A professional disciplinarian gets an unusual call
By Kenny Walters
Samantha Livingstone looked out from her kitchen window down the mews garage lined street below. Rain was lashing down and washing over the old cobbled road. Her phone rang.
When the caller didn’t answer immediately, Samantha remained silent. New clients did sometimes take a few moments to work up enough courage to speak.
“I’m sorry…” The caller hesitated.
“Can I help you?” Samantha enquired gently, rather surprised by the female voice.
“I, um, saw your advert.”
“My advert? Yes.”
“I was wondering, would you be prepared to see me?”
“Yes, I can see you. You’ve been a naughty girl, presumably?”
“Oh no! Well, I suppose, in a way. Sorry, I don’t mean to be difficult. It’s just that, well, I’ve never done this sort of thing before. I’m a total beginner. Sorry.”
“Not to worry,” Samantha replied, not really accustomed to this sort of prevarication. “Perhaps it would help if you told me what sort of experience you are seeking.”
“Of course! Sorry. How can I expect you to read my mind?” The woman giggled nervously.
“Oh, yes, sorry. I was wanting, that is, I’m looking to experience an authentic school caning. Is that something you do?”
“A school caning? Yes, I do a lot of canings.”
“But it must be an authentic school caning.” The woman stressed.
“By which you mean, what exactly?”
Samantha had never had a female client in the three and a half years she had been working this ‘business’ of hers. There seemed no end to the steady stream of male clients offering her cash to spank, cane and whip their backsides but a female client, that was something new.
“I really don’t know,” the woman said. “Sorry, this is all very new for me. I’m finding it very difficult. Is it something we could talk about? Perhaps we could meet? I might find it easier if we were speaking face to face.”
“It’s your money. It’s quite usual to have a pre-session anyway, at least on the first visit. You might also want time to change into uniform.”
“School uniform? You said you were looking for a realistic school caning.”
“Oh yes I did, didn’t I? Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
“I have a room fitted out as a headmistress’s study. That could make it feel more realistic, perhaps.”
“A study, oh yes, that might help.”
“I also have a basement with a small cell and a punishment trestle if you prefer.”
“Oh gracious, you are well equipped for this sort of thing, aren’t you? So much to think about.”
“Why not stick with your original school punishment scenario for your first visit?” Samantha suggested. “You can always look around and maybe come back for something different.”
“Come back? Oh, yes, I suppose. I hadn’t considered that.”
“So, when would you like to come and see me? My fee will be seventy-five pounds for a one hour visit. I have a free period tomorrow afternoon.”
“Seventy-five pounds? Yes, that’s fine. Um, I’m getting nervous now!” The woman giggled timidly. “Tomorrow afternoon, you say? Yes, I could make that. What time?”
“Shall we say two-thirty?”
“Oh, um, yes, I could make two-thirty. Sorry, I’m getting really nervous now, just like…”
“Just like a nervous schoolgirl summoned to see her headmistress?” Samantha finished the woman’s sentence for her when she hesitated.
“Um, yes.” The woman whispered.
“What name shall I know you by?”
“Name? Oh, I’m Clare, Clare Harding.”
“Right, Clare Harding. Two-thirty tomorrow. Make sure you’re smartly dressed and do not be late!”
“Oh, no ma’am!”
* * *
The following day, after seeing two regular male clients, Samantha Livingstone made herself a salad for lunch and read a magazine to pass the time until her afternoon appointment.
‘I wonder if she’ll turn up,’ Samantha mused to herself. ‘Annoying if she doesn’t; I could have fitted old Arthur in.’
Meanwhile, a slim, dark-haired woman wearing dark blue trousers, a white blouse and a dark blue short-sleeved pullover walked slowly between the two rows of mews garages. She’d parked her car several hundred yards away and checked her appearance any number of times before venturing towards her imminent appointment. She could see the large Victorian house directly ahead of her, but she threaded her way around the numerous parked vehicles to appear as inconspicuous as possible.
A glance at her wristwatch confirmed she was just two minutes early while a brass plate fixed to the house confirmed she had arrived at number thirty-two. A large, old-fashioned doorbell press beckoned.
“Ms Samantha?” The woman asked as the large front door swung open.
“And you are?” A tall, blond woman in her late twenties demanded sternly.
