by Sarah Steel
'You're probably thinking of running away,' she remarked briskly, entering behind him.
Rollo turned, guiltily blushing as red as his bottom at how easily she had read his thoughts.
'You'll not get very far. Not without shoes. For the length of your stay at Chersey Manor, you will go barefoot. At all times. And there must be no contact with any of the other residents - not that there'll be much time or opportunity for that. Now get into bed.'
The naked young man slipped thankfully between the cold sheets and curled up in the bed.
'Your studies won't begin until I'm satisfied that I have taken you completely in hand, laddie. Forget about books and exams for now. I'll be training you in more fundamental areas, to begin with. A complete change of attitude is required. Understand?'
Rollo nodded, but his perplexed frown was evident.
'It's all about attitude, laddie. You are here to make up for lost time. And wasted opportunities. You need to shape up. I want you in peak condition, so we'll be spending the first week or so together down in the gym. Keep your hands out on the blanket, laddie. No playing with yourself. Lights out in five minutes. Goodnight.'
'Goodnight, Miss.'
Dr Breunig's leather-gloved hand pushed the plate of lobster away and stretched for the bottle of chilled Chablis. Miss Pringle, who had finished her raspberries and cream, stood up from the dining table. 'Dessert?' she whispered.
The frosted glass in the clenched glove trembled as Dr Breunig nodded eagerly.
Plucking teasingly at the silk belt of her kimono, the blonde wriggled and let her garment gape wide. Rippling her shoulders sensuously, she shrugged the silk kimono off. It fell silently to her feet. Dr Breunig's eyes narrowed. He grunted as the blonde, naked except for her white, underwired bra, trod the carpet softly towards his chair. He lurched forward, his gloved fist stabbing gently at her blonde pubic nest.
'No,' she murmured, brushing his hand aside. She wagged her finger at him, skimming the tip of his nose. 'You know the rules. You know what you must do if you want to play with pussy. We agreed the programme.'
'Please,' he whined, thumbing her mons veneris feverishly.
Miss Pringle took a tantalising step back - just out of his frantic reach. 'You must take your physiotherapy seriously. Use your fingers properly to undo the clasp of my bra - no teeth, mind - and you can have my bare breasts. Do the task quickly, using your thumbs as well, and you can have pussy to play with.'
Breunig smashed his fist down on the table in a fury of frustrated lust.
'Temper, temper,' she chided, purring softly. 'We agreed the programme. I want those hands working again. Properly. Try. You must try. Think what you will be able to do when you regain use of them. Why, in a month or so, you could be spanking my bare bottom. I know you want to.'
He nodded and beckoned her back to him. She relented, bending her superb breasts down to him, their warm weight bulging invitingly in their underwired bondage. He pawed them, dimpling the swollen curves, then squeezed and squashed their soft ripeness. Inching closer, she parted her thighs and steadied herself - arms arching out to the back of his chair - and buried his upturned face in her dominating bosom.
Gasping aloud, Breunig jabbed his gloved finger down to his bulging crotch.
'No, not yet,' she murmured, 'I won't let him out to play until you've done your physio.'
Turning, she sat down on his lap, shuddering as his fierce erection raked the cleft between her splayed buttocks; and, reaching out behind, caught his smashed hands and guided them to the clasp of her bra.
'Concentrate, doctor. Like I taught you. Slowly and methodically. You can do it. And just think of the prize.' She wriggled her bare bottom down onto his thick shaft. He swore softly and moaned. 'Try.'
The erection at her cleft throbbed excitedly as the leather-sheathed fingers fumbled with her stubborn clasp. Easing herself back slightly, she trapped then rode the trousered cock teasingly, all the time urging the crippled fingers to undo the clasp. Suddenly, the bra straps at her shoulders shrivelled and the underwired cups fell free.
'Good,' she cried enthusiastically, joggling her buttocks. 'You are making progress.'
The gloved hands encircled her nakedness. She gasped and writhed as they sought and found, cupped and squeezed, her bare breasts. The trembling fingertips struggled - but failed - to pincer and pleasure the stubby nipples. Extricating herself sinuously, Miss ingle rose and turned, planting her breasts down upon Breunig's face. His head jerked as he tried to suck and bite.
