Caning Training for Paula 1 — The Prospect of the Cane

First part of two, from New Blushes 2.04

Paula, in bed, told herself she wasn’t going to do it. Start stroking herself, that was. Her fingers between her legs, at her pussy. So she knew she would. She might be able to resist it for a little bit but then she would do it. She wouldn’t be able to stop herself.

Not that it was such an awful thing really and other girls her age, 17, did it she knew. It was just that she thought she shouldn’t do it so much, and it would be nice to be able to say no to herself sometimes, she wasn’t going to, and she wouldn’t. Self control in other words. She had thought that once she started seeing Andrew regularly she wouldn’t want to do it, or not so much. But she did. Lying in bed thinking about him, thinking about what they did — and then she would really want to do it. Really need to. Bring herself off.

But tonight it wasn’t really the thought of Andrew making her want it, it was the other thing. Because the other thing that made you feel you needed to do it was anxiety. Worrying about something. And that was the reason now. Thinking about this other business. This Mr Vashwell. And that thing her mother had said this evening, for the first time:

‘By the way, Paula, Mr Vashwell did mention discipline. He said he assumed it would be alright to discipline you. If it was necessary.’

There had been no mention of discipline before. The word had sort of buzzed in Paula’s head. What exactly did it mean?

At first her mother had tried to say she didn’t know what Mr Vashwell might mean. But then when Paula kept on it seemed her mother did after all have a pretty good idea. Mr Vashwell had been specific enough. It seemed he had mentioned the cane. The cane!

‘But I shouldn’t worry about it, dear. I don’t suppose for one moment he will want to. I mean he only said if necessary. And there’s no reason why it should be necessary is there?’

No? But Paula was worrying. Well you would, wouldn’t you? If someone you were going to have to go and stay with started talking about the cane. This man. This Mr Vashwell, who she hadn’t met yet of course. Yes, you would. And so Paula did now have her hand in between her legs. With her night-dress rucked up round her waist. Her fingers at her wet pussy. And in her head a mixed tumble of thoughts. Including Andrew of course. Smooching with Andrew, with Andrew’s hand in between her legs. But also this Mr Vashwell, who was about 60, she did know that. This Mr Vashwell with a cane. Caning her…

Paula’s fingers were working feverishly now. Her hips and thighs writhing, but surreptitiously so as not to make the bed creak, because she had a dread of her parents hearing the bed squeak when she was doing it and then guessing what it was. But she was wriggling and writhing, her cunt really hot and wet. Because she really didn’t want to have to go and stay with this Mr Vashwell. Even without any thought of the cane.

----//----

The main reason Paula was going to stay with Mr Vashwell for the first part of the summer holidays was Andrew. Marion Goddard was concerned that her daughter had begun seeing rather too much of this boy. As a mother naturally is concerned when her 17-year-old daughter begins showing a lot of interest in a member of the opposite sex — and by implication sex itself. Well you can never be sure what they’re doing when they’re alone, can you. And even though the person, this Andrew Mastone, may seem a nice enough boy, you know that at that age he is basically thinking of only one thing. His thoughts are ruled by that bothersome thing between his legs. Which whenever he is with darling Paula is going to be stiff and desperate to go into just one place. Well, Marion Goddard is an attractive woman who has been Paula’s age and knows what young males are all about.

Anyway her friend Susan Wetherby happened to mention this very helpful gentleman Mr Vashwell. Adrian Vashwell who was a retired senior civil servant. Not really old, he was just 60, and it seemed he was prepared to take in a girl for a few weeks if you were in need of a break or something. Susan Wetherby had a friend whose daughter had stayed with him while she and her husband went on holiday. He had a lovely place quite near Bournemouth.

Mr Vashwell it seemed was a real gentleman and Susan said was quite ‘reliable’ with girls. So he wasn’t going to cause those very problems that an anxious mother was so keen to avoid. Susan thought he was quite keen on discipline. And that of course was something Mr Vashwell did mention when Marion met him. The matter of discipline. He proved indeed to be a cultured and pleasant-seeming man. But he did make the point of mentioning discipline. He said it was something which tended to be lacking in girl’s education these days, and that was in good part why mothers had these little problems with teenage daughters.

