The Taming of Tania

An epic tale from Blushes 35 with a very attractive model

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

‘Stand here. Put your hands on your head. Look straight in front of you, and speak only if you are asked a question.’ The grey-haired man stood in the centre of the room and pointed to a spot on the carpet, a few feet away from where her mother was sitting. The girl felt tempted to turn and run, but the man frightened her. She obeyed his instructions. Quietly, she walked towards her mother, stood, feet together just in front of her, and raised her arms, placing her hands one above the other on the back of her head.

‘This is a Court Summons.’ The man picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and held it up in front of her. She read the first lines, and saw her full name type-written on the form. ‘Disobey me just once, Miss Price, and this summons will be delivered by hand to the Justices.’

Young Tania Price was by now feeling very nervous and wishing she was anywhere other than Greywood Manor. The long coach journey with her mother had shaken her up. And she knew her visit to the Manor would be very uncomfortable. Her mother had almost dragged her onto the coach. ‘I knew you were growing rather… unruly… since Arthur left us…’ she had sobbed, dabbing her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. ‘But I never thought you’d actually…’ Her words tailed off as she contemplated again her daughter’s activities.

The man drew up a chair and sat down opposite the girl’s mother, so that Tania was standing between them. She felt uneasy. It was not just the building or her mother’s distress, or even the fact that she’d been found out. It was the intimacy of the situation somehow. In this spacious old office they were seated so close to her. She could sense her mother’s perfume, and could almost feel the tweed of the man’s trousers brushing against her denim. And standing there, with her hands on her head, she felt so… so vulnerable. They were watching her, considering her. And she could do nothing about it.

Suddenly she felt the man’s hands about her hips. She glanced downwards, quickly. He was fingering the top button of her jeans, unfastening it, pulling the zip down. He was taking her jeans down, tugging them away from the waist, revealing a silly skimpy pair of white knickers. A sudden fluster of panic grabbed her and she threw down her arms, attempting to grab her jeans, hoping to preserve her feminine modesty. The man simply reached across to the desk and raised the Summons once again. Slowly, despairingly, Tania lifted her arms, placed her hands back on her head, and left her jeans to tumble down her long legs in a gesture of surrender.

‘Your daughter is well-developed, Mrs Price.’ The man took her by her hips and turned her slightly. ‘Good firm thighs.’ He slapped her, quite casually, across the very top of her leg, just beneath the line of her knickers. He sat back. ‘Quite simply, Mrs Price, your daughter has committed not one, but several criminal acts. Her visit to the Manor is her last chance.’

The man turned his attention again to the nineteen-year-old standing before him. With her arms raised, her thin T-shirt had risen, revealing a band of pale flesh just above her waist. Her denim jeans were nestled around her ankles. A faint red rash was just noticeable across the lower curves of her bottom, below the protection of her knickers, where the man had smacked her. ‘We need not debate why you are here, Miss Price?’ Again, the man was reaching up to the waistband of the girl’s knickers. ‘We all agree that your final act of misbehaviour was… was quite appalling.’ Confident fingers slipped between the tight elastic of her knickers and her warm soft flesh. ‘I intend to smack your bottom, Miss Price. Very hard. Right now. And with your mother’s full approval.’

Suddenly, Tania’s knickers were being lowered, pulled right down, to flutter down her legs to rest with her jeans around her ankles. She was naked, her bottom and long legs quite bare, just inches away from her mother and this dreadful man. He stood up, almost touching her, and placed the outstretched palm of his left hand against the soft warmth of her tummy, low down, the tips of his fingers almost nestling amid the profusion of short dark-brown curls. He bent her forward until her bottom was more tightly curved and facing her mother. And then, with his free right hand, he smacked her.

‘Your daughter must remember, Mrs Price…’ Each of his sentences were accompanied by a firm crisp smack across Tania’s bare bottom. ‘That although she is now nineteen years of age…’ He paused, applying another firm smack, the impact echoing around the lofty room. ‘…she is not too old to be smacked, firmly, across her bare bottom…’ The girl’s heavy breathing included the occasional squeal as the man’s hand impacted painfully with her bare bottom flesh. Each smack pushed her forward, but he was supporting her, holding her there, so that he could go on smacking her.

Mrs Price watched as the man tanned her daughter, firmly, precisely, and comprehensively, until the whole roundness of the girl’s pert bottom was a gentle crimson in colour. Eventually, he released his grip and told the girl to stand upright once again. Her hands fluttered downwards, anxious to soothe the stinging rash which had spread across her bottom. ‘On your head, young lady…’ The command was no more than a soft reminder. Tania immediately returned her hands to her head, and sniffed quietly.

