by Sarah Steel
'Do you mean to say Alice is employed by a fried fish empire?'
'Microchips, dear,' Nanny Pearse hastened to assure her companion. 'The house is splendid. Nash, of course.'
'Of course.'
'And the family are quite manageable. Nanny is in charge of the youngest two and tutors the elder girl.'
'How very enterprising. But?'
'There is a difficulty. The husband—'
'Bed?'
'I think not. No, no direct advances in that direction.'
'Discipline?'
'Exactly. Wanders into her bedroom at night and talks. Sometimes in his shirt tails.'
'Underpants?' interjected Nanny Stevens shrewdly.
'Not always.'
'Then it's chastisement he wants, depend upon it.'
'He certainly seems to be hoping for a little stern nannying,' Nanny Pearse continued, disclosing that the young and inexperienced Alice was finding the situation increasingly difficult to manage.
At this point, the young Austrian waiter returned, solicitously inquiring if more hot water was required for the Gunpowder tea. Nanny Stevens sniffed suspiciously, catching the whiff of lavender soap masking the ranker tang of semen. Odours familiar to all experienced nannies.
'You'll be in hot water, young man, if you slope off to masturbate in the middle of serving afternoon tea,' she rasped.
At a nearby table, a rural dean was tackling a buttered muffin. His eyes widened at the overheard words, he coughed, then his coughing turned to a choking splutter.
'Just the bill, please,' Nanny Stevens said curtly, frowning across at the cleric, who had turned as purple as his vest.
The telephone rang. Nanny Stevens switched off her vibrator - but left it buried up inside her muscled warmth between clamped thighs - and plucked up the receiver.
'He's getting more persistent,' the voice of Nanny Pearse barked, dispensing with the preliminaries. 'I'm going down to Bath.'
'Alice finding it all a bit too much?'
'He's leaving her little presents. Rubber-wear and black leather bras. And little notes, saying how he thinks about her wearing them under her starched white blouse and—'
'Yes, yes. Will the two o'clock from Paddington be a safe bet?'
'Are you proposing to join me?'
'Wouldn't miss it for the world, old girl. Tally ho.'
A little after two, the train glided out of Paddington. In their first-class seclusion, the two nannies settled down to doze.
Nanny Stevens dreamed of a young man she had occasion to punish. She recalled, in her sleeping memories, the Easter when all the eggs had been wolfed by a certain young gentleman down from Eton, while the rest of the family had been piously at morning prayers. Tears and tantrums greeted the scraps of silver and gold wrapping paper as the younger ones loudly mourned the loss of the chocolate eggs. Papa had Daimlered off to his golf club and Mama had hidden behind a migraine. Settling the grieving children down with colouring books and crayons, Nanny had stalked the gardens until she cornered the miscreant in the redcurrant bushes. He was seventeen - but Nanny had owned his bottom for many years and he followed her meekly up to his bedroom, where she ordered him to remove his shoes and stockings and then present himself, trousers down, bare-bottomed for chastisement.
'Shan't,' he shouted rudely.
In her sleep, Nanny Stevens smiled. The young Turk had been very rude and outspoken in his derisive refusal to comply with Nanny's stern instructions. She became very cross - and he weakened, fiddling with his shoelaces as he knelt at her feet.
'You simply can't, Nanny. I'll be at Sandhurst, soon—'
Nanny was firm. 'Too old to be spanked, I suppose?'
'Yes,' he replied sulkily.
'Very well then, young man, it shall have to be the cane. Down at once to the potting shed and bring me back a length of bamboo cane. This season's, mind. Nice and springy. I want to able to hear it swish, understand? Take one from the bundle on the top shelf by the lawn food and phosphate.'
He reached down to pick up his trousers.
'Never mind about those. I want you bare-bottomed for the cane—'
'But Nanny,' he protested, his voice a rising whine. 'Cook may see me - or the new maid.'
'And if they do, then they'll know that Nanny is going to beat your bare bottom, won't they? Now go and fetch the cane.'
