After her father died and her mother met someone new, a girl goes to live in her stepfather’s grand house. By another new writer to us.

By Topper86

It had been two years since my father had died when I was 16, and I never thought I would love anyone as much as I loved him. My Mother started dating this tall handsome man with really aristocratic features about a year after Dad died, and at first I resented him, but as time went by I grew to like him more and more. Mum was so happy with him, and he even paid attention to what I was doing and encouraged me to apply for college.

He had this wonderful house in the country that looked almost like a stately home with lovely staircases and more rooms than I could count. When he asked Mum to marry him I was thrilled, especially when he told me I would be moving in with them after they returned from their honeymoon.

When they got back Mum seemed to have changed, but I just assumed it was from the great time they’d had. Dad showed me my new room and took me on a proper tour of the house, which was even better than I could have imagined. One room however, which had a big oak door and the word ‘Study’ with a big brass plaque on it, he walked right by.

“Can I see in there?” I asked.

“That is private, unless I ask you to come in. You are not to open that door ever or I will be most displeased.”

I’d never seen him that serious before, so it really made me all the more curious as to its contents.

Well after a couple of months I noticed Mum was just not her usual self, but she kept saying everything was fine, just different from what she’d expected. David, which was his name, was very formal, but also seemed to be very loving to Mum and me, but I knew something was different, even though I couldn’t put my finger on it.

One night about 9.30pm he told me he thought I should go to my room as he had something to attend to, and he and Mum needed to be alone. I didn’t think much of it, so I said goodnight and trotted upstairs to my lovely room. I got undressed and into my nightie, washed myself and went to pick up my book, which I realized I’d left downstairs.

As I said, this was a big house and my bedroom was in a far corner, so I had quite a way to walk. On the way to the living room I passed the study and noticed a light was coming from under the door, and then I heard voices from inside. I didn’t think much of it and carried on to the living room where I picked up my book and started to go back to my bedroom.

As I got outside the study, the voices got louder and I could hear my parents talking, with Dad sounding like he was annoyed at something and Mum seeming to apologize. I don’t know why, but I stopped when I realised that sitting on the steps outside, I could hear them clearly.

“Well I have no other choice,” I heard him say. “Come here, remove your skirt, pull down your knickers and bend over the end of the desk!”

“Please don’t!” Mum said. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

“So far it’s only six, but one more word and it will be twelve.”

I wondered what the hell they were talking about.

I heard shuffling and then a swishing sound, followed by another. I still hadn’t figured out what was about to happen until he said: “Now bend over!”

Suddenly I heard that same swishing sound followed by a loud crack, and then Mum let out a scream. My god, he was caning her.

I heard the whistling sound of that cane five more times, followed by a thud as I imagined it landing on her poor bum. My heart was racing. This wonderful man was beating my mother.

“Now get up and go to bed, before I decide to give you more!”

I rushed upstairs as fast as I could, as I certainly didn’t want to get caught. When I got back to my room, my heart was fluttering and my knees were wobbly. Although the thought of my Mum suffering was awful, at the same time something stirred in me that was exciting in a way I didn’t understand at the time.

I tried to get my Mum to tell me about it, but short of asking her outright I couldn’t think of what to say. “Is everything OK with you and Dad?” just got a, “Oh yes, it’s fine. One day you’ll understand the relationship between a man and woman is very complicated.”

My curiosity about how often this happened got to me, and I waited about a month until we were together in the living room one evening and noticed that they were both very quiet. I made some excuse about having a rough day and said I was going to have an early night, and went off to bed. I had purposely left my book in the living room, as I needed an excuse should they hear me and wonder what I was doing downstairs.

I took my time and changed into my sexiest nightie, and put on my silk dressing gown. Don’t ask me why I needed to do this but it just seemed right for some reason. After waiting about 10 minutes I went downstairs and, sure enough, the light was coming from under the study door again and I could hear them speaking. I went to pick up my book so that if anyone came out at least I would have the reason for being there in my hand.

Back outside the room I took up my position on the stairs again and listened. David seemed far more upset this time and before I knew it, I heard the same instructions as before to strip and bend over. Once again he swished the cane a half dozen times in the air and then I heard the words: “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” my Mum said.

