A woman meets a new neighbour and finds her background very interesting.
A prequel to ‘Into the New Year’ published two years ago.
By Kane Strokes
Mary, leaving for work, closed the front door of her house in the quiet cul-de-sac, walked less than 100 yards before turning the corner into the access road. Her heart sank as she saw the bungalow where old Mrs Scott had lived had a ‘For Sale’ board outside. Mary knew this was coming, as Mrs Scott had moved into sheltered accommodation. Mary hoped the new owners would keep as much of the old world character as possible, and not rip the place apart.
The very next day there was a ‘Sold’ board outside the bungalow.
Several weeks later on a Friday afternoon, as Mary was walking home from work, she saw the new owners of the bungalow. An elderly woman was struggling to get a box out of the boot of the car, whilst a man, presumably her husband, stood by and watched. Mary called out to her asking if she needed help, an offer that was immediately accepted. Mary walked up the driveway, put down her bag and helped lift the box from the car.
“I put it in there,” the lady explained, “I was certain I’d be able to get it out. Thank you for your help.”
Mary looked around. There were several boxes on the drive and lawn.
“Would you like a hand to get these indoors?” Mary asked.
The lady agreed, and told Mary that her husband had recently had a back operation and was under strict instructions not to lift or carry anything. Then she introduced herself.
“I’m Margaret, Margaret Fraser, and this is my husband, Bill.”
“I’m Mary Carter. I live in the third house along in the cul-de-sac,” Mary pointed in the general direction of her house.
Bill said he’d do something useful, make a pot of tea, or would Mary prefer coffee? Margaret and Mary got the boxes indoors. Whilst drinking tea, Mary told Margaret about the old lady who had lived there before, and asked if they had any plans for the place. Mary was happy to hear that Margaret and Bill intended to leave much as it was. They would redecorate and renew the kitchen and bathroom, but apart from that they bought the bungalow for it’s character.
As Mary was about to leave she looked around at all the boxes that would need unpacking. With only Margaret able to do it, she volunteered her services to help the next day, a Saturday. Margaret was reticent but Mary insisted she didn’t mind and had nothing else planned for the day.
Saturday morning, Mary was helping Margaret unpack various boxes. Margaret told of her son and daughter, one in Australia, the other in Canada, so she had no one close by she could call onto help. It wasn’t long before Bill brought in tea and biscuits; time for a break and some small talk.
Mary told about her divorce and living alone. She worked as a receptionist for a local solicitor. Margaret told Mary she was a retired headmistress of a girls grammar school.
Hearing this, Mary’s heart almost skipped a beat. She had long held a fascination for thoughts of errant schoolgirls bent over a desk or touching their toes ready for a strict headmistress to cane their bottoms.
“I hope I get this unpacking right. I don’t want to get the cane, do I?” Mary laughed as she said it.
Through her years of caning naughty girls, and visits from ‘old girls’, Margaret could tell when a woman had a fascination with corporal punishment, and she was certain that Mary fitted that bill.
“Did you get the cane at school?” Margaret asked.
“No, we didn’t have the cane, but we did get slippered though,” Mary replied.
“Did you get the slipper then?” Margaret enquired.
“A few times,” Mary explained. “Several times in PE, and I got sent to the senior mistress for the slipper twice for being late too many times and once for smoking. She really lit a fire in my backside that time,” Mary laughed.
Margaret looked around the room. “I think Bill and I can cope with what’s left in here, could you help in this other room?”
Mary agreed, and followed Margaret into what was Mrs Scott’s old dining room.
“I’m going to have this room as my office,” Margaret told Mary. “I can keep all my walking guides, my cameras and other photographic things in here as well as my family history research.” Margaret looked at the boxes scattered about the room, knowing exactly what was in each box. “I think we’ll start with this box here.” Margaret pointed to a box for Mary to open.
As she did so, Mary said: “Oh my gosh!”
Margaret looked around and saw four canes at the top of the box, just as she knew they were. “Ah, I wondered where I had packed them,” she said. “The souvenirs of my career.”
Mary continued to stare at the canes. “Why four of them?” she asked.
Margaret explained there was a standard issue classroom cane; she picked it up and flexed it.
“Then there’s the light cane for juniors, a heavier cane for the mid school, and this for the sixth formers,” she said holding the girls’ senior cane. “Here, would you like to hold them?”
Mary took the four canes, placed three down and examined each one.
“They’re so light,” she said innocently. “I’ve been told they hurt, but just holding them, you wouldn’t believe it.”
“I’m quite willing to demonstrate their effectiveness,” replied Margaret with a grin.
There was a hesitancy in Mary’s reply. “Um, yes, I expect so.”
It was enough to tell Margaret that Mary wanted to find out. She changed tack, and asked Mary what happened at her school when a girl was slippered. Mary told about the wait outside the office, hands on head facing the wall, then called in and lectured about your shortcomings and why you were there, then told to bend over the back of the chair, your skirt lifted, and the slipper slammed hard against your bottom.
“What happened when you caned girls?” Mary asked.
“Well,” Margaret started. “Much the same as you’ve described to me, except the girl bent over that desk.” Margaret pointed to the desk, covered in boxes. “Tell you what, rather than me explaining everything, why don’t we clear the desk and let me demonstrate. You wouldn’t mind bending over the desk for a couple of light taps with the cane, would you? Then you’d have some idea of what happened to other naughty girls.”
Margaret looked towards Mary with a friendly smile. The suggestion shocked Mary. She was even more shocked to hear herself agreeing to it.
With some urgency Margaret started clearing the desk, Mary in a daze, but helping as well. With the surface clear, Margaret placed a cane on the desk.
