| The story so far: | |
| Chapter 1 | Chapter 12 |
| Chapter 2 | Chapter 13 |
| Chapter 3 | Chapter 14 |
| Chapter 4 | Chapter 15 |
| Chapter 5 | |
| Chapter 6 | |
| Chapter 7 | |
| Chapter 8 | |
| Chapter 9 | |
| Chapter 10 | |
| Chapter 11 |
Chapter 16 - In which Lennox's lust becomes all-consuming, with disastrous results.Well, that's a bummer.
Shortly after midnight, Elizabeth crept into his room. The light was still on and he was sitting upright in bed, listlessly turning the pages of a novel, trying unsuccessfully to rid his mind of all those erotic images of her that were preventing him from sleeping.
"Sir?" she murmured, offering him, as before, the little pink jar of Pond's cold cream. Her lips trembled and parted soundlessly, rounding into a perfect 'O' of supplication.
He felt his penis stiffen beneath the bedclothes. Standing there before him in all her girlish defencelessness, she was his for the taking.
"Very well, Elizabeth. Take down your pyjamas and lie across the bed."
Without a word she lowered her pyjamas to her knees, exposing her sweet little pubic mound with its clustered grove of blonde curls. When she saw how greedily his eyes were devouring her most intimate parts, she blushed and turned away, so that her well-whipped bottom came into view.
Her daintily pouting cheeks were a blazing patchwork quilt of ridged cane weals and lingering spank marks.
He could stand it no more. Clambering out of bed, heedless that his prick was now fiercely erect and poking out incongruously through the slit of his pyjamas, he suddenly seized the startled girl round the waist and, lifting her up, deposited her upon the bed.
"Kneel - with your legs wide apart!"
Alarmed at the brutal terseness of his words, she obeyed. He pushed her head down onto the bed so that her crimson welted buttocks were well raised. The dark deep cleft between them gaped invitingly.
He unscrewed the jar of cold cream and commenced rubbing the cream vigorously into Elizabeth's proffered arse cheeks. As previously, he began at the outer extremities and systematically worked his way inwards towards her soft peachy love nest. She gasped and moaned as his slippery fingers tickled and toyed with her engorged clitoris. His index finger continued to torment her thus,while his second and third fingers relentlessly worked their way inside the petals of her labia, encountering an even greater lubricity than before.
Blind to everything but his desires, he tore off his pyjamas, knelt on the bed behind her and, clasping her buttocks, thrust his rampant prick directly at her virgin slit.
The slumbering house reverberated with Elizabeth's sustained shriek as, prising her bottom cheeks apart, he brusquely entered her, piercing her hymen in one savage thrust and sinking his rigid tool deep inside her.
His pent up arousal, that had been accumulating ever since he first set eyes on the girl, proved impossible to control. It was over almost as soon as it had begun. As Lennox discharged his hot, sticky spending in the depths of Elizabeth's womb he groaned aloud in despair - not only at his own ineptitude but because of the way his blind unreasoning instinct had led him to betray everything he held in trust.
Trapped as in a swirling mist by his animal passions, he had in a few moments of utter abandonment, despoiled an innocent girl of her honour and sullied his professional career for ever. The shrinking agony of detumescence came upon him and he buried his head in the pillow beside the girl and wept silently. While Elizabeth drifted into a deep sleep of contentment, a cold dark shroud of guilt and self-loathing began to wrap its suffocating coils around him.
Grey-faced and haggard, he slunk from the bed well before dawn and, without waking his slumbering pupil, silently dressed and left the room. Downstairs he penned a note to his employer tendering his immediate resignation, omitting, for the sake of Elizabeth, to specify the cause. He fabricated instead a hasty excuse about having to attend to some urgent family matter back home.
He apologised humbly for the great inconvenience his sudden departure would cause and asked that his personal belongings be forwarded on by rail to Yorkshire.
With one last lingering glance at the mellow honeysuckle-clad walls of Lymchurch House, especially the balcony above the porch where he'd had his first glimpse of Elizabeth, he set off briskly - but with a very heavy heart - on the long walk to the railway station. The first cold light of dawn was starting to filter through grey clouds above the chalk downs.
He caught the first available train, a slow one that stopped at every station between Lymchurch Halt and London Victoria. Late that night saw him once again on the windswept moors of his native Yorkshire. Filled with tearful, bitter self-recrimination he made a solemn vow to himself never to undertake the tutoring of girls again.
A couple of months later, having secured a post at a boys' boarding school in the Lake District, Arthur Lennox was idly scanning the society columns of The Times when he gasped in shock. There, in small print, was an entry announcing the marriage of Elizabeth Harker of Lymchurch House, West Sussex, to Colonel Terence Montague: heir to a title, with a chic mews cottage in Chelsea and large estates in Buckinghamshire.
