The Strap And The Cane For Lucy free porn video

Chapter 1

With the other pupils making their way towards the dining room, Lucy scurried across the polished well-worn floorboards of the entrance hall, her head down hoping against hope that she wouldn’t be noticed. Having almost reached the seclusion of the corridor leading to the Headmaster’s study, Lucy’s hopes were somewhat thwarted as a familiar voice called out to her “You off to see Mainwaring, Lucy?”

Using her soft, shoulder length brown hair as a partial shield for her face, Lucy paused for a moment and looked around at the owner of the voice, a girl named Jennifer Philpott. Jennifer was a year below Lucy and although not the brightest of pupils she was kindly in nature and despite the predicament she was in, Lucy could not bring herself to ignore the girl.

“Yes, I’ve been told to report to the study at 12.15 precisely.” Jennifer gave a sympathetic smile “Good luck, it’ll soon be over,” Lucy attempted a smile in return before continuing her journey to the study now aware that news of her impending punishment had no doubt spread throughout the entire school.

As she arrived at the door Lucy glanced at her wristwatch and took a few deep breaths before straightening her uniform and running her fingers through her hair.

According to the second hand on her watch she had precisely 51 seconds before 12.15 was reached. As those seconds ticked away Lucy whispered to herself, “Okay Lucy, it’s going to be embarrassing and hurt like hell but it’ll soon be over.” With another glance at her watch and a few more deep breaths, Lucy stepped forward and raised her hand giving the door a firm knock.

Nervously she awaited ‘Mainwaring’s’ response. “COME,” he eventually bellowed. The Headmaster, whose real name was Mr. Thompson, bore a striking physical resemblance to Captain Mainwaring of Dad’s Army fame, his abrupt and pompous manner was also not that dissimilar to the television character and unbeknown to him he was frequently referred to as Captain Mainwaring or simply Mainwaring, by most of the pupils in the school and even some of the teachers.

Nervously, Lucy turned the handle and entered the foreboding oak panelled room, the butterflies in her tummy seemingly doing acrobatics as she did so. Mr. Thompson was sat behind his pedestal desk, his chubby hand firmly clasped over the handset of the telephone suggesting that he was in the middle of a conversation.

Peering over his spectacles he snarled. “I have more important things to do than punishing you young lady so get yourself back outside and wait until I’m ready for you.” Despite being of diminutive height, the rotund and follicly-challenged headmaster was capable of casting a shadow of fear over those who were unfortunate enough to get on the wrong side of him.

Lucy quickly retreated and once more occupied the unenviable position outside the study door. There was barely a blemish in the paintwork or a pattern in the floorboards that she wasn’t already familiar with after the hour or so she’d spent earlier in the day in the very same position.

It was a day that Lucy would have given anything to start again. Forgetting her homework book had been the start of her troubles, the embarrassment of being called out to the front of the class by Mrs. Robertson to read out the story she had left at home was bad enough, but the constant goading and name calling from Maggie Maynard which had followed this error was all too much.

Maggie Maynard was vile, with a face that wouldn’t look out of place on a bullfrog, the plump, ginger haired 6th Former had few friends in the school and seemed to get her kicks out of annoying others. Lucy had been a particular target for Maggie’s venom for some while, perhaps it wasn’t that unusual for an ugly girl like Maggie to build a resentment for a popular and beautiful girl like Lucy.

Whatever the differences between the two girls, Lucy had placed herself in the wrong, flicking ink from her Osmiroid fountain pen into Maggie’s face was not one of Lucy’s best moves, especially as some of it had gone in Maggie’s eye.

This whole skirmish had led to Maggie taking a trip to the school’s sick bay to have the ink flushed from her eye while Lucy found herself in Mainwaring’s study being awarded twelve strokes of the strap to be administered during lunch break.

Sitting through an hour of geography before the lunch break had been torment in itself. Trying to identify the characteristics of tropical rainforests and their relationship to the equatorial zone had not been easy for Lucy with her mind preoccupied with thoughts of getting her bottom thrashed with Mainwaring’s fearsome strap.

She had encountered the strap the previous term so she knew what to expect. On that occasion she’d been one of four girls caught larking about in the changing room after PE, they’d each received six strokes on their bare bottoms.

Despite her bottom feeling as though it had been roasted in an oven by the end of the punishment, Lucy imagined this previous encounter with the strap would not compare with the punishment she expected today. If her bottom had felt roasted after six strokes, she could only imagine the horror of twice that number, and getting punished alone just had to be so much more humiliating than being part of a group.



