Mr Fortnum’s Special Training

From New Blushes 2.01

The room is a wine cellar. White painted brick walls to which are fixed floor-to-ceiling racks containing wine bottles. In front of one wall is a wooden bench and next to this a girl is standing. A girl of maybe 17 with short blonde hair and a softly pretty face. The pretty face has a look of apparent anxiety: the big blue eyes are as wide as saucers, and the full-lipped softly sensuous mouth is trembling slightly. It is not difficult to imagine that quite easily those big eyes could be welling tears… The trembling lips parting as she begins to cry.

Yes a very pretty, vulnerable-looking face — and also a most attractive shape. There is no doubt about this, with what she is wearing. Or, more accurately, not wearing — she has no skirt on. A pink-and-white check cotton blouse but other than that just her underwear. Is there a bra under that blouse? Possibly not. She has big breasts and we can see the shape of them clearly defined under the tight cotton. Her quite big nipples thrusting out the pink material. And below the blouse — well, not very much. A narrow pink suspender belt to which, halfway up her full thighs, are fastened the taut tops of beige stockings. And… knickers.

Yes, there are knickers. Pink ones. But… they have been pulled down to the stocking tops. So that her ripely rounded bottom is quite bare. Full pale pink cheeks quivering as she nervously shifts her weight from one flat black shoe to the other. It is not only her bottom that is bared by the lowered knickers. No, in front her softly rounded belly is equally nude. And her pussy. Yes, quite bare too. The firm bulge with a rather luxuriant growth of crinkly curls, medium brown. And what can also be seen in the lower part of that mass of curling hair: the vertical split of her actual business.

No doubt this is at least part of the cause of her anxiety. Being dressed like this. Or undressed. Standing here like this in this cellar, with her hands straight at her sides. She wouldn’t be standing like this of her own free will. With her skirt off and her knickers down. Her hands at her sides so that her bare bottom and pussy are fully exposed. No we may presume she has been told to wait here. Told to go down to this cellar and prepare herself like this — or perhaps prepare herself upstairs, in her room say, and then go down. And wait. For what?

She is certainly waiting for something. Or someone. Every now and then there are little sideways glances to the right where through that passageway can be seen steps leading up to the ground floor. Apprehensive little glances. As even white teeth nervously draw in that full lower lip. The soft pale flesh of her thighs above the stockings trembling just a little. Yes she is quite definitely waiting… for some unwelcome development. And it does not require any great gift of the imagination to suppose it will be the arrival of some other person. Descending those stone stairs.

The girl’s name is Paula Bellamy. She is 17. And very shortly there is indeed the sound of someone descending from above. The tread of a heavily built man. His name is Cedric Fortnum. He is aged 60 but still very fit and active. It would appear that he has some action in mind now. Because in his hand he is carrying a long, thin cane.

----//----

Paula’s parents, Andrew and Charlotte Bellamy, obtained Mr Fortnum’s name from one of those discreet little ads in Country Styles, a monthly magazine much read by the upper classes and also by those aspiring to that category. The Bellamys were no more than middle class but naturally they wanted the best for their attractive daughter, and Charlotte especially considered that a stay in a big country house during the summer holiday now that Paula was 17 would be a marvellous experience for her.

Country gentleman of mature years and experience will take nice girls of 16-18 for those broader educational aspects not provided by the average school. It sounded just the thing, and further inquiries confirmed that the advertiser, Mr Cedric Fortnum, was genuine enough. Well naturally one had to be careful where one’s attractive 17-year-old daughter was concerned. Mr Fortnum wanted details too. Well naturally also. Including a recent photograph. Charlotte had one taken specially: Paula looking her demure best in a new outfit.

Apart from the undoubted cachet of a stay with a person such as Mr Fortnum, Charlotte was keen for Paula to go away somewhere this summer as she seemed to have become rather too interested in a local boy, Damien Finford. Not that Charlotte had anything in particular against Damien but a girl shouldn’t be getting too keen on that sort of thing, not at 17.

‘Why? Do you think he’s doing her?’ Andrew queried playfully, to wind Charlotte up. He got the expected shocked response. No, Charlotte didn’t think that! Of course not! But naturally the thought, the possibility, had crossed her mind.

‘And what about this Fortnum chappie?’ Andrew continued, still winding. ‘He’s not going to be… doing it?’

Charlotte this time was speechless.

‘Well, it’s not impossible,’ her husband observed mildly.

Not that Andrew really thought this Mr Fortnum would be doing Paula. No not really. But it wasn’t impossible. He pictured the look on Charlotte’s still very comely face if Paula were to come back with the proverbial bun in the oven. It didn’t bear thinking about! But it wasn’t impossible.