“Stand there, Mary,” Margaret pointed to the spot where she wanted Mary to stand. Margaret sat down, and looked up at Mary. “Well, young lady, you come into my house asking me what it’s like to be caned.”
They both knew this wasn’t strictly true, but Mary didn’t correct Margaret.
“When girls were sent to me for the cane, they were caned across the seat of their knickers, but I won’t ask you to lower your jeans.”
Mary looked at Margaret, not quite sure what to say. “Umm…”
“Yes, Mary?” asked Margaret. “Anything the matter?”
“Well, I was wondering, this is only a couple of taps, not the real thing?”
“Oh, good heavens,” replied Margaret. “Only a couple of light taps. I’d never dream of giving such a lovely helpful neighbour a proper caning as a demonstration.” She smiled again at Mary.
“Ok then, I’ll lower my jeans.” Mary wondered who was putting these words into her mouth.
Margaret paused for a moment, wondering if she dared push the boundary a little further. Well, no harm in asking.
“Very well, in that case would you mind addressing me as ‘miss’, just to add a little extra realism?” Margaret asked.
Margaret looked sternly at Mary.
“Oh! Yes miss, I mean.”
Margaret smiled at Mary’s compliance. Mary unbuckled her jeans and pushed them down to her knees, suddenly remembering that she had put a pretty pair of knickers on this morning, and not a pair that were getting frayed around the edges.
When Mary’s jeans were around her knees, Margaret picked up the cane and flexed it across her chest. Mary looked on, astonished by what she was seeing.
“Right girl, bend right over the desk and grip the far sides.”
Mary did as she had been commanded to do. Margaret had developed a persona that Mary really didn’t want to argue with.
Margaret continued. “Arch your back and thrust your bottom out. You’re here to have your bottom caned. I want a nice clear target.”
Mary obeyed. She dipped her back and thrust out her bottom.
Margaret then whispered in her ear: “Just two for now, a light one, and then one a little firmer, ok?”
“Yeah, ok,” Mary nodded.
Mary was immediately reprimanded. “You should be saying ‘yes miss’ when answering the headmistress.”
“Yes miss,” Mary quickly replied.
Margaret raised the cane and delivered a stroke at a slower speed and without the force she’d have normally used. The cane cut across Mary’s sit spots. She gasped, the sting taking her by surprise.
“Ouch!” she called out.
Margaret decided to push her luck. “A second light one for failing to address me properly? Agreed?”
“Yes miss,” replied Mary.
Margaret smiled. Mary certainly did have a fascination with the cane.
Once again, Margaret deliberately slowed the stroke and resisted the temptation to flick her wrist as the cane struck. Margaret watched a second stripe traverse Mary’s creamy white bottom as Mary gasped and wriggled and bent her knees.
“Now for something a little firmer, and let this be a lesson to you.”
Margaret whipped the cane high before bringing it down faster against Mary’s bottom. A flick of her wrist just before the impact accelerated the cane towards its target. The sound of the whack as the cane impacted on Mary’s bottom reverberated around the bare walls of the room.
Mary yelled and jumped up clutching her bottom. Margaret watched as Mary rubbed her bottom.
“Well, what do you think?”
“That hurts!” replied Mary. “How on earth did girls take six like that?”
“That was nothing. I caned girls harder than that. I didn’t want them returning. I wanted them to remember their caning for a long time and not want to return. Also, they took it because they had to. They had broken the rules. When a headmistress says ‘bend over’, you do so and take your punishment.”
“I think I’d have been better behaved if they had the cane at my school,” Mary told Margaret, as she struggled to pull her jeans up.
Outside, Bill was planning the garden. That was his forte, his hobby; how he would landscape it, planning the various borders and his vegetable plot. The dining room overlooked the garden.
He was just passing the window at the time that Mary was pushing her jeans down. He took a step back to where he hoped he wouldn’t be seen, and watched the scene unfolding inside. He watched Mary bend over the desk, her knickers sliding up between her cheeks, and the lines left by the cane across the exposed parts of her bottom as Mary stood up, holding her backside.
Bill stepped backwards and returned the way he had come, not wanting to be seen passing the window. The image of what he considered to be a pert little bum would live with him for a long time. When Mary was dressed, Margaret suggested tea and biscuits and then perhaps to get back to the unpacking.
Margaret led Mary through to the kitchen where Bill was just pouring the boiling water into the teapot.
“That is well-timed Bill, how did you know we were ready?”
“Intuition,” he told her.
Margaret remarked on muddy footprints on the kitchen floor.
“I’ve been in the garden deciding where my vegetable plot will go.” He never mentioned the vantage point he had accidentally found, and what a delectable bottom Mary had.
Suitably refreshed, Margaret and Mary returned to the unpacking. At the end of the day Bill suggested they treat Mary to lunch out the next day as a thank you for her help. Mary graciously declined. Margaret, however, had decided it an excellent idea, and perhaps Mary would like to discuss it further in the office.
Mary understood exactly what Margaret was hinting at and so agreed to go.
Mary became a regular visitor to Margaret and Bill, helping out when needed, accompanying Margaret on walks with her camera. Sometimes Mary would try to encourage Margaret to describe some punishments in greater detail, which she would fantasise about that evening. Occasionally, with little persuasion, she would bend over the desk for a couple of light strokes. Each time, her heart would miss a beat hoping Margaret would tell her ‘six of the best’, only to be frustrated that it didn’t happen and frustrated with herself that she wasn’t brave enough to ask.
Margaret too felt the frustration. Oh how she wanted Mary to feel a real caning, but the younger woman never asked, and Margaret would never take it upon herself to tell Mary for fear of damaging their friendship.
© Kane Strokes 2019