Submission ~ Joe Tan

copyright ©www.GovernessX.com ~ material not to be reproduced without written permission

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Joe-Jo Filled With New Sensations ~ a story of a developing boy    *updated 2/6/07*

Joe's Island Adventures ~ a novel in progress recording the humiliations & punishments of a boy named Joe

Emma ~ a story of a wet & punishing reunion of Uncle Joe with the girl who has come of age & dominance

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Joe-Jo Filled With New Sensations

Preface

I haven't worn nappies much before although Auntie has made me put them on sometimes when we are travelling. There was also that time she made me take a banana plug and then kept me standing in the corner until there was banana, poo, pee and cry-baby tears all over the place! Once I was cleaned up and she had warmed up my bottom with her slipper she put me into nappies and then did so quite a lot for a while.

But now she has found out about these new Depend from Boots and sent me out to buy some yesterday (as well as plastic panties). I think she forgot them last night but this morning she certainly remembered. I had just received an instruction from our lovely Governess that I should be plugged whenever I am visiting the website and Auntie has decided that I should be wearing my new Depend nappy-panties as well. 'And then you can keep them on for the rest of the day,' she added.

She had recently spotted some quite economical tampons from Asda - 'They have blue strings so they are really most suitable for little boys,' she had observed. (She seems so tickled by the blue string that I'm in constant fear she will want to share the joke with one of her lady friends - it would not be the first time as readers of my Island Adventures may recall).

So now I am sitting here with a pretty blue string emerging from my botty and my first Depend pull-up under my nightshirt (Auntie has decided old-fashioned nightshirts are best for me - 'keeps that bottom more readily accessible for my strap,' she maintains). She has gone to bed but told me to sleep like this after I have told you all about it. Somehow I have a feeling that she will want to take me out for trips like this and make sure I have to test the whole ensemble by not allowing me to be excused. I have a premonition I may be joining some of my baby friends and finding out what it is like to be wearing a wet nappy in public!

******

Oh dear! I think it's started. Auntie woke me up this morning and made me get out of bed, bend over and raise my nightgown so she could check I was still wearing my new depend nappy.

Of course I was, but I had sneaked out to the bathroom earlier so it was still dry and clean - she must have realised...She pulled it down and saw that there was no little blue string from my tampon plug. Well, she just picked up the hairbrush and gave me six strokes on the spot (or rather. on my poor botty!).

Then she put a big dollop of petroleum jelly on my botty hole and on one of the new tampons and in it went...

Finally she pushed it high up into me before pulling up the nappy.

Later she sent me on a series of errands down to the village. Of course I have walked around on the island plugged and nappied but this was the first time in England - into the Coop and lining up, wondering if the people around were noticing the bulges in my trousers! But I managed to get back without any accidents and I don't think anyone noticed.

I'm still plugged and wearing the nappy - it's only a matter of time before it gets wet - I dare not go to the bathroom without her permission. Funnily enough I'm sort of getting used to having it on and wondering how it will feel when it's wet...Whoops! Oh, I think that was a little leak...

******

Oh help! Now I’m in big trouble! Auntie popped into my room last night to bring me some milk before she went to bed and saw that I was watching GX deliver one of her classic over the knee spankings.

‘Wish it were you sweetie?’ she asked, laying her hand on my shoulder.

‘Oh no, Auntie’ I said quickly, fearing she might be inspired to give me more than warm milk to go to bed with. ‘Just reminding myself to be good.’

She watched and listened for a moment, then patted me on the bottom as she turned to leave. That was my undoing. ‘Joe,’ she said, her voice acquiring a sharp edge. ‘Do you have your nappy on? You know perfectly well you have to be nappied when you visit GovernessX!’

I shook my head sheepishly. ‘But Auntie, I just popped in for a minute. I was just about to put on my nappy. Please…’ My voice faded as I saw my excuses were making matters worse.

‘Stand up!’ she ordered. ‘Go and stand at the foot of the bed and bend over with your hands on the bed.’

I did as I was told, sure I was going to get an immediate spanking. She moved behind me, pressing against me as she reached to undo my pyjamas cord. As she stepped back the pyjama trousers fell to the floor, revealing my disobedience and naked white bottom cheeks. I tensed in anticipation but the hand did not fall. Instead there was a pause and then I felt both hands on my nether cheeks.

‘Legs apart – bend lower and arch your back,’ she said quietly. I knew well the position she wanted me to assume: I was well rehearsed. I pushed my vulnerable bottom in the air and felt the cheeks, parted by my stance, being separated further by her long thumbs.

‘Not only are you ignoring my explicit instructions, a private matter, but you are also flouting the directions given you quite recently by your Governess. You know perfectly well that you are to be plugged at all times when visiting her. I can hardly keep that a private matter.’ She paused.

‘Please, no, Auntie.. .’ I whispered, ‘please don’t make me, please.’ I could anticipate her next words.

‘You are to report your naughtiness in the Nursery Digest. I expect all your little friends will be shocked. I shall punish you at the weekend so you will have time to reflect on your behaviour while I think about a suitable punishment. Perhaps your little friends will have some ideas…’

‘But Auntie, please Auntie, GovernessX might read it and expel me!’

‘You should have thought about that before. She may very well notice it. If you are exceptionally lucky she might just direct a lesser penalty and demand proof that you have been adequately dealt with. Now stay there. I am going to fetch the large plug and a clean nappy so that you can sit down and write your confession immediately. I shall inspect it in the morning and then you can post it for all to see.’

And now Auntie has read it, corrected it and I have to post it…

******

Earlier in the week Auntie caught me visiting GovernessX’s website without being plugged and nappied and made me report it to you all. She said I am to be punished this weekend for being so disobedient to both her and GX but I don’t know how or when exactly. I just have a feeling it has started already. First there was the humiliation of having to tell you all and risk GX noticing. Now she wants to know if there is any response from what she calls my ‘little friends’.

This morning I had to take Auntie to town shopping and she took me into Boots. She wants to make sure I have a good supply of Depend nappies and some new plastic pants. But she would not let me just go and pick them up from the shelf. ‘Go over to that nice assistant and ask her for help. And make sure you get the right size plastic pants. Tell her they are to fit you and that the last pair was a bit tight over the Depends.’ She pointed out a pretty woman of about 24 standing close to the aisle where those sorts of things are.

‘But Auntie,’ I started to protest.

‘No buts my boy. You’ll just make me cross. If you’d done what you were told to begin with I might have spared you the embarrassment. But you have a lesson to learn. Obedience, Joe. Now. And don’t mumble. If I can’t hear you properly I’ll take you to the chemist shop in the village and make you ask.’

At that my resistance crumbled. At least there was a shred of anonymity in town. I approached and asked the assistant who seemed really nice and, seeing my blush, quietly invited me to follow her. She did her best to save my face by just nodding towards the nappies with a little smile. But as I started asking for the plastic pants I caught sight of Auntie looking at me crossly and holding her hand to her ear. I raised my voice a bit, stuttering and going bright red. The assistant looked down at my trousers to check my size – I’m sure she realised I was nappied. Three women in their late twenties standing nearby stopped talking and looked across at me, obviously unable to stop themselves from grinning and looking at each other knowingly.

Now we are back home after that awful morning. Auntie made me put on an extra nappy and shorts, then serve her tea and keep her company while she watched the tennis on TV. She is not going to let me use the loo. I have been told to exercise control. Wish I hadn’t had two cups. Now the rugby is starting and she has sent me here to tell you about this morning and check if there are any suggestions as to how she should deal with me…

I think it could be a long, wet and ultimately sore weekend…

******

As I feared, little escapes the attention of our adored but strict Governess. And, sure enough Auntie read her comments:

“Plugged, nappied and publicly humiliated - whatever next for little joe? I do hope that it involves a soapy enema and a caning... I flushed out Baby Timmy Trumpton twice in an afternoon at the nursery this week and all in all he filled 6 disposable nappies and at each nappying he was layered in 2 disposable nappies, a terry nappy, a pair of cotton directoires, a pair of satin directoires and a pair of rubber bloomers. It was a very padded bottom and a very sore bottom from the flushing and, of course, from the spanking and the caning that he got when he made a fuss at the size of the enema. A thoroughly drained and pacified Baby Timmy Trumpton then had his mouth dummied and his now empty bottom plugged and nappied and he was put down in the cot to rest after his nursery 'spa' treatment.”

“Perhaps Auntie has a pair of silky directoires in her underwear drawer that little joe could wear over his nappy to peek out from beneath his short trousers when he is sent to collect further nappy supplies from the lovely lady assistants at the chemist. The administration of a suppository to his freshly spanked botty just before the shopping trip would enhance his blushes and discomfort at the till.”

******

Auntie made me reply, as was only courteous -

“Dear GovernessX, My Aunt has instructed me to thank you for deigning to notice my need for correction and for your suggestions. She has directed me to arrange a showing of the latest Timmy film before she makes a final decision on how to punish me. She has also suggested that I should express my deepest gratitude that you have not summarily dismissed me - and I do. Thank you for showing the picture of TT - it is an inspiration. I am now being sent to bed to reflect overnight on my disobedience. I have still not been allowed to go to the loo. Auntie says I need to get used to using my nappy. Indeed, if I have done no more than make it wet by the morning she says that she will adopt your call for a soapy enema. But she also says that she is getting too old to take care of me all by herself so she has asked Nina to come to lunch and stay at least for the day. Please, please forgive me and don't give Auntie any more ideas! I already know Nina gets very excited at seeing me caned and she has a funny fixation about feeling my tongue in a certain place! I just hope Auntie gives her an enema as well if they start to focus on those sorts of ideas! With respect and gratitude for your gracious attention, Joe bbit"

******

This morning when I woke up my inner nappy was quite wet. I tried hard to contain myself last night but I woke up in the middle of the night and just had to let it go. The relief was bliss and it felt strangely comfortable to be lying in a warm, wet nappy, secure in my new plastic panties. I curled up, feeling like a naughty little boy and must have gone to sleep quite quickly. This morning my little willy was as stiff as could be when I woke up, but I could also feel a more pressing need. The tampon had been in place all night and must have swollen a bit. I could feel its presence but I also felt the urge to push it out – it seemed to be living up to its name and felt like a plug under pressure. I did not dare to go to the bathroom without permission so I swung carefully out of bed and headed to the kitchen – perhaps a nice cup of morning tea would soften Auntie’s heart. To my surprise the nappy seemed to be doing its job and there was no sound or feel of squelching as I walked. But I needed to go pretty soon or there probably would be…

Auntie woke and stretched when I went in with the tray. She even patted my cheek and said, ‘Such a sweet boy, thank you.’ Then as she woke properly she reached out and touched my pyjama bottom. ‘Have you been a good boy?’ Her hand lifted the slight bulge of the nappy between my legs. ‘Oh yes, that feels quite wet,’ and she settled back against her pillows, reaching for her tea with a little smile.

‘Auntie, the thing is I need to…er, you know…,’ I said, not quite knowing how to phrase it.

‘Need to what, dear? Come along, come along. What is it you need to do, Joe?’

‘To, to…do big jobs as well, Auntie,’ I finally almost whispered.

‘Well dear, that’s why you are so well nappied. Of course you need to do ‘big jobs’. It’s important for you to open your bowels, especially today. And it’s important for you to become accustomed to the nappies.’ It dawned on me that she really was not going to let me go to the bathroom. What did she mean, ‘especially today’?

‘Now Joe, there is a glass on the basin there. Go and drink two big glasses of water. That should help. Then take your pyjamas off and go to the corner.’ My heart sank. There was to be no escape.

‘No, not that corner, Joe. Move the massage bench out into the middle there, and then stand in that corner.’

Auntie had a heavy, high and narrow massage bench in the corner of her room. She had a girl come up from the village beautician’s once a week to massage her when we were home and she found she could not relax on the folding bench the girl brought with her. She had found this old, leather-padded bench in an antique shop and loved to lie on it for her weekly pummelling. It was heavy and the effort of tugging it out into the space at the foot of her bed and the state of my insides gave rise to an audible passage of wind deep within my nappies.

‘Are you trying to blow bubbles, Joe,’ she giggled. ‘I thought you were properly plugged. Oh, I suppose that won’t be helping. Come here.’ She made me turn and pull down the back of my pants and nappies and I felt her grasp the string and slowly pull the tampon out with a series of little tugs. I was desperately fighting to make sure nothing else came out and I was relieved when she dropped the soggy item into the nappy and pulled it all up in place again, sending me off to stand in the appointed corner. Somehow the escape of wind and the removal of the tampon helped relieve the pressure for a while, but it was only temporary.

‘Joe, have you done anything yet? We don’t have all morning.’

Her voice cut into my reverie. I shook my head, mumbling an apology, but she interrupted me impatiently.

‘Step back one pace, Joe, and bend your knees. That’s it, squat down, bend forward and put you elbows on your knees. We’ll see if that helps.’

The effect was quite rapid. And noisy.

‘There, tut tut, now I think we have a little boy with very dirty nappies.’ I heard her voice behind me. ‘Have you finished? Quite sure? Stand up.’ She felt the outside of the plastic pants with both hands, pressing this way and that. ‘What a dirty little boy,’ she repeated softly close to my ear. ‘And smelly too.’ I felt a tear of shame run down my cheek.

‘Now you may go to the bathroom. Clean yourself thoroughly, wash out your plastic pants and dry them and then have a thorough shower. Put on a clean nappy and your plastic pants and shorts with your grey school shirt. No tampon today. Open the windows in the bathroom and make sure it is immaculate. You are to scrub your hands and nails thoroughly when you have finished, then go to the kitchen and prepare everything for a light lunch for our guest. Off you go.’

I nodded and turned to make my escape when I noticed the massage table and went over to pull it back into the corner.

‘No, I think that can stay there Joe. And come to think of it, run up to the box room. You will find some things hanging on the inside of the door. Bring them all down here.’

I walked carefully up the stairs, accompanied by a slight squelch from my nappies. What on earth did she want from the box room? The answer soon became apparent. As I opened the door I heard the flapping of the heavy leather luggage straps hanging on the back of the door. There were two very long, wide trunk straps and an assortment of others. With a heavy heart I gathered them in my arms and carried them down.

‘On the foot of the bed, Joe.’

She sat propped against her pillows and watched me arrange the straps neatly on the bed, avoiding her eyes. ‘And while you are here, open the bottom drawer of the tallboy, take out what you find there and lay them out beside the straps. I bent down and opened the drawer. My spirits sank further. I recognised Auntie’s whippy, crook-handled school cane. But beside it was another, longer, heavier; as well as a heavy leather strap and a plain cardboard box about the size of a document box. I took them all out and arranged them on the bed, hanging my head.

‘Look up, Joe. Look me in the eye. You have a lesson to learn, Joe. A painful but important lesson. It will help you to learn to obey. We are going to help you as much as we can today, Joe. And I think it will be a lesson that will stay with you for a little while. Now run along and do as I said. While you are there you can take out two enema kits as well. I want you clean inside as well as outside before we start. But we’ll see to that after lunch. Once lunch is prepared you may write a short report of your preparations and send it to your Governess and your little friends. I hope she will be pleased to hear about your progress.’

So, here, GovernessX and friends, is my report. I don’t know if I will be in any fit state later this evening to tell you what happened but I’ll try, perhaps tomorrow. I’m sorry about coming to the website unplugged this time but I’m following Auntie’s instructions. I think I’ll probably remember not to do it again.

******

As the sting of Auntie’s single cut with the cane started to fade and the general heat of my well-strapped bottom started to reassert itself, I had time contemplate my situation. I realised I could even see the bright red seat of my discomfort! The mirrors on Auntie’s dressing table and large Victorian wardrobe were juxtaposed in such a way that I found myself staring in an almost detached way at a glowing upraised bum, the crook of a school cane jauntily tucked between its cheeks and a single red line still visible. Looking to my left I could see the heavier cane lying at hand on the bed. The involuntary clench of my buttocks caught my eye in the mirror and somehow my feeling of detachment started to ebb and my concern started to rise.

The ladies took their time over their tea. I found myself wishing for their return. There was no escape, best get it over with. At last the door opened and the corner of the mirror revealed that Auntie led the way, followed by Nina, still naked below her tight-fitting bodice. I sensed Auntie beside me, then felt her lift the cane from its resting place.

‘I trust you have thought about your disobedience and are starting to regret it. Are you ready to receive your punishment, Joe?’ she asked.

I knew what was expected – these matters follow a certain ritual and it is best to comply with expectations.

‘Yes Auntie. I am so sorry I have been such a naughty boy and I know I deserve to be caned. Thank you for taking the trouble to help me improve and thank you for inviting Miss Nina to witness and help with my correction and training. Thank you both. Please may I have my punishment.’

‘Very well. A pretty speech. Make sure you express your gratitude properly as we deliver it. Now,’ she started to tap the cane gently and regularly across the centre my bottom. ‘We shall start with the school cane and, in deference to your Governess, whom you also disobeyed, you will receive six sets of six. I shall deliver the first two sets and then Miss Nina will have an opportunity to demonstrate to me how her technique has developed. I understand you gave her reason to practice not infrequently last summer.’

The tapping of the cane had continued while she was talking, the instrument travelling to the top of my rump and then down to the curve by my thighs. It was almost as though she were outlining the target area and at the same time building rhythm and momentum. Suddenly the cane was still, then rose. I stared in horrid fascination at the image in the mirror. I heard the downward swish but barely saw the cane before the impact. There was a split second of numbness, then the line of fire shot across my bottom and I saw the new red line. I bit my lip and stayed silent, closing my eyes as the downward swish was repeated. My bottom jerked but the heavy strap held me securely in place. No respite – another swish – another fiery line and another. I was unable to restrain myself from letting out gasps as the fifth and sixth strokes fell. I tried to twist my bottom away but could not avoid the stinging cuts. There were six lines across my bottom, almost evenly placed and equally distinct across both cheeks. Auntie was as accurate and vigorous as ever.

‘Thank you, Auntie,’ I blurted out, just in time. I felt the tips of her fingers following the lines of the welts, and then her whole hand patted me.

‘Well, so much for the first set,’ she said. ‘I think you did notice a slight tickle didn’t you – not too numb from the strap?’

‘It stings awfully Auntie. I’m sorry, very sorry.’

‘Ah yes, but how sorry Joe?’ I think we shall have to make you a little sorrier yet. Brace yourself.’

Swish – crack – Ow!
Swish – crack – Ow!

‘Ah, I think we are starting to have a little effect, my dear,’ Auntie commented, apparently to Nina, who remained quiet while the remainder of the second six fell on the bobbing buttocks.

I was less quiet. A note of pleading started to become apparent in my voice but the cane stung harder if anything. But once again I gabbled my thanks after the sixth cut and saved myself from extras – so far.

‘There, my dear. Now all you have to do is fill in the spaces. You should be firm but controlled. I expect tears, I expect wheals and I want to see a thoroughly beaten bottom but without cuts. Show me how well you have learned.’

The lines on my bottom were closer together now but still distinct. I turned my head away from the mirror and saw Nina come to take the cane from Auntie. She looked down at me and smiled – there was something feline about her expression. She stood close to my head, her trimmed mound only inches from my face and I could smell the musky aroma of her excitement.

‘Do you have something to say, Joe?’ she enquired with a slight lift of one eyebrow.

‘Yes, please, Miss Nina, Please may I have the rest of my punishment. Thank you.’ I mumbled, not quite so sweetly.

‘The rest? Oh that isn’t in my gift, Joe. I’m just going to give you the next four sets of six.’

My heart sank as I remembered the other cane. But I quickly responded, ‘Please Miss, may I have the next four sets,’ hoping my mistake had not irritated Auntie.

Nina, conscious of Auntie’s instructions no doubt, modulated her efforts carefully. She made me gasp and twist and it stung dreadfully but she did not cut me. In between each six she paused and stroked my burning cheeks, feeling the welts as if to check the results of her efforts. Once she just stood back and ran the tip of the cane down each side of the cleft of my bottom, pulled slightly open because my legs were bent and pulled apart by the straps. She tickled the underside of my balls and tapped my soft little willy with it.

‘Not so eager when it’s a cane rather than my hand spanking you, eh?’ she teased me.

Then she lifted the cane and let the tip run very slowly down the centre of my cleft. I felt it poke a little at the opening of my botty hole. For a moment I thought she was going to stick it into me but she raised it, bringing it down with a sharp tap in the centre of that delicate valley. She bent forward over me and whispered huskily, ‘Remember, you still owe me a special penalty.’

The last six were sharp and quick and by this time my bottom was on fire. When it was over I thanked her, managing to sound grateful.

Auntie inspected my bottom and congratulated her on her skill with the school cane. ‘But I think I shall take over now. The last part of your caning, Joe, is going to be rather painful I’m afraid. But you have left me no choice. If the threat of the school cane is insufficient to secure your obedience then sterner measures must be brought to bear.’

She turned and picked up the heavy, straight cane. It had a black handle instead of a crook and was a little longer than the school cane. Auntie swished it through the air within my view and it sounded ominous. ‘Two sets of six, Joe. Two sets of six. I’m afraid you will be bruised and uncomfortable for some time to come. Perhaps it will help you remember. Now brace yourself.’

Auntie tapped my bottom just a few times to judge weight and distance and then brought the cane whistling down. She was right. It hurt. A lot. In an involuntary movement I put my hands back to protect my bottom.

‘Nina, come here and strap his hands out of the way.’ Nina picked up two more straps from the bed and fastened my wrists to the end of the table, ‘That will help you be good,’ she murmured, and stood beside me, an arm across my back, to watch the rest of the caning.

I thought I felt her wince a split second before the cane struck and she pressed my side as I jumped and howled. For a moment I thought it was sympathy but after a few more strokes I heard a little moan and realised it was another emotion that gripped her.

‘Thank you Auntie,’ I managed to gasp after the first six. My bottom was becoming numb, but the tears were already flowing. I gave up trying to control my reactions and howled at each stroke, twisting against the straps to try to distract myself from each new sting. Somehow I registered the quivering of the naked bottom by my face and the pressure of the arm on my back as the last two strokes fell. My yell drowned out the little sob that came from Nina but afterwards I realised how much the sight of my rippling red bottom and the sound of my gasps had affected her. As she turned and pressed herself against my shoulder I felt her wetness.

I managed the final ceremony of thanking Auntie and was relieved as she indicated to Nina to release my hands. I waited for her to start undoing the other straps. I felt drained emotionally and my bottom was on fire. But the straps remained fastened as Auntie sat down on the bed and Nina inspected my bruises. Surely it was over? Nina put her hand on my shoulder and her lips by my ear. ‘Your bottom is deeper red than I have ever seen it, Joe. And still sticking up there like an invitation. I love it when you wriggle it. But your little willy has virtually disappeared. I don’t think it will ever stand up again!’

‘Well, I think he will remember his nappy in future, my dear,’ Auntie sighed. ‘Such a tiring business, all this spanking and caning. I think I shall simply relax and let you make sure he remembers the other thing. Perhaps I shall even find it entertaining. Now come here my dear and see the little present I have for you.’

She turned to the box that lay on the bed and I finally realised what lay ahead.

******

I watched in mute fascination as Auntie helped Nina into the harness, spreading lubricant on the inner phallus. She inserted a small silver-coloured cylinder into a pocket just in front of the phallus and picked up a little wireless remote control, pressing the button to check that the miniature vibrator was working. Nina giggled excitedly, then made a little moaning noise as Auntie pressed the phallus deep into her, drawing the external dildo erect in front of her and adjusting the harness over her bottom. Once again Auntie flicked the switch on the remote control and Nina squealed and squirmed her hips, giggling.

The tube and bulb controlling the ejaculation through the dildo clipped to the side of the harness where Nina could squeeze it at will. She danced across to examine herself in the mirror, wiggling her hips to make the dildo dance and then making thrusting motions accompanied by deep throaty grunts, followed by peals of laughter. ‘What a lovely cock I have. And it feels so lovely when I pull on it,’ she said, pretending to masturbate the dildo and actually moving the phallus inside her as she pressed her hips forward. She danced over to where I lay, still strapped down, my head on one side.

‘Do you like my lovely cock, Joe?’ I nodded, smiling weakly. ‘I think we’ll have to make that Jo without an ‘e’ if you like cock so much, sissy Joe. Would you like to suck my cock, sissy Jo?’ I shook my head and clenched my mouth shut. She put her fingers in my hair and gently pulled my face towards her. ‘Now ask nicely, sissy Jo, or I won’t let you. Ask nicely or Auntie will make me cane you until you do.’

I knew I was helpless. ‘Please may I suck your lovely cock, Miss Nina,’ I croaked, resigning myself to having to do it. ‘Please let me suck you.’

She giggled and pulled my head forward, pressing the dildo between my lips, then deep into my mouth. ‘You naughty little cock-sucker. You love it don’t you. What a little slut you are. I know what you really want. Oh yes. What you really want is to have my big cock in that sissy hole of yours, isn’t it? Isn’t it?’ She pulled my head back a little and laughed at my look of panic, as I tried to shake my head with the dildo almost in my throat.

‘You’ll have to ask nicely again. Don’t try to talk with your mouth full, it’s very rude.’ As she pulled back she raised her eyebrow and waited expectantly.

 ‘Please..’ I faltered. ‘Please what?’ ‘Please would you put your big cock in my sissy hole.’

‘And what do you want me to do then? Do you want me to give you a good seeing to, my naughty little slut? Do you want me to …’ she lowered her voice and bent towards me, ‘to fuck you hard and come inside you – is that what you want, little Jo? You’ll have to ask or would you like some more cane as well?’

‘Please, please, give me a good seeing to. Please put your big cock in my sissy hole, fuck me hard and squirt your cream high up inside me. Please, please fuck me Miss Nina.’

She smiled in delight and bent down to press a wet kiss on my cheek. ‘Oh, yes my little slut, I’m going to give you the screwing of your life.’

She straightened up, took the tube of lubricant from the bed and moved behind me. She pressed it against my bottom and squirted lubricant into me. I wriggled against the tube. Then I felt her undoing the straps around my legs. When they were free she placed the cock in the cleft of my bottom and squirted more lubricant onto it. Then she leant forward and, pressing the length of the cock against my bottom, slowly undid the large strap holding me down.

‘We don’t want to stop you wriggling that sexy little bottom do we?’ she said. ‘I know you are begging for it, little slut. You want this whole length deep inside don’t you? Well, come on, press it in.’

She had placed the tip of the cock against my bottom hole and taken a firm hold on the corners of the table but she did not press it into me. It felt familiar, like the plug I had become used to. I found myself pressing back against it.

I felt the head slip in, then a little more, ‘Please,’ I groaned pressing back more, ‘Oh please!’ I begged anxiously as she swayed away from me, then as she pressed forward, ‘Oh yes!‘ I pressed all the way back against her and felt her slide into me, pull back slowly then press forward again, pressing me down against the bolster. ‘Oh take me, fuck me hard!’ I moaned.

I felt the vibrator start to throb gently as she pistoned into me and I heard her breathing coming faster. I sensed Auntie rising from the bed, caught the movement of the cane in the mirror and felt Nina thrust hard against me as the school cane cracked lightly against her bottom. As each swish descended she thrust into me and suddenly something strange began to happen. My little willy was soft but I could feel the stirrings of a rising orgasm as the thrusts came harder. I started to quiver, pressing my bottom back against the throbbing cock and suddenly waves of orgasm shivered through me. Not a single, male ejaculatory orgasm but something else. Wave after wave with growing intensity until I felt Nina quiver behind me, thrusting and pinning me to the table as she clutched her side and sent her cream pulsing deep inside me. I collapsed forward, sobbing for air as I felt her pull out of me and the warm cream running down the back of my legs.

‘Not bad, Sissy Jo, my naughty little slut.’

*****

Nina almost bounced into the kitchen, exuberant, open and laughing. She gave me a bear-hug, pressing her taut tummy against me and wriggling her hips as she reached behind me and patted my nappied bottom through my shorts.

‘I hear you have been dreadfully naughty, Joe, and have to be punished severely in the eternal struggle to improve your behaviour.’