Chapter 2

The wait outside the study seemed like forever, every muffled sound from within leading to the expectation of the door opening and Mainwaring standing there, steely-eyed, ready to usher Lucy in.

In reality Lucy had only been waiting for seven minutes but it was at the very least an agonising seven minutes and in her own mind she welcomed the moment when this dreadful wait came to an end. The sound of the telephone ringing and Mainwaring’s abrupt tones engaged in full conversation, somehow told her she may have to wait a while longer.

As she continued to stand in the seclusion of the corridor, Lucy glanced around to be sure she was alone before slipping her hand beneath her skirt and into her knickers.

Ever since Sixth Form ‘heartthrob’ Matthew Tattersall had told her she had a gorgeous bum a few weeks earlier, Lucy had developed a fascination for her own behind, and as she slid her hand to explore her own delightful contours, she began to imagine the embarrassment of the next morning’s assembly.
If the stunningly handsome and hero worshipped Tattersall had given her bottom his approval, it was likely that her bottom would have reached celebrity status amongst the male pupils. Lucy could only imagine the humiliation of her bottom being brought to the attention of the entire school for a completely different reason this time.

Mainwaring would doubtless position himself at the lectern and conduct his usual solemn announcement following such an event, that a pupil in the school had received corporal punishment the previous day and how much he deplored having to punish pupils in this way.

He’d probably also give the usual spiel about his wife always recognising when he’d had to administer corporal punishment by his distressed and saddened appearance when he arrived home. During her time at the school Lucy had heard many such announcements, but tomorrow it would be the name of Lucy Bately that would echo through the school hall.

Lucy knew she would blush uncontrollably as every pair of eyes in the room would turn to look at her, just for a moment, but a moment that she would perhaps, never forget. Throughout the school she would soon be ‘the girl who got her bum thrashed,’ and would retain that status until someone else took up the mantle.

No doubt Sophie Baker would be pleased, she’d been given 12 of the strap just a week ago, relinquishing her status so soon would no doubt be a relief to her. Lucy could only hope that she wouldn’t have to wait long for someone else to cross the line, if only that someone else could be Maggie BLOODY Maynard she gleefully thought, that enormous, pale arse of hers turned sunset red by a severe thrashing would at least be a step towards justice.

Whatever happened though, Lucy knew that her ordeal would be far worse than the changing room incident, after all there were four of them together, safety in numbers you could say, but this time it was her and her alone.

The aftermath of any punishment was never likely to be a pleasant time, she had witnessed the attention given to Sophie Baker. Despite the questions and taunts from her own year group, the younger pupils were generally the worst, pestering and overly inquisitive, running up in the playground and asking, “Did it hurt?” “Have you got marks on your bum?” “Did you have to take your knickers down?’’ “Did you cry?”

Lucy had followed Sophie out of the school gates a day or so after her punishment as a younger boy being collected by his mother pointed to her saying, “That’s the girl I told you about that got the strap, Mum.”

The hubbub which began to build up from across the hallway interrupted Lucy’s thoughts and indicated that some of the pupils were already leaving the dining room.

Hoping that no one would notice her still waiting, Lucy muttered to herself “Come on Mainwaring, please just let’s get on with this.” But Lucy’s hopes of not being noticed were immediately dashed as on hearing the sound of footsteps approaching from behind she turned to see Jonathan Stevenson skulking down the corridor.

Stevenson was an irritating weasel of a boy in Lucy’s class, “Ha, Ha Lucy you’re going to get your bum thrashed again, serves you right, bet you won’t be able to sit down during double maths this afternoon,” his voice kept low enough to avoid the attentions of Mainwaring.

Despite the churning in her stomach Lucy had no intention of giving Stevenson the satisfaction of knowing she was unduly bothered, and in an act of fake bravado Lucy clutched the waistband of her knickers and swiftly tugged them down before lifting her skirt and giving him a view of her soon to be punished bottom. “Kiss this you creep,” she whispered, “Now piss off you cretin.”

Why she’d exposed her bottom to this vile boy even Lucy didn’t know but there was a lot about this particular day which bordered the surreal.

If presenting her bare backside to her irritating classmate had been intended as a snub, it certainly hadn’t worked as Stevenson, trying to conceal the bulge in his trousers, pursed his lips to make a series of kissing sounds whilst blissfully unaware that Mr. Morgan the science master had walked around the corner and was watching the whole charade.

