by Tara Black
Afterwards, Tamsin stopped at the car and took the cane from me. She bent it into a curve, swished it through the air and tapped it smartly on her palm a few times. ‘So did the boy really ask for a beating? I mean, those marks...’
‘Indeed he did, and without any prompting from me. Though he may have got a little more than he was bargaining for. He brought the weapon back with him: it’s a good foot longer than that, a deal thicker and very pliant.’ Tamsin shuddered but continued to size up the one she was holding.
‘If we find somewhere quiet, do you reckon I could get an idea – that’s just an idea, mind – of what this thing actually feels like?’
Just three hundred yards beyond the pub was an open gate which a quick recce showed led into a smallish area of pasture, unoccupied and shielded by overgrown hedges. Tamsin nosed the vehicle in until we were out of view of the road, and turned off the engine. We sat in silence for a few moments then she opened her door.
‘We’d better get on with it.’ Outside she lay across the bonnet from the side, then frowned. ‘I don’t think I know what I’m doing, guv.’
‘Okay. Think Bingley of the lower sixth: a wayward girl caught smoking behind the bike sheds yet again. The headmistress has decided a short sharp shock is the only answer.’
‘Right. That sounds good. Well, not good really ‘cos I’m terrified. Is the skirt all right on?’ The short grey garment reached just to the tops of the thighs, and its stretch material was moulded perfectly to the shape of the buttocks. Suddenly I felt distinctly warm.
‘The thong won’t get in the way, so a layer on top of that will be quite acceptable. To begin with.’ Standing slightly ahead of target at the front bumper I measured up the instrument. It was a bit of a stretch, which was all to the good since it removed the danger of the tip biting into the far flank. ‘Three first. Let’s try to take them in one go.’ The cane was well balanced and I brought it down dead centre with a good whack.
‘Shit. Oh shit.’ The bottom quivered but the body stayed put, and the next two were received in silence. Then a small voice said, ‘Can I have a minute, please?’
‘Of course.’ She shot up and kneaded with both hands, legs doing an impression of walking on the spot. Then she went back down without a word. ‘You’re doing well. How about three more bare? Then that’ll be a decent six of the best.’
‘You’re the boss.’ With the skirt rolled up the double-edged tracks were surprisingly vivid, and I painted another three on the compliant flesh without more ado. I busied myself returning the implement to the back seat beside its twin, during the brief burst of blowing and jumping. Then we got back into the Porsche and after another short silence drove off.
At the End, Tamsin pulled up round the back with rather a flourish and made a beeline for Mrs Jencks, who appeared in response to the noise. She said something into her ear and the pair vanished into the house without a backward glance. No doubt Mathilde’s special lotion was going to be put to good use again. As for me, I’d been feeling decidedly lickerish ever since the triumphant breakfast and the caning of those peachy cheeks had brought me to a pitch that was crying out for attention. And who better to give it, I suddenly thought, than a certain black mechanic, if only she was in the mood...
In the yard there stood a gleaming Cadillac, all pastel blue and fifties chrome that resembled the fins of a spaceship, but there was no sign of life. At the top of the outside stair to the flat the door stood open, so I called a hello and there was an answer from within.
‘Jane, is that you? Come on up.’ Ama was standing with her back to me at the sink, cleaning her hands. ‘I heard you got the books.’ She turned to grab a towel, sleeves of the boiler suit pushed up to the elbows. The zip was open to the waist and it looked very much as though there was nothing underneath. In two paces I was behind her, hands through the side openings onto bare hips.
‘Sure did. Though that wasn’t all.’ I pulled her close, feeling the warmth of the body against mine. ‘I got my comeuppance for lamming into you. Do-as-you-would-be-done-by sort of principle, the other way round.’ Ama twisted out of my grip with a laugh.
‘Oh, did you now? Show. Pronto.’ I dropped the trousers at once and she had a good look. ‘Mmm. These must have been sore. Bit difficult to say at this late stage, Dr Librarian, but I’d guess the swishy stick was quite like the one in the other room.’