He raced off, returning red-faced - the new maid had squeaked her surprise at catching the young master naked - carrying the short length of whippy bamboo. Moments later, face down the duvet, Nanny was tap-tapping his bunched cheeks, smiling as they suddenly clenched in a responsive anxious reflex.
Stepping back a pace, and judging the distance expertly with the cane's length, she planted her dark brogues into the carpet. He buried his face in the duvet, whimpering his apologies.
'Too late for sorry, young man. You know you deserve to be punished - and punished you shall be.'
She lashed him eight times, pausing between each stroke to let the searing pain soak in, and the dread of the next swipe build up to haunt his imagination. Swish, stripe. Swish, stripe. Each measured stroke lashed the thin cane down across his buttocks. Soon the pink weals were deepening to a darker shade of pain. Between the fifth and the sixth stroke, she tamed him with her cane by depressing it at the nape of his neck. Dominating him superbly, she quelled his wriggling and writhing. The concluding strokes were vicious, planting crimson stripes across the roundest curve of his helpless cheeks. He squealed aloud, clamping his pale thighs together until his cleft became a mere crease.
'There,' she murmured, resting the cane across his punished rump. 'Nanny has chastised you. And what do you say to Nanny after our punishment?'
'Thank you, Nanny,' he whispered thickly.
'Good little boy.'
Prodding him gently with the tip of the cruel cane, she rolled him over. His erection flickered up, saluting her smartly. She teased its glistening snout with the cane. He blushed furiously - his face almost as red as his bottom - and scrabbled his hands to cover his proud shaft.
'Don't be silly, young man,' Nanny purred, sweeping his fingers away from his throbbing cock deftly with her bamboo. 'No secrets from Nanny. After all, I've bathed you and owned your bottom for many a long year, haven't I?'
He closed his eyes tightly, burning in his shame. She began to tap his balls, flicking her wrist so that the cane jerked up into them softly, maddening the heat in his sac. Grunting softly, he thrust his hips up and came, splattering his tummy and chest as he gripped and taloned the duvet in exquisite torment.
'Now run along to the bathroom and wash yourself thoroughly,' she said crisply, wiping the wet tip of her glistening cane in her skirt. 'I will be along shortly to apply a cold flannel to your hot bottom. And,' she concluded sternly, 'Nanny hopes that she has taught you not to be such a greedy, selfish little piggy. Really, eating the young ones' Easter eggs like that. Has Nanny taught you a lesson?'
'Yes, thank you, Nanny,' he mumbled, wiping the semen from his chest hairs with a flattened palm. 'How - how did you know it was me who ate the eggs, Nanny?'
'Nanny knows everything,' she replied tersely. 'And, above all, Nanny knows best. Aren't you glad I chose to cane you rather than spank your bottom over my knee? Hm?'
'Yes, Nanny.'
'Of course you are. You wouldn't have wanted to be spanked across my knee and splash my nylon stockings with your sticky wickedness, would you?'
'No, Nanny.'
'And why not?'
He lowered his head and remained stubbornly silent.
'Because,' she whispered, 'Nanny would have had to spank your sore bottom very hard until you had licked her clean.'
Wet from her reverie, Nanny Stevens rose from her seat and swayed down the carriage towards the loo. In it, she used a fistful of tissues to dry her excitement.
The train sliced through the countryside, scattering crows and cows.
In her seat, awake behind closed eyes, Nanny Pearse enjoyed her s
panking memories, her wet lips parted in a carnal smile. She recalled her time in a Suffolk manor farmhouse. The cook, a young Welsh girl with large, brown eyes, had been very temperamental over Christmas. The turkey had survived, but the pudding had been ruined. Cook remained out of sight, clattering and crashing angrily in the kitchen. Eight years younger than Nanny the tempestuous Welsh beauty refused to be consoled.
After a supper of cold meats and relish on Boxing Day, the children of the household were safely asleep and the adults had gone out for drinks. Nanny Pearse had discovered the cook kneeling at the Christmas tree in the drawing room, weeping gently. A broken heart, Nanny had diagnosed. Correctly - for large brown eyes brimmed with tears as, in her soft Welsh lilt, the sad girl had spoken of her love for the village schoolmistress. Their affair had been broken up by the arrival of a new, pretty librarian.