Hastily adjusting his gown in an attempt to cover the tent pole he too was sporting in his trousers Mr. Morgan sent the boy on his way, “Run along Stevenson unless you also want to have difficulty sitting down during double maths.” “Yes Sir, sorry Sir,” muttered Stevenson as he hastily scuttled off out of the corridor, the threat of getting his own bottom punished enough to instantly deflate his display of excitement.

With her knickers swiftly pulled up, Lucy turned red faced to the master, “I’m sorry Sir, but Stevenson was really annoying me.” Mr. Morgan gave a wry smile and without saying a word stepped by her and knocked the study door.

“COME,” growled the Headmaster. “Oh it’s you Mr. Morgan, I thought it was that wretched Bately girl.”



Chapter 3

With the study door closed, Lucy tried hard to listen to the conversation between Mr Morgan and Mainwaring, but the ever increasing hubbub from the nearby entrance hall as the second lunch sitting began to congregate made this impossible.

Perhaps, thought Lucy, Morgan would say nothing about the incident he’d witnessed, maybe he’d choose to deal with it himself and ask her to meet him in his tutorial study after school where he’d tell her that the view he’d had of her beautiful, sexy, naked bottom had made him realise just how irresistible he found her.

She imagined him slipping her knickers down to sympathetically inspect the result of Mainwaring’s handiwork with the strap, dropping to his knees to kiss her well marked bottom before soothing her soreness with his tongue. Lucy felt a tingle through her body just thinking about this, but despite believing that she was one of Morgan’s favourite pupils, Lucy knew she was just fantasising.

Since Mr. Morgan’s arrival at the school at the beginning of the year, Lucy had developed a crush on the young, teacher. A crush that had become more of an obsession for Lucy when classmate Elaine Bradshaw had established that not only was he not married but wasn’t even dating anyone at the moment.

His good looks and impressive physique had her weak at the knees whenever she saw him, but when he spoke to her in his soft, Welsh tones she almost always wanted to melt.

Most of the male teachers in the school were the typical sports jacketed, leather elbow-pad brigade, but Gwilym Morgan was different and for many of the girls was considered even more desirable than Sixth Form ‘heartthrob,’ Matthew Tattersall.

The click of the door handle and the sight of Mainwaring’s round figure standing in the doorway to his study suddenly brought Lucy back to the reality of the moment. It was a reality that she was trying her hardest to avoid, but as the tubby and vertically challenged headmaster ushered her to stand in the centre of his imposing oak panelled study the fact that she was a young lady about to face the pain and humiliation of corporal punishment was once more totally real.

Gwilym Morgan was stood quite solemnly to the side of the room, if anything looking decidedly uncomfortable. Unable to avoid glancing towards him, Lucy briefly made eye contact with the young science master, but his expression was enough to suggest that Mainwaring was probably fully aware of the incident with Stevenson.

If she had any doubts about this, Lucy didn’t have to wait long for Mainwaring to confirm what she told herself she probably already knew. “Mr. Morgan has told me about the unpleasantness he witnessed on his way back from luncheon.”

Lucy hung her head and looked down at the floor, “Yes Sir, I’m sorry Sir but .........” “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR EXCUSES,” bellowed Mainwaring, cutting Lucy short. .
“I want to see considerable improvement in your behaviour Bately, flicking ink into another girl’s face, displaying your naked buttocks in a public corridor to a male pupil, not to mention to poor Mr. Morgan, using bad language, it’s really too bad, too bad I say!”

Lucy screwed her face up and began to gnaw at her lower lip before trying her best to seek clemency, “I really, really am very, very sorry Sir, I promise nothing like this will ever happen again.”

Without speaking, Mainwaring turned and walked over to the store cupboard in the corner of his study, Lucy had no need for explanation as to what this meant. It was common knowledge throughout the school that Mainwaring kept his ‘instruments of correction’ in there, and in any case she’d had first-hand experience of seeing him liberate the strap from the back of the store cupboard door following the cloakroom incident.

With the strap clutched firmly in his hand, Mainwaring returned to the centre of the room. In truth, the strap was a heavy two-tail Lochgelly tawse. Mainwaring though, was renowned as a man of some pomposity, not dissimilar to his namesake, and insisted that in England, the implement was a strap and if the Scots wished to call it a tawse that was entirely their prerogative.

Lucy had heard this said many times in assembly, each time with some unfortunate pupil being asked to define ‘prerogative’ and another, even more unfortunate, asked to spell the word.

