Love of Life 1/4
It was dark when Dominetta Grizelda Gutteridge was Driving Dubiously Dressed at some speed along the A1690 trunk road. Accompanying her was Richard Sharp, present prefect of St Stricktlands School, who was similarly so. Hopefully, they were both destined to enjoy a romantic dinner together. For each, it would appear to be with the partner of their dreams, and something neither had expected would ever take place. The difficulty had been because they were both basically Dominant in disciplinary disposition.
However life had rubbed smooth some of the sharper edges off both their abrasive personalities since the time they’d attended St Sticks together. It appeared they now only nudged ninedy to thirdy….or nine dozen to three. This meant they’d both found fairly substantial slices of submission, into which they could intertwine together. With a slight smile, she passed Harry’s Homemade Hamburgers, where she’d called earlier. Their destination was just up ahead, and she saw the masthead for the public house almost at once.
The
Stern
Maiden
Definitely The Old S&M, she agreed, looking again at the pleasing picture behind the words. Inevitably it was one of a seriously strict young Lady, holding her hands on hips. She pulled into the car park, and continued to the far side. “This is the best spot,” she said to Rick The Prick, “since it’s very close to the Customer Collection Pick-up Point. I’m afraid when they’ve done their worst with whichever of us is going down into the Coffee Service Suite, we won’t be wanting to walk very far.” He shivered slightly, even as his shaft strained.
It was always odd how the possible anticipation of a good whipping could be so unbelievably erotic. “If you’d care to make yourself into a presentable prefect again,” she said, reaching for her overnight bag, “I’ll do the same.” She rummaged around, even as he shimmied up his black underpants. “AHH….AHHH,” he gasped as they scraped across the brand on his bum which he’d had applied earlier….the letters D G G. He tackled his trousers, “….AHHH,” he repeated as the seat came into contact again, even as she selected her basic black strict short shiny skirt.
Matching shoes and socks followed, and finally a tie. “It’ll be easier to put these on if I stand up,” she said, opening the door as she spoke. Then she appended her apparel accordingly, even as Richard Sharp emerged from the passenger side. She locked the doors, and holding hands they headed towards the main entrance. Inside they were confronted by a large notice.
Our eminent Lady customers should be aware how corporal correction is applied to all mere male guests.
Caution – painful posterior punishment beyond this point
“It isn’t a Strict Sirs Session,” she said, “so your luck’s out.” He shrugged silently as they continued down the long, dimly-lit corridor, which reminded her so much of St Sticks. Then they reached the next notice. “Waitresses are always Miss,” she murmured.
Please wait here for attention
Guests should stand in silence with their hands behind their heads
He obeyed, and she checked to see who was….well, on juty? She’d noted previously how the Waitresses’ names all commenced with the letter J….surely this couldn’t be a complete coincidence? “Oops,” he muttered, for no apparent reason.
Your Stern maidens this evening are
Food Jillian
Bar June
Milkmaid Joan
Then a Waitress strutted up to them, wearing the Fig-leaf Apron attire. It was a natty number in French Maid style which only just covered the crotch. There was nothing else except matching black high-heeled shoes, although the apron carried a crook cane. The name was stencilled straight across her chest.
Jillian
Do not stare
“Good evening, Madam….” she said, giving her companion a very odd look, and then ignoring him completely as per protocol. Somehow, she’d a sneaking suspicion she knew him? Surely this couldn’t be possible, since this was the first time he’d set foot in the place? “….did you have a reservation….?” she shook her head, “….it’s not a problem, since this isn’t a peak evening, and we aren’t full. Have you eaten here before?” This time she nodded. “Once,” she confirmed, “so I’m aware how it all works. However, I don’t believe my guest has done so. It may be an interesting experience, since I’ve every intention of concluding my meal by having Coffee With Whipped Cream.”
