April

Three-part story from Blushes 3. Leia Ann Woods re-enacted this story in a Miss Marchmont video called The Finishing School but sadly I lost my copy.

Part 1 - A Secret is Discovered

It was one of those wet afternoons that September can bring as a reminder that summer has slipped into autumn. Rain rattled intermittently against window panes and in the lofty room which Basil utilised as his one-pupil classroom an old-fashioned gas fire hissed quietly, its pipe-clay burners glowing cherry-red. There was a smell of chalk dust and furniture polish, and the light from the tall french windows, filtered through the leaves of an unkempt rhododendron bush outside, lent a greenish cast to the room’s bare, cream-washed walls. The classroom was at the back of the house, away from the noise of traffic along the busy road at the front — away too from busy-body neighbours, screened by the rhododendrons and a large holly tree beside the garden fence. Whatever Basil might want to keep secret from the world at large could be kept secret in that secluded room.

He sat at his desk, elevated on a low dais, and checked through essays done as homework by other of his pupils, and looked now and then to see that his one presently resident pupil, April, was working steadily at the task she had been set. Once he caught her eye as she peeped up at him from beneath her corn-coloured fringe — immediately she bobbed her head down and her pen scratched industriously across her exercise book. He watched her a moment longer, glanced up at the clock on the wall, then went back to his marking.

Distantly, from the depths of the big house, came the sound of a ringing telephone. The girl looked up but instantly bent back to her work as her tutor slipped out of his chair. His shoes clumped across the rooms polished boards and he went to answer the summons; only when his footsteps had faded did his pupil dare stop writing and lift up her head.

She pushed a stray strand of hair back from her face and kept her wide blue eyes on the open door, listening. From far away came the murmur of conversation — she put her pen down and eased the stiffness in her slim fingers and stretched her legs under her desk, her black strapped shoes scraping their heels against the floor. Still she listened, and kept her eyes on the long hallway beyond the classroom door, then she slid her bottom off the bench-type seat she had spent most of the last two hours sitting on and tip-toed across to a row of hooks beside the door where her cardigan hung next to her grey skirt. From a pocket she took a sweet, unwrapped it and put the crinkly cellophane back into the pocket, and tip-toed back to her place after a cautious glance along the hall.

The bits of her bottom left bare by her knickers squeaked faintly against the wood as she slipped onto her bench — she popped the sweet into her mouth and sucked it. Footsteps coming from the hall had her picking up her pen in a fluster and she was writing determinedly when her tutor reappeared, ‘April!’

‘Oh — yes sir?’ She stood up instantly the sweet pushed into one cheek, not forgetting to hook her fingers in the waistband of her knickers and yank them down to the tops of her thighs, a little ritual of Basil’s to be performed whenever a girl ever a girl was spoken to. ‘Whenever I speak to you you are to stand up, and whenever you stand up, I shall expect to see your knickers come down.’ Her blouse stopped short of her little triangle of pubic hair, and her knickers of course afforded her no modesty in that respect. Basil’s glance dipped to where her pants had been.

‘April — your guardian’s wife would like to speak to you. You may take the call in my study.’

‘Yes sir —’ She brushed at her hair again and tugged at her tie.

‘April —’ The tone of his voice startled her. Her eyes widened.

‘Y-yes sir?’

‘Are you eating something?’

‘N-no sir!’ The lie tripped off her tongue before she could stop it, but the blush that rose in her cheeks gave her away, as it always did.

‘Come here!’

She went, hesitantly, one hand fussing nervously at the ruck of maroon knickers around the top of a leg.

‘Open your mouth!’

Her moist pink lips parted, her white teeth opened, and there it was, of course. A tight red oval of raspberry, sucked smooth and shiny.

Basil took a sheet of paper from his desk and held it up to her face. She pushed the sweet out with her tongue, and it plopped to the paper.

‘Go and speak to Mrs Oliver. ‘Yes sir.’ April scurried away, her bare little bottom bouncing pink above her pulled down pants.

She was gone three or four minutes, and then her returning footsteps came hesitantly along the hall, slowing as she approached the classroom door. Her flushed cheeks as she entered the room said plainly that she knew exactly what was about to happen next.

Part 2 - A Bottom is Spanked

The rain had stopped, although big, heavy droplets still slid now and then from the broad leaves of the rhododendron outside the classroom window.

The gas fire continued to hiss complacently and it maintained the comfortable temperature in the high-ceilinged room — it’s bright fumes, however, were no longer the only red-glowing sources of warmth in the classroom.

