The Club — Part 2

Story from Blushes 8, a continuation of The Club — Part 1.

Dennis Romsey regarded his young ward Charlotte with affection. Now that Alec, Chairman of the Club had departed, he somehow felt he could talk more freely. Silly that, really, because Alec had always been open and honest with him.

‘So you had to go before the Committee, did you my dear?’

‘Y-Yes, Uncle…’ replied the girl… and blushed furiously. She always called Dennis ‘Uncle’ though there was no blood relationship between them. He was simply Charlotte’s legal guardian until she was eighteen.

‘And… er… how did you get on?’ He smiled encouragingly and his eyes roved lustfully over his ward. That ripe young figure was literally bursting out of that Girl Guide’s uniform he had made her wear. The Members of the Committee would have appreciated that, he reflected with satisfaction. Perhaps it was the deciding factor in his being accepted in the club. Clever of him to trick her out in this fashion.

‘I… I was frightened and… and… so a-ashamed…’

‘Well, well, Charlotte, I suppose that’s understandable. After all, you are still very young and those gentlemen are rather getting on in years. Like me. Still, that’s over now. And, as you heard the Chairman of the Club say, I have been elected as a member.’

Somewhat to Dennis’s surprise, Charlotte covered her face with his hands and burst into tears. ‘Oh… ohhh… how could you, Uncle?’ she wailed.

‘I do not think it is any business of yours, young lady, as to how or why I want to join any organisation,’ said Dennis sternly. ‘Frankly, Charlotte, I am fast coming to the conclusion I have been far too lenient with you in the past. That is going to change.’

‘Ohh… oohh… Uncle…’

‘I have already had some discussion on the subject with the Committee. Now that I am a member, I shall have more. Doubtless I shall get some good advice. Dry your tears and stop snivelling.’ Dennis pulled out a handkerchief and threw it across. Charlotte dabbed at her reddened eyes.

‘You… mmmfff… don’t know what… mmmmfff… what they made me do,’ she sobbed.

Dennis Romsey seated himself in an armchair and lit a small cigar. ‘Perhaps you had better tell me,’ he said.

‘I… I… mmmfff… don’t w-want to,’ replied the girl.

‘What you want is neither here nor there,’ snapped Dennis. ‘You will tell me.’ He was most intrigued to know what his ‘Candidacy Contribution’ had gone through. One day he might be a member of that Committee!

Charlotte bit her lips furiously before answering. ‘They… they made me take my clothes off…’

‘Really?’ Dennis was faintly surprised that the Committee had gone so far at such an early stage. ‘All of them?’

‘Y-Yes,’ nodded Charlotte. ‘But that’s not all…’

‘Well?’

‘They p-put me over a t-table and… and… oohh… they st-strapped me…’

Dennis was even more surprised. And excited. The Committee certainly didn’t do things by halves! ‘I expect you deserved it,’ he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

‘I didn’t… I didn’t… it was horrid!’ cried Charlotte. She felt she couldn’t bring herself to recount what had happened after that.

‘I think you’d better show me,’ said Dennis, drawing heavily on his cigar.

‘Show you? Show you what?’

‘Your bottom, of course, young lady.’ Dennis felt his pulses throbbing. ‘After all, if they’ve harmed you, I shall take it up with the Committee. Even further maybe.’

Charlotte hesitated, blushing furiously again. How awful it was! First those horrid men… and now her Uncle. Still, it might be worth it; he might take some action. She turned and, for the second time that day, removed those tight-fitting shorts. No knickers beneath. Down her tapering thighs, they went… to reveal two delightful gibbous-moons of flesh covered in a mass of pink-red swathes.

Dennis Romsey’s eyes feasted; his pulses pounded more furiously. They had indeed given the girl quite a good hiding, but nothing too serious. All traces would have gone in a few days. Stubbing out his cigar, he stood up, walked across to his ward, and lightly ran his hand over both buttock cheeks. They felt deliciously soft and warm.

‘Oh don’t… don’t!’ gasped Charlotte, flinching and twisting away.

At once, Dennis delivered two stinging slaps on the tender flesh, making the girl yelp loudly. ‘Don’t tell me what and what not to do, Miss!’ he shouted. ‘You’re far too cheeky and it is obvious to me that you should have had this sort of treatment long ago.’

