Tuesday, 20 December 2011

Tom's School Days 13

Here it is, the next instalment of Tom's story. This will be the last one for this year, but I will be back in 2012, with Tom, Stephanie, Amanda, and all the rest. Take care, be kind to yourselves, have a very merry Christmas, Dear Readers.

'Stand up, my dear,' John said, and Tom watched in stunned amazement as Stephanie rose to her feet. Despite the situation she did it with grace, as if her body naturally expressed a knowledge that she was worth looking at. She let her arms hang by her side and made no effort to cover herself.

'I thought...' Tom stammered.

'Ah, you thought that you had locked the door and no one would bother you?'

'I suppose,' he replied.

'Thing is, Tom, it is Tom, isn't it? that you forgot something.'


'There is a slate in the common room where you write down when you take the key to the Tower. Writing your name makes us know it is occupied. No one will disturb you. As it is, the Tower could have been empty.'

'Drat!' Stephanie whispered.

'Furthermore,' John, said, 'there is no note about you taking somewhere there, either.'

'I am really sorry,' Tom said.

'As you should be.'

'What will happen now?'

'Don't worry, Tom, this is a minor infringement, no need for a punishment.'

'Oh, thank you, I won't do it again.'

'I am sure you won't.'

Then silence fell. John stood looking at Stephanie, a smile on his face, his eyes burning. Stephanie was standing, erect, proudly, still very naked. Tom, on the other hand, was slowly rising from the armchair.

'The girl, on the other hand,' John said, and Tom turned to Stephanie who turned to him, their eyes meeting for a brief and worried moment.

'What about Miss Burns?' Tom said.

'I'll come to that,' John said, 'but first something more pleasurable. Turn around.'

Stephanie turned slowly. Tom say John raise his eyebrows as her bottom came into view.

'It's the talk of the school, you know. You do have a talent for this.'

'Well, thank you,' Tom felt how he blushed.

There were still marks on Stephanie's bottom, although her bottom had started to heal.

'God was in a good mood, when he created you,' John said, still smiling, as Stephanie turned her face towards him again. 'But you being here calls for a punishment.'

'But surely,' Tom said, 'it's not her fault that I forgot to write it down.'

'No, but that doesn't matter.'

'Doesn't it?'

'No, this calls for a punishment.'

Stephanie remained silent throughout.

'I think,' John continued, 'that this bottom is not yet fit for a proper punishment. I think we will have to think of something else.'

'What could that be?' Tom asked. He felt that he was responsible for the whole thing and should try to make it as easy for Stephanie as possible.

'The only thing I can think of is that Miss Burns join the Pea Soup Society.'

'The Pea Soup Society!?'

'You know what it is, don't you?'

'Yes, yes, of course.'

'She has the body for it, it will be a delight. You know we have Soup Night, coming up?'

'Yes, I know.'

Friday, 16 December 2011

Car Trip

And now a short break in the ongoing story about Tom and his girls. I will be back with next instalment soon, but this is a short something I just wrote. I publish it here, warts and all.

It was a hot day, and I had to stand in the sun while I was waiting for him. I had dressed for the day, but it didn't really help. I felt too clothed for the weather, yet I was still wearing a bit too little for being quite appropriate while being seen. My sleeveless and striped top was tight, too tight, really. And my shorts were too small. I felt silly, and wondered why had taken them. I knew why. I knew I had done it because I knew he liked it that way. That was rather kind of me.

'Get in the car,' he said, as he stopped beside me. My heart had started beating the moment I saw him approach. He smiled. I smiled too, and suddenly I was excited about going away with him.

He didn't say much as he took us through the crowded street of the city centre. He looked at me from time to time and smiled. I became quite self conscious about him looking at me, at the same time it was not altogether an awkward sensation.

'Take your knickers off,' he said, suddenly.


'Unless you would prefer I stop the car and you step out.'

'We're still in the middle of town.'

'I know.'

'And I am wearing shorts.'


I knew that look on his face. He meant what he said. I wasn't exactly scared of it, but I knew he was determined to have me do as I was told. There was a certain inevitability about it. It made my heart race.

He had had me do the same before, but that time I was wearing a skirt. It was much easier then.

I looked at him, again, and knew I would soon be sliding my shorts down my legs. I started by unbuttoning them. I looked around and thought that I could delay it a little, wait for a less crowded street, a place where he would drive the car in a little bit higher speed.

When I knew I had already waited to long, I began wriggling them down my hips, and had got them to my knees when he stopped. There was a red light. People were standing to the side, waiting to walk across in front of the car.

'Go on,' he said, smiling.

I slipped my shorts down and took them off. I waited a little, for the light to turn green.

'You don't want to take too long with that,' he said. And I knew exactly what he meant.

I lifted my bottom and pulled my knickers down, at the same moment as the car gained speed.

'In the glove compartment,' he said, and I knew he meant my knickers. I was somehow relieved I didn't have to throw them out of the window.