Basil’s exertions had left him temporarily out of breath, and his face was somewhat heightened in colour — April’s bottom-cheeks though thoroughly outdid his mildly flushed complexion — her young buttocks, which had been methodically strapped with a double-tailed tawse on and off for almost fifteen minutes, had inevitably developed a healthy rubescent glow difficult to match.

Gasping back great soul-felt sobs, bottom-up across her desk, April’s hips still squirmed fitfully as she clutched alternately at the backs of her thighs and the hot-skinned chubbiness of her bum cheeks, tears flooding down her cheeks and pattering to the floor amongst the damp spatter of all the other tears she had shed in the past quarter of an hour.

The strap swinging against his leg, Basil deliberately paced the length of the room, turning in front of the blackboard and retracing his steps. April’s panting accelerated in panic as she heard her tutor’s heavy footfalls returning — she strained up into a position where she could see over her shoulder, wild eyes seeking first the strap and then his face, lips mouthing incoherent pleadings that there would be no more strapping, her bottom mutely adding its own quivery plea by flinching at the sound of each approaching footfall.

Basil scraped a shoe across the boards, slipping his toe underneath the maroon school knickers which April had kicked off in her struggles, and lifted them a few feet in the air so that they landed with a sorry plop in front of the french-windows. A button from the girl’s blouse crunched under his foot as he stopped directly behind his sobbing pupil.

‘Please, please, please —’ The words were whispers pathetic in their timidity, her head drooping down again on the far side of the desk as if in resignation, her bottom shivering convulsively as it waited in abject submission for the strap to thwack across it’s crimson latticed sauciness again.

With his shoe Basil nudged her feet wider apart and she responded by straightening her legs so that the firm muscles in her thighs and calves plumped up under her smooth skin, her toes pushing obediently against the floor. She started as he ran his hand over the hot, trembly bounciness of her punished buttocks, their warmth alive under his palm. He stroked the inside of a thigh, then ran an experimental digit down the moist fold at the conjunction of her legs. He felt her quiver and withdrew his hand, but noticed that she had lifted her hips a fraction and stretched her legs half an inch further apart, her back hollowed and her bottom tilted up as though the touch of his fingertip had prompted her to sudden unexpected eagerness to please.

He realised that her sobbing had ceased; indeed she seemed to be holding her breath. He waited and saw the tension in her body slowly relax, her thighs drifting together a little, her hips subsiding against the desk top. He rested his hand on the back of a leg and slid it slowly up towards her bottom, feeling the tautness returning to her thigh muscles. With the tip of a finger he brushed her there again, as before, and again she lifted her hips a fraction. Which was odd, really, because he had never taught her to do that — and if he hadn’t then someone else obviously had.

‘Um — you may get up now, April.’ The girl’s sigh of relief was readily audible. She scrambled to her feet, turning to face him with breasts bobbing free of her unbuttoned blouse, her eyes avoiding his as she straightened her lopsided tie and fiddled with the blouse’s remaining buttons. ‘Put your essay on my desk and go and tidy yourself up. I shall want to see you back here for maths in half an hour.’

‘Yes sir —’, April scurried across the room to reclaim her knickers, strapped bottom brilliant crimson by contrast with the white of her school shirt. She scampered out of the room with her knickers clutched in her hand, and then returned a moment later to snatch her skirt and cardigan from their hooks beside the door. ‘S-sorry, sir —.’ Several sweets fell from the cardigan’s pocket — with a despairing gasp April fled.

Basil put his strap down and picked up one of the sweets. Sucking reflectively he pondered the fact of April’s apparent understanding of what might be required of a girl spread-eagled half naked across a desk, once her strapping had been accomplished. Presumably she had been obliged to accommodate whoever it had been who had punished her on other occasions. Such innocent naiveté simply begged to be exploited.

Part 3 - Consigned to the Cellar

That evening at about seven o’clock, April’s guardian had phoned. He had called, he said, only to make sure that all was well — in the next ten minutes however, he had led the conversation onto a discussion of the various punishments Basil had found it necessary to inflict upon April’s tender bottom, and Basil, who had found himself in the position of ‘cane-wielder-by-proxy’ on other occasions, realised exactly what the situation actually was.

The male’s wife, no doubt, had either caught him in the act of winkling April out of her knickers, or had realised that there was more to those ‘talkings-to’ up in the girl’s room than she was allowed to know — either way, she had very sensibly insisted that if the girl really needed to be disciplined, then the kind of person to do it was a properly qualified tutor. Basil knew from several telephone conversations with the woman that she had been the prime mover in arranging for April to be sent to him. If he had guessed the details wrong it didn’t really matter — the chat with April’s guardian convinced him that the fellow was far more interested in what April had inside her knickers than in what Basil’s tutoring might put inside her head. Basil wondered how much the man would worry about what he might put inside April. He wouldn’t worry too much, probably, so long as he could persuade April to tell him about it. The girl’s guardian had asked to speak to April, and from the one side of the ensuing conversation he had heard Basil had realised that the man was delighting in making the little girl give him a first-hand account of everything that had happened to her, in the minutest detail.