The man sat back and quietly studied the girl standing in front of him. ‘Good. I think the first lesson has been learnt.’ He turned to the woman, still sitting opposite him, clutching her handbag. ‘And my thanks to you, Mrs Price, for your support and patience. We will certainly be successful with young Tania, here, have no fear. A few firm days at Greywood, and your daughter will be a new girl.’

Politely, he ushered the woman to the door, pausing only to allow her to kiss her daughter goodbye. As he opened the door, he pointed to a package on the desk. ‘While I am gone, Tania, please get dressed in the House Uniform. Your mother has provided your measurements.’ The door clicked shut, and young Tania was left alone with her embarrassment and her reddened well-tanned bottom.

IN HOT WATER

That first evening, the man had reminded her. ‘You are here to be punished.’ He recited the facts of her case. She coloured as he listed every detail. Especially about that confrontation in the youth club. ‘You were a trusted person, Tania. And how did you repay that trust?’ She had hung her head; stared at the bedroom carpet. He promised to teach her a lesson that evening. A lesson she would never forget. He turned to leave. ‘I will return in five minutes. By then, I expect to see your bare bottom.’ He emphasised the word ‘bare’, staring at her, catching the nervous flutter of her eyes. ‘To be precise, Tania; take your shorts and knickers down to your knees, and get up on your bed…’

Tania knew the evening would end with another tanning. That morning he had smacked her, in front of her mother, and she had yelled as her bottom had stung with the almost endless impact of his palm. And then, that afternoon she had been made to touch her toes while a large leather sandal was applied to her bottom. At least they had allowed her to keep her shorts on. Even the ‘House Uniform’ embarrassed her. This silly pair of shorts which made her feel so childish…

And now he wanted to see her bottom yet again. That fact alone made her blush hotly with embarrassment. But he would punish her bottom as well. She felt afraid, again. She clambered onto the bed, and hurriedly unfastened the shorts, concerned that he might return before she was ready for him. She tugged the tight shorts downwards, to a position just below the curve of her bottom cheeks. Her little knickers followed. And she knelt there, in silence, awaiting the man’s return. Wondering if the punishment of the afternoon was still written in red blotches across her cheeks.

When he returned, her anxious eyes saw the hot water bottle in his hand. ‘You are well aware of the significance of this article, aren’t you?’ she nodded, her frightened eyes still staring at the rubber bottle in his hand. ‘Lie face down. Now.’ She almost collapsed into the bed-clothes, only too aware that her bared bottom was still so prominent. ‘One full minute you forced that girl, didn’t you?’ Tania chose not to reply. ‘One full minute.’ The man leaned forward and placed the hot water bottle across the very fullness of Tania’s bottom cheeks, so that the heat touched the twin summits of her round buttocks. ‘Put your hands behind your back…’ The girl obeyed, twisting her body slightly as she placed both arms behind her, at the base of her back. ‘One full minute, young lady. Let us see how you appreciate the experience…’

The hot water bottle was scorching hot. And it was resting across her bared bottom. Within seconds, the heat began to spread across her sensitive flesh. The man was checking his watch, counting the full minute, so slowly. She turned her head away from him. ‘Perhaps if your bottom had been tanned more frequently, it would be less sensitive, young lady?’ There was a mocking scorn in the old man’s voice. ‘And believe me, young lady. If you remove that bottle from your bottom before I tell you to, I will cane you. That is a promise…’ Tania closed her eyes as the pain burned into her bottom flesh. And she remembered how she had taunted and harmed that other girl. She wondered how they had got to hear about it. And then the stinging pain in her bottom really hit her.

She felt the man’s fingers pulling at her shorts and knickers, tugging them even further down her legs. She was aware that her bottom was wobbling as he moved her clothing, the hot water bottle moving from side to side. Reluctantly, she felt the desperate need to wriggle, if only to move the scorching rubber to another area of her bottom flesh. She opened her legs a little wider, and moved slowly, one buttock and then the other… And the man stood above her, watching, checking his watch. ‘So this is your idea of fun, Miss Price? I wonder how you enjoy it?’ He watched, noting the redness which was appearing on the girl’s bottom, close to the presence of the hot water bottle.

