Woody Woodpecker #070
3 hours ago
If you walked past the holiday chalets you came to a stretch of beach where nobody much seemed to go although it was attractive enough, scrub land and the open sea with a narrow ribbon of beach between. That Thursday afternoon, with a hint of rain in the brisk offshore wind, there seemed to be no one there at all and she had walked for perhaps half a mile quite alone. And then she saw him, a lone figure standing gazing out to sea. Afterwards, looking back, it was tempting to think she sensed something about him, some special quality, even then. But she knew that, really, she was just being fanciful.Ah, so we know Jane is thrilled by the thought of being spanked. But will she get her wish? You will learn the truth next week.
She had been there almost a week, the first half of a two-week holiday with her parents and though she would never have hurt their feelings by admitting it, she had begun to get bored. Due, without doubt, primarily to the fact that Bob wasn't there. Bob, due to become her fiance in a month's time, was 19 like her, and, by the worst possible timing, had had to go off on a company training course on those very two weeks.
It had come up at the last minute, someone else's cancellation creating a vacancy that Bob couldn't afford to miss. Jane had already booked her own holidays from work so there was no real option but to go ahead, with just her parents for company. To spend time wandering rather forlornly about in the little holiday town and along the beaches, since she wasn't all that keen on simply sitting in the sun because she burned easily, and anyway it had been a little too cool for that. So she'd been wandering around, thinking of Bob and how wonderful it would be if he was beside her right now.
That's what she was thinking when she walked around the point, and saw him; that lone male figure. Then the rain started, but she didn't feel like going back to that boring boarding house just yet, so she strode on, protected against the English weather in slacks and an anorak over her tee-shirt. As she got closer she could see the man was older, maybe in his fifties, a tallish man with grey hair, a walking-stick in his hand.
She was aiming to pass behind him further up the beach and not stop, but as she approached he broke off his reverie and turned round, then walked back up the beach towards her. He called a polite "Good morning" through the wind and waved. She stopped.
Smiling he said, "It'll be raining heavily very soon, I fear. You don't look dressed for a downpour."
He was evidently not a summer visitor, with that stick and his highly polished, expensive-looking, shoes. And that so-educated accent! She found she had stopped and was chatting to him without really intending to. Now when she looked back, there clearly was something about him. Those really piercing eyes and the air of...well...authority. Of being used to giving commands. And having them obeyed - unquestioningly.
He said, "You'll get soaking wet very soon, you know. Why don't you come back to my place and shelter until the worst is over? I only live just over the top. I'll make you a nice warm cup of tea. I don't think the rain will last too long."
The rain was becoming distinctly heavier and she thought of the distance she had to walk back. She looked at him, wondering if she should listen to all the warnings she'd been brought up with, but then said impulsively. "I'd love to. Thank you."
They reached his home just as the rain began to pour, a largish old house about five minutes walk back from the coast and protected by a windbreak of pines. Inside he took her wet anorak and she removed her woolly hat, shaking out her long, blonde hair. She was at once aware of his sharply appraising eyes; taking in her softly pretty face and also the rest of her body. She felt her face colouring up.
Because her tight yellow tee-shirt, she was only too aware, particularly with such a thin, seamless bra underneath, clearly revealed her full firm breasts and clearly delineated her button nipples. Her equally tight white slacks, clinging to her shapely bottom, likewise showed just about everything, including a clear outline of her bikini briefs.
She was dressed fashionably just like other teenage girls but she felt herself blushing madly as he looked. The problem was that she spent most of her time with men of Bob's age who were at ease with current fashions but with this rather distinguished older man she felt...well...rather naked.
His eyes suddenly stopped their frank appraisal as he smiled and said, "I'm awfully sorry. I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Robert Kendall."
Recovering her composure a little, she replied, "And I'm Jane...Jane Williams."
He made her some tea, and then sitting on the sofa in his sitting room she found she was telling him just about everything about herself, while his brown eyes gazed almost hypnotically at her - but mainly at her nipples. Why hadn't she worn something a little less revealing, she thought, feeling slightly uncomfortable, but then how could she have known...?
And, after she'd told him about the holiday and how bored she was, he said, "If you're so much at a loose end, why not come and do some work for me?"
He was writing a history of that part of the country and of his family who lived there for many years. He said he had a regular assistant but she was away on holiday.
"It's just secretarial work," he said, "but quite varied." Then smiling, he added, "I can promise you I won't let you get bored."
It was a shock, his offer coming out of the blue like that. She coloured up, then found herself saying, "Yes, I'd love to," without really thinking. When she had time to think she didn't regret her decision, it was just what she needed, but she was slightly startled by the fact that her initial response had been automatic as if somehow she was unable to refuse him.
"Good!" he said. "Splendid! I'm sure we will get on excellently!"