“Clare Harding. I phoned yesterday?”
“So you did. Come in.” Samantha, wearing a smart grey skirt and white blouse with lace collar, turned and started down the hallway. “Close the door and follow me.”
“I hope I’m not late,” Clare said, more to make conversation as she tried to keep up.
Samantha ignored her and led the way to a small sitting room.
“Now, do you want to talk first or get straight to the action?”
“I’d like to talk a little bit first, if that’s okay?”
“It’s your money,” Samantha replied curtly. “Take a seat.”
While Samantha relaxed into an armchair, Clare nervously perched on the edge of the cushion of a small two-seat sofa.
“Questions?” Samantha suggested. “Perhaps there are some things you’d like to ask me.”
“Um, yes. Where to start? Sorry, this is all a bit of a new experience.” Clare could hear the tremor in her own voice. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“There always has to be a first time. What do you want to ask me?”
“So, how does this work? What happens next?”
“Firstly, you pay me seventy-five pounds.” Samantha almost smiled.
“Sorry, yes, of course.” Clare delved into her bag and took out a brown envelope. “Here.”
Samantha took the envelope, took out the cash and counted it.
“That’s fine.” Now she did smile. “I see you’ve dressed in a rather schoolgirl-like style,” she said, looking Clare up and down, assessing Clare’s age at a little over forty.
“Yes. I’m afraid I didn’t have a tie.”
“I’ll find you one.” Samantha got up, taking the cash with her, and left the room for a few moments. She returned with a blue and white striped tie. “Put that on.”
Clare struggled putting the tie on, and Samantha had to come to her rescue.
“That’s tight.” Clare remarked, finding the tie now gripped her neck.
“Smartness is more important than your comfort.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose it is.” Clare grinned a little foolishly.
“Now, when you’re ready we’ll go into role play.” Samantha announced. “So, if you have any questions I suggest you ask them promptly.”
“Oh, yes, sorry, I’m dithering again. Sorry.”
“Questions?” Samantha prompted, thinking that if this woman said ‘sorry’ again she’d be getting a few more strokes of the cane than she was expecting.
“Yes, questions.” Clare frowned in thought. “How painful will this be?” Now she looked Samantha straight in the eye.
“You asked for six strokes?”
“Then you will receive six sharp, stinging strokes to your bottom. Each will be intensely painful for several seconds after which the intense pain will slightly subside leaving your bottom quite sore.”
“Really punishing then?”
“That is the object of the exercise.”
“Of course it is. Yes, sorry.” Clare sank back into deep thought.
“Look, one way to alleviate the discomfort, meaning you could perhaps take more strokes if you wanted, would be to take a warm-up spanking first.”
“A warm-up spanking? I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What would be the purpose of that?”
“It makes it easier to withstand a more prolonged caning.”
“More than a typical school punishment?”
“But that’s not what I want! I’m sorry, that’s not what I want at all.”
“It’s not compulsory. Just a suggestion.” Samantha felt defensive. “Only you seemed worried about the pain.”
“Well, I am worried about the pain. Of course.”
“So, you do want it to hurt then?”
“Yes. I mean it is a punishment, isn’t it?”
“True. It’s just that many of my clients like to extend the punishment for as long as possible. Hence they ask me to spank them first which then means they can take a lot more strokes of the cane.”
“I see. No, I mean, I have no objection to you spanking me, if you think that’s what I deserve, but it needs to be a part of the punishment and not just a means of extending something else. Do you see what I mean? I’m sorry, perhaps I’m not explaining myself very well.”
Samantha thought for a moment. “I’m sensing your reasons for coming might be a little different from some of my other clients. What made you seek me out?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Okay.” Samantha was becoming increasingly intrigued. “I have the time. Want some coffee?”
Clare nodded. She followed Samantha to the large kitchen and sat at the kitchen table while their drinks were prepared.
“Is coffee included in the fee?” Clare asked mischievously.
“Samantha thought momentarily. “Yes, but you don’t leave here without getting your bottom smacked. Okay?”
“Fair enough. That’s a deal.”
“So, your story. Why are you here?”
“When I was at school, there was no corporal punishment. So when two friends and I bunked off school for the day there was a minor telling-off but that was about it. So we did it again, and then again. If we skipped just the odd lesson or two, then we often found no-one noticed and we tended to get away with it.”