They both glanced at him, and saw how he’d stitched the so-called swishees’ smirk. It was often offered by culpable canees in class, as a prelude to public punishment. It was the one which says wanly, ‘Hell….I’m about to be hit hard, and my hiney will hurt horribly.’ Although in this instance, he’d feel a full force flogging, probably by kind courtesy of Miss Whiplash, with a badly beaten back and bum. “I assume it’s one Comfy Customer Cushion, Madam?” asked the Waitress, and she nodded neatly, “….follow me, please,” Jillian strutted away, and almost automatically his eyes followed both back and bottom.
They were both bare, apart from the knotted strings. These dangled down daintily, doubling as a black thong. They shifted as she swayed, suggesting the seat was strokeable. It was a treat for tools but terrible tease, and almost certainly be an item on his bill. They continued into the main restaurant, and she saw him endeavouring to keep his eyes firmly fixed on the floor, without success. “You should seat me….” she said, as they approached the designated table for two, “….otherwise it’ll be one lash.” He stepped around, and shifted a cushion-covered chair backwards. “Ohh,” she gasped lightly as a raw rear reminded her all over again of what a guilty girl she’d been. After all, she’d just done a Detention at The Styx, and her Closure Caning was still a cause of concern….and contrition. “AHHHH,” he added as he sat down, and the really rough raised ridges bit his branded bottom badly.
Jillian smiled sweetly as she handed her a menu, and then one to him. “I need your first name for the bad boy’s bill please, Madam?” she asked. “It’s Domme, Miss,” she replied. “So you’re the famous Grizzle Guts?” Oops….rumbled? “I’m a much nicer person now,” she answered, taking her cue from a seriously suspect larger-than-life character, Hans Gruber. He featured in the first of a super-stud secret agent series of film flicks from the swinging sixties. She’d watched Our Man Flint several times on AudioVisual Record. Despite its sheer sexism, she’d still sign herself up as one of James Coburn’s harem of permanent playmates, with no questions asked.
“The fact you’re here with her….Richard,” the Waitress continued, “means our little pre-planning role-play session in your study a few days’ ago must have borne fruit?” Ohh….so they HAD met previously. “Yes, Miss,” he replied, smugly, “we acted it all out earlier this afternoon, and you’d had it almost word perfect.” Which was why it had seemed he’d been speaking by rote. Was her sinful psyche so transparently obvious?
“So what will you be doing after your meal, bad boy?” asked Jillian. “Please, Miss,” he said, “it’s exactly as you suggested, and Domme has asked. I’m so sorry you won’t be my Milkmaid, but I’m sure Joan will do an excellent job. She’ll whip me well, before I supply some semen. Then my lovely Lady can sup it at her leisure, knowing I’m shackled starkers outside in the car park….humbled and hopelessly humiliated. Obviously, I’ll be in no state to contemplate coitus, since I’ll be spunked out. However, I hope she’ll be impressed with my resolve, and tomorrow’s another day. After we’ve spent the night together, maybe we might enjoy some satisfactory screwing in the morning?” Wow.
“Most impressive, Miss,” she said, “all of which is what I was hoping would happen. In the circumstances, I’ll be sure to add a large tip….” she gave an especially evil grin, “….Richard will as well, though his will be an extra lash landed for such sinful services rendered. He can think of you whilst he’s taking it….though not TOO much, I hope….” she had another thought, “….did you also role-play me poking him?” There were two neat nods. “I should explain she attended St Sticks on Arrival Afternoon,” he said, “with one of sodding Shagger’s Schoolday Sojourns….so sorry, once again I ask you to forgive the pejorative adjective, but old habits die hard. It’s a new facility, whereby assorted adults are allowed to revisit the rattan. They sample some school style stick and swishing sessions during Lessons 1 to 4 the following morning. My Milkmaid was the second such sinner….although I didn’t screw her.” So dearest David had been up to his old tricks again. He was certainly making his mark on St Sticks….apart from the other way around. “I’ll be back to take your order presently, Madam….” said Jillian as she swayed seductively away towards another table, “….one more lash, you appallingly bad boy,” she murmured over her shoulder. Hell, it was taking candy from the kids.