So she hadn't wasted any time, Lennox reflected with pangs of jealously leavened with genuine gladness at his former pupil's new-found happiness. Chuckling wryly, he thought to himself: I hope he is not one of those weak-kneed chinless wonders, like some blue-blooded members of the aristocracy, and that he is man enough to smack her bottom soundly whenever she deserves it - otherwise he will never keep Elizabeth in order.
The following March, nine months practically to the day after he'd so abruptly said farewell to Lymchurch House and its occupants, Lennox learned from the same newpaper that Mrs. Elizabeth Montague had given birth to a baby boy, "two months premature," so the entry said, "the boy to be christened 'Arthur' after a very dear friend of the family on the mother's side."
Lennox spent that evening closeted in his room. Slumped in a shabby brown leather easy chair, sipping morosely at a full tumbler of Scotch whisky, he gazed pensively at the opposite wall while constantly playing and re-playing on the wind-up gramophone by his side, his worn but beloved record of "In a Mist" , the haunting piece of subdued bluesy melancholia that had so enchanted his dear Elizabeth on that rainy June morning in the summerhouse at Lymchurch.
Lost in a bittersweet mist of reveries - that is where we must leave Arthur Lennox for the present moment.
| The story so far: | |
| Chapter 1 | Chapter 12 |
| Chapter 2 | Chapter 13 |
| Chapter 3 | Chapter 14 |
| Chapter 4 | |
| Chapter 5 | |
| Chapter 6 | |
| Chapter 7 | |
| Chapter 8 | |
| Chapter 9 | |
| Chapter 10 | |
| Chapter 11 |
Chapter 15 - In which Lennox's desires push him to extreme measuresI think Lennox really went over the top here. It's a pity he couldn't read Elizabeth's mind.
Despite its burning discomfort, the spanking brought Elizabeth great joy, for it told her he still cared enough to want to do it. She felt replete and comforted afterwards, for the spanking had driven out all her demons. She went to bed early and fell asleep with her fingers still deep in her sex.
The next day, it being the end of the school week, Lennox spanked her twice for good measure; once in the morning and once more in the afternoon. He gave no particular reason for doing so - indeed her behaviour was impeccable throughout the day. Yet she made not the slightest murmur of protest, for despite all the pain and the indignity that he put her through, she had quite patently grown as hopelessly addicted to being spanked as he was to spanking her. It had ceased to be a punishment, more a thrilling erotic game that they both played with consummate skill. Much to his delight she still blushed and trembled when he told her to go across his knee, for she dreaded the actual bodily pain - even though she greedily craved for the wonderful feelings that flooded over her afterwards.
That morning Lennox proved once more, to his immense satisfaction, that a sound spanking - if sufficiently severe and protracted - was a devastatingly effective and deliciously sensual means of reducing Elizabeth to tears. There was the added advantage too that spankings could be repeated frequently and ad infinitum without causing lasting damage to her bottom. He would spank her as often as he desired, and reserve the cane for any real behavioral lapses on her part.
"Do you understand me, Elizabeth?" he said gravely, informing her of the new regime. She looked up at him with startled eyes, then quickly looked away again. Her poor bottom - how it smarted from the smacking it had received half an hour before. And the morning was only half over. There was still the entire afternoon to get through! She knew from the look on his face that he would do it to her again - maybe several times. Besides which, if she committed even the most trivial error in her schoolwork, or as much as suffered the slightest lapse in concentration, he would mark her bottom cruelly with the cane.
She felt sick with excited terror, and was much too agitated to eat her lunch.
Lennox grew even bolder and devoted the whole afternoon to the delights of erotic discipline, incorporating all the subtle refinements he'd dreamed up during the past weeks to subdue and debase her further. He brought his most daring fantasies to life. He stripped her of her blouse and skirt and made her stand before him, shivering with embarrassment in just her black stockings and white cotton underwear.
"Place your hands on your head, Elizabeth, and turn around slowly so that I can take a good look at you," he barked hoarsely, his hand toying with his erection through his trouser pocket. "Do you feel embarrassed? Do you feel ashamed?"
"Yes, sir...I do," she murmured, her face on fire. She revolved obediently until she had her back to him. It was a relief no longer to feel those deep-set aquamarine eyes of his boring into hers.
"Bend over and touch your toes," he commanded. "Right over! Bend your knees slightly and stick out your rear."
