From the Top Shelf - In a Mist, Chapter 6

The story so far:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5

I did a little online research and it seems that this might be an early work of  James Jennings, published by Blue Moon Books. I am not familiar with this author, but maybe some of my readers are.

Now let us see how Elizabeth complies with her tutor's order to dress appropriately for the schoolroom. I'm afraid there is no spanking in this chapter, but there is plenty to stimulate your imagination, I assure you.

IN A MIST - Chapter 6 - In which Elizabeth discovers more than her school uniform

Elizabeth closed the schoolroom door behind her and, acutely aware of her throbbing bottom, walked stiffly and painfully along the oak panelled corridor that led to her bedroom. It was named "The Pink Room" because of the colour of its walls and was by far the prettiest room in Lymchurch House, exuding an irresistible childish femininity. A gaily painted dolls house and a large wooden rocking chair stood in one corner, while tucked up in bed, their sleepy heads reclining against the pillows, lay the half dozen teddy bears she had had since she was tiny.

A hanging wardrobe, a mahogany chest of drawers, dressing table with pink velvet upholstered stool, two cane seated chairs, and one little chintz-covered armchair completed the furnishings. Pink floral curtains hung at the window and a pink woollen carpet covered the floor. The big bow window with a low sill guarded by an iron grille overlooked the drive with a side view of the top of the rose-covered pergola.

Eager to carry out her tutor's instructions straight away, Elizabeth immediately rang for Florence and explained that she wished to have a word with Mrs. Anderson. Noticing the bloom in her young mistress's cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes, Florence was bold enough to enquire how she had enjoyed her first day back at school.

Normally Elizabeth would have snapped her head off, telling Florence to mind her own business and not to be so impertinent, so the maid was quite taken aback when she smiled shyly and said "Thank you, Florence, the day went splendidly. I have already learnt a lot of things I didn't know before."

Strange, Florence thought, looking at her mistress. Who'd have thought that Miss Elizabeth of all people would enjoy being cooped up on such a lovely day in that stuffy old schoolroom!

"Florence, a word before you go," Elizabeth added, remembering the cruel way she'd treated the maid the previous evening. "I'm truly sorry I got you into trouble with Mr. Harker. It was mean and spiteful of me - will you forgive me?"

Florence, her bottom still black and blue from Tomm's belt, seriously began to doubt her mistress' sanity. Miss Elizabeth had never deigned to apologise to a soul before, let alone to a mere parlour maid. Was this some kind of practical joke?

How odd it was that both girls were suffering from smarting bottoms - Florence infinitely more so - yet neither one had the slightest inkling about the other's affliction.

"Here -" Elizabeth went and extracted from the chest of drawers several pairs of panties in purest silk, like the pair she had on, as well as a satin underslip. She pressed them into the hands of the astonished maid, saying, "Here, take these - then at least I can feel I have made it up to you in some way." Winking slyly she whispered, "Have no fear, I promise not to tell on you a second time! Now go and deliver my message to Mrs. Anderson."

"Thank you, Miss, oh thank you!" the delighted maid stammered.

Then, concealing the illicit garments beneath her pinafore, she went joyfully about her duties, shaking her head in wonder at the extraordinary change that had come over her mistress.

While waiting for the housekeeper to come Elizabeth went to sit down on the low ottoman at the foot of the bed, her favourite perch during moments of contemplation. But as soon as her tender bottom touched the leather upholstered surface she shot to her feet with a loud exclamation, as if she had sat on a drawing pin.

She had no alternative, therefore, but to receive Mrs. Anderson standing up. Like all the other occupants of Lymchurch House, with the sole exception perhaps of Mr. Tomms, she was rather afraid of Mrs. Anderson, who in her childhood nightmares had appeared as a wicked witch flying through the air on her broomstick, and Elizabeth wasn't exactly looking forward to putting her strange request about the school uniform to the forbidding old woman.

Indeed the housekeeper was not at all well disposed to being summoned at that hour when she was busy in the kitchen supervising the cook and the kitchen maids in preparation for dinner. She cursed her young mistress loudly as she laboured up the stairs, suspecting it to be another of Miss Elizabeth's stupidly childish hoaxes with which she continually plagued the servants.