Eventually, and inevitably, Tania could stand the burning no more. ‘No more. Oh Christ. No more…’ She twisted around, and pulled the rubber bottle away from her flesh. ‘Jesus Christ. That hurts…’

The man knew it hurt. One of Tania’s victims had told him, quite graphically. He removed the bottle from the bed, and stood back, observing the oval of crimson flesh which covered the highest points of the girl’s bottom. He sat down on the bed beside her. He told her to get up and to place herself across his knee. In a blur of heat and pain she obeyed, draping herself across his trousered lap. He moved her, physically, using his hands against her legs and her thighs until he was satisfied with her position. And then he rested the palm of his right hand against the very warmest area of her bared bottom. ‘So now you know?’ He waited for her reply. ‘Will you ever do it again?’ She assured him, loudly and at length as he slapped her, making sure that every smack of his hand fell precisely upon the warmest roundest part of her bottom.

Later, he told her to kneel up again. But this time, she was to raise her tee-shirt as well. ‘Right up, Tania.’ He waited as she took the hem of the tee-shirt in her fingers and rucked it up, revealing her trim tummy and her slim waist. ‘Higher, Tania. Expose your breasts.’ She was beginning to hate the way in which he was so candid and so brutally precise in his orders. He wanted to see her breasts; and as he had so clearly commented to her mother that very morning, young Tania Price was very well-developed. Her breasts were quite full and firm. Except that they rarely flopped around underneath a thin tee-shirt without the support of her bra. Wishing she was dead, Tania pulled up her tee-shirt until her two pink bobbing breasts with their pert firm tips of darker red slipped out into view. ‘Bend forward.’ His order came, only after that dreadful hot water bottle had been placed upon the bed, just where her breasts would rest.

The man continued to be precise in his commands. ‘Support yourself with your arms and ensure your bottom is perfectly placed for my cane…’ She knelt down, holding her young body taut above the burning threat of the hot water bottle. ‘Lift your hips.’ She obeyed again, knowing that her action would ensure that her bottom and her thighs were exposed in the most obscene manner she could imagine.

The man tapped his cane lightly across Tania’s firm thighs. ‘Yes. A well-developed bottom, young lady.’ He leaned forward and tugged her shorts with their little bib further down to expose the full fleshy bareness of her thighs. ‘Lift up your bottom further… come on… bend your knees…’ He waited and watched as the girl’s bare bottom wobbled from side to side with the effort of presenting her half-naked bottom in a more tightly curved manner. The man was still not satisfied. ‘Right up, young lady. Push your head right down, and your bottom right up.’ Again he leaned forward, pulling the girl’s wrists away from beneath her arched body, placing them behind her back. ‘Keep them there.’

He walked around the foot of the single bed. ‘There is only one way to present a bottom for a caning, Miss Price.’ He flexed the cane between his hands. ‘The only acceptable position is one which tells me whether I am dealing with a blonde, or a brunette or otherwise, while I am caning her. I am always surprised by the number of girls who colour their hair, these days.’ He allowed himself a quiet smile as he encouraged the girl to part her thighs even further, tapping the cold tip of the cane against the innermost part of one thigh and then the other. ‘We soon find out, though.’

Tania’s eyes were tightly closed. She could imagine only too well the view which she was presenting to that awful man. And she could feel the rising heat from the hot water bottle, nestling just a few inches below her. If she slipped forward, or lowered her bottom. Thankfully, her tee-shirt had slipped down a little. At least the tips of her breasts were hidden again. The fact that the man knew all the details of her recent activities rather alarmed her. She wondered if these people knew everything… and what they intended to do about it. The man’s quiet voice awoke her from her surmises. ‘And now… I am going to cane you… as a punishment for your appalling behaviour…’ It was a phrase he used frequently when dealing with female miscreants. He knew it would frighten all but the most hardened young visitors to the Manor. He watched as the girl’s ample bottom flinched in response to his words. He caned many bottoms at Greywood. But few were quite as well-rounded as the one which belonged to Miss Tania Price.

Her breasts, however, were delightfully pert and firm but not as fully-developed as her bottom. He raised the cane, and whipped it down. She first heard the faint whistle of the bamboo slicing through the air. And then the noise of the impact. And then, a split-second later, the angry sting of a thousand bees in a long thin line right across her bare bottom. She yelled, loudly, and slipped forward. Her tee-shirt just brushed the smelly hot rubber of the hot water bottle.