She gasped at the impropriety of what he was making her do. Bottom vulgarly proffered, just asking to be -
"There, Elizabeth! That's what you deserve! And again!" She squealed loudly as he struck her twice, with the flat of his hand, on each thinly-clad buttock in turn. The crude indignity of Elizabeth's posture exaggerated the spread of her arse-cheeks, pulling the cotton knickers tight across her cleft.
Lennox ground his teeth and chewed bitterly on the cud of frustrated desire. Why was it that the more he debased and humiliated her, the more she seemed to mock him with her unconscious bodily movements?
She cried out in alarm as he began to strip her of her knickers. "Just you wait, my girl! I'll soon have you crying in earnest," he muttered, tugging impatiently at the waistband. The sudden act of despoilation afforded him grim satisfaction. He nearly ripped them in his haste.
Dragging them to below her thighs he let go. The white underpants slid with an imperceptible 'shush' all the way down to her ankles.
He stood behind her, almost brushing her with his trousered erection. Now he could do it! It would be so absurdly easy...a bursting of buttons..a step nearer..a garnering of loins...an opening of thighs...a quick, savage thrust aimed at her very core...and in a trice it would be done. Impaled on the pitiless shaft of his maleness she'd flap and beat her wings futilely, like an ensnared bird.
Oh what madness was this? He clapped his hands to his head and twisted about in an effort to regain self control. Through lips as tight as iron bands he ordered her to go and stand in the far corner of the room, as though she were a naughty little girl in disgrace.
He watched her with narrowed eyes, her bare bottom swaying and pouting succulently as, hobbled by the fallen panties, she made her way with some difficulty across to the opposite wall. He wondered drily if she knew how near she had been to losing her virginity.
"Hands on your head as before, and face the wall!" he bellowed, furiously angry both with himself and with the girl - for wasn't he after all the bird who was snared?
Naked except for shimmy, garter belt, and black stockings, her knickers a mere wisp of twisted cotton around her ankles, Elizabeth turned her blushing face to the wall and took up the required posture of studied humility. She felt scared, yet immeasurably thrilled.
Still that exquisite little bottom of hers taunted him, pouting incorrigibly. He felt himself becoming almost hysterical. Frantically he tried to lay the blame on her. Those innocent wrigglings of ivory limbs, those whispering sighs - they were surely part of a calculated plot to weaken his resistance. Or was he just imagining it, and was he alone the architect of his own downfall?
He sat down in his chair and shakily lit a cigarette - something he had never done before in the schoolroom.
Discipline - pursued remorselessly and unstintingly as an end in itself - that was surely the answer, he thought, trying hard to pull himself together. He'd long ago succeeded in whipping all the insolence and disobedience out of Elizabeth. But now she was manifesting a more subtle form of defiance - something not far removed from witchcraft. Wreathed in a haze of acrid smoke he stubbed out his cigarette viciously.
He turned to Elizabeth and spoke to her in the calmest voice he could muster, reminding her how rebellious and rude she'd been on their first meeting. He reminded her of her senseless foolhardy behaviour when she endangered both their lives trying to swim across the river. He catalogued and collated every single one of her faults; her childish impatience, her giddy recklessness, her frequent lapses of concentration, her daydreaming, her sudden little outbursts of petulance. She squirmed uncomfortably beneath the lash.
He praised her sparingly for the scholastic progress, she'd made, "...but there is always room for improvement, Elizabeth, and we both know very well by now what is the most effective means of ensuring that improvement, don't we?" he concluded, his eyes never straying far from her nervously fidgeting bottom.
Her arms ached with the effort of keeping her hands on her head. She swayed dizzily. His sinister litany of rebukes and dark-voiced threats had made her legs grow weak with anticipatory dread. Waiting for the inevitable was the cruellest thing. If only he'd stop his ceaseless scolding, take her across his knee, and get it over with! She could cope with the pain - she'd grown intimately familiar enough with it over the past few weeks until it was now part and parcel of her day to day existence, like brushing her hair and cleaning her teeth.
Then, after he'd punished her and she'd had her cry, he'd forgive her and allow her to kiss the hand that had spanked her...
He noticed how sloppily she was standing, shoulders hunched forward, knees bent to tuck her bottom defensively in. "Your posture is atrocious, Elizabeth," he complained. "Push back your shoulders, straighten your back - and for God's sake push your bottom out! We've all got one - why be ashamed of it?"
Cringing miserably she obeyed all his commands, except the final one.
"I said push it OUT!" he repeated, his annoyance flaring at her mute defiance. Still she persisted obstinately in tucking her bottom in, out of harm's way.
