Carriage & Posture

First part of two, from Blushes 27

‘Are you wearing knickers, Veronica?’ Mr Mildmore smiled. ‘I’m sure you are. All nice girls do, don’t they. But would you take them off? Please.’

The eyes of the girl who was Veronica Casfield became sharply wider, rounder. Rather nice blue eyes with long lashes. In a pretty, softly-featured face framed in shortish blonde hair. A pretty girl with also a nice figure in blouse and skirt, stockings, sensible shoes with chunky heels. Her coat which she had worn on the train journey down here, and then in Mr Mildmore’s car from the station, lay on a chair by the window of this cosy room. Mr Mildmore had, not surprisingly, asked her, told her, to take her coat off. But now… The pretty face was flushing. No, he couldn’t really have said that.

‘Knickers, Veronica. You are wearing knickers?’

She nodded, numb.

‘Well I want you to take them off. A girl’s bottom, her buttocks, is all important in deportment. The muscles of the bottom are the main motive force in walking and also when you are standing upright. They are what keep you upright and not slouching over in a bad position. I want your knickers off, Veronica, so that I can have a look at your bottom. The gluteus maxima in medical parlance.’

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Deportment; dress sense; grooming. The three keys to self-confidence and success! Mr Austin Mildmore who has studied in Paris and Vienna can give a young lady that essential poise and confidence so necessary to success in the modern world. Short courses at very moderate prices.

Veronica’s mother had seen the advertisement in a magazine and said it was just the thing for Veronica who was 18 and hadn’t gone to the sort of school where those subjects were on the curriculum. She had written off and, well, here Veronica was, this place of Mr Mildmore’s down in the country. Hampshire. Standing in front of him in his nice cosy sitting room. And being told…

‘Slip them off, please, Veronica.’ His voice sharper now, perhaps slightly impatient with her just standing there, numb and dumb. Perhaps those girls in Paris or Vienna, well trained and obedient and maybe used to this, responded immediately. The thought was awful. And did he mean do it here, in front of him?

Yes, Mr Mildmore did mean that. Veronica’s hands went uncertainly to her skirt. Did her mother know she would be told to take her knickers off? But her mother had said, ‘Pay careful attention and do exactly as you’re told, dear.’ That had sounded all right at the time.

Veronica’s hands were doing it, though. Up under her skirt they were at her knickers. Which were quite brief and white. Oh gosh! She was beginning to perspire. Mr Mildmore sitting in front of her, eyes sharp, alert, expectant.

The white knickers appeared below the knee-length skirt. Slid on down for Veronica, red faced, to step awkwardly out of them. Reluctantly putting the little white bundle in Mr Mildmore’s held-out hand. Oh cripes!

The feeling. Under her skirt. And the fact of course that he knew. No knickers.

‘Now lift your skirt, Veronica. You can turn round but lift it, right up to your waist. We need to see the gluteus maxima.’

What was worse, front or turning away? Both seemed equally horrendous when you were a basically shy girl who had never dreamt of anything like this. And with Mr Mildmore a complete stranger whom she had only met half an hour ago, on the quiet little railway platform. Seemingly a pleasant enough man chatting to her on the drive over. She had begun to lose some of the nervousness she had felt in anticipation of this weekend to be spent with a stranger, a strange man. But now… He had her knickers in his hand. And she had to show him her bare bottom.

Somehow lifting the skirt. Beige seamed stockings. With darker rims tight round the fullness of her thighs. ‘Lift it right up, Veronica. Right up.’

Pale bare thighs above. White straps of a suspender belt showing at the flanks. Forcing herself to comply with the explicit instructions. The twin pale moons of her bottom. The two gluteus maximus muscles if, as Mr Mildmore had noted, you wanted medical parlance. To non-medical eyes a beautiful, slightly trembly, just a little plump, girl’s bottom.