'I do miss her so, Nanny. She had a severe way with her. Such a sweet, severe way. I miss that savage tenderness so much.'
Nanny Pearse had used the switch of mistletoe to whip the cook's eagerly upturned bare bottom. The whipped girl had smothered her squeals of delicious anguish in a large crimson cushion; soon, her bare cheeks were criss-crossed with crimson from the strict kiss of the mistletoe's lash.
'Oh, Nanny,' the punished cook had moaned, scrambling to plant her mouth between her chastiser's parted thighs - licking the pantied pubis adoringly - and spilling out her gratitude, 'You've made my Christmas come.'
A taxi took them from the station to the fine Nash mansion in an exclusive part of Bath. Alice received them both and gave them a supper of sardines on toast. They retired to her room upstairs and undressed, remaining in their lingerie. Nanny Stevens sported a ribbed, cream pantie-girdle with dark brown stockings snapped up tightly at the suspenders. The sheer stockings sheathed her legs superbly. She wore a balconette bra to bunch her heavy breasts in strict bondage, the semi-cupped support thrusting her bosom up in plump provocation. Nanny Pearse had selected an underwired basque cut high at her thighs and buttocks, and pearl-grey tights of a cotton and lycra mix.
After inspecting them, and stooping to straighten Nanny Stevens' seams, Alice left, taking a taxi to the cinema. Both nannies sat in silence on the bed in the darkened room.
At a little after ten, the bedroom door handle rattled softly. The door inched open and the blonde head of a young businessman - Alice's employer - peered into the darkness.
'Nanny,' he whispered. 'It's me. Don't be alarmed.'
'Come right in, young man,' both nannies boomed. The light was snapped on. He froze.
He smothered his startled cry at the sight of the two splendid matrons in their delicious underwear. His cock stiffened in response to the swollen promise of Nanny Stevens' breasts wobbling in their balconette - and twitched painfully against his shorts at Nanny Pearse's heavy buttocks. In his sac, his tightening balls churned at the glimpse of her sleek thighs sheathed in the sheen of her pearl-grey tights. Behind their sheer stretch, her pubis fuzz showed darkly.
'Not a sound,' Nanny Stevens warned, 'unless you want to explain the presence of a couple of tarts under your roof to the board of directors tomorrow.'
He stumbled into the bedroom. 'Where's Alice?'
Ignoring him, they closed the door and quickly gagged him, then stripped him naked. With hands buried in blue rubber gloves donned for the purpose, they toyed with and tweaked the tip of his straining shaft. His pre-come made their rubbered fingertips shine.
'We gather that you have been persistently pestering Alice for a taste of nanny domination,' Nanny Pearse whispered, masturbating him but pinching his foreskin in a bid to deny his liquid release.
Gagged, he could only manage a muffled denial. 'If it's nanny domination and discipline you want, young man, nanny domination and discipline you shall most certainly have... Bend over.'
She spanked him severely, her flattened palm sweeping down crisply across his bare bottom, reddening it instantly. After the thirteenth swipe of her spanking hand, he came, soaking her pearly grey tights with a spreading dark stain.
'Naughty boy,' Nanny Pearse whispered venomously. 'Now you're really going to suffer.'
His eyes widened above his tight gag as they bound his wrists and ankles together using a pair of Alice's black stockings for the impromptu bondage. The stocking at his wrists was bound so tight it bit and burnt the whitened flesh.
Forced to kneel, his sweating face now buried completely in Nanny Stevens' bosom, he shivered and groaned into his gag as Nanny Pearse mounted his bottom from behind, raking her pubic mound repeatedly and dominatingly down against his hot cheeks, the sheen of her wet tights stretched across her plum-pubis, rasping his punished buttocks savagely.