Lennox rose quickly from his chair. Half a dozen angry strides and he was beside her. Gripping her firmly by her pubis, he manhandled her as though she were a rag doll, until her behind was projecting with sufficient prominence for his liking - whereupon he smacked it resoundingly six or seven times.
"There! There! There! and ..There! That'll teach you to stand correctly, girl!" he shouted, almost weeping with suppressed arousal.
Tears were in Elizabeth's eyes. Her hands, still clasped on top of her head, felt like dead weights. Her bottom was dappled with crimson finger-marks.
He withdrew his hand from between her legs. Excited more than ever now by the discovery of her dampness, he looked haggard and wasted, as if eaten away by his lust.
"Hands down and return to your desk," he said deliberating how best to punish her next. Gratefully she lowered her aching hands from her head and cupped them shyly around her pubis. Her fallen knickers still fettered her ankles. Dare she remove them? Would he object? Speedily she stooped to disentangle them from her feet, but just as speedily he delivered a prohibitive slap to that part of her anatomy so conveniently jutting out.
"No! Leave them where they are!" he barked. She squealed and straightened up, rubbing energetically at the sore spot. Then she shuffled awkwardly back to her desk, mortified at having to wriggle her red bottom in the process. He noticed too her grimace of discomfort when it touched the hard wooden seat.
Lennox had decided to set her an imposition, the most cruelly galling one he could devise - one which he hoped would enable him to penetrate the innermost recesses of her mind. "You will now write me a five-hundred word composition," he explained slowly, "entitled THE EFFICACY OF CORPORAL PUNISHMENT, in which you will record every thought and every bodily sensation - even the most private and intimate ones - which you experience before, during - and after - chastisement."
Bare-bottomed, perched delicately on her chair, Elizabeth stared incredulously at her tutor, then buried her scarlet face in her hands.
"No, " she keened, " please don't make me do that. I can't. I just can't!"
"Can't? Or won't?" he replied, pursing his lips grimly. "Have you so soon forgotten what it feels like to be physically punished?"
She shook her head vigorously. On the contrary, each and every spanking she'd received from him was indelibly inscribed in her memory.
"Come here to me," he commanded, holding out his arms. "Perhaps I had better remind you." He bundled her over to the punishment chair. Her bottom still stung from the previous attack, but she knew it was pointless to complain or resist, for that would only make it worse for her.
Over his knee she went, to suffer a relentlessly thorough spanking that carried her well beyond her pain threshold and left her gasping and choking with tears.
Afterwards he led her back to her chair and pushed her down on it, causing her to groan loudly in pain. Wiping her eyes and blowing her nose with her white embroidered handkerchief, she picked up her pen and falteringly began to write: "My tutor is very strict with me, although I know he has my best interests at heart. He spanks me for the slightest misdemeanour, and canes me for more serious offences..."
She wrote slowly and painstakingly for over half an hour. Many were the despairing sighs that escaped her lips, and there was much anguished gazing into space whenever inspiration deserted her. By the end of that time, she'd filled nearly four pages of her grey exercise book. She felt thoroughly ashamed of what he'd made her write. She'd set down a truthful account, or as near the truth as she could decently go without compromising herself completely, for there were some things she couldn't own up to.
"Finished?" he demanded. She nodded wretchedly. He snatched the book from her and began to read it eagerly, pausing now and then to correct lapses in spelling and grammar, so as not to appear too excited. An erotically compelling document, it surpassed his wildest expectations. She'd written graphically and in most satisfactory detail about her punishments. "I was hardly ever punished as a child," she'd written, "Imagine then, how embarrassing and shameful I find it, at the age of eighteen, to have to submit to spankings on my naked bottom! Afterwards my behind throbs unbearably and it is very difficult to sit down, but at the same time I experience a wonderful feeling of release and serenity - as though my soul has been cleansed of all imperfections. Gratefully I kneel down before him and kiss the very hand that caused me so much pain. I cannot begin to understand why I have these feelings but I can only conjecture that they are somehow connected with my not being sufficiently loved as a child."
He noticed, with a pang of disappointment, that modesty had forbidden her from making any allusion to the sexual gratification she undoubtedly obtained from being spanked. There was no mention of wet panties, nor the muffled groans of pleasure he'd heard her utter as she bounced and wriggled frantically across his lap - but perhaps that would have been asking too much.
He locked it away carefully in his drawer, intending to peruse it more closely when he was alone. Most likely he would take it to bed with him. For this young girl could never be his - legally or otherwise. But here, at least, was a poignant reminder of the strangely magical few weeks they'd spent together - something he could hold on to for ever.
And, some day, when he chanced to see in The Tatler, or one of the other Society magazines, a photograph of her - now a titled lady, suavely elegant in diamonds and flowing ball-gown - he'd smile wistfully to himself and re-read for the thousandth time this precious memento of times past so cherished.