‘Almost identical.’
‘Oh Jane, what have you been up to?’ She found my wet crotch and I came clean about my recent exercise. ‘Here, I have just the thing for one in your state. Get over and don’t argue.’
‘Yes, Ms Mechanic, anything you say.’ She stacked two pillows on the edge of the bed and I did as told. An oval-shaped object was dangled in front of me that gave off the smell of new leather. She pressed it to my bare behind and I pushed back in a kind of reflex.
‘Ooh, the lady’s begging for it. So here we go.’ There was a whoosh and a smack, then another and another.
The slaps were soon falling thick and fast and my arse was burning with a fire that connected straight to the groin. Afterwards, Ama opened me wide where I lay and brought me slowly to another peak that left me gasping.
By the time I spread her out to inspect the faded marks I’d made, with all that followed, it was just half an hour short of dinnertime. Since the Master-elect, as it were, was away to meet his daughters, it would be the sparky kind of gathering of staff round the kitchen table that I did not want to miss.
We showered together under the device fitted to a large, old-fashioned bath, and Ama asked me what I thought of the prospective incumbent.
‘You mean, ahem, “Sir”?’
‘Yes, he’s not exactly given to informality. He came and found me yesterday when the Caddy downstairs arrived. That’s not my type of thing really, but he’s got some top flight Euro stuff on the way. Like a 1934 Bugatti.’
‘Sounds like you’re going to have a whale of a time under the new management.’ While I soaped her back she went on in a low voice that had me straining not to miss the words, with their edge of agitation. ‘I don’t know if I should tell you this, but he cornered me in the workshop with a bag and took out this whip. His great-grandfather’s slave whip, believe it or not, and he’s showing it to me. Can you imagine? And it’s obvious, just obvious, that it’s no ornament or souvenir. The evil bastard of a thing is for use. What’s worse is – and this is fucking shameful – I got so juiced it was like a tap. To see my pants after you’d think I’d peed myself.’ She turned to me and I held her tight.
Then after a minute I said gently, ‘Look, lover, if there’s even a hint of blackmail in this, we’ll give him a bloody good talking to. But if it really does turn you on...’ I reached over, pulled down a big towel from the rack and wrapped it round her. ‘Come on, let’s move. You’d better find a drier, otherwise we’re going to arrive late together with wet hair and set the tongues wagging.’
Lessons
Mary Lou and Maybelle were not happy about the situation I found them in at our first meeting.
‘Daddy, we so don’t deserve for this to happen.’
‘Bel’s right. Please, Daddy. It was a teensy little thing, not at all bad really. Okay, stern talking to bad, maybe, pants down bad no way.’ But the pants were down and were plainly going to stay down until patriarchal justice had been done. They were of a cream stretch material neatly folded around the thighs, and joined by a narrow band of lemon-yellow underwear that matched the crop tops of the upper halves. The young ladies were arrayed side by side over the rounded top of a trunk with their hands gripping a floor-level rail on the far side. Thus the bodies were pulled well forward making the buttocks, bared for six inches above and below, into the outstanding features of the display. The piece of furniture occupied the centre of the room that was to become the new study: a choice recommended by the first-floor prospect across sculpted garden hedge
s to the tree-lined drive and the ornamental gates in the distance. However, at that point the more arresting view was undoubtedly to be found on the inside of the windows.
‘That is enough. Rules are rules and you will do well to accept your chastisement with good grace.’ The voice was not raised; it did not need to be. The gravelly tones forbade disagreement and the sighing and lowering of heads indicated the girls had been there before. I was at one time acquainted with such a place myself, and I knew that when resistance only made things worse it was better to bow to one’s fate and get it over with. That morning I was to be one of its agents, called upon to give instruction in ‘the English instrument’, and I had arrived suitably equipped with Edith’s gifts. The Master took one from me and flicked it a couple of times. I guessed it was being compared unfavourably with his solid paddle so I demonstrated that, properly wielded, a humble school cane could slice through the air in a way that meant business. Since his preferred hand was the left, we were able to stand one at each end of the trunk with easy access to a bottom of our own, as it were. I laid the rod across the cheeks of mine to begin the demonstration, and he copied my movement.
