Disciplined Daughter

Photo-story from Blushes 86 featuring Belinda Laine

‘Look,’ the girl says. ‘You can’t. I mean… you just can’t…’

She shakes her head sending her long blonde tresses swinging. She is a very nice-looking 17 in a school skirt and blouse. They are up in her bedroom, this girl called Helen and the man who is a neighbour or at least an acquaintance of her parents. Or of her mother more accurately. And her parents are not here, that is a rather crucial fact. They have gone off on holiday and this man called Mr Hayling has been asked to look in. To see that Helen is doing her school work and perhaps even more importantly is not spending excessive amounts of time with her boyfriend.

‘I mean… he was only here for ten minutes…’ she adds haltingly.

Mr Hayling is intimidatingly large to slim but shapely Helen. Even though he is now sitting down, in her wicker chair. He gives a grunt of disbelief.

‘I just don’t believe that. Now come on. Get that skirt off. And then get your knickers down, and come here. Or I’ll take everything off you myself. And don’t mention your mother. You know we discussed it and she is in full agreement.’

The awful thing is that that is true. Or at least Helen’s mother said something like that. But Helen never believed she really meant it. That Mr Hayling would really… Really do this… Spank her bare bottom…

----//----

Vivien and Nick Fernley had booked what promised to be a super holiday in late spring, a week in Venice. The only problem was Helen, their 17-year-old daughter. Helen had important exams coming up shortly so couldn’t afford to take a week off school, which meant leaving her behind. Vivien especially was not happy about that. Helen was a lovely-looking blonde — with of course a boyfriend. It wasn’t that Vivien exactly disapproved of Greg, or didn’t trust Helen. But she could just imagine… well all sorts of hair-raising things. Starting with Helen doing no work at all, and up to and including Helen getting pregnant.

Nick typically wasn’t that concerned. He was sure Helen could look after herself — and that naturally was Helen’s own opinion when the subject was raised. ‘Oh mother really…’ (Not of course that Vivien spelled out any specific fears such as Helen getting pregnant.) But Helen had an ally in her father, and so Vivien was going to have to do something herself. What she had in mind was getting someone to look in. Preferably a man, who would be able to deal briskly with Greg should that be necessary.

And Vivien had a certain person firmly in mind, because it could be a way of killing two birds with one stone. Nick’s recent promotion had meant they had been able to afford to join the local golf club, something Vivien had long coveted. Now they were in she was keen to get on friendly terms with some of the influential members. Some of these were in fact snooty old-school-tie types whom Vivien wasn’t so keen to get to know anyway, but there were one or two others. One in particular was Ronald Hayling.

Ron Hayling, Vivien sensed, was definitely more approachable. She had the feeling that he might even have eyed her once or twice. Ron and Nancy Hayling were a bit older than Vivien and Nick, late forties probably. They lived in one of those large houses two roads away which Vivien also rather envied. If Nick managed to get another promotion then they might be able to move to one of those houses, but that was a pipe dream for the moment. But Vivien would very much like to get to know the Haylings — and Mr Hayling in particular. He was a big, heavily-built man — so he could certainly read the riot act to Greg if it came to that. And Helen too of course. Yes Ron Hayling would be an excellent person to keep an eye on Helen. And it wasn’t an unreasonable request, being asked to keep an eye on a pretty 17-year-old for a week. Some men might jump at the chance — though probably not those snooty old-school-tie characters.

So when Vivien chanced to see Ron at the golf club she mentioned it, batting her long and mascara-ed eyelashes in a becoming manner. Ron Hayling’s eyes widened. He knew who was being talked about because he had seen Helen Fernley once or twice. She was quite something: a very pretty girl with long blonde hair and a slim but shapely figure. Vivien Fernley was very attractive too of course, more mature but like a good wine none the worse for that. Yes, he had eyed her once or twice. Telling himself that the ripe-bodied Mrs Fernley was probably a very good fuck.

And young Helen? Yes, he could certainly fancy her too. It would be no trouble at all looking in on her in her parents’ absence. And maybe if necessary dealing out a spot of discipline.

Ron didn’t mention the matter of discipline at this point but said he would be very pleased to help. Why didn’t they get together to discuss it? Could Vivien perhaps drop round to the Haylings house. Tomorrow afternoon? Though of course if she wanted to bring Nick into the discussion maybe the evening would be better?

