Girls’ Training Scheme - Part 1

From Blushes 19

‘Very nice,’ approved Uncle Albert. ‘Very nice indeed. A real good-looker and also a nifty shape on her. Only thing is, of course…’

‘Only thing is what?’ Mrs Linda Slater, Kevin’s mother, wanted to know. She herself very much approved of her son’s young lady and her brother-in-law seemed to be implying some criticism. Julie of course was always careful to be on her very best behaviour where Kevin’s mother was concerned. ‘Are you finding fault, Albert?’

‘No, not really. Nothing actually wrong at all and a very lovely girl, I’m sure. It’s just that these very attractive ones can get a bit flighty. And there’s nothing worse than a flighty young wife.’

Julie Atkins, the young lady in question, was naturally not present as this interesting conversation developed. She had been there, at the Slater family home, somewhat earlier that day, partaking of a splendid high tea and in the process meeting a number of the Slater Clan whom she had not previously met. Including Albert Musgrove, Kevin’s Uncle Albert. Everyone had been most impressed with Kevin’s new lady friend — with this possible exception it now seemed of Uncle Albert.

‘Julie’s certainly not flighty,’ stated Kevin, now back in the family parlour having escorted his loved one home. His mother added, ‘I should think not.’

‘I’m not saying she is now. I’m talking about the future, when you get spliced. A young woman can get very uppity and independent then, especially if she’s not been disciplined.’

‘Disciplined?’ Kevin questioned disbelievingly.

‘Yes, discipline, my lad. Like they used to have years ago. But they’ve got these places now that you can send them to. The Girls’ Training Scheme it’s called. Government and all above board, quite a new thing. You should look into it, Kev.’

Kevin looked sceptical. Later he asked his mother if she knew anything about it. Mrs Slater said she didn’t — well, she might have heard something vaguely. Mind you, a certain amount of discipline was no bad thing, girls could go off the rails; she could think of one or two…

It seemed that Uncle Albert was right; he brought round some official literature the next evening. Apparently the Government had set up a pilot scheme in 1988 in response to public opinion surveys which showed widespread unease at the general level of indiscipline in the nation’s youth. There was an expanded Job Training Scheme aimed primarily at young males and this Girls Training Scheme for their female counterparts. So far the GTS was of limited size and partly experimental, operating in a number of small privately-run establishments supported by Government funding.

‘I would look into it, Kevin lad. Discipline is the name of the game, especially with a lovely girl like that. Well, you wouldn’t want to come home unexpectedly and find her humping the milkman, would you? That’s the sort of thing a lack of discipline in a young wife can lead to.’

Kevin’s mother had gone out to the kitchen to make some tea, otherwise Albert Musgrove would not have permitted himself this indelicate remark. Kevin went pink.

‘She wouldn’t agree to it.’

‘There you go you see. We’re talking about discipline, Kev. Not asking if she’d like it.’

As it happened of course Julie’s parents were shortly going abroad for a year and there had been some suggestion that she might come and stay with Kevin’s family, so the latter could have some say in the matter. ‘Let me have a word if you don’t want to,’ Albert said. ‘I don’t see why she should object, she seems a sensible girl. I mean it’d be a nice break, a sort of holiday. Apart from the actual discipline training, of course.’

In a low aside while Mrs Slater was over the other side of the room he added. ‘Remember, with a high-spirited girl it might not be only the milkman. You could find she was giving it away to all the blokes at work as well.’

Kevin felt his pulse quicken. The thought was sickening and frightening. He had certainly heard tales of girls embarking on a little promiscuity once they’d achieved the security of marriage. He was sure Julie wouldn’t be like that but she was terribly attractive. A cutely pretty face and her stunning figure, big tits and a quite prominent sexy bottom that seemed to sway more than most girls’ bottoms when she walked. No doubt men would be after her: a lot of men seemed to assume all redheads were hot and sexy.

Now the idea had been put in his head Kevin knew he wouldn’t he happy until he had done something. And like Uncle Albert said a course of this training would greatly strengthen a girl’s resolve against temptation.

----//----

Albert Musgrove took Julie out for a drink — not at all an onerous task for a man with an eye for pretty girls. He had indeed taken a real fancy to Julie but at the same time he believed what he said. Girls of that age did need a firm hand, like they used to get in the old days. That was why this new scheme was such a marvellous idea. And as it happened, with it being a matter so close to his heart, Albert knew someone who ran one of these places.

‘A nice little place by the seaside. Eastbourne in fact.’