Meanwhile Elizabeth stood anxiously before him, her hands shielding her pubis, shivering in just her shimmy and stockings. Softened by the sadness of his thoughts, Lennox felt tempted to let her put her clothes back on. But then he detected a strange air - more an aura - about the girl that made him defer from uttering the words. It was almost challenging, as if she were silently daring him to punish her further.
He found himself wondering how she would react if he ordered her to strip naked. Would she gather up her clothes and rush screaming from the room..or was his power over her strong enough to enforce this ultimate act of obeisance?
Curious to find out he stared slowly up into her wide expectant eyes and said, "Undress completely - every stitch. Off!"
If only he had a camera to capture the look on her face! First the numbness of shock. Then the colour fled from her cheeks, her pupils dilated and her lower lip began to quiver as if she were about to cry. How beautiful she looks when she's afraid, Lennox thought in sudden wonder.
"Everything?" she whispered entreatingly.
"Everything," he repeated, folding his arms to signify his intransigence.
In order to remove what remained of her garments she would have to take her hands away from her pubis. She knew that - and knew that he knew it too. That afternoon he had deprived her of every last vestige of dignity. He had made her parade round the schoolroom without skirt and blouse, and with her knickers draped ludicrously round her ankles, as though he had caught her in the act of emptying her bladder. He had forced her to set down on paper the feelings and sensations that came to her while being punished. He had already spanked her twice. But still he wasn't satisfied. It seemed the more he had of her, the more he wanted.
Well, she thought, kicking off her shoes and stepping out of her huddled knickers, here was his chance. Naked and defenceless, she'd be his for the taking.
She undid her garter straps then removed the belt and peeled down her stockings. Lastly she pulled the white cotton shimmy up over her head, exposing the firmness of her round young breasts, nipples, hard as buttons, proudly erect.
Was he going to smack her now? Smack her while she was in this shameful state of nudity? She was sure that he was. Her heart beat so violently and rapidly she was sure it would burst into fragments at any second. How could she possibly contain herself? Surely she'd die! He'd spent the entire afternoon shaming and chastising her over and over again - and all this had created an insatiable hunger in her loins that only his god-like prick could satisfy.
Please fuck me, Mr.Lennox, please fuck me right now, she prayed silently in uncontrolled excitement.
But still there was no release for Elizabeth, no end to her torment. He laid her down across his knee again. Her bottom twitched and squirmed frantically beneath the loud detonations of his palm. Fresh splodges of bright scarlet welled up instantly and the shrill descant of her howls shattered the peaceful drowsiness of the room.
His passion drove him to belabour her bottom cruelly. He spared her nothing, and only stopped after the shrieking girl's bottom and thighs were darkly incarnadined with the oft-repeated slappings of his palm.
He despatched her once more to stand in the corner so that he could sit and gloat upon his handiwork from a distance, which always seemed to make it somehow more satisfyingly erotic.
Her plump little buttocks glowed like two burning coals, radiating their fiery heat. How poignantly they contrasted with the porcelain cream of her slender back and shoulders, and the golden tan of her tomboy legs.
The afternoon sun flooded in through the window, bathing the white walled schoolroom with light, seeming to enhance the girl's appearance of martyred innocence. Her throaty sobs slowly died away.
Rigid as a poker, Lennox's penis ached unendurably. He had to do something to relieve the tension else he'd surely do what he'd live to regret the rest of his life. Muttering some inane excuse he abruptly left the room and ran along the corridor to his bedroom. Once inside he flung himself onto his bed and masturbated blissfully.
Ten minutes later he returned to the schoolroom. Elizabeth was still obediently standing in the corner where he'd put her, but, like him, her cheeks were brightly flushed and she was panting,as if out of breath.
Seizing her by the hands he led her back to the middle of the room to where she had left her clothes in an untidy bundle on his desk, but before he let go of her and told her to get dressed he noticed that the fingertips of her right hand were wet and sticky. She saw the look of gloating accusation on his face and she blushed guiltily.
"So that's what you get up to the moment my back is turned, is it? " he rasped. She squeezed her thighs tightly together in case he saw the dew-like drops of moisture glistening on the pubic hair around her cleft. Her heart thumped with terror - he seemed to have the power to look into her very soul. Could she help it if that final spanking had aroused her beyond all bearing? What on earth was a girl supposed to do with herself, tormented by such irresistible stimulation as that?
As a punishment he kept her naked for the rest of the afternoon and then, fifteen minutes before the end of school, he caned her bottom hard until she screamed orgiastically.
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