Mr Mildmore had risen from his chair. To step briskly forward the two paces that separated him from his weekend guest. He was a firm believer in the rule which says don’t give them time to think about it. His two hands took hold of Veronica’s warm bare bottom. She couldn’t believe it. What nicely brought up, inexperienced girl could? But Mr Mildmore’s hands were clasping her bare buttocks. And he was saying things. Things she couldn’t really hear, or take in, because her mind was only focussed on this unbelievable but nonetheless true fact that Mr Mildmore’s hands had hold of her bare bum. Were squeezing and jiggling the two cheeks. She couldn’t hear what he was saying but then it became evident that he was repeating something. It filtered through!

‘Clench it, Veronica. I said clench your bottom. Let me feel the musculature.’

Doing it. Somehow. Tightening the muscles of her buttocks. Which were in Mr Mildmore’s hands. A cheek in each one. ‘Tighten… Now relax… Tighten again.’

She was shaking. Shivering. Mr Mildmore finally let go. Stepped back a pace.

‘Now I want you bending over. Feet wide apart and bending over to touch the floor. It is a wonderful stretching exercise. But take off your skirt first. We don’t want it getting in the way.’

‘No!’ Veronica said weakly. ‘No. I can’t. I can’t do that.’ She had dropped her skirt down. His hands weren’t there but she could still feel them on her bottom. She couldn’t agree to any more of this. What he had said… when you thought about it, was impossible. Austin Mildmore, though, was used to girls saying no and knew how to deal with it. It was a question of who had the stronger personality and will — and after all if a girl had been sent to him to be taught deportment, etcetera, there was no point in letting her say no, she didn’t want to co-operate. He stepped over to the side of the room and came smartly back. With a cane in his hand.

‘You have been sent here for a purpose, Veronica. To learn something of deportment and grooming and such matters. I don’t imagine your mother would be very impressed to hear that you spent the weekend being silly and saying no to what I require. Do you? So take the skirt off and get into the position I have requested. Or I shall give that bottom a warming up with this cane that you will not enjoy.’

They tended to react all in the same way when presented with this harsh statement of what was what. Wide-eyed and stunned as they took in the reality of the cane. And then submitting. Shocked acceptance. No 18-year old girl wants to be caned and from Austin Mildmore’s no-nonsense tones it would seem clear he was capable of carrying out his threat. Veronica Casfield was no exception to this. Hesitating, then her hands going to her skirt. Sliding it down. The horror of standing there in just blouse and stockings and suspender belt. And that of course was not all…

‘That’s a good girl. Ando now legs apart. Nice and wide. And bend over to touch the floor.’

You could imagine what this position would mean. In terms of what would be seen, on display. It did not need much imagination at all. Her mind cried out that she couldn’t do it… but at the same time there was the awful fact of Mr Mildmore behind her with that cane in his hand. That cane and her bottom quite bare. She had to do it.

‘Wider. Nice and wide. And right down with your head.’

Ah yes. They didn’t like it, of course, this position. Austin Mildmore gazed at what was so unwillingly revealed. ‘Stay down. Hold that.’ For a well brought up girl it was an awful, awful thing. Every detail on display and she knew it. All the inner secret charms opened up by this spread, stretched posture. It was of course a form of submission, showing herself like this, and they needed to be submissive. That was a lesson a girl had to learn. Together with all the deportment and grooming. Submission to the male: a key to success in a young woman’s life.

‘Good. Stand up now, Veronica.’

Her body arching up. The trembling legs coming desperately together. She still of course had no skirt or knickers on.

‘Turn round then. Let’s see you.’

The pretty face scarlet; from her bent-over position but also no doubt for other reasons. The thought of what Mr Mildmore had been gazing at: what Veronica was now shyly covering with one hand.

‘Hands at your sides, Veronica. Stand up straight with hands at the sides. That is how we develop a good posture.’

She reluctantly took her hand away from it: that quite luxuriant bush of brown hair at the top of her thighs. Telling herself that Mr Mildmore seeing it wasn’t half as bad as the view he’d had moments earlier. Forcing herself to stand straight. It wasn’t at all nice but it was nothing like as bad as… Don’t think about that…

‘Come here. A bit closer.’ Mr Mildmore was sitting again now. Veronica went hesitantly forward.

