out a squeal of pain and put her head down again quickly.
‘Be quiet, girl,’ ordered Mr Galsworthy. ‘If you try to move again you’ll get the thrashing of your life.’
He turned to Lucy. ‘I’d like you to give these bad girls a thorough spanking with the paddle,’ he instructed. ‘Keep going until their bottoms are just the right shade of red - I’m sure Dr Tovey has given you enough experience to know when to stop.’
Lucy blushed, and looked down.
‘You may begin when ready, Lucy,’ he went on. ‘Don’t hold back, now.’
Lucy took up her position. The view was certainly enticing; three firm bottoms in a row, each quivering slightly in anticipation, a few marks from the cane present here and there. Hayley’s rump in particular had an angry stripe across it where Mr Galsworthy had caught her. Lucy smiled with satisfaction, and traced the mark with a finger. Hayley stiffened, but obediently kept her head down and didn’t try to rise.
Lucy started with Emma, who was on the left end of the tiny row, giving a tentative swat with the paddle against the smooth cheeks presented for her. The wood left a pink sheen where it landed, as well as giving a satisfying slap that was amplified by the cavernous hall. Starting to enjoy herself, Lucy swung back and planted a firmer spank on the right buttock, causing Emma to release a rather pathetic squeak of protest.
‘Come on, Lucy,’ Mr Galsworthy urged. ‘I’m sure you can do better than that.’
Not wanting to let the instructor down, Lucy gave Emma a much firmer smack. The broad flat surface gave off a mighty crack as it struck the girl’s posterior, eliciting a yell from her. That felt good, Lucy thought, quickly followed it up with another, and then Emma’s bottom was soon quivering to the rhythm of the paddle as Lucy spanked her harder and quicker, beginning to get the hang of the implement.
To her credit Emma did not try to evade her punishment, but gripped firmly to the edge of the horse and took what was coming pretty well. She was vocal, though, and during her chastisement she let out all sorts of shrieks as the paddle fell. Lucy felt the familiar warm glow of arousal as Emma got more and more agitated, and took real pleasure in spanking her flatmate until the girl’s bottom was a rosy-red, and then moved on to Nicola.
She started on her quite gently, sensing that the secret of punishing another female was to begin softly, and then build up the intensity of the spanking. That way the chastisement lasted longer and no doubt produced the deep warm feeling that Miss Martin so effortlessly engendered in her. She began by peppering Nicola’s slim bottom with a series of deft slaps, gradually building up the friction. As she went on she realised her suspicions about the redhead had been correct; Nicola’s pert bottom actually rose to receive its punishment as it was meted out, so Lucy increased the intensity of the spanking. Nicola moaned as the paddle struck her harder, her bottom starting to redden to match her companion’s. Lucy began to move the paddle around, smacking the tops of Nicola’s thighs as well as her bottom. For her part, Nicola spread her legs slightly, rubbing herself against the wooden side of the horse. Her cries were becoming more pronounced. Lucy worked with her, swinging the paddle quickly, spanking her harder and making her bottom recoil from the smacks of the wooden paddle. With her two flatmates obediently bent over on either side, their firm naked bodies held taut across the horse, Nicola raised herself on tiptoes, crying out with a mingled expression of pleasure and pain as she was paddled. Erect nipples now surmounted her breasts, her exposed sex showing the first glistening of excitement. Lucy worked even faster and harder, whipping her hand back and forth. Nicola began to gasp as she was spanked, her head bowed and her knuckles white from gripping the suede of the horse, and eventually Lucy judged she’d had nearly enough, her bottom a bright cherry-red, her cries more pronounced and tinged with pain.
Remembering the treatment she’d received from these three, Lucy let fly with two very hard spanks, making Nicola’s buttocks bounce violently and sending a couple of great claps around the hall. The girl cried out loudly, and then hung limply across the horse, her posterior looking very sore indeed, and then breathing heavily she settled back against the cool wood, nuzzling her crotch against it sensuously. Lucy lightly caressed her punished backside with her hand, and the redhead moaned softly, completely compliant.
Then Lucy’s attention turned to her most prized victim, the ringleader of the gang and the chief architect of her misery. Smiling with intent, she left Nicola alone and moved along to the last naked bottom. Hayley was tense, the muscles in her legs tight as she waited for her punishment. Enjoying the moment, Lucy ran a finger up her thigh, relishing Hayley’s obvious discomfort. The poor girl did not enjoy being played with, and Lucy exploited this, revelling in the knowledge that she was about to get a sound thrashing. She placed the surface of the paddle against Hayley’s full bottom, gently pressing the warmed surface against her flesh. She had a pleasantly rounded figure, with plenty of flesh to work on. Lucy knew she would be able to take a pretty thorough spanking, and teasingly ran the edge of the paddle between her slightly parted legs. Hayley twitched, but did not move. Evidently one taste of the cane had been enough for her, and she obediently remained in position. Lucy licked her lips and condescendingly patted the tops of Hayley’s buttocks.