Charlotte’s hands were clasped to her bottom, her head hung and she continued to sob. ‘Are you… g-going to… speak to… t-them?’

‘I certainly am,’ replied Dennis jovially. ‘I am going to send them my approval.’

Charlotte turned, eyes flashing. Dennis saw the downy, blonde triangle. ‘Ohh you couldn’t… oohh… you b-beast… you beast!’

‘That is quite enough of that,’ said Dennis firmly. He gripped the girl by one arm and pulled her towards the armchair. ‘Such language from a girl to her guardian!’ In moments Dennis was re-seated on the chair but now with Charlotte — kicking and shrieking — pinned across his lap. He felt the voluptuous softness of her… saw the quivering-pink blancmanges that made up her bottom. ‘They were obviously too lenient. As I have been. A matter that will be remedied.’

‘Stooopppp! Ohhh stoooppppp! I’m so tender already…’

‘Good!’ Dennis was grinning lustfully. In swift succession, he slapped left and right cheeks. Then he laid an even harder slap across the centre of both. Charlotte yelled loudly and kicked and wriggled even more frantically. Much to Dennis’s pleasure. Taking a firmer grip on his victim, he began to smack the luscious young bottom, helpless before him, just as hard as he could. Left, right and centre!

Left, right and centre!

Moreover, he went on doing so until the palm of his hand was burning hot.

----//----

‘Dennis Romsey?’ Dennis recognised Eric’s voice at once.

‘Yes. Nice to hear from you, Eric. Thanks for accepting me as a member.’

‘Think nothing of it, old boy. You could scarcely fail with your contribution, you know!’

‘I see you gave her a good strapping.’

‘Ah, so you took a look, did you?’

‘I did indeed.’ Dennis was finding it increasingly easy to talk about such matters without any embarrassment. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘A member has been enquiring if Charlotte would be free next weekend. We’d have her picked up on Friday night about six. Back on Sunday afternoon.’

Dennis felt a slight tingle of his nerves. It was beginning. ‘Oh yes, I’m sure she will be free,’ he replied. ‘In fact, I’ll make sure she is!’ He paused and was about to ask a question when Eric answered it for him.

‘Thanks, old man. Of course, you’ll be sent a replacement. That’s one of the Club’s Rules.’

‘Ah… I see…’ Dennis felt his throat tightening up a little. There were many questions he wanted to ask and again Eric answered before he could put them.

‘Her name’s Abigail, she’s seventeen-and-a-half and has been on our books longer than most. So she’s quite experienced. Still needs a firm hand though, if you follow me.’

‘I do, Eric, I do!’

‘Have you got a cane, by the way?’

Again Dennis felt that tingle but more strongly. ‘Er… no… not actually… not yet…’ Foolish of him not to have got himself properly organised.

‘I should get one before the weekend,’ said Eric with a laugh. ‘If you have any difficulty, I’ll get Abigail to bring one with her.’

‘That… that might be better,’ said Dennis quickly. He had just realised he did not quite know how to go about acquiring such a thing in this day and age.

‘Right then,’ said Eric. ‘She’ll be along early Friday evening. ‘Bye for now, old boy.’

‘Goodbye,’ said Dennis. His hand was trembling slightly as he put down the receiver.

----//----

Dennis paced the room nervously. Night was falling fast and Mrs Dodds, his Housekeeper, had already been in and pulled the long velvet curtains. She would be gone any moment now, he thought. How kind of him to give her the weekend off! Hopefully, she would be having quite a few of those in future. Time for a good stiff Scotch, Dennis told himself. Since it was six o’clock on a Friday night, he deserved one. Needed one, too!

As he drank it at unusual speed, he distantly heard the front door close. Alone at last, he thought with an inner smile. For the moment, anyway. Dennis poured himself another Scotch and, seating himself on a couch, drank this one more slowly. His nervousness was fast ebbing away to be replaced by excited anticipation.

The front doorbell rang and the sound seemed to tingle through his nerves. He went along a thickly-carpeted hallway and opened the heavy oak door, hearing a car driving off as he did so. There, in the light of a mock stagecoach lantern, stood a quite enchanting sight.

