Miss Elsa Svenson

Spanking & Caning in London with Miss Elsa Svenson

 
 

2012 Story Competition first entry by Peter!

I was on my way to Miss Sven­son because I felt I need­ed to be remind­ed of my man­ners in pub­lic. I have this prob­lem that I love to look up ladies’ skirts and feast my eyes on their stock­ing tops and their thighs and pants (what colour are they?). I do not blame myself for this desire in itself; after all it’s nat­ur­al, isn’t it? The race would not sur­vive if men did not lust after women; and that par­tic­u­lar sight is a big turn on.

But, of course, I realise that women dis­like it as there is so much more that one ought to con­sid­er, and cher­ish, in a woman’s per­son­al­i­ty than mere­ly lust­ing after her per­son. But men are inher­ent­ly crude; well, I am. This is why I go to Miss Sven­son. I hope her atten­tion to my bare bot­tom will remind me of my duty to keep my eyes to myself. She is the best, the set­ting is styl­ish, the music clas­si­cal and soft.

So there I was on the train, sit­ting on the seats that go along the length of the train, not across. This is a dan­ger­ous posi­tion for me as girls oppo­site with very short skirts are not always care­ful and I get a view I ought not to seek or to have. The train was pret­ty emp­ty; it was near noon on a warm day.  Oppo­site me sat a lady, smart­ly dressed in styl­ish suit, jack­et and match­ing skirt to the knee; not a pen­cil skirt but one of those pleat­ed ones – it was very pret­ty and to my taste.

She gath­ered togeth­er her things, a hand­bag and a shop­ping bag, and was obvi­ous­ly going to get off at the next stop as was I. I do not know exact­ly what hap­pened but she stum­bled as she was stand­ing up. Per­haps her shoe caught some­thing or she tilt­ed her ankle. Any­way, she fell to her knees and her skirt caught the seat’s arm­rest and was pulled up, expos­ing her thighs and her black stock­ings and her briefs – very brief they were too. As I was also get­ting up at the same time I was quite close to her and of course could do noth­ing but try to catch her and help her up. I caught her elbow with one hand and her waist with the oth­er and lift­ed her to her feet. She looked up at me with grat­i­tude in her eyes but then I looked at her legs, which are very shape­ly, the stock­ing tops, the white thighs and her pink briefs. I longed to kiss those thighs. I looked for a sec­ond too long and my feel­ings of pure lust may have shown on my face. Her expres­sion became very severe as I saw when I glanced back at her eyes. All con­fu­sion, I hasti­ly tried to unhitch her skirt and pull it down but she pushed me away, smooth­ing her­self down with an ele­gant sweep of her hand. She had, I noticed, a very cur­va­ceous figure.

I’m so sor­ry,” I said but she turned away and walked down the car­riage and out of the door as soon as the train stopped. I fol­lowed but not close­ly as I did not want to fright­en her. She might have thought me a stalk­er or some­thing. I lost sight of her and put the episode from my mind. I was too ear­ly for my appoint­ment, so stopped and had a small espres­so to kill some time and get into a prop­er frame of mind for my inter­view with Miss Svenson.

I stood in front of Miss Svenson’s door and took a deep breath, psych­ing myself up for what was to come. No doubt Miss Sven­son was going to be very severe with me as I did not seem to learn my les­son for very long. It was only a short time since I had been to her with the same prob­lem. I rang. The door opened noise­less­ly and Miss motioned me in with a sharp glance of her eyes. “Go through,” she said in a strict tone. I did so and had the shock of my life for stand­ing at the fur­ther wall was the lady from the train.

Miss Pren­der­gast is here to observe pro­ceed­ings” said Miss Sven­son fol­low­ing me into the room. She saw us star­ing at each oth­er and realised we were acquaint­ed in some way.

This is the man on the train I was telling you about,” said Miss Pren­der­gast. “The one who had the imper­ti­nence to gaze at my under­wear when it was acci­den­tal­ly exposed. I am extreme­ly glad that there was no one else on the train who saw. I must say though, I shall do more than mere­ly observe – oh yes, a lot more! When you have fin­ished with him I’ll teach him to lust after me.” The room swayed a lit­tle as I realised what I was in for.

