Chapter 242 - part (4) of (4)

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“A stiff gin, Davy,” said his dad, offering him a small glass, “for two stiffies….” he glanced down, and sure enough they were both still supporting straining shafts, “….and who might have become two stiffs, had things turned out differently….” very droll, as he downed it in two swallows, “….Lynda’s out again, and Helen’s humping Low IQ. As we’ve both been VERY bad boys, perhaps we ought to knacker each other’s nuts….with some Knacky Smacky?” He nodded.

 

“Now I’m over eighteen, dad,” he said, “we’re both consenting adults. But since Mum’s left her cane handy, I could do you some Knacky Whacky.” There was a wide smile. “NOW you’re talking, Davy,” he said, “this was always one of my favourite forms of fetish fun….when we were prefects, and with some of my firm friends who were switches.” He collected the cane, and they stood beside each other. “Ohh….” he gasped as his testicles were tweaked, “….ohh,” echoed his paternal parent…..THWACKK “….Oww….AHHH….” SMACKK “….Oww….AHHH,” he gasped as he was knackered and spanked together.

 

Several more minutes of posterior pain passed…..SMACKK “….Oww….AHHH….would you care to do a St Stickshake, Davy?” he asked….WHACKK “….Oww….AHHH….definitely, dad….” he replied, “….you call first.” He set down the cane as his gonads were….well, girded. “One, “….AHH, “….Two, “….AHH, “….Three, “….AHH, “….Four, “….AHH, “….Five, “….AHH, “….Six, “….AHH, “….Seven….” ….AHH,” he gasped, as his philandering father counted. Now it was his turn to say the rhyme, “….No, “….AHH, “….Bad, “….AHH, “….Boys, “….AHH, “….Will, “….AHH, “….Go, “….AHH, “….To, “….AHH, “….Heaven,” ….AHH,” his dastardly dad concluded as they let each other loose.

 

“We might say the fault was more mine, Davy,” he said, “for leading the younger generation astray?” He shrugged. “So shall we say three strokes, dad,” he said, picking up the cane again, “although I was quite capable of doing my own straying….so to speak. Bend over, bad boy….nice and tight.” He duly did so. “Please Sir,” he said, “be HARD with me….as I’m hard with you, Sir.” One of the many standard subbie swishing sentiments, of which there were around a couple of dozen, with various variations. Most likely he used them all on occasion?

 

SWISHHTHWACKKKK

“ONE, thank you, SIR,” he said flatly, and achieving canees’ privilege. It was no mean feat, considering the quantity of cuts his raw rear had recently received from the rattan.

 

SWISHHTHWACKKKK

“Ooo….TWO, thank you, SIR,” he said with a slight gasp.

 

SWISHHTHWACKKKK

“Yeee….THREE, thank you, SIR,” he yelped, “thank you for swishing me, Sir. It really does me proud, to be swished soundly by my suitably strict son….” it was good to be appreciated, if not necessarily for the right reason, “….now I suggest we relieve ourselves with some porn.” He nodded. “Most definitely, dad,” he said, “since no sex means no Caning For Cunt, either.” His philandering father nodded neatly, padded to the bureau, and took out Spread Slit Specials. “I liked the look of the lovely Lady on this month’s page 3, Davy,” he said, placing it open onto the table.

 

“Very choice, dad,” he agreed, “they always do have plenty of pokeable pussy pictures….” they took themselves in hand again, “….we want cunt….UHHH….Ma’am,” he moaned all over again, imagining standing starkers and stroking his shaft. But hell….he’d only just done so for real with two professional prostitutes in a public park, “….we can’t get cunt….Ma’am….UHHH,” George Shagton continued, “I’m a wanker boy….UHHH….cunt….UHHH….cunt….UHHH….MA’AM.” They’d soon both be spunking.

 

Then he heard the sound of a car approaching, and stopping on the drive. “Disappear, Davy,” he urged, “it must be your Mother. I’ll head her off here at the pass, so to speak….and confess my crime.” He nodded, and padded quickly upstairs. Then he heard the front door opening. “I’m home, George,” she called out, “is David with you?” There was a brief pause. “He’s gone to bed, Helen,” he replied. “GEORGE,” she shouted, “what the FUCK do you think you’re doing….?” SLAPP “….Oww….” SLAPP “….Oww,” he gasped, “….the moment my back’s turned, and yet again you’re up to no good….” and she hadn’t been?

 

However this cut no ice, as it never did, “….it’ll be the standard six strokes for the Perusal of Pornographic Publications. At least I was able to stop you stroking before you spurted over some slut’s slit. So bend over, bad boy….and then we’ll attend to your Caning For Cunt. Afterwards, you can fuck me on the floor. I’m still on a sexual high, and feeling really randy.” Ouch….as he retreated into his bedroom. Her currency was a nasty nine, so it would be a thorough thirdeen for him….formerly a frightful fifteen.

 

Obviously both his parents would be occupied for quite some time, so he might as well finish himself off before sleeping. He opened his bedside cabinet, and pulled out the copy of CFnm he’d purchased at TanningtowN JunctioN on Departure Day. It had been in the second drawer down, as always the repository for sinful stuff. Then he opened it up at the centre spread, which featured a Clothed Female holding hands on hips in accusatory fashion. At her feet was a cowering middle-aged naked male, sporting a straining shaft and soundly spanked seat. On the floor lay several porn publications. The caption stated how His Wife DOES understand him.

 

Hadn’t this scenario been more or less exactly what he’d so recently achieved in real life? But it had been in a public park, with two professional prostitutes dressed as Trinians Tarts? In one way it was a pity there wasn’t the photographic evidence of his exposure….but it was a small price to pay for freedom. “UHHH….UHHH,” he moaned, whilst wanking worthlessly, “I’m sorry for stroking, Ma’am,” he muttered, “perhaps….UHHH….I should be whipped outside in the garden again….UHHH….where all the neighbours can watch….UHHH….punish me for purchasing and perusing porn….UHHH….beat the naughtiness out of me….UHHH….I beg you….UHHH….YESS….YESS….YESS.”

 

He took a tissue, and mopped up the mess before disposing of the débris in the wastepaper basket. Should he shower? Maybe in the morning, since suddenly he felt terribly tired. In the afterglow of sexual self-satisfaction, he slipped between the sheets. Hopefully he’d have a good night’s sleep, although he wasn’t counting on it. With a little luck, he wouldn’t have to relive the chase from the public pond too often? Indecent images of seated sinful schoolgirls flashed in front of his eyes, followed by several slits from the Slut Circle Session. Slowly, he slept.        

* * * * * *

 

The time was 11.41am on Wednesday morning, and he was sitting at his ease in the lounge. He was reading WANKER! with its exhortation to Feel the shame of taking your favourite magazine to the checkout Lady. The delicious damsels’ disdain and disgust for dicks always worked wonders with a wanked willy. It was the readers’ page, which contained all manner of cries from the heart….and lower down. Inevitably they were from sad souls who had to get themselves off by looking at the lovely Ladies leering at the losers. Any one of the letters could easily have been his….had it not been for St Sticks.

 

Then he heard the telephone ring. “Answer it, someone,” he called out. Several seconds later Lynda emerged, wide-eyed. “It’s the Police, Davy,” she said, “an Inspector Lance Sceptre. His kind compliments, and can he speak to you most urgently.” Oops….as his heart was suddenly in his mouth. “Go upstairs, Lyn,” he said sternly, “and no Eavesdropping on the extension in Mum’s bedroom, either.” She stitched an expression of hurt. “Perish the thought, Sir,” she said, flouncing out of the room.

 

He set down his glass of wine, followed her into the hall, and picked up the handset. Most likely there would already be one person listening in to the conversation, and he could do without anyone else. “David Shagton speaking,” he said heartily, attempting to avoid any tremors in his voice, ones which might imply guilt? “Good morning, Shagger,” he asked, “did you have an entertaining weekend?” Was this a leading question? “So-so, Sir,” he replied, automatically adding the Salutation. “It seems on Sunday evening you were the victim of unwelcome attentions from Flasher Frederique at the Letchhampton Lido,” he said, “I did mention to you about the installation of CCTV on all the area around the public pond, so we saw everything which happened. Your face was very visible.”

 

Exactly as he’d feared. “Yes, Sir,” he replied, suddenly very hot under the collar, “although I wouldn’t wish to make any complaint.” Maybe he might be all right, after all? “Which is your prerogative,” he said, “so I shall just ask you a couple of formal Questions. First of all, do you still have the filthy photos you were seen taking of your assailant?” Oh, dear. “No, Sir,” he replied. “Did you dispose of the evidence?” he probed. “No, Sir,” he repeated, “at the risk of implicating myself somewhat, it wasn’t my camera.” There was a long pause. “I guessed as much,” he said, “the same sordid saga for the second Sunday in a row. Last week’s escapade was with another so-called adult schoolboy, although again one whose identity was already known to me. After all, I’ve hit his hiney often enough at the Class Caning Club.”

 

Guilty as charged, it seemed. “I was slightly surprised there didn’t seem to be any Police presence on Sunday, Sir.” he ventured, “if you’ll forgive the impertinence. I’ve noticed in the past how it seems to be one rule for the wretches and none at all for the nubiles.” There was a slight sniff. “I’m afraid you’re right, Shagger,” he said heavily, “my Officers seemed much more interested in some CCTV voyeurism than catching the criminal concerned. I’m sorry to say it was exactly the same situation on the previous Sunday…..” so she’d definitely been lucky twice in a row, “….however turning to Monday evening’s illicit activities….” Oops, “….when we really thought we had both Flasher Fred and Panty Pervert Pete cornered….” which they very nearly HAD been, “….at least we officially now know they’re not the same person.....” a brilliant deduction, “….except they were able to hot-foot it to the woods and make good their escapes….” he cringed quietly, “….have you ever met Peter Purvis?”