And because it wasn’t impossible Andrew decided on a little something. A little check-up. Well he did have an old college friend who was a practising GP.

His friend Sebastian Milner duly saw Paula, and had her up on the examination couch in his consulting room. Not actually had her of course, but carried out an inspection of her maidenly parts. Her pussy. He subsequently reported that Paula’s pussy was still intacta. Well that was OK then. The young Damien had not been at Paula yet. And nor had anyone else.

Andrew told Paula she needn’t tell her mother about the examination. Paula was quite happy not to tell anyone. It had been awful! That Dr Milner! He had made her strip nude. And then first of all played with her boobs. Stroking and pulling her nipples until they were really swollen and sticking out. He said it was necessary, to get her juices flowing. And then his hand went down between her legs. To Paula’s pussy! He did more of the same sort of thing. And then with her head really buzzing and her legs all rubbery she had to get up on that couch. On her back with her legs spread out! Was all this really necessary? Dr Milner’s fingers! At her clit, and right up inside her! He had got her in a real state. So much so that finally (Paula couldn’t bear to think about it, it was so embarrassing!) she had come!

Oh no she certainly wasn’t going to tell her mother about such a dreadful experience.

And now she was going to have to go to this Mr Fortnum when school finished. For three weeks! She didn’t want to go! Paula had pleaded with her mother, but to no avail. Three weeks away from Damien! Could she beat that? No!

Damien of course did what Dr Milner had done to her. His hot fingers in her pussy. At her clit… It had been awful when that Dr Milner had done it, but Paula loved it with Damien. Damien’s fingers working in her steamy pussy, while her own hand hotly stroked his quivering stiff prick. She could feel like she was going out of her mind.

Damien of course wanted to do the other too. The whole thing. Fuck her. Her mother was worried that he might. Which Paula knew was partly why she was being sent to this Mr Fortnum. And was why her dad had sent her to that awful Dr Milner. To check that she hadn’t done it yet. Paula had assured her mother she hadn’t of course, and she wouldn’t. She did know the risks — of getting pregnant. That would be truly awful alright. It didn’t bear thinking about. So she wasn’t about to start.

But nonetheless she was being sent. To further her education her mother said. A marvellous experience. Three weeks in a classy country house, with servants. It would teach her how to deal with them. Because perhaps, her mother said hopefully, Paula would eventually marry a rich person and they would have servants.

But Paula didn’t want to marry a rich person, not at all. She wanted to marry Damien when she was a bit older. And then… they would be able to do it. All the time! Damien’s stiff prick up inside her. Reaming in and out! Every night! They would probably also do it every day right after he came home from work.

No, Paula really didn’t want to go to this Mr Fortnum’s. Not at all. There were those reasons to do with Damien. And there was also another reason too. The cane! Could you believe the cane! Being caned!

It might seem unbelievable but when Mr Fortnum had visited them there had been this talk of the possible use of a cane! On Paula. On her bottom! Had she ever had that, Mr Fortnum had asked. Her mother had naturally said no. Well it was just a possibility Mr Fortnum said, and he was sure it wouldn’t be necessary. But he thought he would mention it just to get the situation straight. He assumed there was no problem.

Paula’s mother had said, ‘Oh no Mr Fortnum that would be alright.’ Her mother of course was so impressed by the suave Mr Fortnum and his upper class accent she would probably have agreed to anything. Probably if Mr Fortnum said he might like to screw Paula, Charlotte would have said, ‘Oh of course I’d be delighted.’

After he had left Paula turned desperately to her mother. ‘Why didn’t you say no! He c… can’t… do that.’

Charlotte said airily, ‘Oh he won’t do it. I mean there won’t be any reason, will there?’

But Paula could guess he would. Maybe the reason would simply be that he wanted to. That he liked caning girls.

Charlotte said, ‘Don’t be so silly Paula. What a silly thing to say.’

----//----

But Cedric Fortnum did like caning girls. Girls of 17 and 18 were in his opinion greatly in need of it. In particular pretty and shapely ones of course. Which was why he always asked for a photograph in reply to his innocuous sounding ad. And then to make sure always suggested an interview, to meet the prospective young lady before committing himself.

And when he visited he always made a point of mentioning it. The possibility that, though it was naturally most unlikely, he just might need to use a cane. There was never a problem, with middle-class mothers so keen for their darling daughters to be accepted in a classy household. As there had been no problem with this one. This truly delightful Paula.