At this moment April was standing at the study desk with the phone held to her ear with both hands, her cheeks hot crimson as she stumbled over the answers to what were, probably, some rather intimate questions. Every few moments the embarrassed girl glanced timidly across the room at Basil, who had perched himself on the edge of a heavily-built little table, across which scores of girls had, on various occasions, had their bottoms strapped or caned for the first time. April too had become familiar with the rather restricted view of the hearth rug a girl got from the little table whilst waiting for one of Basil’s pompous lectures to come to an end before the cane’s sprightly length or the strap’s cool leather measured itself around the chubbiness of her bare bum.

Basil watched her bright, nervous eyes wander halting around the study as she listened to her guardian, and heard her stumble over the word ‘knickers’ as she was coaxed into retelling a part of what Basil had, already reported. Confused by her tutor’s faint smile as she had to say that embarrassing word again, she turned away, her firm young buttocks — naked, because her knickers were draggled at her knees by way of adding to her discomfiture — demurely displaying traces of the several carefully administered punishments she had ‘earned’ that day.

April was, whispering pink-faced into the phone — something she would have been even more embarrassed to say if she thought Basil might hear it too — while Basil wondered idly whether the half dozen strap weals across the backs of her legs, grouped about a hand’s width below the out-swell of her bum-cheeks, might not take rather more than a day to disappear. They had been quite firm strokes — he could still feel the strap’s firmness in his hand as those strokes had met the resilience of her young thighs. But never mind — by the time she was sent home tomorrow evening her bottom too would be sporting plenty more of the, same ridgy weals — he always made sure that a girl’s final punishment would be something to jog her memory whenever she sat down for the next few days. April’s bottom turned suddenly away, the smooth inward curve of her tummy and a neat, dark triangle of hair taking its place. Basil realised that she was trying in her timid way to ask a question of him.

‘Hmm?’

‘Um — h-he wants to know — er — do I have to be s-strapped any more tonight. He told me to ask you —’

‘That depends, April.’ She turned away again, looking bewildered, bottom quivering faintly as she moved.

‘H-he said it depends.’ She stood nervously erect, listening intently, then peeped guardedly over her shoulder. ‘Um — what does it depend on, please?’ She blinked, twice, terribly concerned to catch every nuance of the requested answer — presumably her bottom’s well-being would in its turn depend upon whatever it ‘depended’ on. Basil controlled a twitch in his cheek which threatened to become a grin.

‘On whether I decide to cane you instead.’

Blushing rewardingly April stuttered the information into the ‘phone. She listened for a moment then held the instrument towards Basil ‘He — he wants to talk to you.’

Basil took the phone and April sidled away out of reach; her knickers slithered down to her ankles. She stooped to retrieve them and, daringly, she hoisted them all the way up. Surreptitiously she settled around her hips — not that they covered all that much — but Basil’s warning glance went at once to the knickers then up to her face. Intimidated, April peeled the little knickers back down at once, right down to her knees where they were supposed to be. She straightened up and stood with her hands at her sides, seemingly near to tears, her freshly-flushed cheeks perhaps indicative of her humiliation at having been so easily cajoled into half-undressing herself again, her trembly bottom lip no doubt something to do with wishing she hadn’t been so rash about pulling her knickers up in the first place.

Basil’s eyes loitered where April’s pants had been a moment, then looked up into her face to find her glance cast down and her lips with a childish pout that somehow failed to spoil her prettiness. He nodded vaguely as he listened to her guardian’s voice in his ear. Quietly, as though ashamed for Basil to notice, April began to cry. Big, glistening tears trickled down her cheeks and her tongue peeped out and licked the saltiness from her lips. A sniffle gave her away; Basil looked up to see her brushing guiltily at her cheeks, her eye-lashes shining wet.

At length Basil put down the telephone, having said little yet having gained the distinct impression that a little exploitation of April’s willingness to please, as demonstrated across the classroom desk that afternoon, would be regarded by the girl’s guardian as simply one more ‘punishment’ which he could then make the girl report in detail once he got her home, rather than something to make a fuss about.

April’s undressing took but a moment. She had only to step out of her knickers and unbutton her blouse. Naked but for her flat black shoes and white socks she struggled against her tears, nodding mutely when a certain key was mentioned and her plump little bottom bouncing self-consciously as she was sent away to unlock the cellar door.