She was partially pacified to learn, on entering the room, that she had not been sent on a fool's errand, and was able to give directions as to the exact whereabouts in the laundry-room of the garments that Elizabeth required. Elizabeth hastily offered to go and collect them herself, leaving Mrs. Anderson free to return immediately to her duties below stairs. Much to Elizabeth's relief the housekeeper made no reference to why her mistress should suddenly be asking for her old school uniform after all these years. Elizabeth thanked heavens that, bad-tempered though she was, Mrs. Anderson was much too dourly aloof to be a busybody.

Minutes later Elizabeth's old school clothes lay in a pile on her pink floral bedspread. She had not fetched the blazer. Her tutor had expressed no interest in that. But there were four white blouses, washed and ironed, with all the buttons intact, as well as the two grey skirts, their pleats immaculately folded.

Tentatively she held one of the skirts up against her waist and looked at herself in the mahogany-framed mirror. As she had feared, the skirt would only just be long enough to conceal the tops of her stockings. She would only have to stretch or bend slightly and whole areas of naked white thigh would be embarrassingly exposed. The thought made her heart flutter with apprehension. Would Mr. Lennox like what he saw, she wondered anxiously. She was justly proud of her long shapely legs and for a moment she toyed with the idea of trying the costume on there and then to judge its effect, but she knew Mr. Lennox would only accuse her of being vain. Besides, it was an outfit meant specifically for the schoolroom, not the bedroom, so she put the articles carefully away in the bottom drawer of her mahogany chest.

Then she considered the question of underwear. She had no slips or petticoats short enough so she fetched scissors, needle and white thread from her sewing basket and, cutting two broderie anglaise underslips down to the required length, she quickly and expertly stitched the new hems.

There was no problem what to wear beneath the blouses. She would stick to the little white shimmies she always wore next to her skin. She never wore brassieres, feeling the same way about them as she did corsets.

She had a vast collection of stockings of every colour to match her gowns and frocks. But she knew instinctively he would want her to wear black ones.

As for garter belts her white satin ones would have to do for the time being. But flicking through a copy of The Lady's Realm she found a small advertisement displaying white cotton ones, the type generally worn by senior schoolgirls. She would ask her guardian for the money as a special favour (she had grossly overspent her dress allowance that month) and send for several.

Panties were the only real problem. The frilly silk and lace ones she habitually wore would look incongruous beneath those tiny pleated skirts. She searched desperately in her underwear drawer and discovered a couple of pairs of plain cotton knickers she'd forgotten she owned. They were fluffy and fleecy and had never been worn. She was sure Mr. Lennox would not object to her bottom being snugly and demurely attired in those, and she again consulted The Lady's Realm in order to send off for a sufficient quantity for a clean pair to be worn every day.

Shoes? Definitely not high heels. Black court shoes with a slight heel would fit the bill perfectly. There now, everything was settled.

She could not work out exactly why, but for some peculiar reason Elizabeth had found the task of choosing appropriate clothes to be schooled and punished in, perversely exciting. She had even found herself patting the seat of the cotton panties she would be wearing the next day, imagining the feel of his hand landing there.

Quickly slipping off her dress and petticoat she put her hand down between her legs to confirm what she'd strongly suspected. She'd soaked the crotch of her panties with her juices.

She moved over to the mirror. Drawing the curtains so as not to be seen from the garden, she drew her panties down to her knees and slowly bent over, facing away from the mirror and looking over her shoulder so that she could see the reflected image of her bottom.

Had he found her bottom pleasing when he'd hoisted up her skirt and petticoat to spank it? She blushed, hoping that he'd liked what he'd seen, since he so obviously intended to get better acquainted with it over the next few months.

It pouted prettily back at her in the mirror as it swayed lazily from side to side. Patches of red were still there, especially on the rounded summits. Now that the fiery pain had abated, it itched and tingled deliciously. It certainly did look disgracefully smackable in all its naughty prominence. She really couldn't blame him for putting her over his knee and spanking those bouncy little hillocks as hard and thoroughly as he had.

Opening her legs wider she bent over still further until the division between her bottom-cheeks was fully revealed.

"Oh heavens, is this what he will see when he prepares me for the cane?" she gasped. As well as the delicate little opening of her anus she was presented with a clear view of her other larger orifice, dilated and moist, the lips unfolding like the petals of a flower.