She stepped back, a mock severe expression on her devastatingly pretty face. Tossing her head like a young filly, she spun on the spot. ‘Do you simply love my outfit? I chose it specially for you and Aunt Sarah. Severe, sexy, simple. What do you think?’ She span again, showing off her laced bodice, revealing the most succulent décolletage and emphasising her narrow waist. A simple cotton skirt flared from her hips as she span. The waistband was tied in a bow and looked barely secure. She wore open sandals and her bare legs were smooth and athletic. He guessed that they were not encumbered by anything as bourgeois as knickers…

‘I fear Auntie has not forgotten a little indiscretion of mine, so I am probably for it as well! I bet you would love to see me get a spanking after what I did to you on the island! But let your enjoyment be tempered – Auntie said she wanted to see how well I have learned to use the cane! And apparently she has another surprise in store!’

Nina giggled as she elbowed me aside to inspect lunch.

‘I hope you have made lots, I’m starving,’ she said. ‘It must be the thought of caning the chef!’ She looked at me with a mockingly lascivious expression and slowly licked her lips. ‘Let me see your tongue, Joe,’ she suddenly barked.

Without thinking I obediently opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue – I never could say no to Nina. She inspected it carefully, touching it with a finger tip. ‘Yes,’ she sighed, licking her lips again, a little tremor seemingly passing through her lower body. Then she was gone – no doubt to work her charm on Auntie, reducing any penalty she may have earned and increasing her participation in mine.

Lunch was a success and as I cleared it away I hoped I had improved Auntie’s impression of me. She told me to wait for her to ring the bell and kept me waiting for ages as they chatted. Then the bell rang and I was called in, congratulated on lunch and given a large glass of sparkling water before being dispatched to the bathroom.

‘Stand in the corner and wait,’ I was told. To my surprise Nina joined me just a few minutes later, carrying the bell. More surprising was that her skirt was gone and she was wearing a nappy just like mine – she looked as though she did not know whether to sulk or giggle. She came and stood beside me in the corner, pushing me over a bit with her hip.

‘Auntie says we must both wet our nappies. Says we need to do it in company. We have to ring the bell when we are properly ready. Are you still dry?’

I nodded, a bit aghast. Somehow I thought it would be very difficult to stand here beside this lovely creature and wet my nappy. I could feel my little willy stiffening just looking at her. Her beautiful breasts were quite exposed by the bodice, a very pretty woman, but her bodice gave way to the bulk of the nappy – quite incongruous but incredibly erotic. I tried to relax – better not to keep Auntie waiting and actually I had felt like peeing earlier. I’m not sure how much time passed but suddenly she looked up at me and tensed her trunk slightly and smiled almost languorously. I realised she was wetting herself. At the same time I forgot the tension and felt the warm flow of my own pee soaking my nappy.

‘Are you a naughty wet little boy now?’ she whispered – ‘I’m a very wet little girl.’ When I nodded she smiled and rang the bell vigorously. ‘I wonder what’s next?’ she said.

Auntie kept us waiting for a while before she came in and looked us up and down. ‘Both properly wet?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow. We nodded, looking shamefaced, and waited. ‘Stand in the bath, Joe,’ she ordered. Clearly she had decided to train Nina in dealing with me (perhaps she was not aware that Nina was already quite advanced in this sport). She made her remove my nappy, dispose of it and shower my lower parts, making such a great fuss of the dangly bits that they started to become less dangly. But before I could start enjoying this I was made to kneel and Nina put on plastic gloves before lubricating my bottom and inserting first a finger then the nozzle of the enema tube. Auntie had already filled the large open enema bag and the tube with warm soapy water. I think it must have been at least two pints. When Nina removed the nozzle she pressed a wad of cotton wool against my bottom and I was made to get out of the bath and stand in the corner again. Auntie made it clear that I was to hold every drop while I waited. Then she turned her attention to Nina.

I heard Nina climb into the bath and Auntie pulling down her nappy. The whole procedure was being repeated with a fresh enema and I could not resist the temptation to turn my head and look as the nozzle was gently pressed into that gorgeous bottom. Suddenly there was a shout of protest. My eyes caught a movement in the mirror and I saw Nina was staring at my reflection.

‘He’s watching, Auntie. That naughty boy is watching me!’ Her voice was full of protest but I could see from the expression on her face that she was delighted.

Without a word Auntie picked up the soaking wet nappy she had just removed from Nina, walked across to me and pulled it down over my head. She arranged it so that the wettest side was over my nose and mouth, holding it there for a moment until I was gasping for breath and drawing in the scent of Nina’s fresh pee. I could see nothing but in due course I was led to the lavatory and allowed to empty myself before being flushed out a second time. I had to stand in the corner wearing the fragrant nappy until they were finished.

‘Dispose of that nappy, wash and then join Nina in the bedroom,’ Auntie said as she left.

I did as I was told, taking a last, almost reluctant, sniff of my erstwhile blindfold. Washed and clean, I knocked at the bedroom door.

‘Come in,’ I heard Auntie call. I entered to see Nina bent over the end of the massage table, her bottom bright red and Auntie’s left hand in the middle of her back. ‘Stand in the corner, Joe, and contemplate your turn.’

As I reached the corner I heard Auntie’s hand slap down on the pretty rump I had been allowed to view. As the rhythmic slaps continued I dared not try to sneak a view but my little willy started to stiffen nonetheless. I tried to ignore the thoughts of the other sights I had noticed – the canes and strap that lay on the bed, undoubtedly reserved for me.

After a few moments the slaps stopped. ‘Stand up, girl,’ Auntie said. ‘Now I am quite exhausted. I am going to go and take my afternoon nap before dealing with Joe. Meanwhile you can warm up that bottom of his just as I have yours. Over your knee or over the table, as you wish. Warm it properly with your hand and then bend him over the table and use the strap. Three sets of ten, but don’t overdo it. I want him to be able to feel the tickle of the cane later. – No caning until I return.’

And with that she left the room. I could hardly believe my ears. Spanking was one thing, but the thought of that strap in Nina’s strong right arm was scary – and just as a precursor to Auntie’s cane!

I stood stock still in the corner, hoping for some mercy from my comrade of a short while ago. Then I felt her behind me. First the points of her breasts, pressed up by the bodice. Then the brush of her hair on my shoulder, her hands reaching around my waist. Then the silk of her pubic hair as she dropped her hands, gripping my stiff little willy and pressing her mons into my bottom.

‘Are you so excited about the thought of going over my knee, little Joe? Well come along. No time to waste. I have a special job for that tongue of yours before Auntie comes back.’

But it’s late now. I’ll have to tell you the rest later, if anyone wants to hear…

*****

Alone with Nina in Auntie’s bedroom, my body trapped in the corner by the sweet pressure of hers, her right hand firmly holding my stiffening willy and her teasing, husky whisper in my ear!

‘I’m really a traditionalist at heart, Joe, so I think we’ll start with you over my knee.’ She turned me, using my willy as a handle and staying close to me. She pressed me down – ‘On your knees Joe. You can crawl after me, hungry for your spanking,’ the teasing tone ever present in her voice. As I dropped to my knees in front of her I realised she had trimmed her pubic hair quite short and fashioned it in the shape of a heart – or was it a bent-over bottom? She pushed it forward, almost touching my face. A subtle musky scent was already discernible, even so soon after the cleansing process.

‘Do you like my little trim, Joe? You may look but not touch. Do I smell nice? Well, enough for the moment.’ She turned and I could feel the heat from her bottom – Auntie could still deliver a sound spanking!

‘Follow me,’ she added unnecessarily and walked towards the bedside chair, moving it beside the bed. She raised her right foot up onto the chair and looked over her shoulder at me with a smile. ‘Before I spank you, you may kiss my poor bottom better. The more I enjoy your kissing, the less time I shall have to spank you.’ She turned away and presented me with the object of my instant devotion, leaning forward slightly.

As gently as I could I brushed my mouth over the reddened cheeks, blowing and kissing, nipping very softly with my lips at the under curve that had escaped the spanking and returning to the top of the cleft, where I planted a slightly heavier kiss. She murmured softly, swaying her hips and leaning forward a little more. Very lightly I ran the tip of my tongue down one side of the cleft and then up the other, repeating the movement in the opposite direction.

‘Oh Joe, that’s delicious. But stop teasing me!’ and she put her hands behind her, pulling her cheeks apart and revealing her beautiful bottom bud above the heavy folds of her labia, already glistening a little. I obeyed her unspoken demand and circled the little pursed opening with the tip of my tongue before kissing it. She pressed back against my lips with some urgency and I speared my tongue as far as I could into the tight little opening, twisting and pushing against her jerking bottom. Suddenly a little tremor passed through her and she was still. I felt her hands on my head, pushing me down so that my tongue could explore between the labia. This brought my nose against the opening still wet from my tongue as my tongue found its new target. I felt her hand reach back again and press my face against her. The double stimulation achieved by my nose and my tongue seemed to have an accelerated effect, perhaps aided by the glow of the recent spanking. Her orgasm seemed quiet but deep, her bottom pressing against my face, bucking and twisting against my nose as my tongue did its duty below.

After a moment she raised herself upright and I brushed a last kiss across the still glowing cheeks. ‘Mmm Joe. That was a lovely starter. Well done. Now it’s your turn, up you come.’ She sat on the chair and drew me across her lap, my upper body on the bed. Her left forearm lay in the small of my back as her right hand circled my bottom.

She chattered as she circled her target, pinching and prodding, pulling and pressing. My little willy was on fire, pressed into her silky smooth thigh. As her hand rose I tensed, ready for the smack, but it fell gently again, massaging my bottom, the fingertips drawing slowly down the cleft, nails scraping across the underside of my balls. I could not help myself. I gave an involuntary thrust against her thigh, emitting a deep groan of desire. Her hand fell like a strap and my bottom jumped. ‘If you anoint my thigh with your naughty juices you will have to pay the penalty, my wicked Joe.’ Each word was punctuated by a stinging slap on my rump. Slow, deliberate, rhythmic. I found I was pushing my bottom up to meet the slap and pressing forward, driven by the lust to press my burning willy into the warm velvet of her thigh. I knew there would be a penalty but I had already left the realms of rational thought. As the spanks descended, covering my bottom with fiery imprints, I started to lose control. I felt the heat deep within me, the throb of the rising pressure in my belly. The drops of natural lubricant were already spreading on her sweet skin and the thrust of my loins matched itself to the rhythm of her hand. Suddenly I felt the constriction deep within me and then the blessed relief as I pumped the essence of my whole being onto her thigh, hot, sticky and copious. She held me tightly, patting my bottom as the last involuntary jerks of my climax abated.

‘Oh dear, Joe! I think you must have been a little excited! That chalks up a penalty you will have to pay – in due course. But meanwhile you had better clean up your mess. Where is that tongue of yours?’ And she pushed me from her knees, pulling my face to her thigh and making me lick her clean of every drop of the salty cream of my lust. But as my tongue started to stray up her thigh she entwined her fingers in my hair, pulled back my head and looked at me, tongue between lips.

‘Oh no, Joe! It’s no use trying to distract me. We shall have to save your tongue for later.’ She turned and reached across the bed for the leather strap that lay beside the canes. ‘Auntie will be wake up soon and if I haven’t given you your little warm-up with this nice strap she may do it herself – to both of us – and when it comes to the strap, well, I prefer to wield it or watch! I wonder what she has in this box? Do you know?’

I shook my head and watched nervously as Nina reached for it. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t look,’ I protested, but too late.

She had carefully opened the lid and peeked inside. Her smile broadened as she extracted the tip of a black silicon dildo slowly, touching it to her lips. I had never seen one quite like it. As she drew it from the box I saw how realistic it looked, complete with balls. Dangling from these was a short tube with a black rubber bulb on the end. As she held the tip of the phallus to her lips she squeezed the rubber bulb carefully and a tiny drop of glistening liquid shot onto her face. She shouted with delight and amusement. I could now see there was a harness and the end of the dildo curved away behind the balls to form another perfectly modelled phallus designed to please the wearer of the harness.

‘Quite exquisite!’ she exclaimed. ‘What on earth does Auntie have in mind? I suppose we shall find out in due course. Not a word, Joe, or you’ll regret it.’ She grinned as she carefully returned the elaborate toy to its box and picked up the strap again.

‘Now come along Joe, up you get. Go and clean yourself at the basin then go to the end of the massage table, like Auntie made me do.’ I resigned myself to my fate, dried myself off with wipes and tissues at the basin and went to the table. ‘Bend over and grasp the sides of the table,’ she ordered. The table was a little low and she had taken a small bolster from the bed, placing it so that it was under my abdomen. ‘Chest and shoulders down on the leather and bottom high, Joe.’ She laid the cold leather on my bottom, tapping it up and down to test the flexibility and weight of the leather.

‘Three sets of ten, Joe. I will count but don’t forget to thank me at the end of the set or there will be extras. Brace yourself.’ The weight of the strap disappeared and there was a tummy-tightening pause before it exploded low down on the curve of my bottom. Another pause and the second fell higher. The third was in the middle and harder. I let out an audible gasp, and then managed to stay silent as the rest of the first set comprehensively covered my bottom. ‘Thank you, Miss Nina,’ I said, more in fear than gratitude. A longer pause and her hand reached out to gently stroke my burning cheeks. ‘Rather a fetching pink already, Joe,’ she said. ‘Now, the next set, just to keep you warm.’

She seemed to relent a little with the middle set, or perhaps the feeling was becoming slightly deadened in my rear end. Once again she stroked my buttocks after I had thanked her. She stood close to me and as she reached across, circling my right buttock, she pressed her silky mound against my left hip. She wriggled it a little, as if to scratch an itch, and then pressed against me.

‘I have to admit that I rather enjoy turning your bottom from white to red and making it so hot, Joe. I should love to feel your wicked tongue at the same time. But it’ll have to wait. I must finish you off now because I can hear Aunt Sarah is moving about.’

And she quickly delivered the final ten, with hardly a pause, forcing the tears from my eyes and making me gasp. She was only just in time. As I thanked her the door opened and I could almost feel Auntie’s eyes inspecting the scene. I heard her steps behind me and felt her hand on my bottom, fingertips running along welts and palms sensing the heat.

‘Excellent, Nina,’ she pronounced. ‘Most satisfactory. Good colour, well covered and ready for the cane. Now take that long luggage strap, my dear. I think it would be best to help Joe through the next little exercises by restraining his movement. We would not want him to buck about and disturb our pace would we?' Under Auntie’s direction Nina placed the heavy strap over the small of my back and under the massage table and then cinched it tight. She took smaller straps and, forcing my legs apart, strapped my knees and ankles to the legs of the table. I could move my head and shoulders and waggle my bright red bottom in the air but the rest of me was immobilised, firmly attached to the heavy table. Auntie had never restrained me like this before. Nor had I seen the heavier cane before. I have to admit that there was a tremor of fear although my head told me that neither Auntie nor Nina would set out to deliver lasting damage. But this did not seem quite such a game as it had earlier – it seemed I was to be punished properly for my disobedience.

‘Now Joe, I want you to remember the little details of how you feel because afterwards you are going to write an account. You are going to tell all your little friends about your caning and what follows. Your punishment and humiliation may even save some of them from making the same mistakes – although I have no doubt there will be a continuing need for their mummies, aunties and governesses to correct them.’ She picked up the school cane, whistled it down once across my bottom and then placed it on my back, the crook handle snugly in the cleft of my buttocks.

‘Think about it while Nina and I go and have a cup of tea…’

And they left me…trussed up…as they walked past, Auntie in her brocade silk gown with her hand resting on Nina’s still pink naked rump, to make tea!

******

I had a very, very sore bottom after being strapped and caned by both Nina and Auntie. It took almost two weeks for the marks to disappear but in a strange way I was almost sorry to see them fade as I studied them every day in the bathroom mirrors. In a way they were badges of achievement as well as shame. I know I deserved the spanking and was ashamed to have displeased Auntie, but I thought I had taken it well and not let her down in front of Nina.

What confused me more were my feelings about Nina. She made a joke about my naughtiness but was really just as naughty. Well, at least she had not escaped a spanking as well – I comforted myself with the memory of her glowing cheeks … But, although for an instant I felt smug about her not escaping, my thoughts rapidly moved on to the delicious scent and sights as she made me ‘kiss her better’.

The heat of her cheeks, the smell of her cleft, the salty taste of her skin as my tongue explored; my lips pressed against her sweet bottom bud and the stronger muskiness as my rigid tongue penetrated the tight muscles of that secret place. Then her hand on my head, pressing, urgent, directing me lower. The arch of her back allowing the tip of my tongue to find her love button as her essence anointed my taste buds and her hand on the back of my head pressed my nose hard against her slippery botty hole. The quivers of her pleasure, little moans and backward thrusts against my face…

Each time I emerge from this reverie my little willy is tenting my pants and I cannot resist pressing it against whatever is available – the kitchen worktop, the mattress and sometimes, I fear, my hand. Once or twice this has led to a little accident that would certainly have earned me another spanking had I not been quick to conceal the evidence. But at other times my thoughts move rapidly on to the sight of her prancing in front of the mirror, leather-harnessed and tugging on the front of the U shaped dildo as she wiggled the other end deep inside herself to gales of delighted laughter. My little willy subsides as I remember the way she pressed her cock into my mouth and then made me beg her for the ultimate humiliation. I cried tears of shame as, strapped to the massage table, my bottom on fire I was forced to beg her to use me as her slut.

But the mystery was that before she took me she undid my bonds. It was I who pressed back against her phallus, opened myself wide and begged. It was I who felt the growing excitement as she pressed into me, pumping and twisting. It was I who had a new sort of climax as I felt her pin me to the table and shoot a stream of hot cream deep into me. And as I sit here and think about it, squirming on my chair, the tampon in my botty hole feels so puny and still that the realisation slowly dawns. I want it to happen again.

And later tonight Nina will arrive to stay. Soon we leave for the Island, the three of us and Nina has let her apartment. She will stay with Auntie and me until we leave. On the few occasions she has dropped by since IT happened she has been cool and sweet and not mentioned it but, when Auntie’s attention was elsewhere, she has taken the chance to pinch my bottom or whisper ‘How’s my little slut, missing my cock?’ or make some other lude gesture to remind me. Now she is going to be here all the time! She rang earlier to tell us when she would arrive. Apparently she has cleared the flat and is storing some things here. She found some of her sister’s old school clothes in the spare bedroom and is bringing them. ‘Little sis was a bit chubby as a teenager,’ she told Auntie. ‘Some of her clothes are big enough to fit Joe and they will be handy for role-playing. There’s a navy gymslip and several netball skirts. And of course plenty of navy and green bloomers and white socks. Waste not, want not.’ Auntie smiled and agreed. She has the volume turned up on the ‘phone but I don’t know if she realises I can hear almost every word.

So it seems the adventures have already started this year and we have not even started the journey yet…

---

Joe's Island Adventures

Preface

As Joe pedalled along the cliff top path in the warm sunshine he had to raise his bottom off the saddle because the harness was a bit uncomfortable against the hard saddle. He had heard Sue mention a harness back in England but had not really understood what she was talking about. This morning, their first on the island since arriving from their stay in Copenhagen, he had begun to find out. Auntie had told him to come and knock at the sitting room door once he had finished clearing away the breakfast things. Sue had looked at him mischievously over the rim of her coffee cup. ‘We’ll open the first of the little surprise packages from your shopping trip,’ she said. ‘The start of your holiday course!’

Joe took his time over clearing breakfast. He knew he had better make a good job of it because Auntie always insisted on cleanliness and tidiness. The cottage kitchen was rustic in appearance but had modern fittings and was easy to work in. He had been trying hard to please both Auntie and Sue ever since they left England and had not been punished throughout the trip. In England Auntie had humiliated him by showing her friend his spanked bottom and Sue had made no secret of how much she was looking forward to giving him a spanking herself. There had been nothing in Auntie’s manner to indicate that she would protect him from it either. And now they were on Sue’s home territory she seemed to be taking charge more and more. Auntie seemed to be happy to relax and let Sue make the decisions.

The two women had spent a lot of time together in their shared room at the hotel and his bruises had had time to heal! His only moment of real embarrassment had been when Sue sent him to the very stylish and well stocked sex shop with a shopping list. He had not blushed until the girl behind the counter had read the list and looked at him with a mixture of amusement and sympathy on her face! He had stood there with bright red cheeks as she brought out the packages! Now, as he was unconsciously spinning out his kitchen duties to delay knocking on the sitting room door, he knew at least some of the mystery would be revealed.

He had half-expected something to happen the previous evening. They had arrived at the cottage in mid afternoon after a half-hour boat trip and he had been back to the jetty with a handcart to bring up all the bags. There were no roads or vehicles on the island; the main cottage stood alone about 300 metres from the jetty and overlooked a bay with white sand. On the other side of the island they had already sailed past the two holiday cottages that Sue let out occasionally. The only other building he noticed was the little schoolhouse about 200 metres from the cottage; its purpose was instantly recognisable from its high windows and slatted bell tower. The main cottage was the only building with electricity, provided by a combination of a diesel generator and a modern windmill.

Auntie and Sue took the two bedrooms upstairs. These were separated by a spacious sitting area with large windows and a balcony overlooking the sandy bay. There was also a luxurious bathroom. His room was downstairs next to the kitchen. When he had finished carrying the women’s bags upstairs he put his own into his room and dropped onto his bed. He had been working hard and was feeling the effects of being a bit out of condition. He lay back and rested his eyelids, the combination of sea air, warm sun and soft bed making him drowsy. He scratched his crutch lazily and thought about the trip. The boat had passed several islands and beaches close in to shore and there were a lot of people enjoying the sun and the sea. He had soon realised that out here a one-piece swim costume meant just a pair of bikini pants or a thong. None of the girls or women he had seen had been wearing tops! As his mind dwelled on the image of a swimming pontoon they had passed, festooned with lissom bronzed teenagers with pert breasts and virtually naked bottoms, he felt the inevitable stiffening in his shorts. He tried to hold the image behind his closed eyelids as his fingers stroked gently over tight cotton covering the tip of his swollen member.

‘There you are! I thought it was very quiet!’ Sue’s sharp tones slashed across his daydreams like the whistle of a cane. ‘Stand up! What’s the meaning of this?’ Her hand reached out and grasped the bulge at the front of his shorts, twisting and squeezing it roughly then releasing it. ‘You have only been here five minutes and you have already started to behave like a naughty adolescent. Lazing on your bed and playing with your little willy! I can see your training will have to start without delay if we are to instil some discipline into you and get you back into shape. I shall have to see if I can find time later to put you over my knee and give you your introductory lesson. Now get unpacked and tidied up. You are to wear long trousers and a shirt for the evening but you are excused a tie as we are on holiday. During the day you will wear shorts and sandals. If it is cold you may wear a shirt. But we have limited water and I don’t want it wasted on endless clothes washing. Now, when you have finished, come to the kitchen and I will show you how to use the cooker. Then you can make us all some supper. And don’t let me find you playing with your little willy again or it will be worse than a spanking over my knee!’ And she was gone – as suddenly as she had arrived. Joe stood rigidly beside his bed for a moment as the incident sank home. Sue was taking charge and there was nothing he could do but obey. He knew rebellion would only earn him punishment from his Aunt. And if he refused to accept his Aunt’s discipline he would be cast out and be on his own again. That would be even worse. Resigned to his fate he quickly started unpacking.

After that first dinner, which had fortunately been a success, he was saved from his immediate fate across Sue’s knee by the arrival of a young Danish couple who were renting one of the holiday cottages for a long weekend. Morten and Lise were in their mid-twenties, attractive and friendly. They lived at the Danish naval base just visible across the sound and had apparently been to the island many times before. They greeted Sue like old friends, but I sensed the warmth was tinged with what seemed like deference. Morten and Lise were both naval officers but Lise was on maternity leave, having given birth to their first child three months ago. She was very pretty with an open, direct manner, long dark hair and full breasts pressing against a plain bra visible in outline through a simple cotton blouse. She looked very fit and had a remarkably flat stomach and small waist for a recent mother. Sue welcomed them, introduced Auntie and me, and gave them the key to the cottage. ‘Joe,’ she said,’ you can help them carry their bags out to the cottage. Take the bicycle – you can hang the bags over the carrier to push it there, then cycle back.’ Joe welcomed the job. It delayed the promised retribution for his earlier misdemeanours and he had to admit it was a pleasure to walk behind Lise along the cliff top path. The sun was low in the sky but still bright and it shone through the light cotton dress swinging ahead of him. She wore full plain white cotton pants that protected her modesty but did nothing to hide the swell of her full but firm bottom and the long athletic legs that moved effortlessly over the rough path. She chatted cheerfully and fluently in English to include him in the conversation. It was the first time she had been away from her baby and she was excited to be taking a break, looking forward to an uninterrupted night’s sleep and obviously very happy. Her mother had arrived to look after the baby for the weekend. She had been pumping herself every day for a week to freeze breast milk and she joked about her production levels. She was thinking of offering the hospital supplies – ‘They pay well for it, Morten, and we could use the money!’ she joked. Joe had never heard such frank discussion of such things and he was slightly shocked but at the same time fascinated. Morten seemed quite relaxed about it. When they reached the cottage she took the bags from the bike, leant forward and kissed Joe on the cheek, squeezing his upper arm. ‘Thank you so much Joe. Be careful on the bike. Now you had better be on your way – I can see Morten is yawning already!’ she winked suggestively at her husband. Joe blushed, said his farewells and rode off. As he had turned he couldn’t help noticing a small damp patch on her blouse at the tip of her left breast. He had only ridden a few yards when Morten called him back. Lise must have gone inside because Morten was alone. ‘Joe, sorry, but could you do me a favour? I forgot there is no power here and I think my mobile needs recharging. I am on standby and I have to be able to be called back to the base. Do you think you could take it back and charge it up for me overnight? I’m sure there won’t be any calls during the night but if there are could you take a message and cycle over? I’ll pick it up after breakfast so you can forget it then.’ Joe took the proffered mobile and charging unit. ‘No problem,’ he said, swinging the bike round and fighting the urge to stare at Lise, who had reappeared, her blouse unbuttoned. ‘See you tomorrow,’ he called as he pedalled away.

When he got back to the main cottage Sue had already gone up and Aunty was on the stairs. ‘Goodnight, Joe,’ she called down. ‘We are going to have an early night – it’s been a long day. You’d better do the same. And straight to sleep – no nonsense. Sue told me what she found you doing earlier – it’s not forgotten. I want you up early in the morning and have a shower. Make sure you are thoroughly clean everywhere – we shall be checking.’ And she had smiled before turning and going on up.

He had been happy to obey. He was tired and had a lot to reflect on. He was soon in bed, thinking about how the day had been and what lay in store for him. Inevitably he found his loins stirring and as he pictured the silhouette of Lise’s legs against the setting sun he became rock hard. But he knew he had to fight temptation. Somehow Auntie would know if he failed. The thought of being put across her lap did not lessen his priapism: he concentrated on the thought of being sent away in disgrace if he failed her and that seemed to work. He listened to the waves, kept his hands above his waist, turned on his side and curled up a little and after a while sleep came.

In the morning he was woken by the screeching of the gulls and the sun streaming through his window. He lay and stretched, pushing up his hips and tenting the single sheet with his morning erection. He could not resist repeating the movement a few times, feeling the sheet rubbing tantalisingly over the sensitive tip of his willy. It took a huge effort of will, as well as the thought of Sue’s admonition the previous day, to stop exciting himself and swing his legs out of bed. He pressed down on his rigid cock but it sprang straight up again as he stood up and moved towards the door. He had no dressing gown so he reached for a towel and held it loosely in front of his pyjamas in case there was anyone in the hall. Opening the door, he checked the corridor and darted across quickly into the downstairs bathroom/utility room. He locked the door and headed for the lavatory.

Standing and trying to pee was hopeless. He knew that however much he leant forward he would be aiming too high and make a mess. He turned and sat down, doubling forward and forcing the erection into the bowl. Perhaps the cold porcelain had some effect because the hardness softened slightly and a few drops came. Then as it softened more a high pressure stream came and he felt a glorious relief of pressure. Having dealt with the immediate need he headed for the shower as instructed, showered, shaved and cleaned up. Back in his room he put on boxer shorts and then cotton shorts, decided it was not warm enough to warrant a shirt, and headed for the kitchen.

