Sunday Spanklet - Preparations

Tony  Grantlace had been elected to serve on the City Council as an Independent. He would take his seat at a Council meeting in less than two weeks and there were a number of things he needed to arrange in preparation for that day.

He had opened a new account at a different bank so his financial history would be clean and he had placed his two rented properties into a blind trust so his rental income would not be questioned. He had cleaned out the house where he lived and bought a new computer. The old pc was opened up and the hard disk destroyed with blows from a hammer. The sex toys and videos which he had collected over the years had all been taken to the dump, which was a pity, as they were all quite expensive when new.

Tony was nothing if not a careful planner. He had conjectured that if he had an accident or was taken ill then, inevitably, a friend or colleague from his political party or from the council might enter his house on some helpful mission and discover his passions, which might then make public life very difficult.

Now that his journey into politics was finally started, and it was one which he hoped  would lead eventually to Parliament, he did not wish some extraneous noise about sex and a perceived kinky deviation to come out in the press. From now on he had to be squeaky clean.

At his age, now 32, it was still just about OK to be a bachelor, but in a few years time this would be questioned as lacking commitment. He had noted in his mental agenda to start looking for a girlfriend in a serious fashion.

So, now that the planning and cleaning up of his affairs was nearly complete, all that was left to do, before he took on the persona of  a Mr White, was to pay one last visit to the person, who in the recent past, had satisfied his Mr Black needs.

If this was to be his last participation in the spanking scene, at least for the foreseeable future, he wanted it to be a very satisfying experience and a long lasting one in his memory. He sent an e mail to book the appointment at The Study, received the confirmation and then closed this e mail account which had only been used for ordering goods on the net and for contacting the specialist service providers and spanking video sites.

The Study was a favourite of his. The domain of a consummate professional in the arts of  discipline.  It was a 100 mile road trip so he usually stayed over at a B&B to savour the pleasure of his visit. When he arrived on time at the Edwardian villa house, in the Hertfordshire town of Smallsbury and rang the bell, the door was opened by Madeline wearing a subdued outfit of black skirt, grey sweater and high heeled shoes.

Tony placed his monetary tribute in an envelope on the silver platter in the hallway on top of the dresser unit. He followed Madeline to bathroom and proceeded to get ready. He was already wearing the long grey trousers, blue blazer, crisp white shirt and regulation necktie, which might be considered as smart weekend attire for an adult, but also presented him nicely in the schoolboy role he would soon be adopting. He removed his trousers and pants and washed himself thoroughly using water and wipes. Then he took the new packet of ladies tights from the carrier bag and placed his own pants back inside the bag. Sitting on the lavatory he pulled on the nylon tights and stood to adjust them. His legs and genital area were shaved of hair as required by the patron of the house. Adjusting the waistband of the nylons he luxuriated in the warmth and tightness of the fabric around his bottom. He pulled on his clothes again, checked that his shoes were shiny and made his way back down the hallway.

In response to his knock on the study door Madeline called out to enter. For this afternoon she was to be the School Secretary, Miss Watfield, and she adapted to the role admirably.

“Ah, Grantlace – here again I see.”

“Yes Miss.”

Tony stood in the centre of the large front room on a rug of Indian or Persian origin. The large desk was placed across the front of the bay window and the rest of the furniture consisted of a dark brown leather armchair and a long bookcase against one wall. Fixed to one of the walls was a large wooden cupboard.

Madeline spoke again in clipped tones, so that each word penetrated his brain like a dagger.

“We have the note from your class teacher. You have been persistently cheeky I understand and have answered her back during two lessons. This is not the first time you have been sent here by Mrs Marshall is it?”

“No Miss.”

“I understand that your parents are moving house and you will be leaving school at the end of the term. So we had better try and instill some manners in you before you depart had we not.”

“I suppose so Miss.”

“You had better buck your ideas up young man. Supposing is not good enough.”

Tony stood there. The icy fear of what was about to happen enveloped him. Not for the first time in this room he wondered whether he should try and escape the consequences of his visit.

“Remove your blazer, shoes and socks.”

He started the disrobing process, folding each item carefully onto the arm of the leather chair, placing his shoes nearby on the floor. Eventually he stood in just the shirt and tie and the tights.

“Go to the desk.”

Tony moved across the room to stand about eighteen inches from the edge of the large desk.

Madeline came up behind him and unfastened the belt buckle of his school trousers. As she pulled them slowly down her fingers passed leisurely over the erection which was trapped in the tights.

“You boys do seem to get excited about punishment don’t you?” she whispered in one ear. “I am sure it will disappear soon enough.”

She pushed his back and he bent in position, knees locked, legs straight and his elbows on the top of the desk with the palm of his hands flat on the leather top. Madeline took a look around the room and then pressed a small button the wall to indicate that all was ready.

Tony knew that they would both have to wait. He stared at the window and thought about the other times he had been in this position waiting to be thrashed. Not for the first time he wondered what on earth he was doing. As the minutes ticked by he remembered the two occasions when he had paid extra fees to watch Madeline receinving the cane. The scenario had been that they were Seniors at  school, older  pupils caught in flagrante, kissing, drinking and smoking.  As he thought about her blue knickers being slowly pulled down when she was bent over this same desk, her pale bare bottom being gradually exposed, his erection stiffened. This was indeed the stuff of memories.

His day dreaming stopped when he heard the click of the door, opening and then closing. Then there was the noise of the cupboard latch and the rattle of the cane as it was lifted from its hook. He could identify each cane in The Study by the swishing sound it made in the air. As the selected cane was swung once, twice, three times through the air he knew this was the thin, senior dragon cane. It hardly made any noise as it disturbed only a small amount of air when  it curved and then straightened out in the vertical swipe.

“We have a rather naughty boy here,” the secretary spoke. “He is due 24 strokes.”

As Tony lifted his head and straightened his back he caught sight of the tall figure behind him, a reflection in the glass of the window. He tensed his cheeks as the point of the cane tap-tapped against his bottom. This was it, he thought, no going back now. 


He rose up on his toes presenting his nylon wrapped cheeks in a tightly stretched curve.

“Very well. Thirty second intervals I think. Be so good as to count the strokes Miss Watfield.”

Tony had very little time to understand what the The Headmaster had just said, before the first searing stroke landed perfectly central across the crown of his bottom and the pain exploded in his mind.