‘Now, Jenny,’ she said, soothingly, ‘has that taught you a good lesson?’
‘Yes, mistress,’ came the muffled voice from the desktop, sniffing back tears. ‘Thank you for punishing me.’
Miss Martin smiled in satisfaction, and reached to a shelf above her. She drew down a small pot of what looked like ointment, and unscrewed the lid.
‘Poor Jenny,’ she said, taking off the glove from her right hand with a deliberate slowness. ‘Your bottom must be ever so sore. You have had such a good spanking, after all. Shall I apply the usual?’
Something like a small moan seemed to come from Jenny. ‘Yes please, mistress,’ she said.
At that, Miss Martin began to massage ointment into Jenny’s bottom-cheeks, gently and carefully. The mood of the drama had changed completely. Jenny was now a mollified, reticent figure, vulnerable and degraded, ready to be mothered and petted by her erstwhile tormentor.
Lucy watched, rapt, as Miss Martin smoothed and moulded the flesh of her maid’s bottom. At that point any suggestion that Jenny’s spanking was an involuntary or cruel affair was finally dispelled; she obviously relished the cool sensation of the ointment on her punished buttocks, and wriggled eagerly under the lingering touch of Miss Martin’s skilled fingers.
For her part, Miss Martin was no less attentive; making sure that her roving hands caressed every part of Jenny’s posterior. Jenny’s sexual pleasure was now in full evidence, her pelvis rising to meet the hand of her mistress as it rubbed and stroked all over the spanked area. And her bottom was not the only area to receive attention; her thighs were liberally massaged, and Lucy almost failed to suppress an audible gasp of surprise when Miss Martin’s deft fingers slipped for the first time between the gently squirming legs of her maid. Jenny’s moans were now quite pronounced, and taking her cue from this pleasurable response, Miss Martin gently, but insistently, threaded a finger inside her.
Jenny grunted. The music teacher still wore her curious smile, which was part loving, part lascivious. She smoothly began to circle and probe with the extended finger, stroking Jenny’s naked body with her left hand at the same time. Jenny, it seemed, had passed into something like a trance, as if she were a child being soothed to sleep. To buck her up, Miss Martin’s fingers probed deeper into her, eliciting a stifled noise from the maid, who clenched her thighs tightly around her wrist. Responding, Miss Martin pushed her finger to and fro more insistently, skilfully building up a friction. Almost unbearably, the pressure grew. Jenny panted harder, pushing her hips against Miss Martin’s rhythmic hand, and with a terrified lurch in her stomach, Lucy knew she was becoming aroused herself, and suddenly realised her panties were drenched. The imperative of sexual desire took over her actions, and she found herself drawn into the drama.
Almost unconsciously she carefully unbuttoned the top of her jeans. It had to happen - Miss Martin teasing, rubbing and stroking without mercy, the stimulation mounting and mounting, until the continual movement finally brought Jenny to orgasm openly, gasping and panting. Miss Martin gazed tolerantly down on her, insistently probing and thrusting as the maid writhed under waves of pleasure.
Lucy, wide-eyed and overheated, looked on, her body trembling in sympathy. Her hands surreptitiously slid inside her jeans, and burrowed guiltily into her panties. As Jenny’s bottom bucked and spasmed, this time with the different strokes of climax, Lucy felt it surge in her as well. There was nothing she could do about it; the tableau before her had turned her on to an unbelievable degree. She fingered herself in secret, caught by the scene in front of her. Back and forth she quickly and self-consciously frigged herself in the corner, ignored by the similarly occupied pair before her. It did not take long for release; the orgasm quickly built up within her like waves against a sea wall, eventually spilling over into a climax of astonishing intensity. It was all Lucy could do to stop crying out loud, and it was a mighty achievement indeed that prevented anything but a muffled gasp escaping from her lips as she came in her panties. Mortified, she shrank back against the wall, holding her breath, buttoning up her trousers quietly, hoping desperately not to be noticed. Apparently oblivious, and still smiling coolly, Miss Martin withdrew her hand, and bent over her maid. She proffered it to Jenny, who was still flushed and breathing heavily.