The man waited for her to compose herself. ‘Get back up. Keep your bottom quite still.’ He walked around to the side of the small bed, checking the position of the rubber bottle. ‘Fold your shirt right up.’ He waited, as Tania struggled to expose her breasts without toppling over. ‘Come on. Position yourself properly… I want your breasts right above the bottle…’ he threw the cane down onto the bedspread beside her. ‘Come on…’ He moved her into the acceptable position, his hand occasionally cupping the breasts as they hung downwards, her nipples waving to and fro just above the bottle. ‘It’s only what you deserve, isn’t it?’ The girl’s only reply was a faint sob. ‘Well isn’t it? If this punishment is unreasonable, you may get up and go… right now…’ He retrieved the cane, and tapped one slightly wobbling bottom-cheek. ‘Well? It’s simply a dose of your own medicine, isn’t it?’ Again he waited, continuing to tap the girl’s bottom. Eventually, she managed a quiet ‘Yes’. It was confession enough.

He stood back, raised the bamboo for a second time and implanted a further angry arc of pain across both bottom cheeks. Again the impact prompted the girl to move forward, rocking a little, her breasts hanging so close to the bottle. Before she expected it, the third stroke arrived, and the fourth. And with the fifth stroke, she lost control.

She made a desperate bid to keep her balance, but her thighs and knees gave way. She collapsed down onto the bed, her breasts pressed flat into the hot water bottle. To her relief, the water was becoming slightly cooler, the heat being radiated into the bed. It was still very hot. She would be able to bear it for a while, just like earlier when he had balanced it upon her poor bottom.

‘Stay there.’ The man was looking at his watch again, just as before. ‘Now you may realise the pain you caused…’ There was an all-pervading silence in the small room. Tania, her bottom stinging and glowing with the assault of the cane, remained collapsed on top of the bed, the hot water bottle gradually warming her breasts towards a state of real discomfort. Silently she agreed with the man. Deep down inside. Yes. Now she knew what it felt like. Not that her actions had been quite like this. Perhaps what she had done had been even worse because it was unjustified. At least she had to confess that there really was a reason why she should be lying in this small room in this dark daunting building, half-naked, with a strange old man considering her striped aching bottom.

She made to get up. To remove her breasts from the rubber of the bottle. ‘Stay still. I will count down from twenty seconds. You may get up as soon as I start counting. But whatever number I speak as you move, that number of strokes will be applied to your bottom.’

Tania began to cry. Her emotions, a mixture of anger, pain and a thousand other feelings. She forced herself to remain against the bottle. The man began to count. He counted so slowly in a strange droning voice. There was just no way she could cope with another very long caning. But that bottle was so very hot… she finally gave in, and scrambled to her knees, pausing in her sobs to hear the number he was calling ‘…Eleven. Ah. You have moved, Miss Price. Eleven strokes it will be…’

She was greatly relieved when she saw the man remove the bottle, slinging it onto the carpet beside the bed. The bedclothes were hollowed slightly where the bottle had rested, and where the girl’s sweating limbs had lain. ‘Get up. Sit on the edge of the bed. Put your hands by your side…’ She obeyed instantly, knowing her face was very flushed. Looking down, she saw her breasts were a deep rash of pink, ‘Now lean back… right back…’ He pushed her down, so that she was lying on her back on the bed with her bottom perched on the very edge. And then, to Tania’s continued shame, he took hold of her ankles, raising them, lifting her legs right up until her toes were pointing upwards towards the ceiling. ‘Link your hand behind your knees.’ The man’s orders were still so calm and precise. She wrapped her arms around her upper legs, linking her fingers for strength. Lying there, staring at the ceiling, she knew she was ready again for her punishment. ‘Good.’ He was flexing his evil cane again. ‘Good. Another perfect position.’ He raised the bamboo above her. This time she could see its tip quivering in the air. Waiting to strike. Ready to sizzle through the air towards her rudely exposed bottom. ‘Now how many did we agree?’ She whispered the number. ‘Yes. Eleven strokes. And you will count each and every one of them…’

THE NURSERY POSITION

The following morning, young Tania was woken by the clatter of a metal tray beside her pillow. She jumped, her body still very nervy from the experiences of the previous day. Through blurred eyes she saw another young face. ‘Please… wake up…’ The girl shook Tania very gently by the shoulder. ‘This is your breakfast. You must eat and then get dressed. And then it will be your bathtime…’ Before the sleepy Tania could engage the maid in any form of conversation, she left, closing the door very quietly and carefully behind her.