Shortly after that he got up and walked over to the window; it seemed to be brightening, he said. She went over and indeed the rain had just about stopped. As she stood beside him she suddenly felt his hand lightly on her waist. It sent a tingling shock right through her.
He said quietly, "You're quite a find, you know, Jane. Such a pretty girl and such a perfect age. Just 19. On the very brink of womanhood but still very young and malleable."
The firm hand squeezed gently and she just stood there, helpless, and beginning to tremble slightly. The soft voice continued,"Possibly young enough still to need a little firm guidance, eh, Jane?"
Then he said, quite casually, "Did you get that kind of firm guidance at school, Jane? Here, for example, on this lovely little bottom?"
As he spoke his hand moved down then slid over her bottom, handling it through the skin tight slacks as if it were his own private property.
She gasped - it was an almost unbelievable thing to do when she had met him only half an hour before. In considerable confusion she moved away, turning her bottom away from him. But the sensation of his hand remained as if it had left some indelible imprint.
Calmly, he repeated. "Well did you, Jane? Ever get this smacked or caned?"
She stammered in hapless confusion, "N-no of course not."
He laughed. "So neglectful of your teachers. A girl's bottom is simply made for discipline."
She was still trying to digest this and make some kind of a response when he said, very firmly, "Now, down to business. About tomorrow. I'd like you here at 9..."
* * *
She walked back along the beach with her mind in turmoil. Half of her thoughts were saying she just shouldn't turn up. Phone him and say she'd changed her mind. Because she had the distinct feeling that this was something she couldn't handle! He was like no one she had ever met before, a man to whom she felt automatically subservient, and that was clearly dangerous. And that self-confident hand on her bottom; she kept reliving the memory and each time it made her go hot and cold.
But the other half of her was saying, you have to turn up because you promised. You can't go back on it now. And she knew it was this half she would follow, because for all the risk and the danger she was shivering, not just with apprehension, but from pure excitement.
She told her parents she had met a distinguished writer and was going to do some casual secretarial work. "Oh that will be nice," said her mother. "Give you something to occupy your mind. I've been thinking how lost you seem without Bob."
Yes, but if only you knew the rest, Mum, she thought to herself. What on earth am I getting into? She rang Bob later. The course was quite interesting, he said, but he really missed her.
"I miss you too," she replied automatically down the line, then realised that she had hardly thought about him at all since her experience with Major Robert Kendall. She knew he was a Major after looking up his number in the phone book.
Her mind went back to what he'd said. About firm guidance and caning at school. It was just ridiculous - girls didn't get caned at school these days. But there was something - a memory from school which Major Kendall's remark had triggered.
She suddenly realised that Major Kendall wasn't completely unlike anyone she'd ever met, after all, because there had been Captain Maitland. When she was 16 she had changed schools from one with an all female staff to St. Margaret's, which had two male teachers. One, Mr. Fulford, had not been very exciting for he was fat, middle aged and bald, but the other one, Captain Maitland, had all the adolescent girls swooning. He was an ex-naval officer, tall and distinguished looking. In that respect very much resembling Major Kendall.
Captain Maitland had been a firm, no-nonsense, disciplinarian and it was rumoured that he spanked girls in private but the girls never heard anything other than rumours. Though he had left the school in mysterious circumstances just about six months after Jane joined.
She recalled a girl of her own age, Sarah Kemp, with whom she had become very friendly, slipping into her bed one night and holding her tightly. Then Sarah said, breathlessly, "Don't you wish I was Captain Maitland here in bed with you?" Then, "And what about if he called you to his room and put you over his lap with your knickers down for a spanking? Wouldn't that just blow your mind?"
She hadn't thought much about it before Sarah's remark but after that she savoured it nightly in her dormitory bed. Being summoned to Captain Maitland's room and being told, in that firm authoritarian voice, to get her knickers down and then bend over his desk. And then the electric sensation of hard male hand on soft bare female bottom...
That night for the first time during the holiday, as she lay in bed it was not Bob she was thinking of but two older authoritarian figures, Captain Maitland and Major Kendall. And guiltily, she ran through the same scene with both of them. She was a schoolgirl again in the St. Margaret's uniform, the short grey pleated skirt and the red and grey striped tie. And that straw hat with its red and grey ribbon squarely on her blonde head.
First in Captain Maitland's room and then in Major Kendall's the straw boater was removed and placed carefully on the desk and then her hands went up under the short skirt to her regulation brief white knickers, to slip them down to her knees. And then her bared bottom was either spanked over the master's lap or bent over his desk and caned.
The scenes were feverishly exciting, an excitement tinged with guilt and fear that she was allowing herself to have such thoughts. She tried to excuse them by telling herself it was just sexual frustration that was causing these bizarre thoughts, but...