Galvanised by what she saw, and by the dark steamy fantasies churning in her head, she began to masturbate. She'd been building up to this, perversely denying herself the pleasure of it until finally she could delay it no longer. Savagely she thrust two fingers deep inside her opening, not even caring if she tore the sensitive flesh in the fury of her need.

It didn't take her long to get there. Soon she convulsed and went rigid, sobbing and groaning with pleasure before sinking lifeless to the floor.

Minutes later she rose unsteadily to her feet, removing her panties altogether and using them to wipe away the sticky libation between her legs. Then, still in shimmy. garter-belt and stockings, she fell into bed and straight-away fell asleep.

That evening Mr. Harker declared himself delighted with the prodigious change that had come over his ward. The change was evident in every word she spoke and every movement she made. She gazed at Lennox dreamily and blushed whenever he spoke to her. The very pores of her skin seemed to glow with some mystical inner radiance.

"How ever did you manage it, my boy," the old man asked in amazement at the end of the meal, after Elizabeth had risen from the table, kissed him fondly on the cheek, bade Lennox a blushing good night, and departed for bed. "I had been led to expect great things from you - but to have accomplished all that -" he pointed a spidery finger at Elizabeth's empty chair " - in just one day is nothing short of miraculous!"

After a short while, Mr. Harker too went up to bed, leaving Lennox to linger over his port and cigar, pleasantly reliving the happenings of the day. The bow window was open and the curtains still undrawn to let in the warm sweet might air. He sat pensively in the fragrant stillness broken only by the throaty cooing of doves from the little dove-cote above the stables.

Heavy footsteps crunched across the gravelled drive. Tomms on his nightly rounds. His stern craggy face appeared at the open window. Tapping the pane curtly he said, "Make sure you close it properly before you go to bed, Mr. Lennox. Wouldn't do for us to be broken into during the night now, would it?"

"Rest assured I shall attend to it, Mr. Tomms. Goodnight to you." Lennox replied, a little put out that his agreeable daydreams had been disturbed by such a trivial matter as the fastening of a window.

Once in bed, sleep eluded him. Like a sponge his mind soaked up vivid images of the girl he had come to tutor. He imagined what it would be like to strip her of her layers of innocence and commit acts of unspeakable indecency upon her person. Then immediately he felt consumed with guilt for even daring to think such things.

He couldn't forgive himself that, as her appointed tutor pledged to mould her into a lady, he secretly thrilled to all those qualities in her which he had been engaged expressly to uproot. Despite his better judgment he thrilled to the sassy provocativeness of her walk, the gleam of devilment in her eye. He hoped fervently that the spankings hadn't cured her totally of her naughty behaviour else there would be nothing left in her to tame, no reason to punish her anymore.

But if that were the case then he would have to invent reasons, for he realised with a serious pang of misgiving that he was becoming seriously addicted to chastising his pupil's neat rounded little bottom. Long into the early hours he lay there in his bed, tossing fitfully, struggling to fight off an obsession that could well jeopardise his entire career. But it was useless - he was hopelessly under her spell.

The thought of her coming to him next morning dressed as a leggy schoolgirl inflamed him beyond all endurance. He knew he was sailing into deep and dangerous waters - but nothing could possibly make him alter his course.

It had never happened before with other girls he had taught. Some had been more beautiful than her, but they had been such dull timid creatures. He only had to punish them once, or just threaten them with the cane, and they would shrivel into instant obedience.

But with Elizabeth he instinctively knew that no single act of punishment would ever completely subdue her boundless spirit. No matter how severely he chastised her, her uncrushable nature would spring up again like a Phoenix rising from the fires.

He marvelled at her extraordinary response to being spanked. All the other girls he'd punished had hated it without exception and had all but expired from mortification.

But Elizabeth, although she had at first struggled and protested as much, if not more so, than his other pupils, had ended up reacting positively, almost passionately, to being spanked. Just as though it were satisfying some deep inner need.

He had never met a girl like her before, he declared in bewilderment, his conflicting emotions doing battle inside his head until they mingled together in a thick swirling mist.

Roll on the morrow! I am anxious to see the effect Elizabeth's attire has on Mr. Lennox, as I assume you are. You will have to wait until next week, though.