He took tea up to the upstairs sitting room and then set the table in the kitchen for breakfast. Auntie and Sue came down and they all ate. As he began to clear up the women went into the sitting room and closed the door. He prevaricated for at least fifteen minutes but eventually realised he could be making matters worse. Reluctantly he knocked on the sitting room door and heard Sue tell him to come in.

Auntie and Sue were sitting at a coffee table with a cardboard box open in front of them. Joe recognised the plain green wrapping paper from the shop in Copenhagen and felt nervous but curious and slightly excited. ‘Come here, Joe,’ said Sue, pointing at a spot in front of her chair. ‘Did you do as we said this morning?’ ‘Yes-s, I, er, think so,’ replied Joe. ‘You don’t sound very certain,’ said Auntie; ‘I trust you behaved yourself during the night and had a thorough shower this morning?’ ‘Yes, Auntie.’ Joe was almost relieved – he was certain he had got that right. ‘And you are wearing just shorts?’ asked Sue. ‘Yes, well, um…’ ‘Now you sound positively uncertain,’ said Sue. ‘Come here.’ She reached out and undid the waist of his shorts, pulling down the zipper and the shorts almost in a single motion. ‘I thought so! I told you to wear shorts. I said nothing about underpants. From now on during the day you are to wear no underpants. It will be healthy for you to let the sea air circulate freely about your lower parts and underpants will just mean more water for washing. You have two pairs of shorts and you will rinse one each evening so that you are clean in the morning. Is that understood?’ Joe nodded, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, without consciously deciding on the ‘ma’am’.

‘Now take those pants off. I don’t want to see them again during the day.’ Reluctantly Joe pulled down his pants and took them off, folding them and placing them on a chair. He turned to face the women wearing only his sandals and with his hands trying to preserve some modesty. He was quickly robbed of that. ‘Hands on head,’ barked Auntie, ‘and for heavens sake stand up straight boy.’ Sue reached into the box and took out a black leather belt with stainless steel fittings. His immediate thought was that she was going to use it to spank him, but she stood up and came over to him. ‘You remember I mentioned a harness, Joe? It was when you were going through that little phase of playing with tampons as botty plugs,’ she reminded him with a cool smile. Joe cringed and nodded. Then, seeing the sharp look cross her eyes he managed to get out another ‘yes ma’am’ before there was more trouble.

‘Well, I had this made for you while we were in Copenhagen. It is adjustable so we were able to dispense with fittings there. It will also be easy to adjust it as you lose weight over the summer – one of your first training targets. You will be wearing a more suitable botty plug frequently during the coming weeks and you find that this will hold it in place quite securely. Now, let’s see how well it fits.’ As she put the belt round his waist he stood in abject horror; wearing a bottom plug for weeks? It had been weird enough with the tampon but what did Sue have in mind?

The belt fitted snugly round his waist, fastening at a flat slim buckle on his hip. He had noticed there were some stainless steel d-rings sown onto it and he felt one cold against the centre of his back and two at the front, slightly separate. Sue turned back towards the box and extracted a black leather strap that divided close to the halfway point into twin thinner straps. On the wider single strap, just above the division, there was a steel ring attached to one side of the leather by thin leather straps that slotted through the main strap and were connected to the other side of it by heavy duty elastic. Sue held it on one palm and admired the craftsmanship. Taking the ring between finger and thumb she showed how it could be flexed, sliding back and forth. Then she slid her middle finger through the ring, her knuckle held down against the strap. ‘You see, we slide the botty plug in here and the base clicks into the ring. The main strap will hold it firmly up in place but the elastic allows for some to and fro movement. Not only can you walk with it in position but you will also be able to bend over and touch your toes without injuring your little botty inside – an important feature; quite comfortable, really, and beautifully made. Now let’s put it in place and get the adjustment right. I hope you washed your bottom properly.’

Sue walked behind him and pulled apart his buttocks, inspected, and apparently satisfied, released them. She slapped the back of his thighs to make him part his legs. She quickly buckled the strap at the rear and pushed the twin straps under his crutch, bringing her hand to the front to grip them. She stood behind him, pressing her firm breasts into his naked back as she reached forward and attached each strap to a d-ring at the front. As she pulled them tight he felt the cold pressure of the steel ring underneath press against his sphincter and realised she had fitted it perfectly. Sue turned him around for Auntie to admire the fit. ‘Bend over,’ she said and reached between his cheeks to ensure the ring moved when she pulled on the elastic.

‘Now, Joe, when did you last do number twos?’ Auntie suddenly asked. He was aghast because he knew what would come next. ‘I thought so,’ muttered Auntie. She looked across at Sue. ‘We can’t plug his botty when he is in this state. I suppose it is the travelling. I’ll give him a nice warm enema to get him ready. Is everything in the bathroom cupboard?’ ‘Yes, I’ll come and help,’ said Sue. Joe felt excruciatingly embarrassed. He always felt humiliated when Aunty gave him an enema but to have Sue witness this indignity was awful. Reluctantly he followed Auntie as she led the way to the downstairs bathroom. ‘Look sharp!’ said Sue behind him, giving him a hard slap on the rump to get him moving.

As the little procession crossed the hall there was the sudden sound of a tune playing followed by the ring of a mobile phone. Morten’s phone! Hurriedly explaining he dashed into his room and picked up the mobile, still plugged into the recharger. ‘Hallo,’ he said, and there was an immediate response in Danish. He quickly passed the phone to Sue, shrugging his incomprehension; She spoke rapidly in Danish, listened, spoke again and hung up. ‘I’m afraid we shall have to postpone Joe’s treatment. Morten is needed urgently at the base and they have already dispatched a boat to pick him up at the jetty. Joe, go and put on your shorts and cycle over to the cottage and tell him. Here take the phone and charger with you. Let Morten take the bike so he can get to the jetty quickly. And leave that alone! You can wear it under your shorts and start getting used to it. Now go quickly!’ Sue’s voice had risen in irritation as Joe reached to unbuckle the belt of the harness. For a second he looked as though he would protest but her expression and her decisive manner quelled any rising rebellious thoughts and he pulled on his shorts, not daring to touch the boxer shorts, and ran out to get the bike.

He dismounted as the path descended to the bend just before the cottage because the going was rough. He could see from the footprints in the sand that the young couple had already been for a swim, so at least they were up. The harness still felt strange as he walked but it was certainly well made and was at least not rubbing him sore anywhere. He just hoped and prayed it did not show through the thin cotton of the shorts.

As he rounded the bend and the cottage came into sight he froze. Just a few metres in front of him Lise was sitting on the sand, her back to him and a tiny thong swimming costume visible only above the juncture of her bottom cheeks, two perfect orbs of pale skin with damp sand clinging to the lower curves. She was bowed forward and gently rocking, singing what sounded like a lullaby in Danish. Lying on the sand at right angles to her was Morten, wearing swim shorts but very obviously aroused under them. Joe could not see his head and shoulders, which were lying in Lise’s lap, but from the sucking sounds and the little moans it was clear he was very busy as Lise rocked him to and fro. While Joe stood rooted to the ground Lise dropped her hand a little so that the inside of her wrist was making light contact with the bulge in his shorts; his hips started to respond immediately.

Joe was fascinated to watch but terrified they would notice his presence and be embarrassed or, even worse, think he was deliberately spying. As quietly as he could he started to back the cycle away. Hardly daring to breathe he managed to retreat out of sight. But he still had the message to deliver. He went back a few more meters, climbed on the bike then rang the bell loudly. Cycling precariously forward he rounded the bend again and he saw he had given them enough time to separate. Morten was sitting up beside Lise looking red in the face and irritated. But the dribble of milk on his chin was clearly visible. Lise reached out a hand and smoothed it away with a grin. ‘Come on, don’t be grumpy. See, Joe has cycled all the way over with your phone. Hi Joe!’ She had presumably slipped her breast back into her bra but a damp stain was rapidly spreading on the cup. She registered Joe’s eyes flick to it and back to hers and her eyes were laughing. ‘Morten was just helping me out! I forgot to bring my pump,’ she giggled. Morten’s irritation switched to embarrassment and then swiftly to laughter, with a broad wink to Joe.

Joe smiled diffidently and then explained his mission, passing over the phone and charger. The laughter evaporated and Morton headed for the cottage, already talking fast on the mobile. In what seemed like seconds he was out again, fully dressed. He thanked Joe, pecked Lise and said something in Danish and was quickly on his way.

‘What a nuisance,’ Lise pouted. ‘Our first weekend alone. Oh well! Thanks for coming over so quickly Joe. It may be just an exercise and he’ll be back this evening or he may be gone for weeks. That’s the navy for you. I’m going to make a cup of tea and relax in the sun – would you like one?’

Joe realised he was hot and thirsty and nodded. ‘Yes please, I could drink a lake!’ Lisa told him to sit on the sofa on the balcony and went in, emerging a few minutes later with two high glasses of lemon tea which she put on the table in front of them. ‘It’s a bit hot yet,’ she warned and sat down beside him. She was still dressed in the skimpy swimming costume and plain white bra but she had slipped on a cotton shirt. Joe hardly followed her pleasantries but made appropriate responses as the scene he had witnessed kept flashing into his head. He reached for the tea to try to distract himself but it was still to hot and he burnt his lips. She saw and looked concerned, reaching up and touching them. ‘Poor Joe,’ she murmured. Then she saw my eyes flicker down. She looked down herself and saw that the shirt was already quite wet over her left breast.

‘Oh dear,’ she said, almost to herself. ‘I have so much milk since I have been pumping myself to prepare for this weekend. Now it is all going to waste and Morten isn’t here to help. He’d only emptied this side,’ she said, clasping her right breast and glancing at Joe. Then she suddenly looked back at him, weighing him up silently. She smiled slowly. ‘Joe, you’ve been so good and helpful already,’ she said in a little-girl voice. ‘And you did say you could drink a lake…She reached up and put her hand on his neck gently. He could not believe what he was hearing. As he looked into the eyes of this beautiful young woman he was almost mesmerised. ‘Come, baby,’ she murmured, a mischievous smile playing around the corners of her eyes and mouth. The pressure on his neck became firmer as she pulled him down. He followed her directions, swinging his legs out along the sofa and laying his head in her lap. She put her left hand behind his neck and slowly slipped the bra cup up clear of her breast. Her large dark aureoles contrasted with the milky white softness of the skin of her breast, lightly traced with tiny blue veins. The nipple was large and erect, traces of milk clinging to it as she ringed it with her right thumb and forefinger and gently lifted his mouth towards it. He opened his mouth and clamped it gently on the breast, sucking, gently at first but then a little harder as he tasted the sweet warm flow of her milk across his tongue. She started to rock his head and shoulders, making sweet sounds of reassurance and love, pressing him firmly into the wonder of her breast. His entire being seemed focused on her breast and her milk, wanting the feeling of love and security to last forever.

She seemed to have a lot of milk and he had been sucking for several minutes when her hand slid down and started gently patting his hip. Instinctively he curled up his legs on the sofa and twisted slightly so that her pats landed on his bottom. He suddenly realised there was a slight switch of focus as his willy started to stiffen. He didn’t want to break the magic of the moment, but she was ahead of him. Gently she pushed his legs down so that he was lying flat. Still clutching his head to her breast and rocking him, she moved her hand across the front of his shorts and he felt the inside of her wrist brush the tip of his willy. Her long fingers stretched down and gently cupped his balls before moving up to his pulsing member. She started gently to massage its length and then, as his hips started to jerk and he sucked hard on her breast, she increased the speed of the caress. The friction of her hand set up waves of energy deep in his being and he started thrusting hard against her palm. She cupped her palm and pressed against his thrusts, squeezing him and keeping the pressure of her wrist against the tip when her fingers reached down to his balls. He felt the urgency rising, the hot juices pumping inside him, the pain of their passage and the pulsating relief as they were released into his shorts under her cupped palm. She kept her hand there for a little while, rubbing him gently through his wet and sticky shorts. He had stopped sucking but still held her nipple in his mouth. She gently withdrew it and whispered in his ear. ‘Now we are both empty little Joe. That was nice. Very nice. You’ve had all my milk, but you seem to have brought lots of your own cream to the party!’ She giggled and looked down at the big stain on the front of his shorts…

***

Some readers may recall seeing short items about Joe. They may have wondered whether it was real or fantasy – or perhaps a mix...? Well, I guess I owe them a bit of an explanation – although I’m not ready to go totally public, oh no! But I’ll try to put things a bit more into context for those who have been kind enough to show an interest in Joe. It all started a long time ago...

Joe never really knew his parents. He occasionally thought he remembered his mother – beautiful and elegant in a formal low-cut dress, kissing him goodnight before going out; perhaps bending over his bed when she came back and brushing her lips on his hair. The full white breasts and the magic scent of her cleavage came flooding in as a potent image if he closed his eyes and concentrated as he lay in bed. But he could not be sure. It could be fantasy – a combination of unconsciously remembered scenes from films with the black and white photographs he still possessed of the young beauty in her ball gown, the handsome man standing proudly behind her. There were times in his young life when he had ached to be clutched to the breast in that picture; ached so that it was physically painful, his throat swelling with emotion and a tight vacuum deep inside him.

But growing up with Auntie was good. She was actually his mother’s cousin and only surviving relation. She was younger than his mother, unmarried and well enough off not to have to work, although she led a disciplined life and ran a well ordered and unostentatious household. She had not hesitated when his parents’ disappeared while on holiday in Kenya. She was staying in their home to look after him while they were away and when it was clear they would not be coming back as scheduled she packed his things and took him to her home. She raised him strictly but well. She encouraged him at school and gave him a warm loving home during the holidays. He was bright and spirited and she welcomed that. But she put up with no nonsense. If he overstepped the mark he would find himself over her knee. And when she caught him experimenting with cigarettes when he was eleven he was introduced to a heavy strap that made its presence felt several times again before he finally left Auntie to go to university. But she had always been loving and forgiving. Punishment was followed by gentleness and loving firmness and was never cruel or extreme.

When she found it too wearisome to control him constantly as an adolescent she had engaged the frequent services of the daughter of a neighbour. Aunt Sarah enjoyed a close relationship herself with the babysitter’s mother, Sue, and had no hesitation in leaving Joe in the care of Nina, a strong-minded and vigorous young lady. Nina was very fond of Joe but did not hesitate to correct him physically when she thought it appropriate. She knew Aunt Sarah’s philosophy – spare the rod and spoil the child – and she happily adopted the same approach. Although she was only three years older than him she was a generation ahead in terms of their relationship. Where Aunt Sarah was a little confused and disgusted when she stumbled on evidence of Joe’s inevitable wet dreams (or more conscious transgressions) Nina took an immediate grip on the problem! Joe had developed a healthy respect for the sting of Nina’s palm and the searing slap of her leather slipper. When Nina herself needed a little tenderness and attention she made sure Joe’s stiff tongue served her purpose and if he was very lucky he was rewarded by a skilled hand, inducing spasms of ecstasy in his little cock – and sticky soaked pants that in turn exposed him to humiliation. In time the baby-sitter relationship turned almost into a girl-friend/boyfriend relationship but that did not survive the parting of the ways as their careers developed. But they remained intimate if distant friends with more shared secrets than anyone could suspect.

Joe did well at university, often visiting Aunt Sarah during the vacations, but leading an independent and full life. He graduated and went to work in the advertising industry where his enthusiasm and inventiveness, combined with his ability to write good copy, led to rapid success. Visits to Aunt Sarah became less frequent – it was even difficult sometimes to take time to make a phone call now and then. Success led to more success and Joe was working hard and making lots of money. By the time he was thirty he thought he could do anything. At thirty five he burnt out.

Aunt Sarah came to rescue him. She picked up the pieces and took him home. She told him that it was a whole package. Either put himself in her charge, under her discipline, back to the relationship they had had when he was growing up – or reject her help and go into decline by himself. The choice was simple: under her sometimes stern exterior he knew there was a lot of love and a sense of fun. He had thrived back in her house and even started writing again – but short stories now. Of course he had been spanked a few times – that was part of the deal. In fact the last time Auntie had even shown of his spanked bottom to her friend Sue – but I think that was close to where we started…

So we’ll call this the preface and in Chapter 1 we’ll start to follow Joe’s island training course…

***

Chapter 1 – Getting to know Lise

We left Joe and Lise so we could reflect on how Joe had arrived on the island. They were at her holiday cottage and Joe had just been fed at a mother’s breast for the first time in his life. Joe was not sure if all this was really happening – perhaps he was dreaming? But her voice and chuckle sounded real enough. The attentive reader may recall her words:

‘Now we are both empty little Joe. That was nice. Very nice. You’ve had all my milk, but you seem to have brought lots of your own cream to the party!’ She giggled and looked down at the big stain on the front of his shorts…

As Lise giggled she was also thinking about practical matters. For Joe’s sake he should probably sort out those shorts before Sue or his Aunt saw him! Lise knew that Sue could make him suffer for his moment of release and she guessed Aunt Sarah was no less strict. It had not taken either Morten or her many moments to work out the relationships at the main cottage the night before. They had both paid their dues as Sue’s pupils in the past! Not that they would have it any other way…

‘You had better get cleaned up before you go back!’ She still held Joe’s head in her lap and indicated the front of his shorts with laughing eyes. ‘Why don’t you just run down into the sea and rinse yourself and the shorts at the same time? Then you can just tell them you couldn’t resist the urge to have a swim. You can’t go back like that,’ she smiled her genuine concern, as she wiped her fingers on the dry cotton near his waist.

‘I can’t,’ he said miserably, his predicament suddenly dawning on him. ‘I can’t. I’ll ruin the…’ he stopped, struck dumb. He knew sea water and fine leather would not be a good combination. It would be bad enough if there were traces of his liberal emissions already marking the new leather of the front straps of his harness. But he couldn’t explain to Lise. It would be too humiliating to confess that he had allowed himself to be strapped up this way, and if she guessed the purpose of the lower strap he would die of shame. He had to get away fast, go over to the next cove and wash the shorts there, out of sight. As he moved to sit up, her hand slid round his waist following the outline of the belt through the cotton; she could not fail to have felt it. ‘I’m sorry; I’ll have to go, straight away. I’m sorry..Th’thank you, it was wonderful – everything. But I must go.’ He looked crestfallen.

‘I understand,’ she said reassuringly, keeping her hand on the back of his shorts. As he stood up she let her light fingertips slide down the back of his shorts, following the strap to the start of the cleft and confirming what she had guessed. She understood; - probably a lot more than he did at this stage. She patted his bottom. ‘I understand,’ she repeated. ‘Off you go. But I might need you back later! Ask Auntie Sarah if you can come over and deliver any messages for me,’ she called as he headed up the path.

She lay back and thought about what had happened. She had been so looking forward to the weekend – to having the chance to be with Morten, just the two of them in this idyllic setting. He deserved a treat – he had been very good during the pregnancy and since the birth. Of course, so he should be! He had at least half the responsibility! - At least – she thought.

They had not planned on starting a family for another couple of years, but neither of them wanted her to use the pill and she had not liked the thought of mechanical devices. They had been using condoms. But one day Morten had become over-excited (- had it been the little switch of birch she had tickled him with? – she thought with a smile – well, ok, perhaps slightly more than tickled); he had been away on exercise for a fortnight and had been very eager. He had somehow managed to burst the rubber and when he withdrew there were just the remnants sticking to his fast-shrinking manhood. And if there had been any doubt it quickly disappeared as she felt his warm cream running out of her. She had made him lick her clean immediately and that had led to more delay! She squeezed her thighs together at the thought. Really she should have douched without delay! But it had been so good!

At least, once her pregnancy was confirmed, they hadn’t had to bother with the condoms. But she kept the birch switch handy to remind him of his carelessness; and of course he had to do quite a lot of cleaning up with that long pink tongue! As she had begun to feel a bit like a stranded whale (although he insisted she was more beautiful and radiant than ever) she had taken to making him do the clean-up before making the mess. So he exercised his tongue on her until she had tired of it and then he had to make the mess on himself as she gently encouraged him; she discovered she could produce the most remarkable fountains with the aid of the switch, her throaty encouragement and, as a special treat, the tip of her sharp little tongue in his ear! Towards the end she even tired of his tongue, although she still enjoyed her power to initiate those fountains.

After the birth there had been little time or energy for such games. And she had been quite sore for a while, as well as tired. Sensitive stitches and sore nipples were not conducive to much amorous play. He had been patient; had managed to accept that she was thinking more about the next feed for little Hans than the fun of making fountains; had accepted that another male was clamped to the breast that he so adored and accepted that his lips were not welcome there for the moment. But she knew he had looked forward to this weekend eagerly – she had been generous with her little hints about what she had in mind. And she was not planning just for his pleasure. At last she had felt desire rising in her own loins again…

They had called in briefly to pick up the keys from Sue. Lise and Sue had spoken about the weekend before – in fact Sue had given her gentle advice about Morten and promised to leave them entirely to themselves. It was a surprise to find Sarah and Joe there. Lise had met Sarah once before and her female intuition had told her that there was something special between Sue and Sarah. She had heard Joe mentioned, but as a problem child in Sarah’s family and not really a subject of interest to her. But for some reason Joe made an immediate impression on her. He seemed sweet and helpful – and slightly vulnerable. She had made an extra effort to be nice as he helped them with their bags. Most of her consciousness was concentrating on the sight of Morten’s broad shoulders and athletic behind – the graceful but powerful way he moved. Of course, as a special forces operator he was in the peak of physical condition- she had much to thank the navy for. She chuckled aloud at her private thoughts. But a little portion of her awareness was also on sweet Joe following behind her, pushing the bike. It was not an accident that she paused a couple of times at the tops of small rises in the path, raising her hands to shield her eyes against the low sun and admired the view. She had noticed the tantalising glimpses of Morten’s torso as the sun shone through his cotton shirt and decided it would be fun to tantalise Joe a little as well. The second time she did it she had turned quickly and made a remark to Joe about the view. The expression on his face as he quickly raised his eyes confirmed for her that her efforts had not been wasted! It was such fun to tease and good to know that she drew such attention again after her beached whale phase. She was proud of her shape and she enjoyed seeing men (an even a few women) finding it difficult to take their eyes of her.

But once Joe had cycled off she had turned her full attention onto Morten. He had picked her up and carried her into the cottage, depositing her on the bed. Leaning down and kissing her, his hands immediately started to caress her thigh. He was in a hurry: so was she. Her little games on the walk had aroused her more than she had realised. But she would make him wait – a little longer yet. She was going to let them enjoy the anticipation for a while until one or both lost control…

‘Come on, my little sailor boy. It’s too early for beddy bies! First a swim – the sea will be quite bracing this late in the evening and you are all sweaty and nasty. Last one in get’s a smacked botty!’ she tickled his side and rolled out from under him, her blouse already almost off. She had the advantage of a start – it is also easier to run while shedding a skirt than taking off shorts! She was swiftly naked and splashed into the cool water at least five meters ahead of him. ‘Really Morten,’ she called. ‘For a seal you’re very slow to get to the water!’ As he came after her in mock anger she dived and circled, bursting out of the water and hugging him from behind, her arms tight around his chest. ‘I think you were just dawdling 'cos you really want a smacked botty,’ she said.
She dropped her hands to his groin, just at wave height, and cupped his manhood. ‘Oh god! Where’s it gone?’ she cried, as she held her hands against him. ‘I had plans for this this evening and know it’s shrunk and almost disappeared. What on earth shall we do?’

‘I have an idea!’ responded Morten, thoughtfully. He turned in her arms and nuzzled her neck, wrapping his strong arms round her. She let her hands drop to the rise of his buttocks, her fingers curling slightly and resting at the top of his cleft. His hands felt good, gently massaging her hips, his thumbs close to the little pressure points that could send a wave of exquisite pleasure through her lower body. ‘If the swim is over we could go up to the cottage and get dry. Then, I could sit on the sofa and pretend to be President Clinton and you could kneel down in front of me and, very, very gently, put your mouth to my poor little frozen willy and see if you can blow it up. I think if you get a good seal with wet lips and keep blowing you will find it grows and grows and grows. What do you think about that idea, Monica?’

‘Now you really deserve a spanking,’ she cried, and slapped his wet bottom furiously as he tried to restrain her arms. To save himself he reached down and picked her up, carrying her out of the water and up the beach to the cottage veranda. She stopped struggling and put one arm on his shoulder, trailing her fingers over the muscles in his back. Her other hand reached up and touched her nipple – it had shrunk a little and felt very hard from the cold. ‘Look what’s happened to my poor little nipples – I think it is you that is going to have to blow on me.’ She put on a little pout and squeezed her breast gently in the direction of his face. His head dropped immediately and his lips circled her nipple with great care. She felt his warm breath on her breast and the tip of his tongue softly probing the hard nipple. By the time they reached the cottage her nipple was already reacting to the warmth and touch. She could feel that it was softening a little and swelling. She wanted him to suck just a little harder and he seemed to sense her need. But then he released her breast, with the softest of kisses on the very tip of her nipple. He raised his head, a look of wonder and love in his eyes.

‘First we must get you dry and warm all over. Then we have some serious catching up to do.’ As he held her with one hand he reached down and flicked a large towel out over the large bed set to one side of the open-plan cottage. He laid her down on the towel and kissed her nose playfully. ‘Just lay still, Ma’am,’ he instructed her. He took another large towel and laid it over her, rubbing her stomach, flanks and thighs quite vigorously. He took yet another towel and, gently lifting her head, wrapped it around her hair. He sat on the bed and carefully dried her feet and ankles, kissing each toe as he finished. ‘Mm, you taste a bit salty Ma’am. I wonder if you are like that all over?’ And the tip of his tongue started tracing its way up the inside of her ankle.

‘Are you trying to dry me or get me wet?’ she asked, one eyebrow raised in mock sternness. ‘Oh, both’ he replied, licking his lips slowly.

‘But perhaps I should light the stove. I don’t want you to get cold when I’m working so hard to warm you up,’ and he got up and went over and opened the front of the wood burner. It was already made up with good dry logs and one match was enough to light it. Soon it was crackling and the warmth was welcome in the cool evening air. On his way back to the bed he reached into her bag and took out her moisturising cream and a special oil that she had used to ease the healing of the stitches and to rub into her nipples after she had fed Hans. He lifted the towel from her legs and started gently massaging her legs with the cream. She lay back and relaxed, enjoying the feel of his hands and the smooth rhythmic strokes of the massage. He used his thumbs on the bottom of her feet, searching out the little pressure points that sent warm waves of sensation up her legs. Occasionally she rewarded him with small moans of appreciation or sighs of pleasure. When he had finished with her feet he asked her to turn over and massaged the back of her calves, then her thighs, stroking higher and higher. Occasionally he added cream and warmed it in his hands before applying it. Eventually he reached the top of her thighs, pushing the towel aside. His thumbs ran up the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, parting her legs slightly then moving to the outer flanks of her buttocks and up to her back.

The light strokes on her inner thighs and under the fullness of her bottom had started to stir her deep inside and she felt almost a twinge of disappointment as his hands slid up to her back. They were constantly moving, rhythmically and symmetrically, her shoulders, her neck, her arms and then in again to her shoulder blades and her spine. Once again she was totally relaxed as she felt his hands drop to her buttocks and his thumbs found those special little points, close to the charming dimples that showed in her cheeks when she lay this way. He applied the pressure with great care, moving his thumbs in small circles and as he found exactly the right combination of pressure and location she felt the indescribable feeling of utter relaxation combined with a wave of pleasure and warmth flowing through her lower body. His thumbs gradually reduced the pressure and his hands moved lightly in circles around her cheeks for a few moments, then came to rest. The tips of his thumbs slowly traced the circles of her lower buttocks as he bent and placed a light kiss at the top of her cleft, signalling the end of the massage. ‘Mm, that was heavenly, she murmured. She stretched her arms and turned over lazily, showing off her white breasts with the dark aureoles that he still found fascinating.

