Caroline ‘Caro’ Mossley: Part I

A chance encounter links two people with similar tastes. First of a small series.

By Steve Williams

It was on a beautiful sunny May day on the naturist part of Knoll beach, Studland, Dorset.

Caro was lying on her tummy on an almost deserted beach, stark naked, soaking up the sun’s blazing rays, reading a book and making notes on an Apple iPad computer. She had been lying there for just under an hour when she decided that a cup of tea was called for. Putting all her things into her large shoulder bag she strolled the thirty yards or so to the Snack Shack parked in the middle of the beach.

There was a small queue of four people, all but one being naked. There was a couple, in their fifties thought Caro, who had obviously been somewhere sunny over the winter since they both had all-over golden tans. They were at the front of the queue and while the gentleman was ordering their food and drink the lady gave Caro a beaming, welcoming smile.

Next was a gentleman who also had a fine tan, which was either the product of many sunbed sessions or he too had wintered in the sun. He was tall, well-built, a little older than the couple at the front of the queue, maybe just into his sixties, late fifties at least. He turned as he saw the lady in front smile at someone and gave Caro a beaming smile, showing brilliant, white and straight teeth.

The only other person in the queue was a young chap who had on a brief pair of swimming trunks. Caro thought this might be his first day since he was a very pale shade of white.

It wasn’t long before Caro was ordering herself a cup of tea and packet of crisps. She went back to where she had been lying before and once again stretched out, drank her tea and opened her crisps. She was about halfway through her tea when a shadow came over her.

She looked up and saw it was the distinguished gentleman from the queue.

“Excuse me my dear,” he said in a beautifully modulated voice, “But may I be so bold as to ask who did that to your lovely bottom?”

“Did what Sir?” Answered Caro, automatically adding the ‘sir’ in response to his bearing and the authority he oozed.

“Smacked your bottom. It is quite pink, you know, and not from the sun I imagine.”

“Oh! I thought it would have faded and gone by now,” said a very embarrassed Caro.

“May I sit with you?” He asked.

“Certainly Sir.” She replied somewhat nervously. “My name is Caro Mossley. Caro is short for Caroline.”

He rolled out a towel and sat down, careful not to obscure the sun from Caro’s body.

She appreciated his consideration, and at once felt more relaxed.

“I am Peter Phillips. Do you live locally? Oh, and please call me Peter, Caro.”

“In Westbourne, Peter. And you?”

“I live in Poole, Caro. Backing onto Poole Park.”

“Oh! One of those mansion flats?” She asked, thinking he must be loaded.

“No! I have a detached house.”

“What a lovely location. I have a very nice penthouse flat between Westbourne and Alum Chine but sometimes think that I would like to either front the beach or have a garden of my own where I could sunbathe like this.”

“I could make my garden more secluded I suppose but to be honest I like the company I find down here. Most people are very pleasant. The objectionable ones get short shrift from me, I can tell you,” he said.

“I came here a few times last year, but it is different for a single girl I think.”

“Yes! I am sure it is. Now to my very first question! Will you tell me how your bottom got like that?”

“It is actually quite a long story, Peter, but in a nutshell I got slippered after our last hockey match on Saturday, and then got a round-robin spanking yesterday at our end of season party.”

“Who slippered you and why, Caro?” Asked an incredulous Peter.

“My team captain, Peter. I was voted worst player on the day, so my reward was six of the best from the skipper on my bare bottom in the changing room.”

“Wow! Well she did a good job. A slippering should disappear in a few hours of so. What is this round-robin spanking?” He asked as he lay on his tummy and wriggled a bit to get comfortable.

“Well Sunday evening we had our end of season party at the hockey club. It is in Queens Park, Bournemouth. Do you know it?”

“Near the Golf Course?” He asked.

“Yes Peter! Our pitches back onto the course in places. Anyway we have a number of prizes. I should just mention that after each game, in the dressing room, each player votes for the best and worst player on the day. It is very democratic with proper forms and a ballot box. The captain announces the results there and then. Each team does this after every game. The best player gets a voucher for a pitcher of beer and the worst player touches her toes in the middle of the changing room and gets six of the best on her bare bottom from the skipper with a size twelve plimsoll. It does sting, I can tell you.

“So on Party night the team captains announce, for each team, who overall is their best and worst player for the season. The best player gets a fifty pound voucher for a sports shop in Parkstone. The owner’s wife is, or should I say, was a player. The worst, however, has to go across the lap of each member of that team and get spanked, finishing off with the captain. I was the worst player over the season.”

“What team do you play for Caro?”

