Russian Spring

A story from Blushes 20 bearing the hallmarks of R.T. Mason. It features the lovely Samantha Richards, who wrote to the Janus website regarding her modelling experience – see Memories of a Blushes Spanking Model.

The grounds were kept as they had been many years before, before the revolution, modelled on those of the English leisured classes. Paved walks and well-kept lawns… a summer house protection against the sun and rain. For the climate here, away from the fiercer winters to the north, was not un-English and there could be those long rainy days in summer. Outside the grounds though, it wasn’t England; it was Russian forest, with beyond that, a collective farm.

The girl stood by the weathered summer house. Teenaged, 17 in fact, tallish and shapely in a white dress against the rather dull spring day. A palely pretty face framed by dark curling hair, she also, without too much stretch of the imagination, could have been the daughter of some English aristocrat. In fact Tanya Sergevna Galinova came from the town of Yalinsk 50 miles away, her father a factory worker.

She stood, pensive, fingers playing abstractedly with her dress. Comrade Director Krotkin had been called in for the phone, going off angrily, annoyed at the interruption. He would only be a minute. Tanya Sergevna bit her lip. She could feel her heart thumping.

A train ride this morning, arriving at the little station to be met by the big black car which took her the remaining few miles. It was all tremendously exciting for Tanya had never been anywhere by herself before. It had been tremendously exciting ever since she had learnt that she had been chosen for this honour. It was because she was a grade A student in all her subjects at school of course. That and no doubt also the fact that Tanya Galinova was a very pretty girl.

Her friend Olga when Tanya told her had giggled and whispered in Tanya’s ears, ‘He’ll screw you.’

Olga of course was jealous, that was why she had said that, using that crude word. Tanya going red had twisted Olga’s arm behind her back until she withdrew the nasty things she’d said. Tanya’s mother indeed had stressed that it was not only an honour but could be very valuable to Tanya. Comrade Krotkin was Regional Director of Education and clearly had great influence; he could therefore see that Tanya got a place at a prestige university. So it behoved Tanya to be on her very best and most charming behaviour.

No, Natalia Galinova did not think Comrade Krotkin would want to do what Olga had wickedly whispered. Because she knew someone who knew someone else whose daughter had been to that estate as a companion for Comrade Director Krotkin and the information was that he did not want to do that. He was, though, a keen disciplinarian. He did like to use the cane.

Natalia Galinova, kissing her daughter goodbye this morning, had not been too unhappy about the possibility of the cane. That was a small price to pay if a girl’s future could be secured. She was thinking that still, now, queuing outside a bread shop in Yalinsk as here on the old estate Comrade Krotkin came out of the house after his annoying phone call.

It was annoying because it had not been anything of any great importance, a matter his office should have been able to deal with without calling him. He, Oleg Ivanovitch Krotkin, would deal with certain persons when he got back because when a man went off for a short and well-earned break he expected to be able to relax and forget the cares of the office. With a little effort Oleg Krotkin dismissed the matter from his mind. He must not feel annoyed because that would spoil his pleasure, his relaxation.

His pleasure with this delightful girl.

He walked out. A pleasant spring afternoon but mild and the sense of nature stirring. A marvellous time of the year to get away to the estate where there were just the housekeeper and a couple of gardeners plus his chauffeur. In the old days probably hundreds of servants here but Oleg Krotkin liked solitude. Just one young companion. One at a time that was. Had that aristocrat in the old days had similar pleasures? Peasant girls on the estate? Very likely, life did not really change.

He went to sit on one of the canvas chairs. The girl was still waiting by the summer house. He called her over. Yes, quite delightful. A liquid youthful walk. Slim but with fullish hips. She came close, to stand at his side. Director Krotkin slid his hand up her skirt. Up the backs of bare thighs to the firm swell of her bottom. A bottom that was almost bare, the vestigial silk garment bisecting rather than covering the rounded cheeks.

Tanya’s breath hissed out. She had expected him to do this, though, because he had done it already before. He had done it as soon as she got out of the big black car when she arrived. Greeting her with a kiss on each cheek and then his hand going up her skirt.

Tanya had had her own knickers on then, and her own dress as well. Her own cotton knickers which properly covered her bottom, but inside the house when the housekeeper showed Tanya her room she had shown her also what was in a drawer. Silk knickers in various colours that were all very, very brief. Laughing and holding up a pair of white briefs she said they came from France.

‘Nice and sexy, eh Tanya? Are you a sexy girl?’

And there was also the dress in a cupboard. That came from England: a beautiful white lawn dress with lace embroidery at the neck and sleeves. Tanya was to take her own clothes off and put the dress and knickers on. Nothing else. No petticoat and no bra. Tanya had naturally done as she was told though now with that thing that Olga had said spinning round in her head: He’ll screw you, Tanya. The housekeeper, a middle-aged woman with a round smiling face, had said again, ‘Are you a sexy girl, Tanya?’

Flushing, Tanya had shaken her head. Downstairs of course Comrade Director Krotkin was waiting. Telling her how lovely she looked. Briefly squeezing the bumps that Tanya’s firm tits made in the front of the thin cotton dress. And then sliding his hand up the dress to her bottom in those almost non-existent knickers. After this second greeting he took her out to the garden, but almost immediately there was the phone call. Now he was back and she at his side and Comrade Director Krotkin’s hand was up at her bottom again.