“And what if you were caught?”
“Oh, sometimes they said something, but it was just another telling-off and certainly no punishment.”
“How long did this go on for?”
“Eight or ten weeks spread over a couple of terms? Then all of a sudden everything happened. Social Services were called in, our parents were interviewed and it was all a terrible mess. They even considered putting us into care. It seemed to go on for ages and we all felt so guilty. I’m sure all the social workers and teachers felt they’d done their bit but none of it really related to us. We were just being naughty and doing it for the fun. Everyone seemed to think there had to be much more in it, but there just wasn’t.”
“Okay.” Samantha said, believing she could now see where the story was leading.
“Looking back, it was a terrible time that could easily have ruined our lives and probably our parents’ lives as well. And it could so easily have been avoided.”
“Avoided? By punishment of some kind?”
“Exactly. If they’d given us the good hidings we deserved then I’m sure our truanting days would have come to a swift end.”
“But that never crossed their minds?”
“No, not at all. Although I do remember my mum saying at one point that if she’d done anything like what we’d been up to then she’d have been called before the headmistress for the cane.”
“I see. So all this is to…”
“Home life was never the same again. I’ve always felt so guilty about that because, you see, it was all my fault. I was the ring leader.”
Samantha nodded thoughtfully. “And you’re looking to get the caning your mother said she’d have got?”
“She never went into detail, but that is why I want you to make it as realistic as you can.”
“It makes more sense now.” Samantha said, still mulling the story over.
“Is that a similar story to your other clients?”
“In some cases, yes. Well, it’s similar anyway.”
Both women remained thoughtful as they finished their coffees in silence.
“Right!” Samantha suddenly sprang up. “Shall we get to it?”
“I suppose we must.” Clare seemed content to stay in the kitchen, but that clearly was not an option. “What do I have to do? What are you going to do to me?”
“Back to the sitting room. Come along!” Samantha led the way and Clare followed.
“Take a seat,” Samantha beckoned for Clare to sit down on the sofa. “I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
“Okay. So, what will happen next?”
Samantha stopped dead in her tracks, turned and scowled. “You will find out soon enough, young lady. And I think it would be appropriate to address me as ‘miss’, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, of course. Sorry, yes miss.”
“That’s better, girl.”
Clare was actually glad of a little time to herself. The change in Samantha’s demeanour from therapist to disciplinarian had been rapid, and Clare found it hard to keep up. It should have seemed odd for Clare to regard this younger woman as her superior, but somehow it didn’t. Her uncertainty of what exactly would be happening next fuelled her fears, but at the same time a feeling that some judgement and sentence would be passed was also quite comforting.
Meanwhile, behind the closed door of her study, Samantha had sat down behind her large desk and was now simply waiting. She’d found through experience that some waiting and fretting would do Clare no harm at all.
“You, girl! Inside.”
Clare looked up, surprised because she hadn’t heard the door open. Samantha was standing with her arms folded, waiting for her to enter.
“Sorry, you made me jump.” Clare felt strangely flushed as she went through. She could sense Samantha eyeing her up and down, with a special interest in the seat of her quite tightly fitting dark blue trousers.
“Stand in front of the desk.” Samantha indicated the required spot as she herself went behind the desk and sat in her large office chair. “So, what have you to say for yourself, girl?”
“I’m sorry, miss? Sorry, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. Sorry.”
“You’re sorry are you? You seem to spend a lot of time saying you’re sorry, don’t you? Perhaps if you concentrated on behaving yourself better you wouldn’t need to say ‘sorry’ all the time.”
“No, miss.” Clare replied, realising there was something in what her new-found mentor was saying.
“Fancy yourself as something of a ring leader, do you? Perhaps you enjoy leading others astray?”
“No, miss.” Clare replied, genuinely indignant.
“And never mind the upset it causes?”
“No, miss!” Clare responded more forcefully.
“Really? That’s not what I’ve heard. Taking time off whenever it suits you, and leading others on to do the same? Ring any bells?”
Clare felt very hot and uncomfortable. “Yes, miss.” She said quietly, on the point of tears.
“Feeling weepy, are we? Think that’ll get you out of trouble, do you?”