She had quite forgotten the presence of Mr Galsworthy, so engrossed was she in the degradation of her former antagonist. She could tell Hayley was getting annoyed, her shoulders tense, her stance crouched and incompliant.
Lucy lifted her hand, drew the paddle up and back, and delivered the hardest swipe she could muster. Hayley jerked and shrieked over the slap of the wood against flesh and the creak of the horse. Without waiting for her victim to recover, Lucy let fly another crack with the paddle - and again, and again. Hayley opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Lucy let fly again, whipping the paddle back and forth, spanking Hayley’s posterior mercilessly until it had turned a bright pink. Each smack echoed
around the hall, accompanied by Hayley’s squeals and cries. She was utterly defeated. She had given up any pretence of control and hung limp over the horse, her rear end mercilessly paddled as she slumped there. Lucy was in her element, spanking her with gleeful abandon, enjoying the shrieks for leniency she produced. She felt she could have gone on all night, whipping her tormentor, making her pay for her bullying.
After a time, though, reason returned, and Lucy stepped back to admire her handiwork, her eyes sparkling and her face flushed with excitement and effort.
‘Very good, Lucy,’ Mr Galsworthy said. ‘You punished them with great enthusiasm, I must say. Do you think they’ve learned their lesson?’
‘I hope so,’ she answered proudly. ‘They did deserve putting in their place, and I’m glad it’s been done.’
Mr Galsworthy nodded. ‘I think so too.’ He took the paddle from her. ‘Now, I think you’ve done just about all you came to do,’ and he gestured towards the large double doors.
Lucy sighed; it seemed her adventure was drawing to a close. ‘I suppose so,’ she said.
‘I hope your experience was a rewarding one,’ he said. ‘Now run along and I’ll finish up in here.’
Lucy allowed him to direct her to the doors, but paused just before them. ‘What will happen to them now?’ she asked, already missing the authority she had just been made to relinquished.
Mr Galsworthy turned to look back at the three exhausted naked forms still slouched over the horse.
‘We’ll see,’ he said non-committally, and then a strong hand on her shoulder told her she had definitely outstayed her welcome.
‘Thank you, Mr Galsworthy,’ she said politely. ‘I appreciate what you’ve done for me.’
‘I’m glad,’ he said. ‘Be sure to pass my regards to Dr Tovey when you see him,’ and with that Lucy was ushered out into the corridor.
Sighing a little she turned and left the building; it had all ended rather suddenly, but there was no denying that it had felt very good to exact revenge. A little thrill ran through her as she recalled her feeling of power, and then she walked the short distance back to the flat, a new sense of calm present within her. If nothing else, she thought, she was guaranteed a good night’s sleep.
Lesson Four
For Lucy time passed in something of a flurry over the following few days until her next lesson. She was alone in the flat during the day, and on the few occasions she bumped into her flatmates they shuffled off to their rooms, avoiding eye contact. Matters had proceeded very satisfactorily, she thought on reflection. There was no repeat of the nocturnal disturbances that had plagued her throughout the term, and as long as her flatmates were happy to keep a low profile, Lucy was content to get on with her affairs in a newfound and most welcome solitude.
The image of her former antagonists writhing on the floor in an attempt to get each other’s clothes off was one she knew she would treasure for a long time, and wondered whether she really was as submissive as she’d come to believe. Certainly she had taken much satisfaction from thrashing Hayley, as the poor girl draped across the gym horse. Nonetheless, when Lucy compared herself to Miss Martin she had her doubts. Where the music mistress was tall and commanding, she was diminutive, and doubted whether she could ever make a truly effective disciplinarian. And in any case, at the thought of her mistress Lucy’s attentions turned quickly from the savouring of her victory to the nervous thrill of her coming lesson.
She knew her piano teacher would be expecting great things and was determined to try and win her respect, and the triumph over her domestic enemies gave her new hope in the battle against Jenny, too. She approached her practise with a kind of grim determination, resolving to finish the Mozart as soon as possible, and ignoring Miss Martin’s conservative suggestions concerning scheduling she raced to the end and endeavoured to cover the entirety of the remaining material in double-quick time. All spare moments were spent in the practise rooms, playing until her fingers were sore and her eyes tired.
When Friday came Lucy eagerly made her way to Miss Martin’s house and arrived ten minutes early, a marked improvement on her usual last minute appearances. Boldly she rapped on the front door, and a few moments later Jenny opened it sullenly and stood back to let her enter.
The maid had a sign around her neck that read Clumsy, and her knickers were arranged neatly on her head. Her skirt was hitched up at the back in a manner reminiscent of when Lucy had first encountered the bizarre world of Miss Martin’s, and even from the front the red glow of recent punishment was evident.