'Patience,' she whispered, guiding the dark, thickened nipples to his eyes. 'I promised to reward you and I shall - but no biting.'
Whimpering softly he nodded obediently, eager for her soft bosom. She cradled him tenderly, breast feeding him with a tender dominance. He sucked contentedly, greedy at the swollen breast. His crotch bulged painfully.
'Can I play with pussy?' he begged, mouthing the words into her warm, silken flesh.
'You've been very good. Very good indeed. At this rate of rehabilitation, you'll be spanking my poor little bare bottom sooner than you think.'
He tensed and spasmed, his leather-gloved fists beating the sides of his chair.
Miss Pringle stood up, peeling her bosom from his upturned face. Fingering her berry-dark nipple, she gazed down at him, jerking and twisting in his chair. He was coming - violently.
'Oh dear,' she murmured, gazing down at the wet stain spreading at his crotch. 'You really shouldn't get overexcited.'
'Pussy,' he snarled, stretching out the twisted fingers of his right hand.
'No,' she replied in a tone of mock severity. 'Enough excitement for this evening, I think.' She took a step back and turned, offering her heavy cheeks to him. 'You've done well tonight, though. I'll let you look at my bottom for a spell. And you can tell me everything you want to do to it when it is, one day, all yours.'
Rollo gasped as the blanket was dragged down to the end of the narrow bed.
'It's six-thirty-seven. Get up, laddie, you're late already.'
Blinking in the sudden blaze of the harsh electric light, Rollo stretched and staggered up out of his bed. Through the window which she had just pushed wide open, he glimpsed the violet light of dawn.
Miss Pringle tossed him a white vest and a pair of black shorts. 'That's all you'll need today,' she barked. 'Wait. Don't get dressed until I've examined that bed.'
Rollo clutched the vest and shorts to his nakedness as he shivered in the spartan bedroom. The blonde peered down to examine the sheet intimately.
'No semen stains,' she observed, delicately brushing away a coil of his black pubic hair. 'Good. You obeyed. Now get dressed.'
He did so, immediately, the ferocity of her punishing strap cross his bottom last night as vivid in his memory as it had been cross his cheeks.
She escorted him down to the refectory. He found fourteen other residents there before him, their seats spaced wide apart, eating in silence. Nobody risked even a furtive glance. Rollo sat down opposite a beautiful Greek girl. Surely he knew her? Yes. Out at a private rave in Hendon. Her father was in shipping. The girl's large almond eyes rose up sorrowfully over her yoghurt. Rollo ached to speak - to find out what had brought her to Chersey Manor - but the ever vigilant Miss Pringle, together with the eyes and ears of six other female trainers, kept him in check.
As he ate his meagre breakfast - nothing like the sumptuous fare he usually enjoyed - he longed for the answers to other questions teeming in his brain. Was the fierce blonde, Miss Pringle, the Greek girl's trainer? Did Miss Pringle discipline the almond-eyed young beauty with that cruel strap? Bare-bottomed? Did those almond eyes - Rollo's tongue thickened and he swallowed with difficulty - blink penitent tears under the lash?
'Hurry up,' Miss Pringle snapped. 'As a newcomer, you have a different schedule. No studies for you, laddie. Not yet. Not until you are ready. It's down to the gym today.'
Across the table, the almond eyes widened - and gazed upon Rollo with
unfathomable pity.
It was chilly in the deserted, echoing gym. Miss Pringle's white pumps squeaked on the polished wooden floor. Rollo trod across the prickling matting gingerly and picked up the medicine ball as instructed.
'Four laps, and keep that ball up high,' the stern blonde commanded, pacing over to the brick wall and taking down a fierce-looking strap.
Rollo shivered as he saw her lithe, muscled arm stretch up to grasp the length of leather - and shivered again as the blonde's firm hand tightened around the supple hide.
Miss Pringle snapped the strap. Its bark was savage - with the promise of a blistering bite. Rollo held the heavy ball up and commenced to jog around the perimeter of the gym. At the end of his first lap, his arms ached and his shoulders sagged.