“Good! Because it won’t. This time, you’re going to be taught a very hard and long overdue lesson, my girl.”
“Yes, miss.” Now a couple of tears did slip down Clare’s cheeks.
Samantha stood up and moved around to stand just behind Clare, and for a moment the subordinate woman thought she was about to receive some comfort. She was disappointed.
“Nice little bottom.” Samantha remarked, patting Clare’s backside gently. “I think six good strokes across that will really have you in tears, don’t you?”
“Yes, miss.” She sobbed.
“Good. Undo your trousers and push them down to your ankles, then bend over the desk.”
Samantha remained hovering by Clare’s left shoulder, very close so she was practically breathing down Clare’s neck. She could see Clare’s fingers toying with the button just above the zip as the woman hesitated.
‘Is she going to bottle out?’ Samantha asked herself.
The issue seemed to be something Clare was struggling with, and could easily go either way.
“For what it’s worth,” Samantha prompted. “You thoroughly deserve this. You and I both know that, don’t we?”
“It doesn’t make it any easier.” Clare replied between sobs.
“Do you deserve to have it ‘made easier’?”
“Not really, no.”
“Well then. Get your trousers down and get yourself across the desk. Would you have kept your headmistress waiting like this? I rather doubt it somehow.”
“No. You’re right, of course.”
Finally, Clare’s fingers slipped the button undone with the zip quickly following so it was completed before she could change her mind. As the dark blue trousers became loose, Samantha peered down the back and saw brief pale blue panties with a white floral pattern.
“I’m waiting!” Samantha prompted.
“Push your trousers down to your ankles and bend across the desk.”
“Oh, yes, sorry, miss.” Clare immediately began easing her trousers down.
“Don’t keep saying sorry.” Samantha slapped the older woman across the seat of her brief panties as the trousers were still being lowered. “Just do as you’re told!”
With the trousers now cosseting her ankles, Clare glanced round briefly, saw Samantha waiting, and bent herself across the broad desk. Samantha looked down and feasted for a few moments on the slim neat bottom, the lower bottom cheeks peeking out from below the brief panties and the top of the cheeks just visible above the waistband.
“Excellent!” Samantha slapped her hand across the seat of the blue and white patterned underwear. “Now, don’t move. I’m just going to select my cane and then we’ll see about a little justice for you, my girl.”
Clare watched as her ‘headmistress’ went over to a wardrobe-like cupboard on the right and opened the central door. She could see several canes hanging from a rail which varied in length from barely a couple of feet up to over three feet.
“I think this one,” Samantha said to no-one in particular as she withdrew one cane. She tried several practice swings, each making the air whistle, before commenting: “Yes, this will do nicely.”
“You really know how to draw this out, don’t you?” Clare commented, a wry grin on her face despite her nerves, as she watched Samantha return.
Samantha glared coldly, but didn’t answer. Instead, she took another two practice swings and positioned herself behind and to Clare’s left, ready to deliver the first stroke.
“Keep very still and brace yourself. This will hurt!”
“Yes,” Clare whispered tersely.
“Yes, what?” Samantha tapped the cane twice across the seat of Clare’s panties.
“Sorry. Yes, miss.”
In a moment, Samantha swung the cane back and delivered a firm stroke to the very centre of Clare’s bottom.
“Oooowww!!! My God! That really hurt!!”
“It’s meant to. You need to keep still and let me administer the strokes, unless you’re having a change of heart, of course.”
“No, no, I want you to continue. I am being punished, so it’s right that it hurts. It’s just much sharper than I imagined, that’s all.” Clare sniffed back a tear.
Samantha immediately whipped the cane down again, catching Clare a fraction lower.
“Eeeeesshhh!! Oh my God!!” Clare screeched, sniffing back more tears. “Could I have a tissue, please miss?”
Samantha opened a drawer of her desk and took out a box of tissues, placing it near to Clare’s head.
“Thanks,” Clare said gratefully, taking several and drying her eyes and blowing her nose. “Sorry, thank you, miss.”
Samantha responded by swiping the cane rapidly down across the seat of Clare’s brief panties, slightly above the first.
“Don’t keep saying sorry!”
“No, miss.” Clare managed a chuckle in between sobs.
Samantha took a little more time lining up the next stroke, while Clare lay dutifully still and patiently waiting. When it hit, it struck the woman low down across both buttocks.