Lucy grinned with satisfaction. ‘Hello, Jenny,’ she said airily, and brushed past her.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Cavendish,’ Jenny said sourly, closed the door behind her, and Lucy took a long look at her pink bottom as she did so. She really didn’t know which was more satisfying - knowing how uncomfortable the poor maid must have felt with her bottom on display, or the purely aesthetic sight of her two smooth, rosy buttocks wobbling slightly as she turned back to face her.
‘Your uniform is waiting for you, Miss Cavendish,’ Jenny said, slightly petulantly.
‘Very good, Jenny,’ replied Lucy, still smiling.
She walked down the hall then, and changed into her uniform, enjoying the feel of the cool cotton underwear against her skin. Once sure that everything was as it should be, she brushed herself down and went back to the drawing room. Clasping her Mozart in one hand, she knocked gently on the great door.
‘Come!’ came the familiar voice.
Lucy walked in and sat on the piano stool. Miss Martin was standing in the window looking thoughtful.
‘Good afternoon, Lucy,’ she said, absently.
She presented a stunning profile against the hazy light of the street outside. Her coal-black hair cut a precise line against the alabaster of her skin, her slender hands resting gently against an immaculate navy blazer. As if rousing herself from contemplation, she turned towards Lucy, sitting patiently at the piano, and smiled slightly.
‘I trust you are keeping well?’ she inquired.
‘Yes, miss.’
Miss Martin walked over to her desk and took a seat. ‘Dr Tovey informed me that you had a small problem with your flatmates. From what I was able to ascertain, it would seem that you have dealt with that particular problem.’
Lucy blushed and looked down at her grey skirt, knowing that her attempts at chastisement in the gym, although adequately successful, were as nothing compared to the understated expertise of the woman standing before her. ‘I’m not sure about that, miss,’ she mumbled clumsily. ‘I hope so, though.’
Miss Martin laughed elegantly. ‘We shall see in due course, I suppose,’ she said. ‘But for now we will concentrate on your music. Please play C sharp minor for me.’
Lucy then embarked on a series of scales and arpeggios, all of which went rather well. That was followed by a theory test, this time conducted in her uniform, thankfully, which also went pretty well. She only received one warning glance from Miss Martin after getting an interval wrong for the second time, although that in itself was enough to turn her stomach with a spasm of excited fear.
Then came the Mozart. She rattled off the first few pages with no problems, which was, after all, what was expected of her, but she still found it hard not to feel a certain pride in her achievement. There was undeniably a sensitivity to her playing that Miss Martin had definitely coaxed from her by her somewhat unorthodox teaching methods.
When she got to the sections she was supposed to have secured for that week, however, things became less fluent. Soon she was regretting having tried to get to the end so soon, and once again realised how perfect Miss Martin’s assessment of her capabilities was. After a number of error-strewn attempts to master a particularly nasty section, Lucy heard the first ominous sigh of disapproval from behind her. A little lurch of panic gripped her
stomach, and she made another rash stab at it. But her fingers fell over themselves, the music lost as her excitement at being punished drove all moderation from her mind.
Miss Martin raised a slim gloved hand.
‘Lucy,’ she said in a velvety voice that nonetheless held a deep undercurrent of warning, ‘you should have had this passage learnt by now. I will give you one more chance to prove that you have, or I’m afraid I will have to spank you. Now try again.’
At the mention of the word, ‘spank’, Lucy knew she had no chance. It was so long since her bottom had felt the sting of Miss Martin’s hand, and the image of her over her mistress’s knee, her pleated skirt hitched up around her waist and her knickers about her ankles, lodged stubbornly in her mind.
She took a deep breath and tried desperately hard to concentrate. But as always, Miss Martin’s presence was a huge distraction. She found she could faintly hear her breath, the rustle of her dress as she crossed her long legs, the impatient tap of her fingertips against the surface of the table, and as ever, the sensual fragrance of crushed flowers filled her nostrils. The aroma seemed to grow with her excitement until it became a heady intoxicant, driving her arousal and placing her unequivocally under the spell of her beautiful music mistress.
Realising she was unlikely to drive such thoughts from her head, she reluctantly placed her fingers back on the keyboard and began to play again. Initially things went well, her hands coping well with the rippling figures in the bass. Then, however, a sudden remembrance of her the previous week, naked and whipped between Jenny’s trembling thighs, burst unbidden into her thoughts. She stumbled and was unable to make redress. She valiantly fought for a couple of measures, but then had to stop. She hung her head, deeply ashamed, knowing what was coming and resigned to it.
Miss Martin sighed again.
‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I really am very disappointed. I had hoped you would have organised your practise around the guidelines I set you. Perhaps you are not yet quite as mature as I thought you were.’
The Piano Teacher Page 16