With a charming smile Vivien said the afternoon would be fine. No, she didn’t want to bring husband Nick into the discussions. She said she knew he would be content to leave the matter to her. Yes tomorrow afternoon would be extremely convenient.

----//----

Vivien was quite excited at the prospect. More than a little! Her heart was all jumpy. It was silly, but she almost felt like a schoolgirl herself again. Those heady times when she had gone on a date wondering if this time she was going to be screwed. That feeling, at 16 or 17, when she hadn’t yet been screwed but was ready for it, her pussy getting wet at the slightest provocation. Ready for it but at the same scared too. Really wanting the desperate excitement of having one of those big things up inside her for the first time — but scared of it. Scared for one thing of the possibility of it making her pregnant.

(It was the same feeling that she was afraid of with Helen of course. That Helen’s pussy, now at 17, was getting so easily wet. And it would take Greg no trouble at all to get into it — if he hadn’t already!)

For herself to have that same feeling, at 37, was silly. But Vivien undoubtedly did. That night in bed with Nick she was very eager. Hot. Eager to be fucked, and fucked again. So that when Nick had finished fucking her, and gone to sleep, she needed more and had to do it with her hand. Her practiced fingers. She hadn’t told Nick about the visit to Ron’s place tomorrow.

She was even worse the next day. Vivien told herself to calm down. Quite possibly Nancy would be there as well as Ron. Though Vivien didn’t really think she would. Otherwise… she would guess Ron would have suggested some other rendezvous. Vivien wondered whether she might possibly leave her knickers off. But then decided no. She wouldn’t want Ron to get the idea she was promiscuous — and going there without them could well give that impression. She shouldn’t of course even have thought of leaving her knickers off because the thought was bound to get her more excited. And anyway there was no reason to think things would progress to the point when Ron would discover whether she had any on or not. Was there?

----//----

Fortunately Vivien was practised in the art of appearing calm and poised even when inwardly she wasn’t. When her knickers, in between her legs, might be just a little bit wet, like an eager young teenager. Yes poised and smiling, sitting now with Ron Hayling in this pleasant lounge. With naturally, as she had known would be the case, Nancy absent (she had had to go out Ron said).

Vivien with a glass of white wine before her (was that a good idea?) And the subject, naturally, Helen.

‘Does she get any… ah… discipline?’ her host inquired, sitting close in another deep armchair. He really was very big. Powerful looking. Vivien with difficulty kept her thoughts on track. The subject of discipline.

It seemed Ron meant of the physical kind. Any smacking? From Nick, or herself. She shook her head. No, not really? So there would certainly not have been anything like the cane?

Vivien laughed, a little nervously. Naturally not. But it used to be quite common, Ron observed. The idea that a touch of the cane to a 16 or 17-year-old girl’s bottom was highly effective in keeping her under control. And certainly a very sound smacking of her bottom from time to time. On the young lady’s bare bottom, that was definitely the most effective.

Leaning closer, Ron asked if Vivien herself had ever had anything of that sort when she was younger.

Vivien felt herself flushing, poised and experienced matron though she was. At Ron Hayling’s somewhat disturbing words. And also the fact that his hand had gone out onto her knee.

She shook her head. ‘No… No… nothing… Well only when I was… very small. Maybe a little slap, but nothing like what you mean.’

‘I do think it would be good for Helen,’ he said softly. ‘Possibly just what she needs.’

‘Ye… es.’ The hand was still squeezing Vivien’s knee, more insistently now. Was that what Ron wanted? To spank Helen’s bottom. When Vivien had been thinking, that he might fancy her.

The hand slid further up. ‘Good. But it might be a good idea, Vivien…’ the voice was soft but firmly masculine, ‘if I first of all did it to you. I mean a mother should know what it’s all about. And you say you’ve never had it.’

‘Oh…! Oh really…’ Well what else was there to say? Because as he delivered these pussy-tingling words the hand had slid in under Vivien’s skirt. In between her soft thighs. They were not tightly closed and this solidly intrusive male hand simply went in there. Sliding up the insides of Vivien’s thighs. To the tops of her stockings. (Yes she was wearing stockings, not tights.) Continuing up beyond to the warm bare flesh.