Biting into his gag in ecstasy, he came: lurching drunkenly and splashing Nanny Stevens' girdle with a prolonged, pumping squirt of hot liquid joy. Imprisoning his cheeks between her straddling thighs, Nanny Pearse expertly milked and drained the last drop out of him.
They worked on him ruthlessly 'til well past midnight, leaving him pale and spent - having come six times at their cruel command. Straining in his bondage, he wriggled and threshed in a vain attempt to escape their intimate attentions, but there was no hiding place in the small bedroom from their capable, nannying hands. Although the polished leather sheath of a riding crop glistened on the bed, it had not been used upon his bottom.
'A little treat for later,' the nannies had whispered.
Apart from the occasional staccato bark of a crisp spanking - and the sticky smear of both nannies' wetness - his cheeks remained virginally creamy.
Alice returned, and gasped aloud at the scene that greeted her wide eyes as she entered her bedroom.
'We've prepared him for you, Alice. Warmed him up a bit. I'm sure, after you've dealt with him,' Nanny Pearse murmured, picking up the cruel crop, 'you won't be having any more trouble from him.'
Both nannies dragged him, still bound and gagged, before Alice.
'Get into your nanny's uniform quickly,' Nanny Pearse told her.
Alice obeyed, stripping then dressing gingerly from nakedness to pert, starched nanny in a pinstriped uniform - allowing her employer a tantalising, teasing feast.
'Hold him fast,' Nanny Stevens advised her companion. 'I'll use the crop now.'
Taking the crop from Nanny Pearse, she swished it. 'Better keep his gag on. They squeal a bit under the lash.'
'No, he won't. Too much at stake if his wife came to see what was going on. Besides,' Nanny Pearse reasoned as she undid his gag, 'we want him to taste his domination, don't we?'
Nanny Stevens grinned and nodded.
The bound man, now ungagged, shrank back but Nanny Pearse forced his face in between Alice's thighs. Alice raised the hem of her uniform skirt and peeled her panties down to receive his nose, lips and tongue.
'Look at Nanny,' came the first strict command.
Opening his eyes, he gazed adoringly into Alice's pubic nest.
Swish, crack. The crop seared his buttocks.
'Smell Nanny,' came the second stern injunction.
He dug his nose into her moist warmth.
'Inhale her fragrance.'
He obeyed, his striped cheeks spasming.
Swish, crack. The crop sliced down again.
'Taste Nanny.'
His tongue worked busily at the labia, then probed them.
Swish, crack. He screamed softly, mouthing his agony into the wet pussy.
'Worship Nanny.'
Kneeling, he bowed down in abject reverence before the adored one.
Swish, swish, swish. He came at her feet. Literally, ejaculating over Alice's stockings. Treading his head down with her prinked foot, Alice drove his face down into his own warm mess - as Nanny Stevens plied the short leather-sheathed crop again and again in a stinging rain of pain.
-oOo-
Enjoy more erotic fiction by Sarah Steel, also exclusively published as an eBook by us and available to download from most favourite online bookstores now...
Correction Squad
Crack, crack! The whipping leather spoke more eloquently of retribution than any sermon ever could. A rebuke would have been wasted on the thieving nurse. These stinging stripes were the cruel words which she would both understand and heed. Crack, crack! The naked woman moaned as her bare bottom was once more scorched with the blazing tongues of pain.
'Excellent,' observed Krystal as she surveyed Beetle's handiwork. 'Justice has been done.'
The brunette did not reply but basked in her partner's approval. She gathered up the leather belt and pressed it to her mouth. Reverently she kissed the hide, tasting its dark cruel tang. Punishment, to the younger avenging angel, was a deeply sensual pleasure...
On occasions a crime must be instantly punished. When it is inappropriate to wait for the process of law. When what is required is the swift and painful execution of justice. When it's time to send for the - Correction Squad.
Krystal is blonde, beautiful, Polish - and mean. Pretty, dark-haired Beetle is her assistant. Together they relish the chance to exercise their talents in the dispensing of justice. And when they have finished with the impudent flesh of the sullen-faced thief and the pert posterior of the trembling cheat - then it's time to hone their skills on each other...
-oOo-
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