'What are you doing?' he said, as I reached for the shorts.

'Putting my shorts back on.'

'Did I say that you could?'

'You didn't say I couldn't.'

'Putting them on is dressing.'

'I suppose you are right.'

'And you know what the rules are for dressing.'

'Always ask permission.'


'Can I put my shorts on, please?'


'We're in the middle of town, and this car is moving very slowly.'

'The answer is no.'


'Don't cross your legs!'


'Keep them parted, instead.'

He put his hand on my thigh at the same time as I cautiously parted my legs, just a little. He turned to me and smiled.

'Look at the road,' I said.

He chuckled, and let his hand move up my thigh, and then down, on the inside.

'People will be looking,' I said.

'The women will be envious, and the guys will be envious too.'

I found it hard to comment, as his hands moved up the inside of my thigh. I looked up and saw him looking forward, smiling. Then I heard myself gasp as his fingers moved inside. I held my breath as I felt his fingers begin to snake and move.

'You do like this,' he said.


'Don't lie to me, you know what happens when you lie.'

'I am not lying.'

'Some part of you likes it.'

Occasionally he retrieved his hand to change gear, but it always returned to its place. Sometime he just kept his fingers still, and sometimes he moved them about. I never knew what would happen next.

I didn't want to give in to the fire his intruding fingers lit. I looked out of the window, trying to focus on the road signs, on the people on the street, or how the buildings around us were constructed.

'There is something in the back seat. It's for you,' he said.

'I'll look at it later,' I replied.

'Don't sulk.'

'I'm not sulking.'

'Look at it.'

I turned round to reach for the plastic bag that was lying on the back seat. He didn't remove his hand, and I got the distinct impression that anyone standing by the road would get a very good look at what was happening.

'You are embarrassing me,' I hissed, as I sat back.

'Yes, I know. I like that. Open the bag now.'

I opened the bag. In it was a leather object. A handle, covered in braided leather, that softened into a short braided tongue, that got thinner and thinner towards the tip. It was a robust thing, quite short, and didn't look like anything I had seen before. I had no doubt, though, that it was some kind of whip.

'A quirt,' he said, 'I have bought you a quirt.'

'And I assume that it is not mine in the sense of me using it?'

'Of course not. I am going to use it,' he said, and smiled, '...on you.'

'What have I done?'

'Nothing much, really. I just wanted to use it.'

'It looks harsh.'

'I think it will be. I am looking forward to it.'

He moved his fingers inside me, and I jumped. The whip, being half naked, his fingers, all seemed to conspire to send a wave of something pleasant, although quite unwelcome through my body.

'You are looking forward to it too.'

'I'm not.'

'Yes, you are.'

'Don't be daft.'

'Truth to be told, if you like it too much, it's not the same.'

'Don't worry, this one looks mean.'

I held the dreaded thing, still in my hands.

'Take your top off now.'

'I can't do that.'

'Maybe this will be a good pretext for using it. The quirt on your soft bottom for disobedience.'

I looked around and found that we had come up on the highway. The cars moved faster, and were further away, but not far enough for other drivers not to notice if I was wearing a top of not.

'Should I really take my safety belt off?'

'You could always try without taking it off.'

'That's awkward.'

'Your choice.'

'I have no bra.'

'Yes, I know.'

I managed, somehow, to extract my top from my body, without taking the safety belt off. As I sat back, I felt the coarse fabric of it pass between my breasts. I looked out through the window. I didn't think the oncoming traffic would have time to notice too much, they were far away, but the ones we passed and those who passed us would surely notice.

'Do you enjoy it?' he said.

'Enjoy what?'


'Being naked in your car, on a public road, while you have your fingers inside me, knowing that I will taste a brand new whip in a not too distant future?'


'I am embarrassed.'

'That's not what I asked for.'

'If I enjoy it?'

'Yes. I know you are embarrassed, I know you are a bit apprehensive about the quirt. I know you are awkward, but do you enjoy it?'

'Do I have to answer that?'

'Yes, please, do answer.'

I sat for a while, staring out through the window. His fingers were not still, and stayed longer now when there was less need to change gear. I held it back, but those fingers were very persistent. There would come a moment when I no longer wanted to hold back, when I wanted to go forward, when I would beg him to let me go forward.

'Yes, I enjoy it.'

Wednesday, 14 December 2011

Tom's School Days 12

My ambition is to post an instalment of Tom's story once a week, but now it is almost two weeks. I am very sorry for that. Anyway, here is the twelfth part of the story. No floggings, but some other things, perhaps, that may cheer you up in the darkness of winter, unless you are antipodean and then you are in the middle of summer and need no cheering up, at least not on behalf of the season. Never mind.

'No bed,' Stephanie said and looked around, 'we'll have to manage without.' She smiled. 'Take that armchair.'

Tom sat down in one of the armchairs, looked around in amazement at the room, and then turned his gaze at Stephanie, who hadn't joined him, but remained standing.

'What are we doing here?' Tom asked, 'really?'

