Amanda and the Punishment chair – Part 2

Amanda has another meeting with Fiona’s ladies

by Frances Stephenson

Amanda woke early the next morning and decided to have a brief time to herself and to think about the day ahead. She remembered she had invited Fiona Fairchild and her husband to dinner that night. She had already planned the menu and all three courses and the cheese board were set out neatly in her fridge. There was really nothing for her to do other than the normal housewifely chores so she fell into a reverie thinking about her relationship with the commanding Fiona. She wondered, briefly, what Fiona’s husband would be like and, more importantly, had she told him about the recent escapade where Amanda had been severely slippered by Fiona in front of four or five of her lady guests. Although very painful, the slippering had been strangely satisfying and Amanda’s bottom was still warm and quite sore when she climbed into bed with her husband that evening.

Amanda was well aware that Fiona would suggest further meetings along the lines that she had just undergone, but was in no doubt that, sooner or later, she would be getting the cane. She knew Fiona and was in no doubt that she would be in for a painful session when this implement was bought into play.

Fiona had always been severe with her at school and Amanda had noticed that her eyes were often drawn to Amanda’s delicious bottom. Amanda thought about the forthcoming scenario and was aware of an undercurrent of excited fear.

The day wore on and Amanda busied herself with the final details of her dinner party having made sure that there was plenty of wine in reserve, she mentally ticked off various things she had to do but everything was as it should be and she was ready by 6.15 with her guests due to arrive at 7 o’clock. John came in and opened a bottle of white wine and they both sipped their wine and chatted waiting for the evening to unfold.

Fiona and her husband, David, soon arrived and the four of them settled down to a convivial evening. Fiona was looking particularly attractive in a gunmetal blue silk suit which showed off her rather glacial eyes to great effect, her hair was quite dark but not black and dressed in a rather severe style. There could be no doubt that Fiona was a very elegant and rather aristocratic lady who was clearly used to getting her own way in almost everything. Her husband David was quite a tall well built man with twinkling brown eyes and a good sense of humour. Amanda’s husband John was obviously enjoying the company and was joining in the conversation as though he had been friends of the newly arrived couple for many years.

The initial bottle of white wine had long been finished and the second bottle washed down the smoked salmon in a most satisfactory manner. Almost inevitably, it seemed to Amanda, the conversation turned to their school days and Fiona made a great play of the fact that she had been senior to Amanda and had done her level best ‘to keep her under control’.

“Mind you,” she said. “It was no easy task. Amanda was for ever getting into scrapes and almost perpetually on the punishment rota. I don’t whether you know this, John, but she was known as the girl with the most spankable bottom and was for ever being ordered to bend over a chair or over some prefects knee to have her bottom well and truly warmed.

“The number one slipper which we used in the Prefects Common Room was called ‘Bigfoot’ for obvious reasons and all girls dreaded a meeting with it. The sole was so large that it all but covered all naughty girls bottoms with a resounding crack; I never used it without making the girl squeal at least once and very probably more.

“I did acquire the trusty Bigfoot when I left school and I keep it nice and safe at home. I mention this because David has only had an occasion to use it on my deserving bottom twice in the last nine months.”

“Fiona, I did tell John you had used Bigfoot on me two weeks ago and that it had lost none of its power and still stung like mad,” admitted Amanda.

“I do hope John has a similar instrument which he uses on your delightful bottom, Amanda,” said Fiona with an arch look. “I think all lady’s bottoms deserve to be warmed with some application but yours, my dear, should be seen to with greater regularity.” Fiona laughed and glanced at John in a meaningful way.

John reassured Fiona that he attends to Amanda’s bottom with some degree of regularity and then turned the conversation around to his recent purchase of the Victorian punishment chair. Predictably Fiona was fascinated and asked for a demonstration.

John was somewhat reluctant but was encouraged when Amanda said she was willing to take up the required stance. She was wearing thin yellow trousers and had no doubt that this material would soon be stretched drum tight and show off her bottom to great advantage.

John locked her in position and was, as always, entranced by the site of his wife’s lovely bottom presented in the archetypal way. David too, it seemed, was appreciative and his cheerful face has become more red, indicating his appreciation. Fiona looked very switched on and was breathing more rapidly with her mouth slightly open showing her pearly white teeth.

“Please John,” said Fiona. “Amanda looks so adorable in that position, it quite takes me back to our school days; if you don’t mind I would very much like to give Amanda a light caning. I’m sure she would not mind and it would set the seal on a perfectly splendid evening.”

“Here is a light cane, Fiona,” said John. “Please go ahead but please make it a light swishing and not more than eight strokes, please.”

Her eyes alight with pleasure, Fiona picked up the whippy rattan and proceeded to use it on Amanda’s delectable bottom. Apart from a few light gasps, Amanda remained silent. Much to Fiona’s regret, the eight strokes were soon completed and she took one last lingering look at Amanda’s bottom before John released her from the chair and helped her to her feet.