‘Do you ever… mmm… trim it, my dear?’ His hand came out. A whimpering sound from Veronica. ‘Just a light trim now and then?’ Mr Mildmore continued as his fingers lightly held her. There. ‘I don’t mean shaving, of course. But an occasional trim perhaps. It gives a nice neat appearance. And that’s all part of grooming. Isn’t it, my dear?’

Mr Mildmore let go. It was just as well, before her knees gave way and she simply collapsed. His hand. There. Seemingly unaware of the havoc his fingers had wrought, he was getting up. Walking over to a shelf. This time it was a book he had in his hand when he came back.

‘Now the posture, Veronica. Carriage and posture. You’ve got your skirt and knickers off so we can get a good view of everything. Balance the book on your head. Standing still first of all. And then walking with a nice easy, graceful motion.’

Mr Mildmore handed her the book and Veronica numbly placed it on her head. She let go of it — and it slid off, down onto the floor. Perhaps this wasn’t surprising given the way her whole body was shaking. It was all… well, Veronica had simply never expected any of this awful business. She automatically bent down for the book. And…

‘Aaaiiioooww!’

The cane as she bent had cracked smartly in across her ripe bare bottom. A hard, stinging cut.

Aaaooowww!’ she yelled again, both hands clasping the smarting flesh.

Mr Mildmore’s voice calm and urbane: ‘I forgot to mention, Veronica. We will operate a system of little penalties. As an incentive to do well. That wasn’t very good at all, was it? Take your hands away.’

Veronica removed the rubbing hands.

‘Aaaiiieeekkk!’

The cane had come stinging in again. Just as hard as the first time and just about on top of that first awful cut. Veronica’s hands jerking automatically back again to her burning buttocks.

‘Don’t! Stoppit. You can’t…’

Tears in her eyes. Of pain and also shock, disbelief — that he could do such a thing. ‘You can’t,’ she squeaked again, but more quietly. Because, well, she couldn’t really stop him.

‘Of course I can, Veronica. I can do what I like to you whilst you’re here. Within reason, but then I decide what is reasonable. The trouble with young girls nowadays is that you don’t want to take discipline. But whilst you’re here you will. What I should really do is bend you over and give you a good dozen, for impertinence. Twelve or so good hard ones with the cane.’

Mr Mildmore didn’t do that though. What he did instead was take Veronica over his lap. Face down and her bare bottom nicely over his trousered thighs. And then give that pretty bottom, with its now two red stripes from the cane, a good hard spanking. His hand repeatedly splatting down on the soft cheeks, on the tender backs of her thighs above, the stocking tops. It was really quite dreadful. Although in terms of pain alone perhaps 12 strokes of the cane would have been worse.

With that Austin Mildmore was ready to start his young guest’s weekend proper. She had been given the shock introduction that he always liked to give a girl at the very beginning. So that she knew who was in charge and realised that her stay was going to be very uncomfortable if she didn’t co-operate in every way. Veronica was brushing more tears from her wet, flushed face when she was finally pushed upright.

‘All right?’ enquired Mr Mildmore. ‘Enjoy that, did you?’

What could a girl say? Mr Mildmore was getting to his feet.

‘Now we’ll have a little break. I think you’ve got the idea. Or I hope you have. Work hard and do just as you are told. That way you’ll get the full benefit. All right, my dear?’

Mr Mildmore put an arm round her waist. ‘Now we’ll have our little break, as I say. A little stroll outside in the garden.’

His hands had somehow slipped down from her waist. It was jiggling a cheek of Veronica’s bottom. But clearly it wasn’t worth complaining, or trying to inch away.

Outside Veronica tried to show interest in the garden but it wasn’t easy. She was still virtually nude below the waist. No skirt, no knickers. Mr Mildmore had said no, she couldn’t put them back on. He was still watching her carriage, the way she walked. The action of the gluteus maxima.

Later, after their stroll, he had her back indoors again, book-balancing. Up and down a set of library steps, his cane swishing in at her bottom at each and every excuse, until he declared that he’d had enough of her ‘lack of enthusiasm’. He put her bottom-up across the steps and gave her the ‘twelve good hard ones with the cane’ which, as he’d said, he should have given her to start off with.

To be continued in Posture & Discipline…