 

A question easily answered, and totally truthfully. “No, Sir,” he said sincerely….but not with the whole truth. “I’m sorry to say my enquiries appear to have been hindered at every turn,” he continued, “PC Dunn was left in charge, whilst the three other Officers attempted apprehension.  In case you’re interested, it  was PC Arnold Stitcher….” he interrupted, “….who suffers from stitches, Sir?” he suggested, “….which sounds about right, Shagger. Although Arnie was actually known at St Judes School as Stitcher The Snitcher, owing to his tendency to Shop his peers.

 

Your second assailant was PC Cyril Weedon….alas called Wee’d On at St Dudes for many years, despite him being a Dominant dolt. I believe most bad boys were very careful not to speak his nickname anywhere within his hearing, lest their nuts be knackered. Obviously, he had to put up with it from the guilty girls….not having gonads to grab and grind. The third Officer, who comforted your Happy Hookers, was PC Leonard Jukes….not for nothing at the nick known as Jokes. I’m afraid most of his humour is rather rude, although occasionally quite witty. I’m really becoming quite concerned about his physical fitness, and maybe he might have to be put onto an improvement programme….but I digress.

 

When they all eventually returned to the station, apparently there’d been a problem with the AudioVisual Record on the CCTV system.  Unaccountably, the entire incident had been wiped…..” excellent, so thanks James, “….as Panty Pervert Pete probably saw from the Pavilion, they interviewed Leopard-skin Lucy and Mad Madam Min at the scene of the crime. Both the innocent young Ladies….I use the phrase advisedly….” with good reason, “….claimed he walked with a limp, talked with a lisp, and bore a tattoo with the legend of I Love Lucy….” the same as his Jewel had once stated, “….following which, Wee’d On thought he might have seen their two suspects boarding a taxi at the Pavilion.  There was another possible witness, one Miss Evie Sutton…..” Oh, dear, “….who later claimed she’d been talking on the phone all the time, and hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary….” phew, “….although she did seem very enthusiastic about attending the Police station.

 

We checked with Post Office Telephones, who are recording all calls made from the Pavilion public phone box for us....” as Pillar The Filler had said, “….and were able to confirm one had been placed to the offices of Central Despatch. However owing to an equipment fault at the exchange, the actual conversation had been lost….” thus many thanks to Filly, too, “….so alas the hard evidence is all gone. I’ve since spoken to the driver who took the fare, one Wok Peace….” he cringed quietly, “….whereupon I was treated all over again to the same sorry saga of limps, lisps and tattoos. He assured me how your….I do beg your pardon, their destination was The Bare Pit, where he reckoned they had a hideout….” good thinking, “….however, there the trail went cold. As all the witnesses have collectively conspired to cover up the crime, you’re both off the hook. It also goes for the Happy Hookers, who I have every reason to believe were completely complicit. The leopard-skin motif naughty knickers were a bit of a giveaway….” fair comment, “….and although I don’t believe in coincidences, it’s not proof. However I must most cordially urge you not to repeat the exercise again, at least not round here….” he paused, after this homily, “….would you care to comment….unofficially. I promise anything you say will stay between the two of us, and go no further.” Apart perhaps from the Intercept Operator?

 

He took a deep breath at another lucky escape from the clutches of the local law. “Flasher Fred….err….I mean my philandering father,” he said, “was always one to warn me about the thin dividing line between role-play and reality. I accept and apologise for it becoming almost invisible of late. But for what it’s worth, it was actually the lovely Ladies’ idea of a reward….for the romantic candle-lit dinner they’d just enjoyed. There wasn’t even any sex involved….paid or otherwise….” he had another thought, “….however I’ve a suggestion for you regarding Flasher Frederique. Perhaps you might care to interview Veronica Bickington again, of № 67 SIDE STREET, again. I….err….happened to be speaking to her on Monday morning. I mentioned about Panty Pervert Pete’s private peccadilloes at LET’S BE ’AVIN’ YOU. She said she shares similar filthy fantasies….ones which involve being beaten about a bit, and slung into the cells. She really rather relishes rape….albeit obviously only of the consensual kind, the same as our mutual friend Julia Peterson. Maybe there might be some mileage in something similar for Icky Bicky….and afterwards you might find Flasher Frederique’s no longer such a sex-pest and public pervert?”

 

There was a sudden suspicious Clickk, and he suspected the line was definitely still being tapped. “Thank you, Shagger,” he said, “I’ve also had PC Dunn interview her on a couple of occasions, however he’s always reported back about her being whiter-than-white.” Hardly surprising in the circumstances. “It’s not for me to officially Shop him, Sir,” he said, “however shall we say his professional competence may have been coloured, if not compromised, by her cute cunt. However, she has a hold over him, being well aware of how he’s one of Fifi’s residual calling customers. As you know, Antonia’s vitriolic vanilla….the same as your ex-Wife, Sir. We all have our crosses to bear, one way or another….” he wouldn’t worry with any mentions of the sordid sex session on Monday morning. Then it had been his philandering father who’d borne the cross, so to speak, and Done who’d….well, done the discipline, “….we DID have an interesting chat with Miss Evie Sutton. She’s asked either or both of us to visit her at home.  Apparently, she’s an easy slut in urgent need of amorous attention. However, she also mentioned enjoying the idea of an interrogation and session in the cells, so I think you’ve yet another volunteer. She certainly seemed terribly taken with PCs Weedon, Jukes and Stitcher….pokeable Policemen, as she called them.”

 

Hopefully this would help? “Thank you, Shagger,” he said, “this may well flush out Flasher Frederique. James and I will address our naughty needs, and a sinful subbie slut will be spanked, swished and screwed senseless under carefully controlled conditions. I don’t suppose by any chance you happen to have Miss Sutton’s phone number? I can call her, to ascertain whether she too might care to attend one Sunday evening?” What was it? “It’s 36941, Sir,” he replied, “and № 23 EXPRESS WAY.”

 

Then there was a loud CLICKK. “Excuse me for butting in….Sir,” said Pillar the Filler, “I’m on the Intercept Desk. I’m afraid it was entirely my fault for the failures of the other evening. Perhaps I too should be interrogated, taken to task, tush tanned and twat treated terribly. Just name the day, Sir.” There was a short silence. “Do you know your line’s being tapped, Shagger?” he asked, “although it isn’t the Police who’ve requested it.” No….whistle it to me. “Yes, Sir,” he said instead, “Filly’s been on the case for months. It’s been her brief to help stamp out sex-pest telephone calls. We’ve….err….since met to discuss the matter, and much else. I’m sure you’ll find her to be a wilful, witty and willing wanton wicked wench. Unlike Icky Bicky, she’s a sixdy-sixdy switch….so can always apply a Caning For Cunt.”

 

There were two sniggers. “Nice to know, Shagger,” he said, “Jewel’s also been down here for such a session….” something else he hadn’t known, “….we’re always happy to have various vivacious vixens as volunteers for vapulation….” a good grandiloquism, meaning flogging or flogged, “….before you go, how did you get on with your A-Levels?” This at least wasn’t such a sensitive subject. “I achieved an A and two Bs,” he replied, “so Panty Pervert Pete will be out of your hair to Lancashire in September, Sir. But there’s still the holidays, and I’ll be pleased to take up your previous offer of a second session in the cells sometime, Sir. Also, we may well meet again at the Central Letchhampton Adult School Sessions, of which we’re both members….in addition to Stephen Hinks.”

 

There was a girlish giggle. “Ooh….Inspector Sceptre….SIR,” she said, “I haven’t heard about this Club. Perhaps you might tell all….and how to join. You’ll understand we telephone operators live somewhat sheltered and secluded lives.” So she’d said once before, “We’re finished, Shagger,” he said, “although I’d like to continue my other conversation. Have a nice day.” He replaced the receiver….with reluctance.

 

“Excellently well handled, Sir,” said his father from the kitchen, “even though obviously I only heard half the conversation. However you certainly seemed to have everything under control. Frederick and Peter Purvis will definitely have to lie low for the foreseeable future.” He nodded, before returning to the lounge. It had been another narrow escape, and his heart was still thumping. He sat down, sipped his glass of wine, and picked up WANKER! again. Yes….things were far simpler in the realms of fantasy. He smiled inwardly as his mind moved forward.

 

In two days’ time he’d be travelling up to London, for further fun and fucking frolics. At least in On-Stage Stooge everyone was attending on a voluntary basis. Panty Pervert Pete and Wanker Boy Will would be able to play with penis and spurt their shafts in front of an absolutely appreciative audience. It was erotic exposure and exhibitionism on a grand scale, just as he enjoyed it most….and wholly legal. Mentally he prepared himself for an exacting afternoon of….well, much the same. However, he’d a night of naughty nooky booked with the ravishing redhead Ginger Rogers for today, and fuckable Fleur Phelps for Thursday. Following his Friday and Saturday morning sojourns in the capital, there’d be an unspecified time of trials and tribulations taken in the Pennance Reformatory.

 

Further floozies would follow, all awaiting confirmation, which would bring him to a week of woes at Summer School, with his wedding at the end of it all. As for his honeymoon, it would start with a Working Week at Bindery House. His beautiful bride would be there, and he’d be able to….well, Start-As-You-Mean-To-Go-On with suitable slave service. She’d certainly show him some Superiority, take him down and put him properly in his place. Afterwards, they’d be travelling all around the British Isles. When they returned home, it would be time to think about preparing for Lancashire, and finding a Flat. With a ménage-à-cinq, he’d have four floozies to fuck, before any local lasses were….well, laid.

