From the Top Shelf - In a Mist, Chapter 7

The story so far:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6

We have finally arrived at the point where Mr. Lennox has no choice but to cane Elizabeth. The elegantly detailed descriptions and exquisitely drawn-out buildup keep us waiting for the final moment to arrive. But it is not so much the actual caning as what came after it that appealed to me the most.  

In a Mist Chapter 7 - In which Elizabeth makes her acquaintance with the cane

The first thing Elizabeth did when she woke up next morning after a long undisturbed sleep was to go to the mirror, pull down her pyjama trousers, and examine her bottom. There were no longer any visible signs of the previous day's spankings, and the smarting had gone too. But when she touched herself there shew was conscious of a pleasant glowing sensation--proving that she really had been spanked. So it hadn't been just a dream.

putting on dressing gown and slippers she went next door to run a bath. When it was ready she immersed her body in its sensuous warmth and began to soap herself, paying special attention to her breasts, her bottom, and her private parts. She lay there until the water grew cool, fantasising dreamily about her stern handsome young tutor. Afterwards she slipped on some everyday clothes and went down to breakfast.

As on the previous day Mr. Lennox had breakfasted before her, but she noticed from his unused plate and cutlery that he hadn't touched the food and had merely partaken of the coffee.

Elizabeth on the other hand ate ravenously. Being spanked must be good for the appetite, she thought with  a smile. In fact her entire constitution was pulsing with healthful energy. She walked with a new spring in her step, her eyes sparkled, and her mind felt sharp and crystal-clear. This was quite extraordinary, for in the mornings she was usually sluggish and bad-tempered, not fir for human company until mid-day.

It was not yet nine o'clock when she returned to her room th change into her uniform. Ample time to prepare herself. This morning she was determined to arrive early.

 Her excitement grew as she drew on her stockings and fastened them to her garter-belt. The sheer black stockings seemed to emphasise the opal-cream fragility of her bottom, its soft rounded cheeks jutting out just a little too prominently for her peace of mind. As she had done the afternoon before, she stood for a while contemplating the ivory moons of her behind in the mahogany-framed mirror.

Just a hint of plumpness but by no means fat. How she hated fat bottoms on women--like for instance old Mrs. Poultney's, grotesquely elephantine beneath her matronly tweed skirts. Sven Florence Elizabeth judged to be too broad in the beam by far. Why, she wrinkled up her nose in amusement, it would take a whole regiment of soldiers to do justice to that big fat bottom of hers.

Whereas hers by comparison was daintily round and ripe, just asking for an appreciative slap from the hand of a male admirer. She stroked it lovingly. It felt firm yet at the same time as delicate and fragile as porcelain china. She reached for the talcum and lightly dusted her bottom-cheeks with it, The fragrant powder clinging to the barely visible little blond down that grew there.

She looked at her watch. Nine-thirty-three already! Had she wasted all that precious time in stupid daydreaming?

Now she was going to be in for it!

she dived into her cotton shimmy then wriggled into her panties, drawing them up snugly around her wist and tucking the hem of her shimmy into the elasticized waistband.

The blouse was even tighter than she'd feared. It constricted her breasts and she hardly dared take a deep breath in case the buttons popped undone and the garment flew open.

And as for the grey pleated skirt it was as if it had shrunk during the intervening years. Although the waistband still fitted comfortably Elizabeth was dreadfully embarrassed about the way the tiny skirt flared out at the back, only just covering her bottom and the tops of her stockings. She looked every inch an insubordinate schoolgirl, ripe for punishment.

Some last minor adjustments and she was ready. No time to worry about her hair. he opened the bedroom door a fraction and peeped through the crack. No one about.

She tiptoed along the corridor past her guardian's room, holding down the hem of her skirt in case one of the menservants should appear at a doorway and see her stocking-tops. When she reached the landing she scampered across it like a frightened rabbit. A little disheveled and out of breath she knocked urgently on the schoolroom door then entered.

She was eleven minutes late.

Lennox, grim and impatient in his long black gown, was waiting. As he turned she was dismayed to see the cane already in his hand.