The mother, Charlotte, was attractive too for a woman of that age: late thirties he would imagine. A still shapely full body. A good bottom still — which he wouldn’t at all mind putting the cane to. Perhaps he might… if he had her visit the darling Paula one weekend? Cedric had certainly done that before. It was a pleasant diversion, a change of pace so to speak, to put the cane occasionally to a more mature pair of nates. Yes he would certainly think about it. But that would only be after he had fully taken his pleasure with the delicious Paula.

He had had a look when he visited. In the Bellamys rather ostentatious lounge after the somewhat flustered Charlotte Bellamy had served him tea. Just the mother and daughter present of course, the father out doing whatever he did for a living. And after the tea, and after mentioning the little matter of the cane — the possibility of it — Cedric had asked if he might see that part of the now slightly blushing young lady. Using the excuse of fitness. Was she an active girl, keeping herself in shape? Yes, could she raise her skirt please?

The blushes had increased, plus a look of some surprise perhaps from the mother. But she had instructed Paula to comply. Turn and raise her skirt. ‘Right up!’ he had directed. ‘Round your waist please.’

Mouth-watering! Two succulent spheres in tight pink knickers! He had felt an almost overwhelming need to get to grips there and then. At least taken her over his knee and slide down the encasing silk. To bare the warm flesh! But he had resisted of course. It would be his great pleasure in just another week. No, he had to stay cool and collected.

‘Hmmmmmm. Possibly just a trifle extra weight there? A little puppy-fat still perhaps Mrs Bellamy? Don’t worry, I’ll have her doing some healthy exercises.’

----//----

Mr Bellamy’s house is out in the country. In a rural part of Kent it stands in spacious leafy grounds, a mellow stone structure which is in part Elizabethan. There is a short tour of the premises for Charlotte when she arrives with Paula, but now she has driven off. Leaving her apprehensive daughter in the tender care of Cedric Fortnum. He does seem such a nice man, a proper gentleman, is Charlotte’s judgement. But as for Paula… she has other thoughts.

For one thing there is the memory of having to raise her skirt like that, to show her knickers, her bottom. And that mention of ‘healthy exercises’ — what could that mean? But most of all of course there is the thought of the cane. She has tried to tell herself her mother was right, it is not possibly going to happen.

Unfortunately for Paula it is Cedric Fortnum’s practice to use the cane right at the outset. The reason usually given, the excuse, when there is no evident justification for it, is that his young visitor needs to be aware of what exactly is involved. So she will know precisely what is involved. The procedures and drill of a caning.

This is of course important, but the real reason is that Cedric can’t wait. Or certainly does not wish to. He can’t wait to sample that sublime rear prospect. The pleasure of baring a young thing’s delicious bottom. And then whipping in the cane. The very thought of it can give Cedric an urgent erection.

He has one now, in his drawing room. He has just bid farewell to Paula’s charming mother (yes he will have to invite her down, possibly next weekend?) and so now he is alone with his sweet charge. And standing in front of his rather grand fireplace he does have an erection. Perhaps the sweet girl can see, for it is noticeably tenting out the front of his trousers? And if she has observed it, and the lovely girl is blushing somewhat, what does she think? Perhaps that her host is going to screw her?

Well she need have no fear on that score. Or no immediate fear. Not that Cedric has never screwed girl visitors. Sometimes, well, one thing can lead to another. But there is no thought of that currently in his head. No his erection relates only to the excitement, the anticipated heady pleasure, of having his cane in his hand.

Down in the wine cellar.

That is where he likes to do most of his caning. And always the first introductory session.

‘Would you like to see my wine cellar, Paula dear? I’m sure you would. And then when we’re down there, there’s a little something we can attend to…’

Paula mumbles that yes she would like to. The brief tour of the house with her mother did not include the wine cellar. She has never seen a wine cellar, but presumably a big house like this would have one. Yes. Actually Paula’s mind is partly on Mr Fortnum’s trouser-front. That bulge. Is it…?

Mr Fortnum comes close, as she stands somewhat uncertainly and trying not to look at it. His hand goes lightly round her waist, to turn her in the direction of the door. In the process he comes even closer, so that his body brushes against Paula. She gives a little yelp. For almost definitely it was that bulge, for a second firmly against the curve of her buttock. And in that second Paula was quite sure it was Mr Fortnum’s erection. With that thought filling her mind she almost misses Mr Fortnum’s words.

‘And when we’re down there we can have a trial run. With the cane.’

----//----

‘Right. Take your skirt off.’ Mr Fortnum says. ‘And then get your knickers down please Paula.’