 

He raised his glass to Sir Digby Vaillance. “Bottoms Up,” he said to the empty air. It would certainly be so for him, since part of the deal was a spanking and stick session once a month with the Chancellor at The Tell-tale Tit. His tame Tarts too would be screwed and swished similarly. Still….it was a small price to pay, Anyway, he enjoyed such submission sessions with the noble knight. Life there should be good, especially with the power of patronage to help oil the wheels….if not weals. “Definitely Bottoms up,” he repeated wryly, draining his glass. A light lunch, quite possibly with the Nude Waitress wear by his sinful Sister, should only be a few minutes away.

To be continued……                        

could consider cane

Chapter 242 - part (3) of (4)

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 The time was 4.42pm, when they were ready to roll. “He’s here, dad,” he said, as he saw a taxi reverse into the driveway. Carefully, they both carried a couple of containers out of the kitchen. He locked the door, putting a key under the mat….just in case everyone was out when they returned. Alas, they’d presently no pockets in which to store it. “Hello again, Wok….” he said as they climbed into the back seats, “….ahhh….thanks for being so circumspect….ahhh….since we’re essentially Driving Dubiously Dressed.”

 

The car moved forward, and into ACACIA AVENUE. “Where to, guv’nors?” he asked, “somewhere seedy and suspect, I suppose?” Indeed. “We want № 7 ALSATIAN ALLEY,” he replied, “on the Really Rough estate.” They turned onto the main road, and headed towards town. “Mad Madam Min’s?” he suggested sourly. “Yes,” he replied, “we’re meeting Minette and Primula in order to give them dinner.” The taxi driver glanced in his rear mirror with what amounted to degree level doubt. “But presumably with what-ho….well, on the menu afterwards?” he probed. “No,” he replied, “since they both have quality clients booked for seven o’clock.”

 

There was a long silence until the reached the HIGH STREET. “I see the old war wounds are giving trouble again, guv’nors,” he said knowingly, “but what’s with the pink bowties and high heels?” He gestured towards Georgie Boy. “This is the Naked waiter wear,” he explained, “a slight misnomer, but not enough to make much difference. Needless to say, we’ll be spanked and swished soundly for shoddy service. It’s all very endearing….and engagingly erotic entertainment. I can commend it, if you’ve never tried it with a Tart….so to speak.”

 

The shops finally finished, and then they were out again in the suburban streets. “Any idea who might be able to able to give a novice a go?” he asked. “My good Lady Wife would be happy to help,” said George Shagton, “which is simply for starters….again, so to speak. Since she’s a slut, she’ll subsequently screw you….” he sniggered, “….I know you’ve been laying the luscious Lynda, so it’s a case of like Mother like daughter. You have our phone number, so give her a call.” He winked once. “Thanks guv,” he said, “you’re a real toff.” Not to mention cuckold. Now they were entering the Really Rough estate, and as always it certainly showed from the state of the houses. Several minutes later they reach SENSATIONALLY, as it was known….owing to the large number of practicing prostitutes located along its length.

 

They stopped outside № 7, picked up the catering cartons, and climbed out. “Until later, Wok,” he said, as the taxi started away quickly….before someone stole its wheels. They strutted up the untidy front garden, a hallmark of the street, and reached the shabby front door….DING DONG.

 

Several seconds later, it opened to reveal Minette Madeira, dressed as a Trinians Tart. As a large and luscious lovely Lady, it was perfectly possible she couldn’t quite fit into her previous school uniform….whatever it might have been? “Step inside, bad boys,” she said invitingly, “Primula’s present, and we’re ready and waiting to begin in the lounge….” she closed the door behind them, “….we thought you’d both like us dressed like this….” quite correct, “….although I never kept any of my school stuff. A bad decision, since you’d be amazed at how many calling clients like to screw schoolgirl sluts….” maybe not? “….can you kindly carry the cartons into the kitchen, so you can sort it all out.”

 

They followed her through the hallway. “Which school did you actually attend, Min?” he asked. “It was St Dominics, Shagger,” she replied, “an all-girls school, known inevitably as St Dommes. As you might expect, the uniform colour was black….” SMACKK “….Oww,” he gasped, from a Sexist Smack, “….one for you too, Georgie Boy….” SMACKKK “….Oww,” he repeated, “….since you have equally neat little bottoms. They’re both simply Asking for the cane….” so at least another two dollars, “….be assured we’ll be expecting impeccable attention. Any substandard service will be spanked and swished.”

 

She winked once, wiggled her waist fetchingly, and strutted out of the room. “It’s the second time in a week I’ve been treated to Trinians Tarts, dad….” he said, decanting the stew and poached pumpkins into separate tureens, “….since the Misses Ebenella Yvonne Edith Scranthorpe and Hawthorn Agnes Guillam role-play them. Eyes and Hag help out Strict Sarah, as I discovered on Departure Day.” He put the food into the already hot oven, and added four dinner plates. “There’s white and red wine uncorked, Davy,” he said, “shall we take one each and show ourselves off to our Hostesses? Best take a towel under an arm.”

 

He nodded, as they each picked one up, together with a bottle, and strutted back to the lounge. Inside it was as advertised, with two standing sinful schoolgirls dressed in Trinians togs….rolled up skirts with the Tart’s Trademark. As for the rest, they were the proverbial disgrace to the uniform. Both ties were loose, blouses with buttons undone, and much makeup. “Good evening, Mesdames,” he said politely, “please allow us to seat you, and we’ll make a start with some wine.” They moved into place, and they each shifted the chairs forward to the table. It had been immaculately laid out, complete with candles lit, with the inclusion of a sturdy slipper and stout stick.

 

“White or red, Mesdames?” he asked. “Red please, waiter,” muttered Mad Madam Min, and his philandering father offered her a taster. She acquiesced, and he poured out a full glass. “White please,” said Prim And Proper….something which she most definitely wasn’t at this moment. “This isn’t chilled, waiter,” she said, wrinkling her nose as she sipped it, “….which is what white wine should be. Bend over at once….” she could always have put it into the fridge herself? “….with another whack for attempting to transfer the blame….” so HER apparent mind reading abilities were also working well, “….you can take all our posterior punishments with the Rapid Responses.” Which were rather rare, but at least there’d be no need for a cut count, any affirmations of appreciation or some suitable salutation.

 

“So sorry, Madame,” he said, adopting the Position….Swishhhthwackkk “….OWW….” Swishhhthwackkk “….OWW,” he gasped. “I like the look of his hit hiney in high heels, Primula,” said Mad Madam Min. “They help to balance the body further forward,” she replied, “for an acuter angle of attack….and so much sexier. Is it any wonder so many mere males harbour filthy fantasies for flogged floozies dressed as schoolgirls? But pour my glass anyway, and I’ll manage….” he arose, and filled it for her. “Bottoms Up, Min….which is the St Sticks’ official toast.” Chinkk they went. “Bottoms up indeed, Primula,” she said, “can we have some starters?” They strutted out of the room.

 

“I’m sorry you drew the short straw, Davy,” he said as they reached the kitchen. “You’ll still suffer some stick,” he replied sourly, as they prepared four plates of prawn cocktail. “You do them, dad,” he suggested, “since I’m sure they’ll find fault. There was a neat nod, and he strutted out of the kitchen. He stirred the stew in readiness, and poured out two portions for themselves. As he started to eat his own prawns, he could hear sounds of a swished and spanked seat from the lounge….so someone was satisfied. He’d stay standing, rather than any attempt to sit down.

 

Then his philandering father returned, wearing a wide smile. “It was six sound spanks from Madam Min, Davy,” he said happily, “and two stingers from Primula.” He wouldn’t worry with the whys, as he finished his first course, and waited whilst his paternal parent did the same. “Take the tureen, Davy,” he said, “and I’ll bring their hot plates.” Together, they strutted into the lounge. “We have best beef stew….” he announced, setting it down whilst the new crockery was placed ready. He ladled it out carefully, “….Mesdames have two dumplings each, dad….” he announced with delicious ambiguity….SLAPP “….Ahh….” SLAPP “….Ahh,” he gasped as they each slapped his face.

 

“Bend over this instant, waiter,” said Primula Proffer, stroking her chest, “and there I was, thinking you were a bums boy.” Swishhhthwackkk “….OWW….” Swishhhthwackkk “….OWW,” he gasped. “Such cheek,” she said sternly, “well, cheeks, anyway.” He arose, and together they strutted back into the kitchen. “Well done, Davy,” he said, “very witty….I was going to say something similar.” Together, they started on their own stew. “You can do a double entendre on the dessert, dad,” he said darkly.

 

His philandering father had finished first, so he’d gone to collect the plates, and refill their glasses. From the subsequent sounds of swishing and slippering, he hadn’t exactly excelled himself. “Somehow I succeeded in spilling both wines, Davy….” he said with a wide smile, as he opened the oven, and removed the remaining dishes, “….can you kindly bring the coffee and hot milk jugs?” He nodded, as together they strutted back into the lounge. “Davy did the desserts, Mesdames,” he said, setting them down, “and you both have perfect pumpkins….” SLAPP “….Ahh….” SLAPP “….Ahh,” he gasped. “Another blasted boobs boy,” growled Madam Min, “I’ll do him this time.” George Shagton assumed the Position, and she picked up her  slipper….SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….” SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….” SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….ohh,” he added as she fondled his fanny. “Definitely a derrière deserving discipline,” she muttered.

 

“White, black or half and half, Mesdames? he enquired. “Sixdy-sixdy for me, waiter,” said Primula Proffer, “unlike my disciplinary disposition, which edges eighdy to fordy in the direction of Domination.” Something he’d never known. “White, waiter,” said Minette Madeira. “Oops,” he said, spilling some milk onto the tablecloth. “Can’t get the staff,” she replied, “bend over at once.” SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….” SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….” SMACKK SMACKK “….Oww….ohh,” he added as HIS hiney was handled. “Leave us be,” she said, “and you can go off duty after tidying the kitchen.” They both bowed, and strutted out.