The general gist of the matter had been broached over a gin-and-tonic. Naturally it came as something of a shock to the pretty girl. ‘What sort of training?’ She fluttered her long eyelashes. Kevin’s Uncle Albert was not unattractive for an older man, and he was Kevin’s uncle.

Albert was somewhat vague as to details; but it was a recent, modern development. For modern girls. All the family agreed it would be just the thing. And it was only a six-week course, not a long time at all and then she’d be back with Kevin.

Julie was a bit doubtful, especially when told that Kevin would not be allowed to visit during the six weeks. It seemed that Uncle Albert would, though; for one thing he knew this Mr Milbank who ran it and also it was only the nearest and dearest, i.e. Kevin, who could not visit on account of it might cause emotional upset and interfere with the training.

‘So you certainly won’t be forgotten down there,’ smiled Albert. In their quiet corner of the cosy pub his eyes were going over his companion in admiration and indeed excitement. Firm and vibrant young flesh was everywhere in evidence, filling the tight blouse, the trim skirt. Flesh crying out for a taste of discipline. How marvellous it would be, right there and then, to take her over his lap. To yank up that skirt and skim down the knickers (presumably there were knickers). And then… Albert Musgrove shifted his position, his trousers suddenly tight. But if he couldn’t do it now, and clearly he couldn’t, there was a very good chance that at Stanley Milbank’s…

Julie, after a second gin-and-tonic, was persuaded. Well, if Kevin’s family all thought it was the thing. Afterwards, before taking her home, Uncle Albert parked the car because there was a nice sunset. Watching the sunset and talking, Albert’s hand somehow came to rest on those splendid nyloned knees. Somehow, as they sat and talked, the hand slid up. If it had been anyone else Julie would have stopped it of course but it was Kev’s uncle, one of the family. Uncle Albert was really nice, really friendly, and if she had to be at this place for six weeks it was nice to know he was going to visit.

Uncle Albert said don’t worry, he’d probably come down and see her after just a few days. Somehow, before they drove off, Uncle Albert’s hand had got right up under her skirt. Up to the fasteners of her suspenders and then even further than that. His fingers stroking the sensitive flesh of her thighs sent little shivers through her. What was this place going to be like? And the training?

----//----

She stood straight and still with her hands on her head. Mr Milbank had said ‘Don’t move a muscle.’ It wasn’t easy especially when you had been standing here for 15 minutes or more. Something was bound to move eventually. And then… Oh Christ, the thought of the cane made her think she wanted to pee and that thought made her want to squeeze her knees together and that would be moving, and then… He was sitting there behind her, writing, but he would see, even the smallest squeeze of her knees. Oh Christ!

Julie was in her pink silk blouse and short cream skirt. White stockings and white high-heeled courts and also white suspender belt and knickers. You could see the suspenders and also the knickers because her skirt was tucked up, front and back, into the waistband. She was in an after-lunch physical training session. Body control. She had done two of these this morning and in neither of those had she gone beyond 10 minutes before Mr Milbank decided he could detect movement. ‘Our initial target we will set at 20 minutes,’ he said. The clock on the wall now showed 17 minutes 10 seconds from the time she had started, so just possibly this time… if her aching arms didn’t give out and the intensifying feeling of needing to pee didn’t become too much…

It was her first day. That meant six times seven was 42 minus one… 41 days to go. Oh Jesus Christ.

She had arrived at the station yesterday evening, with Mr Milbank there as arranged with a red rose in his button-hole for identification. A pleasant, kindly-looking man, a bit older than Uncle Albert. Well, he had looked pleasant and kindly. His house also, this place, just an ordinary looking house not far from the sea front. Ordinary except it had that small brass plate: Girls’ Training Scheme. Government approved premises. The bloody GTS, the diabolical GTS.

Mr Milbank and the GTS had not shown themselves in their true colours at first. Yesterday evening had been OK. Mr Milbank charming and obliging. He had said the training wouldn’t start until today. He had taken her out to a restaurant and then a nice stroll along the front. No inkling of what was to come today. Well, except just before they came back, when they had stopped and were leaning on the railings looking out to sea. All of a sudden Mr Milbank’s hand was at Julie’s bottom.

‘Not had it dealt with at all yet, my dear?’

Having had two glasses of wine it took a little while for Julie’s mind to register both the hand and his words. And really the significance of the words hadn’t become apparent until this morning. It was a warm evening and she had just her dress on. Just that thin layer and of course the equally thin one of her knickers. Mr Milbank’s large hand had squeezed one lightly-covered cheek.

