Amanda Disciplined

From Blushes 56. Continued from A Tutor for Amanda.

‘Where was it you went?’ Mr Greeley asks. ‘Oh yes, the South of France. Was it nice? Was it hot?’

They are at Amanda’s parents’ house again. Amanda and Bob are going to live here until they find a flat of their own. But first of all… there is Mr Greeley. Amanda’s two weeks with Arthur Greeley, Disciplinary Tutor. They arrived back from the honeymoon yesterday. Now this morning here is Mr Greeley. To collect Amanda.

At times they have been able to forget it but most of the time the dread prospect has been there, either at the forefront of their minds or lurking just below the surface. These two weeks. ‘It’s only two weeks,’ Bob has said, repeatedly. But the truth is that for him, as for Amanda, the two weeks loom like a lifetime. It is impossible to see beyond them.

‘I can’t go,’ Amanda has wailed, groaned, again and again. But of course it has been all formally arranged, agreed. The forms have been signed. Mr Greeley gets a government payment for every girl he tutors; he could legitimately claim breach of contract if Amanda really did try to back out.

‘I can’t go!’ Amanda has hissed once more now, just moments before Mr Greeley’s arrival. Bob had no answer. Last night they spent in Amanda’s bed, for the first time together. Doing it — fucking in other words — for the first time here. But for Bob as he fucked Amanda there was the mind-bending thought that in the next two weeks… it would be Mr Greeley. Fucking Amanda. Never mind the spanking and the cane, though that was quite bad enough. But… fucking. He fucked Susan Anwing, Mike was quite clear about that. So undoubtedly he intends to fuck Amanda. ‘One of the perks of the job,’ Mike said. Could Mike be having him on? Winding him up? And Mr Greeley didn’t really do it at all? That thought brought a moment’s heady relief — but almost immediately Bob rejected it. Mike wouldn’t joke about it. If he said Greeley had done it, then… he had.

Now is the moment of truth. Mr Greeley has come. To collect Amanda. It has seemed almost like a bad dream but it isn’t — or not only that. It is happening; it is reality. ‘Have you got a bag packed?’ inquiries the amiable Mr Greeley. Outside his car is waiting. Amanda nods, numb. Wanting to cry perhaps. ‘It is only two weeks,’ Bob has kept saying. But two weeks with Mr Greeley is going to be a lifetime.

Bob, watching Amanda get into Mr Greeley’s car and then seeing it pull away, gathering speed, is also not thinking it is ‘only’ two weeks. In a few minutes Amanda will be at Mr Greeley’s house on the other side of town. In his house — where quite possibly he will decide to start right away. Her disciplinary treatment. The cane. And after the cane… possibly a little of something else.

Something strictly for the tutor’s enjoyment (not that no doubt the cane isn’t for his enjoyment as well). Bob is torturing himself but in the circumstances what else is there? What he needs is a stiff drink. Two… or three. He needs to get properly drunk in fact.

----//----

‘Here we are,’ Mr Greeley says. They are at their destination, his largish, pleasant house on the outskirts of town. The same town, only a mile or so from where Bob and Amanda’s parents live, but during her two weeks here Amanda will not be allowed any visitors; not Bob or anyone else. Visitors are seen by Mr Greeley as an unnecessary distraction for a girl in training and Arthur Greeley doesn’t want her to be distracted, he wants her full attention at all times.

Mr Greeley has made this point in the car coming over, stressing that he is going to need her full cooperation. If he finds this is in any way lacking… well, he just may find it necessary to keep her for a while longer. Another week… or two. This, said matter-of-factly, is quite a new concept. The possibility that it could be more than two weeks. Amanda wants to scream out ‘No! No!’ But wisely she doesn’t. That thought fills her mind as Mr Greeley now ushers her into his house. One of his hands is fondling the cheeks of Amanda’s bottom.