 

It was a further fifteen minutes before they’d eaten their own poached pumpkins. Alas, they’d only had water to drink, but such was life below stairs, so to speak. Then they’d stacked the dishwasher, flattened the cartons and disposed of the débris into the dustbin. Finally, they hung up their towels tidily for the last time, and strutted back into the lounge. “Thank you for a wonderful romantic candle-lit dinner,” said Minette Madeira, as they both arose, “obviously I’d like to have you both on my client base, but I accept you’re not exactly short of slit. However, we’d like to give you both a quid pro quo you’ll appreciate….” a Reciprocal Exchange, “….you’re aware we both have bookings for later….” as he’d advised Wok Peace, “….so follow us.”

 

They did so, through a door into what was clearly an integral garage, the same as Primula Proffer’s pad at № 9. Sensible….since with the number of car thieves on the estate, anything of value left unattended wouldn’t last long. “Hand me your shoes and bowties….” she said, opening the trunk of the swish saloon. They did so, and she stowed them safely, “….here’s something else to wear….” she gave them each a black Lee van Cleef cloak, which they put on, “….now it’s a black balaclava for Flasher Fred….Sir….” he supposed the salutation was since he was now wearing black, “….plus a prepared pair of Primula’s panties for Panty Pervert Pete.” Uh..huh….they were of her trademark leopard-skin motif. “Uhhh,” he moaned, slipping them over his nose, and inhaling her choice cunt scent. “You can keep them, Sir,” said Prim And Proper, “as suitable souvenirs.” The two Trinians Tarts took the front seats, with Mad Madam Min doing the driving.

 

“Ahhh….ahhh,” gasped both bad boys as they sat down in the back. Minette Madeira pressed a button on the dashboard, and the electrically operated garage door rolled open. Then she started the car, and reversed out onto the road. As they headed along ALSATIAN ALLEY, he glanced backwards to see the door closing again. “Where are we headed?” he enquired, his voice mildly muffled by the material. “To your old stamping grounds, Sir,” she replied as they reached the main road, “the Letchhampton Lido. You can be the scourge of some saintly schoolgirls….well, saucy ones, anyway.” Suddenly he felt a sinking sensation in his stomach, normally associated with impending doom, as they continued at some speed. Surely they were doing well in excess of the regulation 40mph?

 

Hadn’t his philandering father always warned him about fast floozies in fast cars? Alas he hadn’t, although perhaps he ought to have done so? “Did you decide to rent out your house, Primula?” he asked, trying to move his mind onto other matters. “Sort of, Sir,” she replied, “it’s actually an amicable arrangement with Miss Thrash. She rents it fully furnished, for her exclusive use during term time. During the holidays, we can each use it for our own clients, although I can still sleep in my own bedroom. So I’m having the house for three hours this evening, with one of my previous prime paying punters. He was more than mildly miffed about my withdrawal from the scene. He calls himself Eric Entwhistle, obviously not his real name, and is filthy rich.”

 

He had a sudden memory. “Heric Hentwhistle hov Heast ’am,” he said, “actually Sir Charles Wealdstone….” she gasped, “….and no, you never told me. I once saw him doing Rotary Redemption in the Publyc Dyſplay at the Tanningtowne Toweren. It’s essentially the same as those sordid shop windows in Amsterdam, whereby one can have huge helpings of humiliation by a passing public. His identity had been rumbled on a previous occasion when he’d been left in bed bondage. A chambermaid found his true name from clothing tags….” he paused, “….obviously his sinful secrets are safe with me….and I assume us all?” There were three nods of obvious agreement.

 

Several minutes later, they turned into LETTSBY AVENUE, passing the Police Station. Very soon they reached the public park, and parked at the Pavilion. “We’ll go on ahead, Sirs,” said Primula Proffer, “and select a seat….well away from anyone else. Perhaps you’d care to follow us down to the pond in a couple of minutes. Always assuming the coast’s clear, you can approach our bench, and bare your all. Then drop your cloaks….and do your worst with wavering willies.” They climbed out of the car. “I’ll leave it unlocked,” said Mad Madam Min, “since Sirs should be back first.” She mouthed them a kiss, as they wiggled away.

 

“I’m not entirely happy about this, dad,” he said whilst they waited, “since Inspector Sceptre definitely said the whole area by the pond’s completely covered by CCTV.” Georgie Boy simply shrugged. “Nothing happened yesterday, did it Davy?” he countered, “so hopefully the system’s down….or something. But we wouldn’t want our wanton wicked wenches to think we were wets and weeds, so we’d both better….well, grin and bare it.” What wonderful wit. “All right, dad,” he said as they emerged from the car, and shut the doors, “it’ll be our first, and possibly only, joint performance. I’ll admit I’ve always wanted to stand starkers and stroke a straining shaft at some sexy schoolgirls in a public place.” There was a wide wink. “Me too, Davy,” he said, as they continued across the car park, “like father like son.”

 

Then with his heart thumping, they padded down to the pond. Fortunately the whole area was deserted….apart from their intended victims. They sidled up to the two Trinians Tarts, sitting chatting so demurely, and stood ready in the Position For Pain. It was with their legs spread, both knees bent and leaning backwards slightly. “Panty Pervert Pete packs a pulsing penis….” he said, throwing open his cloak, “….Flasher Fred’s phallus for fucking floozies,” his philandering father added, as he did the same. Interesting….since he’d not known what wicked words were used in such sordid circumstances….FLASHH went a sudden camera held in Primula Proffer’s hand. Oops….since this would be yet more damning evidence, if this all went horribly wrong.

 

“Cloaks off completely, critters,” she said softly, “and start stroking your shafts….” they stared at each other for a long second, “….detail your deficiencies….” Oo..er, yes MA’AM, “….and disgusting deviances,” added Mad Madam Min with a wide smile, “and don’t forget to stretch your scrotums.” Most definitely. “Perhaps you should show us a little of what YOU’VE got?” he suggested as they stood starkers, and both professional prostitutes readily obliged by lifting their skirts. Now they’d be Staring At Slits, in addition to all their other sins. OMG….it was incorrigible exhibitionism of the very worst kind, and he thrilled to it. “We want to fuck floozies….UHHH….AHHH,” he gasped, tugging tool and testicles together, “….screw schoolgirl sluts….UHHH….AHHH….” put in his paternal parent, “….we want cunt….UHHH….AHHH….” FLASHH “….we can’t get cunt….UHHH….AHHH….” FLASHH “….we’re wanker boys….UHHH….AHHH….” FLASHH “….sex-pests and public per..UHHH..verts....AHHH.” Much more of this, and they’d both be spunking.

 

PEEP PEEP….he heard a Police whistle from the direction of the Pavilion. “Lumme, it’s the local law….” muttered Prim And Proper, “….scram, studs….” added Mad Madam Min as they could now see three burly Police Officers huffing hard towards them, “….see you in church.” Quickly, they collected the cloaks and bolted like frightened rabbits, scooping them over their shoulders. “Head ’em off….huhh….lads,” he heard a Copper calling out to his colleagues, “you’re both younger and fitter than me….huhh….I’ll comfort the two Trinians Tarts….huhh….I mean….huhh….innocent young Ladies.” Sure enough, only two of them remained in hot pursuit.

 

This was clearly a time to be grateful for all Ava Frasch’s kind assistance over the past term in keeping him fit.  “Huhh….huhh,” he huffed. Then his Guardian Angel wagged an ephemeral finger at him, and reminded how he’d cheated terribly during his cross-country runs. Had he completed the courses correctly, might he now be better placed? Hopefully his philandering father was in reasonable condition too? This was something they’d both find out the hard way….and in only a matter of seconds.

 

Very soon, they reached the woods. “Follow me….huhh….Davy,” he huffed, “this is where we play cops and robbers….huhh….in a copse….” what wit, as they….well, hared along the woodland path. Then he pointed suddenly, “….just ahead to the right, there’s a dense clump of rhododendrons….huhh….with a hidey-hole in the centre….huhh….back yourself inwards after me….huhh….quick as you can….huhh….rearrange the foliage behind you….huhh….we’ll be well-nigh invisible anyway….huhh….but in our black cloaks completely so….huhh….” he watched whilst his father faded out of sight, and then followed. Inside, there was indeed a small space, just large enough for perhaps three people, “….crouch, and bunch up your legs beneath you….huhh….stay completely quiet….huhh….and don’t move a mus….huhl….as we might well be here a while.” There was no doubt about it being an excellent hideout….one he’d not known existed.

 

Only a minute or so later, the two Officers arrived somewhere on the scene. “I’ve a stitch….huhh....Cyril,” complained one. “You always do….huhh….Arnie,” wheezed the other, “Stitcher by name and nature….huhh.” There was an infuriated threshing around, sounding alarmingly close, but which might easily have been twenty yards away. “Sod them, Cyril,” said the first, “they’ve gone to ground….huhh….heaven knows where….huhh….it’ll be dark soon….huhh….and they’ll be long gone by morning….huhh,” his voice rose, “….show yourselves, Panty Per….huhh….vert Pete and Flasher….huhh….Fred.” He cowered quietly, wishing he might wake up and discover it had all been a bad dream? He could hear bracken being broken and bushes beaten, but with complete camouflage inside the copse, their safety was assured. “We’ll have to give it up as a bad job, Arnie,” said the second at some length, “let’s go back and see how Lenny’s doing with the dollies.”

 

Then everything went quiet, however they waited what must have been a further five minutes before venturing out. Carefully, they continued along the length of the woodland, in order to avoid approaching anywhere near the public pond. “I was impressed with your stamina, Davy,” he said, “when doing the dash. Have A Thrash commented to me about how all her Curricular Correction Classes on the Prefects Placement Programme had helped.” With half a term’s worth of PT and Games lessons. “What about you, dad?” he asked, “seemingly surprisingly fit for someone with such a sedentary lifestyle.”