“St Cuthberta Old Girls, Peter.”

“I know of St Cuthberta School. It is just outside Bournemouth isn’t it?”

“Yes Peter. It was and is a very, very good school. Excellent academically and also sports-wise.”

“Did you go there Caro? I imagine that you did,” he asked.

“Yes Peter, but all that is part of the overall story, and as I said is a very long tale indeed.”

“I know we have only just met and I am considerably older than you, but would you allow me to take you to dinner? I find your tale so very interesting.”

“Is there no Mrs Phillips, Peter? I do not ever get involved with married men. Maybe that is why I am still single at the ripe old age of thirty-eight.”

“I am a widower, Caro. I was married for thirty years to Marion who unfortunately passed away from cancer two years ago. I have a daughter who is twenty-nine now and is married and living in California. We see each other two or three times a year. I was in California over Christmas and New Year, and then went to Antigua for two months, hence the tan.”

“I did wonder,” said Caro. “And yes I would love to have dinner with you Peter and I will tell you more of my life story and perhaps you could tell me some of yours.”

“Thank you very much Caro. I will tell you anything you like. I have no secrets. You will find I am a very open person,” he said.

“OK! Well, you seem to know a lot about spanking girls’ bottoms and didn’t seem shocked at what happened at the Hockey Club. Want to explain?”

“Sure Caro. You are spot on. Marion and I enjoyed spanking. Sometimes she would tease me to spank her and sometimes it was a punishment but I must add she always agreed that she deserved it. We both spanked, and in fact caned, my daughter and she holds no grudge. I think her husband spanks her now. So as soon as I saw that tell-tale pinkness I knew you had been spanked. Most other people would have just put it down to the sun. But there is a difference, if you know what to look at.”

“I thought nobody would notice and, as you say, put it down to the sun,” said Caro.

They lay beside each other and soaked up the sun until, at about four o’clock when some clouds started to block out the sun and it got quite chilly, Peter stood up and wrapped a towel around himself.

“Come on Caro! You have goose bumps on your bottom.”

She stood and pulled on a beautiful silk sarong that hugged the curves of her body.

“Goose bumps are a bad memory for me Peter. The only time I am aware of getting them was when standing in line outside the Head’s office at school knowing that I was going to get beaten.”

“I would have thought the cane would have been banned when you were at school Caro.”

“Yes, well, St Cuthberta’s got some kind of exemption. Parents had to give written authority for the school to administer whatever punishment they felt appropriate. No signed authority and the pupil couldn’t be caned. I didn’t know of one girl who didn’t have that authority. My dad even demanded that he be notified, after the event, if the Head had cause to beat me.”

“What did he do then?” Asked a very inquisitive Peter.

“My father was a General and was often based abroad, which is why I was sent to St Cuthberta’s. He was a very kind man, but was also a disciplinarian. My brother and I were no strangers to his study and such a visit always meant a caning. No exceptions.”

“Is your father still alive Caro?” He asked.

“No Peter. My dad and my brother were killed in a car crash in Serbia ten years ago. My mother never recovered, turned to alcohol, and passed away just a year later.”

“Oh! I am sorry Caro,” he said.

“It’s OK Peter. I have been alone now for nine or ten years, and have thrown myself into my work and my hockey.”

“What is your work?” He asked

“I am head of fund raising for the largest children’s charity in the UK.”

“Wow! That is a very demanding job isn’t it?”

“Yes, but with very flexible hours. I love it. Lots of travel as well. And what do you do? Or are you retired?” Caro asked Peter as they strolled along the beach towards the Shell Bay car park.

“I am a self employed fund manager for a large Asset Management Company. Like you, I have a lot of freedom about when and how hard I work. Like this winter when I was gone for two months.”

“I have to go to London most Mondays, though not today, for a management meeting but that is the limit of my fixed timetable,” she said.

“I have a study set up at home but go to London quite often, not always needed I must admit, but I like London and I get to meet a lot of friends.” Said Peter as they clambered over the sand dunes into the car park.

“Where’s your car Caro.?” Asked Peter.

“I come on the bus Peter. It goes right past my flat.”

“Can I give you a lift?” He asked.

Caro stood up on her toes and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“Yes, thank you,” she said. “And if you are good you can come up for a coffee.” She chuckled as she said it.

“And if you are not good I will spank some more colour into your bottom,” responded Peter with a big grin on his face. Caro rubbed her bottom and grimaced as she got into Peter’s Jaguar convertible.