Yes he had mentioned it. In fact Marion had rather got the impression suave and charming Mr Vashwell might well want to do it. Use the cane on Paula that was. Even though what he said was ‘Only if necessary naturally.’ But she had rather got the impression that Mr Vashwell might find it necessary. Actually Marion wasn’t too bothered about that. Maybe a caning was what Paula needed. She had become rather independently-minded lately. This Andrew was only one aspect of that. A quick caning would give her something to think about, and of course Paula’s father would never remotely consider doing it.

Yes. A caning. Marion Goddard was not averse to the idea at all. And in fact after that meeting with Mr Vashwell, and having considered the matter, she phoned him. For a further chat. Mr Vashwell seemed very pleased to get her call. But then he would, wouldn’t he?

Naturally Marion told Paula it wouldn’t happen. Or was very unlikely to. But she did just plant the idea in her head. That if she misbehaved it was a possibility.

----//----

Adrian Vashwell was extremely pleased to get Marion Goddard’s phone call two days after their little rendezvous in a London restaurant. At their meeting, as he always did, he had mentioned the matter of discipline. Naturally because it was his main interest in having a teenage girl to stay, looking after her for whatever might be her mother’s reason. Disciplining a good-looking 17-year-old was one of Adrian Vashwell’s main pleasures in life and he had taken early retirement to give himself leisure time to pursue that little hobby. So quite naturally he mentioned it to prospective clients. To give a lady the opportunity to voice any strong objections she might have — in which case of course there was no point in wasting any more of his time.

There weren’t usually any strong objections, usually it was a rather coy acceptance. A lady evidently not wishing to think about the matter in detail. But sometimes there was more response, as now with this phone call from the charming and most attractive Marion Goddard. To make the specific point that she was quite happy with disciplinary measures. Daughter Paula, it seemed, was getting just a little bit out of hand. The usual thing, boys, or a boy apparently at least part of the problem. Mrs Goddard even went so far as to specifically mention the cane. In her opinion it would do Paula no harm at all.

Well naturally this was most encouraging to Adrian Vashwell. He felt a frisson of excitement. With such a clear green light he would have no qualms about starting right away.

The cane the first night perhaps after she arrived? It was always a good idea to start right away if you could, while the pretty young miss was feeling nervous and unsure of herself.

----//----

Paula Goddard was a pretty young thing, Adrian noted approvingly when he met her off the train. As one might expect having met her most attractive mother. Shortish chestnut brown hair and full ripe mouth. And a nice shape too? Yes, once he had driven her to his place and she removed the light summer coat she had worn for her journey, Paula’s blouse and skirt gave evidence of quite womanly roundnesses.

He smiled with pleasure. The pretty girl hadn’t said much in the car. Nervous no doubt, possibly even a little scared. As he conducted her through into the drawing room his hand absent-mindedly slid down to her bottom in the swinging blue skirt. He felt an apprehensive twitch, but kept his hand there. Sliding lightly over the roundnesses. Oh yes, she was nervous all right. Girls usually were: suddenly finding themselves alone in a strange house, with a strange man.

In the drawing room, turning to face her, he murmured some little words of reassurance. Her big brown eyes were definitely apprehensive. And with reason of course. If she didn’t fancy the cane — and usually girls didn’t.

He told her that a little later, when she had freshened up, he would show her round the house and garden, and introduce her to his housekeeper, Mrs Stannings, who was around somewhere. But before. that…

Not the cane right away of course. Paula’s first taste of discipline would in any case be, as was usually his practice, a spanking on her bare bottom. But first of all something else. A nice relaxing bath, which pretty Paula would no doubt greatly appreciate after a hot and tiring journey. Yes — but would she also appreciate her host coming in when she was still in the altogether? To assist in the ablutionary operations.