‘I’m Abigail,’ said this vision with lustrous, doe-like brown eyes. She carried, Dennis noticed, a long canvas case which probably normally contained hockey sticks and the like. But now?

‘Come in, Abigail,’ he said, inclining his head… and still not quite believing it was happening.

The girl, half-smiled, stepped in and at once removed her round school hat and a dark green raincoat. Dennis saw that she had deep brown hair plaited in a single pigtail. He also saw that Abigail had retained her school uniform. Perhaps that is de rigueur on these occasions, he thought. The uniform consisted of a white blouse, a skirt the same colour as her raincoat, calf-length white socks and black slip-on shoes with buckles. There seemed to be a lot of white limb-flesh beneath a remarkably short, pleated skirt and the tops of those white socks.

She turned to him, pale, unsmiling, yet not lacking in self-assurance, it seemed. ‘Which way, sir?’ she enquired decorously.

Dennis nodded towards the half open door of the sitting room. ‘Through there,’ he said. ‘Better bring your bag…’

‘Ah yes.’ Abigail bent, with an elegant sideways movement of her knees, and picked it up. Then, hesitant yet determined, she moved towards the door.

Once in the sitting room, Dennis had a far better view of his replacement… and was well pleased. This Abigail looked rather older than her seventeen-and-a-half years, with breasts high, firm and rounded thrusting through her blouse, dark nipples being clearly visible. Surely, she must be wearing a bra, Dennis told himself. Perhaps a half-cup one. He’d find out soon enough.

‘Sit down,’ he invited, indicating a wooden, straight-backed chair. He himself took the sofa. Abigail’s skirt rose high, one thigh crossed slowly over another, giving Dennis a quick flash of triangular pale green nylon.

‘I understand I am to stay her until Sunday afternoon.’

‘That is correct. Normal procedure, I believe?’

‘Yes,’ nodded Abigail. She bit her lower lip.

‘In there?’ He pointed at her canvas case.

‘My night things, sir. Toiletries. Things like that.’

‘Anything else?’

Abigail swallowed hard. ‘Er… yes, sir. A strap… and a cane.’

‘Ahh…. yes… I think you ought to get those out.’ Dennis’s anticipatory excitement was mounting. ‘Most gentlemen have their own,’ said Abigail, unzipping the canvas bag.

‘I am a new member of the Club,’ announced Dennis and immediately regretted giving any explanation. On the table beside her, Abigail placed a strap of pale brown leather, some eighteen inches long and an inch and a half wide. It was no thicker than an average wooden ruler. Alongside it, she put down a smooth, yellow, hook-handled cane, typical of the ones used in schools.

There was a silence. To be honest, Dennis did not quite know how to proceed. What excuse could he find for using those implements? The girl, newly arrived, had committed no fault. Perhaps he would have to bide his time.

‘Would you like to go and tidy up, Abigail?’ he asked.

‘Thank you, sir,’ replied the girl politely. She rose from her chair and left the room with demure obedience. Dennis felt prickles of sweat under his armpits.

Abigail was back within five minutes. Now she looked paler and more tense. She came and stood directly before Dennis’s chair.

‘I… I’m sorry, sir,’ she said, ‘while I was in your bathroom, I broke a small vase carrying potpourri. It was most careless of me.’

Dennis felt his pulses beginning to pound again. Had it been an accident or was this girl deliberately setting herself up? Since he was new to all this it was difficult to be certain. On the other hand, Eric had told him that Abigail had considerable experience. Surely he should be leading and she following; yet it seemed to be the other way round. Did it really matter though?

‘Yes, that was very careless Abigail,’ said Dennis slowly. The tension was increasing within him. ‘That was a gift from my dear, late mother. Much treasured.’

‘Oh I’m really sorry,’ said Abigail. She looked it, too.

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to be punished for such an error.’

‘Yes… yes… I deserve to be,’ said Abigail. Incredible, said Dennis to himself. Why was she agreeing not protesting?

‘I am going to have to cane you…’

A little gasp… a nervous twitch of the lips. ‘Y-yes, sir… if you must.’

‘I am afraid I must,’ said Dennis. He got up from his chair and took hold of the hook-handled cane. How supple it was, how easily it swung! What a thrill it gave him simply to hold it in his hand. ‘You will kneel and bend over the sofa arm, Abigail,’ he heard himself saying.