Just like that! They are down in the cellar having descended those quite steep stairs. There has been a rather peremptory look at the bottles arrayed in their racks around the walls. And then Mr Fortnum has taken off his jacket. As he speaks now he is rolling up his shirt sleeves. And then to dispel any possible doubt as to what he now intends he reaches up to a shelf… and takes down a cane.

A long, thin, whippy-looking cane. An awful looking cane!

Paula lets out an involuntary scared squeak. This can’t be happening! She has been here in Mr Fortnum’s house for less than half an hour. And of course has committed no offence or misdemeanour of any kind.

Cedric gives his cane a testing little swipe through the air. ‘Just an introduction my dear. I always like an early introduction. So we know what’s what. Naturally it implies no criticism of your behaviour. None at all. Now please do as I ask. Take off that pretty skirt. And then slip down what I am sure are equally pretty knickers.

Paula, scarlet-faced now, weakly shakes her head. She can’t believe this. Perhaps it is a bad dream?

Mr Fortnum puts down the cane. He takes a step forward and grabs her arm. He pulls her close, turning her, so that Paula’s back is to him. His hands grip both her arms. She knows this is not a dream. Mr Fortnum’s voice close in at her ear says, ‘Please cooperate, my dear, or there will be criticism, won’t there. And then we’ll have to use the cane much more seriously.’

His hands let go of her arms… and come further round. To shockingly cup Paula’s quite big tits. She gives a shuddering wail. At the same time she can feel the unmistakeable feel of Mr Fortnum’s stiff erection pushing in hard between the cheeks of her bottom.

Mr Fortnum lets go of Paula’s tits and she stumbles away. Her head is spinning. But she had better do what her awful host wants or… what…? A worse caning, he has said that. And what else? It doesn’t bear thinking about. So Paula’s trembling hands go to the waist zip of her skirt. She tries not to think as the skirt slides down.

Underneath Paula is attractively clad. There are her rather brief pale pink knickers, also a demure white suspender belt fastening her white stockings. The stockings and suspender belt, like the rest of Paula’s outfit, are the choice of her mother. She wants her daughter to look demurely attractive. And of course underthings are most important. One never knows when a pretty girl’s underwear may be glimpsed. Or even… more fully observed. As right now. As Paula unhappily displays what she is wearing.

And as she goes on… to slide down the pale pink knickers. This is really awful. Baring her bottom like this. Not to mention her pussy. These thoughts certainly loom large in her head. But the largest thought of all is of course that cane. Mr Fortnum is shortly to use that cane on her bare bottom. It is an almost impossible thought.

Yes. Almost impossible. He makes Paula stand astride the bench now. With her hands on her head. Mr Fortnum reaches to gently raise her blouse. Pulling it right up. Underneath she has on only a white bra. Mr Fortnum wants the bra off. This is all part of the pre-cane ritual, he informs her. As his fingers work quite expertly at the garment. The bra strap… and then pulling the item off. Pushing her blouse back up. To now bare Paula’s large firm tits. His hand briefly fondles. The bare and very sensitive flesh. Paula shudders. Whimpering.

And then she is bending over. To receive the first cane stroke. ‘Keep nice and still, my dear,’ her host advises. Then…

CRACKKK…!!

----//----

Afterwards Paula goes upstairs. Up from the cellar to the main floor and on up to the attractively furnished little room which is to be hers for the duration of her stay. Paula’s bottom feels red-hot. She has had six strokes of the cane in all. Standing bending over the bench. And then kneeling on it. And now, with her bottom still really humming, she is going to have a little rest. An afternoon rest, lying down in her bed, is always on the schedule with Cedric Fortnum’s girl guests.

Yes. It is hard to keep the tears back. Lying in the little bed and looking up at the ceiling. Because this is only the first afternoon, and there are three weeks to be endured. Paula’s bottom is still killing her. Down in that cellar was quite unbelievable. And… three weeks…!!

Shortly there is a little sound. The door. It is Mr Fortnum.

Cedric Fortnum has put on his dressing gown. What has he got on underneath? He sits down on the side of the bed. The fact is that Paula is so deliciously attractive that he is still in a most aroused state. He pats Paula’s form through the bed cover.

Yes. So what is he to do about it? He could bring the cane into action again right away. Have her lying across the side of the bed. Part of him wants to do that. But another big part has another idea. Of getting in with her. In that snug bed. For his own pleasure and also educational reasons of course. Girls of Paula’s age are in need of all kinds of tuition. Caning is only one aspect.

Cedric smiles down at the lovely girl. Calm-seeming, though his pulse is going at a good old rate. What is it to be? Actually he hasn’t got a lot on under that dressing gown. His shirt and… well that’s just about it. For possible educational reasons naturally.