‘One of the cardinal points, sir, concerns range. Since rattan is very flexible, if one reaches too far across the target the tip of the rod will whip into the opposite flank with an excruciating bite. In severe punishments one may intend to do just that, in which case the body would need to be restrained. For ordinary purposes, though, one should aim for the end of the rod to land here...’ I indicated a point perhaps an inch beyond the summit of the right-hand mound ‘...bearing in mind that exerting force is very likely to extend the arm further than anticipated. Then one is free to strike unstintingly without fear of overdoing it.’
‘I see, Dr Greene.’ While I still had his full attention I thought it better to round off the brief introduction before it became too much of a lecture.
‘The rest is more obvious, and then it’s simply a matter of practice. The fleshiest parts, say between the top of the cleft and the undercurve of the cheeks, are ideal for vigorous work and well-spread strokes may be multiplied at will with no lasting damage. While the backs of the thighs are not ruled out, a sustained attack on their sensitive surface would properly belong in a thrashing of the severest kind. And I understand, sir, that that is not our present task.’
‘Indeed not.’ The odd sound he made was indeed a chuckle, as the hint of a smile confirmed. ‘No, my beauties have earned such a thing before and doubtless will again. This time, however, I had in mind a more moderate lesson, yet sharp enough for its effects to be felt well beyond a single day.’ A man after my own heart! Whatever his failings, he had hold of a basic principle of corporal punishment, one that I felt the cane was uniquely placed to fulfil. There was the chance win of a fresh convert to my belief, and I remember a distinct sense of anticipation as I raised the implement to inflict the first cut.
When I brought it down there was a gasp at impact, then an ‘Ow-ow-ow’ as the pain hit home. But despite the shocked squeal the body stayed in place for the next. Good girl, I thought. Two more, progressively harder, had the bottom cheeks a-quiver yet still there was total compliance. Then it was the Master’s turn. He spent a long time measuring the cane against the unmarked surface and adjusting his stance. With a jerk he delivered a stroke from on high that I sensed was wrong from the start. It grazed the underside of one buttock and slashed across the backs of the legs. The hands shot back and with a howl the young woman writhed on her belly like a stranded fish. The patriarch tapped his instrument impatiently on the wood.
‘Back in position, now! Or when we’re done it will be the paddle.’ Not one to admit a mistake, it seemed, and I waited for signs of rebellion against the injustice of it all. However, there was only a heavy sigh as the girl resumed her grip on the bar and showed us the angry weal already purple on the fair skin.
‘You’d do better to get your eye in.’ It came out snappishly so I went quickly on in a more conciliatory fashion. ‘Once you’re sure of the aim, sir, then you can up the force.’
‘Right.’ He appeared less than happy, but proceeded to lay on two nicely controlled cuts that the girl was able to take with no more fuss than her sister. Three more apiece and it began to look as though we had a canesmith in the making. He traced with a finger one of the raised tracks he’d made, and nodded approvingly.
‘Dr Greene, what would you say to another six before we call time?’
‘It should be enough to make an impression, sir. May I suggest a change of places first?’
It was done and the caning resumed. We were both hitting harder than before and the bodily responses showed it. However, the recipients proved themselves to be stalwarts who held fast and remained in their places until told they could rise. We turned our backs to admire the outside view, allowing a discreet minute or two for mutual commiseration and restorative rubbing, before the rather well marked bottoms were given a final inspection.
Lou and Bel restored their clothing to its proper place and embellished the thanks required for the punishment with an exaggerated formality. With each bare midriff adorned by a thong emerging from hipster jeans they made a fetching sight, and were plainly not the airheads I had first supposed. The father drew his offspring to him, and they seemed happy enough to accept an arm on the shoulder as he explained to me that a birthday was approaching.