She reached up with one hand and stroked his face, curling her fingers behind his head and pulling his face down onto her breast. Her nipples were sensitive and erect and she wanted to feel his lips on them. For her one of the wonderful mysteries of nature was the restorative effect of her baby’s suckling. There is some sort of interconnection in the nervous system of a nursing mother that produces involuntary tension in the muscles around the womb and vagina as a response to the suckling of her baby. It helps to heal and strengthen the muscles and normalise the bladder function. It also helps to flatten the stomach and restore the figure. Lise wondered if this effect was unusually strong in her. Not only had it helped in the rapid recovery of her fitness and shape but she had also found it very pleasurable and relaxing. It was sensuous but not erotic when it was Hans at her breast. But Morten had always loved to play and nibble at her breasts and now she was ready to let him come back to them. She wanted to feel his lips and the power of his sucking; she wanted it for the sensation in her breasts but she also wanted to feel the sensation in her inner core, wanted to give way to the eroticism of it. She wanted it to be slow and languorous. And she wanted Morten to taste her milk, to soften from the manly role that came naturally to him in ordinary life, to be the vulnerable baby at her breast and let her lead their play.

He was eagerly kissing and playing with her nipples and, as he started to suck, her vaginal muscles contracted sharply and she felt a sudden aching need. She also sensed more urgency than languor in the hot mouth on her breast! She reached down with her free hand and confirmed his readiness. She hardly needed to touch him. She could feel the heat of his erection and as her fingertips brushed his balls he gave an involuntary thrust against her wrist. ‘Oh dear,’ she whispered. ‘Your little willy feels quite stiff and hot now. It seems to have got over its cold bath. I suppose we shall have to do something about it. Lie down on your back.’ She was savouring the thought of a long evening of love making but decided it would do no harm to deal with the immediate tensions first.

As he lay back, watching her intently, she sat up on the edge of the bed, playfully tugging at little strands of his pubic hair. She was careful not to touch his impressive erection or his balls – she sensed this would be quick but she didn’t want him to lose control until she was ready! She could already feel the warm dampness between her love lips but she reached for the oil as she knelt astride his hips. She was careful to keep her curls clear of his rampant member. ‘I think you may be on a very light trigger my boy. I must be careful not to touch the detonator. Now, hands behind your head – you can watch while I catch up with you a little. You are probably too out of practice to get this right so I’ll give you a demonstration.’ She poured a little oil on her fingertips and slid them down to the pouting pink lips he could see through the dark shiny curls. She parted her fingers, pressing the outer edges of the lips gently and not touching the pinkness. Her left hand went to her breasts and she played with them, gently squeezing and kneading as her right hand alternately pressed her lips together, then apart. She was teasing herself by not touching the inner surfaces but when she squeezed them together the pressure and friction on her aroused clitoris was exquisite. She swirled oil in around the entrance to her vagina, making sure it was well lubricated but still avoided touching her erect little love button. Morten watched intently, licking his lips but trying to relax and delay his own progress. She felt her own juices mingling with the oil and started to let her fingers brush more directly between her lips, her hand moving quicker. The first little shudders of elation ran through her hips and she closed her eyes. The touch of her fingers each side of her clitoris, pressing more firmly, started to work its magic. She squeezed her breasts harder and let out a little moan as the first little climax swept through her. Her hips trembled and she slowed the movement of her hand, parting her fingers again to stroke outside the inner lips, then letting them come to rest.

‘Well,’ she said with an artful grin. ‘I was only trying to catch up, but I seem to have overtaken you!’ Now you will have to do some work to keep me interested!’ She bent forward and grasped his wrists either side of his head, swinging her beautiful full breasts teasingly close to his mouth. ‘Now, if you want to spear me with that dangerous thing of yours you will have to pleasure me first. Which shall we start with?’ and she finally let his searching mouth lock on to her right breast. As he began to suck she lowered her shoulders and pressed the breast into his face, moaning a little. She could feel the familiar tightening in the muscles of her vagina and abdomen and as he sucked harder she started to feel that little ache of emptiness. She wanted to be filled, to feel him deep inside her, to squeeze his manhood with her vaginal muscles, to feel him thrust and start to lose control. But she wanted to stay in control herself – to enjoy it on many levels. She loved this position, riding him as he bucked and thrust, teasing him by drawing herself up until she could feel the air cold on her wet lips. Then sinking down and pressing herself onto him. As she smiled in anticipation she felt the milk running from her breast and heard him slurping greedily. His eyes were closed and he looked blissful. But she did not want him to relax too much at this stage. Slowly she raised her shoulders and pulled her upper body upright, stretching her breast slightly as his mouth tried to follow her up. Then he released the nipple with a little pop. The milk was still flowing and dropped on his chest as she raised her hips above his and reached for the oil.

‘Greedy boy! I think we’ll save the rest for later. Perhaps it’s time for a little ride.’ And she reached down and took his still rigid weapon in her left hand as she poured a little oil over the tip. ‘Besides, you haven’t finished my massage – you only did the outside’ and she swiftly raised the tip, put it to her entrance and sank slowly but fully down on it, with a little wriggle at the end to make sure she had it all. He started to thrust up but she pressed him down. ‘No, lie still or it will be over in a flash,’ she grinned at him. ‘I’m just going to sit here for a moment and see whether I like this unfamiliar intrusion.’ She sat still and heavy on him. He controlled himself to the extent that he did not thrust but she could feel the occasional twitches deep inside when he could not control the spasms of the muscles in his groin. She clenched her own muscles, pleased that she had restored her fitness enough to be able to squeeze him inside her. And she wiggled her hips a little as she squeezed, enjoying the pressure of his stiffness high inside her. She could feel she was very wet and she dropped her hand again, combing through their intermingled curls and then reaching for his hands.

He knew what she wanted. His hands moved to the tops of her thighs and his thumbs, trailing first in the little pool of oil at the base of his shaft, moved gently to her stretched lips, close to the little button. She clenched her muscles and raised her hips very slowly, luxuriating in the feel of his thick shaft being dragged out of her. She rose so high that he pushed up his hips to stay inside her. As he did, she pushed down in a smooth slow thrust, pressing hard into him then starting to rise very slowly. His thumbs gently teased around her clitoris, barely touching it but constantly moving. Once again she felt his hips follow her up and she pressed down, quickening the pace imperceptibly. She could already feel the control starting to slip and the friction of the thrusts was combining with the busy thumbs at her love button to start sending little waves of pre-orgasm through her. Each time she thrust down she could feel the pressure of his glans high inside her and she screwed her hips down onto him to increase it. Now the hips were rising to meet her thrusts and she could feel wild instinct taking over in the bucking body beneath her. She rode him harder and harder, wriggling her hips to increase the pressure on the sides of her passage as she completed the thrust, then rising high before thrusting down again and again. The waves of pleasure started to get stronger and as she slowed her movements to make them last she felt Morten take over the pace, thrusting up into her with deep grunts, his hard abdomen slapping against the underside of her thighs. As the pulses of pleasure finally overwhelmed her she sank down on the bucking, twisting, thrusting hips below her and thrilled to the little cry that came from him as he spurted his seed into her again and again. She felt it hot inside her and squeezed him hard to draw every last drop. Finally they were still except for the sound of their deep breaths and the gentle stroke of hand against hip and breast. They lay quiet for several minutes before she stirred, reached for the towel and eased herself up from him.

‘Gosh, you must have been saving that up for a long time – you’ve filled me to overflowing.’ She said as she tucked the towel between her legs. ‘I ought to make you lick it all up, really.’ But maybe I’ll forgive you this once – I quite enjoyed that and actually I got the feeling you did too.’ He grinned sheepishly and agreed. ‘Well, perhaps its best to give your tongue a little rest, because you still have an unfinished job to do later,’ she said as she weighed her breasts in her hands, avoiding touching the nipples. ‘Maybe we both need a little rest.’ She picked up a sarong and curled it around herself and threw a towel at him. ‘Let’s have a grown-up drink and watch the sun go down before I give you your evening milk. You might even get the flavour of brandy through my breast later – what a cocktail!’

***

As they sat outside and sipped their nightcaps in the cool evening air, Lise reflected on their lovemaking and how their vocabulary of passion and fun had developed since they first came to the island. They had not thought of themselves then as young innocents, but they had certainly widened and deepened the sensual side of their life.

It had started one day when Morten had received his annual personal review. They were already a couple and since they worked in quite different departments their liaison was not considered to be a problem. But they were both enthusiastic and ambitious and so far they had done well. Morten had been told by his boss that he had a bright career ahead of him but that he would do well to work hard on his spoken English. The ability to communicate successfully in English in professional, technical and social situations was an important asset to an ambitious officer. Lise had been told something very similar. When they compared notes they decided to work on it together and to find a tutor and mentor.

Sue, who was Anglo-Danish and totally bilingual, was looking for stimulation rather than work. When mutual friends mentioned Morten and Lise she saw it as an interesting challenge – to take two bright young people and train them brilliantly to achieve their own objectives – and provide her with an amusing diversion. She had been wondering what to do with the old schoolhouse on her island – its undisturbed contents had quite excited her imagination – and now she decided to launch an exclusive private language school. Morten and Lise were soon enrolled as her first clients.

At the time her ideas were revolutionary and stimulating. She proposed to teach them almost exclusively through role-play. They already had the basic skills but she would expand and polish these by supervising their acting out of a wide variety of roles. There were some interesting conditions. Morten and Lise would be expected to study and rehearse their roles during the week and then come to the island and play them out in English on Friday evening/Saturday. The programme for the rest of the weekend could vary according to how the role-play had gone. There could be extra tuition, free time, rewards or penalties – all to be decided by Sue following consultation with her students. Other role players could be introduced at Sue’s discretion.

Sue’s conditions were simple: there was to be complete mutual confidentiality and her decision, following consultation, was to be final. She insisted on obedience during training. Either of them could refuse to accept her authority at any time but in that case both would be considered to have withdrawn from the course, would leave the island and never be allowed to return.

Morten and Lise had talked it through, come to the conclusion that they had nothing to lose and perhaps much to gain and agreed to the conditions.

The first few weeks had been incredible. They were amazed at their own progress under Sue’s expert tuition. Their vocabulary expanded and their fluency increased by leaps and bounds. The secret was Sue’s ability to select the role-play scenarios and then act as the catalyst in stretching them and encouraging them as they acted out their roles. They worked in the old schoolhouse but moved the desks to one side and adapted the furniture layout to the fit the scenario. It had served as an office, conference room, ship’s bridge – even an aircraft. Sue threw in surprises, changes, crises – always realistic, often amusing, but above all challenging. Sometimes they used real events coming up in their work programmes and the training was already earning them plaudits from colleagues and visitors.

Then they sort of ‘plateaued’. In particular Morten had become over-confident and slap-dash about his preparation. Standards were slipping and Sue became vexed. After one particularly poor performance on a Friday evening she announced a change.

‘I was disappointed by your failure to use the new vocabulary you were supposed to have prepared this week. In fact your performance was below the standard I have come to expect, both of you. And Morten, you made some silly mistakes. I can see we shall have to try something new if we are to maintain your progress. Before we finish tonight we shall set the room up as it was originally – a classroom. And in the morning we shall have a good old-fashioned test covering the last month’s work. I think for once I shall join the role-play as the teacher.’

Morten and Lise exchanged glances: his a bit contrite, hers slightly irritated. They were both a bit embarrassed at the reprimand. It did not take them long to rearrange the furniture. There were four big old-fashioned heavy wooden desks with bench seats and sloping desktops as well as a shelf underneath. Each had probably accommodated three or four children. Morten and Lise could sit together in one (they had used one in the aircraft scenario) but Sue had them place all four out in two rows. There was a teacher’s high desk on the left side of the blackboard and a table in front of it. On the right side was a world map in a roll that pulled down like a blind. When they were almost finished Sue emerged from the old teacher’s office with a leather bound book and laid it on the table. She then went back into the office and they heard her opening cupboards and draws. They both went to look at the book. The lettering was faded but they could just make out ‘Straf..bog….skole’ – the old punishment book! Opening it, they could immediately see that it contained pages of punishment records. There was the date, a note of the offence in formal old language, the implement used (often a ‘spanskrør’ or cane, sometimes a leather strap) and a final column with a number. With the cane these were usually sixes but there were several twelves and even some eighteens. But the strap went up as high as 36!

Licking through the book they came to the last entries in the 1950s. Then Lise turned the page and was flabbergasted to see a new heading. ‘*** Island Language School 2006’. Fresh columns had been drawn and the left column already bore the following day’s date! As the significance of this sank in, Sue emerged from the office carrying four items. A large sand-filled timer like an old-fashioned egg timer and a bell that she placed on the front of the teacher’s desk; a heavy leather strap, about 30 cm long with a carved wooden handle, which she placed on the desk; and a long, curved handled cane that she hung over the front of the desk.

She surveyed the scene, apparently satisfied, and turned to look at them as they stood almost in shock beside the table. She glanced down at the open book and smiled.

‘As I have told you, the secret of success lies in preparation, speaking of which perhaps you should both go along now and start doing some serious revision while I set the test. Off you go!’

Her tone brooked no argument and they headed for the door. As they reached it her voice stopped them again. ‘Just a minute,’ she eyed them up and down as they turned. They were both wearing faded blue jeans and t-shirts. ‘Nine o’clock sharp in the morning and properly dressed. Shorts and a shirt for you, Morten, and a plain skirt and blouse for you, Lise. You will find them in your room. Now go, and I advise you to revise well.’ Morten started to open his mouth to speak but Lise physically bundled him out of the room.

When they got outside Morten was cross. ‘How could she speak to us like that? I was going to let her have a piece of my mind. Why did you stop me? Do you think she really means it?’

Lise shushed him and drew him away down the path. ‘Think about it, Morten. It’s just another role-play. We wouldn’t be in this situation if you had done your homework this week and concentrated this evening. It has been going so well up to now. I’m sure all we have to do is revise really hard tonight then concentrate on playing in character tomorrow. The cane and strap are just props – but perhaps they will help you concentrate! Personally, I intend to make sure I get top marks.’

‘But what if she tries to take it too far? I’m not going to let her use a strap on you, and I’m certainly not bending over to take a caning!’

Lise had stopped in the path and looked at him hard. ‘This training has been very successful and is giving us a real career advantage. I don’t want to give it all up – you know what the deal was; we have to obey Sue or go. If it means a few pats on the bottom – well I’m sure it won’t be any worse than a lot of other hard training we’ve gone through. I’m not going to give this up to save your macho pride. If Sue wants to punish me I will decide whether to take it – don’t interfere. And if she decides to punish you I expect you to take it like a man! Remember, if you refuse to do what she says it will end the course for me as well. Come on, let’s get to the revision.’ She had turned and set off at a brisk pace followed by a very perplexed Morten.

As Lise sat outside the cottage nursing her drink and reflecting on what had happened the following day her thoughts were interrupted by more immediate needs. She realised she was leaking milk again and reached across to stroke Morten’s face. ‘I think it’s time for baby’s evening milk and bed,’ she smiled, rising to move inside. She took his hand and led him to the bed. She climbed in and drew him after her, his head and shoulders into her lap. She smiled down at him as she saw his tongue moisten his lips. She tugged gently at the sarong to reveal her full breast and damp erect nipple, holding her breast and stroking the nipple across his lips as he opened his mouth hungrily. Then she let him have it, pressing it between his lips and pulling his head firmly to her breast. As she felt the powerful sucking and his flicking tongue she rocked him gently back and forth making comforting sounds. Her vaginal muscles tightened and spasmed slightly and she felt the wetness between her legs. This time he emptied her completely and responded eagerly as she pushed him down the bed and opened her legs. ‘Now just a little more to do, baby,’ she murmured huskily as she drew his face to her damp pink lips. His tongue flicked quickly around her erect love button and full labia before his lips closed over the button and he sucked gently as she squirmed hard against his face. Her hands pulled his head into her and her movements became rhythmical as her breathing became more rapid. The image in her mind was of Morten’s pink bottom bent over the teacher’s desk, shorts down as Sue brought the strap down again and again and his cheeks jumped at each stroke. She felt the crisis coming and thrust her hips into his eager face in time with the flashing strap in her mental picture. Wave upon wave of pleasure flowed through her as she let out little cries, fading, then returning with increasing intensity until at last she exploded in ecstasy. ‘Ja, ja, ja!’ she moaned as her body thrashed.

The waves slowly ebbed and she eased her hold on his head, releasing him finally as she lay back utterly satisfied, a slow smile spreading over her beautiful face. ‘Come, my precious baby,’ she whispered, drawing him up to lie beside her. His towel had fallen aside and he lay on his back with a straining penis emerging from the curls. She took his hand and placed it on the erection. *Now make pretty fountains for Mummy,’ she whispered and let her hand slip down and play lightly with his balls. As his hand pumped she squeezed a little harder, pressing her sharp nails under his scrotum and in no time at all she was rewarded by the sight of his cream spurting and the sound of his gasps and cries as he came. ‘Good boy, good boy,’ she said softly and kissed him on the lips before turning and dropping off to sleep almost immediately.

***

Lise slept soundly until she was woken by the birds in the early morning. She glanced across at Morten, half hoping he was awake but saw that he was sleeping like a baby. She smiled to herself – after all he had played the role of the baby last night: well, part of the time, anyway.

She turned on her side and thought about their evening. It had been delicious. Wonderful to steal a break from routine and have time to play together undisturbed. Sue had taught them the power of play – how it could refresh, inspire, free them from silly inhibitions and lead them to explore and exploit new experiences. And since first becoming her students they had certainly had some new experiences!

Lise’s mind went back to the morning of their first formal test in the schoolhouse. The evening before, Morten had had difficulty in concentrating on their revision and was still petulant about the thought of submitting to schoolboy discipline from Sue. But he admitted he was largely to blame for their predicament and he was also loathe to give up the career acceleration that was within his grasp as the training began to pay off. Nevertheless Lise had to press him hard and play on his sense of guilt to get him into the uniform in the morning and up the hill to the school on time.

Sue was at the door of the school when they arrived. She had smiled to herself as she watched them walk up the hill and noted the body language – she could see that Lise was the driving force in their submission to her demands. Sue also was dressed more formally than usual, in a mid-length grey skirt and a long-sleeved white blouse buttoned high with a large cameo broach at her throat. ‘Good morning children,’ she had greeted them. ‘Now let me see you in your new uniforms.’ And she looked them up and down carefully, then instructed them to turn round so that she could see the back of their outfits. She was pleased to note that Lise had braided her long hair into neat pigtails in keeping with her uniform. Her eyes swept down over the girl’s straight back, slim waist and long legs. She was very attractive in any role but particularly now as a schoolgirl. The swell of her splendid derrière was disguised by the schoolgirl skirt but Sue could picture it in the regulation white knickers and she savoured for a moment what was to come.

Sue’s attention switched to Morten. There was still a hint of rebellion in his posture, his shoulders set square in a crisp white shirt. Her eyes dropped to his cotton khaki shorts, quite tight around his muscular buttocks but with loose-fitting legs almost meeting the long grey socks. He had not yet managed to drop fully into his juvenile role, she thought to herself but, her eye returning to his pert buttocks, it was just a matter of time and firm encouragement. She smiled to herself as she realised her tongue had slipped forward and she was licking her lips in silent anticipation.

‘Very well,’ she declared. ‘I’m pleased to note how smart you look. I trust your brains are as well prepared as your uniforms. You may play quietly out here until you hear the bell. Then you will come straight in and sit down without any idle chatter.’ She turned and went into the schoolhouse, leaving the door open.

Lise glanced at Morten who looked annoyed at their treatment, but, seeing the expression on her face, reassured her. ‘All right, all right. You don’t have to remind me. I’ll go along with it for your sake as long as you are prepared to. But I don’t have to like it.’ Lise took his hands and looked into his eyes. ‘It’s for both our sakes, Morten. And it’s not just a matter of going along with it. If you are to benefit you have to live the role, that’s the power of the system. Just suspend your macho pride and become a schoolboy for a few hours. See where it leads. We’ve had a lot of fun so far, as well as learning a lot. And I can’t play the role if you are just sulking.’

He grinned sheepishly at her gentle remonstrance. ‘OK. I’ll try. You’re right. It’s been fun so far and I won’t let you down. And as a matter of fact you make a very sexy schoolgirl – how about meeting behind the bicycle shed at break?’

His sudden flirtatious mood was broken by the sound of the bell and, with a final look at each other they headed to the classroom. ‘Good luck with the test,’ she whispered.

They both had butterflies in their stomachs as they took in the classroom scene. The school mistress stood behind her high desk as they entered the room, the strap and the cane still visible. On the two front desks there lay a test paper for each of them.

‘Sit down quickly and quietly. I have placed you at separate desks – there will be no cheating. This is a simple vocabulary test covering 100 words and phrases within the areas we have already covered. You are both fully capable of scoring 100 points and when you do I shall be satisfied and we can move on to more advanced lessons. Until you do we shall repeat the same test following a short revision pause. My rules are simple. On the first test any score of less than 90 will earn an immediate penalty – one stroke of the strap for each point below 90. In addition any score less than 80 will earn a stroke of the cane for each point below that number. If a second test is necessary the score requirement will become higher and you will find the penalties somewhat more humiliating. You have 25 minutes to do the test and five minutes to check your answers. Are you ready?’ Her hand reached for the hourglass as she awaited their response.

Morten looked shell-shocked as he heard Lise say ‘Yes Ma’am.’ He nodded but, seeing the frown on the mistress’s face and feeling the force of Lise’s will beside him he managed to get out a subdued ‘Yes Ma’am’. The hourglass was inverted and they started as the mistress sat at her table and reached for a book.

The first page of questions was easy and they both felt a sense of relief, confident that they were scoring at least close to 100 %. But when Morten reached half way down the second page he started to struggle and on the third and final page they were both frowning and looking worried. As they approached the end the schoolmistress rose from her desk and announced ‘Five minutes to go.’ She walked behind each of them and scanned their final sheets before returning to her desk and declaring ‘Time’.

‘Bring your papers forward and place them on my table. From what I have already seen you have both made silly, unnecessary errors. You will stand in your respective corners while I mark your efforts.’ She indicated the two corners at the front of the classroom and her pupils went to them obediently. They both felt dejected but not surprised. Lise was sure she had dropped below the key 90 score and Morten was fighting a feeling of panic – there were ten questions he had not answered and he knew he had made mistakes as well! They stood and listened to the scratch of the marking pencil and Morten couldn’t resist glancing across at Lise. She looked so forlorn, in her school uniform, face firmly turned to the corner, hands clasped in front of her. His glance switched to the high desk and he looked in awful fascination at the instruments waiting there.
‘You may well look in trepidation Morten. I have just finished marking your paper. But I told you to face the corner. Do so. Put your hands on your head and stop fidgeting.’ Her voice was low but authoritative and he reluctantly raised his hands to his head. His humiliation was increased by Lise witnessing it all. As he waited in helpless silence he just hoped the penalties would be inflicted in private.

His hopes were soon to prove vain. There was a shuffling of papers and an audible sigh from the mistress as she stood up and left her table. ‘As I feared, you have both neglected your revision and we shall have to repeat the test later. I am placing your papers on your desks and you will have one hour for further revision beforehand. That time will start after you have been disciplined for your idleness. Lise, come and stand in front of my table.’

Both their hearts sank. Morten guessed Lise had done better than him as she had been called to the table first. He did not dare turn to look but he could picture poor Lise in front of the table. There was nothing he could do. She had forbidden him from interfering.

‘You are easily capable of scoring full marks Lise but you have failed. Your score was a miserable 84. That means six strokes with the strap. You are to apologise, ask for your punishment and thank me afterwards. Is that clear?’

Lise nodded nervously. ‘Yes Ma’am. I’m… I’m very sorry Ma’am. P..please may I have my punishment?’

‘Very well,’ said the mistress, walking to the desk and picking up the strap. ‘Raise your skirt at the back and tuck it into your waistband. Now bend over and grasp the far side of the table.’ Lise did as instructed. She felt the mistress’s hand on her back, pushing her down onto the table and then arranging the folds of her skirt before travelling lightly across her white cotton knickers. Then there was silence apart from the gentle slap of the strap in the mistress’s hand. Lise held her breath.

So did Morten as he waited for the first sound of the strap on that beloved bottom. He could picture her bent over the table, her full rounded cheeks filling the white cotton, exposed to the mistress and her strap. Suddenly he felt a stirring in his loins and to his astonishment and shame he felt his penis stiffening slightly. Then there was the first thwack of the strap and a stifled gasp from Lise; a pause and the next; then again and again. By the time it was over he was sweating and his shorts were pressed out with his stiffness. There was silence again as he stood in his corner and tried unsuccessfully to will it to subside.

Sue’s hand came down gently on Lise’s bruised bottom, feeling the heat radiated through her knickers, fingertips lightly brushing the red weals not covered by the cotton. They were not raised. She had taken care to restrain herself – there would be time for stricter measures later. She had to resist the urge to cup the lovely cheeks in her hand and spank them a little more ..- Ah! Anticipation! Delights to be savoured by making herself wait. For the moment she could calm herself by dealing with that rebellious boy! –

‘You may thank me and return to your desk, Lise. And resolve to do very much better in your next attempt. Morten – in front of the table. Now!’

Morten looked over his shoulder and saw Lise moving towards her desk. He dropped his hands and moved quickly, slightly bent forward, to reach the table before Lise turned. He faced the mistress, who had returned to the far side of it. Her eyes swept over him, top to toe and to his anguish they paused and returned to the front of his shorts, one eyebrow rising slightly, before returning to look directly at him.

‘Well, well,’ she murmured. ‘Are you eager to be disciplined, Morten?’ The eyebrow remained slightly raised and he was aghast at her apparently misunderstanding the cause of his tumescence. ‘No Ma’am,’ he croaked, his voice breaking slightly. ‘Because disciplined you shall be, my boy. You scored a miserable 74, quite disgraceful. Your wanton idleness earns you 16 strokes with the strap followed by 6 strokes of the cane.’

As the scale of his punishment sank home his erection started to subside and his spirits sank. But he could not let Lise down. He had to accept it.

‘Undo your shorts and drop them to your ankles. Place your feet as far apart as your shorts will allow and your hands on your head. When you are ready you may ask for your punishment.’

As he reached to undo his shorts he was very conscious that Lisa was sitting directly behind him and would have an intimate view of his humiliation. He was also conscious that his softened erection was still obvious in his briefs, particularly as he was forced to raise his hands to his head. He stood there, meeting the mistress’s eyes, then dropping his glance in shame. To his utter consternation he felt the erection beginning inexplicably to stiffen again and he blurted out ‘Please may I have my punishment, Ma’am’, eager to bend forward and hide it.

She waited in silence, coolly looking at the outline of the offending member. At last the silence was broken. ‘Bend over, you idle, disgusting boy.’

He felt the cold leather rest on his bottom and could not help clenching his cheeks. ‘You will receive two sets of eight with the strap after which you will remain in that position and await the cane. You will thank me after each set. Lise, you will count the strokes aloud for us.’

Lise jumped slightly, surprised to be included in the playing out of Morten’s punishment. She had been watching and listening as she also watched and listened to her own feelings. The heat in her bottom had subsided slightly. She had never really been spanked before and her emotions were whirling. The strap had hurt but somehow the act of submission and the glow from the cheeks of her bottom were vaguely exciting. Now, as she realised she was not only going to witness every detail but also take part by counting the strokes, she realised she felt anticipation as well as concern for her lover. He was so vulnerable, bent over with his legs apart, his shoulders and chest pressed onto the table, hands clutching the far side. His thin briefs provided little modesty and would be no protection from the strap. As she saw the leather resting across them, her hand dropped again to touch the heat of her own weals. She stared in fascination as the strap slowly rose and then came whistling down on the underside of both cheeks, making his bottom jump and ripple as a bright red mark formed on the exposed flesh. There was silence then she heard herself announce ’One’ in a slightly strained voice. Down came the strap again; a crack; another ripple of cheeks and a fresh red weal appearing. ‘Two,’ she intoned, her voice stronger.