For Lucy though the name of this wicked piece of leather was of no consequence, she knew that whatever it was called it was going to hurt like hell and knowing that she was to be given twice the number of strokes she’d received following the cloakroom incident it seemed entirely logical to expect that this punishment would be twice as painful as the one she’d received the previous term.

As Lucy continued to stand nervously, Mainwaring raised a chubby finger to stroke his moustache, coughing as he did so to clear his throat before speaking. “As you are fully aware Bately, you are to receive twelve strokes of the strap across your naked buttocks for flicking ink into the face of a girl whose only crime is to have the misfortune of being in the same class as you.”

For Lucy it was time to hold her tongue, she so wanted to tell Mainwaring that if there was any justice it would be Maggie BLOODY Maynard that was about to get her buttocks thrashed, but knew that any such outburst would merely lead to extra strokes for herself.

“What you are not yet aware of Bately,” continued Mainwaring, “Is that following the administration of this punishment and a short period to recompose yourself, you will also receive twelve strokes of the cane for your disgraceful behaviour whilst waiting outside this study.”

Lucy’s eyes bulged wide as her mouth formed a near perfect circle, “Oh but please Sir, I don’t think I can take.....” “You’ve given me no choice Bately,” interjected Mainwaring, “Now pull down your knickers and position yourself over the desk.”



Chapter 4

Lucy nervously edged toward the desk slipping her hands beneath her skirt as she did so. In the feint hope of a last minute reprieve Lucy gave Mainwaring a doleful look as she remembered the words of a girl named Tracy Conyon who had held court one break-time in the common room, telling about the time she almost got the cane.

Tracy had told the tale of being bent over the desk with her knickers around her ankles and her skirt flipped into the small of her back as Mainwaring picked up the cane and rested it across the centre of her bottom in preparation for an eighteen stroke caning.

She described how she had picked a fight in the playground after school with a girl named Karen Blake and had thrown Karen’s satchel over the school fence into a private garden. According to Tracy, the following day she was summoned to Mainwaring’s study and sentenced to a caning, but within a whisker of getting thrashed she had pleaded with Mainwaring not to cane her, saying that she would do any amount of detention or litter duty.

Mainwaring apparently pondered before putting the cane down and gave Tracy a week’s detention instead. This girl was though, known for not always being truthful, the part about the fight and the satchel was well remembered and certainly true, as was her doing a long spell of detention as punishment for this, but the chances are the rest was pure fiction.

In fact, no one in living memory had been awarded more than twelve strokes of the cane in one go, so eighteen was pretty much unlikely, but at this moment in time Lucy would have offered a prayer to the tooth fairy if she thought it would help escape a thrashing.

“Please Sir, do I really have to be beaten, can’t I do detention or be put on litter duty instead?” Lucy’s voice wavered as if close to tears, but if there had been an ounce of truth in what Tracy Conyon had said, Mainwaring certainly didn’t give the appearance of a man who was about to change his mind, as he growled, “Over the desk Bately, I’ve got more important things to get on with than punishing you.”

Resigned to her fate, Lucy slid her fingers into the waistband of her knickers and slipped them down her legs before positioning herself over the desk. With her bottom already feeling totally vulnerable, Mainwaring wasted little time in making it more so, by raising Lucy’s skirt and tucking it into its own waistband.

As a normally well behaved and diligent young lady Lucy had never expected to be in this awful position again. The changing room incident had been bad enough, but as a group punishment and with everyone knowing that it was unlikely that Lucy had been the ring leader of this unfortunate event, it had done little to tarnish her reputation.

The events of today though, were a different prospect and Lucy was all too aware that she was likely to earn her stripes in more ways than one, as a fully fledged ‘naughty girl’.

Lucy grasped the far edge of the desk with both hands in preparation for the ‘white knuckle ride’ she was about to endure, but as she did so the momentary silence of the study was broken by Mr. Morgan’s soft tones “Shall I go now, Headmaster?” He asked with an air of discomfort in his voice.

Mainwaring hesitated for a moment before replying, “Err, no Mr. Morgan I’d very much like you to stay.”

For Lucy, the knowledge that Gwilym Morgan was not only getting a prolonged view of her bare bottom but was also going to be witness to her punishment was almost worse than the thought of the punishment itself. She’d fantasised about this attractive teacher from the first day he had arrived at the school, fantasies that she could never dare share with anyone.

As so many girls do when they develop such a crush, she’d found out where he lived, plastered on the makeup and dressed herself in her most revealing clothes before making frequent trips and detours along his street in the hope of catching his eye and dreaming of being invited into his home .