‘They have been raised under a curfew for as long as I can recall, and it was for a breach of that in my absence that they’ve now paid. However, less than a month hence these young ladies reach the age of majority and will be free to come and go as they choose. In addition, I have undertaken from that date to forgo the right to impose discipline as I see fit. As it happens, Dr Greene, the date coincides with that of the tableau we are to commemorate, so there will be cause for celebration indeed.’
First one twin and then the other had dropped into a squatting position beside the paterfamilias during his little speech. When he finished, Lou pouted up at him.
‘Now, Daddy, do we get a promise you won’t go for overkill in the final weeks?’
‘Too right, sister,’ Bel chipped in quickly. ‘We could be facing a new policy to max the whacks before it’s too late.’ As the father looked down at them, shaking his head indulgently, my suspicion was growing that there was more to the trio than a Victorian father ruling with a rod of iron, and it came back to me that the estimable Mrs Beaton had said as much.
‘And that’s not all, Bel. Can we be sure that the heavy hand really does a vanishing trick on the 15th? Ka-boom, puff of smoke, never to be seen again.’
‘Good question, Lou, and I got another one. If – and we are totally in the if-ness here – the paddles disappear—’
‘And the canes, Bel.’
‘And the canes, then I don’t know about you, but I might, just might, even just a tiny bit, start to miss them.’ By now the mock seriousness of the discussion had given way to giggles and I had the uncomfortable feeling of eavesdropping on the reputed family business that was none of mine. So I mumbled a quick excuse and made for the door, though I couldn’t help hearing the Master declare that what he would give up was a right, so he would still, of course, be open to invitation. Then, as I closed it, I couldn’t help seeing that the paternal trousers were flaunting a quite substantial bulge only inches from the faces of the daughters that seemed, to my – by that stage – rather fevered eye, to be turning purposefully in that very direction.
Monday morning, early, we returned to London. There was little that could be done while the transcripts were being prepared and the boy was reportedly content to sit in on the process until the following weekend.
‘Ambient okay with you, guv?’ said Tamsin, and I grunted vague approval to avoid showing my ignorance. The car’s speakers began to pour out a slow, cocooning pulse and I was happy to sink into a reverie while she negotiated the motorway traffic with an
easy flair.
Back at the BL the first few days passed in a whirl. While Dominic had held the fort admirably as usual, there was still a mound of paperwork and a string of rescheduled meetings, at which I was obliged to disguise myself in a suit either to argue our corner for a slice of funding or defend it from unwelcome restrictions. Then on Wednesday night I returned from a well-earned glass or three of cold beer to find a message that had been switched through to the machine in my flat on the top floor.
Hi, Dr Greene, this is Lou. We thought you oughta know Daddy’s headed your way to see the books. More to settle was the drift and I guess you already know his way of getting things settled. He’s been practicing, too. So you better watch your – er – back. Sorry!
There was a burst of giggling cut off by the click of the receiver, and the home taped voice telling me that was the lot. I went to the cupboard and poured out a nightcap. Was the patriarch on the warpath? Or was there a joke I wasn’t getting? Or both? I would find out soon enough and it was difficult to take the warning seriously with the amber liquid so agreeably tickling the throat.
As soon as the doors opened the next day I left instructions at the main desk that a tall Texan in his later years asking for Rare Books or me should be sent straight over. He would not give a name let alone offer credentials, but I was prepared to vouch for him. Then I briefed Dominic that he was to keep the man waiting while he buzzed me down below in the half-basement where our collections were stored. There I planned to lurk amongst the new acquisitions, whose loss to the house was apparently still rankling its master.
It was an hour before I made it downstairs, where Rachel was putting stuff into the computer database from a notepad filled with tiny neat writing. Her main work was across the road, but permitted secondments to us from time to time when a need arose. She had short dark hair with appealing hazel eyes kept hidden behind thick lenses and, I’d had occasion to notice, was quietly interested in some of our documented ‘deviations’. Open on the desk beside her was a copy of The Model Household, of 1853, and I tapped on the illustration of a mistress birching her maid.