Into the lounge. Mr Greeley’s hand is still at that delightful rear. ‘You haven’t told me, Amanda dear. Did you have a lovely time? And now you are a fully-fledged young married woman, eh? How does that feel?’ Mr Greeley’s little laugh. ‘Apart from feeling… mm… a little sore, I mean. Mmm…?’ The hand is continuing its groping.

‘But now to our business, eh? The reason you are here. We must make a start right away. Your training, Amanda. This pretty bottom. We must start its training without delay. We must give it its start with the cane. So will you take your skirt off, please. And your knickers. We must make this bottom really cry out for mercy. That is what pretty girls’ bottoms need. Yes? Come on then.’

Mr Greeley lets go of her. He is going over to the cupboard. To get the cane presumably. Amanda has to do what he has said. Taking her things off. For the cane. Which is bound to be ten times as bad as what she had last time. Her hands go to the fastening of her skirt. Slipping it down and stepping out of it. Underneath there are just her brief knickers. Amanda had tights on a little earlier, waiting for Mr Greeley, but he noticed them. Was it tights or stockings? Stockings would have been acceptable but he didn’t like tights. So would she go and take them off please. So now Amanda’s legs are bare.

Mr Greeley has got a cane. He is back with her now. Patting Amanda’s bottom. ‘Knickers now, my dear. In fact… why don’t we have you completely undressed. Your blouse as well. And…’ His hand sliding up, to Amanda’s boobs, ‘yes, you are wearing a bra. That off as well.’

Amanda hesitates, her head getting hold of this latest sick-making instruction. The cane taps lightly across her bare thigh. ‘Action please.’ Mr Greeley’s voice is brisk. ‘I want to see a nice immediate response in everything. Have you got that, Amanda? Otherwise you will be having some very serious arguments with this cane.’ Then came the smacks on her thigh again. Harder this time. A sharp sting. ‘All right?’

Amanda takes her things off. There are little sounds, like half-strangled sobs. She is afraid she will simply burst into tears. Her blouse. Her bra. Her knickers slid down. As a distracted afterthought she slips off her shoes, then completes the removal of the prim white knickers. Amanda is nude. She has a quite delicious figure. Arthur Greeley is acquainted with her bare bottom of course but is seeing the upper part of her nude for the first time. The tits are not overly large but quite delightful, firm and pert. She is making an embarrassed attempt to hide them, and the neat brown bush as well. Arthur Greeley pushes the hands away and takes a no-nonsense hold of the pretty tits himself ‘What a pretty girl, Amanda. And what a lucky fellow that young man is.’ The hands squeeze.

‘Well, I suppose we must make a start. Give your pretty bottom something to think about. Yes?’

He makes Amanda lie over the coffee table. Kneeling at the end and her upper body, with the lovely nude tits, stretched across the top. Her hands gripping the far edge. ‘I don’t want you jerking about all over the place, my dear. I want you to hold tight and keep your bottom still. As still as you can. We must hurt it of course. That is what this is all about…’

CRACKK!

The unbelievable impact of the cane comes as Mr Greeley is still talking; as he enunciates that last word. Because he is still talking Amanda is in no way prepared for it. It is a bolt from nowhere. Not that a warning — Mr Greeley saying ‘All right, here it is now. Hang on…’ — would have helped much. In spite of Mr Greeley’s instructions Amanda’s hands jerk away from the table edge. Her legs splay out, like a frog in full flight, providing for an instant an intimate view of her pussy. Then she sort of slithers to the floor. The cane’s impact was marked by a frantic screech. This tails off into desperate whimperings. These sounds continue as Mr Greeley hauls Amanda back into position.

‘That wasn’t very good, Amanda. If you can’t do any better than that I shall have to keep at you all morning. Now… let’s try again.’

CRACKK!

Amanda’s screech is just as loud, as frantic, but somehow this time she does keep hold of the table. Her twice-stricken bottom, though, is doing feverish gyrations; the cheeks clenching, jerking, writhing.