Vivien gave another yelp. Quickly moving her own hand to try to arrest the invader. Well, it was quite clear where it was headed. Straight for her pussy! Which, as she was acutely aware, was at this moment undeniably wet. Wet and eager to be fucked, that would be the clear message. And really it would be highly embarrassing to have that message so unequivocally conveyed, when as yet she hardly knew Mr Hayling.

So she grasped the hand, and was able to bar its progress. But this was only because Ron had desisted. He wasn’t persisting, not with that line of attack at least. No instead he was pulling her up, and then down across his lap. Face down. Yes that other thing. He was going to spank her bottom! Right now! Vivien yelped, as she felt her full skirt yanked up. And then her sexy pale-blue French knickers being pulled down. Her ripe bottom was bare, with that large male hand sliding greedily over it. And then…

The shocking hand was in between her legs! At her embarrassingly wet pussy! The large male fingers thrusting in. Vivien gave out a shuddering squawk. Hips and bottom rolling writhing. She was going to come! Embarrassing as it might be but she couldn’t help it. Right away!

And she almost did. But right on the point of it the hand was abruptly withdrawn. And instead was slamming hard down. Onto the ripe cheeks of her nude rear. Vivien’s orgasmic moans became shocked yelps.

----//----

‘No!’ Helen desperately shaking her head. ‘Look, I… I won’t see him again all week if that’s what you want. But you can’t…’

But Ron can of course. He has got Vivien’s agreement. Before she and Nick want off yesterday he had got her to the state when she would agree virtually to anything. Round at his place for a couple of hours in the morning when Vivien should really have been doing her packing, but she just couldn’t say no to one more session. This time with the cane. That cane which Ron had bought at the weekend, a special trip into London where you can get such items. Especially for Vivien’s ripe bottom.

For Vivien’s ripe bottom — and for Helen’s too. The daughter’s slimmer teenage version, pert and shapely, and as far as Ron is concerned eminently in need of the cane. Yes he is going to cane it, though maybe not today. Today is just the first day with Helen and he has got all week. Today it may be just his hand, for starters. But he can use the cane.

He said to Vivien yesterday, ‘I think I may give it to her. The cane I mean, not just a mere spanking. The cane is so much more effective. Well, you know that Vivien dear.’

Yes Vivien did know it. And how! Her bottom then bearing six bright red stripes after being bent over the arm of one of the lounge armchairs. She had just widened her eyes when Ron said this, and emitted another of those breathless whimpers. Because Ron hadn’t only caned her of course, right afterwards he had fucked her as well. A fucking such as Vivien thought she had never had before. Rendering her speechless, zoned out of her mind.

‘Come on,’ Ron says to Helen. ‘I don’t want to mess about, young lady. Or do you want to be caned, rather than just spanked?’

Helen gives a shocked whimper. Caned! He can’t mean that! But what if he does? What can she do? This awful Mr Hayling has got a house key and he can come in here whenever he wants. She could bolt the door? No… he is just too big and frightening to think of trying to thwart him.

Helen whimpers. ‘This is just awful…’ But she is doing it. Unfastening her wrap-around skirt. Slipping it off. At least she has knickers on underneath, though it is extremely embarrassing to have to show them to Mr Hayling. Because they are very brief, sexy ones. But at least she has some on. Half an hour earlier, when Greg was here, Vivien didn’t, but fortunately she slipped them back on again. It would be very embarrassing if she had none on. Even worse than it is.

‘Hmm. Very sexy,’ her unwanted visitor observes. ‘Very provocative! Does your mother allow things like that?’

Helen says a red-faced yes.

‘Then I think I must have a word with her. Those amount to nothing at all. You might as well wear nothing. Mmm? Is that what you’d like Helen? Maybe I should make you go to school tomorrow without any. And maybe phone the headmaster and tell him. Ask him to put a note up on the notice board for everyone to see: Helen Fernley isn’t wearing any knickers today.’

The hot-faced blonde has no answer. For all she knows he may be serious. Well, if he can spank her bare bottom. And cane her?

Helen is told to take her blouse off. She has a lightweight vest underneath but unfortunately for her no bra. Sometimes she doesn’t wear one, with those pert, firm boobs, not all floppy like some girls she knows. And wearing no bra turns Greg on. But of course it is obvious she is not wearing one. Her nipples are firm cones sticking out under the vest, which Ron Hayling’s keen eyes can’t miss. It is something else for him to start on about.

‘A girl who wears knickers like that and no bra is asking for trouble in my opinion. What she needs is a good caning.’