‘One could almost say you were built with it in mind, Julie.’

That also had been a bit cryptic — at the time at least. She had shivered because a man’s hand there does make you shiver. She would have squirmed away except that she was stuck with Mr Milbank for six weeks. Had she known, or even suspected, what it was all about Julie certainly would not have slept a wink whereas in fact she slept quite soundly. It was only this morning, after breakfast…

The clock had got to eighteen and a half minutes. Ninety seconds and she would be safe. Surely she could manage that. Except that her arms were now killing her and so was the quite desperate need to go to the loo. What if she… Jesus! She could feel herself sweating but that wasn’t moving. She was still holding it, holding the position and holding that… She gave a little whimpering sound. Oh please God, just… then she heard his chair scrape…

Oh Christ! Heavy footsteps.

The big hand had splatted sharply in across the seat of her tight knickers. ‘Moving, Julie.’

The big hand had taken hold of her ear, pinching, twisting her head, then leading her into the room. Over to his desk. She hadn’t moved, she knew she hadn’t. And it was only a few seconds to 20 minutes. Mr Milbank hadn’t intended for her to get to the target. She wanted to say something. Very forcibly. But that she guessed would only make her plight worse.

‘Take your knickers down.’

Of course. What else. Shivering, squirming her legs, she told Mr Milbank what she needed to do. ‘You can wait,’ he said. ‘Hold it. This is all about self-control and discipline. Get ‘em down and get over the desk.’

Making little whimpering sounds she reached for her knickers. It hadn’t taken long to learn that Mr Milbank didn’t like argument, or anything other than immediate compliance. She slid them down, beyond her stocking tops. ‘Arms behind your back,’ he barked. She did that too.

He had the cane in his hand now and it had sliced in, squarely across the plump pink buttocks. ‘Learn to move faster,’ he said. ‘Now get down.’

Gasping she bent quickly forward, hands and forearms on the desk. The sting of the cane was killing and of course it was only the first of… how many? How could Uncle Albert and the rest of them have sent her to this dreadful place and this dreadful Mr Milbank? Did Kevin know what was happening? That Mr Milbank was caning the daylights out of her bare bottom at every opportunity. And when he wasn’t doing that he had her over his lap and was beating the daylights out of her with his hand. Girls bloody Training Scheme…

The cane bit smackingly in, a few centimetres below the nice bright tram-lines of the first line of impact. There were five more, all equally bad, equally mind-wrenching. Six altogether, or rather seven counting that one before she was bent over. Seven mind-bending cuts, sizzling the ripe flesh of her rear like hamburger on a skillet. When it was at last over Julie, gasping for breath, felt sure she would never be able to stand up straight again.

‘Stand up,’ barked Mr Milbank. ‘Straight, no slouching.’

And the thought came that Mr Milbank could start again given half an excuse. Julie found that yes, she could after all stand up straight. Her poor bottom, though, was killing, just killing. And certainly she would never ever be able to sit on it again.

That was no immediate problem, though, as she was not being required to sit. Mr Milbank telling her to put her hands on her head again. That awful face close up to hers, a face made even worse by the very fact that it looked so mild, Friendly even.

‘Getting closer to our target, eh Julie? Nice and close so I think that next time we’ll have to set a bigger one. Shall we say 30 minutes?’

She thought she was going to burst into tears. That was it, he didn’t want her to get to the target, he wanted to cane her every time. It was all impossible. Standing here with her hands on her head, with her knickers still down and her skirt still tucked up to her waist and her pussy on show to this horrible man, and her bottom just killing her still. Impossible: some kind of nightmare.

To think that Kevin and the rest of them had sent her to this place. To be tortured.

In all the dreadful shock of the cane Julie had somehow forgotten that earlier desperate need. It now came shooting back. Squirming her thighs together she blurted out her pressing state to Mr Milbank. He gave an owlish look, eyeing the quivering hips. For a moment she thought he was going to refuse, and then…

But maybe he was afraid of getting it all over his carpet. ‘Come straight back, young lady. No malingering in there. Then I’ll have some little jobs for you.’

In the loo Julie bent over the seat, hands on knees, but not actually sitting. She couldn’t, not with the way her bottom still felt. Like raw meat. She gasped out her relief, then pulled her knickers up over the raw meat. She left her skirt still tucked up. Earlier, in the morning, Mr Milbank had taken exception to her pulling it down without his permission. And when he took exception to something…