'You are really sweet,' Stephanie replied and began unbuttoning her white shirt, 'you know that, don't you?'

'If someone comes?' Tom gasped but could not stop staring at Stephanie, as she was done with the unbuttoning, and slipped the shirt from her shoulders.

'You locked the door.'

'If there is another key?'

'I don't think there is another key.'


'Don't worry,' she said and slipped her bra from her.

'Perhaps,' Tom stammered, 'perhaps it doesn't matter.' Tom's eyes were fixed on Stephanie's bosom that was now fully on display. He didn't express it in words but his eyes told her that hers was the most glorious bosom he had ever set his eyes on.

Encouraged by the light in his eyes, she stood for a while and let herself be admired. Had she ever doubted her beauty Tom's reaction made it clear to her that she had the ability to impress.

Still smiling she slipped off her skirt and her knickers. Tom blushed and stared, fighting with an impulse that told him that it wasn't quite proper to fix his eyes on certain parts of Stephanie's anatomy in the way he did.

The now quite nude Stephanie approached Tom and knelt before him. He had a vague idea in his head that he should protest as her hands reached out to release his member. There was no protest, no argument, when she proceeded to embrace his proud warrior with her lips.

Quite soon, Tom, had completely stopped thinking of reasons why he should not enjoy the attention given to his friend, and the fact that he had a completely naked Stephanie to look at.

It was in this moment of bliss disaster struck. The timing was terrible. Tom was just about to reap the fruits of Stephanie's labour when the door was flung open.

'What have we here?' a mocking voice boomed.

'No!' Tom cried out in agony.

'Hell!' Stephanie whispered the moment her lips were free to form words.

Tom turned towards the voice and saw that it belonged to John, a member of the Mushy Peas Club, a senior of Tom's, and a friend of Mark's. The moment he got hold of the situation he sat himself bolt upright and tried desperately to replace his attentive warrior in his trousers.

Stephanie had in the meantime begun to move towards her clothes that lay in a heap on the floor.

'No, stay where you are,' John said, and Stephanie did. She remained on her knees, although her hands moved to cover herself.

'Don't do that, my dear,' John said, 'I don't mind the privilege of resting my eyes on your assets.'

'My assets,' Stephanie hissed under her breath.

Friday, 2 December 2011

Tom's School Days 11

I know, I have taken a lot of time with this instalment. The story is there, but I just haven't had time to post...or something. Anyway, I have put in a picture to cheer you up, completely unconnected to the story, but does anyone care?

'If I can help you, of course,' Tom said, wondering what Amanda had in mind.

'That would be a blast.'

'What club is this?'

'Oh, it's kind of new, you've probably never heard of it. We are only five members, yet. It's called The Society for the Study of Geographical Maps.'




'Kind of,' she said, and smiled in a way that made Tom curious. 'We even have a small place in the Dungeon, and we meet on Tuesdays. Please come on our next meeting.'

The Dungeon was the student's name for the basement. The school had an extensive basement, with cellars for wine and archives, and all sorts of storage. There were also a number of rooms that were used for clubs and societies that had no permanent place to reside.

'If you want me to,' Tom said, feeling quite stupid, a little vexed, believing he had been tricked into something he had no desire to do.

'You won't regret it,' Amanda said with that smile on her face that seemed to suggest that she had something in mind. 'Thank you, thank you, you are such a biscuit.'


'Girl language,' she said and giggled.

She put her arms around him, kissed him on his cheek. Then she stopped, seemed to hesitate, only to plant a kiss on his lips. She withdrew, blushing. When he turned to her, she stood up.

'Thank you, again. See you in Tuesday.'

She dashed off.

The next day was Friday, and as Tom was walking across the quad in the sunshine, just after lunch, Stephanie caught up with him.

'You are free now,' she said. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

'Yes, until two.'

'Me too.'

'Are you?'

'Yes. We have a whole hour we can do whatever we want with.'

'Whatever we want?'

'Yes. You are in the Club now, aren't you?'

'Yes,' Tom replied, hesitating.

'It means you have access to the key to the Tower, right?'

'Yes, I suppose.'

'Get it, and meet me outside the door.'

She rushed away.

The Tower was really a tower, and it stood at the corner of the Annexe, the building where the Mushy Peas Club had their rooms. It was locked but with the key you could go there and take someone with you, someone you wanted to spend sometime alone with.

Tom got the key, and found Stephanie at the door. The key was heavy and big and made Tom think of medieval times. The Tower wasn't that old, but built to make you believe it could be from the Middle Ages.

Inside he locked the door behind them and they both climbed the winding stair to the top. They passed some doors leading to chambers on the way, but they headed for the topmost room.

It was circular, and had windows in all directions. The floor was made of grey flagstones, in the same colour as the stone walls. The chamber looked ancient, but was well kept and clean. A dinner table with six high backed wooden chairs stood to the side, and beside one window could be found a sofa, two armchairs, and a low table.