Three Hot Days

"Pervert, Fucking pervert!"

"It wasn't deliberate," I pleaded." I came to get my things and the door was open."

"And you saw Claire, my friend, naked and got your dick out. Fucking shitty pervert....... You should be ashamed of your-fucking-self!"

Just then the door opened, and Claire stood there in her dressing gown,

"What's the fuss," she asked. She appeared a little flushed.

"Malcolm was watching you and wanking," said Moira.

Claire looked at me. I think she was a little embarrassed.

"Is that right?"

"It's true. I didn't mean to. I came to get my books from my room and your door was open, I'm so sorry. I really am."

Right then I wished the floor would swallow me up. I felt my cheeks flushing. The right cheek was already stinging from Moira's slap.

Claire looked me directly in the eye.

"I hope you liked what you saw."

Then she looked across at Moira.

"It was my fault. I left the door open. He's not the first male to see me naked and I hope to hell he's not the last. Leave him be. There's no harm done."

Moira snarled and looked at me.

"Don't think this is finished. I'm going to make you pay, you filthy cunt."

***

The following morning after breakfast Moira spoke to me. I was walking in the garden when she approached me. She was calmer than she had been the night before, but she was still angry, and her voice was cold.

"Claire is inclined to forgive you. I am not. You, as Mum says, are a pig. All men are pigs, You spied on my friend when she was alone in her room, and you were wanking as you watched. You shamed me and her."

She paused.

"Do you want me to tell Mother when she comes home?"

The idea appalled me, I don't know why. Adolescent shame? A need not to give my Mother another reason to dislike me? It was stupid. Nothing could have made her dislike me more than she already did. Except for the contents of my father's will, of course. In any case, after I left this time I was not planning to see Mother or any of my sisters ever again. It made no rational sense at all. Nonetheless, that was the way it was.

"Please no. I'm really sorry."

"You will be. I want you punished for what you did. That's what Mother would do, And she'd learn what a filthy disgusting little pig you are."

"Please don't tell her."

"Then take the punishment I have planned for you."

"What sort of punishment?" I enquired, keen to keep Mother out of things.

"A caning of course."

I just stared.

"You have to be kidding."

"Do I look as if I'm kidding?" she replied. "It's really simple. You take a good hard caning on your bum, or I tell Mother."

I stopped walking. I didn't know what to say as I tried to process what she'd said. Eventually, I replied,

"Who canes me? You?"

"Heavens no. I'd not be able to do a halfway decent job. I want you properly caned. In any case, Mother would not approve, She would think it inappropriate.

No, I'll ask Matron. Rose Lavington is her real name, but we never call her that. She's the school matron. Been at the school for over twenty years. She looks like a gentle old lady, but she knows how to wield a cane., She deputises for Mother sometimes. When I needed corporal punishment in my final term at school, Matron got the job. Mother believed it was more fitting than doing the job herself but, believe me, Matron did not go easy on me. Even fully clothed it hurt like hell."

"What do you mean, even fully clothed?"

"I had my skirt and panties on when I was caned. I want to see you get it on the bare. Naked and on your bare bum to be precise."

"You want to watch? You want to see me naked?

"Damn right. Mother might not consider it appropriate, but she'll never know. Will she? And I'll ask Claire if she wants to watch too. Only fair, don't you think? And don't worry about being naked. When you feel the first cane stroke, any embarrassment will seem unimportant. I'm going to make sure she really lays it on hard."

So there it was. Strip, and then take a bare bum caning from a woman I'd never met, watched by my sister and her lady friend, or my mother would learn I was a voyeur who watched young ladies with my stiff dick in my hand. There was no choice to make.

I made my decision. I was more scared of Mother than the cane. I still don't know why. But there was something else. The thought of a proper bare bum caning delivered by an adult woman appalled and excited me in equal measure.

"I'll take the caning," I replied. "If you promise not to ever tell Mother."

Then I had a thought.

"How many strokes," I asked.

Moira smiled grimly and said nothing.

***

It was mid-afternoon and I was in my room reading a book when there was a knock on my door. After I shouted for them to enter, I saw it was Moira.

She took one step into the room, stopped, and coldly spoke.

"I've talked to her. She wants to meet you at her cottage at seven this evening. Don't be late and address her as Matron."

Then she turned on her heel and left, banging the door behind her.

That evening, exactly on time, I knocked on the door of the aptly named Rose Cottage.

