Monday, August 12, 2013

Ellen's Story - History Repeats Itself

It's time for another installment from Ellen's Story. Ellen's mother has gone away for a week, and Ellen and Roderick have planned to spend the time together in her cottage. He has arrived carrying an assortment of paper parcels.

I flung myself into his arms and he kissed and hugged me, then gave my bottom a resounding wallop. He had never been inside a real country cottage before and, after inspecting our downstairs living quarters thoroughly to his satisfaction, he declared it quaint and picturesque. "I should be happy just to spend the rest of my days here with you, and just let the world go by!" he exclaimed with great enthusiasm.

I was intensely relieved that he really liked my humble abode. I had dreaded that he would find it poky and squalid. Then he asked could he see my bedroom.

"That is a most indelicate proposition to put to a lady!" I retorted, pretending to be shocked, but I led the way up the narrow stairs with him struggling on behind me with all his mysterious parcels, the nature of whose contents he had stubbornly refused to disclose - apart from one which consisted of a large hamper of food and several bottles of wine.

When we reached my bedroom door Roderick, laughing merrily, pushed himself past me and closed the door in my face, forbidding me to enter my own room for at least a minute.

"Roderick, whatever has got into you? Let me in!" I wailed in exasperation, pummeling the door with my small fists.

"You can't come in till I say so!" he shouted back. I could hear the tell-tale crackle of brown paper as he worked frantically to unwrap all his parcels.

At last he flung open the door and,with a low bow, ushered me in. Strewn everywhere - on the dressing table, the bed, and even on the bare floorboards - were feminine garments of such finery as I had only before glimpsed in expensive fashion journals. There was a beautiful white muslin summer frock and another in pink tulle, decorated with pretty flounces.

But mostly there were underclothes: delicate 'Empire' chemises made of the finest lawn; white cambric petticoats decorated with satin ribbons stitched in rows, and flounces of broderie anglaise; exquisite knickers with saucy frills of muslin embroidery; French knickers too (those of the wider leg variety) made out of the sheerest silk, daringly translucent and extravagantly trimmed with blue ribbon. These knickers were cut on the cross and hand-stitched onto a narrow waistband which fastened on the left hand side with two tiny pearl buttons.

There was also a tiny white corset, cunningly designed to push up the breasts, only just stopping short of the nipples and ending an inch or two below the waist - leaving the pubic region and the buttocks fully exposed. Thankfully I had no need of corsets - but I could tell at a glance that this one was designed not for any utilitarian purpose but solely for pure profligate pleasure.

Layer upon layer of frothy, frilly concoctions festooned my bedroom floor. in addition to which there were other dainty trifles such as black silk stockings (something I had never been able to afford) and blue and red satin garters...

"Well now, Ellen," Roderick murmured encouragingly, "aren't you going to be a good girl and put on some of these pretty things, just to delight me, eh?"

I buried my blushing face in the silky knickers. I suddenly felt very shy and awkward in front of him. Did he expect me to take off all my clothes - with him standing there watching? He had seen me naked before, of course - but previously I had reached that totally unadorned state in a flurry of blissful unawareness, during the frenzies of our lovemaking. To slowly divest myself of every single stitch of clothing, in cold blood as it were, while he sat back and watched me like a spectator - well, that was another thing altogether, for I was painfully self conscious when it came to showing off my body - even to him.

"Come along, Ellen, don't keep me waiting," he urged. He sat down on the edge of the bed and gazed at me expectantly, like a hungry guest at the start of a feast. I felt distinct pangs of embarrassment stirring in my loins. He seemed to take a perverse delight in mortifying me thus. Perhaps he realised even then that secretly I enjoyed being humiliated, every bit as much as he enjoyed humiliating me...

Soon he began to frown and grow irritated by my defiance. "Ellen," he said sternly, "your procrastination has already earned you a sound whipping, but if you do not carry out my wishes immediately, then I promise you it will be the severest whipping you have ever had in your life!"

The threat, and the fiercely masterful look which accompanied it, warned me I could delay no longer, so I started to undo the pearl-like buttons of my dress, wriggled out of the sleeves , and allowed it to descend billowing to my feet.

Then a rustle of undergarments whispered shyly in the fragrant summer air, as first my petticoat, then my chemise and drawers, and finally my stockings, followed suit.

And there I was, a demure young maid standing naked before her lover. Oh, the sweet shame of it... From the treasure trove of underthings he had bought me, he carefully selected a matching set of knickers and underskirt, breath-takingly featherlight and filmy, in peerless white muslin. He held them out to me at arms length, indicating I should put them on.

Timorously I took them from him and, with pounding heart and fumbling fingers, slipped on the knickers. They felt divinely silky, and fitted my well rounded bottom like a second skin, caressing it in a sensual embrace. They were cut daringly high at the back, which meant that the pear-like cheeks of my derriere peeped out provocatively from beneath the tight hems - leaving little to the imagination.

I pulled open the elasticated waistband of the matching underskirt and was about to step into it when he stopped me with a motion of his hand.

"Wait," he said, "You must put these on first," and handed me a pair of black silk stockings. I rolled them up, each in turn, and then drew them on over my feet, easing them slowly and gingerly up each leg so as not to tear them - for they were the finest, sheerest stockings I had ever seen.

"Now I have something else to show you, Ellen. Look." and he produced from a long canvas bag a slender rattan cane with a crooked handle. "Do you recognise it, Ellen? You ought to!" he grinned knowingly, flourishing the rod before my startled face.

I regarded it with both dread and fascination. I had only ever seen such a school cane once before in my life, and that was when his father had...

Then I realised the meaning of his words. It was the self same cane that Dr. Smallwood had used on my bottom when Roderick - then a boy - had witnessed my disgrace from the window.