Sue caught the change in Lise’s voice and saw her gaze transfixed by the sight before her. By the end of the first set her face was slightly flushed, her lips full and moist and her eyes shining. Sue smiled inwardly: she had been right in judging Lise’s potential.

After the first set Morten’s bottom was hot. The first crack of the strap had been a shock, then the shock was less with each stroke but the heat increased. He was allowed only a very short pause before the second set. This time the strap seemed to sting less but by the end of the set his cheeks were burning. His erection had disappeared entirely as his pain and humiliation increased. He did not consciously notice the change in the tone of Lise’s voice but unconsciously he associated the voice he loved with the punishment raining down on his bottom. It was a strange feeling.

After the second set he was allowed a longer pause. ‘Stay in that position, boy, and reflect on your misdemeanours,’ the mistress ordered as she replaced the strap on the desk and took a leisurely sip at her water glass. As she refilled the glass from a jug on the desk the tinkle of the water made him want to pee and he realised he would need to soon. He knew he would not be allowed to escape now – it would be embarrassing to ask. He tried to forget the feeling but somehow the pressure had transferred from the urge to pee into a different direction and he felt his erection returning.

At that moment the mistress put down her glass and picked up the cane, tapping it in her hand, and took position on his flank. ‘Stop slouching boy, get that bottom up in the air! Raise yourself on tiptoe and hold.’ The cane tapped his bottom and, as he raised himself, he felt the tip of the cane travel round his flank and probe the bulge in the front of his briefs. ‘Hm. It seems we still have some disgusting urges to beat out of you, boy. Brace yourself and stay on your toes.’ She withdrew the cane and tapped it on his bottom again, measuring the coming stroke. Then it rose and whistled down. There was a split second of numbness followed by a line of fire across his bottom. ‘One,’ came the breathless count, Whistle – crack – ‘Two’ – relentlessly until ‘Six.’ As she said it Lise was conscious of the dampness in her panties, the heat in her cheeks and the pounding of her heart.

‘Stand up!’ the mistress ordered. She touched the tip of the cane to the front of his briefs. ‘Well, we seem to have dealt with that as well. Good. Now pull up your shorts. I trust you have both learned a valuable lesson. You may have five minutes break before starting to revise again. Outside, both of you.’

It had taken two more tests to satisfy Sue. On the second one Sue had made them take their punishment on their bare bottoms. Lise had received just two strokes of the strap whilst Morten received six, but at least he was spared the cane. Afterwards they were dismissed for the day and they went back to their room with much to think about. Lise had insisted on checking his injuries and he hers. As soon as she touched his red burning bottom his erection returned with new vigour and they made furious love. For the first time she found herself slapping his bottom to urge him on as they both erupted in an intense climax.

As she lay there thinking about those early days on the island she noticed the sun was getting higher and her breasts were getting heavier. She pulled off the duvet, slapped Morten’s rump and dragged him out of bed. They swam and returned to the cottage so that he could relieve the pressure in her swollen breasts. She had been so disappointed when Joe arrived with the message and Morten had to go. Of course it had been fun to introduce sweet naïve Joe to the pleasures of the breast, and so easily to induce the little mess in his shorts! Then he had returned at lunchtime with the message that Morten would probably be away for a month. He had arranged a boat to pick her up. What a bore! In her practical way she had Joe help with her milk but did not allow him to mess his shorts again – not twice in the same day - she had said - and she had gone home. Well, at least her mother had offered to stay and help while Morten was away.

When she rang and mentioned it to Sue, Sue was delighted. She had explained that she was reopening the school to improve Joe’s Danish and she really needed help with the role-plays. Lise had promised to come over a few times starting the next day. It would be fun to be back in Sue’s school again – it was always stimulating. And it seemed there were some new twists to the role-plays. She was still puzzling over the list of things she had to bring for Joe. She could guess what the carpet beater and the nappies were for – but why tampons?

***

Chapter 2: School

Sue had been busy for a few days, apparently arranging the start of summer school, and Auntie had kept Joe busy. She had structured his day with kitchen and serving duties, at least one brisk walk a day but usually two, a limited period of writing and some physical work either in the garden or the workshop. He had also been studying Danish vocabulary for the first ‘scenarios’ as Sue called them. He lived the simple life, usually wearing just shorts made from cut-down cotton trousers. He was not allowed pants because Auntie thought it healthy for the sea air to be able to circulate freely; this could be a bit embarrassing because Auntie had cut the shorts quite short and the legs were quite wide. Once when Sue had been sitting opposite him she had told him sharply, ‘Close your legs, Joe. There is no need to make such a display of yourself.’ He had blushed bright red and done as he was told. But generally he had settled well and enjoyed his routine.

There had been one or two ominous moments. Auntie had mentioned that she had made her hand sore holding her sandal last time she spanked him with it. She had produced a brand new pair of flat leather sandals with quite heavy black rubber soles and little decorated straps. ‘This is a good task for your physical work today, Joe. Take one of these and trim off the straps. Find something to use as a handle and attach it to the heel. I want it to be firmly attached at the heel but allow the sole to flex properly. Make sure the handle is nice and smooth. Next time I want the blisters to be on your bottom, not my hand.’

Joe had made a good job of it (from Auntie’s point of view!). When he tested the new spanker on his palm it left a sharp sting. He was not looking forward to feeling it on his bottom! He had drilled out holes where the toe straps had been joined to the sole and smoothed off all the edges. At least it should not cut unless Auntie got very cross with him. But the handle certainly made it easier to swing it hard. Auntie had looked very pleased when he gave it to her. She slapped her palm a couple of times and smiled at him. ‘Well done Joe. I think we shall have to plan some more craft projects for you. I wonder if we can get some leather plaiting kit from the mainland…’

School was due to start at 2.00 pm the next day and he was sent up to iron his uniform again. He was to wear a white shirt, khaki shorts and long grey socks. He was allowed school regulation white briefs so at least he would be saved from the risk of embarrassment when Lise was there. Ah Lise! He was so looking forward to seeing her again.

Their first meetings were delicious memories, even if she had not repeated her initial game of massaging the tip of his little stiffy with the inside of her wrist. He had a mental image of her full white breast and erect dark nipple brushing against his lips, drops of milk already falling onto his tongue as she pulled his face into her bosom and he started to suckle. His nostrils had sometimes been pulled so hard into the silky white breast that he had to stop sucking to gasp for air.

As he thought about it his little willy sprang up stiff yet again. He tried hard not to rub it. He planned to save himself in case Lise wanted to see how much she excited him next day…Surely they would be given a break or something? And she was going to spend most of the day away from home so perhaps there was just the tiniest chance that she would want help with expelling surplus milk? The thought was too much for him; his hand went down to the front of his shorts and with the picture of that deep brown nipple pulsating in his head he pressed against the front of the rebellious member, up and down, round in circles, creating friction in the cotton until with a groan he felt the heat of the rising cream and the throbbing cock, spurting, spurting, gushing his innermost juices against the inside of the shorts until his loins were spent and his hand and shorts were wet and sticky with his come. He felt a trickle run down the inside of his thigh as he felt the shame of his failure to wait for Lise.

He slumped back in a chair for a moment but then, frightened that Auntie would walk in and discover his disgrace, he stripped off and dove into the shower, his shorts in his hand. He washed the shorts and then himself, standing for a long time and letting the stinging hot needles of the shower cleanse his body as in his imagination he begged Lise for forgiveness. In bed he lay thinking through his Danish, but the busy day, the copious creaming and images of Lise carried him into a deep and restful sleep.

The next morning he served breakfast to Aunt Sarah as usual. Sue came down a little late and walked past the table to the dresser. Carefully she selected a banana from the fruit dish and turned towards Joe. ‘I think I have solved the problem of Joe’s temporary shortage of humility plugs.’ Both Joe and Aunt Sarah looked up. Sue peeled the upper part of the banana slowly and pressed it between her lips. Joe’s jaw dropped. Had Sue been monitoring his visits to GovernessX and his chats with Annabella?

Sue swept around the table behind Joe and stretched her hand over his shoulder. ‘There!’ she said, opening her fingers and letting a small cylindrical package drop onto the table beside his plate. His first reaction was relief as he recognised the tampon packaging. Perhaps the symbolism of the banana had been entirely fortuitous. But you could be sure of nothing with Sue…

‘I was clearing out the guest bedroom upstairs for Lise. She may not stay overnight but she will need a space for her role-play things and somewhere to relax and change. One of my previous students obviously failed to check her drawers and left this behind. It will fill a gap, so to speak, until Lise arrives with reinforcements.’ Auntie smiled, delighted, and looked across at Joe. ‘How lucky for you, Joe. Now you can be properly turned out when Lise comes. Clear away the breakfast things then pop along and give yourself a quick rinse. You can wear it when we go for our walk. Off you go!’

Auntie’s term ‘quick rinse’ was a straightforward instruction to Joe to give himself an enema. He no longer blushed in front of Sue about his enemas – after all, she had witnessed them several times and humiliation starts to lose its impact. But nevertheless there was a blush. It was much more to do with the mention of Lise and being properly turned out for her. He just hoped Aunty would not embarrass him in front of the lovely object of his dreams.

He quickly cleared the table and the kitchen, leaving everything ready for supper. Lunch before school would be frugal but supper would be special because Lise was staying at least for that. He had planned this carefully, hoping to impress her. He had peeled large prawns and coated them lightly in Danish mayonnaise and sweet Thai chilli sauce; he had washed and spun dry a variety of leaf salads and spring onions, packing them carefully into plastic bags and chilling them; he had prepared potato salad with freshly seasoned garlic olive oil, mayonnaise and sour cream; there was Norwegian smoked and dill-cured salmon with a mustardy sauce. And there was heavy rye bread, light French baguettes to be baked and served hot and sesame seed light rye bread. He had asked Auntie about wine and she had agreed that he could serve a light white wine but made it quite clear that he was to restrict himself to water.

Once he was satisfied that all was ready for lunch and supper his mind returned to immediate things. Reaching into his pocket he felt the paper cylinder. He headed for the bathroom and took out the tubing and bag for the enema, filling the bag directly from the tap and hanging it up on the shower rail. He placed the vaseline pot on the table beside him and fitted the spout to the tube. This was the worst moment because he was not allowed to lock the bathroom door. Auntie or Sue could breeze in at any moment, just as he was pushing the spout into position. On one occasion Sue had come in at this juncture and stayed to watch until he was finished. She had teased him about pushing the spout in and out and asked if he needed help or if he was just enjoying himself. Thank heavens on this occasion he was left to deal with it in privacy. He hurried, rinsing himself twice and probably not waiting long enough to drain out. He had dispensed with using the applicator – it was important to put vaseline on the tampon itself and press it far up into his bottom, checking that the little white string was hanging clear.

He pulled up his shorts and as he was rinsing his hands Auntie opened the door to ask how long he was going to be. ‘Ready now, Auntie,’ he called, turning and hurrying after her to the door.

Their usual morning walk led up onto the cliff-top path, past the guest cottages and round the point before heading back past the school. Auntie strode out purposely and Joe followed dutifully behind her. On this occasion they had not gone far before Joe began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. Usually he hardly noticed the tampon in his nether regions – they had all too recently accommodated a larger item! But usually he was very careful to ensure that it was well covered in vaseline. He must have been too hasty this morning and left part of the tampon dry because almost as soon as he started walking it started irritating the delicate membranes of his botty hole. He started squirming and tensing his bottom but whatever he did the irritation got worse. He was dawdling and trying surreptitiously to reach up into his shorts and jerk the string to move the tampon into a more comfortable position. He did not succeed and he started to feel a desperate need to evacuate. By the time they reached the cottage that Emma and Morten had used Auntie had noticed his peculiar behaviour.

‘For heavens sake boy! Come along and walk in front of me or we’ll never get there!’ she ordered him in exasperation.

‘Please Auntie, I think I need to do a poo,’ Joe replied miserably, but hurrying up to pass in front of her. She followed him, shaking her head at his antics and hurrying him along. ‘Control yourself until we get back. You don’t want to be late with Lise coming for lunch – and you most certainly don’t want to be late for school,’ she remonstrated.

Joe pushed ahead in determination until he came to a crossing in a stone wall. He would have to stretch his legs up to reach the steps and then squat down to duck under a bar before jumping to the ground. He had done it many times before without incident but now his insides were gurgling alarmingly either with enema fluids or wind blocked by the tampon – probably both. He managed the stretch up but with the pressure in his gut as he squatted there was a thunderous explosion of wind and water in his shorts and as he jumped down the other side of the wall the tampon slid down his leg and came to rest in between his feet. His inner thighs ran with brownish water and the bottom of his shorts was saturated. He stood there in utter misery and shame as the cascade down his legs abated.

‘Heavens Joe! What on earth? How disgusting! Run straight down to the sea and wash yourself off you dirty little boy. And dispose of that!’ Auntie cried – pointing at the offending tampon.

He rushed to the haven of the cleansing waves, scrubbed himself vigorously and emerged to chase after the fast-disappearing figure of Auntie.

When he reached the main house she was waiting outside the kitchen door. She made him go to an outhouse to rinse himself and his shorts again. When he came back wearing the shorts she gave him another rinse with a hose, made him take off the shorts and hang them and then made him bend over with his legs apart while she hosed off his exposed bottom. The pressure of the water on his botty hole was almost like another enema. Finally he was allowed to dry himself and go into the kitchen.

Aunty gave him a blue apron with big white polka dots. ‘Put this on and get on with lunch. You can’t put on your uniform and spoil that before you even start school and I’m not having you soil another outfit. You can serve lunch in your apron.’

Joe was shell-shocked. He had thought he had everything under control – his uniform ready, a simple lunch and a delightful supper ready. All he had to do was impress Lise with his efforts at school… Now he was humiliated, undressed, aproned, distraught. He rushed to get things ready. Before he could achieve that he heard Sue welcoming Lise at the door and taking her upstairs to the guest room to lay out her things. Shortly afterwards the bell rang summoning hin to the dining room. He contemplated going to his room first and putting on his school shorts but decided it just would not be worth the punishment he would surely incur.

He braced himself, pulled the apron as far round him as he could and knocked on the dining room door. Three heads turned to watch him come in. ‘Hallo Joe,’ smiled Lise. He was carrying a tray of water glasses with a jug of water and managed to serve each of them without turning his back on anyone. As he stood beside Lise she grinned and popped a little parcel onto the tray. ‘Aunt Sarah said you wanted these, Joe. She has told me about your handicrafts and I’m very impressed, but I can’t think how you will use these.’ There was a teasing tone in her voice and Joe blushed, mumbled his thanks and started backing towards the door. ‘Say thank you properly Joe, don’t mumble. And you know what to do,’ she said, giving a meaningful look at the package.’

Lise smiled at him as she watched him back out of the room. How charming it was when he blushed. She loved to tease and the sight of his red face was a delightful reward. She glanced at Aunt Sarah and Sue, who were also smiling and shaking their heads. Aunt Sarah had shown Lise her new spanker and promised to let her borrow it when Morten came home. Lise had giggled and thanked her, slapping her hand with it, impressed by the sting.

Joe served lunch and again managed to avoid turning his back on anyone. He had obeyed Auntie’s unspoken order and inserted a fresh tampon, the string dangling out of his botty hole. Each time he entered the dining room he checked to make sure the string was hidden between his cheeks. Lise had noticed his strange way of backing out of the room and had given Aunt Sarah an enquiring look. ‘My dear, he is trying to hide the sight of his botty from you – he had an accident this morning and his shorts are hanging on the line to dry. Just ignore it. Perhaps we’ll have a little fun over coffee.’ Lise had to exercise the utmost control not to laugh aloud at Joe’s antics during the rest of lunch. When they had finished Auntie told him to serve coffee in the sitting room.

Sue decided to skip coffee and go up to the school. ‘Don’t be late, young lady, you are subject to the rules as well, remember.’ The tone of Sue’s voice and the import of her words sent a little shiver through her. She loved controlling and teasing Morten and she was enjoying the effect she was having on Joe. But there was still a little area of her psyche that reacted to Sue’s authority in an erotic way.

Aunt Sarah sat in an armchair and placed Lise directly opposite. She rang the bell and Joe came in carrying the coffee, once again managing to serve them without turning his back. As he started backing towards the door both women started giggling. He stopped and looked at them, slowly reddening. ‘Enough of this nonsense, Joe,’ said Aunt Sarah, stifling her mirth.

‘Lise, shut your eyes and keep them closed. Joe, come here.’ She pointed at the floor directly in front of her chair. Joe silently shook his head in panic, mouthing ‘please no, please no’ to Auntie. But she was adamant, pointing at the spot in front of her. Very reluctantly he followed her pointing finger and moved in front of her. Lise sat back in the armchair, her eyes closed and her hands over them in a delightfully childish way.

‘Now Joe, feet apart and bend forward. I want your head in my lap and your back arched. That’s it – feet apart a bit more, bend your knees a little and put that naughty botty high in the air.’ She pressed his face into her lap and pushed on his back to make him arch it more.

‘You don’t want to keep little secrets from Lise, do you? Especially after she has gone to the trouble of shopping for you. You can open your eyes Lise,’ and she held Joe firmly in position.

Lise shrieked with laughter at the sight that met her eyes. ‘Oh Joe, what a sight!’ she cried, reaching out and tugging gently at the string. ‘Aunt Sarah told me you were paying homage to your internet governess in a special way, but I never thought…’ She stroked his bottom gently. ‘Never mind, your secret is safe with me. Now hurry up – we only have 10 minutes to get into uniform and up to school.’ And she slapped the rump under her hand to send him on his way as Aunt Sarah released him.

***

Auntie had been busy all week but over the weekend she decided to concentrate on Joe! She decided to take his training a stage further and then she would make him tell all his friends at GX about it – and show them pictures!

She had been shopping and told Joe she had a couple of little surprises for him when she came back. He had been busy as well, what with school and everything. ‘I’m having to do lots of homework, Auntie, but Sue and Lise have been so helpful and we are making lots of progress. We have had two sessions of role play and they say my Danish is improving a lot. It’s lovely role playing with Lise – she is so clever at switching into any role that Sue gives her, then improvising the dialogue. They say they have started off gently but next week it’s going to be tougher.’

In fact Sue had told Joe he would need ‘lots of self discipline’ to handle it. ‘But never fear, because I am confident Lise and I will be able to find a way to help if your self discipline falters…’ She gave him a meaningful look and Lise added ‘Of course…’ with a quick knowing smile in Sue’s direction. Joe had a nasty feeling that Sue was planning some new humiliation for him. - Why do Auntie and Sue seem intent on shaming me in front of Lise? – he thought.

‘Joe, you have been so busy with Sue and Lise this week you seem to be forgetting your other tasks.’

Auntie had inspected the kitchen when she came back and was not very pleased. ‘But Auntie …’ he started. ‘No ‘But Aunties’ from you my boy. There is no excuse for idleness. I think we had better take a look at your bedroom.’

Joe’s heart sank. He had been late getting up that morning and his bed was unmade. Worse, the reason he was late was that he had been dreaming about Lise breast feeding him. He had woken up with his little willy standing stiffly to attention and could not resist the rubbing it and tickling his little balls. Then he had taken out the Danish magazine he had found in one of the outhouses. There were some very naughty pictures. There was one of a girl who could have been Lise, bent over a table with her hands holding her bottom cheeks apart. A man stood behind her, pressing the tip of his oiled erection into the little puckered botty hole and Joe couldn’t take his eyes from the scene until his pumping hand sent a fountain of cream all over his tummy, splashing the magazine.

Suddenly he realised how late it was and he quickly wiped the magazine and himself with a handkerchief and stuffed both of them under his pillow before dragging on his clothes and rushing off.

‘I thought as much,’ said Auntie. ‘This room is a mess and you haven’t even made your bed.’ She walked straight across to his bed and threw back the duvet. ‘Open the window and hang this out to air,’ she told him. As he moved to obey he saw her other hand reach for the pillow and he froze. As if in slow motion he watched her lift the pillow. His dirty handkerchief and the magazine were raised with it, stuck at first to its underside. The magazine then fell back onto the sheet and the handkerchief dangled from the pillow. Aunt Sarah dropped the pillow forward onto the bed and with the tips of her fingers took hold of the corner of the handkerchief, lifting it slowly from the pillow and examining it. Then she turned her attention to the magazine, which lay open at the page that had so entranced Joe earlier. Part of the picture had ripped and still adhered to the pillow but the central image stared up at them - the oiled erection pressing against the opening between the spread cheeks.

There was an excruciating silence as Joe cringed inside with shame and fear and Aunt Sarah silently inspected the items in her hands. Turning to him she held the evidence of his shame in front of his face. He could smell the scent of his cream in the handkerchief. He hung his head, unable to meet her eyes.

‘Well Joe,’ Auntie began, her voice unexpectedly soft and low. ‘This image of botty play clearly excites you. The evidence could hardly be plainer. Look at me!’ As he lifted his eyes she brushed the still damp cotton against his mouth and nostrils. ‘I can see we shall have a busy weekend. Perhaps we shall explore your evident predilections a little further…’

‘But I think that must wait – for a while. First we shall have to deal with your neglect of your everyday duties while I was away. Your ill-discipline must be corrected before we approach more complex matters.’ She looked at her watch. ‘You have ten minutes to tidy this mess. You will then go to the kitchen, clean up thoroughly by eleven o’clock and then stand in the corner and wait for me.’ She glanced around the room as she spoke, picked up a plastic shopping bag and dropped her ‘evidence’ into it. Without another word she left.

***

Joe had raced to tidy the bedroom as best he could in ten minutes. There was nothing he could do about the pillow except peel off the scrap of magazine and turn the soiled side downwards. Then he raced to the kitchen and set to work. He cleared everything immaculately, hung up the rag rugs on the line outside while he washed the floor then looked for the carpet beater to do the rugs as the last chore. He remembered the old beater was broken and Lise had brought a new one out with her for Auntie. He blushed as he remembered the embarrassment of being forced to serve lunch wearing just his blue polka dot apron and a hidden tampon. He thought he had got away with it, then Auntie had made him turn and display his humiliation to Lise.

He could not find the new carpet beater and time was up so he went to the designated ‘shame corner’ and stood with his nose pressed to the wall. Aunt Sarah made him wait but eventually he heard her steps in the hall and the door opened. He stood erect and kept his nose turned to the corner as he heard cupboards open and close and her footsteps as she checked his work.

‘The kitchen looks considerably better, Joe. It just shows what you can do if you put your mind to it. I note you have not replaced the rugs, no doubt because you could not find this,’ and the head of the new carpet beater appeared against the wall beside his face.

‘I have always believed that punishment should fit the crime so I have decided that your neglect here provides an opportunity for you to receive a reminder of the merits of the carpet beater. Go and face the kitchen table, drop your shorts and bend over.’

Joe did as he was told, reassuring himself that it would not be too bad to be beaten with the carpet beater. - It might sting a bit but it can’t be as bad as the spanker I made – he thought.
He dropped his shorts, bent over and gripped the far edge of the table and pushed his bottom up in the way Auntie always liked.

The swish of the carpet beater was loud but the first blow was light and diffuse compared to the spanker. - This is going to be easy – he thought. And he was not far wrong. Auntie beat him for at least ten minutes but his bottom was glowing rather than on fire. Of course he knew there could be worse to come.

‘Let that be a gentle reminder of your kitchen duties, my boy. I think the next priority is the bathroom.

Firstly I intend to take some pictures later and somehow I find the hairs on your bottom look out of place and messy. You are to ensure that your botty is clean shaven, not forgetting in between the cheeks and round your botty hole, as well as under your scrotum. In future you are to keep it like that. For the moment you may retain the curls at the front – they provide a good hiding place for that little willy of yours. Make a good job of it – I shall inspect it and I shall not be pleased if I have to redo the job myself.

You will give yourself a thorough rinse, inside and out and call me when you have finished. Refill the bag before you call me because I want to see that you are thoroughly clean on the last flush.’

Joe groaned inwardly at the thought of having to demonstrate to Auntie that he was thoroughly clean, but he was getting used to giving himself enemas and with repetition it was becoming less embarrassing. He even rather enjoyed the feeling of being thoroughly cleansed. He was nervous about shaving himself but he realised it would be easier to keep everything nice and fresh and clean. The shaving brush tickled but he stood astride a mirror and thought it had gone quite well.

When he was sure he was clean he filled the bag with a fresh half litre of fluid and went to the door to call Aunt Sarah. ‘I’m ready Auntie,’ he called, and returned to the lavatory seat to wait. - So far, so good, - he thought.

The bathroom door opened and Auntie came in holding up his first surprise from her shopping trip – an old fashioned blue enamel potty! ‘Here we are Joe! This is especially for you. Now bend over and let me see how well you have shaved.’ She pulled his cheeks apart and her hand travelled down wards as she inspected.

‘Well done – that’s much better. Now fill yourself up with the final rinse and hold it until I tell you to come to the potty and release it. It’s probably best for you to practice with fresh water before I allow you to use your potty for messier business. Now come along, pop that spout in and get on with it.’ Saying which she spread what looked like an absorbent mat on the floor and placed the potty in the middle of it.

As he pushed the spout into his bottom and opened the water valve he surveyed the tiny pot and wondered how on earth he was going to empty himself into it. He glanced up at Auntie and was horrified to see her sit down on a low chair opposite the potty and start focusing a movie camera on it! He saw the bag was empty and he removed the nozzle, careful to retain every drop until Auntie told him to release it.

Once she was satisfied with the camera she looked up. ‘Now, are you sure this will be nice clean water?’ she asked. ‘Yes Auntie…I think so.’

She made him wait for a few moments before telling him to position himself over the pot and to retain the fluid until she was satisfied he was in position. He moved carefully, feeling some pressure and gurgling as he rose and moved, but he managed to kneel astride the pot and adjusted it to collect the enema. – I don’t know what will happen if she makes me use this potty as a potty – it’s not big enough to wee and poo at the same time – he thought.

Auntie held the camera low and gave him permission to release. The rush of water mostly went into the potty and – thankfully – was clean. He felt so ridiculous holding his big botty over the little blue bowl.

‘Wonderful! Wonderful!’ Auntie laughed out loud. ‘Well done Joe – now we know you are nice and clean inside. But I think you may need more practice with the potty – you have splashed a bit,’ she giggled. In a minute you can clean up in here and give it a good airing.’ She wrinkled her nose slightly, walked round to look at his face and stopped smiling.

‘I regret the next stage today is going to be more painful than I had planned. I was looking forward to giving your hand crafted spanker a gentle trial just to warm up your botty and help you concentrate on training later. That is more fun than having to inflict punishment. But I’m afraid you have forced my hand. Your idleness is one thing; even your failure to control yourself, masturbating without my permission and supervision and soiling your bed linen could have been corrected by the spanker I do believe; but your lack of respect for ladies evidenced by the picture you chose to drool over is quite beyond the bounds and must be dealt with strictly. You understand that don’t you?’

‘Yes Auntie,’ he half-whispered, hanging his head. He wondered what on earth the ‘training’ was going to be about.

‘How do you think I should correct your naughtiness, Joe?’ she demanded. The options flashed through his mind. If the spanker was not enough he knew it was probably going to be the cane. If he suggested too mild a punishment he knew it would just exasperate her. At best it would be doubled but at worst it could also be dragged out over time. She was getting impatient for his answer.

‘Please Auntie. I suppose I deserve to be caned. Please Auntie, six of the best on my bare bottom and early bed tonight,’ he gabbled, hoping he had not under-pitched it.

He had. Aunt Sarah looked very unimpressed. ‘It seems clear to me that you underestimate how seriously I view disrespect, Joe. You are right that you deserve at least the cane but six would have barely warmed your rump let alone taught you a lesson. As for early bed, I trust you are not planning an early repeat of your little willy-wanking session?’

‘No, no, oh, please Auntie. I can see it was very disrespectful and I am very sorry. I wouldn’t do it again…’ As she watched in silence, her eyebrow arched, he realised it was best to keep quiet and wait to find out his fate.

