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
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.
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.