‘Clean, please,’ she said, perfunctorily.
Without the slightest pause, and still bent over the desk with her bottom on view, Jenny submissively began to lick Miss Martin’s fingers. When Miss Martin was satisfied, she drew away, wiped her hand on Jenny’s dress, and replaced her glove. She then tucked the hem of the little black uniform into the belt of the white apron.
‘You may stand up again, Jenny,’ she said, drawing away and elegantly adjusting her own attire.
The maid stood up shakily, her knickers still around her knees, and her dress raised well above her glowing behind.
‘Now you will iron Lucy’s skirt and blouse again, this time with your naughty bottom on display for all to see.’
Duly, the maid shuffled across to the ironing board, sniffing a little and out of breath, and began to iron gingerly. Miss Martin watched her indulgently, as if strangely proud of her. She then turned back to Lucy, whose cheeks were almost as red as Jenny’s, albeit in a rather different location.
‘I’m sorry you had to witness that, Lucy,’ she said, as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had taken place. ‘One must be firm with one’s employees, or they take all sorts of liberties. Young Jenny needs a firm hand, I’m afraid, and I have to spank her often.’
She smiled.
‘But never mind,’ she went on breezily. ‘I’m sure you understand. If you could just step out of those clothes, then we can dress you up in your new uniform and see how it fits.’
Lucy started. ‘What, here?’ she said, self-consciously.
Miss Martin frowned. ‘Why, yes, you silly girl,’ she said. ‘How else are we going to try your uniform on?’
Lucy looked around uncertainly. ‘Well, I...’ she began.
‘Come, come!’ snapped Miss Martin impatiently. ‘I’ve no time for prudery. Get those clothes off please, and we can dress you.’
Again, the conflict of emotions. She couldn’t take her clothes off in front of two strangers, especially Jenny, in front of whom the humiliation would be too much. But on the other hand, she was still buzzing with excitement, and it almost seemed the most natural thing in the world. She stole a quick glance at Jenny, who was looking the other way, her punished bottom quivering attractively as she vigorously ironed the uniform.
‘Um...’ she said, vacillating.
‘Lucy,’ Miss Martin said decisively, ‘take your top off, now!’
There it was again, the tone of absolute command. There was no disobeying it, and its particular clipped timbre sent shivers of pleasure through her body. Blushing bright red, and hesitantly, Lucy pulled her jumper over her head. Miss Martin held out a gloved hand, and Lucy gave it to her. Her T-shirt followed, leaving her standing in front of Miss Martin in just her brassiere. Miss Martin looked approvingly at her modest, yet exceptionally pert breasts.
‘Good girl,’ she said, turning aside to place Lucy’s things on the table where Jenny had just been spanked. ‘Now your shoes and trousers, please.’
There was no getting out of it. Lucy desperately didn’t want to drop her jeans, as her white panties were wet from the excitement of seeing Jenny punished, and if she let Miss Martin see those... the humiliation was too much to bear. And yet she couldn’t disobey her - it was just impossible. Submissively, and aware that she was now completely in the power of the delectable Miss Martin, Lucy bent down and undid her shoelaces. After a little fumbling she managed to get her shoes off, and handed them over. She then loosened her jeans again, and looked back up, a kind of pleading expression on her face. Miss Martin, however, was impervious to appeals.
‘C
ome on, Lucy,’ she said briskly. ‘Take them down.’
Furiously embarrassed, Lucy slowly reached for the tops of her jeans. Her stomach was churning with humiliation, but also, if she was honest, with excitement. Slowly, she slipped her jeans down to her ankles and then stepped out of them. Keeping one modest hand over her damp panties, she coyly handed the bundle of denim to Miss Martin.
She now stood in just her underwear: a white bra, white panties, and a pair of white ankle socks, embroidered with little pink flowers. Despite her efforts to hide the effects of her orgasm, the evidence of her arousal was quite obvious. Her nipples were still hard, and the shape of them poked through the delicate material of her bra. Miss Martin was quick to notice, it seemed, and gave her an almost contemptuous smile.