Everyone was loud in their congratulations and thanked Amanda for providing such a splendid centrepiece. The evening drew to a close and Fiona and David left after thanking John and Amanda for a splendid evening.

“I will be phoning, you probably tomorrow,” was Fiona’s parting shot and Amanda found time to wonder whether she was cooking up yet another one of her schemes.

The next morning, as promised, Fiona telephoned Amanda and asked her whether she would be prepared to have her bottom smacked at one of Fiona’s impromptu parties. The request did not come entirely unexpectedly and Amanda had been almost ready for it. She felt the butterflies start in her stomach and she was breathing rather more deeply. It was a familiar feeling of excitement mixed with fear as she had no doubt that Fiona had a programme which would involve Amanda ending up with a hot and sore bottom.

An odd little smile hovered around Amanda’s mouth as she heard herself agreeing to this invitation from Fiona.

“Come around at about 11 o’clock next Tuesday,” said Fiona. “Don’t forget to wear a skirt as you don’t want to struggle getting on a pair of tight trousers, do you?”

Amanda had plenty of time to prepare herself for the meeting at Fiona’s and on the Tuesday morning she dressed with care and put on a pair of thin light blue knickers and a short blue skirt. She put on a cream coloured fitted blouse; it was quite short and ended at her waist.

‘I don’t want it getting in the way when I bend over,’ she thought.

A pair of medium heeled grey shoes completed the outfit and she set off on the short walk to Fiona’s house in an excited frame of mind.

Fiona welcomed her with obvious pleasure and ushered her into the Drawing Room where five ladies were already assembled and talking amongst themselves.

“Ladies,” said Fiona. “Here is Amanda whom we used to call Amanda Dusky Pink at school. She is no stranger to corporal punishment and has kindly agreed to have her bottom smacked in front of you and for your pleasure this morning.

“Amanda, would you kindly remove your skirt and circulate amongst these ladies who I’m sure have many questions they would like to ask you. I would like you to circulate in your knickers as I would quite like you to feel extra vulnerable and it would also afford these could ladies an excellent view of your splendid bottom.”

Amanda duly removed her skirt and looked about her. She did not have long to wait as familiar looking women came over and talked to her. She remembered their names, which were Mary and Jen, and both ladies were alight with curiosity.

Jen reached down and gently stroked Amanda’s bottom. “It’s absolutely fabulous, Mary,” enthused Jen. “So soft and perfectly shaped; are you prepared to have your bottom well smacked again, my dear?” She asked Amanda.

“Oh yes, madam,” said Amanda. “I don’t know what implement Fiona intends to use on me but I can be very sure that I will be in for a good hiding.”

“I don’t know how you do it, my dear,” said Mary, her attractive face alight with curiosity and lust.

Fiona arrived on the scene carrying a 3 foot whippy yellow cane.

“I think I should be able to make young Amanda really jump when I use this on her pretty bottom,” she said to the assembled company.

There were sounds of appreciation from all of the ladies who looked at the yellow cane with a mixture of respect and fear.

“Right Dusky, come over here,” ordered Fiona. “I think we are all anxious to get started. Now take your knickers off, please, and bend over the back of this chair just like you did last time.”

There was a murmur of appreciation from the ladies as Amanda’s bottom was now shown, naked, in all its glory. For her own part, Amanda was extremely nervous and almost consumed with the delicious fear the prospect of a caning always gave her.

Fiona took up her position to the left of Amanda and swished her cane in a very purposeful manner. She was amused to see Amanda’s bottom flinch in the dread expectation of what was to come.

‘I will make her jump, you see if I don’t,’ she thought, but she did not want to be too severe because Amanda was going to be part of her longer term plans and did not want to put her off. It seemed quite important to strike a satisfactory balance between pain and pleasure. Notwithstanding this limiting factor, Fiona was still relishing the prospect of caning Amanda’s pretty bottom and she set about doing so with as much artistry and technique as she could. She swung the cane in a large arc finishing up in the centre of Amanda’s pale bottom and an immediate red stripe appeared and Amanda let out a gasp.

There was a perceptible heightening of interest amongst the interested lady observers now that the caning had started. There was one particular woman, probably in her late 40s, who had that indefinable and rather strict air of a retired teacher, probably a headmistress. Her rather severe face was certainly animated and she moved around a little in order to gain a better view of Amanda’s bottom.

Fiona was warming to her pleasurable task and was aware the caning she was giving was really quite firm. Amanda was squealing already and Fiona could see her hands were moving slightly on the chair instead of grasping it hard. Number three striped Amanda’s bottom and Fiona was pleased to see Amanda moving from side to side in an effort to absorb the pain. Fiona kept the last stroke quite low as she liked to think Amanda would have a sharp reminder every time she sat down, at least for a day or so. The fourth stroke landed and Amanda squealed loudly and after a few moments Fiona told her that she could get up.