Slowly, they both scanned down the menu. “Don’t stint yourself, Richard,” she said, “since my father provides me with a generous living allowance. So there’s no need to be gallant, and I’ll pick up the tab for all the food and drinks….” she grinned, “….although obviously you’ll still have your own to pay, in pain….” then she had another thought, “….is she really Jillian?” Perhaps he might have found out whilst fucking her? “No….they’re only work-names,” he said, and confirming her suspicions, “….she’s actually called Daphne Saffron. Joan is Shirley Cirrus, since she was similarly on Shagger’s sodding Sojourn.”
She considered them. “Surely, you cannot be serious?” she asked wittily, as she recalled the ancient tennis player John McEnroe, who was always wont to dispute the decisions of the umpire. Or was this all a throwback to the vintage spoof disaster movie Airplane: I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley? “Indeed so,” he replied, “she’s Surely Serious....and I daresay especially so whilst wielding the whip….” very witty, “….but I do owe Daffy Saffy a huge debt of gratitude. It enabled me to work through my feelings towards you, and what to do about it, should you show up again at The Styx….which you duly did. I was already psyched up to throwing myself at your feet, even before you suggested it….” he winked once, “….a lesson it seems we’ve both needed to learn, given your experiences with Relay.” As indeed she’d explained at length during the drive here, about making her peace with the previous prefect Raymond Lee.
“Are you ready to order, Madam?” asked Jillian, suddenly at her elbow. “I think so….” she replied, glancing at her companion, who nodded, “….I’ll have the Punitive Prawn Cocktail please, followed by the Superior Steak, medium rare….has it been beaten well?” The Waitress smiled. “All meat is here, Madam,” she confirmed, licking her lips lightly, as she looked at Richard Sharp with an obviously avuncular eye. “I’ll have the Whelp’s Whelks. Having been one of the six wankers, I’ll go for Masturbators Mince….” fair enough, given his heritage of dorm 6W, the same as David, “….with Cheeky Chips and Vapulated Vegetables please, Miss.”
Clearly, he was going out of his way to put himself properly in his place. “Thank you, Madam,” said the Waitress, collecting the menus, “drinks may be ordered at the bar….” she shrugged, “….since you’re attired in prefects’ uniform, and are obviously over eighteen, alcohol is available if required.” Once again she sauntered away towards an adjacent table, and this time Richard Sharp endeavoured to stare at the ceiling. “Mine’s a G&T with ice please, Richard,” she asked, “since I’m driving. You can have anything you like….to steady your nerves, if you wish.” He nodded, and headed away towards the bar.
She watched whilst the Waitress handed over two bills to an obviously more mature Madam. She was wearing a Tanningtown style black leather business suit, although she didn’t recognise her as a teacher. However, she was accompanied by a middle-aged mere male, clearly having once been a Templar tanner. She recognized his so-called Skirt Of Learning, in addition to the rest of the grey school uniform. It was ridden up at the rear, and she knew the reason why. They sported suitably spiked seats on the inside surface, which were worse than the really rough raised ridges. “I accept you’ve been amazingly attentive,” she overheard her saying, “and a perfect partner….which is why I graciously agreed not to have Coffee With Whipped Cream. But what exactly do you call this, bad boy?” she asked of him, whilst waving a bill.
