In the first half of the chapter we left poor Daisy Potter shivering with fear in her skin-tight pyjamas as Lennox's footsteps could be heard on the stairs. Read on:
Chapter 20b - In which Lennox gives full rein to his punitive obsession.Lennox must believe he is in heaven now. But has he forgotten Elizabeth?
This was it! Now she was for it!
"Oh God! Oh God!" she began to wail as the door swung open and the light from the corridor flooded in and dazzled her, so that she felt like a rabbit caught in a car's dazzling headlamps.
"Big baby!" he chided her. "Crying before I've even started?" He could be cruel with words as well as with his hand.
He strolled over to her bed, as though he had all the time in the world. Stooping, he regarded the little hunched up figure clutching the top of the blanket as if her life depended on it.
Then he reached down and tore back the blanket from her grasp so that her defensively foetal posture was fully revealed.
She was facing away from him, her tightly trousered left bottom-cheek presenting itself coyly, tremblingly.
He scrutinised it closely for a few endless seconds. Then he slapped it hard and derisively. She let out a whimper of alarm and reached behind to shield herself from further attack.
"Come on, Daisy. Over my knee," he whispered softly, almost with loving kindness, and she froze in sudden panic as he seated himself on the old familiar chair and waited for her.
She had no alternative but to obey. If she were to refuse or even hesitate she knew from past experience he'd drag her out of bed by the ear and fling her, like a rag doll, face down across his lap.
So she pulled herself miserably up from the bed, wiping away fresh tears with her sleeve, and arranged herself blushingly over his knee - anxious only to get the sickeningly humiliating, painful business over with as soon as possible, even though she knew she'd be too sore to sleep for hours afterwards.
The masculine odour of his thick tweedy trousers, redolent of ripe tobacco, engulfed her. Their coarse texture itched and prickled her through her thin cotton pyjamas.
She was painfully aware that her bottom presented a ludicrous spectacle, its pert plumpness exaggerated by the skin-tight pyjama pants worn quite threadbare by the many many times he had already spanked her. The embarrassing reflection occurred to her that one day perhaps his heavy hand would prove too much for the flimsy cotton, and the seat of her pants would split open beneath the constant friction. Then he wouldn't need to make her take them down, but just carry on smacking the raw red bottom-cheeks beneath, rather like skinning a tomato.
Now he was rubbing his hand up and down her bottom and between her thighs, and with an upward movement tracing with his finger the well-sculpted divide between her cheeks. All this just to remind her that her pertly prominent outcrop of girlish flesh was going to feel the force of retribution so thoroughly, so intimately that very soon she'd be bawling her head off for him to stop, her shrill protests jostling with the sharp explosions of his smacks.
Pulling her even further across his knee like he always did, only made her feel even more helpless than before. It left her dangling in mid-air with no safe reassuring anchorage of floor to brace herself against. Everything conspired to make her feel a helplessly vulnerable victim - even the childish pink floral patterns on her pyjamas.
But what caused her the most discomfiture was the hot stickiness she was starting to experience between her legs, and already she was dreading the moment when he'd make her lower her pyjama pants for surely then he would notice it too.
Suddenly, he was smacking her bottom hard and purposefully, and that hot familiar stinging sensation began to flood into her loins.
Remembering his cruel jibe about her being a baby she was determined to make him eat his words by enduring the smarting indignity with stoical bravery.
But no matter how she tried, she couldn't swallow the feelings of bitter shame and degradation she always felt while being spanked by him - it wouldn't have been so bad if her punisher had been a woman, but he being a man made it all the more humiliating. And it was her keen sense of shame, as well as her smarting bottom, that made her break her resolution and surrender with whimpering pleas.
"Not so hard! PLEASE not so hard!"
He liked to hear her protest and wail, liked to know that her bouncy little bottom was starting to sting and hurt. It roused the devil in him.
Holding her in tight restraint, his left arm clutching her waist, he began to spank her furiously, concentrating on the soft round summits of her cheeks. The suddenness of the onslaught took her entirely by surprise. She dropped her guard completely and commenced to yell, wriggle and kick for all it was worth.