"How on earth did you come by it?" I asked in astonishment.

"I stole it from my father's study, as a treasured memento, the evening after he caned you and that other girl."

"Roderick," I murmured, colouring up with shame at the memory, "you watched the whole thing from the classroom window, didn't you! I saw you out of the corner of my eye!"

"Yes I did!" he said warmly, without a trace of guilt. "I guessed that my father would cane you for fighting in the playground, and I had this overwhelming urge to watch him do it."

"What a dreadful boy you were, Roderick Smallwood, " I murmured, cringing. "And did you have no conscience at all about spying on two young ladies in shame and distress?"

"None whatsoever!" he replied, grinning broadly. "On the contrary I enjoyed the spectacle immensely! In fact while your naughty bottom was receiving its just deserts from this very cane I have hoarded and cherished ever since."

I flushed a deep shade of crimson, too embarrassed even to speak.

"I must admit I was deeply disappointed that my father caned you over your clothes," he went on blithely. "I kept praying that he would make you undress completely and then cane your bare little bottom. Oh how thrilling that would have been! But here at last is a golden opportunity to redress my father's excessive generosity; an opportunity to do that very thing! I propose therefore to give you a good old-fashioned school caning on your bare bottom. Kindly prepare yourself by removing your underslip and lowering your knickers!"

The prospect of a real caning re-awakened all those feelings of dread and trepidation I had suffered in Dr. Smallwood's study all those years before. I felt genuinely afraid, even though I could trust Roderick not to cane me to excess. I turned pale and my legs beneath me began to tremble. I became gripped by that ungovernable excitement I always felt when I was about to be severely punished. My mouth went dry, my skin prickled all over,and my loins grew hot and clammy - as though in the throes of a fever.

I knew that this was all part of an elaborate game Roderick was playing - but for me it was all too real. Ever since his father had chastised me for fighting in the playground I had fantasised shamelessly about being caned on my naked bottom, and now that was actually about to happen I felt as though I would faint under the weight of all those repressed longings.

Roderick played the role of strict chastiser to perfection. The sterner he became, the more powerfully erect he seemed to grow. His dark brown eyes gleamed fiercely with resolution. I knew I could expect no reprieve whatsoever from the whippy yellow rod quivering in his hand...

With a tremendous sigh I slowly began removing my white muslin underskirt.

"Now your knickers, Ellen," he demanded, the excitement once more causing his voice to catch in his throat; and,when I blushingly demurred, he simply leaned forward and wrenched them down from the waistband, pulling them inside out so that they hung forlornly down to my knees - the soaking wet gusset on shameful display.

"Oh please don't do this awful thing to me, Roderick!" I wailed pleadingly - but he was like a man possessed. He pushed me face down across the bed then commanded me, in a voice shaking with lust, to raise myself up on my knees so that my bare bottom was humiliatingly elevated, then...

'SWISH-THWACK!' he brought the cane down fully across the tempting plumpness of my out-thrust buttocks - and before I could draw breath to cry in distress...

'SWISH-THWACK!' he landed the cane again on my exposed hindquarters - and ...

'SWISH-THWACK!' yet again!

At last I found my voice and uttered a loud yell. My knees gave way and my whole body collapsed ignominiously on the groaning bed. Needle-sharp spasms of unendurable ecstasy wrought havoc on my gyrating bottom cheeks, and I dissolved into floods of hiccuping tears. Dimly I heard him order me back in position...

"Oh no more...please, dear sweet Roddy, no more! My poor bottom's on fire!" I gabbled frantically. But obediently - for he was my lord and master - I retracted my legs and resumed my former kneeling position so that my burning bottom was once again a submissively accessible target.

I heard that terrible whirring sound as the cane sped downwards for the fourth time - and for the fourth time I felt its stinging kiss upon my aching flesh - catching me lower down on my buttocks where the flesh was baby-soft and delicate...

"Oooh! Owwww!" I howled, and rocked from side to side, my fingers scrabbling wildly across the crumpled bedclothes. No erring schoolgirl ever endured such chastisement as I did at the hands of my lover on that hot July afternoon.

The cane ceased to fall. Was my punishment at an end? I opened my eyes and twisted my head around. Roderick's face was transported and aglow with an expression I can only describe as one of mystical delight.

"Raise your bottom up as high as you possibly can now, Ellen," he panted hoarsely, " for I am determined to punish you soundly."

"No! No! No!" I protested, and tried to wriggle off the bed - but he grabbed me round the waist and, forcing my silk stockinged legs wide apart, commenced to apply the cane gently but firmly to my moist, distended nether lips.

I let out one enormous shriek as, simultaneously, I reached the peak of my sexual gamut. My burning flanks plunged and convulsed to a beatific consummation that swept through me in gigantic, self-immolating waves - until I swooned away in oblivion.
The next thing I knew was the comforting feeling of being cradled in Roderick's arms while he kissed me lovingly, stroked my hair, and whispered the tenderest endearments he had ever spoken to me.

From Hermione's Heart


Our Bottoms Burn said...

OK, I am awake now. First Ronnie's latest adventure and then this bit of lustful behavior. You should be well thrashed.

Hermione said...

Thanks for that suggestion, Bogey.I'll see if Ron agrees with you.


ronnie said...


My that was a hot one. Thanks for sharing.

I wonder if Ellen and Roderick get married. You know though:)


garyntboy said...

I'm wondering how you got a picture of my cottage.....Only teasing....Great story Hermione, very inspirational. Now where did I leave that cane ??
Kind regards,

Hermione said...

Ronnie - You will have to wait and see:)

Gary - Good luck finding a thatcher when the roof starts to leak!


Hermione said...

My profile picture seemed to have disappeared above. It's back now.