 

There was a slight smile. “You’re aware Ava’s one of my many Mistresses, Davy….?” he nodded, “….and she really puts me through my paces, prior to poking….” ohh, “….I’ve suffered several sessions in The Box Room with her at The Styx….” like him, “….in addition to her dratted Prefects PT Club in The Gymnasium. I’ve always had a view about all PT teachers being card-carrying sadists….” most definitely, “….and she matches the mould in every respect. Still, one can’t complain about her cute cunt, and she’s so lean, lithe and luscious.” Completely correct in every respect….in addition to her particular penchant for married men.

 

Finally, they reached LETTSBY AVENUE, and padded back to the Pavilion. In the middle distance, he could see all three Officers standing by his bench with the two Trinians Tarts, clearly making notes. “I’ll call for a taxi, dad….” he said, as they approached the telephone box by the building, “….it’s a freephone, which is fortunate as we’re not carrying any cash.” They both crowded inside, and his paternal parent licked his lips. “Isn’t there the minor matter of more money for the fares, Davy?” he asked. “No, dad….” he replied, dialling 0800 200069, “….I’ve already paid for two trips….when I returned home on Departure Day last week. It seemed prudent at the time, and has certainly worked out well.”

 

There was a neat nod. “Sound thinking, Davy,” he said, “I’d have mentioned it earlier, dad,” he explained, “when we arrived at Mad Madam Min’s, but had other things on my mind.” He waited several seconds. “Central Despatch,” said a villain’s voice. “Can we have Wok Peace to the Pavilion soonest possible, please?” he asked, “and it’s priority prepaid.” There was a short silence. “He’s presently in the rank at the railway station, Sir,” he said, “so should be with you shortly.” Which was a real relief, as he held the handset in his hand. “It isn’t the first time this has happened to me, Davy,” said his dastardly dad, “so I suppose I should follow my own best advice about thin dividing lines….et hoc genus omne….” And All That Sort Of Thing, “….but both your Mother and Fi have a horrid habit of shoving me out starkers onto the street.”

 

He nodded. “June Misselthrush,” he replied, “once told me how you’d called at Flower Power wearing nothing but a small sliver of sackcloth over sensitive spots….” he paused, “….she was mildly miffed you didn’t make a play for her, since she could still see your….well, interest.” There was a wide wink. “I remember it well, Davy,” he replied, “and recall thinking how she’d make an excellent Miss Thrash. Which she does, I might add, as my derrière’s since discovered….although not as a paying punter.” He’d wondered whether she’d ended up as one of his many Mistresses after all, and it appeared to be the case. “I suggest we stay put until Wok arrives, dad,” he said, “when we can repatriate these cloaks and masks into Min’s car, and also reclaim our bowties and high heels. Meantime I’ll pretend we’re still on the phone…and hope nobody else wants to make a call.”

 

Æons later it seemed, they saw a taxi pulling into the Pavilion, and park next to the Police car. “Let’s go, dad,” he said, replacing the receiver, as they both emerged. “Ooh….Panty Pervert Pete AND Flasher Fred….” said what seemed to be respectable middle-aged Lady, who’d evidently been waiting patiently to use the phone, “….it’s my lucky day. Perhaps a couple of quick flashes? I promise not to say anything to all those pokeable Policemen by the pond….” it seemed she suffered from a shortage of stud, “….although perhaps they could be persuaded to take me in for questioning? I’d really rather relish a session in the cells.”

 

He shrugged, as they both bared themselves. “Panty Pervert Pete packs a pulsing penis….” he said a second time, “….Flasher Fred’s phallus for fucking floozies,” his paternal parent repeated likewise. “Lovely….” she murmured, her mouth wide open and eyes vacant, clearly captivated, “….both seven inches of circumcised sin. My number’s 36941, if either or both you bad boys are ever near № 23 EXPRESS WAY on the Fourth estate….” where the roads were all named after national newspapers, “….I’d be happy to have a hump, with no questions asked. My name’s Miss Evie Sutton and I’m a….well, easy slut, as my school nickname implies….” Ohh, “….alas my slit sees very little action….apart from doing it with dildos.” She mouthed them both kisses. “Most certainly, Ma’am,” he muttered, “though it won’t be for some time, whilst I’m lying low.”

 

Then they hurried across to Madam Min’s swish saloon. For the first time, he saw it bore the personalized vehicle registration plate of MM M1N. As always, it appeared there was much money to be made from the manipulation of man meat. Quickly, he opened the trunk, and even at this time of trial and tribulation, they folded their cloaks neatly. Impeccable tidiness had been caned into them, both at home and St Sticks. They added the balaclava, before extracting the Naked Waiter wear. Then they streaked towards the waiting taxi, with Easy Slut peering out of the phone box in ardent admiration. “Hop in, guv’nors,” said Piecework, “we’d best be off pretty pronto.” They climbed into the back seats, “Ahhh,” they both gasped, and once again their raw rears reminded them of all the rattan they’d recently received. This was the thing about thrashing, its effects lingered longer. Quickly, they closed the doors, and as the taxi sped away, he took several deep breaths.

 

Several minutes later, they reached the HIGH STREET again. They passed all the shops, now closed for the night, which was as well since it meant there were few people around. After all, they were definitely Driving Dubiously Dressed all over again. “I like the look of the leopard-skin motif knicks you’re carrying, Shagger,” said Wok Peace as they started into the suburbs, “presumably they’re Leopard-skin Lucy’s….if you don’t mind me asking?” He shrugged. “Quite correct,” he replied, “and I can confirm complete with a very choice cunt scent, as you might imagine….” he paused, “….she gave them to me as a gift….but would you like them? Unless you’re not into naughty knickers over the nose?.” There was a neat nod. “Sold, Shagger,” he said, “I’ll enjoy wearing them this evening….with Mf Stern for company, since I don’t have a date to discipline.” What better way to wank worthlessly, when one hadn’t a wanton wicked wench with which to whack? “You expressed an earlier interest in naked waiter service, Wok,” he said, “so you can have my high heels and bowtie, too.” There was a wide wink as he passed them over, and the driver slipped them under his seat. “I told you discretion was my watchword, Shagger,” he said, “so in the unlikely event the local law catches up with me for this fare, I’ll do my best to lead them astray. After all, we were given a pretty good description of Panty Pervert Pete in the Letchhampton Leader last year. It doesn’t relate to reality, but who’s worried?” Very reasonable of him indeed, in the circumstances.

 

They reached the Alphabet estate, and turned into ACACIA AVENUE. Once again, the taxi driver kindly reversed into the driveway of № 8. “Thanks for everything, Wok,” he said as they emerged. “We may meet again shortly, Shagger,” he replied, “when I’m back for a bonk….after trying out your bowtie and high heels. I’m slightly surprised at myself, but maybe I’m not quite such a Dominant dolt as I’d thought?” As so often turned out to be the case. After all, it had been the same situation with Wanker Boy Will, and also his dearest Domme. As Grizelda Gutteridge, she’d been sure of leaning at least ’levendy in the direction of Domination….eleven dozen to one. After her Mental Makeover she’d tended tendy to twendy, but now nudged ninedy to thirdy.

 

They padded towards the back door, whilst waving once, and then the taxi was away. He was rather relieved of having left a key handy, since there didn’t seem to be anyone at home. His Mother would once again be laying Low IQ, and most likely his sinful Sister screwing some studs somewhere. He unlocked the door, and they both continued into the kitchen. “A close call, Davy,” said his dastardly dad, with massive understatement. He stacked the remaining pair of shoes into the cane cupboard, and hung up his bowtie. Then the phone rang and they both hurried into the hall. “Letchhampton 26901,” he said, breathlessly. “Thank goodness you’re back safely, Shagger,” said Primula Proffer, “is your dad with you as well?” He nodded automatically. “Yes,” he replied, “we’ve just arrived home. We were able to take a taxi from the Pavilion, whilst you were being interviewed by the Police. Did you have to hand over the filthy photographs, the ones with us wanking worthlessly….the scourges of two not-so saintly schoolgirls in the public park?”

 

There was a slight snigger. “No problem,” she said, “since there hadn’t been any film in the camera. I never take any actual pictures of clients without their express permission…..”  thank goodness, “….Officer Weedon was most suspicious, and was sure I was withholding evidence, so they searched us both thoroughly. I was wondering whether they’d do all our intimate areas, but they must have been worried about their own actions being caught on CCTV. They eventually let us go, and we’ve just returned in Min’s car. So all’s well which ends well,  and in time for our respective clients….” he glanced up at the clock, and saw it was 6.52pm, “….although I’ll have to give the public pond a miss next time someone’s seeking similar sin….” she paused, “….thank your dastardly dad again for the delicious dinner. We DID enjoy the naked waiter service, and you’ll have to do it again sometime….” which wouldn’t be for a while, “….goodnight Shagger, and sleep well.”

 

He might do so….when his system had settled down somewhat, “Goodnight, Primula,” he said, just as there was the usual Clickk. “Don’t you have any other lines to monitor apart from ours, Filly?” he asked, sourly. “Yes,” she replied, “the public phone box at the Pavilion being one of them, at the behest of the local law….” Oops, “….though don’t worry, I have your back in case of any future enquires.” Nice to know. “I’d prefer you having my hiney,” he replied, rudely. “Promises, Shagger,” she said, “and I’ll take you up on it at some stage….even if it isn’t on stage, so to speak….” very witty, “….which I’d really like to attend, but can’t, You’ll understand some of us have full-time jobs, and can’t go swanning off to the smoke whenever we wish. However I hope you’ll let me watch the AV Record of the proceedings….since I still haven’t fully seen the first one.” Fair enough, “It’s a definite date, Filly,” he replied, “goodnight for now.” There was a farewell Clickk, so it seemed she too was gone.

treadmill tanning tears

Chapter 242 - part (2) of (4)

Results

      Then they reached the Alphabet estate, and she turned into ACACIA AVENUE. She parked in the driveway of № 8, and leaned across to him. “Mmmm,” he moaned as she kissed him. “Thank you, Icky,” he said when they’d separated, “it’s been fun….” then he had another thought, “….would you like to attend my wedding….on the last Saturday in August? You could drive to St Sticks with The Good Doctor, and I should be able to set you up for a session in Stern Hall with the Sadistic Screw. It wouldn’t be me, since I’ll be on honeymoon….but Officer Thor Thring. He’s a firm friend of mine, and I’m sure he’d be happy to treat you very badly indeed.”