But right now what is coming Helen’s way is a salutary spanking. Ron reaches to grab her arm and yanks her forward. Helen stumbles across his lap and as she does he grabs the tiny knickers and yanks them down. Helen’s luxuriant blonde locks tumble about her face. The room is dipping and swaying. Her hands reaching for support find the carpet. A squawking yelp as Mr Hayling grabs her bare bottom. Some unpleasant groping ensues. Intimate fondling. And then the hand is cracking murderously down. His meaty pile-driver hand delivering measured slammings. Desperate gasping yelps. As each delivery knocks the breath right out of her.

What would the frantic girl think if told her mother has also had this from Mr Hayling? Four sessions in the past two weeks. The last three with the cane as well. And on each of the four occasions Helen’s mother given a vigorous fucking afterwards. No doubt Helen would find all that impossible to believe. And anyway while her own devastating spanking is continuing the whole of Helen’s consciousness is concentrated on the pillaging being wreaked on her own poor bottom.

At last Mr Hayling does stop. Maybe his arm is finally tiring. But when it ceases the hand immediately goes in between Helen’s legs. Grabbing her he asks, his voice a little breathy from his efforts, ‘Now then, young lady, let me hear about that Greg. Exactly what the two of you get up to.’

----//----

And Ron Hayling does do that other thing. That awful thing he suggested. It wasn’t a joke. Before he leaves he says that tomorrow she is to go to school wearing no knickers. And he is going to call the Head so he will know.

Helen can’t do that. She won’t. But thinking again about yesterday evening with Mr Hayling (and how can she ever forget it!) she decides against ignoring what he has told her to do. Even though it is such an awful thing. She doesn’t wear any under her skirt.

At school, right after assembly she is called into the Head’s office. He is grinning. He says he has had a phone call. Helen wants to disappear under the floorboards. Scarlet-faced she manages to find words, and pleads with the Head not to put it on the noticeboard as Mr Hayling has presumably asked him.

Grinning still, Mr Banting gets up from his desk and comes round. ‘No?’ he queries. And slides his hand up the back of Helen’s skirt, to her quivering bare bottom.

‘Are you sure?’ he asks, his hand fondling the bare cheeks. And then, not grinning now and his voice sounding rather more intense, he tells her to turn. Helen doesn’t want to, definitely not. She knows where Mr Banting’s hand is going to go. But she can’t have that notice going up… so she does it. His hand slides round — or rather stays still as she turns. The Head’s hand closes over Helen’s bare cunt. She gives a frantic little whimper.

Softly he says he must see her right after school. When presumably she will still have no knickers on.

----//----

But the Head is not that bad. What he wants — and he wants it several more times that week — is not such a problem, though it is not at all nice. But compared to Mr Hayling, it is not anything. Mr Hayling and that hand belting into her poor bottom. And even more of course — much, much more — is that cane. Oh God! Mr Hayling’s cane!!

‘Darling, have you been OK?’ her Dad asks when they get back. ‘Your mother and I have had a marvellous time, it was such a pity you couldn’t come. Has Mr Hayling looked in at all?’

Mr Hayling has looked in every day. Staying for more than an hour each time. But Nick Fernley doesn’t know about any of that. Vivien hasn’t told him. And Helen certainly won’t tell. No one knows, and she couldn’t bear anyone to know. Certainly not her father. Or Greg. And maybe she can now forget it herself. Is that possible? Not immediately of course but after a bit. If there is not going to be any more. And there isn’t. Is there?

Vivien knows of course. She is sure it has been a good thing for her daughter. Helen was getting too independent, especially regarding that Greg. Now she will be much more obedient. With the threat, spoken or otherwise, of Ron. Yes it has probably been a highly beneficial, salutary experience. She has a brief word with Helen, obliquely referring to it, and can see that darting look in her daughter’s big blue eyes. Yes, she is sure it has been effective.

Vivien knows of course because she has experienced it herself. The searing cut of that cane. The bright flash of pain precisely positioned and then spreading out. Yes she knows. She has in fact scarcely thought of anything else the last week, when she should have been admiring those splendid palaces and churches. Vivien is hot for it again. Today, if she can find an excuse. But of course it will be easy, must say she is going to thank Ron for his trouble.

Yes, she is really hot for it. As she has been all week. That red-hot cane… and then what comes after. The other. Helen of course will not have had that. Will she?