They queued up for the Sandbanks chain ferry, discussing where to go for dinner. They decided to go to the Prezzo Italian restaurant in Poole so Peter suggested that Caro get ready straight away and then go with him to his house in Poole, where he could shower and change, and then go on to dinner. He used the car phone to book a table and asked them to put a bottle of champagne on ice.

Caro thought that this was too good to be true, so when she got to her flat she made an excuse to Peter to check her emails and while doing so googled Peter Phillips, fund manager.

Up came a page with a picture of Peter but rather than just a Financial Adviser he was listed as a Partner in the firm which had assets of several billion pounds. That was an eye opener.

She went and showered and while there Peter wandered round the flat looking at pictures of the St Cuthberta’s School and Old Girls hockey teams. His eye was attracted to her laptop screen and when he looked was greeted with a picture of himself. He was a little aggrieved that she hadn’t trusted him. He would put it straight to her when she came from the shower.

She went straight from the shower to the kitchen from where she called: “How do you take your coffee Peter?”

“White please. Shall I come and get it.”

“You can if you like. Just come on through,” she said.

He walked into the kitchen and said: “Do you trust me Caro?”

“Yes of course, Peter. Why?”

“Well I told you who I am, what I do and where I live. Why did you google me? Did you not trust me?”

“I am sorry Peter. I should have trusted you or I shouldn’t have asked you up here should I?”

“No you shouldn’t. I think you deserve a spanking, young lady.”

“Oh no! Please Peter, you saw my bottom.”

“Oh yes I did, Caro, and a very nice bottom it is too. I think a warming up and a bit more colour is called for. Where shall we do it?”

“How about your study?” She said, trying to put things off.

“No, I think it needs to be done now. Lounge, kitchen or bedroom?” He said with a big smile.

“I think bedroom would be very dangerous. I have an unwritten rule that I never go to bed with a man until I know him very well and I do not know you very well. So lounge?” She questioned.

Peter took her by the hand and led her to the couch where, in one motion that suggested much practice, he sat down on the couch and pulled Caro across his lap. By luck, her towel fell away as she went across his knee.

He tugged her a bit further over so that the apex of her bottom was pointed upwards, then thwack, his hand landed with a crack on her left cheek. Caro yelped and wriggled. Peter rubbed her cheek and then ‘crack’, his hand slapped down onto her right cheek and his handprint stood out as a pink blob. She yelped and wriggled. He rubbed her cheeks again and said: “Do you make this much fuss at the Hockey Club, Caro?”

“No Peter, but they don’t whack this hard.”

“What about the slipper?” He asked.

“That’s different,” she said.

“Is that the worst you get?” He asked as he landed two more slaps on her cheeks and continued rubbing.

“No!” She said.

Smack, smack, smack, smack!

“Ouch, Ouch. Owwwww, help.” She yelled.

“Don’t be such a baby, Caro. Now what is worse, eh?”

“The cane from Sister Sophia,” she said.

Smack, smack, smack,smack.

“Owwwww!” She squealed as he continued to spank and rub her bottom.

“Who is Sister Sophia? And I want more details about the cane.”

Slap, slap,slap,slap.

“Owwwwwww! Please, it is a long story. Let me tell you about it over dinner please.”

“OK! Up you get Caro. Go and get dressed and we will go to my house where I can get changed. Get a move on,” he said as he gave her a parting slap. She stopped at her bedroom door, turned her head to him and stuck her tongue out. She rushed into her bedroom and slammed the door. Peter was collapsed on the couch bursting with laughter. What a terrific girl, he thought.

When she came out of her bedroom she was dressed in a pair of tight grey check trousers which hugged her bottom tightly. She was wearing a black diaphanous blouse and a simple plain necklace. She twirled round and Peter could see no VPL. Was she not wearing underwear, or, maybe a thong?

He stood up and hugged her.

“You look lovely, Caro. Very sophisticated. Though I might say those trousers are a little on the tight side.”

“That’s only because you made my bum swell with that spanking,” she said with a big grin on her face.

“Let’s go then,” said Peter.

They left her flat, got in his car and drove to Peter’s magnificent house in Poole, just a ten minute drive from Caro’s flat. Peter showed her in and she gasped at the beauty of the place. Everything reeked class; pictures on the wall, she reckoned, cost thousands of pounds. He led her upstairs and showed her the four double bedrooms each with its own en-suite bathroom, and then downstairs to show the kitchen which, like everything else, was magnificent.

Then the piece-de-resistance, the lounge. This was a huge room with a massive plasma television mounted on the wall. There were no trailing cables. Everything was discreetly concealed giving an impression of huge space. Seating was on either a three seater settee or in individual leather armchairs that reclined until they were almost a bed.