I was mildly excited when I saw the girl in my headlights, thumbing a lift.
When I saw her rather more clearly through the driving rain, her soaking little skirt clinging to very curvy thighs and her sweater outlining splendidly firm breasts that obviously felt better without a bra, my excitement rose several notches.
I brought the Jag to a screaming halt beside her and lowered the electric window.
"Please Mister -"
"Go and stand in the headlights," I ordered, "Hands above your head! I want to see if you have any weapons!"
"Oh, but -"
"Do it now or I drive on!"
She did as I said. What a great little figure! She was barefoot, with a mini skirt, a jersey, lots of long hair and nothing else. I got out and walked behind her, ran my hands up and down her body, not neglecting the breasts that were outlined by her jersey as she stood with hands raised. She shrank away a little bit but did not protest.
Definitely clean - not even a handbag.
I got back into my seat and beckoned her back to the window.
"What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" I asked sternly, "You don't look a day over fourteen!"
"I'm eighteen," she said indignantly, shaking raindrops from her long red hair. "Today, actually!"
"Even so," I said, "I do not approve of young girls out alone at night miles from anywhere." I began to close the window, which, as I expected, put her in a panic.
"You aren't going to leave me here? Oh no, Mister, please!"
"I only give lifts to nice girls," I said. "Obedient ones! What you need is a good spanking, not a lift!"
"Oh but Mister - "
"I am obedient. I like to be obedient, honest I do." The glance she gave me was full of meaning. "I promise to be good if you let me in. I'll do everything you tell me to do. Don't leave me out here, all alone. I'm frightened of the dark. And he took all my money -"
"My boyfriend. I thought he was nice. Then he met another girl at the dance tonight and they just threw me out of the car. I didn't even have my shoes on! And she took my handbag, it had all my money in it." She burst into tears. "And he took all my rings and bracelets. People call me Silver because of all my bracelets, they were my money box."
I opened the door.
"You'd better get in, Silver. I'm getting cold with the window down."
"Not as cold as me, Mister," she snuffled. Now that she was close to me I found her very sexy, sort of slimly plump if you follow me. Juicy. Ripe.
"Don't be cheeky!" I said, "not when you're with me. Doesn't your father ever punish you for being cheeky?"
She shivered. "He used to beat me with his belt when I was naughty, but that was alright because I deserved it when I was a kid."
"Surely you don't think reaching eighteen changes that?"
"I suppose not." She burst into tears again. "my Mum died, you see, and Dad ran off, so there's nobody to look after me now."
"Or to spank you."
"Well, about that..." She paused and considered the matter gravely. "A spanking or two isn't such a big deal, it would be worth it to be looked after real well."
She looked at me. I couldn't see what colour her eyes were but they were big. "Yes Mister," she said wistfully, "oh yes it would, I don't mind truly. As a matter of fact...well anyway, you plan to beat me, then, if I'm naughty, like I often am? On the bare bum? Hard, with a strap like my Dad did?"
When I didn't answer - being totally speechless, as I'm sure you can appreciate - she leaned over and kissed me, pressing hard against me, a really erotic experience for a crusty old bachelor like me.
"I miss my Dad," she whispered.
"Where do you live?" I asked when I had got my breath back and my erection was a little more comfortably positioned. I also had the car purring gently forward by now.
"I got out of the orphanage this morning. I was going to live with the boy who dumped me. So nowhere, I suppose."
"You'd better come home with me then, just for tonight," I said.
"I guess so."
"And then we'll see."
"OK." She started playing with the stereo, apparently quite at home. "Got any good tapes?"
"Yes, some opera."
"Opera? Holy shit!" She leaned forward and turned on the radio, twiddling until she found some reggae, which I detest, and turned it up full blast.
I pulled in to the grassy verge and turned the music off, and she looked at me, her eyes frightened now, no longer mocking, tears not too far away.
"I do not tolerate behaviour like that!" I said. "Now over my lap for a spanking or out you go! It's up to you!"
"I-I didn't think we were quite that serious," she said.
"Well I am. Out. Start walking."
"There isn't even room for you to spank me."
"There will be when I come over there and open the door!"
"I see." She seemed to be thinking it over. "So it's a spanking or abandoned in the dark, eh? I just hate the dark! So it's a spanking for you, Silver, my girl! It's grit your teeth and bear it time. Mister, are you still going to take me home with you after you've spanked me?"
"Perhaps. We'll call this a test to see if you are serious about being obedient."
I moved over into her seat, away from the steering wheel, and she came over my lap, surprisingly heavy, just fitting when I opened the door, so that her head was out in the rain and her feet in the driver's seat.
"You really ought to tie me down if you're going to spank me," she said, " because I can't always control myself."