Amanda did so and presented her red and tear-stained face to the assembled ladies. She also did a little dance as she often did in the hopes that it would dissipate the pain. In the event it provided the watching ladies with a good extra show.

Amanda remained where she was and Mary bought over a glass of champagne which she gratefully sipped.

“However painful, you managed it, Amanda,” said Jen. “Your bottom must hurt like mad.”

“Yes madam,” responded Amanda. “Fiona thrashed me harder than usual, it will be quite sore when I sit down for a few days, I expect.”

The rather stern-faced woman who looked as if she was a retired headteacher came over and engaged Amanda in conversation.

“You took quite a severe hiding very well, my dear,” she said. “Young Fiona seems able to wield a cane to great effect.”

“Yes madam, she certainly does,” responded Amanda. “I don’t think this session is yet over and I hope my poor bottom will be able to stand another onslaught.”

“I am sure you will be able to bear it,” said the woman. “My name is Miss Benton, by the way, and I was headmistress of St Ursula’s Girls School for over 20 years. We used to use the cane extensively and I became very proficient with it. I also came to recognise young girls who actively sought punishment. It seemed to fulfil a desire as if they needed to have their bottoms smacked. I think you are one of those girls but I must say I have never seen a girl accept such a sharp caning as you have just had and remained so calm after it. You interest me, Amanda, you really do.”

“I think we should round off this particular session, ladies,” said Fiona. “Dusky, come back here, would you? I haven’t finish with you yet.”

Amanda nervously moved back towards Fiona, fully aware that she would soon have another good hiding with Fiona’s painful cane.

“Just a moment, Fiona,” said a new voice, and Miss Benton came forward. “I assume you are going to cane Amanda again and I just wonder if it would be possible for me to cane her in your place. It is a long time since I last wielded a cane but I still feel I would have something to add to this particular session.”

Although Fiona looked somewhat surprised, she knew Miss Benton and her history and was in no doubt that if she agreed, young Amanda would be in for a very sore bottom indeed. A cruel smile came over her face and she handed the cane to Miss Benton and encouraged her to go ahead.

“I was going to give Amanda five strokes,” she said. “I’m sure you will be able to deliver them with style and dedication.”

Miss Benton thanked Fiona and took the cane and walked towards Amanda in a purposeful manner.

“Right, my dear, let’s see if I can make you jump,” she said to Amanda’s consternation. “I assume your bottom is tender, my dear?”

“Yes madam, indeed it is,” responded an increasingly anxious Amanda.

“Well we will have to see if I can add to that!” Said the severe looking Miss Benton.

Amanda realised the conversation was at an end and she bent over and presented her somewhat sore bottom ready for Miss Benton’s ministrations.

The first stroke landed with a whistling crack and Amanda cried out; it was much harder than the previous stroke she had suffered from Fiona and she wondered, fleetingly, how she would bear the next four. She was soon to know!

Miss Benton had got her eye in and delivered the next two strokes which were hard and truly painful. Amanda was squealing loudly at each one, her hips were urgent motion as she strove to contain the pain. The last two strokes resulted in very sharp squeals of pain and Amanda leapt to her feet clasping her tortured bottom.

“I did not tell you you can get up, Amanda,” admonished Miss Benton. “In the normal course of events, you would now qualify for one or maybe two penalty strokes, but I think you have had a sufficient thrashing and I will let you off this once.”

“Oh thank you, Miss Benton, thank you so very much,” mumbled a weeping and contrite Amanda, realising that she had only just escaped a further caning.

It took quite a few minutes for Amanda to compose herself and then she reached for her skirt. She thought it was long enough to satisfactorily cover her bottom as she did not want to put her knickers on at the moment. Fiona came over and congratulated her on yet another good session.

“Everybody really enjoyed it,” she gushed and moved off.

Miss Benton then came over and added her congratulations with the added comment that she’d enjoyed herself immensely.

“That’s certainly got some of the fidgets out of my system,” she said. “I would like to phone you at some stage and perhaps we could have a cup of coffee or something.”

There was something about her that Amanda liked, notwithstanding the fact that her bottom was still throbbing from this woman’s ministrations and, bearing in mind the fact that she could always opt out of any arrangement, she gave her telephone number to this rather stern faced woman, without question.

Amanda then took her leave and started to walk down the hill to her home. Her bottom felt hot and sore, in fact rather more sore that it had almost ever been. She was walking stiffly and somewhat painfully but she was aware that she was really quite stimulated. Her thoughts turned to the hard faced Miss Benton and she became rather fearful but this only seemed to add to her already aroused condition.

The End

© Frances Stephenson 2014