 

She smiled widely. “It all sounds superb, Shagger,” she said, “so until next month.” She mouthed him another kiss as he emerged from the car. Then he opened the trunk and collected his clothes, before padding towards the back door. It would be less conspicuous than going for the front. She gave him a wave as she reversed out of the driveway, and headed off along the street. Now he rummaged around in his pockets for the back door key, and unlocked it. He padded inside the kitchen, and set down his clothes onto the table. So what was next? Lunch could wait, since it was still before 10am.

 

Seconds later, the telephone rang. He padded into the hall, and picked it up. “Letchhampton 26901?” he said. “Hello, dearest Davy,” said a sultry Siren, “where the FUCK have you all been? I’ve worn my finger down to the first knuckle in dialling you for the past hour.” He smiled. “I’m so sorry, Bren,” he replied, “but Mum, dad and I have been at SIDE STREET….although as for Lyn, I haven’t the faintest. She’s probably screwing some studs somewhere.” There was a slight sniff. “Were you fucking Fifi again, honey?” she asked. “No,” he replied, “it was actually Icky Bicky….and whilst I remember, could you add Veronica Bickington to the invitations list. I daresay The Good Doctor’s already on it.”

 

There was a short pause. “Duly noted,” she said,  “and yes she was….since your Mother’s already asked for her inclusion. Now….have your results arrived? Mine have, and I’ve three As….the same as Miffy.  I don’t know about The Green Goddess or Uncle Sam yet, but what’s yours? And don’t say a mild and bitter.” After the allusion towards ordering alcohol in a bar. “I achieved an A and two Bs, Bren,” he replied, “so we at least will be away to northern climes in September.” There was a sudden Clickk, and he had the impression they weren’t alone on the line. “I’ll love you and leave you, Davy,” she said, “and well done. I didn’t think you had it in you….” she giggled, “….although next month you can have it in me….albeit officially for the first time.” Very fucking funny….so to speak. “Well done too, Shagger,” said another vixen’s voice, “who are the other people your fuckable fiancée was talking about?”

 

He exhaled. “If you MUST know….Phyllida,” he said to the eavesdropping telephone operator, “it’s Myfanwy Smith, who’s Bren’s half Sister, Ursula Smith who’s no relation to either of them, and Shirley Greene. Together we hope to make a ménage-à-cinq at University.” There was a slight snigger. “Nice work if you can get it,” she said, “and talking of which, there’s also been several missed calls from a Lancaster PABX in the past hour…..” a Private Automatic Branch Exchange, as used by large organizations, “….Georgie Boy should really consider buying an ansaphone….ohh….here they are again.”

 

There was another Clickk. “Hello….Annie,” he said. “How did you know it was me, Shagger?” Anne Tee demanded. “It would take too long to explain,” he replied, “but presumably you already know the good news about my results?” Probably the Universities received them before the candidates? “Yes,” she confirmed, “and I’m calling to ask you what course you’d like? Always assuming you’ve decided?” He nodded to nobody. “From what Manitoba Hardcastle told me,” he said, “I think soft science would be a much easier option than Physics, so I’ll settle for Psychology. I have my Maths, if there’s any necessary in the subject.”

 

There was a short pause. “The Hard Man’s Dean of the Department,” she agreed, “so he should know. I’ll advise him accordingly how he has an extra fresher.” He smiled. “I’m expecting to meet him again next month,” he said, “since he’ll probably be my fearful fagmaster at Summer School.” She giggled girlishly. “When?” she asked, “since Jed and I will be attending week 4 in August….playing In The Pink.” Such a shame, “I’ll only be there for week 5, Annie,” he said, “so I’ll look forward to next year.” Pending further fucks at University. “I’ll screw you soon enough in September, Shagger,” she said sagely, and then there was dialling tone.

 

With the incoming calls addressed, it was time to make some outgoing ones. First of all, he recalled the freephone number for Wodin Thring. Then he dialled it accordingly….0800 569469, and waited for ringing tone. “Stern Hall Enterprises, how may I help you?” asked the villain’s voice he knew so well, and a tingle travelled down his torso before terminating in his testicles. “Good morning, Sir,” he said, “this is Shagger speaking. I was wondering whether Thor might be able to help? I’ve a submissive slut who’d like a session with the Sadistic Screw. She’s attending my wedding, which is the last Saturday in August….and would very much appreciate being slung into the cells.”

 

There was barely concealed mirth. “For some what-for with what-ho, Shagger,” he said, “but yes, I am sure my strict son would be happy to help. If I might have her telephone number, I will confirm times.” Easily achieved. “It’s Letchhampton 23691, Sir,” he said, “and I hope you’ll be attending the ceremony too?” There was a slight snigger. “Your fiancée has kindly invited us both,” he replied, “and we are looking forward to it immensely. Although not necessarily to the Wedlock and KTB, which are apparently requirements for all mere males. Still, they should certainly stop the studs from hitting on the Bridesmaids….being Burdizzo Babes. Goodbye for now.” Which was the whole idea. “Thank you so much, Sir,” he confirmed, “until next month.” Then the line went dead, and he had dialling tone again for his next call.

 

Now it was 01 for London, followed by PAD GIRL, using the alphanumeric letters. It was as in Paddington, but with a tilt towards titillation….since this WAS a No Tell hotel. “Good morning,” said another known voice, “The Regal Rooms….and reservations.” It was the owner, an august alumna of St Sticks. “Hello, Irma,” he replied, “this is Shagger, from St Sticks. I’d like to book a double room for this Friday, please.” There was a slight squeal, “Ooh….Shagger,” she said, “this is so sudden. Are you sure your Missus won’t mind you screwing me again?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t guarantee my gonads,” he said, to a slight sniff. “Fair comment, Shagger,” she said, “I suppose you’ve some sinful sluts lined up? Some sowing of wild oats day before the wedding next month….?” how the hell had she known? “….Georgie Boy’s promised me an invitation….” Ohh, “….although since yours is another open-marriage, it won’t make much difference….I hope. After all, I’m still screwing HIM on occasion.”

 

He’d suspected she was yet another of his many Mistresses. “One William Shanks will be with me, Irma,” he said, “although I don’t yet know which, if either of us, will use the room. Actually, I’m hoping to ask Soixante whether she’d like some suitable sex slave service? She wasn’t terribly taken with Will when they last met at a Reformatory, however he’s now a reformed character.”

 

There was a short pause. “I’ll mention the matter to 60dB, Shagger,” she said, “since she’s become very enthusiastic about St Sticks’ scholars….after both you and Relay showed her how she didn’t necessarily need to pay for provision of penis. I did once think about offering her Georgie Boy, but decided no.  It would merely mean my slit would score even less with his seven inches of circumcised sin.  But actually I was winding you up ever-so slightly, since your reservation’s already made….” ohh, “….Cutie called a few days ago….” Queenie Tee, the noble knight’s executive Secretary….and also Ante’s Sister, “….and on Sir Digby Vaillance’s instructions, I’ve booked you a premium price de Sade Salon….” so nothing but the best, “….which includes Company….” Happy Hookers, “….do you want me to arrange anything?”

 

He pursed his lips. “Could you book Clandestine Cabs for half past six?” he asked, “on the company tab. But as regards erotic entertainment, I’ve decided to give Scary Sari a go. She saw Panty Pervert Pete’s performance at ON-STAGE STOOGE. I’ll call her myself, so goodbye….at least until Friday.” There was the sound of a smack. “She can claim her cash from reception on arrival,” she said, “….goodbye, and give yourself a couple of these from me, you appallingly bad boy.” SMACKK “….Oww….” SMACKK “….Oww,” he said as he hit his own hiney hard. He’d never been much into self-spanking….but hadn’t needed to be. His Mother had always provided as much posterior punishment as he could….well, shake a seat at.

 

“I can sense the sound of smacks on skin,” said Pillar the Filler, with some insight, “I bet you’re standing starkers, Shagger,” He considered carefully how he’d had four different telephone conversations over the past few minutes….and none of them had known he was naked. “I’m guilty as charged, m’Lady,” he admitted, “one day they’ll invent videophones, and then my ruses will be rumbled.” There was another snigger. “The present system does allow exposure of errant erections without risk,” she said, “although I’d venture to suggest Panty Pervert Pete’s peccadilloes are way beyond private….” quite correct, “….I’d ask for an invitation to the wedding too, but I shall be on holiday in Greece….hopefully screwing some studs.” So sea, sand sun and sex?

 

“Taking of holidays, Filly,” he said, “I have to arrange mine. So my next call is to Cornwall, and a chat to my dearest Aunt Marge….” he dialled the 0800 number, “….it’s another of those witty alphanumerics….A-K-T-B-4-U.” She sniggered. “I get it,” she said, “a Kali’s Teeth Bracelet for you….yes MA’AM.” The line rang several times. “Cell House Holidays, good morning,” said Margaret Whapshott, in a withering voice. He shivered slightly, since although properly polite, it still exuded an air of menace. State your business, it said….or stop wasting my valuable time.