‘Jenny,’ she said, inspecting Lucy’s firm young body all the while. ‘Cast your eyes over our new pupil. Do you think the uniform will be the right size?’
Jenny turned around and ran her eyes up and down Lucy’s exposed flesh. A wicked look appeared on her face. Lucy could have died, and looked down at the floor, her hands placed over the damp patch between her legs, fidgeting under the critical gaze of the two of them.
‘I don’t know, mistress,’ she said mischievously. ‘It’s hard to tell with her underwear on.’
Miss Martin nodded. ‘Yes, I agree,’ she said. ‘I think Lucy has had a bit of an accident anyway - look at the mess she’s made of her panties. She ought to get out of them straightaway.’
Lucy looked up quickly. Pull her knickers down? Things were getting worse. She looked back and forth between the amused faces of Jenny and Miss Martin, and quickly realised that her fate was sealed. That damned maid was getting her revenge for her exhibition, and was determined to see Lucy suffer.
‘Um, Miss Martin...’ began Lucy, beginning a protest.
‘Lucy!’ snapped the woman. ‘Don’t be so silly. Pull your panties down and hand them over, there’s a good girl.’
There was no way out. Under the auspices of her terrible tormentors, Lucy was being forced to strip naked. The worst of it, of course, was that a hidden part of her actually wanted to, just as she had wanted to see Jenny get spanked, and the perverse desire to be dominated made her shiver with excitement. But to be uncovered in front of a servant, perhaps even younger than her! It was the ultimate humiliation. Hesitantly, she reached for the elastic waistband of her underwear, and hooked her thumbs under it. She looked up at Miss Martin, her expression begging to be allowed to keep her most intimate vestige of modesty intact, but Miss Martin coolly rebuffed her.
‘Knickers off,’ she said in a breezy voice, nonetheless layered with a sadistic undercurrent.
Completely humiliated, and flushed with an unbearable embarrassment, Lucy pulled her panties down, and stepped out of them. Placing an ineffectual hand over the triangle of light pubic hair where her legs met, she shamefully handed the damp bundle of cotton to Miss Martin.
The woman and her maid then took another long, agonising look at Lucy.
‘She’s very pretty, isn’t she?’ said Miss Martin.
Jenny frowned. ‘I could get a better look, mistress,’ she said, ‘if her bra wasn’t there.’
It was an awful teasing game; Lucy would have to undo her bra strap, thereby exposing herself completely, which was exactly what Jenny wanted her to have to do. Resigned, and without waiting for Miss Martin to order her to do it, Lucy sighed, put her hands up behind her back, deftly undid her bra, peeled it off and handed it over.
Miss Martin raised an elegant eyebrow, obviously faintly disapproving of such initiative, but accepted the offering nonetheless.
Blushing mightily, Lucy then stood erect in her socks, her hands behind her back, her young naked body completely exposed to both sets of prying eyes. Jenny took a long time in gleeful contemplation, admiring Lucy’s salient features: her firm breasts, each surmounted by an erect, rose-coloured nipple; her stomach shivering a little as she breathed, its smooth white expanse clothed in the faintest of downs, shimmering prettily under the light; her thighs, creamy and firm, moving against each other slightly as she self-consciously shifted her weight. The naughty maid positively leered at her, revelling in her victory and her victim’s degradation. Miss Martin seemed to take a more aesthetic pleasure in the sight, and was more indulgent of Lucy’s discomfort.
‘Good girl,’ she said amiably. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now, let’s dress you up before you catch a chill.’
She clicked her fingers, and Jenny reluctantly handed over the newly ironed blouse and skirt. With considerable relief Lucy slipped on the bra and panties from the table. She then replaced her socks with the uniformed version, and pulled on the navy pleated skirt. She then put the blouse on, tucking it into the waist of the skirt, and slipped on a pair of the black shoes. Miss Martin herself did up the tie, pulling the knot together gently at Lucy’s throat.