Swish followed by that awful crack sound and then Mum’s scream of pain. Each stroke elicited the same reaction, but to my horror it didn’t stop at six but went all the way to 12.

I rushed to my room before Mum came out and I jumped into bed.

“Why?” I thought. Still, my hand went between my legs and relief was only seconds away. I felt guilty as hell, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about what happened in that room.

Well the day came when Mum and Dad went up to town for the day saying that they would be back at 5pm in time for dinner.

I managed to stay away from the library until about 3 o’clock when my curiosity just got the better of me. Even though no one was in the house, I found myself sneaking around as if I could be heard. I made my way to the study and found the door was unlocked. In I went, and what I saw was a fairly large room with bookshelves on two walls, a beautiful old desk against one wall and some old oak cupboards. I poked around, looking into drawers and at the books and finally opened one of the cupboards and jumped back. It was crammed with punishment tools, including not just canes, but whips, paddles and straps.

I soon recovered and grabbed a long very flexible cane, probably like the one used on Mum, and swished it in the air a couple of times. I played with the other implements too and was totally engrossed in my own little world, when to my horror I heard my Dad’s voice from the door.

“I thought I told you never to come into this room without an invitation from me, Jane. Well now you have one. Report to me outside this study, dressed for bed, at 8pm tonight. Now, get out!”

I rushed to my room, my mind racing. What was he going to do? What could I do? Well, all I could do was wait for the fateful hour to arrive.

At 7.30 I started getting ready for bed. What to wear? Don’t ask me why, but I picked a very flimsy white nylon nightie that came down to just above my knees and a matching gown on top. I realized that this didn’t hide much, but I didn’t want him to think I had put on some heavy pyjamas or something just because I was going to be standing in front of him. I think I wanted to look sexy also, as maybe he would forgive me if he found me attractive.

The time came and I went downstairs and stood outside the study as ordered. At 8.05 I heard him call me from inside.

“Come in and shut the door behind you! Stand in front of the desk, Jane, and look at me. I told you never to enter this room without my permission, didn’t I?”

“Yes sir, but the door was open,” I lied.

“No it wasn’t, because I came back for something before I left and made sure it was closed. This adds lying to your other wrongdoings. Who gave you the right not only to enter my room, but to go through my private belongings? When you live in my house you live under my rules. I have therefore decided to give you twelve strokes of the senior cane, which was the one you were holding when I caught you in this room. You can, of course, refuse in which case you may leave this house tomorrow.”

“No, please sir, I know I was wrong and I’ll take my punishment.”

“Very well, stand at the end of the desk and remove the gown, then raise your nightie, bend over and grab the far side of the desk with both hands. Do not get up or move during this punishment or I will not hesitate to start again!”

I did as I was told and found myself bent over with my bottom exposed to the air. He was going to have an unobstructed and intimate view of something no man had ever seen before.

I heard the cupboard behind me open and close and then the swishing of the cane in the air a couple of times. God, I was now about to find out what Mum had gone through more than a couple of times, I suspected.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I said.

Swish! Crack!  The first stroke landed right in the middle of my bum. The pain took half a second to sink in and then I thought I would explode. How I managed to stay down or not grab my behind I don’t know. Maybe it was the fear of starting again that stopped me.

Swish! Crack! The second stroke landed. I screamed out. I had never felt such pain in my life. Who cared if he could see everything? My mind had slowed to a snail’s pace. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him take the cane back for each stroke. I could hear the swish before it descended on my, by now, fiery posterior.

With only about 10 seconds between strokes the whole punishment only lasted about 2 minutes, but it felt like hours. My bottom was screaming louder than I by the end and when he told me I could get up and rub it, I could feel these huge ridges from each stroke.

“Come here!” He said. Then he took me in his arms and hugged me. He held my face in his hands and said: “You’re a very brave girl,” and then kissed me on the cheek. My goodness, was he good looking!

“Now go to bed and think about what just happened to you!”

How could I not? My bum was on fire. I rushed up to my room. I looked in my mirror and couldn’t believe the livid weals on my bum, but touching them and thinking of him seeing me spread wide had the most amazing effect. My hands flew between my legs and two orgasms like I never had before flooded all my senses. Was I insane? I couldn’t wait to see him in the morning to say: “Thank you.”

The End

© Topper86