A gentle tap on the door. Tania was still getting dressed, attempting to squeeze her poor bottom into that ridiculous bib and shorts set. Since the caning of the previous evening her bottom felt even rounder than usual. And it still felt sore, though a quick inspection in the mirror failed to reveal any real marks. The door opened. It was the young girl again. She reached down and picked up the tray. ‘It is your bathtime. Please go to the bathroom. It is the last door along the corridor on the right…’ Once again, the maid almost tiptoed out of the room and closed the door softly behind her.

Tania followed the directions. If she refused, she knew by now that it would be her bottom which would pay. And she was beginning to discover that these awful people had no shortage of ideas and techniques and implements with which to punish the bottoms of young girls. Perhaps today would be different. Perhaps the first day had been the ‘short sharp shock’ which everyone talked about. Now things would be different. They would treat her like a young adult. And all this taking down of her knickers, and bending her across beds and tables would cease. She turned right at the end of the passageway. She could feel the warmth and the steam of the bathroom, and the sound of running water. At first she thought the young maid had run the bath for her, and would be waiting with a set of soft long bath towels. She opened the door and smiled. By the side of the bath, seated on a simple bathroom chair, she suddenly saw a youngish-looking man, his shirt sleeves rolled up. He smiled back. ‘Good morning Miss Price. I am here to bath you.’

Tania tried to retreat. She was shaking her head. ‘Oh no. Oh no. I can bath myself I don’t need anyone…’ But the man was getting up and walking across to her. ‘At the Manor, Miss Price, you obey each and every instruction. And on this occasion, I will bath you.’ He pushed shut the door behind her, pushing her further into the small room. She heard the bolt being slid into place. ‘Now get undressed please. Your water is ready.’

She stared at him, still shaking her head. ‘Get undressed? In front of… of you?’

The man folded his arms. ‘This could take all day, Miss Price, if you persist in arguing.’ He unfastened the bib of her shorts, letting it drop down forward. ‘Your lessons today will be called the Nursery Class. It is an attempt to demonstrate to you that childish behaviour in teenage girls can be treated most effectively by taking the miscreant back to her nursery days. Hence the clothes, Miss Price. Little shorts and a bib. Childish clothes hiding the body of a young woman. He put his bare arm around her, tugging the tight shorts up a little higher, exposing a few more inches of her right thigh. And then he slapped her, high up, across the girlish flesh he had exposed. ‘Now please remove your shorts, Miss Price, immediately, before we have to resort to firmer methods.’

Only moments before, Tania had struggled into the wretched clothes. Now, once again, she was undressing. She unbuttoned them at the waist, and pushed them down until they rested around her knees. ‘Right down, please, child.’ She leaned forward, feeling very awkward and flustered in front of this man, in such claustrophobic surroundings. She pushed the shorts down to her ankles and stepped out of them. ‘Pick them up and hand them to me, neatly folded.’ His words made her blush. He was talking down to her. Quite deliberately. Making her feel just two feet high. A naughty child who couldn’t be trusted. A naughty child who needed to be supervised even when she was undressing. Even when it was her morning bathtime.

She folded the shorts quickly and held them out to him. He took them from her. ‘Hands on head, child. Let’s take a look at you.’ She stretched her arms upwards, and assumed a position which was becoming all too familiar to her. A well-endowed girl of nineteen years. In just a flimsy cotton tee-shirt and even flimsier knickers. And nothing else. Standing with her hands on her head while this man smiled at her and looked at her and turned her round so that he could look at her bottom and her thighs and the backs of those long legs… ‘Now repeat after me… I am a naughty little girl…’

Tania wished the earth would open beneath her and swallow her up and end this awful experience. ‘I am a naughty little girl…’ she echoed. ‘…and I must be punished for all my naughtiness…’

From the shelf beside the bath, the man produced a tape-measure. He held it against the girl. ‘How tall are you, Miss Price? I’m sure you know?’ Tania guessed she was about 5’7” or 5’8”. The man nodded in agreement. ‘Yes. Your legs make you look taller, don’t they?’ He stood right in front of her. ‘Lift your tee-shirt up please. I wish to measure your breasts…’ Still burning with embarrassment, Tania crossed her arms in front of her, took hold of the hem of the shirt and pulled it up until her breasts bobbed into view.