“I’m so sorry, Ma’am,” he replied, “I was able to avoid Ogling Obviously Over the Waitresses, and all the other felonies, however I clearly failed with your beautiful boobs on three occasions.” She sniffed. “I suppose it’s not very much,” she opined, “even though I strongly suspect we haven’t properly plumbed the depths of your deviances.” Cue for her chance to be of assistance. It was a golden opportunity to shop a stud, and her heritage from dorm 6S would pay dividends. “Excuse me, Madam,” she said loudly, “might I mention he was also attempting some Spying Up Skirts….mostly mine.” He stared at her in obvious annoyance. “It’s a total travesty of the truth, Ma’am,” he said hotly. “At my school, Ma’am….” she continued with what she hoped was an annoying Uriah Heap whine, “….innocent young Ladies are always believed, and the dose of derrière discipline is doubled for a denial.” The more mature Madam nodded.
“I was once a Templar Tart,” she agreed, “many moons ago. Well, it really WAS, since I was a pretty prefect in Year Moon XXXV….if you know how our system of dates works?” She nodded. “They’re named after the incumbent Headmaster’s term of office, if I recall rightly,” she replied, as the other nodded. “Dr Mendelssohn Moon, in this instance,” she confirmed, “anyway, it’s a similar situation there….although obviously the tanners take the taps with the tawse. So shall we say three strokes for spying….doubled, as you described. Assume the Position, Rodney….and Jillian will dish your discipline.” He gave her a glance which would have torched toast at twenty paces. Then he arose, flipped the Skirt Of Learning across his back with an obvious expertise borne with plenty of practice, and bent down for his beating. “I think angled a little to the left,” said the Waitress, “so several more Customers can see his seat swished.” She watched whilst he slowly shimmied around, and sure enough his hittable hiney became more visible. Then the Waitress took the cane from her apron, and flexed it firmly between her fingers.
Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk
“Yeeee..HEEE..EEEE….” he yelped as three staccato styles strokes arrived without warning, “….THREE, thank you, MISS. I’m so sorry for Ogling Obviously Over you, Ma’am.” Second and subsequent such were worse, since they struck the same spot.
Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk
“Yarooo..OOO..HOO….SIX, thank you, MISS,” he gasped, “all right, I admit I DID have dirty designs upon this possible previous prefect….” gotcha, “….since I rather recognize the style of a scholar from The Styx. Though I accept the idea of Indecent Intent is always worth the whacks.” Quod Erat Demonstrandum, or Thus It Has Been Proved. A crime not quite committed was always ample justification for beating a bad boy’s bare bottom.
Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk
“Yikes..YIKES..YIKES….NINE, thank you so much, MISS,” he gasped, “thank you for showing me the error of my ways.” There was a round of applause from an obviously appreciative audience. “AHHHH,” gasped a returning Richard Sharp, as he resumed his seat. “Would you pass an erection inspection, bad boy….?” asked Jillian, and Rodney shook his head, “….so three more, for Being Bothered By Beating.” As apparently they’d always said at Tanningtown Templar, and now appeared to be the case at St Sticks….and also here.
Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk Swishhhhthwackkkk
“Yeowww..OWWW..WOWW….TWELVE,” he gasped, “a dozen due, thank you, MISS….ohh,” he added as his stripes were stroked with the stick. “We’ll be away shortly, Rodney,” said his companion, putting a wad of currency notes on the table, “so sort yourself, and look lively. I’ll be generous, and put your punishment towards my cunt currency, when we get to The Tanningtown Toweren for our sex session in a de Sade Salon.” So clearly she was some sort of high-class Hooker, since such suites were the premium price product for the Noe Telle hotel.
She stood up, and ambled across to them. “Thank you for your assistance,” she said, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you hailed from The Six Sneaks….” rumbled again, “….but it’s given my client his money’s worth in humbling and humiliation. He wanted to revisit the rattan, preferably in public….” the same as Shagger’s Schoolday Sojourns, but a paying proposition, “….you’ve certainly helped his hiney have them….here’s my Calling Card.” Mind you, as an alumna, or Sometime Scholar of St Sticks, she’d also enjoyed her share of something similar….with more to follow, hopefully?