There was a conservatory off the lounge that led to an immaculate lawned garden. Then finally Peter took her back into the hall and on the opposite side to the lounge opened a dark wood panelled door. It looked pretty thick to Carlo. He ushered her in and it was a fully equipped office with the centrepiece being a large mahogany desk. The desk top was completely clear apart from a telephone and a computer screen. The floor covering was a thick, rich blue carpet.

Caro gasped and rubbed her bottom as she envisaged herself bent across the desk while Peter applied a cane to her trouser seat six times.

Peter guessed, correctly, what she was thinking. He would have to see how he could get her in that position. Not tonight, he thought. Better not to rush things too much.

Caro turned fairly quickly and crossed back into the lounge. Peter chuckled as he followed her into the centre of the lounge.

“Can I get you a drink while I am getting ready?” He asked.

“A glass of dry white wine would be lovely, please.” She said.

Peter went to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and poured a large glass of ice cold dry white wine.

He returned, gave her the drink and said: “Anything else before I go and change?”

“An ice pack for my bottom might be appropriate,” she said laughingly.

Peter went upstairs and Caro investigated the lounge in a bit more detail. She went through his bookcase and was surprised to find a range of autobiographies about the various pop stars; The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Eric Clapton and the like.

She really wanted another look at the study, but chickened out when she heard Peter moving about upstairs. She didn’t want to be caught nosing about in the study in case it ended with her bent across the desk for a taste of his cane. She wasn’t ready to trust him that far.

While she was thinking about how far to trust him he came quietly down the stairs. He was dressed casually but in clothes that Caro reckoned cost a lot of money.

“How about a walk round the Quay before dinner?” He asked.

“Sounds ideal. It’s a lovely evening after all,” she replied enthusiastically.

They walked from Peter’s house into Poole Park and across to Baiter Park, and then the Quay. They didn’t talk much; they were both wondering how far this was likely to go.

When they got to Poole Quay they were still half an hour early for the restaurant so they sat outside the Nelson public house and had a cooling lager each. They were deep in conversation when a voice called: “Caro! Is that you?”

Caro looked up and saw a familiar face on the other side of the road. The lady concerned was waving like mad and trying to cross the busy road.

“Who’s that?” Asked Peter.

“That is Jenny Wilson, my Hockey captain.”

“Oh the one with the size twelve slipper?”

“Yep! The one and same. She is a good friend really. I will introduce you if I may?”

“Yes Caro. I’d love to meet the lady that put a blush on your bottom. That was the catalyst that drew me to you.”

“Caro! What a lovely surprise.” Jenny said this to Caro, but her eyes were on Peter all the time.

“Jenny this is a friend of mine, Peter. Peter, Jenny.” Said a very proud Caro. “We are just having a quick drink before dinner. What are you doing down here?”

“Caro, I can’t tell you all the gory details but I have been summoned to school to see Sister Sophia. I think I am in trouble, but don’t know why or what. I was summoned as skipper of the second team and I don’t think anyone else is going.” Jenny said. She then rubbed her bottom and, smiling at Caro, said: “I’d better get along. Wouldn’t do to be late would it?”

“No! Jenny, let me know what occurs.”

“Will do. Give you a ring tomorrow. OK?”

“Yes thanks, and good luck,” said Caro.

When Jenny had gone Peter said: “What was all that about?”

“That will become clear when I tell you about the background that I promised you. Over Dinner I think,” she said determinedly. “All will be clear.”

Peter took her hand and they strolled along the waterfront hand in hand until they came to Prezzo’s. As they entered, a gorgeous young lady approached and said: “Hello Mr Phillips. So nice to see you again. Have you booked?”

“Yes, Mandy. My usual table please, and can you bring the champers straight away, please.”

“Yes Sir. Please follow me.”

Mandy walked with a pronounced wriggle and her tight little shorts showed her bottom to its best.

Caro was not particularly impressed, especially since Mandy had all but ignored her and come on strong to Peter.

When they were seated, with Peter holding Caro’s seat for her and being the perfect gentleman, Mandy returned with the Champagne.

“Thank you Mandy! I’ll pour when it has settled,” said Peter.

Mandy said a server would be with them shortly.

“You are a regular here then Peter,” said Caro with an inquisitive look on her face.

“Yes. For years. Marion and I loved it here with the view across the quay and the harbour.”

“And more recently?”

“Not so much Caro. A few business meetings but I don’t get out for a social meal all that often. That is why I am so delighted that I asked you on the beach. I know what you have been thinking, and all I can say is that Mandy would look great spread across my desk while I give her six of the best.”