‘Yes, sir… oh p-please, don’t be too severe on me. It really was an accident.’

‘You will then pull up your skirt and take down your knickers.’

‘Yes, sir… if you say so, sir…’

‘I do say so,’ intoned Dennis, blessing the day he had first been put in touch with the Club. He watched almost ecstatically as this shapely young creature knelt at one end of the couch and pulled up her skirt high. A most curvaceous bottom was revealed, the skin exceedingly white, most minimally covered by a pair of pale green nylon briefs. Oh God, what beauty, thought Dennis! Superb! Whilst Charlotte was plump with puppy-fat, this girl had womanly development, even at so young an age. How quite, quite charming!

‘Take those knickers down…’ Naturally, there was no need for Abigail to do so. Such a flimsy item offered no protection. Yet, they must come down. The girl must be fully exposed. Fully shamed. Was it not all part of her punishment? Abigail pushed down the briefs to her knees. Nakedly her bottom curved, thrust up and out by the end of the couch. A perfect posture for a caning!

‘P-please, sir… not too hard,’ came a whimper. Abigail’s face was buried in a cushion, her clenched hands gripped the edges of it.

‘I am giving you half a dozen, Abigail,’ announced Dennis.

‘Oh sir… no… ooo… please… please…’

‘You deserve nothing less for such carelessness,’ said Dennis firmly. ‘Beyond that, I have been told you are experienced. If you were new to discipline, it might be different.’

‘Oh… oh… sir…’

Dennis tapped the soft white flesh with the tip of the cane. It quivered, then it twitched with sudden dread. Oh what a joy to see! Suddenly he realised he did not know quite how hard he should lay on the cane. Very hard? Hard? Medium? Mildly? His knowledge of such degrees of severity was minimal.

Ultimately, he decided on something between hard and medium. To start with, anyway.

Carefully he measured Abigail’s delicious bottom, sawing the cane to and fro. Then, suddenly, he raised it high and brought it whistling down. Sssswwwiii….. iiipppptttt!

There was a muffled half-gasp, half-cry from the velvet cushion and Abigail’s bottom performed a series of quick, juddering gyrations. Yet she remained in her kneeling posture over the couch’s end, hands gripping the cushion more tightly, knuckles white. Dennis contemplated the thin, pink-red, twin-tracked weal he had just raised with infinite satisfaction. It ran across, virtually halfway down Abigail’s bottom, encircling most of the left cheek and all of the right, leaping the cleft between that lush curvaceousness. Yes, he thought, this girl must be experienced. Most youngsters would have leapt up after a cut like that.

Unhurriedly, Dennis sawed the cane across Abigail’s soft white buttocks… and was delighted to see them give a convulsive twitch of dread. He was sawing about an inch above where he had laid on the first stroke. Slowly Dennis withdrew the cane, raised it high… Ssswwwiii… iiippppptttt!

The cane zipped down and fell just about exactly where Dennis had aimed it. That was most gratifying. So were the even more urgent gyrations of Abigail’s bottom, during which her long thighs splayed a little to reveal some delightful girlish secrets even more openly.

‘Ooww…. aaaggghh…. oh p-please not so hard, sir!’

Was he laying it on too hard, wondered Dennis? Being himself inexperienced in such matters, he had no means of knowing. It was very possible, however, that the girl was pleading in this fashion in an attempt to induce him to go easier on her.

‘I think, Abigail,’ he said, finding his voice rather thick, ‘you had better take your knickers right off. Otherwise you’ll very likely rip them.’

He paused, flexing the supple cane with relish. ‘You deserve to be caned hard for such carelessness. And you’re going to be.’ Dennis watched as Abigail first knelt erect, then stood to let her knickers slip down over her knees and down her calves. She stopped to remove them from around her ankles and, once more, Dennis was favoured with a delightful view of most personal possessions.

Were Club members permitted? The thought flashed through his mind. He should have asked Eric; even though the man might have thought him a fool for being so naive. There was plenty of time. A whole weekend lay ahead. More than likely, he thought, the girl herself would give him some lead.

Once more Abigail knelt and draped herself over the sofa-end.