‘Yes. My colleague commented on your breasts at our meeting this morning.’ He slipped the tape measure between the tee-shirt and the girl’s skin and read the measurement without further comment. ‘And your bottom. A most useful measurement. Please slip your knickers down…’

In a second of total confusion, Tania refused. Somehow the bare-bottomed punishments of the past twenty-four hours had been bad enough. But at least the man was elderly and obviously quite senior. A magistrate or something. As she had lain on her bed, waiting for the cane, somehow the man’s age had eased the situation. As if he had great experience and responsibility relating to naughty young ladies. But this younger man… In another place and another time, she would even think of him as rather good-looking. The sort she wouldn’t mind bumping into on a dark night when she wanted something male and warm next to her. To consider this man punishing her. Telling her to take her knickers down so that he could measure how big her bare bottom was. It was all too insulting. Too terrible. She just wouldn’t do it. Even if it meant going home and going into that court. ‘No.’ She looked at him. ‘No I won’t. Sod your tape measure.’

She ran to the door and started fumbling with the lock. ‘Even if that old man canes me again…’ She glanced back over her shoulder, expecting the man to be coming towards her. ‘…I don’t care. I’m not undressing here… not in front of you… and you’re not going to bath me… It’s… It’s… obscene…’ She surprised herself at her clarity of thought and the boldness of her actions, knowing that she would be punished dreadfully. Assuming that the older man would up-end her across her bed again and cane her, hard.

The bolt refused to move. She tugged at it with a violent panicky action. The younger man was sitting down, on the chair beside the bath. He let her go on wrestling with the door, watching the twin globes of her nicely rounded bottom jostling up and down beneath the thin white knickers as she pushed and pulled and twisted at the lock. ‘You silly little girl.’ She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him. He was shaking his head and smiling a cynical condescending sort of smile. ‘You silly stupid child.’ She felt like shouting at him again. Telling him she was not a child. Reminding him that she was a well-developed young adult. ‘Come here. I have the key. You won’t be leaving quite yet. And the Senior Tutor is unavailable this morning, even for caning…’

He waited, tapping his lap with his hand, softly and pointing with his other hand to the bath mat. Tania continued to shake her head. ‘No… no… It’s wrong… you probably want to… to…’

The man offered a few suggestions. ‘Rape you?’ She coloured to the point of feeling faint with the blush of her embarrassment. And he just continued to shake his head and smile at her. ‘I assure you, I am well trained in dealing with naughty young girls. And I really think we have had enough of your childish nonsense.’ He stood up, stepped just three short steps across the room to where the girl was still leaning against the closed door. ‘The facts of your case are quite simple, young lady. Appalling behaviour including actions which have caused suffering to other people. No excuse. A simple case of criminal activities for which you should be treated like a criminal.’ He secured a firm grip around the waistband of her knickers, screwing the elastic tight in his hand. ‘But here at the Manor, one last chance. We prefer to treat you as a disobedient child. And we have the perfect remedy for childish disobedience. Naughtiness is no great problem. I have dealt with many such… children…’ He lifted her, until she was almost raised above the bathroom carpet, her bare toes tilted downwards scrabbling to reach the floor. He was simply holding her knickers, the taut white fabric now carrying her full weight as she hung there, the narrow bands of white insinuating themselves between her bottom-cheeks. He led her back towards the bath, sat down, and deposited her face-down across his knee. ‘This is always described as the nursery position, Miss Price. Most appropriate, considering the circumstances.’

Her little knickers were disposed of. It took no time at all to denude her of them, slipping them down her long bare limbs and off over her ankles. He tossed them across to the corner of the small steam-filled room. ‘Now my lass, to get you into the exact position…’ He tapped one of her bared bottom-cheeks, quite gently, watching the flesh wobble with a pertinent resilience. He lifted her further across his knees, until her ample bottom was perched right on top of his right knee. By raising his leg he could lift her bottom even higher, her legs parting as he lifted. ‘Perfect!’ The man sounded most enthusiastic about his work. Tania felt her hands being secured in his tight grasp. In comparison with her hot sweating palms, the man’s hands felt very dry and cool and commanding. And she discovered that, no matter how she wriggled, she was unable to move. She was held, firmly across this man’s lap, with her bared bottom offered on display for his eyes and his deliberations.

She found herself wondering about the other girls who had found themselves across this man’s knees. And of their bottoms, bared no doubt, for this man’s pleasure. What was he thinking, right now, as he looked at her and followed the contours of her bottom curves with his eyes, and occasionally the palm of his hand? Was he comparing her with another girl? Was she so much sillier and childish compared with the others? Perhaps he had fancied some of the others; because they had behaved themselves. Because they had shown him what he wanted to see. Perhaps he still met some of them. Those who had pleased him. She wondered what the man really liked. She knew her bottom was well-nigh perfect. Numerous male admirers had told her as much. And her legs. Perfectly shaped. Just slim enough and slender enough to match the contours of her bottom.