 

“Hello, Aunty,” he said, “this is David speaking. I wonder whether I might book myself in for a spell at the Reformatory?” There was a short snigger. “When did you have in mind?” she asked. “I thought I’d arrive late Saturday evening,” he explained, “I’ll have been in town the previous day, and there are through services from LondoN PaddingtoN….” he paused, “….obviously my departure’s entirely at the gift of the Guards. Hopefully though they’ll let me out in time for my week at Summer School, following which it’s my wedding.”

 

There was a short pause. “The latter being the last Saturday in August, David,” she said sternly, “since I’ve every intention of attending, too. I’m really rather looking forward to seeing you dragged down the aisle by your new open-Wife, whilst being whipped by the Bridesmaids. But yes, we’ve a Reformatory place available. The facility’s open for all guests this year, for the periods of operation. I won’t tell you which Guards will be on duty, since it’ll be fun finding out….the hard way. Try and tell me what train you’re on, so someone can meet you at Pennance Road. This time though, I won’t make you walk.”

 

He ought to be thankful for small mercies, since it was a LONG way….as indeed he’d discovered two years previously. “Thank you, Aunty,” he replied, “I expect to be a reformed character by the time you and the other Guards have finished with me.” There was a second snigger. “Fat chance,” she replied, “you’re a no-hoper, and always have been. Although I have to admit I was impressed by your A-Level grades….” how the HELL had she known? “….as Chair of Governors, I have everyone’s results….” Ohh, “….and it’ll be one lash for the Vulgarity…..” as always, her apparent mind reading abilities were working well, “….you should expect to spend your first night in The Doghouse. I gather you’ve taken to travelling in luxury, so this stint should serve to take you down a few pegs. We’ve some new items for our guests this year, in addition to the Hardnut Quarry, one of which is Bikes Spikes. Cycling will never be the same, and I’m sure you won’t enjoy it….” so was he….whatever they were? “….goodbye until Saturday, David.”

 

She rang off without waiting for an answer, and there was the inevitable Clickk. “If this is the sales office,” opined the telephone operator, “whatever is it like in the complaints department?” Easy-peasy. “No guest ever complains at Hell House Holidays, Filly,” he said darkly, “because they’d be whipped well….or rather much more, since scourging’s standard anyway. I’ve more calls to make, and the next is to 01 – PAD BOOK. Perhaps you’d care to dial the number for me?” If so, it would probably be a free call, since he might as well have something out of all this?

 

Seconds later, there was ringing tone. “Foibles Books and Magazines, good morning?” asked yet another known vixen’s voice. “Hello….Theresa,” he said, “this is Shagger speaking. I called into the shop one evening a few weeks ago, and we had an interesting chat about The Fall Guy….” he was interrupted, “….and The Swiss Service,” she agreed amiably, clearly remembering what they’d discussed about her Marketing Director and his Departmental Manageress, Bernadette Svisse. But Falstaff Geiger too had a vitriolic vanilla Wife, and dealt with the difficulty with a little….well, Swiss service on the side.

 

“You asked me to let you know when and if I’d be at On-Stage Stooge again, Ma’am,” he explained, “and the answer is this Friday evening. I expect it to be about six o’clock, with a firm friend. Wanker Boy Will, plus Panty Pervert Pete hope to perform posterior punishments on each other, for the lovely Ladies’ pleasure….if you were able to attend?” There was a slight sniff. “Try to keep me away, Shagger,” she said, “I suppose you’ll be staying at The Regal Rooms, so don’t bother to book any Company for afters….” it seemed he’d definitely be in residence. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, “and no, I won’t.” There was another Clickk, so it seemed Phyllida Pillar had his number in more ways than one? “….see you soon, Shagger….” the usual euphemism, “….although I won’t be able to linger longer, since I’m on lock-up duty at the shop.” He recalled how they stayed open until 11pm. “Screw you soon, Ma’am,” he agreed, “and enjoy the show.”

 

There was loud CLICKK. “So who was she?” asked the Intercept Operator. “The Manageress, Ms Taser,” he replied. “Possibly the cheapest chat-up call I’ve ever heard,” she said, “effortlessly enticing a beautiful Bird into bed. You really didn’t have to try very hard for her amorous affections.” Certainly things were far different now, since he’d become a Cunt Casanova. “If you want to do me another favour, Filly,” he said, “you can call Central Despatch, and book a priority prepaid taxi from here at a quarter to five. Please be very sure to ask them to allocate Wok Peace to the fare.” She giggled girlishly. “More mischief, Shagger?” she asked. “It’s merely a romantic candle-lit dinner for two lovely Ladies,” he replied. “I still suspect skulduggery, Shagger,” she said, “but leave it with me.”

 

So another job done. “I should still source a second screw,” he mused, “and you may remember the entry from Scary Sari on the same Comment Card as Theresa The Teaser.” There was another giggle. “Living dangerously again, Shagger,” she said, “what was her number?” He pursed his lips. “It’s another freephone, Filly,” he said, “0800 168269.”

 

There was a short pause. “This is a recorded message,” said a strict-sounding Siren, “if you’re a beginner, don’t bother me. Scary Sari offers six hour sessions of Snuff Stuff for premium punters who can pay the price. I offer….well, capital punishments for sluts and studs in predicament bondage….” what wit, “….complete with balls beating, tits tweaking, cunnie punnie, plus plenty of posterior pain. It’s outcalls only at your hotel. Stay on the line if you’re still interested.” His penis promptly pulsed, whilst he waited. “Oo..er….yes, MA’AM,” muttered Phyllida Pillar. “Hello?” asked the same vixen’s voice, most likely live.

 

“Good morning, Ma’am,” he said politely, “you very kindly left an entry on a Comment Card, following Panty Pervert Pete’s performance at ON-STAGE STOOGE.” There was a sudden snigger. “Yes indeed,” she replied, “very choice it was, too. Are you up for it in London again….Peter?” He smiled. “I shall be putting in another appearance at six o’clock on Friday evening,” he said, “and wondered whether you’d be available for a session on Saturday morning?” He waited. “Yes,” she said, “from six am….until noon.  Can you cope with such an early start?” No problem. “Certainly, Ma’am,” he replied, “since at school, Rise And Shine was always at this early hour.”

 

Old habits die hard. “Are you experienced in Snuff Stuff?” she asked. “Yes, Ma’am,” he confirmed, “not massively, but I have had some….and lived to tell the tale.” Hopefully, this should suffice? “Where are you staying, Peter?” she asked. “It’s The Regal Rooms in Paddington, Ma’am,” he replied, “and I’m booked into a premium price de Sade Salon, which includes the cost of Company.” There was a slight snigger. “Who’s footing the bill for all your filthy fantasies?” she asked. “It’s Vaillance Holdings PLC, Ma’am,” he replied, “and under the name of Purvis.” There was a slight sniff, “Expense account corporate hospitality,” she said, “nice work if you can get it. I’m already booked with a beautiful Bi-Babe for Friday evening. She’s a seriously subbie slut, so we’ll start her six hour session by sampling your sordid showing.  But I’ll screw you Saturday….so goodbye until then.” She rang off.

 

“Genuine Jam Tomorrow, so to speak, Shagger,” agreed Phyllida Pillar. “Thank you, Filly,” he said, “it’s been nice chatting to you, as always.” There was another snigger. “I was rather hoping for some sex-pest calls,” she said, “to brighten my day.” Always happy to help. “UH..HUHH,” he moaned, an octave below normal, “UH..HUHH….Ah wanna fuck yer fancy, Filly,” it was somewhere between a weird east-end of London accent, plus PC Plod having a bad hair, “….UH..HUHH….screw yer slit….UH..HUHH….Ah wanna wank wiv yer cute cunt.” She sniggered softly. “Thank you so much, Shagger,” she said, “Enjoy your sinful sojourn in Soho….and all your other dalliances with deviant damsels and Dames.” There was another Clickk, and she too was gone. He glanced up at the clock, and saw it was 9.49am, so all the calls had taken longer than he’d thought? Perhaps he’d put in an hour of hoovering? It would, as Sexy Sammy had always said, serve to keep him humble. Then he’d prepare lunch.

 

* * * * * *

The time was 3.42pm, and the Monthly Mothers Meeting in the lounge was in full swing. Lynda had let in all the lovely Ladies, so he wasn’t aware of all the attendees. He’d spent much of the afternoon helping to prepare not one, but two different evening meals. It was the romantic dinner, to be transported in aluminium catering cartons, but also his Mother’s and Sister’s. He’d done dumplings….six small suet puddings to put into the stew. He’d since discovered the dastardly details of his parents’ dalliances from his dad. It seemed they’d visited St Judes School, which was now also out of term time. There they’d met up with his former Headmaster, by prior appointment.

 

It had been a Detention, and during the hour they’d each suffered several sound swishings. However, his Mother would be reporting to Dr Ivan Quorn again this evening for further fucking fun and frolics. Lynda hadn’t said where she’d been, but most likely it was the Letchhampton Rugby Football Club again. There was never any shortage of studs at the RFC….and Superior Sirs, to administer all HER Canings For Cunt onto their colleagues. But this afternoon she’d been in her element, standing starkers in the centre of the lounge. She’d been answering any amount of intrusive Questions regarding her Academic and Discipline Reports, as recovered from Icky Bicky. He’d seen photocopies of each himself, and they made grim reading. The latter had been one of the longest he’d ever seen, with eulogies from over four dozen prefects….including his own efforts.

 

He was currently standing alone outside the lounge door. He was similarly starkers, apart from a set of smooth steel bondage hardware. It comprised a slave collar, waistband, ankle irons, and balls band. His Mother had kindly handcuffed him before the session had started. Lynda had eventually emerged, with a painful posterior plus an ecstatic expression. ‘Next time, Davy and dad,’ she’d said dreamily, ‘I want some of this beautiful bondage, too.’ She’d also claimed to be going upstairs for a short shower, however this was clearly an excuse for Wasting Water. Obviously she was on a sexual high, and wanted to ply her pussy, preferably with the strongest jet. Then his father had gone inside, similarly in sex slave status. There’d been some sort of storytelling, followed by sounds of sin.