Annoyed at her unpunctuality he was even more annoyed with himself for allowing his baser instincts to get the better of him the previous night. What in God's name had he been dreaming of? Flushed with his own self-importance he had drunk too much port, and this morning felt hung over and irritable. He'd been a fool even to think the things he'd thought. He was glad in a way that she was late for it gave him a perfect excuse to vent his ill-humour on her.

"What did I tell you yesterday  about being on time?" he snapped crossly. Too intimidated by the presence of the cane to offer any explanation she merely blushed and hung her head. Her pule raced, her legs felt weak. Did he really intend to beat her with that long swishy stick? Why couldn't he use his hand instead? She'd much rather he spanked her.

Despite his mood of sullen displeasure he found it hard to take his eyes off Elizabeth, dressed as she was in school uniform. The white cotton blouse moulded her breasts--he could even see the outline of her nipples. The skirt was so short that whenever she moved she inadvertently revealed the banded welts of her stocking tops. It was enough to quicken the heart of any man.

His throat felt tight and constricted. Clearing it self-consciously he said, "Before we commence the morning's studies I shall obviously have to give you a little lesson in punctuality. Go to my desk and bend across it. As you see, I have already cleared it in  readiness for you."

He watched her hungrily as she walked towards the desk, her skirt jiggling from side to side with the exotic swaying of her hips.

With pounding heart she stretched her body across the dark surface of the mahogany desk, gripping the far edge and pushing out her long black-stockinged legs behind her to brace herself.

"Bend your knees slightly, Elizabeth," he directed. She did so, the effect being to thrust her bottom into even greater prominence. How dreadfully embarrassed she felt, her behind sticking up so absurdly in the air. She knew her tiny skirt offered it no concealment at all.

He was delighted to discover that she'd gone to the trouble of wearing genuine schoolgirl panties. If anything their fleecy white snugness made her bottom look more desirable than ever.

With the tip of his cane he flicked the back of the skirt up above her waist to ensure it would not get in the way. \he was still a little worried by what she's said the previous day--something strange about being "comforted" by the spankings he'd given her. He decided whenever possible to avoid the temptation of touching her on the bottom with his hand, for he had heard several accounts from older colleagues of girls who had grown unhealthily partial to being spanked. The last thing he wanted, albeit unintentionally, was to encourage any kind of morbid fixation in the girl.

He felt thoroughly ashamed of the unethical thoughts he'd had about her the night before. It was imperative that he acted in a way that was beyond reproach. He must be judicially impartial at all times. He would reward her with praise when she did something to deserve it, but he would never let it go beyond that. He had been much too soft with her after he'd spanked her. He must never allow it to happen again. He must try to be more consistent. Brisk and firm. That was the answer--brisk and firm.

"Now," he said, addressing the submissively bent over girl as calmly as he was able. "I shall give you four strokes. I shall not ask you to take down your panties as this is your very first caning." Elizabeth gulped with relief. "However, if I have cause to punish you again today, I warn you here and now that it will be on your bare behind. Understand?" (Brisk and firm, brisk and firm--that was it!)

"Yes, sir, I understand," a tiny wavering voice answered him from the other side of the desk.

"I shall begin then. Try to keep your behind perfectly still otherwise the cane may land more than once on the same spot--and that would really be painful now, wouldn't it?" She nodded her head and whimpered.

He moved into position a couple of feet to the left of her and gave her bottom a warming-up. She froze in terror, her buttock muscles tightening instinctively. He felt his mouth go dry with excited tension.

"After each stroke, which I shall count aloud, I should like you to thank me for all the trouble I am going to, to make you into a better behaved girl. I think you'll find that apart from anything else it will help you bear your punishment more bravely."

Anyone witnessing the scene might have objected that to compel her to thank him for caning her was unnecessarily cruel. But Elizabeth was too overwhelmed by the occasion to do anything other than accept the ceremony as an essential part of her correction. She regarded him at that moment almost as a god. If he told her to strip naked in order to be whipped, then she would have done it.

"Ready?" He raised the cane. Elizabeth held her breath, her body rigid with expectation.

"ONE!"

"Uh! Thank you sir!"

"TWO!"

"Oh! Thank you sir!" Only two more strokes--yet already the fiery pain had brought tears to her eyes.

"THREE!"

"Ooh! How it stings and burns!--Thank you sir!" she gasped as the thin supple cane bit savagely into her cheeks again.