She cast a beseeching look at him in the mirror but his head was tilted downwards, feasting his eyes on the saucy spreading of her arse-cheeks, their blatantly revealing gyrations, and his broad outspread palm splatting down on her melon-like buttocks - walloping them into subservience, punishing them for their provocative sensuality.
Just when she felt she couldn't bear it any longer the loud smacks ceased to fall - but not out of any regard for the girl's sufferings, for now he was ordering her to take down her pyjama pants. He wanted her to display herself in the full flower of her red-cheeked disgrace.
Painfully the weeping girl slid off his lap and stood upright. She was always allowed a few moments grace in which to massage the areas of her bottom and upper thighs which hurt the most, and tonight she took full advantage of this.
Then, blushing from her forehead to her neck at having to reveal herself so utterly, so ignominiously, and fighting back fresh tears at the thought of the most painful part of the spanking still to come, she tugged the little pyjama pants down to her knees.
He made her revolve slowly so he could gloatingly study the full effects of his handiwork. The blush on her behind far outshone the blush on her face.
Vivid strawberry-like blotches made curious patterns on what was once a virgin-white bottom. The ravaged buttocks twitched and trembled uncontrollably.
Most men, she thought to herself, snivelling wretchedly, would have been satisfied with that and would have said "Enough's enough!"
But not he.
Over his knee once more she had to go, a blubbering trouserless scarlet-bottomed girl, now shamefully wetting herself in fright at the the next stage of the proceedings.
Having to put on those silly ridiculous pyjamas was bad enough. But then to undergo the ordeal of offering a nakedly-ashamed well-spanked bottom for further punishment - well that was just too much even for the bravest of brave girls!
Her shrill cries and demented sobs acted as an erotic undertone to the loud reverberating impacts of his hand on her bare bottom. He gave her another good dose of searing spanks to the ripe extremities of her bottom-cheeks before turning his attention to the darkly sensual cleft that divided them.....
This momentarily stunned her into shocked silence, but she soon let him know at the top of her lungs how she felt about this vulgar and unprecedented intrusion into her most private girlish intimacy.
It had never occurred to her, even in her darkest fantasies, that he'd dare to spank her there! Oh how awful it was, how indescribably blush-making to feel his palm lightly punishing her most secret sensitive parts, the tips of his fingers sliding into her slippery wetness - making her come noisily and against her will!
Would she ever be able to look him in the eye again?
Outside in the balmy stillness a young soldier home on leave, out on an evening stroll with his sweetheart to avoid the prying eyes of the village, had led her into the sanctuary of the garden and they were embracing against the wall of the house directly below the open dormitory window. They had overheard every resonant smack, every wailing cry of girlish distress issuing from the upstairs room.
The woman felt acutely embarrassed, indignant too, that such things could happen. It reminded her unconsciously of those occasions when her father had taken his belt to her.
But the soldier was intrigued and spellbound by the sounds of the girl being punished and he put his finger to his lips to silence the woman's urgent pleas that they remove themselves to a more secluded spot.
So galvanised with lust was he by the erotic soundtrack of fleshy slaps and shrill orgasmic screams coming from above their heads that he suddenly pinned his startled girlfriend against the wall, hoisted her skirt, wrenched aside the gusset of her knickers and penetrated her brusquely, savagely.
Despite her stifled cries of indignation it thrilled him to discover that she was wet and ready, in a high state of arousal.
Long after the lovers had departed, sated yet puzzled and embarrassed by what had triggered off their frantic coupling, the soundly spanked girl alone in the dark dormitory, tossed and turned, sore and restless, in her bed - trying vainly to blot out the shameful memory of what he had done to her.
Lennox was kept quite busy during those first few weeks, looking after little Daisy. She remained his favourite even after pretty girls like Jane, Pamela, Jacqueline, Susan and Penelope arrived - though of course that meant he had less time for Daisy than before.
But it all changed with the arrival of Christine, with those intense grey-green eyes and defiantly sulky good looks, and whose carnal appetites, Lennox soon discovered, entirely matched his own. With her exquisitely soft yet firm bottom she became the perfect victim - and a willing one at that!
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