“YOU LOOK LIKE A PROSSIE, LUCY,” Anthony Greenwood, a repulsive obese boy from the year below had shouted out when she passed him in the street one day. “AND YOU LOOK LIKE A FAT SLOB, GREENWOOD,” Lucy had loudly retorted as she hurried along to Church Street, where Gwilym Morgan lived in the flat above the dry cleaner’s.

At this moment in time though, bent over the desk with her backside on full display, Lucy imagined that she would never again be able to look Gwilym Morgan in the eye, let alone fantasise about him. If the ground could swallow her up at this very moment, Lucy would have been more than happy for it to do so, but as Mainwaring positioned himself to her side and offered the strap to her bottom Lucy’s thoughts were quickly redirected.

“Twelve strokes of the strap, count them aloud Bately,” snarled Mainwaring. “Yes sir,” responded Lucy as she hung her head and looked down to focus on the green leather inlay of the desk beneath her in an attempt to blank out any further thoughts of Gwilym Morgan.

Mainwaring tested the strap through the air before taking aim, causing Lucy to flinch before the delivery of the first stroke which landed squarely across the centre of her bottom. Lucy let out a sigh but remained quite still, “One Sir,” The next was aimed a little higher making solid contact with the top of both buttocks “AAAH” responded Lucy as she wriggled her bottom in an attempt to quell the sting..... “Two Sir.”

Another stroke landed almost perfectly between the first two causing Lucy to draw in breath noisily through her teeth “Thr..eeee Sir,” she hissed. Mainwaring appeared to have every intention of getting on with things and applied the fourth stroke almost immediately Lucy had counted out, this time across the lower portion of her bottom. “Ow-Ow, four Sir,“ squealed Lucy.

Although the strap certainly stung, to this point it didn’t feel as excruciatingly painful as Lucy had expected, and she began to wonder whether her previous experience following the cloakroom incident had strengthened her resilience, but as Mainwaring delivered another four strokes which barely gave Lucy time to count aloud between them, she was soon to realise this was no time for complacency.

Despite Mainwaring’s insistence regarding the name of this implement, it was after all, a heavy two-tail Lochgelly tawse and with eight strokes delivered, Lucy’s bottom had become a veritable patchwork of pinks and reds.

With her ‘white knuckle ride,’ well underway, Lucy squeezed the edge of the desk with all her might as she braced herself for the final four strokes.

As the ninth stroke landed on her already challenged bottom the feel of heavy leather as its tails splayed across her soft flesh was close to unbearable, “EE-OW-OW....OH, N,n,..nine Sir, ” shrieked Lucy.

By now, there was little of her bottom that remained unchallenged and as each new stroke overlapped a previous one, Lucy began to struggle. With the tenth and eleventh strokes swiftly dispatched, Lucy near collapsed across the desk, her grip on its edge the only thing stopping her from sliding to the floor.

As she flexed and straightened her legs while tensing and untensing her wounded buttocks, the cleft between them opened and closed in unladylike fashion as she made a futile attempt to reduce the discomfort. “EE-OW-OW....AAAH, OH, OW-OW....eleven Sir,” she cried.

With one more stroke to come Lucy gritted her teeth and once more braced herself. She didn’t have to wait long, before the strap exploded across the centre of her bottom with a resounding crack as leather once more met flesh, and unable to control herself, Lucy thrust herself bolt upright and clutched her bottom with both hands. “OW-OW-OW-OW...OH, OH... that really, really hurt Sir. Sorry Sir, Twelve Sir,” babbled Lucy, trying to make sense amidst her agony.

If her bottom had felt roasted after the six strokes following the changing room incident it now felt positively flame-grilled. Without saying a word Mainwaring went to the cupboard and replaced the strap on the back of the door alleviating any worries Lucy had about getting extra strokes with this wicked piece of leather for clutching her bottom without permission.

After fumbling around for a moment or two Mainwaring returned clutching the much feared senior cane. “Now stand up straight Bately, look to the front and keep your arms to your sides until you are told to do otherwise.”

Lucy had little choice but to do as instructed and knew she must resist the desperate desire to rub her burning bottom. The sight of the cane had truly brought a reality to the next part of her punishment. It was much feared and often talked about, but for a normally well behaved girl like Lucy it was something she had never expected to be personally acquainted with.

She remembered classmate Deborah Abbott, just a few weeks ago, red eyed and with her face tear stained, slipping down her knickers and displaying her bottom to a select few in the girls’ cloakroom after getting caned for swearing during a hockey match against St. Peter’s.