"Maybe the next time," I said. I was all of a quiver, no breath to talk with, a strange sensation. She was heavy on my penis, wriggling against it a little, and I shifted to get comfortable.
Don't rush this, I said to myself. Fate has dealt you a good 'un. Make the most of it. Test her out properly and maybe...maybe she might come to live with you and then...
One hand confirmed that she had no bra and the other was poised to lift that pathetic little rag of a skirt, and yet I couldn't quite bring myself to do it.
"Knickers," I said.
She twisted her head around.
"You'd better take your knickers off."
"I don't have any on, Dumbo."
"Don't you be cheeky - I've told you before!" She was testing me out, seeing how far she could go. Well she'd soon find out!
"What's your name then, Dumbo?" she asked.
"Very well, Sir Stephen, let's get on with it."
"What's all this 'Sir Stephen' stuff?"
"He's in my favourite book, The Story of O. Don't you know it, Sir?"
"Well then, " she said. "I think this is going to be fun. I shall call you Sir Stephen and think of myself as 'O'. Carry on, Sir Stephen, do your worst!"
She was trying hard to sound as if she didn't care what I did to her, but there was a very satisfying tremble in her seductive little voice, and she was squirming against my erect prick all the time.
But I couldn't hold out much longer, and then the thrill would be gone.
"Pull your skirt up."
"Well I -"
"Yes Sir, I am your obedient servant. I do like your beard, it makes you look ever so fierce."
Two timid little hands came round and pulled the skirt slowly back, revealing the plumpest little bottom it has ever been my pleasure to see, an arse to shame all arses!
"Hold your skirt there!"
"How many are you going to give me?"
"We'll see, won't we. As many as I think necessary."
"OK," she said, but her voice was definitely trembling now...
"Is this all the clothes you have?" I asked. "This bit of a skirt and jersey? No knickers, no bra?"
"That's all I was wearing, that's what my pig of a boyfriend liked. Will you buy me some clothes, Sir?"
"Perhaps. Shoes anyway. When we get home you can take these wet things off. They're filthy anyway. I think I'll burn them."
"But what will I wear?"
"I think I can spare you a shirt."
"Oh, but -"
"You aren't nearly as tall as I am, so it will cover everything. You will be quite decent for a while. And the house is very warm."
"Yes, but -"
"I will not be argued with!" I confess to licking my lips. "So you can take the skirt and jersey off now instead!"
"Oh, but -"
"NOW! Or get out and walk!"
She looked out in to the dark, wet night and then I slid back into my seat whilst she struggled out of her wet things without another word.
"Throw them out, then close the door!"
To my astonishment, she did as she was told without further protest, then actually put her arms round me and kissed my lips.
I had left the engine running to keep us warm and, having suspended the spanking, I now drove on in silence. I glanced at her in the dim starlight and got the impression of firm, high breasts, neither too big nor too small.
"Now you'll have to look after me!" she said contentedly.
"Is that what the kiss was for?"
"Yes, you're my guardian now, my benefactor. I'll be your slave-girl because you definitely can't abandon me in this state. And at least if I'm your slave girl I don't get to be spanked. I think you meant to hurt me!"
"I did," I said as I stopped the car once more. "In fact, I do!"
"Shut up and get over my lap like before."
It was even more delicious this time, especially as my one hand held a breast, quite different holding her naked body...
I raised my hand and then brought it down with a satisfying slap.
"Ow," she muttered, "that hurt!" A hand came back feeling for the place to rub better.
"Keep your hands out of the way, " I said, "or I'll add more!"
"But I don't know how many I'm going to get!"
"I still advise you to keep your hands out of the way."
I didn't know how many she would be getting either...
After three hard slaps she began to cry softly and then to sob openly which I found very stimulating.
After six she was writhing about like mad and howling without restraint.
"Holy shit!" she screamed. "I didn't bargain for this! I thought you were a soft touch!"
She tried to wriggle away but I was just too strong for her. Smack! Smack! Smack! I began to lay into her bottom really hard and fast, then she was screaming and squirming, struggling like mad, her beautiful bare bottom quivering and writhing across my lap...
She wriggled round and came and nestled in my arms, snuggling up to me, still crying softly.
At last she spoke, her eyes wide and pleading.
"You really are going to look after me, aren't you? I was ever so good, wasn't I?"
"Yes, provided I can train you to my ways, make you into a good obedient companion."
"Of course Sir," she said softly, "whatever turns you on. I'm just your helpless victim aren't I. I'll have to be your...totally obedient little slave-girl - but don't beat me so hard next time. My God that really hurt!"
"We'll see," I said and she smiled in contentment.
She would squirm under my slipper, I thought, and as for my belt...
She would have to plead very nicely if I was to go easy with her on that!
I'd soon find out just how submissive she could be!