"FOUR!"

"...!" How she rolled and twisted across the desk, clenching and unclenching her buttocks in agony at the atrocious smarting. "...Th-thank...you...sir! she howled in sobbing spasms.

The anger that had driven him to cane her so soundly melted away to be replaced by pity and admiration. She had lain there bravely across the desk for the entire duration of the punishment without flinching or trying to escape. He's never in his life met such a plucky girl.

 He let her lie there for several minutes rocking agitatedly from side to side as the pain slowly ebbed away, and with it her keening sobs. He tried to imagine the fiery state of her bottom beneath her panties, the four cane weals marring its velvet perfection. The thought appalled yet excited him. He felt tempted to pull down her panties there and then, and gaze in perverse delight at the damage he had wrought to her delicate alabaster cheeks. But he turned away, ashamed of his erection, and hurriedly went to replace the cane in the cupboard.

While his back was turned Elizabeth slipped her hand down her panties and explored her wounds. The throbbing weals filled her with a mixture of dread and pride. How long would they remain emblazoned on her cheeks? Hours? Days? Weeks? Had the can actually broken the skin? She inspected her fingers and was relieved to find no trace of blood.

Sitting down was once again a painful operation. The hard wooden chair only exacerbated the smarting. For the next hour or so she found it difficult to concentrate on her lessons, especially as she was inconstant fear of being caned again--this time without the protection of her panties.

But somehow she managed to survive the rest of the day without incurring Lennox's further displeasure. The caning in more senses than one kept her on her toes...

That evening she stood before the bedroom mirror in just her little cotton shimmy, gently tracing with her forefinger the blue-black indentations disfiguring her pretty bottom. The painful throbbing had subsided to an afterglow of warm sensual pleasure.

I'd still far rather be spanked, she pouted wistfully, recalling the glorious sensations of the day before when she'd lain helpless across his lap, her pubis rubbing frantically against his loins, her bottom hot and quivering from repeated contact with his hand.

By comparison he had wielded the cane with an air of cold-blooded detachment, its venomous bite creating pencil-lines of pure localized pain.

Despite that, she was still perversely proud of her weals. The realisation that they would remain etched upon her flesh for days was for her an overpowerfully eroitic one. He had set his mark on her. Branded her as a Roman would have done his slave.

She then flung herself down upon the bed and with her legs wide apart began fondling her aching sex.

Across the corridor in the guest room Lennox too lay on the bed, shirt-collar undone, trousers unbuttoned, his excited penis pointing up at the ceiling. With thumb and forefinger looped around the circumcised dome he slowly worked his way downwards to the base. It twitched and jerked as his hand rose and fell ever more quickly up and down the thick fleshy shaft.

Alone in his room he was at last giving vent to the appalling fantasies he'd been having ever since Elizabeth had first walked through the schoolroom door. In his mind he was making her strip naked. He laughed to hear her weep with shame on being told to lower her panties and expose herself completely. Eyes bathed with tears she pulled them down until they hung forlornly round her knees.

He shut his eyes and rubbed away furiously at his rock-hard penis, picturing the paradisaical delights of her virgin sex.

He imagined stroking her there between her legs, feeling her heat, insinuation his finger into her cleft, rubbing her--just like he was rubbing himself--and his finger oozed with wetness and she began to pant and plead, "Don't! Oh please stop!" (Or was it "Please, sir, oh don't stop!" she was saying?)

"Off with your shimmy and over my knee, girl," he ordered her in his daydream. Now she was in just her black stockings and garter-belt. Blubbering wretchedly she crawled across his lap. The big bulge of his erection pressed up against her naked pubis.

He engineered it so that the smacks arrived at precisely the moment his thumb and forefinger completed their lightning descent down the length of his prick, so that her round jouncy bottom received the full force of his masturbatory fury. Had such a spanking occurred in reality, she would not have been able to sit down comfortably for a fortnight.

"--THERE! THERE! THERE! THERE! THERE! AND THERE!!! Now, let that be a lesson to you, my girl!"

As the final smack exploded on Elizabeth's crimson rear, Lennox came. His hand sped up and down in a blur of motion as the long milky jet of spunk shot ceilingwards. then felt like rain upon his trousers and surrounding coverlet.

Wasn't that something!