The angry stripes and swellings across Deborah’s buttocks had made Lucy think at the time just how much she hoped that she would never find herself on the receiving end of a caning.

The strap had hurt, it had hurt like hell there was no denying that and as she stood before the desk the throbbing heat of her buttocks was current testimony to this. The cane though, was another prospect and all Lucy could do now was agonisingly await the next part of her punishment.



Chapter 5

Placing the cane on the desk alongside Lucy, Mainwaring picked up his briefcase and began fumbling through it, pausing briefly to look at his wristwatch. “You did say you’d had your luncheon Mr. Morgan?” he said looking up momentarily toward the young teacher.

Gwilym Morgan always found Mainwaring’s outdated use of the word ‘luncheon’ thoroughly irritating. “Yes Headmaster, first sitting,” he eventually replied.


Mainwaring continued to direct his attentions to the contents of his briefcase “Ah, here it is,” he announced in relieved fashion, slipping a small folder part way out of the case and then back into it. “Excellent that you’ve had luncheon Mr. Morgan, that means I can leave the remainder of Bately’s punishment in your capable hands.”

Gwilym Morgan, blushed at this prospect and a look of total shock spread across his handsome face. “You mean you want ME to cane Lucy, Headmaster?” he said with an air of panic in his voice. “Yes Mr. Morgan, she is after all in your tutor group so a caning from you won’t do any harm in ensuring future good behaviour, needs to know where she stands.”

Mainwaring continued fumbling with his briefcase before adding,” Give Bately a few minutes to recover from the strapping and then cane her, I really need to make tracks as there’s a local Headmasters’ meeting at the Priory.” Mainwaring puffed up his chest, always happy to grasp any opportunity to revel in his own self-importance. “I’ve been invited to join them for luncheon at 1.30 so it really wouldn’t do to be late.”

Slipping off his gown and placing his trilby as if to conceal his baldness, Mainwaring tucked his briefcase under his arm and headed out of the door calling back as he did so, “Oh, and Mr. Morgan, when you’re finished with Bately let her compose herself and then send her to the dining room to have her luncheon before returning to class, I’ll tell cook to keep something back for her on my way out.”

Barely had the door closed before Mainwaring opened it again, “Oh, and Mr. Morgan, drop the Yale when you’ve finished in here, I shan’t be back until late afternoon, and Bately report to me before you leave for home today.”

With Mainwaring out of the way, Lucy remained silently in position wondering what Gwilym Morgan would do. She had always found him easy to talk to, more like a friend than a teacher, so different to most of the others, but then she’d never before been stood with her soundly strapped bare bottom on full display as she awaited twelve strokes of the cane from him.

Lucy watched as Gwilym Morgan went over to the window and carefully eased apart the slats of the venetian blind to glimpse Mainwaring’s car heading out of the gates.

“Well Lucy, this doesn’t seem to be one of your better days, does it?” said the young teacher as he turned back from the window. Lucy hung her head, ”Oh but Sir, please don’t cane me, I’d feel so embarrassed being caned by you, it would be bad enough being caned by Mainwaring but, well, he’s just Mainwaring, so it wouldn’t be anywhere near as bad as being caned by you Sir.”

Gwilym Morgan smiled to himself, he was fully aware of Lucy’s obsession with him, only a few weeks earlier 6th Form gossip Amy Prescott had come up to him, “Mr. Morgan, do you know that Lucy Bately really, really, really, fancies you Sir. Do you fancy her Sir?”

Morgan had blushed at this inappropriate enquiry hoping that strange little Amy hadn’t noticed. Despite his good looks he’d never been overly confident around females of any age, and he was fully aware that his career as a teacher would be very short-lived if he shared even the tamest of the fantasies he’d had about Lucy with anyone.

In truth, he most certainly did fancy Lucy and in the privacy of his home, the beautiful 18 year old had played a starring role in many of his masturbatory fantasies. Put crudely, Gwilym Morgan had wanked himself senseless, time and time again to thoughts of Lucy Bately in all manner of scenarios, but to his inner embarrassment the fantasies that focused on her shapely bottom getting spanked and caned were the ones that had truly sent him into total ecstasy.

As Lucy continued to stand as Mainwaring had ordered, the sight of the crook handled senior cane lying on the desktop was a constant reminder of what she would soon face. With the initial burning from the strap having somewhat mellowed to a more tolerable level of soreness she was ready to face her caning and if nothing else, just get it over with.