“Peter! If you wanted to cane every lady that tried to impress you your desk would be permanently littered with bottoms wanting to be caned. I suppose you might like that!”

“I like to make such decisions, not have them thrust down my throat.”

“Oops! Sorry Peter.” Said Caro, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed.

“Now start the story from the beginning Caro,” said Peter as he poured two glasses of bubbly.

“Well my time at St Cuthberta’s started when I was eleven years of age. I had been at a local primary school in Poole but Daddy got promoted, and his first posting as a Brigadier was to Aden. This was not a good place for a little girl, so St Cuthberta’s it was.

“The Headmistress then was Sister Joseph. She was both a very kind lady and a fierce disciplinarian. She had her rules and you obeyed them or else.”

“What do you mean ‘or else’, and what sort of rules?” Interrupted Peter.

“Well there were quite a lot of rules but most were obvious. No smoking or alcohol, not to leave school without permission, no running in corridors, always stand up when a mistress enters the room and so on. Then there were rules such as bringing the school into disrepute, gross disobedience, not doing homework, or being consistently late for classes or meals.

“As for the ‘or else’, well minor infringements could be dealt with in class. All mistresses used corporal punishment of some sort. We had a Scottish teacher who had a tawse and if she used it, it was nearly always on the hand. Just occasionally on your bottom. Others used the slipper mostly and that was on your knickers; regulation, of course.

“Non-classroom or persistent breaking of rules meant a visit to Sister Joseph or her deputy. That almost certainly meant a caning, always on your bottom.”

“Christ that was a severe routine. Did you get whacked often?” He asked.

“We all did Peter, at least as a classroom punishment. I was also often on the carpet with Sister Joseph, but was nowhere near the most frequent visitor. I got a little more than average but not much. It was strict; end of.”

They ordered; both having steaks, medium rare. They had a lot in common.

“So describe a typical visit you made to Sister Joseph.”

“Well I vividly remember my first visit. Sally Vincent and I were caught smoking behind the sports pavilion. We didn’t know there was an office there where Sister Sophia did her team selections and contacted other schools. She saw our ciggie smoke blowing up past her window and that was that. She took us by an ear each and marched us to Sister Joseph’s study. She left us stood outside and went in.

She was in there for about ten minutes and the waiting was awful. We both knew we were going to get caned for the first time. We were called into her study and Sister Sophia tucked our skirts into the waistband and slapped the back of our legs. Christ it stung. But then Sister Joseph said we would be caned before going to bed. We had to report back at eight pm. Junior girls like us had to be in bed by eight thirty. That meant we had two hours of waiting. You know some people say the anticipation is the worst part but I don’t agree with that Peter.”

“I’ve heard that but while waiting might be awful I am sure the sting of the cane lasts for quite a while.”

“Anyway we had to wait. I don’t know how, but everyone seemed to know we were going to be caned and we were teased mercilessly. But we didn’t dare retaliate. We would really have been for it then. So at eight o’clock we knocked on Sister Joseph’s door. We were called in together. I had hoped to be seen to separately so Sally wouldn’t see me cry.”

“How long had you been at the school, Caro?”

“One month Peter. We were the first of our intake to visit Sister Joseph. Anyway to continue. We got a lecture and then Sally was told to face the wall with her hands on her head. Her skirt was tucked into her waistband I was told to bend over and touch my toes. She folded back my skirt, tucking it into my waistband and pulled down my panties. Regulation navy blues, before you ask,” Caro said with a big grin.

She took a gulp of Champagne and Peter topped up her glass.

“I was told I was getting six strokes and was reminded of the punishment rules.”

“What were the punishment rules Caro?” Peter asked.

“No moving from position. No swearing when hit. If told to count do so and then say ‘thank you miss’. Do exactly as you are told. Break the rules and there will be extra strokes.”

“So did you break the rules?”

“Not that time. Anyway to continue! Sister Joseph came round to the front of me and showed me the cane I was going to get. It was horribly thin and whippy. I later found out that this was the junior cane and was only used on first year students. She went round behind me and tapped my trembling bottom with the cane. I squealed even with just the little taps she was giving and she told me in no uncertain terms not to be such a baby. I shut up. I was scared stiff.

“Then I knew what was coming; the taps stopped. I saw between my legs her weight shift. Then, Thwack! The cane arrived near the top of my bottom. Christ it hurt! I had been whacked at home by Daddy but never like that. I think Dad took pity on his little girl. I yelled out loud but stoically stayed in position. I was desperately trying not to cry but when the second stroke landed at the bottom of my bottom, just above the thighs I couldn’t hold back and in addition to a loud yell the waterworks opened. Afterwards I realised that she was marking out the boundaries of where she was going to hit.