A good-looking lady wearing a long-sleeved, thigh-length, light blue dress opened it. She wore no jewellery or rings.

"You must be Malcolm," she said. "Please go through to the lounge and take a seat. I'll follow you through."

I walked down the entrance corridor towards the door at the end. When I reached it, and before entering the lounge, I turned back towards Matron. I saw that she had locked and bolted the door, but had not moved, and had been watching me as I walked away with my trousered arse on view.

I had the distinct impression she was sizing me up in the same way an animal watches its prey.

She smiled and followed me into the lounge, and we sat.

"I'm Matron," she said.

"I'm pleased to meet you," I replied and offered my hand.

She leaned forward and languidly shook it.

"I'm not sure you will be," she replied.

She was a soft-spoken Scots lady. Her age was difficult to place but I thought she must be somewhere around sixty years old. She was tall and willowy but showed no signs of frailty. Her shoulder-length black hair was neatly cut, and she wore minimal makeup. She remained a very attractive woman and must have been very beautiful when she was younger. Her most prominent feature was her ice-blue eyes that seemed to look right through you and hinted at a streak of cruelty.

She was very businesslike.

"You know why you are here, Malcolm?"

"Yes, Matron."

"How many times were you caned at school?"

"Never."

"You must have been an exemplary pupil, very lucky, or attended one of these modern schools that don't believe in proper discipline anymore.

It's a shame you've never felt the cane. If you had, you'd be more worried about what waits for you tomorrow evening. This is going to be a real education for you. I've been caning boys and girls for almost forty years and I'm very good at it. How old are you?"

"Eighteen. Matron"

She smiled and fondly spoke.

" I haven't caned a young man for over twenty years. He was eighteen too, and I still remember his name. I gave him twenty strokes on the bare. As I remember, he got eight, one day, and then another dozen a few weeks later. He took it well."

Then her voice hardened.

"Now, your sister wants you soundly punished. I don't know why, and I don't have to know. She says that you accept that you deserve severe punishment and have agreed for me to administer it. She doesn't want Mrs Ames, your mother troubled. Is all this true?

"It is Matron."

"Very well. One of the reasons for calling you here this evening is that I need to see your bare arse before I decide your punishment. You do have a choice of course. Show me now or wait until tomorrow. If you want to know what to expect you're better to let me look now. If you don't want to know, I'll wait. There's no point in you being embarrassed. I'm going to see you totally naked very soon anyway."

I said nothing.

"Well?"

I made up my mind. I wanted to know what my punishment would be.

I slowly stood up, turned my back to her, unfastened my belt, and pulled my trousers and underpants to my ankles. I was still wearing my shoes and socks and I felt both embarrassed and ridiculous.

I sensed movement behind me, felt her hands touching my arse cheeks and then gently squeezing each one in turn, Then - horror of horrors - I felt my penis harden and quickly grow erect. Matron had finished examining me and I hurriedly pulled my clothes back up and sat.

Matron sat opposite me, looked directly and pointedly at my bulging groin, smiled, and then looked me directly in the eyes and started to softly speak.

"Moira is really angry with you, She told me that she wants you to receive the maximum number of strokes that I decide that you can safely take. Unfortunately for you, you have large firm buttocks and I plan at least eighteen strokes for you. It will take that many to cover your bum cheeks properly. One for each year of your life. I shall use a senior punishment cane. I will hit you very hard and I will hurt you very badly. It's my job to make sure it is a severe punishment.

Now then. This is how it is going to happen. Tomorrow evening you will go to the gym in the sports wing at precisely nine o'clock. I understand your sister and friend will come with you. I've told Moira to come in by the back door. She knows the way. At this time of year, it will be empty, and we will have it all to ourselves.

You will have showered and gone to the toilet and will wear clean shorts, a tee shirt, and shoes with no socks or underpants. In the gym, you will strip naked and lie over the buck placed in the centre of the floor. I will bind you to the buck for your punishment. That is to keep you firmly in place so as not to interfere with the timing or aim of the strokes.

Once you enter the gym you must not speak unless spoken to, you must address me only as Matron, you must keep count of the first six strokes, and avoid any swearing during the first set of six strokes. After that, I don't expect you to keep count or avoid bad language.... By then, the pain will be too severe. Under no circumstances are you to use abusive language.

Remember this well. Once I start the punishment, I will go through with it to the end. No amount of noise or pleading from you or requests for leniency from the ladies will make me change my mind. Only if I believe you will come to lasting physical damage will I stop.