Fiona Frayling
Extremely Expensive Escort
Buy me dinner before your best-ever bonk
Outcalls only: freefone: 0800 234697
Then she saw Richard Sharp staring with what appeared to be more than simple curiosity? “Pardon my impertinence, Ma’am,” he asked, “but I just wonder whether you might be related in any way to a Templar tanner called James Stainham? There does seem to be a fairly strong similarly in your facial features.” She smiled. “He’s my sinful son,” she replied, “since I use my Maiden name for professional purposes….” probably she’d been….well, Feeling Frail at school? “….presumably you must have met him at some stage during his Exchange visit to St Sticks?” He nodded. “I’m afraid he annoyed me intensely by becoming a confounded Confirmed Cunt Casanova….no offence, Ma’am….” she waved her hands, “none taken,” she replied, “….in the short time available.”
She smiled widely. “He went back again during the Spring holidays,” she said, “and when he returned home, it was with a beautiful Bird in tow….apparently a previous prefect. Perhaps it’s even one of your peers, my dear….she’s called Kirstin Eis?” They both smiled, although Rick The Prick’s was evidently an effort. “Indeed so, Ma’am,” she agreed, “The Ice Queen was one of my favourite friends, and we were two of The Magnificent Seven. She was also The Sex Slut Of St Stricktlands School for Year LXXXVIII.”
The more mature Madam nodded. “I was delighted to discover it,” she said, “since I’d have been mortified to find he’d hooked himself up to a shrinking violet….” which was what happened whenever one was presented with a pulsing penis, “….but he’s said he’ll love her all the way to Leeds University. Hopefully, they may end up with an enjoyable year there together….A-Levels permitting. It’s looking good, since she turned up at our house over the recent half term holiday weekend. It included a traditional threesome, with two fellas fucking a floozy….” so who was the second stud?” ….another sometime scholar from The Styx, and our own street….by the name of Goring….” so Herman The German, “….they showed her the sights of Tanningtown, and I’m sure she did the same….” very droll….” clearly not a concerned parent, worried about how her son was being cradle-snatched by some sort of senior slut.
She paused, and glanced at her client, who was now standing silently and respectfully, “….Rodney’s ready….well, probably in more ways than one. Do enjoy your evening.” She winked once, and strutted away. The bad boy quickly followed, in the classic canees’ gait of guilt: Look At Me, it said to the restaurant at large, I’ve Just Been Caned.
“How did you do with the drinks, Richard?” she asked. “Fine,” he replied, “apart from the fact I failed to remember what day of the week it was. My mind went to mush when faced with such a second sexy Siren. She’ll bring them across shortly….no, now.” Another Waitress strutted up, and this time it was June. “Here’s your Gestapo Girl Gin and Tunic Tonic on the nuts, Madam,” she said, setting it down, “together with one Whiplash Whisky. I’ve also brought a bottle of Sham Pain Champagne….” what wit, “….with the compliments of the house, since Daffy says you’ve cause for celebration….” she paused, “….it’ll be one lash for Leching longingly Like A Loser….” she strutted away, and his eyes followed her fanny, “….two,” she called out over her shoulder. “I don’t stand a chance, Domme,” he muttered, “the deck’s simply stacked….” he smiled suddenly, “….as well as the Waitresses….” deftly, he opened the bottle, and poured out two glasses, “….Bottoms Up….” the official school toast, “….to us,” she added as they touched them together….CHINKK, and they drank deeply.
Then Jillian arrived with the starters, and set them down. “I’ll admit I’m mildly miffed about sodding Stun’em,” he said, starting to eat, “as I said to him at the time, he waltzes in and walks away having fucked Fuck Me Senseless, senseless. Then somehow he gets off with a Teutonically tall and statuesque blonde bombshell. It’s the same sort of sodding stunt sodding Shagger seems to pull so successfully.” She shrugged. “Credit where it’s due, Richard,” she said, “it’s not his fault the lovely Lisa McFee-Sven-Sless usually goes for sixdy-sixdy switches….” six dozen to the gross, or even-steven, “….but copulating Kirstin’s cute cunt is something you could have encompassed easily enough. Hell it’s not as though she’s a disciplinary Domme. She edges eighdy to fordy, sliding towards the submissive side of the spectrum. What was it stopped you knocking on her study door and asking for a screw….apart from the minor matter of macho male pride?”