“Sally must have turned to look because Sister Joseph walked over and slapped her across the back of her thighs about ten times. Sally was howling. You know Sister Joseph is only a little lady but goodness she could spank and cane. Lots of practice, I suppose.”

The waiter approached with the dinners.

They tucked in and by silent agreement the story would continue after the main course was finished. It was a very substantial steak they were served and after that they could not face a desert.

Peter ordered coffee for two with some sweet biscuits and Caro continued her story.

“Where was I?”

“You’d just had the second stroke and burst into tears and Sally got slapped,” said Peter.

“OK. Sister Joseph came back to me and actually apologised for the delay. I couldn’t help but think if I had delayed the punishment I would be getting extra strokes. Maybe I should get a discount because she delayed the punishment. Anyway she promptly whacked in another. It was awful. You hear the swish of the cane cutting through the air and an impact but the real pain sinks in a few seconds later. Oh how I cried out and tears streamed down. I had never felt anything like it Peter. Even now it makes my bottom shudder to think of it.

“The next three strokes sort of blurred into one mass of pain. I yelled like a baby but in school terms I was a baby. I just stayed bending over, too scared to stand until Sister Joseph showed the tender side of her nature by helping me up and giving me a bunch of tissues. She took my hands away from my bottom saying gently that that was not allowed. She told me to change places with Sally and to remember to keep my hands on my head. My bottom was so sore I would do nothing to risk any more punishment.

“I heard Sally gasp as she saw the full damage that whippy little cane had done. I heard every whack; first the swish, then the impact, and then the scream from Sally. I think she made more noise than me but that might not be right. We were both stood facing sister Joseph and read the riot act. She also showed us her other canes and told us how lucky we were only to get the junior cane. I didn’t think lucky was a very good word.

“While we were being lectured there was knock on the study door.

“‘Enter’ called Sister Joseph and Sister Sophia came in.

“Apparently she was on dormitory patrol that night and was to take us back to our dorm. As expected we thanked, through our sobs, Sister Joseph. I said it through gritted teeth believe me. Then back in the dorm Sister Sophia made us change into our pyjamas and bend over the end of our beds with our bottoms bare. The rest of the dorm were told to look at what happened to naughty girls. Then we were put to bed. In a way we were heroines.”

“Oh Caro. It sounds excruciating. Look, shall we take our coffee on the terrace?”

“Oh, yes please Peter. This has been a lovely evening and just to relax outside is a real luxury for me, especially in such good company.”

Peter called the waiter and arranged for the coffee and biscuits to be served outside. He accompanied them towards the terrace and Caro noticed Mandy looking across at them, so she pronounced her wiggle sending her tightly clad bottom cheeks wobbling from side to side.

Peter led them to a table near the front of the terrace and their coffee arrived immediately.

“I saw that exaggerated wiggle young lady; directed to Mandy, no doubt?”

“Yes Peter. A bit naughty perhaps!” Replied Caro, nibbling at her lip.

”Naughty girls get spanked,” said Peter.

“What about Mandy then?” Asked Caro.

“If the chance came up she would get her bottom soundly whacked, don’t you worry.”

“And me?” Asked Caro.

“Well maybe that chance will come up sooner than you think young lady.” Said Peter with a beaming smile.

“Ooh! Sir,” she said.

Just at that moment Caro saw her friend Jenny coming down the Quay. She knew that Jenny lived in a flat overlooking the Quay but was not sure just where.

“Jenny!” Called Caro. “Come and join us for coffee.”

“Oh hi, Caro. I am not feeling very sociable at the moment, dear.”

“Oh! Go on Jen. Then you can tell us why you had to go to see the dear Sophia.”

“Oh! Alright! Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Peter got up, smiled at Caro, and opened the gate that led from the terrace to the Quay front. He pulled up a chair for Jenny and watched interestedly as she eased her bottom onto the seat. He summoned the waiter and ordered more coffee, this time for three, and more biscuits.

“So Jenny. Why?” Asked Caro.

“It’s partly your fault, dear. Apparently figures have been released today by the local hockey association that show St Cuthberta Old Girls second eleven were judged to be the team in the Old Girl’s league with the worst disciplinary record, and you dear Caro are the most booked player. You might yet get a call from Sophia.”

“Oh Shit!” Said Caro, getting a severe look from Peter.

“Sorry, but this could get very painful I fear. What happened to you Jenny?” Caro asked.