‘As it happens, I selected a new item to have in reserve should I need to be stricter with you. I am disappointed to have to introduce you to it so soon but I know my duty. Clean up in here and then go to your room. You will find a box outside your door that contains a small flat-pack workbench. You are to assemble it and place it by the wall in your room. I bought it for your training but it will also serve well for your punishment. Cover it with two large towels and the bed cover you will find on your bed. When that is done inform me and return to your room. You will then mount astride the bench, bottom at one end, head at the other, chest on the bench, legs bent and feet on the cross struts. Not unlike a naughty boy grasping the neck of a runaway horse, hanging on in fear. You will stay in that position until I come. Now, be sharp about it.’

She turned on her heel and left him kneeling over the potty, his wet bottom still dripping the last few drops into the potty.

***

When fear of the future struck, Joe knew it was best to get on with practical things. He knew Auntie had his welfare at heart and he was ultimately safe with her, even if she could be very strict. Of course she was cross about his silly naughtiness with the magazine and he would have to accept and thank her for his punishment. He was nervous – he had been given a serious caning several times over the years and it hurt – even if the afterglow reminded him of the love with which it had been delivered. In fact as the pain receded and the heat in his bottom cheeks lingered it had often given him a lot of excitement…

He was quick to sort out the bathroom and went to find the bench. Best not to upset Auntie by dawdling. He was surprised to find the bench was a local version of something like a ‘workbench’ at home, Of course it was made in China but it had exactly the same system – like a sawhorse but with the top formed by two boards linked by two screw clamps. The boards could be used as a clamp to hold a work item on top of the bench…or some other item, he thought as he assembled it. He realised with a slight shudder that it was at the perfect height for him to bend over and present his botty. He even tried it to confirm his fears!

Gingerly he tried climbing up on it as Auntie had described. It seemed to hold his weight without any problem but when he raised his feet onto the cross supports he realised it had the effect of spreading his thighs and bottom cheeks. He was still naked and felt very exposed…

Even worse, as he wriggled to try to get comfortable on top of the bare bench, his little willy and his balls dropped between the clamping boards. Of course he was in control and there was no danger but he suddenly realised that it would only take a turn or to on the clamps to hold him very securely in position! In fact it would only take a few turns more to do him serious damage! He prayed that Auntie had not noted that potential! But why the bench? Did she have more craft projects in mind?

He determined that when he was made to mount the bench (he knew this was inevitable) he would do so in such a way that his vital parts were clear of the clamp-grip of the top boards. He practiced it quickly. The only drawback was that it exposed those sensitive dangly bits to whatever might be striking his botty! – is this what they call ‘between the devil and the deep blue’?!! he was soon to find out…

He covered the bench with towels and then picked up the special absorbent sheet from the bed. It was clearly a cover to protect a mattress from incontinence – like the one Auntie had put under the potty in the bathroom. She had obviously laid up a supply. He spread the sheet neatly over the bench, did a final check and went to tell Aunt Sarah all was ready. The house was quiet – at least Sue and Lise were busy elsewhere and there were no other witnesses to his discomfort. He knocked at the sitting room door.

‘Come in,’ Auntie responded. She was sitting watching some sort of dressage event on TV. He took a pace into the sitting room. ‘The bench is ready Auntie,’ he said diffidently. A fine horse was being put through his paces on the large screen. Auntie watched intently as the pretty rider controlled the horse to perfection. She carried a short whip but Joe noticed that she never struck the stallion. Occasionally the whip touched its flank – perhaps a slight flick, but never a blow.

‘Perfection,’ breathed Aunt Sarah. She turned her attention to Joe. ‘Of course it takes a great deal of training to reach that level of teamwork, Joe. The top horses are so intelligent it’s barely necessary to show them the whip, let alone beat them. Sadly it doesn’t seem to be the same with naughty boys. Training, training, training Joe. And yours is just beginning.’

She rose and went to the side table. She picked up the riding whip that lay there. Joe had not noticed it, but now he saw it was brand new. About 30 inches long, it had a wrist strap and a silver pommel at one end and tapered to a thin cane with a short leather loop at the other. As she flexed it in her hands he saw it was bound in what looked like silk plaiting. It was springy but obviously firm. It whistled when Aunty flicked it in the air and it cracked when she brought the end down, apparently gently, on her palm.

‘The time has come for sterner measures than the cane, Joe. I sincerely hope it will not be necessary to whip you often. But whipped you shall be if you deserve it – as you do now. Go to your room and adopt the position I described, astride the bench. Wait for me and while you wait reflect on your behaviour!

***

We shall not dwell on what ensued. Aunt Sarah found it a painful experience – she really did not enjoy inflicting intense pain. Joe found it a painful experience – but at least the whipping on his bottom caused only superficial injury. He was sore for days and there were bruises, but no cuts. He learned a new respect for women, for Aunt Sarah…and for the dressage whip. But, although the odd inaccurate flick of the whip had landed on his most sensitive parts, causing a howl of pain, there was no lasting injury.

The offending page of the magazine was placed on the bench in front of his eyes. The soiled handkerchief was balled and placed in his mouth. Auntie started with fast light taps until she was accustomed to the whip – even they stung. Then she paused, there was a brief whistle, a crack - and a line of fire across the centre of his bottom. He lost count early on and it seemed Aunty had no intention of counting. She varied the pace and the vigour but the stinging was relentless. When she tired she rested, running the tip of the whip down the cleft of his bottom, flicking his willy with the little leather loop. Once or twice he felt the cold metal pommel in the centre of his bottom, slight pressure at his botty hole as if to remind him of his exposure. Then she would return to whipping him with renewed energy. His sobs became more pitiful and agonised, until he was begging her to forgive him. At last it was over. No single stroke had injured him but his bottom would be on fire for hours. Here is just a glimpse of how it was.

Having exhausted either her arm or her ire Aunt Sarah finally relented and laid the whip aside. She put her arm over his shoulders and rocked him slightly, hushing his sobs. ‘It is only for your own good,’ she said quietly, ‘One day you will thank me.’

‘I know Auntie, I know. I was so naughty. Thank you, thank you,’ he sobbed.

Having stilled his sobs, Auntie removed the magazine and almost ceremonially disposed of it in the waste paper bin. She then extracted the handkerchief and dropped it on his bed, still holding him close. ‘Now your punishment is over Joe. It is important that you put both your offence and your punishment behind you.’

- I won’t find it difficult to remember that the punishment is behind me – he thought ruefully. – I think what is behind me will remind me for a while to come – ouch!

***

‘And now we can proceed with the next stage of your training, Joe.’ But first you may get up and stand in the corner again.’ Once he was stood in the corner she started doing something with the bench but she continued speaking.

‘Reflect on your naughtiness and disrespect; you may consider the implications of the picture you found so exciting. In a strange way it was appropriate for the next part of your training. I wonder if when you looked at that picture it put you in mind of the recent intrusions into your own bottom? You said you found them humiliating – as I intended. You are still flawed by little outbursts of some sort of adolescent male chauvinism and humiliating you through invasion of your botty hole serves a purpose in overcoming that. It is also going to serve another purpose.’

‘You were telling me how much you are enjoying the role play at school and how well it is going. That’s good. You will appreciate that running the school has to be financed and is a great deal of work for Sue. Because of our friendship she has refused to charge fees for your schooling and so I have said we make whatever practical contribution we can. Sue is happy to accept that – indeed she has resourced for your lessons on a similar basis. She did not accept fees from Lise and so Lise is helping with your role plays to repay her generosity.’

‘But obviously she cannot run a school entirely on voluntary contributions. To finance it she needs paying students and she runs a variety of courses. You are going to help her with one later in the month. It is a very special and exclusive course in which she helps ladies to develop their techniques for controlling the male or males in their life. As well as theory lessons the course includes both demonstrations and role play and it is with these you will be helping.’

Joe felt a mixture of curiosity, excitement, foreboding and nervousness. – What ‘demonstrations’ could he help with? Were his acting abilities good enough?

‘I’m sure you will be pleased to know that you will be working with the lovely Lise.’

Joe brightened immediately. The prospect of working with Lise calmed his nerves immediately and excited him.

‘But first we must start your physical training in earnest, Joe. Which brings me back to…’

Alarmed, Joe heard the distinctive sound of the horsewhip as Auntie slapped her leg with it and stepped towards him. He tensed and buried himself in the corner but no blow descended. Instead he felt the cold metal pommel slowly tracing a line down his back, between the cheeks of his bottom and coming to rest against his tightly clenched sphincter.

‘…here.’ The metal pushed against him, probing and prodding. ‘You must learn to relax this area, Joe. You have started learning with the botty stopper but now we are going to take it a stage further. You seemed quite keen on the idea of a cock penetrating a botty hole.’

Joe stiffened in panic.

‘It’s alright Joe, I don’t mean a man’s cock, oh no! But you are going to learn what it is like to have your botty invaded in that way. You are going to learn to accept the role of a humiliated husband turned into a sissy slut and to offer your bottom eagerly to receive a lady’s toy.’

The metal pommel pressed harder against him in a slow rhythm as the import of what she was saying sank in. His emotions were a maelstrom as he felt the pommel behind him and felt the slight stirrings of arousal in front of him.

‘But I mustn’t rush ahead to the exciting bit, Joe. This is a role for which you will train hard, starting today. You may turn round.’

Joe turned and looked past Aunt Sarah at the bench on which he had just had such a hard ride. It was once again covered with the mat but protruding from this was a lifelike representation of a large erect phallus. The contours of the circumcised erection were detailed and realistic and it was wearing a lubricated condom that was stretched tight to cover it. The bench clamps held it at an angle and he stared in fascination. The instrument was not only thicker than the botty plug but also much longer and he could not believe that he would be able to accommodate it.

‘There, Joe it’s really rather good isn’t it. I’m sorry if it makes you feel inadequate but you can see why you are better cut out for the role of the sissy…’ and she flicked his little half-stiff willy with the tip of the whip making him wince.

‘You may apply a little of this to your lover’s weapon, Joe, and I suggest you apply some to your sissy hole as well. Then you can mount up for a new sort of ride.’ She handed him a small tin of vaseline and turned to adjust her camera on its tripod, the whip dangling from her wrist.

Joe obeyed, even more aghast as he applied the lubricant to the big erection. He knew he could refuse and walk away but he would have to leave, cope on his own and never return. He wanted so much to stay. Carefully took a big fingertip of vaseline and applied it to his botty as Auntie watched, an approving smile on her face.

‘Now, up you go Joe. Take your time and don’t be frightened. It may be a little difficult at first but you will end up liking it I’m sure. Up you go!’ Her voice was more insistent.

He climbed astride the bench and positioned himself above the instrument of his sissification, a tremor of fear as he brushed the rigid phallus with the inside of his thigh. Very slowly and carefully he presented his botty hole to its tip, reaching behind with one hand to guide it. He lowered himself a fraction and felt the tip press against his hole. It was hard and slippery and pushed just a tiny bit into him. He held it there, bringing his hands forward and bending slightly. His legs shook a little as he lowered himself a fraction more, then perhaps an inch. His hole stretched to accommodate the monster but its tip met firm resistance and he stopped.

‘It’s too big Auntie, too big. I can’t, I can’t,’ he almost sobbed. She left the camera on the tripod and moved to one side, her hand reaching down and grasping the whip that swung from her wrist.

‘Patience, Joe, patience,’ she said softly. ‘Of course you can or I would not let you try. Just relax your botty and let your weight ease it down. Once it’s in you will get used to it and it won’t hurt.’ She reached forward and stroked his bottom with the whip gently.

Her reassurance helped. The botty plug had hurt on the way in but he had soon got used to it. He let pushed out with his botty muscles, glad that he was clean from the enema, and let his weight press down a little harder. It started to slide into him, slowly but surely opening him up. Suddenly he felt the head slip past the tight muscles inside his botty and as they relaxed the pain disappeared. To his astonishment he was able to press right down until his botty met the bench. He moved laterally slightly and felt it move inside him – a strange feeling but it did not hurt.

‘There,’ said Auntie, softly. ‘Now very gently you can start to ride. You can begin with a very slow trot,’ and the whip tapped his bottom gently.

He rose a little, very slowly and felt the cock pull out. It felt good and he kept rising until it was at least half way out. He paused and then sank down again, feeling it fill him once more. This time it did not hurt but started to excite him. Rising slowly again, a little higher he pushed firmly down on it and it felt good. He leant forward and started to rock backwards and forwards, getting used to the strange thrills passing through his bottom.

Auntie watched, smiling to herself. She knew she had won again and Joe was going to be an apt pupil. She could hear his breathing getting faster as he started to press hard down again. She reached out with the whip, flicking his flank a little more firmly – ‘and now perhaps a canter…’ She even noticed a little sensation of dampness between her own legs and she pressed the pommel of the whip against herself as she watched her trainee…

***

The training bench had been left overnight in his room and he lay in bed in the morning looking at the erect phallus protruding from it, wondering how on earth he had managed to press himself down on it. But something strange had happened and he had found himself riding it as if by instinct. It was almost as if he had been moving towards a sissy climax…was that possible or was it just a dream?

‘Well, well Joe. That’s enough for today.’ Auntie had stopped him. ‘We’ll leave it here for the present because you will have to practice regularly from now on. At least morning and evening.’

As he thought about the events of the previous afternoon his little morning stiffy was sticking up but he didn’t touch himself. His bottom was still a very present reminder of his punishment the day before. The whip was not something he wanted to feel again too soon.

His reverie was interrupted by his door being thrown open. Auntie marched in with a cheery ‘Good morning Joe,’ and went across to open the curtains wide. ‘Time for practice. Up you get.’

‘Good morning Auntie,’ said Joe, swinging out of bed away from Aunt Sarah to hide his little stiffy. ‘Can I just go to the bathroom first?’

‘No, no. No delaying tactics – up you jump. training first, then you can go.’

‘But Auntie ….,’ his voice faded as he saw her pick up the whip, which was also on the bench. ‘Yes Auntie,’ he said, reluctantly getting up and going to the bench. She laughed when she saw his erection. ‘Is it the ride or my whip you are excited about – or both?’ she teased him.

She supervised him as he rolled a condom onto the instrument of his training and and lubricated it and himself before he climbed astride the bench. He really would have liked to have been allowed a trip to the bathroom beforehand because he needed to wee. But the urgency diminished as he felt the tip of the phallus against his greasy botty hole. It was a little easier this morning and he pressed down more confidently. Auntie made him ride for about five minutes and the same strange feelings started to arise. But then she stopped him.

‘That will do for the moment Joe. You have a different treat in store this morning:there is something you have neglected to do and this is a good opportunity for you to put that right. Dismount and stand in the corner for a few minutes.

As he stood puzzling over what he had failed to do he heard Auntie doing something with the bench.

‘That’s it. Now come here, Joe, and remount.’ He turned and saw that the phallus was gone and the bench was once again covered with the mat. Surely not another whipping? His bottom was still red from the previous day. He climbed up astride the bench and waited as Auntie left the room. In a moment she was back. She was waving a large banana in the air and smiling.

‘You were supposed to do something with a banana for GovernessX, weren’t you? And you failed! We are not going to let ourselves be outdone by Sissy Banana Botty Annabella are we? Now, put on this rubber glove, it will help you grip. ’

And she slowly peeled the big banana and broke it into two pieces. ‘Now, this is your first training test. Let’s see how well we have prepared that sissy hole of yours,’ and she placed the two pieces of banana on the bench in front of me, before picking up her movie camera and walking behind me. ‘Off you go, first piece in,’ she cried merrily. ‘And be careful – it has to go in whole.’

Joe picked up the first piece in his gloved hand and carefully placed the pointed end against his exposed hole. With a conscious effort to relax he pushed the pointed end in, then turned his fingers flat against the other end and slowly pushed. To Auntie’s delight the banana slowly slid all the way in.

She clapped her hands – ‘and now the other half, Joe, well done, well done.’ The first half seemed to be holding him open because the second half slipped straight in. Joe clenched his bottom to hold it in and felt very full.

‘Excellent, Joe, but we aren’t finished yet. You have to hold it until I say you can poo it out. Perhaps it will help you psychologically if we get you dressed. You can put on your shorts but I think first a pair of knickers and I found just the thing in an old trunk upstairs. Climb down and put these on.’

Carefully, clenching his bottom, he climbed down and turned round. Aunt Sarah was holding up a very old fashioned pair of dark blue knickers with elastic around the legs and a reinforced gusset. They must have belonged to a big girl because he was able to pull them on, bending very gingerly to do so. There was an increase in pressure in his abdoment as he did so but he managed to clench his bottom hard and keep it all in. As he pulled up the knickers he felt a bit silly but at least the elastic around the legs provided a slight barrier if he had an accident. He managed to put on his shorts without losing control and he was sent to stand in the corner again.

Auntie busied herself with her camera for a moment and then told him not to move without her permission and left. As he stood there he could feel pressure building front and back. It was not helped by the sound of running water and the flushing lavatory in the bathroom next door. he was hoping it would be his turn now and his spirits rose as she reentered the room. But she checked the camera, then sat down and started to read the newspaper she had brought with her, crossing her legs and relaxing.

‘Please, Auntie. May I go to the bathroom now?’ he said as calmly as he could.

‘No. I’m sure you can manage to control yourself a bit longer. It’s good practice for you.’

The minutes ticked away and he began to squirm and press his hand against his bottom. ‘Please, please Auntie,’ he whimpered, but she was adamant.

He could feel the banana pressing downwards and a tiny bit slipped out into the knickers. There was a gurgling inside him and as he pressed his hand against his bottom this time he felt the little squidginess between his cheeks. He was sobbing now but still she refused to let him go.

At last he could hold it no longer and he felt the first part of the banana slide out, pressing against his shorts where he held his hand. Slowly he felt the mess soak through the cotton and make his hand wet.


The pressure built up again but still he was not allowed to move. Suddenly he lost complete control. He felt the second part of the banana push out against his hand followed by a rush of what could only be poo, suddenly released by the banana. He had thoroughly soiled his knickers and shorts and tears of shame ran down his cheeks.

‘What a sight! And what a mess! I knew I should have put nappies on you,’ Auntie said from behind the camera.

As he stood in shame he felt the urge to wee rising and his messy hand clutched at his crutch, but it was too late, The stream of wee soaked hot through his shorts and trickled from his hand onto the floor. he had stopped weeping and just stood, head hung in total humiliation.

‘Turn round, Joe. Show us what else you have done.’

‘Naughty, naughty, dirty wet boy. I think we may have to put you down several classes and send you to school in nappies, don’t you? Let’s see how messy you are. Turn back into the corner and drop those dirty shorts.’

As he undid the shorts and they fell to his ankles, he felt the upper part of the knickers clinging to his bottom and the gusset hanging down, full of poo and banana.

‘Now pull down the knickers, carefully.’ He obeyed, the realisation dawning on him that his total abject humiliation was all being filmed,

‘That will do. I think we now have enough to show your respect for GovenessX’s demands. I wonder how your little baby sissy friends will enjoy seeing you in that state.’

***

Chapter 3: The Return

The smell in the tack room was of leather and saddle soap, hay and horses. There were overtones of coffee and liniment and the sound of nearby horses and a distant tractor. The day was warm and Joe sweated as he worked on the leather harness although he wore only light cotton shorts. Racks and pegs held a vast range of tack on the walls and beside the workbench there were wooden stands bearing saddles. It was not a world with which Joe was familiar, although it had taken his mind back a good many years. As a young adolescent he had fallen madly in love with a pretty sixteen-year-old and had tried to attract her attention by adopting her favourite sport of riding. Sadly his finances and his ardour had been rapidly exhausted. After a while he had been distracted by another less unattainable young goddess but the images had continued to excite him. Standing in the tack room now his mind went back to her: the way she mounted and sat the saddle; the relaxed and confident grip of the reins; the squeeze of her tightly breeched calves and the barely discernible flick of the whip when she set off; later, as she led the fine stallion back to the stable after her ride, the fine damp line down the centre of the back of her cotton shirt. The dark line of dampness extended down the first few inches of the seam dividing her tightly clad athletic derriere. As she stood talking across the stable yard her young breasts rose proudly against the white cotton piqué and the whip tapped the side of her riding boots. Even now his cheeks burned as he remembered the hot pleasure when occasionally she had acknowledged his presence with a smile.

The clatter of hooves entering the yard cut across his reverie and brought him back to the present. He quickly checked the three curious harnesses he had been given to polish, anxiously giving the leather a final rub and straightening them on the bench. One he had recognised instantly as Lise handed it to him that afternoon when they arrived at the stables. It was his personal harness, designed and made especially for him but never really used. Once, on the island, Sue had fitted it on him and made him wear it under his shorts. He remembered the humiliation of being made to strip off in front of her and bend over so that she could check he had washed properly. He was shocked to realise its purpose. Although he had experienced only the cold metal ring pressing against his most private place, Sue had demonstrated vividly with her finger that it was designed to hold a phallus intruding deeply into him.

He recalled his embarrassment later that day when, after his first, intensely erotic, encounter with Lise, he could not dash into the sea to rinse his sticky shorts because he was wearing the brand new harness underneath. The mischievous look on Lise’s face when she handed him the harness this afternoon made him suspect she had guessed his shaming secret of that day. Certainly as he had walked off with the clammy dark patch on his khaki shorts there had been a mixture of both sympathy and amusement in her voice. Afterwards, Auntie had put away the harness for the time being and started training him to accept intrusion into his ‘botty hole’ as she called it. To his astonishment his initial embarrassment, humiliation and discomfort had started to give way to sensations of arousal and excitement as he was made to ride the big dildo, Auntie’s riding whip urging him on. But then his island stay had been abruptly cut short and he had left those adventures behind to drive Auntie back to England.

She had been sad to leave the island so early in the summer but there were important unexpected matters at home that required not only her attention but her physical presence. ‘My dear,’ she had told Sue, ‘I am devastated to be deserting you and interrupting our plans. But you know I have to go. I hate to fly or to drive myself over long distances so Joe will have to put aside his role-play fun and drive me. But I promise to send him back in a fortnight and place him completely at your disposal for the summer. The fresh air is so good for him and I shall be content that he will be in expert hands. You know how I fuss about the dear boy. Perhaps I’ll see if Nina can spare the time to escort him. I know she was hoping to visit you. I shall try to come back towards the end of the summer if I can manage it. I was so looking forward to our little games myself...’

Back in England Nina had jumped at the chance of a free trip to her mother’s island – Auntie had insisted on paying her return fare – and she loved the idea of ‘escorting’ Joe.

‘Don’t worry, Sarah, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into any mischief,’ she had assured Auntie.

‘I’m sure you will, my dear,’ replied Auntie, with a little laugh. ‘And I’m sure you’ll know what to do about it if he does – he still needs careful guidance and firm discipline, my dear.’ Auntie spoke as if Joe were not in the room and he shuffled his feet and looked down in acute embarrassment as she made it quite clear what Nina’s mandate was –

‘At the first sign of any back-slipping you will have to pull down his pants and put him over your knee. A thorough spanking works wonders. You have my full permission. In fact if you fail me you’ll find yourself over my knee again!’ For a second Nina looked flustered. Joe had not known that Nina had been across Auntie’s knee and Nina was not particularly happy to be reminded in his presence. ‘Make no mistake Sarah, I won’t fail you,’ she smiled, giving Joe an almost malicious look.

‘But remember my dear, no cane or whip. I promised your mother Joe would be available for role-playing at the school as soon as he gets back and she prefers to work with a - what shall we say? - blank canvas, so to speak. But there are certain exercises he should start work on, even before you reach the island. I’ll give you the details before you leave. Now, you are booked from Heathrow on Wednesday. Lise will meet you at the airport and put you up. All three of you can go out to the island on Friday evening so you will have the weekend to settle in before the first students arrive. Give Lise and your mother a call to confirm timings and in case they want you to take anything special from here. Lise said something about riding so you may want to take your things.’

The flight had been uneventful, although Nina had already started to make it clear that she would not put up with any nonsense. When the stewardess brought the drinks trolley Joe had asked for a beer but Nina had quickly interrupted. ‘No, no! You may have to drive later Joe. We’ll just have orange juice thank you.’ He had submitted meekly, knowing she was right.

Lise was picking them up from the airport but he knew they planned to go riding that afternoon and he would perhaps have to drive them to the stables. His spirits rose when he saw Lise waiting for them outside the arrivals area. She was looking stunning in a light cotton skirt and top that showed off her slim waist and full breasts, her long bronzed legs and shapely hips. She greeted them both enthusiastically, embracing Nina and allowing Joe to kiss her cheeks. ‘I’m so pleased you could come, Nina. It’s been ages since you were here and we are going to have such fun. And thank you for bringing Joe back – we have missed him!’ As her eyes swept over him he could not help blushing; Lise could make him feel like an awkward adolescent in an instant but it just increased his infatuation.

Lise drove from the airport but stopped en route at a shop Joe recognised. Sue had sent him there once before to pick up various packages to take to the island. ‘Just pop in and ask for this,’ Lise said, handing him a printout order form. ‘Sue put in the order and paid for it’. Somewhat reluctantly he approached the young brunette at the counter and proffered the printout. She obviously remembered him and immediately spoke in English. ‘Welcome back. Everything is ready and packed. Wait, I fetch it.’ She returned carrying two plastic carrier bags and put them on the counter. ‘One moment,’ she said, reaching across to a rack beside her and selecting a thin, whippy cane with a crooked handle. ‘This is our surprise gift.’ She swished the cane in the air twice and lent on the counter. Pointing at an armchair behind him she added, ‘You like to bend over and try?’ His confusion was met with peals of laughter. She doubled the cane and put it into one of the carrier bags. ‘I think you maybe get to bend over and try quite soon,’ she laughed as he headed for the door.

When they arrived at Lise’s house Morten was there to welcome them and say farewell. He was leaving for some sort of training course and would be away for two weeks but promised to join them on the island on his return. Joe noticed that he treated Nina with affection but considerable deference and had the feeling that she must have figured in Sue’s training programme for Lise and Morten at some stage. Lise’s mother, who was going to baby sit while Lise was on the island, had come to collect the baby and had prepared lunch. Joe was hungry but Lise took him on one side. ‘Both Aunt Sarah and Sue have told me that you have to lose some weight, Joe, and I can’t disagree. Sue has decided that it would be a good idea for you to go through a de-tox routine over the weekend - a chance to empty your system and give it a rest. It will also be a good thing for some of our little role-plays. So you are restricted to herb tea, juice and possibly a special little treat in the evening if you are very good. Why don’t you have a cup of tea, get changed into your shorts and go for a little walk. We’ll leave for the stables at 3:00 so be back by then. Remember Sue’s rules for shorts, by the way!’

The women were immediately engrossed in baby talk and Joe went to his room to change. To his surprise, lying on the bed was a pair of shorts he had left on the island. He realised Lise and Sue must have laid careful plans for him and he would be foolish to resist. As he undressed it occurred to him that he probably would not be needing his ‘town’ clothes for a while and there was a measure of liberation in just wearing shorts. He considered keeping his underpants on but thought back to the first time he had failed to obey Sue on that point and decided to strip them off.

As he picked up the shorts a small red silk pouch, a white package and a tube of petroleum jelly dropped from them onto the bed. He stared for a moment as the import of this sank in. It was weeks since he had been made to wear a tampon and for a moment thoughts of resistance welled up. Whether it was his infatuation with Lise or his fear of Sue that forced acceptance he was not sure. But the message was clear. He opened the drawstring at the top of the pouch and extracted the round rubber bulb and the black plastic probe of the anal douche. He picked up the lubricant and went to the bathroom. As he carried out his ablutions, rinsing thoroughly several times, he realised he was pressing the probe in and out more than necessary and enjoying the feeling. He stopped himself from going too far, sensing he had to conserve his energies for the days ahead. Returning to the bedroom, he replaced the thoroughly cleaned douche in the pouch. He liked the feeling of cleanliness. Unwrapping the tampon, he lubricated it carefully, and, squatting slightly, pressed it firmly into his bottom, with just the little string hanging out. Drawing on the shorts and a pair of plimsolls, he left his room and the house without encountering anyone.