The strap whip-cracked angrily. 'Don't slacken, laddie,' Miss Pringle shouted. 'Keep up the pace.' Her cherry-red leather strap - four feet long and three inches wide - dangled down at her right thigh and leg, hugging the shapely contours. 'Faster.' The snapping strap echoed twice more.
Rollo closed his eyes and redoubled his efforts. Two laps completed and two to do. The medicine ball grew unbearably heavy between his sweating hands. His forearms grew numb and a burning pain seared his shoulders.
'Come on. You can do better than that.' The curt instruction to jog faster was punctuated by another double snap-crack of the strap.
Rollo, lunging forward into the final lap, stumbled. The ball slipped from his fingers, thudding down without bouncing onto the polished wooden floor.
'Halt.'
Rollo skidded to a halt, stubbing his unprotected toes. Gasping, he nursed his left foot in his right hand and hopped inelegantly around the inert ball.
'Stand still, laddie,' the blonde tormentress snarled, approaching with soft steps of menace. 'Shorts off. Belly down across the ball.'
Uncertain, Rollo hesitated.
Crack. The strap flickered out to its full length, lashing his left buttock with unerring accuracy. Rollo yelped and dropped the bruised foot down.
'Stop clowning around. I said shorts down, laddie, and across that ball.'
Before she had fully refurled the length of cherry-red leather, Rollo was bare-bottomed and belly-down across the surface of the heavy ball, hugging the dull hide with both arms. Thrust out behind, his straightened legs were pressed tightly together. His toes whitened as they dug into the polished wood of the gym floor.
'Stamina, laddie. Stamina and self-discipline. That is what you lack and that is what I am going to instil in you. Especially the self-discipline. Of course...' she chuckled darkly, 'before there is self-discipline there must be discipline itself.'
Crack. She swiped his proffered buttocks with the strap.
'Please—' Rollo whimpered.
'All that wasted opportunity. Gambling and drinking, so your father said. Once I get you licked into shape, we'll tackle your neglected studies. But you must be fit. Fit, receptive and obedient before we embark on any intellectual rigours. Bottom up.'
Rollo, closing his eyes, inched his scalded cheeks up a fraction.
'No, laddie. I'm going to strap it, not powder it. Get it right up. I want it big and round.'
Dreading the strap that was about to bark across his defenceless buttocks, Rollo peeled his thighs away from the soft hide of the ball and proffered his bottom. In his burning pain and shame, a sudden confusion imploded in the belly of his brain. His cock had sprung up, the wet snout of the glistening glans nuzzling the medicine ball.
Crack. The leather strap exploded across his clenched cheeks, searing them with a crimson weal. His cock jerked, thrusting into the soft hide.
Behind his tightly shut eyes, Rollo pictured Miss Pringle's proud breasts thrusting as she bent down to flex the strap, then pictured them bouncing deliciously as she applied the punishing stroke. He imagined her superbly muscled arm, taut and supple. In the grip of her slender hand, the cherry-red leather length of leather. Red leather which left lines of angry crimson across his whipped bottom. His engorged cock pulsed, quickening as his climax tightened inside him.
'Snap, crack. Snap, crack. The blonde lashed the bare bottom twice in a blistering staccato. Rollo squeezed the medicine ball tightly - and his punished cheeks together even more tightly. He trembled, on the brink of orgasm, as he waited for the next stroke.
'Up,' came the unexpected, confusing command.
The dark-haired Adonis scrambled to his feet, attempting to cover his red bottom by dragging down the hem of his white vest.
'Shorts on.'
Rollo stepped into the black shorts and drew them up over his sore buttocks.
'Now pick the medicine ball up,' his tormentress ordered, studying the proud erection piercing the front of his shorts. 'Two more laps,' she whispered. 'And laddie—'
'Yes, Miss?' Rollo swallowed anxiously.
'Don't spill any of that precious seed,' she purred, gently swinging the strap up to tap against his balls. 'You'll be needing every drop of it, presently.'
Miss Pringle, her strap around her neck so that the two leather tails fell down across the swell of each breast, held a short stick of yellow chalk between her fingers.
'The long jump,' she announced. 'The ultimate test. Once I have trained you successfully, you will, I think, be ready to undertake your studies.'
And once I get to my books - and study hard - I can earn my release from Chersey Manor, Rollo reasoned logically. Better do my best in this damn long jump event.