Perhaps Mr. Morgan would be gentle with her, Mainwaring had a reputation with the cane and many of those who had endured a caning from him had described the ferocity of his strokes. The angry stripes and swellings she had witnessed across Deborah Abbott’s buttocks just a few weeks ago had certainly been testimony to this.

Behind Lucy’s view, Gwilym Morgan’s eyes were drawn to her naked bottom, the wonderful interwoven pattern of colours, with the pinks and reds now sporting the addition of blossoming purple borders where the edge of the strap had cut into her delightful soft flesh triggering a growing arousal within his trousers.

At this moment in time though, Gwilym Morgan so wished he hadn’t told Mainwaring about the incident outside the study with Stevenson, and even though Lucy may well have deserved extra punishment for what she had done he was all too aware that part of him had wanted Lucy to get the cane, if only to add further fuel to his fantasies.

Witnessing her strapping was one thing, but being the one who actually had to cane Lucy was a world apart from his private thoughts.



Chapter 6

Gwilym Morgan picked up the cane, “Are you ready for this Lucy,” he asked flexing the cane between his hands. Lucy slowly turned her head to look at him. “Yes Sir, I suppose so.” Her voice seemingly resigned to what was about to happen.

Part of Lucy hoped that Gwilym Morgan would tell her that he would let her go, that no one would know that he hadn’t caned her, it could be just their secret, but as these thoughts drifted through her mind the young teacher soon dashed them, “I really wish I wasn’t having to do this Lucy, I’m not going to say that this will hurt me more than it will hurt you, that’s just a ridiculous cliché, but what I will say is that this is just as uncomfortable for me as it is for you.”

Lucy nodded her head “I understand Sir, and I’m truly sorry for the trouble I’ve caused today.” Gwilym Morgan smiled, despite the pleasures of his private fantasies, caning Lucy for real was a completely different thing and he had actually considered letting her go if she promised to keep it a secret, but although Mainwaring was many things he was also a stickler for detail and it was unlikely he would complete the entry in the punishment book without first conducting an inspection of Lucy’s bottom.

Gwilym Morgan knew that he had no choice but to give Lucy the prescribed number of strokes at the appropriate level of severity to ensure that the weals across her buttocks showed that she’d been properly caned.

Gwilym Morgan stepped into position to the side of Lucy and offered the cane to her bottom, “You’re a beautiful, bright young lady Lucy and I’m pleased to have you in my tutor group, but right now I regrettably have to say that I need you to bend over for your caning.”

Lucy gave a low gasp before slowly leaning forward and grasping the far edge of the desk tightly between her fingers, somehow the thought of the young teacher saying she was beautiful, enough to generate a secret smile as she did so. Although her skirt remained tucked into its own waistband the inevitable wriggling from her strapping had caused it to loosen a little, so before proceeding Gwilym Morgan tucked it in a little further.

Gently tapping the cane against Lucy’s offered bottom he asked, “Have you ever been caned before Lucy?” Lucy slowly shook her head before adding, “No Sir, I haven’t, I’ve only ever had the strap.”

“Okay Lucy, twelve strokes, count them out please.” Lucy nodded. Without delay Gwilym Morgan raised the cane and brought it down firmly across the centre of Lucy’s bottom. “Ow,” cried Lucy before responding with a calm, “One Sir.” Although the senior cane was quite stout in appearance it was made from supple rattan and capable of wrapping around the contours of the buttocks with ease.

Raising the cane for the second stroke, the young teacher brought it down parallel to the first and struck the lower portion of Lucy’s buttocks. Lucy jolted back and drew breath through her teeth before responding “Two Sir, Oh that really stung Sir.”

Pausing for a moment as Lucy wriggled back into position Gwilym Morgan once more addressed her bottom with the cane before raising it and delivering another firm stroke to her already challenged flesh. “AAH, AHH! Oh Sir, it hurts so much more than the strap.....three Sir.”

The already colourful landscape of Lucy’s bottom now began to display the unmistakeable raised weals of the cane as Lucy attempted to pant away some of her anguish. The sound of the cane cutting through the air caused Lucy to flinch as the fourth stoke descended on her bottom. The burning bite that ignited as the cane drew a line across the part where buttock and thigh merge caused Lucy to shriek, “Eee-ow-ow-ow!

Oh that was the top of my legs Sir, OW-OW, four Sir.” Gwilym Morgan lowered the cane and placed his hand across the swollen ridge which immediately blossomed at the top of Lucy’s thighs. “You need to keep still Lucy, if you move about it’ll make it worse for you.”