At five minutes to three he was waiting by the car as the women emerged. They made a striking pair. Both were dressed in tightly fitting light riding breeches and high black riding boots. They wore white cotton blouses and carried gloves and whips. But their similar attire accentuated their differences. Lise, the younger, was the more athletic and the prettier, with a slender waist and full bosom, shoulder-length dark hair and an air of gaiety in her mannerisms and the twinkle of her dark eyes. Nina was taller and stronger, more mature but in fine shape; handsome rather than pretty, but with long strong legs and an authoritative manner. Joe felt almost exposed wearing just shorts and plimsolls. But it seemed his attire met with their approval. As she approached the car Lise laid a hand on his rump – ‘You found the shorts – good. And the other little things?’ She raised her eyebrow but not in any real doubt that he had done as expected. His flushed cheek and quick nod confirmed he had. They sat in the back seat and chatted as he drove.

When they arrived at the stables their horses were ready saddled and waiting for them. The stable girl was anxious to leave and it was arranged that Lise would put the horses in the paddock and lock up after the ride. She asked if it would be all right for Joe to do some work in the tack room while they were out and the girl readily agreed. Joe wondered what work he could possibly do in a tack room but Lise took a bag from the car and took him in to give him his instructions.

She emptied the bag on the workbench, depositing three black leather and stainless steel harnesses. ‘These need to be carefully cleaned and polished, Joe. Treating them with saddle soap will make them softer and more comfortable. But you must take great care not to get saddle soap on the silk lining on these,’ she indicated the two new ones he had not seen before. They were different but each had a triangular shaped piece of thicker leather at its centre, one much larger than the other. Each triangle was mounted with a steel ring, held in place by thin straps with heavy duty press studs. The reverse of each triangle was lightly padded and lined in silk. ‘Don’t use saddle soap on the triangular piece because that is designed to be fairly rigid. Just use a little silicone polish on that. Make sure you read through the instructions carefully,’ she added, pointing to the saddle soap and polish.

She placed her hand in the small of his back. ‘I’m so glad to have you back, Joe. We shall have such fun,’ she said in a softer voice. Her hand fell slowly as she held his eyes with hers. It followed the curve of his rump, the fingertips brushing the seam between his buttocks. His shorts, cut-down chinos, were short and loose and he felt her hand slip under them, tapping gently on the underside of his bottom until it found what it was looking for. She gave a few gentle little tugs on the string, not enough to displace the tampon but enough to give him a strange sensation deep inside. She smiled conspiratorially, released him and left, blowing a kiss over her shoulder. He felt a deep longing as he watched her go but could not place the emptiness. As he picked up his harness in his left hand, almost instinctively his right hand reached behind him, pressing to make sure the tampon was still in place. He realised in a rush that he wanted something more than the tampon. Picking up one of the other harnesses, it dawned on him what they were for. His pulse quickened and he clenched his buttock cheeks, pressing himself against the bench as his little cock stiffened under the cotton. It took all his self control to pull himself away from the bench and force himself to read the instructions on the saddle soap...

***

As he gave the harnesses a final polish he could hear Lise and Nina outside. ‘Joe, put the kettle on and then come and carry in the saddles,’ Lise called. He had already prepared the coffee tray and filled the kettle, so he just switched it on and went straight out. Lise handed him her saddle and turned to start rubbing down her mount as he carried it in, placing it on a spare rack, or ‘wooden horse’ as Lise had called them. ‘Here you are, Joe,’ called Nina, waiting at the half door with her saddle. ‘What have you been up to while we were out?’

‘Don’t answer, Joe!’ Lise interrupted with a grin. ‘It’s a surprise for Nina.’

‘What are you two conspirators up to? I think I shall have to bend both of you over a saddle,’ she said with a laugh, swishing her crop against the side of her boot. Lise giggled gaily, poking out her bottom at Nina. ‘You’re not allowed to, remember what your mother said to Aunt Sarah – she wants Joe delivered unmarked, and that goes for me to!’

‘We’ll see about that, young lady. Perhaps you are forgetting how my hand stings on a bare bottom – and you have the weekend to recover.’ Lise pouted in mock consternation and went back to rubbing down the horse. ‘Joe, take that saddle in, make sure you have covered up the surprises, pour us some coffee and then go and fetch the carrier bags from the car,’ she called over her shoulder, glancing at him with her beautiful laughing eyes. He smiled back and nodded, catching her happy mood and anxious to please her. He poured the coffee and opened a packet of chocolate biscuits, putting a few on a plate and idly popping one into his mouth, then heading out to fetch the carrier bags. As he passed Nina he was still happily munching and he missed the lift of her eyebrow and the exchange of glances between the girls.

As her returned with the bags the girls were releasing the horses into the paddock and they soon followed him into the cool of the tack room. ‘We can have a shower when we have had our coffee,’ Lise said, opening a cupboard and taking out two clean towelling robes and towels.’

‘Wonderful,’ said Nina, settling into a corner of the big sofa and reaching for her coffee. ‘Now, what is all this about surprises?’

‘Well,’ grinned Lise, as she unbuttoned her blouse to cool herself. ‘Before you can have your little surprise, Joe has something to show you, don’t you Joe?’ Seeing his puzzled look, she walked over to him and placed her hands on his hips. He coloured slightly at her touch and closeness. He could feel her warmth and smell the natural scent of her body, damp from exercising in the heat. Her curls clung charmingly to one temple and as he lowered his eyes he was almost mesmerized by the sight of her breasts, swelling against her bra. He saw that she was still using the protective nursing pads and as his mind flashed back to how she had suckled him on the beach he felt a rapid stiffening in the front of his shorts.

‘Joe has an exercise programme to follow as well as his diet. Isn’t that right Joe? Aunt Sarah started you on it on the island earlier in the summer but had to break it off when you left. Now we have just a few days to work on it with you before role play next week. Nina has promised to help. So we are going to show her your smart new harness, aren’t we Joe?’

As she spoke she slid her hands to the front of his shorts and unbuttoned them at the waist. As she started to slowly pull down the zip she brushed his little stiffy with the back of her fingers and stopped, looking up into his eyes with a mixture of amusement and triumph in hers. ‘Well, well. It seems our little Joe is finding the thought of his training very exciting,’ she said, pressing her palm against the top of the bulge in his shorts and shooting a mischievous glance at Nina. Nina looked at Joe with a raised eyebrow and a shake of the head. ‘I think he is in need of smacked bottom rather than encouragement,’ she said.

‘All in good time,’ said Lise as she quickly jerked the zip down and dropped his shorts to the floor. She gave his straining member a sharp backhanded blow with her fingers and turned him towards the bench, pressing his back down. He felt confused. He regretted his loss of control but Lise had never struck him before. Her reaction had not seemed angry and but the blow had an almost instant effect – his stiffness had already disappeared. He felt her leather-clad calf between his legs and spread them as he bent forward over the bench, exposing himself fully to the cool appraisal of Nina on the sofa.

‘As you can see, he has been wearing a temporary plug this afternoon. I think we had better remove it before we fit the harness.’ He felt the gentle but prolonged pull on the string. His immediate reaction was to clamp his muscles but then he forced himself to relax and allow the tampon to be pulled out. Lise wrinkled her nose as she held it up for inspection. ‘Well, at least he seems to have douched himself thoroughly before inserting it,’ she said, dropping it into a waste bin under the bench. ‘Now, pass me your harness, Joe, and stand up, legs apart... .’

Joe reached across the bench and took his harness from under the cloth he had thrown over all three. He passed it to Lise without turning. She made him move away from the bench and quickly passed the belt around his waist and cinched it at the hip. The twin straps dropped down, framing his genitals. Her fleeting proximity again had an effect on his little willy and it started to grow even as she buckled the belt. ‘Naughty boy,’ she said. ‘I think we shall have to get a little cage to fit to the front of this to keep you under control,’ and once again she gave him a smart tap with the back of her fingers. He gasped and bent forward to protect himself and she stepped aside, pressing him forward further and reaching between his spread thighs to grasp the dangling strap. He reached out to support himself on the bench and he felt the cold metal ring against his sphincter as she buckled the single strap to the belt in the middle of his back. Her hand dropped and pressed against the central pad, pushing the ring against him. ‘Does that feel centred?’ she enquired in a business-like tone. ‘Yes.’ he mumbled. He nearly jumped upright as her open palm slapped hard down on the right cheek of his bottom but her left hand pressed down in the small of her back. ‘Yes – Miss – Lis - e – Thank – you – ver - y – much - Miss – Lis - e!’ she recited, punctuating each syllable with a sharp slap on alternate cheeks of his bottom. He could feel the heat in his bottom as he tried to wriggle away from the slaps. He had not thought her so strong. ‘Yes, thank you very much Miss Lise’ he gabbled. The slaps stopped and he breathed a sigh of relief, staying bent over and waiting for instructions.

‘I always found that a good spanking improved his manners when he was a teenager.’ Nina commented as she rose from the sofa and came over to inspect the harness more closely, running her fingers over the leather. Lise opened the first carrier bag and unwrapped a parcel on the bench. Joe saw it contained a carton with the words ‘Bend over boy training set’ printed on it. She opened the carton and emptied the contents on the bench. There were three differently sized dildos, each with a metal ring at the bottom, and a tube of lubricant. She picked up the smallest, about five inches long and about one inch in diameter. It appeared to be made of clear silicone or rubber and realistically shaped. She flexed it back and forth. ‘See, it looks like a little stiff cock and is just about as bendy. It will make a good starter. It’s smaller than the ones Sarah was using to train him but of course it’s going to stay in for a longer period. See, little Joe – what a lucky thing you are. You’ll enjoy the feel of this won’t you?’ And she held the little dildo down low so he could see it, then lifted it to his lips.

‘I expect you’d like to taste it as well, wouldn’t you. You are a naughty little thing. Sucky, sucky!’ He tried to turn away from the dildo pressing against his lips but she put her other hand on the back of his head and reluctantly he parted his lips and let it slide in. Lise pressed it deep into his mouth and then withdrew it very slowly, repeating the action several times. Then she left it in his mouth and, picking up the lubricant, undid the rear strap of the harness. With the thumb and forefinger of her left hand she pressed his cheeks apart and squirted a liberal coating of lubricant onto the puckered opening. Releasing his cheeks she quickly reached for the dildo. She replaced the ring in the harness with the smaller one from the base of the dildo and fitted the dildo in place. The lubricant felt cold on his bottom and as she placed the tip of the phallus in it, turning it to make sure it was well covered, he felt Nina move close to his right side and place her arms on his back with a hand on each of his buttocks, pulling them apart. Lise, on the other side, locked him in position with her left foot between his legs and her thigh pressing against his groin, her side against his. She raised the probe and started to press it against him. He tried to squirm and tense his buttocks but Lise applied steady pressure. ‘There, there, just relax and push out a little. There, in it goes. Just a little more. There.’ It had gone in quite smoothly the first few inches but she had to press quite firmly to get it all the way in. As soon as it was there she brought the strap up to the middle of his back, through the buckle and pulled it tight. She patted his bottom, put her hand on the pad holding the dildo and pressed a little. He could not help pushing back against her hand and enjoying the feeling inside his bottom.

‘Now, now, stop that. I think our little sissy enjoys being taken from behind, Nina. Perhaps we’ll have to rename him Joanna!’ He heard them snigger and blushed, realising Lise was right. ‘I think he’s ready for something bigger already, but we can leave that until after we’ve had our shower. Come over here Joe and help us with our boots first.’

She sat down on the sofa and raised one leg. He reached out to take her boot. ‘Not like that you silly. Turn round and part your legs.’ He did as he was told and she brought her boot up into his crutch where he took hold of it. Then she placed her other foot on his bottom and pushed. The boot came off and he repeated the procedure. It was much nicer to feel Lise’s stockinged foot on his bottom than the sole of her boot! He did the same for Nina, placing the boots on the bench.

I think we’ll sit him on that saddle with his bottom up in the air while we are showering. He can wiggle his little botty and reflect on his naughtiness. Oh, yes Joanna. You thought you had got away with breaking your diet when you stole that biscuit. That’s another lesson your botty is going to have to learn when we come back.’ Saying which, Lise guided him across to where the saddle sat on the wooden horse. She did up the cinches and made him climb onto it and put his feet in the stirrups, lying forward and wrapping his arms round the front of the stand. His bottom waved high in the air at the back of the saddle. The stirrups were short and the position forced his cheeks apart. Lisa pressed on the pad over the dildo again and tightened the strap one more hole. ‘Now, stay just like that until we come back and deal with you. If you move we shall strap you down next time.’

***
To be continued.

---

Emma

The drinks party was a bit dull – making polite conversation with smart people who kept glancing over my shoulder to see if there was anyone more exciting or profitable to talk to! Drinking fizzy water because I had to drive home. But then I saw Emma come into the room – better than a glass of champagne. Emma is that rare mix of beauty and intelligence, friendliness and fun. Her charm is fresh and natural, open and direct; she can be a wicked tease, but she is never really cruel. And of course she can get away with anything – a twinkle in her lovely brown eyes, a toss of her shiny chestnut hair and a little giggle is all it takes to melt any heart, male or female.

Her presence was like a magnet to many in the room and she was quickly greeting old friends, chatting, laughing, touching and warming every soul with her natural sunshine. She had seen me across the room, given a wave and blown a kiss. I waved back but didn’t join the throng – I knew she would come over to chat when her admirers had calmed down a little.

Emma and I go back a long way. This beautiful young woman was a child when I first met her, the daughter of an old girlfriend, Nina, who had become a colleague and close friend (actually Mummy Nina was very sexy and could be a bit domineering - she had been known to spank my butt when I stepped out of line – but that was a secret and another story). Although Emma was only five she already radiated charm and a sense of fun and we all adored her. She never knew her father and sometimes I stood in – good old Uncle Joe. It was on one of those occasions that something happened that seemed trivial then but is still having an impact on both of us now and probably always will have. As I watched her progress round the room in my direction my mind went back to that day.

Nina had rung me in desperation. She had an urgent and unexpected business meeting that clashed with the end of term party at Emma’s school. Emma would be heart-broken if no one came because they had been rehearsing their first little play. Could I go, watch the play and then deliver her home? ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘No problem, maybe I shall witness the debut of a star!’ ‘Thanks so much Joe – she’ll be fine if you’re there, she loves your visits. Give her my love and tell her I’ll be home as soon as possible.’

The little play was charming and afterwards there was cake and pop for all the children and lots of noise! After a while one little girl raised her hand – ‘Please, Miss Green, may I be excused?’

‘Of course Suzy,’ said the teacher. Within seconds there was a forest of hands – it must have been all the pop! ‘Now, now,’ said Miss Green, ‘You will have to take it in turns. Stand in line by the door.’

I noticed Emma had been preoccupied with her game and would be last in the race to form the queue. She looked at the queue, in a bit of a panic and started jumping from one foot to another – the poor little thing was desperate. ‘Miss Green,’ I said, ‘I think it’s time I got going with Emma. Her mother asked me not to be late.’ ‘Of course, thanks for coming,’ she smiled.

I turned just in time to see Emma disappearing behind a little bookcase, and guessed what was about to happen, I went over and swept her up with my left arm, holding her tight against me. I had a jacket over my arm which I quickly tucked under her, heading for the door, trying not to race. As I got into the corridor she buried her head in my shoulder. ‘I can’t wait, I can’t wait, Uncle Joe.’ she whispered desperately. ‘Never mind, it’s our secret I whispered, pulling the jacket tighter round her to hide any telltale traces. I didn’t want her to be teased by the others.

Sure enough by the time I got to the car my shirt was soaked and what seemed like an unbelievable amount of processed pop was running down inside my trousers. It was a long time since I had felt that! Emma buried her head in my shoulder and whispered ‘Sorry uncle. Thank you for rescuing me.’ Her tears were drying but everything else was soaking wet!

I wrapped her in an old blanket in the car seat and put a plastic sheet on the driver’s seat before heading home with her. When we got there Nina had just arrived and came over to help her out of the car. ‘Careful!’ I said, and Emma rushed to tell the story. I got out of the car and Nina looked at me and laughed. ‘It looks as though Uncle Joe has wet himself too,’ she said. ‘That’s two of you who need a bath and a change. But I don’t think we have any clean panties big enough for Uncle Joe, do we Emma?’ Emma raced for the front door and I got back into the car. ‘Maybe I had better go home and powder my own botty,’ I sighed. Nina smiled, lent through the open window, sniffed and nodded agreement. ‘Thanks Joe, I owe you one,’ she said, pecking my cheek. ‘Ouch! Last time you said that to me I couldn’t sit down for three days.’ She giggled –‘I’ll make it longer this time, promise, at least a week!’ turned and followed Emma.

***

It must have been five or six years before Emma’s accident was mentioned again – I had forgotten all about it, although I still saw them both quite often. Then one day when she was about eleven I was visiting and I noticed there was an atmosphere and Emma was unusually grumpy. Later I noticed her sitting down by the pool in the garden and wandered down. ‘We are down in the dumps today aren’t we young lady?’ She looked up and pouted, tossing her head. ‘Well, I have a right to be,’ she replied. ‘Mummy told that stupid story to two of her friends yesterday.’ She saw the question mark on my face. ‘About the time I had an accident and made you all wet. It’s ancient history, but they all giggled like mad and I was totally mortified!’ she said, looking really upset.

‘Oh, come on,’ I said. ‘We all have to be able to take a joke. You just have to laugh back at them – after all you were only little.’

She didn’t seem much comforted so I racked my brains to come up with something to divert her and restore her usual good temper. Then I thought about myself as a child – of course, I could tell her about my first year at school and Miss Smith. That would take her mind off her own bruised dignity. Maybe I would have to doctor the story a little...

‘You know, something similar happened to me once....’
Some readers may recall the story of Miss Smith, but for those who missed it, it was my personal story and it went like like this...

“When I started school my form mistress (yes, that’s what we called our teacher then) was Miss Smith. Then, I thought she was beautiful, but looking back at an old photo years ago I realized that my view must have been coloured by her personality! I remember she wore a long skirt, almost reaching her ankles but kept her handkerchief tucked into the leg of her knickers, which were thick and long, elasticated just above the knee. I sat close to the front and when she sat at her desk I caught a glimpse of her knickers whenever she reached for her handkerchief. Even at that age I looked forward to her little sneezing fits!

One day we had been out to play and Miss Smith was supervising us in the changing room when she noticed a puddle on the floor and bent down to inspect it. There was silence as she straightened up and demanded to know who had had an accident. No one owned up and Miss Smith made us all line up in front of her. We wore long grey shorts and as we shuffled forward she put her hand up each boy’s shorts and felt his underpants to see if they were wet. I can still almost feel her hand on my little toggle and bits as she checked me (I was dry). Towards the back of the queue she found the culprit and we were sent out while she dealt with him – but we could hear! And the strangest thing was that I am sure I envied him being pulled across her knee to be dried and then spanked on his bare bottom for not owning up! All I ever got was a ruler on my hand – it hurt a lot but didn’t compare to the excitement of the thought of going over her knee! Maybe I’m still longing for Miss Smith to catch me being very naughty!? “

Well, Emma started to giggle at my description of Miss Smith’s bloomers and I knew I had her attention. ‘’You naughty little boy,’ she said with mock shock when I told her how I looked forward to Miss S’s sneezing fits. When I started to tell her about the pool of pee in the changing room she grew quiet. I made one essential change and told her it was me that was guilty and Miss S had found me out because my pants were soaked just like hers had been. (Of course, I didn’t mention that funny longing for attention that had put me across Miss S’s knee many times in my fantasies). ‘So, you see – you’re not the only one! Of course I was teased a bit but I soon forgot and learned to laugh it off if anyone mentioned it.’

‘Thanks, Uncle Joe – you rescued me again,’ she laughed. ’Come on, let’s swim!’ and she was up and away, troubles forgotten for the moment.

***
Now, here she was fifteen years later, charming as ever but now a stunning woman. Her long neck emphasized her grace. Her full, shapely breasts in a gossamer bra under a simple top cut just low enough to fire the imagination; there was a suggestion of her erect nipples under the sheer stuff. Her waist, slim and lithe with a little peek of smooth tummy. My eyes took in a pair of designer jeans that showed off her long legs and sensational bottom. I saw the pleasure and lust in a few other pairs of eyes as she walked towards me. It had been a long time and I had almost forgotten how beautiful she was.

‘Hi Uncle Joe!’ she cried. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. I thought I would have to search you out,’ as she reached up and brushed my cheek with her lovely mouth. Suddenly it felt as though we were the only two in focus in the room – everyone else was a blur. ‘I’ve come down to look after the house for Mummy for a week while she’s in Greece. A whole week just to laze around the pool! I was hoping you would have some spare time...You won’t let me down, Joe-baby?’

‘Well, I’m working at home now, so I shall be available at your beck and call, Ma’am,’ I joked, realising I felt warm with pleasure that she wanted to see me. I could see a few looks of envy from men near me! ‘What do you have in mind?’

‘Oh, nothing too strenuous,’ I just want to see you and talk about old times. It’s been so long and I’m always thinking about you. I can’t stay now but I’ll give you a call tomorrow.’ My heart sank – I had thought of suggesting dinner. I was afraid she might get busy and forget.

‘You know, Mummy and I have been talking about how much fun we had back then. I never realised you and she had been so close, you wicked things’ she said, with a little smile playing on her lips and – was I dreaming – a slightly arched eyebrow? ‘I have been working so hard I need some fun now,’ she said with a suggestion of a pout. ‘And I’m sure you do, too, the way you work. You know I still owe you, - for rescuing me a couple of times back then! And Mummy said she never got around to giving you the reward she had in mind.’

‘Good heavens,’ I thought, ‘what has Nina been telling her? Or has she guessed something?’ Maybe it was my imagination, but my cheeks felt hotter.

‘You know, I never really thanked you for your kindness that day,’ she said, dropping her voice. Her hand reached up and lay on my chest. ‘I have an opportunity this week...’

‘It was my pleasure,’ I said. ‘Anytime I can help, just let me know.’

'Well, who knows,' she responded, with a wicked grin. 'Perhaps I can let you revisit the pleasure? Only this time help you enjoy it a little more?’

What did she mean? Could she mean? She saw my confusion and smiled slowly. 'You like the thought of that, don't you Joe?' she teased. ‘I think it could be more than your shirt that gets wet this time!' She whirled and disappeared into the crowd. But she glanced back, saw my expression and gave me a slow wink. ‘Call you soon!’ she cried over the noise.

Next day the 'phone rang. 'Oh dear, Joe,' came the husky tones. 'I need your help. I so need to pee...Please could you rescue me again?'

***

She giggled in that disarming way. ‘Come on Joe! The sun is shining and the pool is glinting; the beer is cool and the sauna hot. What are you waiting for?’

‘I’m on my way,’ I said.

‘Bring your trunks (not to mention your trunk) and some shorts to change into. We’ll swim and barbecue – and just chill.’

I took nanoseconds to get ready and was on the road immediately – slightly confused – what was going on?

As I walked down into the garden I saw her stretched out on the tiles beside the pool. She was wearing a simple white bikini – contrasting sensuously with her golden skin and revealing her hour-glass shape in all its perfection. She seemed almost sleepy in the sun, hot and languid as she smiled up to me. ‘Hi Joe,’ she murmured. ‘It’s so good to lie and soak up the rays. Why don’t you go into the cabana and get those things off? Come and get some sun.’

It was difficult not to stare at the goddess stretched out before me. The long golden limbs, the flat firm abdomen and the full breasts, pert and erect as she stretched her arms over her head towards me. I needed to cool down!

‘Maybe I should take a dip first,’ I said, heading to the cabana to change. As I emerged in my trunks and looked at her again I felt a quickening in my loins and a growing potential embarrassment in my trunks. ‘I’m going to do some lengths before I relax,’ I called, hoping to cover my burgeoning arousal. ‘You look a little hot, Joe,’ she smiled. ‘Go cool down, we have the rest of the day ahead of us,’ she said, gently drawing her hand across her inner thighs and scratching some imaginary itch at her bikini line.

I plunged into the pool, swam a few lengths, reduced winky to a little cold walnut, and hauled myself out, collapsing on a poolside mattress to dry off. Emma got up and fetched a couple of beers from the cool box, passed one down to me and sipped her own. ‘You deserve a rest Joe. Just relax and take a snooze. I’ll rouse you later,’ she said – a funny choice of words! ‘

I lay in the sun, my body drying quickly, not sleeping but half-watching Emma as she went through a silent yoga routine of stretching and holding by the side of the pool. She glanced around, grinned and admitted ‘It’s so difficult to take the plunge after lying in the sun so long.’ Turning back towards the pool as though trying to summon the courage to jump, she presented too tempting a target. I lifted my leg, placed my foot close to her delectable bottom and pushed. In she went with a great splash, surfaced and turned to me, ‘You monkey,’ she cried. ‘You’ll pay for that!’ Then she twisted and dived, starting to swim lengths. She was as graceful in the water as on land...

I dozed off and dreamt of fairies and water nymphs – maybe. At any rate, as I woke I could hear the steady rhythm of my water nymph swimming up and down the pool. I raised an eyelid and watched her. Her movements were lazy and sensuous but she made swift progress through the water. She varied her turns, sometimes seeming not to touch the end of the pool but change direction almost by magic. Then she would turn with a thrash of powerful shapely legs and surge forwards like a bullet.

The warm sun and beer made me doze off again – I had no sense of time. Then, in my dreams I felt a light shower across my chest and started to stir. I became aware that the sun was blocked out and opened my eyes to see a wondrous vision of beauty above me, silhouetted by the low sun playing on the soft skin of her sides. She was shaking her wet hair over my warm chest but I could not see her face, just the aurora of the sun around her voluptuous body. There were drips of pool water dropping from her bikini onto my belly. I could see she was hiding her hands behind her back. ‘Now, Uncle Joe, it’s your turn to get wet!’ she giggled as she sat down on my tummy, bringing her hands forward and pouring the contents of two pool ladles onto my chest. The cool water made me catch my breath.

‘You little minx,’ I cried, reaching up and tickling her like I had so many years ago. ‘No! No! Uncle!’ she squealed, wriggling and squirming to escape my grasp. She had always giggled uncontrollably when tickled and she had obviously not grown out of it. As she wriggled her hips moved down and were astride my belly. My cock started to stiffen and before I could twist away it was trapped between her squirming mons and my belly. She ground herself into me and moved her warm wet mouth to my ear. I felt her tongue push into it before she said, ’Oh, Uncle, I can’t wait, I can’t wait!’ ‘Uncle Joe.’ she whispered desperately, ‘I have to pee, I can’t wait any longer.’ ‘Never mind, it’s our secret,’ I whispered, ‘let it go.’

Her beautiful breasts pressed into my chest, the bikini top slipping off, releasing their softness. I could feel her hard nipples against mine and her hips ground against my cock, pressing and twisting. ‘Oh god, it’s coming,’ she cried, and I felt the sudden change as the hot stream of her golden flow drenched my thrusting cock. It triggered something in my brain that went straight to my loins and I bucked and thrusted as I creamed and creamed, mixing my juices with hers. Slowly we subsided and she raised her face. ‘That’s better,’ she said, with a wide smile. I’ve been waiting to pee on you again for twenty years. Don’t expect me to wait so long next time!’

She rolled to one side, looking like a cat that had licked the cream. ‘Gosh, little Joe,’ she said,’ you are not only soaked with wee wee but I know you have a naughty creamy in your pants as well. Now go up to the cabana and clean yourself while I get us some tea. Put on your shorts and come back and behave yourself! ‘

She raised her lissom body and headed to the house, leaving me dazed. Perhaps I should do as instructed? I stripped off and showered by the poolside, then went to the cabana and dried off. I put on the shorts I had brought and a shirt and sat on the bench on the deck.
I had noticed an incongruous item in the cabana – almost like a school desk - but thought nothing of it then. A little later I heard Emma call down – ‘Put the desk out in front of the bench Joe, we can have our tea there.’ I did as asked and soon she came down with a tray. On it was a cup of tea and a big glass of milk, as well as an old fashioned ruler. ‘Now we can start the second act of our game, little Joe,’ she said.