Perhaps he wanted to see everything… All her girlish secrets. Just like the older man had said on the previous evening. About discovering a girl’s real hair colour… To her own horror and disgust, Tania found herself slowly opening her legs, transferring the weight of her hips very gently from one side to the other over the man’s knee. The man assisted her, slipping his fingers between her legs. ‘An interesting problem, Miss Price…’ She paused in her subtle movements and the man noticed immediately. ‘We have here a young woman who believes she can entice a man with the shape of her bottom, and by wantonly exposing herself to him.’ As if to stress his argument, he casually parted her buttocks with two fingers. ‘I’ve seen it all before, Miss Price. You’re very typical, as nineteen-year-olds go.’

He tilted her forward again, very slightly, but enough to make Tania rest her head against the cork-topped stool. But we are not dealing with a wanton young woman at present. I have before me a naughty little girl. And she is about to have her bottom smacked.’

He was as good as his promise. He smacked her bottom. Nothing very sophisticated. No caning. No strap or belt or slipper or birch or any other serious punishment. Just a straightforward smacking of a naughty child’s bared bottom. He smacked her loudly, his open palm slapping firmly across her bottom, across one cheek and then the other, establishing a kind of awful routine as the girl wobbled backwards and forwards, riding the man’s knees. She gasped and sighed as the first firm slaps fell, and then those sighs became louder and more urgent yells.

Later, as the smacking continued and Tania had lost all idea of time or the number of smacks which had fallen across her bottom, the squeaks and yells became louder and her long legs began to kick wildly against the steamy air of the bathroom. Still he continued, applying his firm hand to every round inch of her ample bottom and the soft fleshy roundness at the very top of her thighs. She shouted at him and pleaded with him to stop. She tried to pull her hands away from his grasp so she could protect her punished bottom. She threw her head from side to side, and then dropped it to rest against the comforting soft cork of the stool.

Finally he stopped, her bottom virtually alight. He made her stand up. And he told her, once again, she was a naughty little girl.

BARED ESSENTIALS

After her bath, the younger man had left. But not before another list of instructions. ‘You may remain here until the housebells ring. Then you will walk into the corridor where you will find a chair awaiting you, placed against the stair rails. You will kneel upon the chair as you were instructed yesterday. And you will await the return of the Senior Tutor.’

She had stayed in the bath, as if attempting to wash away the salty tears and the burning blush against her face. He had smacked her so hard, and she had bucked across his knee, yelling and kicking. Somehow it had all gone wrong. She had wanted to tempt him. To open her legs and tantalise him with something very feminine and inviting. But he had ignored her gestures. He had simply smacked her. And in so doing she had gone on waving her legs about and offering him revealing glimpses of essential girlishness…

And then he had removed her tee-shirt. Her last vestige of girlish modesty. Somehow her breasts embarrassed her even more than her bottom and her pubic curls. Somehow she knew she came up to all expectations when it came to considering her bottom-cheeks and the secrets which were hidden thereabouts, but her breasts? They were firm and round, and the little dark pink nipples bobbed up and down quite enticingly. But they were the breasts of a young teenager. By now they ought to be that much bigger and rounder… he had looked at them… Worse than that, he had soaped them. He had lathered his hand with the scented water and the small cake of soap, and he had lathered her, spreading the sweet-smelling soap all over her body. She had stood there, ankle-deep in the warm water, allowing him to smooth the soapy bubbles over every contour of her naked body. He had taken his time over her breasts. And to her embarrassment, her breasts had responded to the man’s gentle experienced caresses. And he had made her touch her toes as he had soaped her bottom, his searching fingers finding out her every feminine secret. But he had been gentle. After that long loud prolonged smacking across his knee, his fingers had been so gentle. He had caressed her as he had bathed her. And she had responded, relaxing, giving herself to his experienced fingers.

She was almost annoyed when he left her, because he had behaved so properly. She had half-expected, half-hoped he would have done more to her. Bent her forwards perhaps, over the bath, so that he could have his way with her… It was Tania’s idea of modern romance! Sadly, the man adhered strictly to his task.