Probably not was the answer. Well, certainly not in fact. But that of course was all the more reason why it was an excellent move. Unsettling, yes. But a new girl needed to be unsettled. As she needed to have it made quite clear who was in charge here. Her host Adrian Vashwell Esquire, that was who. Completely in charge and free to do what he wanted. Certainly free to come in to her in the bathroom and handle her. Handle her nude body…

Paula was about to find this out. She nervously agreed that a bath would be a nice idea. She had of course felt Mr Vashwell’s hand on her bottom. Had tried to slip away from it but the hand had remained in close contact as they walked through into the drawing room. It had desisted now but it had naturally left her feeling edgy. And there was the thought in her head of that other, considerably worse than having a hand fondling your bottom. The cane! Mr Vashwell wasn’t actually going to cane her, was he? Anyway the thought of a bath was nice. And the mention of a housekeeper, Mrs Stannings, around somewhere, that was a bit comforting. But half an hour or so in the bath, to settle herself, behind a reassuringly locked bathroom door, was a very attractive idea.

In the bathroom, though, Paula found there was no lock on the door. That was rather a nasty shock. She thought for a moment of not having a bath after all, but that was clearly not sensible. After all she couldn’t stay here with Mr Vashwell for two weeks without taking a bath. So with her heart admittedly thumping a little she ran the water and proceeded to undress. Telling herself not to be silly, of course that door wasn’t going to suddenly open…

But it did suddenly open. A little bit later when she had had her bath and got out, not staying in too long because she was nervous. She had just about got herself dry… and the door opened.

It was Mr Vashwell. Not the as yet unseen Mrs Stannings. Mr Vashwell smiling, and carefully closing the door behind him.

‘I thought I’d just check you were alright, my dear.’

Clutching the towel round her nude body, Paula stammered that everything was fine. Except of course her host’s sudden and unwelcome appearance! But Mr Vashwell was firmly pulling the towel away from her!!

‘Don’t be shy, dear. Let me have a look at you. At this lovely body…’

Paula was a lovely girl. Just maturing into womanhood with, as he got the towel away from her top half, full and firm pink-nippled tits, the latter semi-stiff. And, pulling the towel completely away now, down below were ripely rounded hips with at their centre a quite mature and thick black bush. Yes truly mouth-watering.

But Adrian Vashwell had already seen all of this. Because he had had installed in the bathroom a two-way mirror. The bathroom Paula was in was adjacent to Adrian’s study and he had only to slide aside a section of the wall panelling to avail himself of a full view of the bathroom and its nubile young occupant. He had been viewing all the proceedings ever since Paula’s first hesitant removal of her skirt. He had viewed her nude body from all its charming angles. Lovely! And he had also viewed with interest something else besides. Paula playing with herself.

Yes, because assuming she was alone and unobserved, and even though the door wasn’t locked, in her nervous state Paula unfortunately couldn’t resist it. Her hand sliding down between her nude thighs. She had done it briefly before she got into the bath, and then a somewhat more extended session when she was in the soothingly warm water, albeit with anxious glances at the door. And then again when drying herself. Her hand, quite clearly to her avidly watching host, going down to her cunt. A finger sliding in between the outer lips no doubt for a most pleasurable rub at her clitoris.

Adrian had been most gratified indeed to discover his new guest indulging in masturbation, with every indication that this was a practice she was quite addicted to. The sight was arousing, causing him to stroke the big bulge which quickly developed in the front of his trousers. But it was more than merely that. Knowledge, as we all know, is power, and he would be able to put this new knowledge to excellent use. He was well aware that 17-year-old girls frequently did do quite a bit of masturbating, but almost always with the thought that they shouldn’t. It was a forbidden act, an unmentionable activity. Everyone would be shocked to know she did it. Wasn’t that the main thought in a girl’s head, when she started the practice, and once started found it very difficult to stop? Yes. And if someone did know…

Now with the towel pulled completely away, Adrian took hold of Paula’s pert tits. She shuddered, giving a shocked exclamation as he fingered her semi-erect rose-hued nipples. He couldn’t do this! Face red, she tried to struggle away.

‘No need to be shy, my dear,’ Adrian told her calmly. ‘Stand still. I know you’re not a shy girl really. And I only want to feel them. And this…’

‘No!’ she squealed. For one of Mr Vashwell’s hands had slid down to her pussy. To cup that bushy mound.

‘Come on,’ he said more firmly. ‘You like having it played with. Your boyfriend probably. I expect you let him play with your pussy. And I know you play with it yourself. I can always tell when a girl does.’