 

Finally the lounge door opened again, and his Mother motioned him forward. He padded inside to find his father kneeling naked in the Position For Pleasuring, offering oral appreciation to Flirty Girty from № 30. Alas, this was a type of twat treat he was unlikely to enjoy. She was a divine-looking creature, in the short skirt and high heels favoured by all the members. However, he was well aware how she preferred more mature mere males.

 

“George has told everyone of our entertaining exploits this morning at SIDE STREET, David,” she said, “but during the discourse, I caught him Leching Longingly Like A Loser….” which wasn’t hard, “….Girty’s had Humping Harlots with head, Stroking Sluts with scalp and Nuzzling Nubiles with nose. So now it’s Tickling Tarts with tongue….with simultaneous strafing of shoulders whilst he meets my martinet.” Thwackk “….AHHH,” he gasped from the seven strands of sheer suffering.

 

“Stand centrally, David,” she said, “be sure to turn round slowly, so we can all see your seat and shaft.” Which would also mean an ever-changing appreciative audience, the height of humiliation, exactly as he’d asked at Fifi’s. He’d be Staring At Skirts all the time, which must mean being whacked well. Needless to say, Staring At Seats and Shafts were freebies for floozies “Yes, Mum,” he said, “you asked me to tell everyone the events of yesterday evening at the Lido. Since it was a Sunday, the buses into town would be fairly empty. I was attired in my previous pink uniform from St Sticks, including my hated school cap. As always, it made me feel about fourteen. Although there was no shortage of seats, I stood all the way, for reasons which will become clear.” Finally his philandering father finished Flirty Girty, and began work with Katy.

 

 

“It’ll be a cheap shopping sojourn today, son,” said the driver, as he moved towards the door to disembark, “although it certainly seems as if someone’s been a bad boy.” He smiled sweetly. “Yes, Sir,” he muttered as the bus stopped, and he stepped off. Then he continued along the otherwise empty HIGH STREET, walking with the classic canees’ gait of guilt. Look At Me, his body was saying, I’ve Just Been Caned. The town clock was just striking for 6pm when he reached SIDE STREET, feeling quite apprehensive. “Hello….big boy….” said a floozy from a parked car, after rolling down the window, “….going my way?”

 

Wasn’t this a bit back to front? “Ullo….gorgeous,” he replied in kind, “are you interested in some business?” She mouthed him a kiss. “Step inside, handsome,” she said, “and I’ll….well, show you a few things.” Promises. “This isn’t your house,” he protested. “No,” she agreed, “but none of us have garages, so it’s pot luck to park. Where we’ll be when we return is anyone’s guess.” He duly did so, and then they were away. Now he could see her more clearly, she was wearing a brown Lee van Cleef cloak, beehive brunette wig and matching mask. Most likely it was only a tightly-fitting striped stretch top underneath. “Where are we headed?” he asked.

 

“The public pond,” she replied. “This isn’t a good idea,” he protested, “since I happen to know the whole area’s completely covered by CCTV.” She shook her head. “Nonsense,” she said, as they turned back onto the HIGH STREET, “since I did this last Sunday evening with….well, another sinful schoolboy, and there were no problems. I first met him at your Adult Detention Class over the half term holiday. He’s somewhat shy, and not very good with girls. He confessed to dealing with his carnal cravings by humping Happy Hookers….although apparently alas his favourite fucker has gone into semi-retirement, and is only available during school holidays….” he had an inkling of her identity, “….he has a hankering for role-playing Panty Pervert Pete, though he claims to be far too shy. So Flasher Frederique was able to give him a demonstration of deviance.”

 

They pulled into LETTSBY AVENUE, passing the Police station. Then it was on to the public park, and a few seconds later she stopped at the Pavilion. “I suppose we’re speaking of The Sphinx?” he suggested, “always assuming it was a bit of banking bonking afterwards?” She winked once. “Yes,” she admitted.   

 

“What’s his name, Shagger?” asked Muriel Quince, “seems he seems to be my kind of critter. You know how much I enjoy showing such shy types the ropes.” He did indeed. “It’s Stephen Hinks, Ma’am,” he replied, “although I don’t know his phone number. However he works as a teller at the NATIONAL PROVINCIAL BANK on the HIGH STREET, so you can find him easily enough.” She nodded, as did several other members. Most likely he’d find his social life improving drastically, although they’d be so-called respectable married Ladies. It would also mean less custom for Leopard-skin Lucy, but this didn’t much matter. After all, she had her salary from St Sticks with which to pay the bills. Katy cummed convincingly, and next it was Janet.

 

“You’ll find a camera in the glove compartment,” she said, “for some feelthy photos. It’s an instamatic, so simply point and shoot….the same as your shaft in my slit, later….” very droll, “….you go first, and simply select an empty bench. It’s quite late, so most people ought to be headed home for dinner.” He collected the camera, still not convinced, but did as bid. She was quite correct, and there was nobody about by the pond, so he sat down. “Ohh,” he gasped, as his raw rear reminded him of the severe Sex Thrashings he’d suffered earlier.

 

“Anyone we know, Shagger?” asked Jeanette Diamond. “It was Audrey Amesbury and Dorothy Onibury from № 76 CHRYSANTHMUM CRESCENT, Ma’am….” he replied, whilst watching his father start work with Gillian Rogers, “….but being a Bi-some threesome, it meant twice the punishment for pussy. They’ve a Mean Machine, which works well….as On The Dot and The AA are substantial subbies, who won’t wield the weapon. Although their combined currencies are only six strokes, they managed to mis-set the machine to six minutes. Alas it’s easily done, and I’ve made the same mistake in the past. So I suffered some seventeen serious stingers….and all in a spunked out state, when the whacks were worst. Now you know why I stood on the bus.” Slowly, he turned….for further floozies.

 

He stared at the ducks, and several minutes later, a brown booted figure approached his bench. “Flasher Frederique fucks fellas,” she said, throwing open her cloak. As he’d suspected, she was wearing the Keysell costume. “Uhhh….Ma’am,” he moaned, as his Knackerpants hit him hard. The slightest sexual stimulus was sufficient to set him straining.

 

“I hadn’t realized Pat had so much competition….” said fuckable Fleur Phelps. Her pretty face rather reminded him of the presenter….but they WERE second cousins, twice removed, “….I still wonder whether she was aware of being a sex object for many millions of mere males?”

 

“Slip your shorts down and stroke shaft,” she said softly. Hopefully the cameras wouldn’t pick up this perversion? “Uhhh….Ma’am,” he moaned, “I want to poke your pussy….uhhh….Pat    I’m a worthless wanker….uhhh.” Abruptly, she shut her cloak. “Sort yourself out, Shagger,” she said, “and meet me back at the car.” Quickly, she padded away. “Ahhh….” he gasped, shimmying up his Knackerpants, and the hem scraped across an aching arse, “….uhhh,” he added as the coarse velcro material interfered with his erection.

 

“I waited a while as ordered,” he explained, as his father shifted to µQ, “and then strode back to the Pavilion, where she was waiting. We returned to SIDE STREET, and enjoyed a night of naughty nooky. It continued this morning, as I believe my father’s already outlined.” There was a round of applause. “Thank you, David,” said his Mother, “I think everyone’s agreed he’s been successively Staring At Skirts, so deserves derrière discipline. With one member a whack, it’ll be a nasty nine….plus three for the Thrill Of A Thrashing, as I understand it can now be known….” by kind courtesy of St Bodlians School, from whom he’d borrowed the phrase only a couple of weeks previously, “….bend over, nice and tight. Rotate a right angle after the first three, so everyone can witness your whacks….and then they’ll stroke your stripes.” He did so, whilst his father finished µQ, and began on The Iced Diamond.

 

Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk

“Yeee..HEEE..EEEE….THREE, thank you, MA’AM,” he yelped, “ohh….ohh….ohh,” he added as his hit hiney was handled, before turning 90°.        

 

Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk

“Yeoww..WOWW..OWWW….SIX, thank you, MA’AM,” he gasped. “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned as his flogged fanny was fondled fetchingly by further floozies, before turning a second time.

 

Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk

“Yikes..YIKES..YIKES….NINE, thank you, MA’AM….ohh….ohh,” he moaned, turning again.

 

Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk    Swishhhhthwackkkkk

“….Yeouch..OUCH..OUCH, thank you, MA’AM,” he gasped, “I know I needed them, for the sin of Staring At Skirts….ohh….ohh….ohh….and a straining shaft.” There was mild mirth. “We should give David a round of applause for his A-Level results,” she said, and he gave a brief bow, being still in the Position. “You may stand, David,” she said, “should anyone wish to meet up with him on a….well, one-to-one basis, do let me before you go home, since he has only limited availability. In addition to spending some time at the Pennance Reformatory, there’s Summer School when he can revisit the rattan. Then it’s his wedding at the end of august, and honeymoon….all to be fitted in before he starts at the University of Lancashire in September….” he smiled sweetly, hoping for a second session with fuckable Fleur Phelps….whose pussy was now being pleased, “….you’ll have to excuse him for now, since he and George have an erotic engagement this evening. Let me undo your handcuffs, David….since George has said he hasn’t done the dessert. He can continue with your cunts, so whilst he’s working hard, I’ll explain to everyone about naked waiter service.”

 

She released his wrists. “Thank you, Mesdames,” he said, “I look forward to servicing some of you soon….” SLAPP “….ahhh….so sorry.” Stiffly, he padded along the hall into the kitchen. He’d have to peel and prepare the pears, for them to be poached in hot syrup. Should he first of all remove the remaining bondage hardware? No….since the thought of whip-wielding Reformatory Guards watching him work was endearingly erotic.