‘You are a good girl,’ she whispered with genuine tenderness, which gave Lucy a curious warm feeling deep within. She smiled at her, and Lucy felt the first tingling of arousal again. Miss Martin’s lips were so close, their deep red outline just in front of her own face. She could feel her warm breath, the faint smell of roses that wafted from her as she patted Lucy affectionately, pulling the tie straight.
‘There,’ she said, and the spell was broken. ‘You look very pretty, Lucy.’
Embarrassed again, Lucy smiled nervously. She was a ferment of emotions, partly sexual, partly of a more mundane sort. Of course, the uniform fitted perfectly. As she was beginning to realise, it had been an exercise, not so much to see whether the uniform would fit her, but whether she would fit the uniform, both physically and metaphorically. She could see Jenny frowning at her. Clearly the maid was going to be something of an adversary. But in this, their first encounter, Lucy felt she had come off the better. After all, whose bottom was still on display, and whose knickers were still around her knees? A quick shimmer of pleasure ran through her frame as she surveyed the ridiculous figure in front of her. Miss Martin seemed to notice her amusement, and smiled sympathetically.
‘You may go now, Jenny,’ she said nonchalantly. ‘However, you will do your remaining chores for the day as you are. You may not pull up your knickers or let down your dress without my explicit instructions. Off you go, now.’
‘Yes, mistress,’ mumbled the maid, and shuffled out of the fitting room, her cherry-red bottom charmingly following her.
Miss Martin then turned back to Lucy. ‘Please sit down,’ she said, in a friendly voice.
Lucy looked around - there were no chairs. Then she realised that Miss Martin meant the floor. She quickly sat down where she stood, cross-legged like a schoolgirl. From that level Miss Martin towered over her, but she didn’t mind being treated like a child - actually, the uniform helped the charade along. She gazed up at her teacher, waiting to be spoken to. Miss Martin leant against one of the desks, her hands loosely clasped in front to her.
‘Now, Lucy,’ she said amiably, ‘as I’m sure you’re aware, I punished Jenny in front of you for a reason. Partly, of course, it was because she was a naughty girl and needed her bottom smacked to teach her to iron properly next time. But I also punished her to give you some idea of the way things are done in this household. In other places, this kind of thing would be looked upon in a very dim light indeed, but I truly believe that there are some people for whom judicious use of corporal punishment can be both improving and instructive in all sorts of ways.’
She looked directly at her then, her expression serious.
‘I tell you this now to give you fair warning of the character of your education in this establishment,’ she said. ‘I am not in the business of being cruel or vindictive, but most sincerely have the interests of my pupils at heart. It is therefore very important for me to have your explicit consent to undergo chastisement if I feel it is necessary. I
f you agree, you can expect to be treated no better or no worse than Jenny should I feel it necessary to punish you. On my part, I guarantee to turn you into a musician of the highest calibre, sensitive to your full range of possibilities and instincts, and to help you find your true nature. Submission to my methods is a two-way thing; it enables you to explore yourself in ways you may not think possible. But I will not impose any form of life upon you without your agreement. You have a little understanding of the type of activities pursued under this roof. And so I must ask you, Miss Cavendish, do you still want to be my student?’
Lucy blushed again, and looked at the floor. Of course she did! All through Jenny’s spanking she had longed to place herself in her position, to submit to punishment under the sensual, expert hands of Miss Martin, for whom a powerful sexual attraction had been awakened in her. But to say so - that was another thing entirely. How could she articulate her thoughts? To say yes would be tantamount to asking for a spanking, which was perverse and humiliating, but to say no at this stage would be madness, so exciting was the prospect of pursuing her musical education in the presence of such a sensual, beautiful, wise and sound-hearted woman. She floundered for a minute, looking for the right words.
‘I should think,’ she said at last, red-faced and haltingly, ‘that you know best, Miss Martin.’
Miss Martin nodded seriously. At that point Lucy knew that Miss Martin understood what she said, and also the deliberation behind it.
‘I’m glad,’ said Miss Martin, in a soft voice. ‘We shall have many adventures together, you and I.’
Then she stood up, assuming once more the tone of severe command that was her norm.
The Piano Teacher Page 4