How provocatively her bottom seemed to thrust up at him! Heart pounding, Dennis measured it once more, now aiming an inch below the first weal. This time, he told himself, I’ll give it to her just as hard as I can. Then she’ll realise I take no notice of her pleas.

Ssssswwweee…. iiiiipppptttt! Making an extra effort, Dennis was not quite so accurate. The cane caught only less than half of Abigail’s left buttock cheek, all of the right, with the tip zipping round and biting into her soft flank. ‘Yeeeooowwww!’ This time Abigail’s head jerked up off the cushion and her cry of pain was loud and genuine. Her bottom squirmed left and right, left and right, juddering violently. Dennis heard the blood singing in his ears. That really got to her, he thought. Still, I mustn’t overdo it. ‘P-please, sir… p-plee… eeease not so h-hard…’ came the muffled beseeching as Abigail’s head went back into the cushion.

Dennis once more sawed to and fro. An inch lower, since it was now his intention to work down the buttocks to the overhang. That was where the last stroke was planned to fall.

‘Do you think you’ll be more careful in future, Abigail?’

‘Yes, sir… oh yes… sir!’

‘Good…’ Up went the cane again… and down it whistled once more. Hard, but not quite so hard as the previous time.

Sswwwwiiiii….. iiiipppppttttt! Abigail not only squirmed and jerked as her head thumped up and down on its cushion, her long limbs kicked out, thighs splaying once more. Delightful! Quite delightful! Dennis looked at the four encircling weals, so bright against such white skin. Two more to be raised yet. To and fro… to and fro… sawed the cane. Twitch and quiver… twitch and quiver… went the flesh.

Sssswwwwwiiii….. iiiipppppttttt! Number five buried itself momentarily deep into the soft flesh, then the cane sprang away again. Oh how it made her yelp! Oh how it made her squirm! Round and round, back and forth, belly thumping on the curve of the couch arm.

One more to go. Lustfully Dennis sawed the cane across the very tops of Abigail’s thighs, just where they joined the fulsomeness of her young bottom.

‘No…. oooo…. please…’ Abigail’s head was up and twisted round. He saw tears shimmering in those doe-like eyes; observed the half-open mouth, lips wet and quivering. He had indeed lighted upon a most sensitive area, it seemed; even while Abigail’s head was still turned he raised the cane swiftly and brought it whistling down precisely in the target area. Thus he was able to glimpse the shock and pain on those pretty features before, with a shriek, Abigail jumped erect and, hands clasping urgently to the lower part of her bottom, performed a pavane of pain around the couch. Dennis’s hand shook slightly as he replaced the cane on a table nearby. His pulses were pounding and his throat was dry. That, he told himself emphatically, was just about the most exciting experience of my life!

‘Go and wash those tears away, Abigail,’ said Dennis blandly. ‘And, this time, while you’re in the bathroom, I should be rather more, careful.’

‘Y-yes …mmmfff.. yes, sir…’

Dennis watched the girl move from the room in that way of hers, hands still pressed to her bottom. I guess, he thought, smiling faintly, that cold flannel will not only be pressed to reddened eyes but to far warmer areas as well!

When she came back, Abigail looked brighter, though still pale. In her hand, she carried her knickers, fiddling with them with nervous fingers. He wondered if she was perhaps waiting for permission to put them back on, how charming, such consideration!

Wanting to think about this first encounter with one of Eric’s girls — that was how he thought of Abigail, since he had not yet met any other Club members — Dennis said she could take her case upstairs and unpack.

‘Yes sir,’ she said, and fiddled with her knickers and looked uncertainly at him until he had to ask her what was bothering her.

‘Um — I was just wondering which room, sir. The little room at the back or the big one at the front.’

The room at the front had a double bed; Dennis said she could put her things into the back room for the time being. Abigail nodded and went upstairs lugging her case and Dennis turned to the telephone trying to remember Eric’s number.

This he would have to check up on — suddenly he realised that Charlotte would have arrived at her weekend destination by now, and might very well be in much the same situation as was his own visitor — yes, he’d better check with Eric right away —

Charlotte is seen again in Next Weekend. The old rascals of the Club also re-appeared in Gentlemen at Pleasure in Blushes 21 and sit in the background of a number of other stories from early Blushes.