Join the Dots… Teddy Girl

From Blushes 39

Mr Lindop is a very bookish man. You could imagine him as a professor or something. With that serious expression, the half-rimmed spectacles, his balding head. Do professors have balding heads? They probably do. Most of all he almost always has his head in a book. As he does now. Even here in this hotel room. While she, Miranda, is in the cupboard. On her knees…

Not Miranda, Teddy. ‘I think I’ll call you Teddy then,’ he said. In that shop, in the lingerie department. ‘What’s that called?’ and she said, ‘It’s a teddy.’ He wouldn’t believe her but of course she was right. He bought one, pale cream, silk. It was expensive. And then he said, ‘That’s what we’ll call you then: Teddy.’

Here in the hotel room she had to put it on. The teddy and the white high heels. Everything else off. And get in the cupboard. Kneeling on the bare floor with her arms raised above her head. Why was he making her do this? To torment her? Making a girl kneel in a bare cupboard like this is not what you would think of in a professor — unless it’s one who’s a bit nutty. Nutty? Mad? She shivers. It is very painful, on your knees and your arms like this. And scary. If he is… nutty…

Sometimes he lifts his eyes from the book and gives her a little glance. Then back in his book again. ‘Keep your arms like that, high up,’ he said at the beginning. After a while — five minutes perhaps — she couldn’t keep them up anymore, they were killing her. ‘I’ve got to move,’ she said, or rather it was a squealy gasp.

Mr Lindop looked up, seeming not too bothered. ‘All right. Only we’ll have to have something for that. You can take them down and I’ll time you. For every 10 seconds two strokes of the tawse across your bottom. So unless you like that Teddy, you’d better do your best.’

His head went back into the book. She thought about it. Did he mean it? Very likely. He has tawsed her already. Really hard. With that dreadful stiff leather tawse. Making hot tears come to her eyes. Not looking up from his book he said, ‘Tell me if you want to drop them. So I can time it. All right, Teddy?’

----//----

How long has she been in here? It seems like ages. She has had to have three rests of her arms. Ten seconds, then 20 and 20. The first time he said, ‘One second over 10 counts as 20.’

Miranda’s — Teddy’s — arms are really killing her now. Her arms are screaming out for a long rest, a complete break. But if every 10 seconds it’s another two with that tawse…

‘Please let me stop,’ she blurts out. ‘Please, Mr Lindop. I’m dying!’ She shakes her head in desperation. ‘My arms are killing me. And my knees.’

Mr Lindop looks up. Purses his mouth. Then puts his book down. He is getting to his feet. ‘Come out then. What’ve we got: 50 seconds? That’s ten good whacks. Right?’

He has put the tawse in the chest of drawers and is going to get it. Jesus Christ. Miranda — Teddy — is trying to get her aching body back to some sort of normality, cautiously moving her legs, working her shoulders. But her thoughts are on that tawse. That knife-like pain, on top of this awful ache that seems to have spread to her whole body. Jesus Christ. ‘Please… I don’t want it,’ she groans.

Mr Lindop says mildly, ‘I’m going to have to give you some extra ones. For stopping early. Interrupting my train of thought, Teddy. Now, take that thing off. That teddy.’

Extra ones! She feels like weeping. The tawse looms like a giant monster in her head. ‘I don’t want it,’ she wails. ‘I hate that thing. Anything else.’

Mr Lindop smiles. ‘Anything else, Teddy? Anything?’ He pokes a finger in her stomach, though not hard. ‘We must remember that. For future reference. But right now, Teddy…’ Another poke and his voice is firmer, ‘Take it off.’

Shivering she slips the straps off her shoulders and slides it down. Off over the white high heels. She is nude. Mr Lindop tells her to lie over the side of the bed. Stretching her legs out. And spread them wide…

She clutches handfuls of the bedspread. Pushes her face into it. As if she can in some way escape, hide in the bedclothes from the dreadful hard leather tawse. But if her face is hidden the rest of her is not. Her soft and rather ripe bottom. A perfect target for the tawse. Offered unwillingly up, quivering slightly. In anticipation…

The pain explodes in the darkness. A red flash in front of her eyes. Then her whole body… humming…

Mr Lindop’s voice from a long way away, as she struggles with this impossible pain. ‘Keep still, Teddy. Really…’

The stiff leather strap cracks down again… And then again… It keeps on. How many? An impossible number.

Afterwards he pulls her to her feet. Her face is red and wet. Her bottom… feels like raw meat. Mr Lindop puts his arm round her. ‘All right, Teddy? That wasn’t too bad, was it? Now we’ll do a bit more in the cupboard. Back you go and let’s see if this time I can get through a whole chapter without interruption. This time we’ll say two strokes for every five seconds resting your arms. Is that all right?’

It is not all right, it is diabolical, impossible. But Teddy is back in there. She now has a very short top on so that most of her is bare. She is kneeling again on her sore knees with her arms stretched high and her shoulders almost at once crying out for relief. Two cracks with that strap for every five seconds rest. And her bottom already throbbing from what she’s just had. She shakes her head. What is Mr Lindop trying to do, drive her mad? Like he is perhaps. A wailing groan. Her shoulders are already demanding that she lower her arms.

A louder, more frantic groan. Whimpering. ‘Mr Lindop I can’t…’

Mr Lindop’s eyes come up from his book. An expression of undoubted annoyance. ‘Teddy, if you’re going to be bothersome… I can think of something you’ll enjoy a whole lot less than the tawse. Maybe we should try it? Right now…’

Afterwards an even more dejected and humiliated Teddy is put back in the cupboard, naked, as Mr Lindop settles to try another chapter…