“I was, fortunately, the only person to see her. Couldn’t have stood having to queue up with a bunch of schoolkids. Anyway, she produced all the facts and figures and asked for an explanation. I didn’t have one really, and said so. She mentioned you, Caro, but I just stayed stum.”

“Well then what next?” Asked an eager Caro.

“She mentioned bringing the school into disrepute. You remember when we got pissed on that French trip?”

Caro nodded.

“Well, same thing. She asked me if there was any reason she shouldn’t give me the same as a sixth former would get. What could I say? So she said a sixth former, first offence, would get six on the bare with the senior cane but me, at twenty five and not a first offence, then it would be ten with the senior cane on the bare.”

“Oh! You poor thing! Was it really horrible?” Asked a frightened Caro, guessing that her turn would be coming.

“Yes Caro. I might as tell you the whole lot so you get it first hand, so to speak. Firstly I had to take my jeans off and take my knickers to my knees. Then as usual it was over her desk and ten really hard strokes. I was in tears but got no let up. You know how she builds a caning until the last one or two are the hardest. Well not only were they the hardest but the lowest, right where bum meets leg. Afterwards I was given half an hour to recover. Mind you this was interspersed with a lecture and I have to go back next week for, would you believe, inappropriate dress. She didn’t think Jeans were suitable for a schoolgirl caning even if, as I pointed out, I am no longer a schoolgirl.”

They finished their coffee in silence and then just as Jenny was getting ready to hobble the few yards home she said to Caro: “You will get a call you know.”

“I know,” said Caro. “But I won’t wear Jeans, that’s for sure. Maybe my hockey kit?”

“That should work Caro. OK. Night to you both and, Peter, don’t let this little madam get away with anything. Give her an inch and she’ll take a mile.” The last bit was said with a knowing smile.

When they were alone Peter paid the bill, took her hand and led her out onto the quayside and said: “Let’s get a cab back to my place. I can get you a cab later to take you to Westbourne.”

“OK Peter. This has been the best evening I’ve had for ages. Thank you so much.”

“The night isn’t over yet Caro,” said Peter.

They were soon back to Peter’s and he asked: “Do you have to be at work early tomorrow, Caro?”

“No Peter. I have some research to do, but nothing pressing.”

When they went in Peter went to the kitchen and put on a percolator of coffee. He returned to the lounge and said: “Well Caro. You are a naughty girl aren’t you?”

“Sometimes Peter. I apologise about taking the piss out of Mandy and winding her up but you must admit she had it coming.”

“Yes, but that and the bad language which is really unbecoming of you, together make me think a visit to my study wouldn’t be amiss. Do you?”

“What now?” She exclaimed.

“Would you rather we planned it for a later date so you could stew on it?”

“Well, no Peter,” she said.

“Come on then Miss,” he said, taking her by her hand and leading her reluctantly to the study.

“What am I going to get please?” Asked a contrite Caro.

“Tonight just a sound spanking, but next time you do something similar I will get my cane out of storage and have it suitably oiled.”

“Oiled?” Queried Caro.

“Yep! Makes them a little more supple and stingier.”

“Oooo! What now then?”

“I think those trousers had better come off. Don’t worry I have seen you naked remember.”

Caro undid her trousers and eased them off her bottom. Her little panties would offer no protection but Peter said: “Panties too, Caro.”

“Oh! Pig!” She said as she slipped them down off of her hips.

“That will earn you an extra punishment my girl, and this is going to be a bit harder than that little smacking you got at your flat.”

“Oh sorry, sir,” she said, reverting to the schoolgirl she felt.

Peter had an air about him of absolute authority. This was very disarming for a high flying business lady. Peter pulled out a chair, sat down and pulled a resisting Caro across his knee.

He started gently enough giving her a series of light slaps and rubbing her bottom in between. There was barely a squeak from Caro. As Peter stepped up the spanking there was still nothing from Caro apart from a few ‘ooos’ and ‘ahhhhs’.

“Doesn’t hurt,” she foolishly said.

“Oh! doesn’t it?” Said Peter. “Right, we will see about that.”

And then he started to spank her properly, bringing all his experience to bear. Now her bottom was reddening and the noises included some ouches and ooows at a somewhat louder volume. He still interrupted the spanks to rub her bottom. She quite enjoyed the rubbing.

Eventually she had some tears so he finished the spanking with a torrent of really hard spanks that brought a yell with every spank.

He helped her up and her hands shot to her bottom and rubbed furiously. Tears glistened in her eyes as he took her chin, turned her face up towards him and gave her a big smacker of a kiss and a cuddle. He felt her body respond positively.