“Eeeeeeeeeehhh!!” Clare squealed. “I won’t sit down for a month!”
“Yes, you will,” Samantha argued coldly. “Although hopefully you’ll be reminded of your punishment for a few days.”
“I’ll certainly…” Clare never finished that sentence, for the cane thrashed across her bottom and interrupted her. “Yeeeeooouuwww!!! I wasn’t expecting that one!”
“You’re not bending over that desk just to look cute!” Samantha retorted.
“No, miss.” Clare steadied herself ready for the next stroke, which would complete the six.
“Last one,” said Samantha.
“Yes, I know. I can count.”
Samantha was already contemplating making the final stroke a memorable one, and Clare’s sarcasm simply strengthened her resolve.
“Aaaaaaaaaarrrrggghh!!!!” Clare screamed, arching her back. “Oh my God!!! That really hurt!!!”
“Did it?” Samantha answered mockingly. “Well, it was the hardest one, intentionally. So I suppose it would, wouldn’t it?”
“Oh my God,” Clare repeated, bursting into a flood of tears.
“When you’re ready,” Samantha said coldly. “You may stand up. You will stand up straight and put your hands on your head until I say otherwise. Do you understand?”
“What?” Clare sobbed, in too much discomfort to hear much that was being said to her.
Samantha placed the cane down on the desk, took a handful of tissues and handed them to the other woman. “Here, get yourself together. Then, stand up straight and put your hands on your head.”
“Aren’t we finished?”
“We’ll be finished when I allow you to leave this room, young lady. Until then you will do as you are told.”
While Clare slowly pushed herself up from the desk, it took several minutes to stem the flow of tears to the point that she could do without the tissues. She looked around as though she’d forgotten what came next, and then appeared to remember her dark blue trousers were still around her ankles. As she began to reach down for them, she was interrupted.
“Stand up straight, hands on head.” Samantha quietly reminded her.
“Sorry. Sorry, miss. I was just going to pull my trousers up.”
“You can pull your trousers up when you are released, young lady. Until then, leave them where they are.”
Dutifully, back in her role, Clare straightened visibly, raised her arms and placed the palms of both hands flat on the top of her head. She stood looking straight ahead while Samantha returned the cane to its cupboard. When Samantha sat down at her desk and looked intently at the older woman, Clare didn’t respond and kept staring straight ahead.
After just a few minutes, Samantha slapped her hand down on the desk and declared: “Right, young lady, you may leave this study.”
Clare put her hands down and slowly eased her trousers back into place. After struggling with the fastenings, she turned and headed for the door, all the while gently massaging her sore bottom. Samantha was soon behind her.
“Take a seat.” Samantha waved a hand in the direction of the sofa, once they were back in the small sitting room. “Was that the sort of thing you were looking for?
Clare nodded, her face a mess of tear-smudged dark make-up. “Yes, miss,” she whimpered. “Yes, thank you.”
“It really hurts, doesn’t it?”
“It was a punishment. I should have expected it. And I’m sure I deserved it really.” Clare paused, looking down at the sofa as though sitting might prove something of a challenge. She eased herself down gently.
“I have some soothing cold cream, if it would help.” Suggested Samantha.
Clare seemed confused. “Would they have allowed that? I mean, would that have happened in a school caning?”
“No, that’s more something you might have done at home later.”
“Then that’s what I must do.”
“Sticking to the role?”
Clare smirked. “Something like that. But no, I’ve always wanted to know what might have happened to us if the school had corporal punishment as an option, and now I do. Why spoil the experience now?”
“Fair point,” Samantha conceded. “Do you still think this would have been a better option than what really did happen?”
“Yes, definitely. It would have saved so much heartache.”
“Your friends might not have felt the same though.”
Clare nodded. “If there hadn’t been a choice then I’m sure all would have taken their medicine. Even if there had been a choice I think most of us would have gone for the cane.” She thought for a moment before adding: “And I know we’re all certain that what did happen was wrong and totally destructive.”
“You still keep in touch?”
“Yes, so if you have some cards I can pass on? And even at my age I’m not always perfectly behaved.” Clare grinned cheekily.
“Sounds like I might be busy.” Samantha replied thoughtfully.
© Kenny Walters 2015