‘No!’ Paula squealed again. To what he was doing and what he was saying too. She was squirming and wriggling but Mr Vashwell had his hand firmly in between her legs. He had her pushed up against the wall now. With his fingers at the sticky wet lips of her cunt.

‘Yes. Look at me!’ Mr Vashwell’s face was close in, his eyes searching. ‘I can always tell when a girl likes to do it. I can see you like to do it a lot. Probably you’ve been doing right now. While you were having your bath.’

‘No!’ Paula squealed again. ‘Pl… please…’ It couldn’t be true, could it? Mr Vashwell couldn’t know!

‘Yes my dear. I am afraid so. And I think as a consequence we shall need to have a little something. A little taste of the cane. Because I’m quite sure it is an activity your mother would not approve of. If you like we can phone her to confirm. Or would you rather we simply proceeded with the caning?’

----//----

In Mr Vashwell’s study now. Where although Paula doesn’t know it, there is that concealed panel allowing discreet but full observation of the adjacent bathroom. That of course is the reason Paula is here now, standing apprehensively by Mr Vashwell’s table. She is here to be caned, and that frightful thought is filling her head.

She is wearing a pale yellow knitted top, sleeveless and tight to her firmly jutting tits. Paula has no bra on, those pretty tits, which so recently Mr Vashwell shockingly had his hands on, are bare under the tight top. With the top are very tight and brief white shorts which leave the whole length of her slim thighs bare. Her outfit is completed with smart black medium high-heeled shoes and white ankle socks.

These items of clothing have been found for Paula by her host. She has brought clothes with her for her stay of course, but Mr Vashwell on inspecting the contents of Paula’s suitcase decided that for her first caning session he preferred these with the shorts especially (well she is also not happy about not having a bra on and the shorts are so tight as to be quite uncomfortable). She has a very brief pair of white knickers underneath, their hems clearly delineated under the skin-tight shorts. The unpleasant tightness of the shorts is perhaps naturally closely entwined in her mind with the thought of the cane…

Paula has been told to come here directly she has changed up in the little room which is to be hers during her stay here. The room seemed pleasant enough, looking out over the big garden, but there has been no time to think about that or of the coming two weeks she is to spend here. Right now the only thought in Paula’s head is the next half hour and what it is going to bring. Because it is going to bring a fearful caning!

She has knocked tentatively at the door and been told to come in. Mr Vashwell was standing at his desk glancing at some papers. He looked up and said he would deal with her in a moment. He indicated the table next to his desk. ‘Stand there please.’

He glances up again now. ‘Shan’t be a moment now. Bend over please. And fold your hands behind your back, Paula.’

And now he has put those papers down. He is moving in close behind her as she bends face-down over the table. His hands briefly touch her own hands which are folded tremblingly behind her back. The hand skims down over the ripe thrust of her bottom in the skin-tight shorts.

‘Well my dear, are you ready for it? The cane across this pretty seat?’

Paula is struck dumb with fear. The hand smacks the seat of the shorts. Mr Vashwell is going back to his desk. Sitting down this time.

‘Just one moment, while I check this. But stand up now. And you can take your shorts down. And your knickers. I’ll only be a moment.’

She gasps. Stutters some desperate sounds. Paula has imagined, when she could bear to think about it all, that probably she would be caned in these awful tight shorts, that is why she has been told to put them on. But having her shorts and knickers off, or down at least, is clearly ten times worse.

He glances across. ‘Get on, young lady. Get those things down. Or shall I do it? The shorts right down to your ankles. The knickers for the moment just down off your bottom. Then stand facing the table.’

Somehow she numbly makes herself do it. Trying not to think. Mr Vashwell, finally finished with his papers, is getting up now. Coming close again.

‘Good girl.’ His hand caressing her now bare bottom. ‘Wasn’t so difficult, was it?’ The hand smacks bare flesh, ‘Bend over the table again, I think we’re ready now, don’t you?’

Her face again in contact with the polished table top. Mr Vashwell’s hand is at once at her bare bottom. Squeezing and fondling That soft firm voice tells her to part her legs. And when she does his hand goes in there. Underneath the ripe swell of her bared bottom-cheeks. To Paula’s cunt.