'Pay close attention, laddie. We'll be trying for three metres.'
But that's only nine feet or so. Rollo couldn't believe his luck. I can jump that easily, no sweat. He almost had to suppress his grin of relief. Then a cloud of anxiety dulled his eyes. Had the beautiful, strict blonde said high jump or long jump? Nine feet would be almost impossible for him to clear.
'The long jump—'
Rollo did not pay close attention as Miss Pringle praised the track event with unreserved gusto. Bending down and kneeling on one knee, she drew a thick yellow line with her stick of chalk across the polished wood.
Peeping furtively at the curve of her hip and thigh, Rollo thrilled to the feline grace of the mature blonde he had come to both dread and adore.
'And here, I think,' Miss Pringle grunted, squatting down three metres further along the floor and scoring the point with her yellow chalk. 'Shorts and vest off. Toes against the chalk line.'
So, there had to be a catch. Was it to be a standing-start jump? That could be tough. Puzzled - and anxious - Rollo kicked off his shorts, peeled off his vest and inched his toes up to the jumping-off line.
'Start masturbating,' the blonde instructed, her tone brisk and cynical.
Rollo gulped. He looked at her, blushing furiously.
'Begin,' she barked harshly, retrieving her strap from its resting place against her bosom and snapping it ominously.
'I want you to come,' she instructed. 'This is the long jump. Now get your semen across that line,' she thundered, jabbing her straightened finger behind her down to the second yellow chalk line. She kissed her coiled strap lingeringly. 'I'll assist you,' she whispered into the cherry-red hide.
She positioned herself at right-angles next to him, her strap raised. Rollo reluctantly enclosed his fist around his shaft and started to pump rhythmically.
Crack. The searing stroke exploded across his cheeks. Rollo cried out in anguish as he rose up on his toes. Clenching his whipped cheeks together he pumped harder - faster. Crack. Crack. He came, his silver spurt splattering down a good half metre short of the prescribed mark.
'Kneel. Bow down your head and get your bottom up, laddie. I can see we've some ground to cover before you come up to the mark.'
Crack. Crack. The strap spoke viciously as the cruel blonde substituted searing strokes for her stinging words.
A little later, she dragged her fingernails across his nipples, peaking them up in pleasurable pain. A little later still, his flaccid length straightened and rose up.
'Up,' she instructed, flexing her strap and tapping the tip of his straining shaft with the cherry-red leather. 'Toes to the line, laddie. Let's see how you shape up this time.'
'At last, Minister. Your secretary guards you jealously. Quite difficult to reach you, even on this number.'
'You have to get past three of 'em, Breunig,' the minister chuckled into the phone. 'All well trained. Speaking of training, how is that son of mine progressing? I am particularly concerned with his Latin. Needs it for the scholarship. And maths. Geometry defeats him.'
'Rest assured, minister, your son is responding to Miss Pringle's strict training schedule.'
'Pringle, eh? That the bronze medallist you mentioned. Capable, I presume?'
'Quite capable, Minister. A fine, strapping young athletic type. Pushing Rollo very hard down in the gym, even as we speak.'
'Not much use him being in the damn gym, Breunig. It's Latin and geometry he needs.'
'Miss Pringle has her methods, Minister. I can vouch for them, personally,' the doctor purred.
Rollo tossed feverishly in his bed. It was the end of his fifth day of nightmarish incarceration at Chersey Manor. Repeatedly punished and humiliated into abject submission, he lay awake in the narrow bed, frantically trying to work out how he could improve his 'long jump'. He had tried - and failed - several times, despite jerking his hips and thrusting them forward at the point of ejaculation. He had even scowled sullenly - deliberately - at the strap-wielding blonde, to earn a cutting stroke across his cheeks just as he came. But he could not reach the yellow chalk mark three metres away.
No. He'd never do it. And until he did, his books must remain closed and his revision studies neglected. Oxford seemed to slip away on the horizon: out of his reach like the yellow chalk line. Was be doomed to remain here at Chersey Manor for weeks? Months?
Rollo sat up in bed. What he needed was the right fantasy. If he could just conjure up the right images, the most exciting stimulus, he thought, he could fuel his orgasm and reach the target.