He nodded. “I give in, Domme,” he admitted, ruefully, “you’re the third lovely Lady who’s successfully shown me my shortcomings….well, the fourth if you include Brenda Smith. But I was taken to task last term by Primula Proffer, who’s a new teacher. She was another professional prostitute….Leopard-skin Lucy of Letchhampton. I was pleased to poke her….and yes, coitus came by kind courtesy of your dratted dearest David. She told me several home truths about myself, which hurt rather more than her hitting my hiney….” they MUST have been bad? “….which were reinforced a few days ago by Daphne Saffron, as I said….” he took a sorrowful mouthful of whelk, “….so, moving on to a less confusing subject. As you know, I was away when you visited last term. Perhaps I could have your take on what happened in The Swimming Pool? Apparently it was all do with revenge by Brownie Babes, the former first Lady of the Philippines, plus poetry?”
Pretty close. “It was wet,” she confirmed, “and I certainly ended up thrown in fully clothed. Fortunately it was only the shallow end, since my wrists had been bound. But they’d re-written A A Milne’s classic poem, Bad Sir Brian Botany. I was cast in the lead role as Grizelda….more like Imelda. It was somewhat unkind, although I accept I have quite a collection of kinky boots….” she saw him shiver slightly, so clearly they’d find favour whilst fucking in the future, “….as you say, it was getting their own back for what I’d done to them previously as a prefect. Since I was playing In The Pink, we were all dished Detentions by Nasty Girl….which was the one I’ve just done. My Lines were: The Swimming Pool is out of bounds to scholars at all times apart from during lessons. I’m afraid so many of my sins have found me out.” She swallowed the final prawn, and mopped her mouth. “Thanks for sharing,” he said, “I’m glad it’s not just me who’s had to examine themselves in the mirror, and found wanting.”
Then Jillian arrived with their main courses, and set them down. “You were going to tell me all about Alf,” he said, “the lorry driver whom we passed somewhat closely on our way here.” Precipitously so, she agreed, having had to swerve back onto the left side of the road. But she’d been making her beau into a balls bulb boy at the time, and hadn’t been concentrating on doing the driving. “I met him this morning at Harry’s Homemade Hamburgers,” she explained, “since after the cretin wouldn’t back up his lorry a few feet, I got out of the car to remonstrate with him. It was all very odd, since as soon as he saw how I was basically bare below the belt, the colour drained out of his face. He told me I’d a nice back and front….” cockney rhyming slang for cunt, “….and he didn’t mean no offence, despite the unintended double negative. Then he crept away, imploring me not to knee his nuts. Seconds later, he’d reversed, and I was parked tidily by the main entrance. I could only assume he’s had dealings with a Domme….so to speak, and ended up worse for wear.”
The Waitress sniggered suddenly. “Was it Alf’s Transport, by any chance, Madam?” she asked, as she collected their empties. “Yes, Miss,” she agreed. “Shirley and I are guilty as charged, Madam,” she replied, “we met him in similar circumstances only a few days ago. It was on our way back here after our Shagger’s Schoolday Sojourn, when we too were Driving Dubiously Dressed. We gave him the knee, prior to kicking his crotch and then letting down all his lorry tyres. Apparently according to his comrades, we weren’t the first lovely Ladies to do so. However, it appears he’s finally learned his lesson.” Nice to know, as the Waitress strutted away. “I’m flattered you like me so much, Richard,” she said, over her shoulder, “but I do diffidently point out you’re on three ogles already.” Oops….as again they both started to eat. She really WAS hungry, having only had snacks during the day.