Undress as usu­al,” com­mand­ed Miss Sven­son. “I shall deal with you first. Then Miss Pren­der­gast will have her turn at civil­is­ing you. Stand in the cor­ner when you are ready.” She bus­ied her­self col­lect­ing the instru­ments she need­ed for the task, a range of straps and pad­dles. I shiv­ered in antic­i­pa­tion, undressed and went to the corner.

The ses­sion with Miss Sven­son went as usu­al, start­ing with four dozen hand spanks while I was over her knee and con­tin­u­ing with the var­i­ous imple­ments includ­ing her favourite split strap, the tawse, which has been men­tioned in her blog. In between each of the instru­ments, the pad­dles etc, came more OTK hand spank­ing. Each spanker was com­bined with a dif­fer­ent stance; some­times I was bent over a chair, some­times I had to stand up straight. Even this thrash­ing, how­ev­er, did not stop me admir­ing Miss Prendergast’s fig­ure and espe­cial­ly her legs, long and ele­gant. In between each ses­sion I had the oppor­tu­ni­ty to look at her, side­ways out of low­ered eyes of course. If she had seen me I shud­der to think what she would have done. My but­tocks would have been pur­ple not just red.

It all cul­mi­nat­ed in a dozen strokes of the cane. I did notice, how­ev­er, that the sever­i­ty of all the blows, by what­ev­er means, had increased a lot from pre­vi­ous appoint­ments. The two ladies had obvi­ous­ly been dis­cussing my behav­iour and grave­ly dis­ap­proved of it.

Indeed, Miss Pren­der­gast inter­ject­ed her opin­ions as to how hard each blow should be and exact­ly where on my bot­tom. She sat oppo­site us while I was OTK and could see areas that were not as red as they might be. Final­ly, in order to try to obtain a breather, I apol­o­gised as abject­ly as I could to both, Miss Pren­der­gast for not avert­ing my gaze from her beau­ty while we were in the train and Miss Sven­son for not learn­ing my les­son quick­ly. I hoped they would give me five min­utes to recov­er a bit. They did not.

As soon as Miss Sven­son had fin­ished the last, hard­est stroke Miss Pren­der­gast poured some sooth­ing oil over my bot­tom and rubbed it in. She then took up anoth­er cane, a more severe one. “As you are in the prop­er posi­tion over that sofa arm for a can­ing I’ll start with that,” she said, “I may give you more strokes at the end.” She suit­ed the action to the word and gave me six more at what was obvi­ous­ly her max­i­mum strength. Of course, I had to thank her for each stroke and count them, which I took care to do as I did not want to increase the length of the pun­ish­ment at that point. She also liked me to beg for the next stroke and again I oblig­ed, although I had to do so with a qua­ver in my voice as I strug­gled to absorb the pain. Striv­ing though I was to com­ply with her orders and accept the much deserved pun­ish­ment, I had to admire the sym­me­try of her pro­ce­dure. She reversed the order of the instru­ments that Miss Sven­son used; the tawse, a cou­ple of pad­dles and a strap, all used just as strong­ly and putting me in the same pos­ture. She did not, how­ev­er, have me over her knee for hand spank­ing between each instru­ment. It was clear that the last thing was to be the OTK spank. I looked at her arms and hands; the arms were well mus­cled as I realised also from my sting­ing bot­tom, and her hands were small. This meant the impact area on my but­tocks would be small and so the smack more con­cen­trat­ed, the pain increased. OTK spank­ing is both my best and worst thing. I love the humil­i­ty, and the inti­ma­cy, of the posi­tion but the agony can be worse. I feared it would be this time. “OTK now,” she said, “I’ll give you four dozen on each buttock.”

The trou­ble was as Miss Pren­der­gast sat on the upright chair she lift­ed her skirt to her waist and then bade me bend over her knee. It wasn’t fair.

 

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