‘That’s a bit better…’

CRACCKK!

The third; quite as shattering, threatening to cut Amanda in half, as the other two. ‘Noo…ooo…’ she squeals. ‘Noo…ooo…’

The cane lightly smacks her writhing, now triple-striped bottom. ‘Don’t be silly, my dear. You’ve got to have a lot more yet. A lot more today and then all the other days. But… we will have a break in a little while. When you’ve had a few more. All right? Hold on then.’

CRACKKK!

----//----

The room is in almost complete darkness although it is still the middle of the day: late morning. But the heavy curtains are closed and let in only a minute glimmer of daylight, and none of the room lights are on. ‘It’s much more restful like this,’ Mr Greeley said. Helping Amanda into the cool sheets of the bed.

Mr Greeley went out immediately afterwards — how long ago? — and Amanda is quite content to be in the dark; she doesn’t want to see anything, only nurse that still hot, throbbing pain in her bottom. How many…? it felt like it could have been 50… 100… That is what it feels as if she has had. And this is only her first day; the first morning. With Mr Greeley now speaking of not just two weeks but possibly three… or more.

Amanda stifles another sob. What… happens now? What is there apart from being caned? She should have spoken to that Susan Anwing. She was sent here to this dreadful Mr Greeley. She would have told her. But Amanda hadn’t wanted to do that. Had wanted to believe that somehow it wasn’t really going to happen. And in any case… Susan might have told her… something Amanda didn’t want to hear?

Suddenly in the darkness there is a little sound. A creaking sound. Quite distinct from any other sounds there have been. The other sounds have anyway all come from Amanda herself — sobs, sniffs, little gasps — and this is a sound coming from the other side of the room. A creaking. She realises it was the door opening. So it must be… Yes.

The bed dips down at the side as he sits on it. His voice in the darkness is soft, caressing. Seductive. ‘How are we then. Feeling better?’ And then… he is pulling back the covers. Amanda shivers. She is still nude for one thing. Mr Greeley is…

----//----

What is she doing now? At this moment? Or perhaps more to the point what is Mr Greeley doing? Bob of course would be well advised to think of something else. Anything else. But he can’t. He hasn’t been able to for scarcely one moment in the last two days… and the last two nights, because he has laid awake for virtually the whole of those two nights. In a way the nights are worse than the days. Because whereas during the day he can picture Amanda being bent over a table, a chair, anything admittedly is pretty dreadful, at night he can picture… something else. He does picture something else, however much he tries to slide his mind away from it. Two days now. Two and a half in fact. She went on the Saturday morning and it is now Monday evening. Eight o’clock. So very shortly… it will be night-time again…

----//----

It is 8 o’clock but Amanda is in her pyjamas already. Pink with dark red collar and cuffs. ‘Charming, don’t you think?’ Arthur Greeley says. He is addressing not Amanda but a third party. A friend. His name is George Pulane. This of course is a dimension Bob has not considered; that there could be as it were two Mr Greeleys. Mike has not mentioned anything of this — but then perhaps it didn’t happen with Susan: a friend invited. ‘Very charming,’ Arthur Greeley repeats.

Amanda is standing between the two men as they sit in the armchair and on the settee. Standing at attention and not looking very happy. ‘And now take the pyjama bottoms off, my dear. Mr Pulane wants to have a look at that pretty bottom. Don’t you, George? Mr Pulane is going to stay the night, Amanda. Won’t that be nice? Fun. The three of us.’

The two men grin at each other. Amanda, tight-lipped, is shortly nude from the waist down.

‘Nice,’ Mr Pulane says. ‘Come here, will you? Let me see.’ Amanda steps numbly to him. His hand goes to her taut bottom, which shows the marks of an earlier caning. The hand then slides round to her front. To that neat brown bush.

Arthur Greeley laughs. ‘A lovely girl, eh? And coming along very nicely. Aren’t you, Amanda dear?’