She gasps and shudders as his fingers part the sensitive lips.

‘The problem with playing with yourself too much, Paula,’ Mr Vashwell pronounces avuncularly, ‘is that a girl can get addicted to it. That isn’t a good thing. So we have to have something to make us stop and think.’

As he speaks Mr Vashwell is doing just that. Playing with Paula’s pussy. Masturbating her in fact. It is really dreadful having him do this. His strong masculine fingers right in there, at her clitoris and sliding up in her cunt. But at the same time it is stimulatory. Paula can’t help responding, with little groans and writhings of her hips and thighs.

Mr Vashwell continues doing it, until he has got her quite hot. Then he abruptly stops.

Now he is going to cane her!

She lies there, breathing rapidly. Her cunt is hot and randy. She was close to coming. But instead of that…

THWATT…!!

The hot kiss of the cane! She yells out, her stricken bottom violently jerking. Her hands come frantically apart. Mr Vashwell barks to her to get back in position. ‘Get those hands together!’ His own hands come there, to grip her wrists. And then that cane again!

THWATT…!!

Her breath bursts out in another frantic yell. The pain is impossible, made worse of course by the aroused state Mr Vashwell has got her in.

THWATT…!!

Another shuddery yell. Her bottom is rolling and writhing but Mr Vashwell has a firm grip of her wrists, keeping her in position over the table.

One more desperate cut of the cane. Then Mr Vashwell lets go of Paula’s wrists and tells her she can stand.

She is not sure if she can, if her legs will bear her weight. Her whole body feels desperately fragile. And there is that hot, frantic pain in her poor bottom. But perhaps at least the caning is now over…

Mr Vashwell turns her, smiling. ‘How was that, my dear? Warmed your bottom up a bit?’

There are tears in Paula’s eyes. She blinks frantically. Her bottom is killing her. But the caning has at least finished…

Mr Vashwell reaches round behind her to fondle Paula’s throbbing bottom.

‘That was the first part of your session. I haven’t finished yet of course. But I’m going to give the rest of your caning up on the table. I want you up on the table lying on your back. With your legs up in the air…’

It takes a few moments for the desperate fact of what he is saying to sink into Paula’s reeling head. But when it does…

She shakes her head with disbelief. Pleading words stumble from her trembling mouth.

Mr Vashwell puts an avuncular hand round her shoulders. ‘It’s for your own good my dear. It is intended to be something you won’t like…’

Paula tries to refuse to get up on the table but Mr Vashwell is not giving her any choice. To make this clear he takes a firm hold of her arms and whips the cane in again across her already stricken nates.

‘I must have obedience from a girl, Paula. That is the first lesson you have to learn here.’ The cane whips in again. ‘Now come on…’

So Paula has no choice but to comply. With Mr Vashwell’s assistance she climbs up on the table. In the process he pulls her shorts fully down and off over her shoes, leaving Paula in just the lowered knickers. He pushes her down on her back and makes her lift her legs. So that there is an upside-down view of her bare bottom with those bright red cane marks on it.

But it is not just Paula’s bare bottom which is on view in this awful position. There is also of course her cunt. There is the whole of her cunt, as Paula is sickeningly aware. Her trembling hand comes across to try to cover it, but Mr Vashwell firmly pushes her hand away.

Embarrassment, and a certain degree of humiliation, are all part of the treatment. A girl doesn’t enjoy being forced to show her cunt in this blatantly exposed position — and therefore she is made to do so.

Adrian Vashwell pushed her legs further over, up above Paula’s head. Then his hand strokes what Paula so desperately doesn’t want to show. His fingers slide inside the moist lips.

‘Don’t like showing it, my dear.’

Paula doesn’t answer. There is no answer, anyway she is dumb with mortification. Mr Vashwell doesn’t need answer.

‘But you like playing with it, eh? Every night? Naughty girl. And that is why we have to be caned, isn’t it?’

He continues playing with her. Getting her aroused whether she likes it or not. And of course she doesn’t like it, she hates it. But she can’t help getting excited. Which is what Adrian wants. And then he stops. And reaches for the cane.

To be continued…