A Stuck-up Young Lady & Taken Down a Peg

Story from Uniform Girls 4

Up at the top of the house the heat of a long summer’s day still lingers, though it is past eight o’clock. Lace-edged curtains hang at a small dormer window, which has been opened wide to catch even the slightest of breezes should one happen along, but the curtains are motionless in the still air. There is the distant sound of a lawn mower — the gardener rounding off his day’s work now that the sun has sunk lower and made mowing less tiring — and a smell of newly-cut grass which teases the nostrils in the maid’s room with the pretty curtains. Nostrils, though, are not alone in the matter of being teased in the secluded room up in the roof.

‘Ooo-n…no…no, please —’ Firm young buttocks shiver faintly as their overheated plumpness responds to the cool-finger touch of a shiny cane, stretched in a lazy, tantalising way across a girl’s unwillingly-elevated bottom.

‘Up, girl — come along now — lift it up!’ The cane smacks the reluctant bum-cheeks and elicits a little gasp and a gulped ‘P-please —’ from the panicky girl, who knows only too well why the cane is insisting that she should push her bottom up and out again after its last visitation.

‘Please, sir — !’ she whimpers, but another teasing flick across the tops of her pressed-together thighs coaxes her to ‘lift up’ a hesitant half-inch more. ‘Oooh… p…please —’

‘A little higher, if you please, Michele.’ His voice is tight with the impatience of tone that he affects with the servants and a half-serious stroke cuts across both tentatively-elevated buttocks. ‘You will do as you’re told.’

Michele gasps a miserable ‘N… no… oooo, sir —’ but screws up the last of her self-control and pushes her crimson-kissed bottom just a fraction higher, all she can manage, her back hollowed and her bare toes hurting on the uncarpeted floorboards of her bedroom. ‘Please — no more, sir — oooh, please —!’

The cane hovers, taps the taut buttocks, and lifts up and away. ‘Ooo… oooo.’ The thwack seems to come at the same instant as the swish of the cane’s descent through the air. Michele jerks suddenly, her hips swerving sideways and her feet slipping away from under her. She collapses over the end of her bed and clasps with desperate hands at her flinching buttocks. She blubbers into the bedclothes, great gasping sobs which shake her body and leave her bum-cheeks all a-quiver.

‘Bottom up, Michele,’ intones the master of the house, and wretchedly the girl regains her footing and tries to compose herself, with her hands folding timidly in the middle of her back and her hips lifting half-heartedly to something like the ‘caning position’ she is supposed to be learning.

‘Up, Michele haven’t you learnt yet!’ and the cane flicks bare and trembly buttocks The girl whimpers and pushes her bottom out a bit and the whole thing begins again.

----//----

The moon floats high over the copse at the far end of the kitchen garden, and Michele stands at her window and wonders if she might see a shooting star. If she did, she says to herself, she would make a wish, and what she would wish would be that she could go back to the day before yesterday, to before she went to the station to take the train to come to this house, and she would tell her uncle that there were more things to life when you were sixteen than the promise of an inheritance at the age of twenty one. She watches for her wishing star, and half-consciously she hoists up her nightie and touches with tentative fingertips at the hot tenderness across the crowns of both her buttocks, feeling faintly-raised lines and an all-over warmth which might almost be pleasant were it not so hard come-by.

Tears begin to trickle down her cheeks; she knows that if there is one thing in the world she doesn’t ever want any more of, it’s that awful, dreadful cane across her bottom. The butler’s spanking had been bad enough, but she’d been spanked a hundred times before and she knew that even if it made her cry she could still survive it somehow; but being caned! She doesn’t ever, ever want to be caned again!

Yet he is coming back; the cane is still on the hook behind the door and he has said that she will have to be caned again, tonight and every night, until she learns obedience.

After a while she brushes the tears from her cheeks and takes a deep breath, then she reaches down and pulls her nightie up over her head and drops it onto the floor. Then all she can do is wait.

----//----

The little window has been closed against the night air, though the curtains remain undrawn. The moon has slipped out of sight round the angle of the roof, and the house is quiet.

‘Lift up, Michele.’ His voice is no less impatient. ‘Come on, girl — stick it right up —’

‘S-sorry, sir —’ whispers Michele, and she hollows her back and strains up on her toes across the end of her bed and pushes her bottom ‘right up.’

‘Now keep it there.’

‘Y-yes, sir —’

‘And don’t wriggle it about, child.’

‘No, sir —’ But try as she might, she can’t help but wriggle, because although she’s been taught how to tilt her bottom up and keep it still to be caned, this is nothing at all like being caned. Michele tries really hard, but she can’t help it, and the funny thing is he doesn’t really seem to mind too much. After a bit she’s all wriggles, then all gasping breaths and little pleading squeals, and then she feels faint and funny and very weak at the knees and he lets her slip off the end of his fingers.

‘Good girl,’ he says, and he doesn’t seem so impatient. ‘Now then, let’s see if you can learn something else this evening, eh?’

He leads her round her bed and makes her lie on her back, and all she can see in the dark is the window and his shape against it. He takes her hand and puts something into it.

‘Come on now,’ he says encouragingly, though the impatience is returning. ‘Come on — stick it up, Michele — that’s it — right up now —’