“I am sorry that was so hard, Caro. It didn’t start out like that.”

“Peter! Don’t apologise. I asked for it, and if one is going to get spanked it might as well be a proper spanking, and I did call you a pig after all.”

“That did not include what I have in mind for you for calling me a pig, young lady.”

“Oh! I thought that was why you increased the intensity. So what do you have in mind?”

“I thought I would ring for a car to take you home, and come with you. I would ask the driver to wait and we would go straight to your bedroom where you would bend over the end of your bed and I would give you a dozen whacks with one of your trainers. Not size twelve but I bet I can set your bottom on fire. Then I will come back home and you will go to bed and shed a few tears knowing what a proper slippering is.”

“Oh! So you had it pretty well planned didn’t you? So why did you increase the spanking like you did?”

“Yes Caro. I had it planned alright. I remember seeing a pair of trainers in the lounge, and when you said so disdainfully that it didn’t hurt I thought I would teach you a lesson. And I did, didn’t I?”

“Oh Peter! Yes you did. Get that car ordered before I forget myself.”

Peter rang a limousine service that he had an account with, and apologised for the shortness of the trip. However, they said it was no problem to them especially for such a good customer. Ten minutes, he was told.

“What do you mean forget yourself, Caro?” He asked.

“I am not a promiscuous person Peter, and remember what I said earlier about getting to know someone.”

“I understand, and would be disappointed if you were that easy. That is not what I am looking for.”

Caro went to the bathroom to repair some of the damage to her make-up caused by tears falling. While there she looked in the medicine cabinet and saw just a selection of male lotions. No sign of any lady stuff. She was glad. It confirmed all he had told her.

The doorbell rang and they went down together to the waiting Mercedes. In no time at all the happy couple were at Caro’s flat. Peter told the driver to go and get a coffee, slipping him a tenner, and await a call for the pick-up to take him home.

Caro opened the front door to the foyer and they went up in the lift to the penthouse flat.

Caro kicked her shoes off and turned to Peter.

“Want a coffee or something stronger?” She asked.

“Nothing thanks. What I do want is you with your trousers and pants off, bent over the end of your bed, and me with a slipper in hand to teach you not to call me a pig.”

“OK, Sir,” said Caro in a little schoolgirl voice. She went to her bedroom and soon shouted out: “Ready and waiting.”

Peter laughed out loud and picked up one of Caro’s little trainers. He opened her bedroom door, and there she was bare bottomed over the end of her bed. Her bottom was glowing from the earlier spanking. It took all of Peter’s self control to get on with the slippering.

“Six of the best, Caro, and then you will get into bed and I will let myself out. I will ring you in the morning to make sure all is ok. Now to get started. I want you to count each whack and thank me for it.”

“Yes Sir.”

Peter stroked her bottom watching it twitch. It was a wonderful sight but Peter thought he had better get on with it.

Thwack. He landed the first blow on the peak of her left cheek

Caro bucked up and squealed. Her bottom wobbled and the left cheek started to glow.

“One, sir. Thank you sir.”

He replicated the first whack, this time on her right cheek. Now both glowed and her bottom bounced up and down.

“Oooh! Sir! Two sir, thank you Sir.”

Next came just below the first, and once again her bottom bounced up and down and she shouted an ouch before: “Three Sir, thank you sir. Oh! Owww.”

Peter was keeping this spanking symmetrical so the fourth landed next to the third but on her right cheek. Both cheeks glowed a bright red and wobbled as Caro bounced up and down on the bed.

“Yow! Four sir! Thank you sir!” Only two to go, she thought. Christ it stings.

Peter laid the fifth stroke on as hard as he could and was rewarded with a howl from Caro as he caught the sweet spot that joins thigh to buttock. Her left cheek was afire.

“Five Sir, Thank you Sir,” she said through the tears that were caused by the build up of the slippering on top of an already well spanked rear. Just one to go and, like the last, absolutely of the best on her right cheek. This evened the cheeks up and got a similar reaction. A howl, flood of tears and then through pinched lips: “Six Sir. Thank you sir.”

Peter threw the slipper to the floor and patted a burning bot saying: “Goodnight Caro. Speak in the morning.”

He turned and left the flat as Caro rubbed her bottom and sobbed into the duvet. “What have I got myself into?” She muttered.

She got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Coming back to her bed she noticed her answer machine flashing. She thought she had better listen in case it was an emergency of some kind. The message was from Sister Sophia asking her to ring and make an appointment to visit at the school.

“Oh God!” She thought. “I am in deep trouble.”

The End