She stepped out of the bath and wrapped the full-sized towel around her. It seemed a little pointless, somehow. After all, all the staff at this dreadful Manor seemed intent on stripping her of every vestige of modesty at every opportunity. She opened the bathroom door. The younger man had left it open. But he had walked off with the key. The landing outside seemed cold and quiet after the steamy confines of the bathroom. The chair was there. Just as he had said. A simple no-nonsense upright chair placed close to the top bannister rail. She rubbed herself dry with her towel as she walked along the landing towards the chair. The old man was coming up to deal with her. Because she had been so insolent in the bathroom. She reached the stair rail and peered over, wondering whether the Senior Tutor was already on his way. Slowly, she unwrapped the towel from her body. It was an awful feeling. The older man had yet to see her absolutely naked. And the hot water and the steam of the bathroom seemed at times to offer some protection for her modesty. But the landing was cold and bleak.

And as the towel dropped away from her she felt absolutely naked. She shivered. It was cold. And she was bare. From the curls of the hairs on her head to the softly-varnished nails of the toes of her bare feet. A naked nineteen-year-old. Waiting for the man to come and cane her… or worse.

She forced herself to discard the towel and to kneel up upon the chair, just as the younger man had instructed. She knelt, her firm round bottom protruding behind her, and her breasts dangling over the high bannister. She shivered. The corridor was high and long and echoey. Perhaps there were others who lived at the Manor and they might use the landing. And they might see her, naked, kneeling there, waiting to be punished. She knelt upright, keeping her back as straight as possible, slightly afraid of the chasm which seemed to open out below her. The chill of the air and the nervous anticipation were having their effect on her breasts. Her nipples felt so extraordinarily firm, protruding out beyond her breasts. And they felt much firmer and so sensitive… she remembered how the younger man had bathed her. And the soaping of her breasts.

She stared forward, her thigh muscles aching slightly as they supported her on top of the upright chair. And then she heard him. A door closing quietly, on the floor below. And his measured footsteps, getting louder and nearer. She saw him, and he was looking at her. Staring at her up-tilted breasts. ‘My… we are… aroused,’ he commented quietly as he approached her. And she blushed again, quite profusely, fully believing that the prickly blush was extending below her face and her neck and spreading its burning tendrils right over the softness of her breasts.

He reached the level of the landing. ‘My colleague has had cause to smack your bottom. Is that correct?’ The crimson blush of her cheeks was confirmation enough. He placed an outstretched palm across one of her protruding bottom cheeks. ‘You seem to have taken it well enough, though.’ He patted her bottom lightly. ‘A good firm bottom. Well-rounded. Well-formed… And nice firm thighs as well…’ Tania was tired of the endless descriptions of her attributes. Of the apparent enthusiasm for her bottom; and the occasional disparaging remarks about her breasts.

‘Bend forward, young lady. You know the drill by now.’ Without any effort of argument, Tania bent forward, so that her eyes were staring downwards to the floor below, and her breasts were dangling, swinging from side to side, quite obscenely. ‘Now place your hands behind your back.’ She obeyed, knowing that to argue was a fruitless and futile action. ‘My. You are a healthy girl.’ The older man was scrutinising her. Staring at her soft firm shoulders, and the long contours of her back. The dip before her slim waist, and then the exciting curving roundness of her perfect bottom. He positioned her carefully, placing his hand against her bare shoulders, leaning her forward, ensuring that her bottom was ready for punishment. ‘A strap for Miss Price,’ he whispered, as though others on the floor below or above might hear. ‘A strap to be applied to your bottom.’

The sound echoed loudly throughout the old building. A positive thwacck which bounced against the whitewashed walls and ceiling. The leather strap kissed Tania’s bottom cheeks most intimately, the three thin tails of the strap curling inwards and insinuating themselves into the very secret parts of her girlish body A very round, very firm, very resilient and exquisitely contoured female bottom felt the firm kiss of the strap, again and again. She jumped and squealed and yelled, and promised that she would be so very good. So perfectly behaved in future. And the strap continued to fall and to wrap itself around her curves.

And finally he left her. She stumbled to her feet, the protection of the bath towel forgotten. She stood, sobbing quietly into her open hands, not caring that the old man was watching her every movement, and was quietly considering the gentle flexing movements of the little trim dark triangle of hair which marked her most intimate girlish secrets. ‘Go back to your room. Get dressed. And wait for your further instructions…’

He left her, his firm footsteps disappearing into the distance. Tania retrieved her towel and wrapped it about her, hurriedly. She slipped, still sobbing, into her little room, there to collapse upon her bed for a long self-indulgent cry.