I looked up at her, standing with the sun behind her shapely silhouette. She had changed into a long, light linen dress and slightly formal white blouse. The sun shone through her dress and suddenly I realised that she was wearing cotton bloomers underneath, reaching almost to her knees. My heart raced as I saw the playful expression on her face.

She sat down in front of me and gave me the milk. ‘Drink up, little Joe,’ she said, taking her tea from the tray. ‘But Emma, don’t I get tea?’ I asked. ‘No, you aren’t old enough, and not so much of the “Emma” my boy,’ she replied. ‘You may call me Miss Smith,’ she said with a wicked look in her eye.

What was she planning now?

***

‘Yes Miss Smith,’ I played along, my mind racing back to the story I had told her so long ago. - Had it made such an impression that the details had stuck in her mind? Why else would she be wearing that calf-length skirt and what I was sure were old-fashioned bloomers? She must have been planning this well ahead to have had those available –
 
‘Now stop day-dreaming Joe and drink up your milk,’ her voice cut into my reverie. ‘And sit up straight or you’ll be making a mess,’ she said. As she spoke she took a chair over behind the table a few feet in front of me and sat, placing the tray to her side. She took the ruler, an 18” polished wooden piece that must have been an antique, and placed it carefully at the front of the table with a meaningful look at me.  I hurried to drink the big glass of milk as I saw her reach down and open a box beside the table. She took out what looked like a sketch pad and some crayons as well as some exercise books and placed them in front of her.  
 
The glass of milk seemed huge after the two beers I had had earlier - before I had been turned into Joe the school boy. But I managed to empty it and put it down. The beer was beginning to make its presence felt in my bladder and, thinking it could be fun to play along with ‘Miss Smith’ I said ‘Please, Miss Smith. May I be excused?’ She looked up sharply.
 
‘Joe, how many times do I have to tell you? If you have something to say you raise your hand and wait – you are not to shout out at me in that rude way. Now, try again.’
 
I found myself blushing slightly – I felt silly to have made the mistake. I raised my right hand high and looked at this beautiful woman who had metamorphosed, from the clinging girl who wet herself on top of me less than an hour ago, into a cool and firm teacher making me feel like an eight-year again. As I sat with my hand in the air she concentrated on sorting through the exercise books, making me wait and re-learn the lesson. Eventually she looked up, an even smile on her face. ‘Yes Joe, what is it?’ ‘Please Miss Smith, may I be excused; I need to...,’ my little boy voice died away – not knowing quite how to say it.
 
‘Now Joe, it is time you started to think ahead a little more,’ she replied, looking a bit stern. You have just had your milk break when there was plenty of time to be excused. Now it is lesson time. You will have to control yourself until this lesson is over. Perhaps next time you will remember to go during break. Now, today is drawing day and I want you to draw me a nice picture of something here in the school garden.’ She got up and brought the sketch pad and crayons over and put them on the desk in front of me. ‘But Miss,’ I began. ‘Enough, Joe. I have told you what to do. Now stop wasting time and get on with it.‘ She walked back to her desk, the light skirt swirling out from her slim waist as she turned.  
I reached for the paper and crayons. I was sure I could hold on for a bit but it was a little uncomfortable. I would try not to think about it.  Picking up the crayons and reaching for the pad I looked around for a subject and spotted the cat. Quickly I started to sketch it, glad for a task to take my mind of wanting to pee.  For a while it was just quiet as I worked with the crayons and Miss Smith sat and wrote in one of the exercise books. I had finished one sketch of the cat when it raised itself, stretched and came over to sit under Miss Smith’s table, brushing its tail against her ankle. She jumped, looked down and smiled, returning to her work. I started to sketch the cat afresh, in front of the beautiful pair of feet and ankles that I was trying to reproduce on the pad.
 
Suddenly Miss Smith gave a little sneeze. As I watched under her table I saw her reach down to her knee and pull her skirt up. She revealed the lacy bottom of her bloomers, tight around her lower thigh, and lifting the elastic with two fingers she withdrew a lacy hanky and brought to her nose. There was a little snap as she released the elastic but her skirt stayed pulled up over her knee. I sketched feverishly, trying to capture the magic of her lacy bloomers and knee but my efforts seemed inadequate. Then she reached down and replaced the hanky. I held my breath, shielding my staring with my left hand as though against the sun and waited for that tantalising snap as she released the elastic. But it didn’t come. Her fingers remained motionless, holding the lacy edge of her bloomers. Slowly I raised my eyes and looked into hers. She was watching me with one eyebrow slightly raised.
 
‘Joe!’ she said. ‘Just what are you up to? Stand up and bring that sketch pad here this instant.’ I felt the colour rise in my cheeks as I raised myself, folding my first picture quickly back on top. I went to the side of her desk and handed over the pad. She looked at my drawing of the cat, nodding approval and I began to relax. She looked up and smiled, starting to hand the sketch block back. ‘That’s quite good Joe, well done.’ But as she held the block towards me a puff of wind lifted the top sheet and something caught her eye.

***

She took the block back and turned over to the second sheet, taking in my crude efforts at a glance. ‘What exactly is the meaning of this?’ she demanded. ‘You impudent little rascal! First you try to waste time at the beginning of the lesson by pretending you need to go to the lavatory and then you have the impertinence to draw my underclothes. What do you have to say for yourself?’

‘I’m sorry Miss, I didn’t mean...’ My mumbling was cut off and the downcast and repentant look on my face had not saved me. ’Sorry! Sorry? You certainly will be sorry, boy. You are going to be sorry as you feel the ruler on the back of your legs. Now, lean forward and put your hands flat on the table.’

I did as I was told as she stood up, picking up the ruler and tapping it on her open hand. She walked behind me and stood for a moment, letting the realisation of what was going to happen sink in. My mind was in turmoil, my emotions churning as I felt just like a naughty little boy again, under the control of the beautiful young woman behind me. My pulse rate shot up and I could feel something stirring in the front of my shorts as I felt her hand at the back, pulling them high to reveal the back of my thighs. It was humiliating the way she grasped the loose material and pulled the seam high up between my buttocks, pressing against my most private parts. Then I heard the swish of the ruler as she brought it down sharply across the back of my legs. It stung like mad and I couldn’t help flinching as I heard the ruler swish down again. ‘Ow! Ow! Please Miss!’ I cried, but it was over. She released my shorts and put the ruler on the desk in front of me. ‘If there is any more nonsense from you young man you will feel that across your bottom! And it won’t be just two strokes. Now, return to your desk, sit up straight and fold your arms. If I see you move or unfold your arms before the end of the period you will stand in the corner with your hands on your head instead.’

I went and sat down, my legs stinging but my little cock stiff as a rod. What was happening? I folded my arms, sitting up straight and looking directly ahead. Miss Smith had not sat down. She was wandering around the deck, putting her fingers onto the soil in the pots in which some of the plants were looking a bit sad. She shook her head, muttered something and disappeared behind me. I didn’t dare move – I didn’t want the humiliation of having to stand in the corner. As I sat wondering how much longer the period would last I noticed my little stiffy had disappeared. Although the back of my legs still hurt against the hard wooden bench the problem that was beginning to assert itself again was that I was in serious need of a pee. - Oh well! Just have to hold out. – As I was thinking this I heard Miss Smith coming back, the clunk of a can against a wall and the sudden sound of water flowing as she filled a watering can. – Oh no! That’s all I need! – I clenched my thighs and fought back the urge, wriggling on the bench. When she turned off the tap I relaxed a bit but I suddenly felt a tiny drop of pee escape into my pants. I clenched up again and managed to control it. But then Miss Smith started walking round the deck watering the plants. With the sound of the trickling water splashing onto the soil I was desperate. I wriggled and clenched my arms, my bum... everything!

‘Sit still Joe! Remember what I said.’ – Oh god, shall I put up my hand and ask to be excused? But if she says no and then makes me stand in the corner and I lose control it will be obvious – I would be so ashamed. Best to sit tight and hope for the bell. – As I was thinking this Miss Smith emptied the can on the last plant. – Thank heavens! – But then she walked back behind me and I heard the clunk of the can against the wall. – No! I can’t take it if she turns the tap on again. Then it started – the trickle of the tap and the hollow thud as the water hit the bottom of the can and the splashing as it started to fill. – I was bursting. At least the noise will cover me a bit – I just relaxed and let it flow. Such blessed relief. I could feel the warm forcing its way out in a stream that almost hurt - pee soaking my pants, then my shorts and finally running down my legs and wetting my socks and shoes. I was past caring – the relaxation was bliss. As I moved on the bench there was a little squelch. The tap was turned off and I froze in case any movement gave me away. But there was silence. A long pause. I could almost feel Miss Smith’s eyes on my back.

‘You mucky little thing,’ she finally said quietly. ‘Turn round.’ I swivelled in my seat and there was an awful squelch. She was standing by the tap looking straight at me. Then she lowered her glance to the deck and I looked down. There was a pool of pee behind my desk and a rivulet running towards her.

‘Stand up and turn this way,’ she ordered. I stood and faced her. My shorts were ringing wet and there was pee still dripping down from them onto my shoes. It was no use denying it. ‘Well, at least I won’t have to feel your pants to see if you were responsible – it’s very obvious.’

I hung my head in utter mortification. A little schoolboy who had wet himself for all to see – and worst for Miss Smith to see my shame.

Her face softened – was there a hint of pity for me. Then she was brisk, reaching for the hose on the wall. ‘Drop your shorts, boy. Off with everything except your t-shirt if that is still dry.

'But...’ I started to protest. ‘Now!’ She said, and started to hose down the deck as I obeyed. When the pile of sopping clothes lay in front of me and I stood unsuccessfully trying to cover myself with my t-shirt she came over with the hose. ‘Hands on your head,’ she said and started hosing my lower body. ‘Feet apart!’ she barked and turned the hose onto my little cock and balls. The pressure hurt, but the embarrassment was worse as she reached down and cupped them in her hand to spray me underneath. ‘Turn round, feet apart,’ she said. ‘Bend over!’ I felt the powerful jets sting my bottom and then her free hand pulled opened my bum cheeks as I tried to clench them. The fierce little jets hit the sensitive skin around my bum hole and I thought for a moment the water was going to be forced up it. Her fingers probed to make sure the water had cleaned every bit and it felt very strange. Then she turned off the hose, gave me a sudden slap on the bottom and pointed me towards the cabana.

‘Go and dry yourself and then stand in the corner and wait for me’ she said. ‘Hands on head. And don’t let me see you move.’ she called after me.

What was in store for me next on this weird but exciting day?

***

‘Go and dry yourself and then stand in the corner and wait for me’ she said. ‘Hands on head. And don’t let me see you move.’ she called after me.

What was in store for me next on this weird but exciting day?

Readers of Act 1 may recall how Emma, the daughter of an old friend, had come home to house-sit for her mother and invited me to visit for a special treat. She began by nostalgically re-enacting a scene from her childhood when we had both got very wet – but with a slightly different, although just as wet, outcome this time. When she reappeared after we had cleaned ourselves up, without warning she had assumed the persona of the school mistress I had told her about, Miss Smith. With no explanation she had transported me back to my childhood, punished me and held me fixed to a school bench with nothing more than her voice and imagination until, to my utter humiliation, I had been forced to wet my pants like a careless child. Now I stood in the corner of the poolside cabana; naked with ruler welts raised on the back of my thighs, my nose pressed to the wall and my little cock at attention, wondering where on earth this would lead….but too excited to resist being swept along on Emma’s mystery tour…

After what seemed an age I heard her steps coming down from the house, across the deck and into the cabana. She paused – I kept my face firmly to the corner as she came up behind me and traced her fingers across the welts. I could feel her breath ruffle the hairs on my back and her hair brushed my arm as she turned and sat down. The silky touch jerked my little cock erect again – oh dear!

‘Turn round and come here Joe,’ she said in a tone that was not unkind. I turned reluctantly and came towards her. ‘Keep your hands on your head!’ she ordered as her eyes dropped from my face an instant and took in my aroused state. I felt as though my cheeks were on fire from embarrassment but she looked indifferent to that. As I stopped in front of her, my little sticky out willy in line with her face, she raised her hand and gave it a sharp slap. ‘I think one of our first priorities is going to be to train you to control yourself, Joe. I have no doubt we shall succeed.’ My willy had deflated, almost disappeared as I wondered what she meant.

‘Now, sit down on the bench, boy, and sit still. I have spoken with your Aunt and told her about your misbehaviour today and its outcome.’

- My Aunt? I thought. Then I remembered that Emma knew I had been brought up by an Aunt who was quite elderly even then. That was how I first met Emma’s mother, Nina. She was a couple of years older than me and used to earn pocket money looking after me when Auntie was out. She was a lively and strong minded girl and I was a bit of a brat. The first time I was ever pulled over a girl’s lap and spanked was after teasing Nina. And it wasn’t the last time she had done it either. For a while in our late teens we went out together and she still whacked my bottom if she was mad at me – or even just to liven up my performance in other ways… I wonder how much she had told Emma? –

‘She said that you needed more supervision and discipline and I entirely agree. But she said you were supposed to be going away with her for the rest of the week and she really didn’t feel up to coping with you. I suggested you should become a weekly boarder here, starting immediately and she could go away alone and relax. Since the other pupils are away for half term I shall also have more time to concentrate on you.’ There was a wicked gleam in Emma’s (or rather, Miss Smith’s) eyes as she watched my reaction: a mixture of astonishment, excitement and consternation. The thought of spending a whole week with this lovely young woman was wonderful – but could I take the humiliation and punishment I was beginning to suspect she had in mind? Of course I knew I was safe in her hands – underneath the play-acting she was genuinely fond of me and wanted us to have fun. But she was a strong young lady with a very colourful imagination.

‘I explained to her that of course I shan’t be able to supervise you all the time, but luckily there are a couple of girls from the senior school who have been looking for work experience opportunities during the holiday. One is going to teacher training next term and the other is starting to train as a nurse and nanny. Your aunt was delighted so it’s all arranged. Welcome to your first day as a boarder, Joe.’

- Good Lord, I thought. She isn’t really going to bring someone else into our little game? - I was very aware that I was sitting there totally exposed and vulnerable in many ways. - Who were they and what duties and authority might these ‘senior girls’ be given. - But I did not want to break the spell so I nodded weakly and muttered ‘Thank you Miss Smith. Thank you for taking so much trouble. I will try to behave and do my best.’

‘That is what I intend for you as well, Joe,’ Miss Smith said quietly with a smile that conveyed a hint of steel. ‘And now we must get you settled in to the house. But you have no dry clothes,’ she said, glancing around. ‘Ah, rather appropriate considering the circumstances,’ she smiled, picking up a large square white towel from a pile. Quickly she folded it diagonally and laid it over a low bench. Then, taking me by the arm she pulled me up. ‘Stand astride the bench and sit down on the towel,’ she said.

I did as I was told, lowering my bottom onto the middle of the towel, the point of the triangle in front of me. ‘Now lie back,’ she pressed me down on the bench. ‘Botty up,’ she said as she reached to adjust the position of the towel. I arched my back, my little willy inches from her face. – Oh no, it’s starting to stiffen again – But in deft movements she swept the double corner of the towel up between my legs and onto my tummy, brought the left side across my body and the loose end from my tummy down over it, then the right side across and tucked it in by my waist. ‘No nappy pins down here, so that will do for the moment.’ she said tucking the thick material tightly in around my groin and then laying her hand lightly over my willy as she admired her handiwork.

‘In fact, after your performance today I think we may have to carry on with the nappy. We don’t want any wet floors in the house. I shall have to do some shopping. But first we’ll go up to the kitchen and make you some tea. Then it’s early bed for little boys. And you have your first proper spanking to look forward to after tea.’

‘But Miss Smith…’ I started to protest.

‘Oh yes,’ she cut me off. ‘It’s an important introduction to your behaviour improvement training this week. You, young man, are going to have your first taste of what it is like across my knee. By the time you get to bed you are going to wish you had behaved well enough to go away with your Aunt. Now up, boy. Not another word. Straight up to the kitchen! Move!’

Yet again on this dream-like day my thoughts were in a whirl. Dressed only in my ‘nappy’ I walked towards the house with the certainty that within a short time I was going to be across that beautiful knee. Was I scared or excited – I didn’t know, but my throat felt tight with the intensity of the emotion.

***

As we reached the kitchen I was told to wait outside in the hall, facing the wall. ‘I won’t have you in my kitchen for tea in that state of dress – I shall have to find you something,’ she said, heading for the stairs. Soon she came down, walked behind me and dropped the open neck of a top over my head. ‘Arms up,’ she said, and pulled the silky pink top down over me. It was a short, loose nightie that did not quite cover my improvised nappy. ‘Come into the kitchen – let’s see you in the light,’ she giggled. ‘Oh well, it’s not the usual uniform for boys at this school but it will have to do for now. You really look quite sweet as a little girl,’ she teased me. ‘Now sit on that high stool while I prepare your tea.’

She worked swiftly and within a few minutes she came over and placed a large plastic bowl of baked beans in front of me with a plastic spoon. Seeing the disdainful look on my face she mocked me, ‘Now eat up like a good boy. When your bowl is clean you can have prunes and custard.’ The meal was actually quite large and a long way from my usual diet. But I forced my way through it, glancing enviously at Miss Smith as she opened the fridge and poured herself a large glass of chilled white wine. ‘As soon as you have finished that it is bathroom time, then bed,’ she said. ‘You may have your warm milk in your room after we have attended to that other little matter,’ she added. ‘That reminds me…,’ she opened a couple of drawers and then found what she was looking for. She took out a wooden pizza spatula with a long handle and a wide flat spade, drilled through with several holes at the end. She placed it on the counter in front of me. ‘You can carry that up with you, just in case we need it,’ she said, watching me finish the yucky prunes and custard.

As I eyed the implement with some concern she told me to follow her upstairs. As she walked up I caught glimpses of the lacy legs of her bloomers above her slim calves and shapely ankles. Her skirt swirled from her full hips and tiny waist. By contrast I walked awkwardly in the bulky nappy, although actually the feel of the silky nighty was strangely pleasant. The bathroom was large with a big corner bath, a shower in a screened alcove, and a lavatory and bidet opposite. I was given a new toothbrush and told to brush my teeth. While I did so Emma opened the door of a large cupboard, took out some towels and, reaching high up, something else. ‘Ah!’ she exclaimed, ‘I thought so.’ As she turned I saw she held a large plastic potty and had a mischievous grin on her face. ‘Little boys who wet their pants had better sit on the potty before going to beddy bies,’ she said in a teasing tone. ‘Now come along.’ She drew me to a space beside the bidet, put the potty on the floor facing the shower and, with a swift tug at my waist, removed the towel. ‘Down and do your little business, Baby, while Mummy has a shower,’ she said, pressing me down into a squat over the potty. ‘Make sure your aim is good and you hold your pretty nighty out of the way or you will be feeling that sooner rather than later,’ she said, pointing at the spatula I had carried up and placed on the counter.

As I squatted with my bottom on the potty, one hand pushing my willy down into it and the other holding up my nightie, she opened the shower alcove and went in. I could see her shape through the screen. She was undressed and then she flipped her blouse and bra up to hang over the screen, followed by her long skirt. As she stood for a moment in just those bloomers I realised my cock was stiffening and pressing uncomfortably against the inside of the potty. There was no way I could pee let alone do anything else in this state. Perhaps while she was in the shower I could switch quickly to the WC and relieve myself. But she called from behind the screen ‘Joe, come along. Get on with it. I can’t hear any little tinkles. And don’t you dare move from that potty - I can see you.’

With that she stripped off the bloomers, hung them over the screen and stepped into the shower. Perhaps it was the sound of the running water again but after a while I did manage to pee a little into the pot. I hoped that would satisfy her. Then the water stopped, I could see her drying herself. Finished, she turned and reached up to lift a garment from a peg. I gazed longingly at the blurred outline of her gorgeous breasts and the swell of her buttocks above her long legs. I watched her slip on the garment and emerge from the alcove.

***

‘Now, have you managed anything JoeJoe?’ ‘A little bit,’ I replied in a small voice, dropping my eyes.

‘A little bit, Ma’am,’ she said in a warning tone. ‘Well, up you get then and sit on the bidet.’ She picked up the pot and held it under my nose. ‘That isn’t a very good performance, Joe. You are going to have to get used to the potty. We don’t want a lot of dirty nappies to deal with,’ and she turned on the water, spraying me thoroughly before lifting me up and drying me. ‘Yes Ma’am. Thank you, Ma’am.’ I mumbled.

She picked up the spatula, tapped it on her open hand. ‘I trust you can manage to walk to your dormitory without a nappy and stand in the corner while I go away and dress. No puddles?’ she raised her eyebrow sternly. I nodded,’Yes Ma’am’, and followed her down the hall into a small room with two single beds, a chair and table, and a wardrobe. There were mirrored doors on the wardrobe and a large mirror on the wall. As she pointed silently to the corner I saw myself in the mirror, shamefacedly submitting to the commands of this imperious young woman, the nightie not quite reaching to cover my shrivelled little willy or my bottom.

‘Wait there until I come back. Reflect on your behaviour and where it has got you,’ she commanded and left the room.

It was 20 minutes before I heard the clip of high heels. Out of the corner of my eye I could see in the mirror as she entered. She was wearing a black silk dressing gown that hung open and underneath I caught a glimpse of lacy black underwear, her legs in sheeny stockings. She took the chair and sat on it beside the bed.

‘Turn round and come here, Joe,’ she commanded. I turned to look at her and she beckoned me, pointing to the spot in front of her. ‘Now your real training will start, boy. I am going to put you across my knee and give you a thorough hand spanking – something long overdue.’ And she reached out, drew me between her legs and pressed me down onto the bed over her silky left thigh. I felt her right leg cross over mine and her hand dropping lightly onto my bottom. She gently stroked the cheeks, then lightly slapped my inner thighs, making me splay my legs. I felt her hand rise and I clenched my buttocks in anticipation. There was a pause and her hand dropped back softly to my bottom, rubbing it gently. It came to rest on my left buttock. I could feel the tips of her nails lightly scratch the other cheek as her finger tips rested on my nether cleavage. Her left forearm lay across the small of my back, holding me firmly.

‘Joe,’ she said softly. ‘Don’t clench your bottom cheeks like that. I’ve been looking forward to doing this for a very long time and I want to enjoy it.’ She gently circled my bottom again with her hand. ‘I want to see this nice white botty wobble as my hand strikes, start to turn pink as it gets warmer,’ and she gave a playful smack on my right cheek, wobbling it to make sure it was not clenched. ‘That’s better. Of course after a while the pink is going to turn red. The glow will start to burn. And before we now it there may even be some tears. You would be surprised how strong my arm is and how tough this hand can be,’ she said, still rubbing me gently. Then once again she stopped. Her hand rose high, and this time it dropped with force onto my right cheek.

– Ouch! – it stung, but not too badly. I tried to concentrate on relaxing my bottom as she had told me. I could feel the strength of her arm and didn’t want to make her cross. Just a nice little play-spank would end the day well. The hand dropped again, jerking me out of my thoughts. ‘Ow! that was a bit hard!’ I gasped.

‘’A bit hard, Ma’am, did you mean?’ she responded. ‘I have barely started, boy, and you are being discourteous and complaining. Perhaps I had better show you what “hard” is,’ she said as her hand spanked down, just under the curve of my bottom, making me twist in surprise and pain. But she held me securely in place. Again the hand came, starting to cover its target methodically. Again and again. Sometimes rapidly. Sometimes there were pauses as she rubbed my warm bottom and admired her work. The first stinging feeling became dulled and slowly a fire started to rage in my cheeks. I had misjudged how severe this was going to be…

***

She paused for a moment to admire her work, feeling the heat of my bottom with her hand. ‘It’s starting to turn red now, Joe,’ she said. ‘It’s a shame we have to inflict pain to train you to behave. It seems the only thing some boys understand.’ Each time she stopped my hopes rose, then fell. The blows got harder, as though she knew my bottom was getting numb and wanted to cut through that with a fresh sting. I began to feel sorry for myself, ‘Please Ma’am, please,’ I begged. Tears in my eyes, ‘I promise, I promise I’ll try.’ This was not play-acting – I was a small contrite boy driven to tears by the sting of a correcting hand.

At last, with a quick succession of the hardest smacks of the spanking, she stopped. She gently rubbed my bottom and made small soothing sounds. I lay still across her thigh. Her hand caressed and her fingertips brushed me, the sharp nails lightly scraping. As they came into contact with the little area between my cheeks that was not on fire it sent a quiver through me. Every nerve was on edge and I realised that my little thingy, squashed into her silken thigh, was coming to life again. As it stiffened it became ever more sensitive. The hot stretched skin at its tip rubbed on her stockinged thigh, making me press my hips forward with an involuntary thrust. A low moan escaped me.

I prayed she would think it was from the sting of my bottom. I tried to lie still and restrain myself but when her flattened hand pressed against the underside of my bottom I pushed forward again with another moan, then again, pressing my stiff little member into the silk of her thigh. The pressure of her hand seemed almost to guide me and the touch of her thumb lying between my cheeks was exquisite. As my cock moved on the nylon it set up vibrations, waves of sensation, and I could feel the cream gathering in my loins. I had abandoned pretence and started to thrust rhythmically, speeding up and groaning, when the heavy smack cut me short and she rolled me onto the floor at her knees.

‘You disgusting boy! Have you learned nothing? Two minutes after I take pity on you and end your spanking you start behaving like an over-excited puppy humping my leg.’ She glanced down at her stockinged thighs as I knelt before her. We both spied the smears of pre-cream shining on her left thigh. ’You mucky pup,’ she said and, taking me by the hair, she pulled me forward and pressed my face down. ‘Lick it clean,’ she ordered. ‘Every trace.’

My head went down and I started to lick. The salty taste was a mixture of her perspiration and my pre-spurts but the heavenly scent came from the centre of her womanhood, inches from my nose as I finished cleaning her thigh. I longed to bury my head there and breathe in her essence, do homage to her womanhood, on my knees before this young goddess. But her hand in my hair controlled me, pulling me sharply away.

‘I had thought not to introduce you to the paddle today but I obviously expected too much of your ability to assimilate discipline,’ she said, glancing towards the wooden spatula lying on the table. ‘Up on your feet, Joe, and kneel on the bed.’ I jumped up and knelt upright on the bed – my little willy as deflated as my spirits at the swift change of atmosphere. As I looked in the mirror I saw her pick up the spatula, with its long straight handle and paddle end. She moved behind me and I waited, bracing myself. I felt the blade of the paddle between my thighs, ‘Legs apart,’ she commanded, tapping them as I awkwardly moved my knees out. ‘Wide apart!’ she said sharply, emphasising her point with a stinging swat on the inner side of one thigh, then the other. ‘Now bend forward and press your face and chest down on the bed. I want that bottom high in the air.’ Another stinging blow to each inner thigh made me stretch them even wider. With my left cheek pressed into the bed, I saw the scene reflected in the mirrored wardrobe. Emma, standing slightly to one side, caught my glance and a wicked smile flitted across her face. I saw my red bottom raised high, the cheeks stretched wide by my straining thighs. I was totally exposed and vulnerable under her eye. She held the paddle end of the spatula, reaching out the long handle and laying it at the top of my cleft. Very slowly she drew it down between my cheeks, lightly circling my sphincter before giving it a sharp tap and letting the end of the handle rest on the sensitive stretched skin there. In an involuntary movement my bottom pushed up against the slight pressure of the wood. I saw another little smile flit across her face. ‘H’m,’ she murmured thoughtfully, letting the handle slide down until it rested just above the wrinkled skin of my scrotum.

Then she became brisker. ‘You will receive twelve strokes with the paddle. You are to count each one aloud and thank me. After that you will remain in that position until you are told to move. If at any time in the future I tell you to “adopt the position” this what you are to do. Mark it well. And next time it will be a cane, not a paddle.’ The briskness continued. The first blow of the paddle exploded on my upturned bottom. I managed to count and to thank and to say Ma’am – even to hold still. The sting was intense and I could see in the mirror that my bottom cheeks were fast turning from red to purple. But it was soon over and she swiftly left the room. She seemed flushed and excited.

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