‘The wretched phone, Tanya Sergevna. What a dreadful invention, eh? So, what are we to do with this delightful girl, to amuse her? Smack her delightful bottom would you say?’

What could you say to that? Tanya smiled weakly. Her mother of course had said be on her very best behaviour. Charming and of course co-operative. But her mother presumably didn’t know about Comrade Krotkin’s grabbing hands. Or these knickers. An involuntary little squeak as fingers probed intimately.

‘Croquet, Tanya? Have you played croquet?’

Tanya shook her head. The croquet things were at the side. Tanya recognised what they were but she had never played the game.

Comrade Krotkin smiled.

‘Excellent, Tanya Sergevna. I shall teach you. As it happens I am quite good. We will have a game and if you win I shall give you five roubles. If I win I shall cane this marvellous bottom. Is that fair?’ he laughed. ‘You are not likely to win, of course. Unless there is beginner’s luck.’

Tanya shivered. She saw now what she hadn’t noticed before, standing with the croquet mallets. A cane. He presumably wasn’t joking? But at least being caned would not be as bad as… as what Olga had said.

There was no beginner’s luck. Tanya got the hang of the game but the Comrade Director was playing to win. He would ruthlessly knock Tanya’s ball away, something that was apparently allowed in the rules. Yes, Comrade Krotkin won all right.

He squeezed her arm as they walked back to the chairs. And then Comrade Krotkin’s hand was at Tanya’s bottom again. He did seem to be obsessed by that part of her. ‘So now we have the rewards and penalties, eh Tanya?’

Yes. Kneel up on one of the canvas chairs and hold onto the back. Comrade Krotkin grabbing up the skirt of that expensive dress, up round her waist. Making appreciative sounds, and groping her half-bare bottom. Then pushing the abbreviated briefs right into the cleft of her bottom so that the twin cheeks were quite bare. More grunts of approval. Tanya, gripping onto the seat, feeling sick with apprehension, fright. That cane…

She had never been caned. There was the cane at school but girls had it across the hand and in any case Tanya Sergevna Galinova had never been either. Always a grade A student. Unfortunately it was the good students, the best behaved ones, that Director Krotkin liked. Those who were also pretty and with a nice figure of course. Those were the ones he requested.

Crack!… ‘Aaooowwww!’

Tanya’s desperate yelp splitting the silence of the tranquil garden. She had thought, or hoped, that it might not be hard, more of a joke because it could only be a joke that you got caned for losing a game of croquet. But it was no joke, not that stinging, vicious cut across the full out-thrust curve of her bottom. It was like a swarm of bees all going in at once.

The second was as bad as the first; worse because it was on top of that already knifing pain. Tanya’s taut bottom writhing, clenching. Oleg Krotkin observing with rapt-eyed gloating pleasure.

As Regional Director of course he could bring students here and no one was going to question it. Checking up on the better students, an honour for them in fact, and at the same time a little taste of discipline never went amiss.

Only girls naturally. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. The good-looking good performers, the ones who therefore wouldn’t have experienced it before. Virgin flesh, one could say. Virgin to the cane at least.

Crack!… ‘Aaaooooglllbbb…’

The cry this time not so sharp and clear because pretty Tanya Sergevna was now crying. Sobbing. It was a sound Oleg Krotkin loved to hear and he would probably have continued with the cane until he did hear it. Much more than the sharp squeals it was evidence that the pretty young comrade was suffering, and a little genuine suffering and pain was an excellent thing in any young life. He gave her three more, just to make quite sure of the suffering.

Then putting down the cane. His hand running lightly over his handiwork, the red-striped bottom. Oh yes. Marvellous. This was what made the spring sap rise. Helping the sobbing girl to her feet. His arm round the slim waist. Oh yes. There was nothing like whipping a young comrade to get the blood coursing through the veins.

In the house Director Krotkin poured some wine, then sat Tanya on his lap. His hand rubbed briskly over those delightful bumps at the front of her dress. Yes indeed. He had certainly been cooped up in his office for far too long. ‘How was that, Tanya Sergevna? Rousing to the young flesh?’

Tanya stuttered something. Her bottom which she now had to sit on was still stinging dreadfully.

‘What I think you need before we eat is perhaps a nice warm bath, eh? To soothe the tender flesh.’ Comrade Krotkin pushed her to her feet. ‘Take off the dress. Also the knickers.’

Yes, a little more pleasure for an over-worked official. Important state functionaries needed some relaxation, so that they could operate efficiently. Tanya fumbled with her dress. Olga’s words kept coming back into her head but she forced them away, Co-operative and willing, her mother had said, so that Director Krotkin would see she got that university place. She would mention it — when the moment seemed right. Her dress off she stood before him, making her hands stay down at her sides and not cover the firm, high breasts.

‘And the knickers, my pretty.’ Tanya slid down the skimpy silk pants. Yes she would say something to the Comrade Director. When the time was right. That was not now, though… as Comrade Krotkin pulled her forward and down, face-down, over his lap. His hand at the still sore bottom. Stroking.

Outside, the tranquil garden silent now except for the song of a few bright-eyed birds. The sun hidden by cloud but its warmth pervading, warming the earth, swelling the buds, forcing up the sap.

The model — Samantha Richards