The young teacher smoothed his hand across this wound before stroking the challenged contours of her buttocks. Lucy groaned, but not a groan of anguish, this was a groan of pleasure and if it took a caning to feel the touch of Gwilym Morgan’s hand on her bare flesh, at this moment in time she was happy to succumb.

From her bent over position the glistening lips which peeped between her thighs was enough to suggest that Lucy was not finding this caning an altogether unpleasant experience.

Two more strokes swiftly followed and painted stripes across the higher part of Lucy’s bottom, “OW-AH-OW” she cried rocking from foot to foot, “OH, six S-Sir.” she squealed as the halfway point was reached. Gwilym Morgan stepped back, if a few moments before, Lucy’s cunt lips had been glistening they were now positively dripping and as a strand of nectar stretched down between her legs before breaking free and landing on the floor the young teacher was thankful that his gown at least partly shielded the view of the growing bulge in his trousers.

Lucy was more than aware of her own embarrassing display and near strained herself trying to draw her cunt lips together in an attempt to quell the flow. Gwilym Morgan chose not to comment, he had no desire to further embarrass Lucy and decided that the best thing to do was to get the remainder of her punishment over with swiftly.

“Okay Lucy, six more strokes and your caning is over.” Lucy nodded as the young teacher refocused on the bottom displayed in front of him. “No need to waste time counting the strokes, I’m sure you want this over as quickly as possible.” Lucy remained silent, her inner embarrassment at such inappropriate arousal had made her lost for words.

Drawing the cane back, Gwilym Morgan once more brought it down firmly across the centre of Lucy’s bottom causing her flesh to ripple on impact. Lucy arched her back in an effort to quell the agony of the stroke. “EE-OW!” she shrieked, but almost before the echo of her cry had faded from the room the next stroke landed high on her bottom. The white stripe it painted on her already challenged bottom soon flushed deep red as Lucy’s grip on the edge of the desk tightened, showing near white knuckles as she contorted her bottom wildly. “OUCH! OUCH!..OUCH!.. Oh that really hurt Sir” she cried.

Raising the cane again the young teacher delivered another hard stroke to the lower part of her bottom. “OW..OW..OW” squealed Lucy. Any attempt she had made to protect her modesty was to no avail as her wetness now visibly coated the inside of her thighs.

With three further strokes remaining, Gwilym Morgan wasted little time, swiftly dispatching the next two in quick succession. “OW-OW-OW, Oh Sir, my bottom really hurts Sir” she shrieked. “One more to go Lucy,” announced the young teacher allowing her a moment to regain her composure before offering the cane to the lower portion of her bottom.



Lucy screwed up her face as she awaited this final challenge, she was aware from others who had experienced the cane that the final stroke was always the hardest, and curiously she braced herself in the hope that this was true. As the cane landed low down on her buttocks the sound of its impact echoed around the study like a pistol shot, Lucy contorted her bottom wildly and thrust her head back. “Eee-ow-ow-ow-ow-ah-ow” she wailed.

As Gwilym Morgan stepped back and lowered the cane he gave her permission rub her bottom

Lucy frantically set about attempting to quell the pain. Turning to face the young teacher “My bottom feels like it’s on fire Sir,” she muttered, her voice wavering as if close to tears.

It was clear to see that each cane stroke had certainly left its print, angry raised weals adorned her cheeks and certainly added an erotic touch to the pattern created by Mainwaring’s strap.

Lucy turned to look at Gwilym Morgan, if the womanly juice which had emerged from her pussy had indicated that she had found a perverse pleasure in being caned by the handsome young Welshman, the bulge in his trousers suggested that he too had found forbidden pleasure in the act of caning her.

“I think it’s time to drop the Yale Mr Morgan,” whispered Lucy with a grin. With the door to the study locked, Lucy slowly undid the young teacher’s trousers tugging them and his underpants down his legs as she dropped to her knees.

Holding his throbbing manhood in her hand she began to stoke it, gently running a fingernail along it’s seam as she did so. The young teacher began to groan as Lucy continued to work him gently, offering her tongue to the swollen tip of his cock licking him with a mind-blowing circular motion.

Grasping his buttocks firmly with both hands, Lucy drew his hardness into her mouth, sucking him deep.

Whatever ‘luncheon’ Mainwaring had told cook to keep back for her, Lucy knew it would in no way compare with the meal she was enjoying at this moment.



THE END