If you break any of my rules, I will deliver extra penalty strokes. You will not be given any second chances.

You will be badly bruised and welted afterward. I will try not to break the skin, but slight bleeding can happen if strokes overlap. You will need to sleep on your front for a day or two, and the marks will take several weeks to disappear."

She stopped talking for a moment,

"Is that clear?"

"Yes, I think so, Matron."

"Don't worry I'll remind you of what you need to know. Now before you leave I have one last thing to say.

Go home and think about what I've told you. You don't have to agree to this, You are an adult and can make your own decisions. A caning is painful, and Moira can't force you to accept one. My advice to you is to walk away, but If you decide to go through with this, I'll see you in the gym tomorrow evening."

***

When I left Rose Cottage my head was spinning. It was a hot summer evening and I decided to go for a walk in the school grounds before going back home. As I walked, I thought of all the things that Matron had said.

It was clear that she was an accomplished disciplinarian and had probably caned hundreds of behinds in her time, but despite that, she remembered a single bare-bum caning of a young man that happened twenty years ago. It was clear that this event had made a lasting impression on her (she had of course made at least twenty impressions on him) since she remembered his name, the number of strokes, and how well he took them. From how she spoke of this event, it was obvious that she enjoyed it.

And then in my mind's eye, I saw a faceless and naked young man tied down and a younger even more beautiful Rose Lavington measuring a cane across his bare arse.

Suddenly, without any warning, I was brought back to the present. I had not seen an overhanging bramble and had scratched my arm. It was a few moments later that I was distracted again. The bulge that I had developed earlier had returned. My penis was hard inside my trousers, and I needed relief.

When I got home, I went to my room and locked the door behind me. I wasted no time but stripped, lay naked on my bed, my penis stiff within my palm, and slowly started to wank.

It was only twenty-four hours since I had seen a naked woman for the first time in my life. She was beautiful and had been touching herself. Yet, I did not think of her, as I pulled my foreskin up and down. Instead, I thought of a late middle-aged dark-haired lady with a cane. she was smiling as she caned a naked man tied over a buck, and two attractive young ladies also smiled as they looked on. I knew the man was me and wondered about the pain that he was feeling, but I couldn't imagine it.

I needn't have worried. I would experience the pain of a sound caning very soon and learn that before, and even after, it IS unimaginable.

My orgasm was mind-numbing. I felt my penis strain and swell in my palm until it rhythmically pumped successive arcing jets of jizz into the air and they splashed in white globules on my belly.

A little later I slept. It wasn't the deep untroubled dreamless sleep to which I was accustomed. Instead, I dreamed of Matron caning me and when I woke, for just a moment, I wondered whether it had already happened. I put my hands to my bum cheeks, but their skin was smooth and there was no pain. The weather in the night had been hot and humid and my skin glistened with sweat.

Seconds later I was fully awake, and it was then that it all came back to me. I remembered being caught spying on Claire and that shortly, in just over twelve hours, my naked arse would pay the price. It was then, for the very first time, I experienced something that is now very familiar to me.

I wanted to be caned. I knew I needed it, and I craved it. I felt that I deserved it without really knowing why. I didn't feel guilty for spying on Claire. I had not planned to be a peeping Tom. No, I felt guilty for reasons I did not understand. I also knew that my thrashing would be very painful, and I was scared. I was starting to understand both the need for and the fear of corporal discipline that so many masochists feel.

As I lay in bed that morning and thought of what was planned for me, simultaneously, I felt intense sexual arousal and fear. My penis was pointing at the ceiling, hard as a rock, whilst butterflies danced in my stomach.

I reached down, took my penis in my hand once more, and jerked myself off. Five minutes later when my penis lay flaccid on my belly wet with my cum, my arousal had been fed, and only the fear, now stronger than ever, remained.

***

Just after lunch, I heard a tap on my door. I crossed the room and opened it. It was Claire.

"May I come in?"

"Of course."

I sat on the bed, and she went and sat on a chair opposite. I was embarrassed and was sure I was blushing.

"Claire, I'm so sorry," I blurted out.

"Never mind that now, How are you?" she asked.

"OK, I guess."

"Really? Moira's told me what she has planned and you're OK with it?"

"OK, I'm scared."

"You fucking should be. Eighteen on the bare will hurt like fuck. Matron told her how many this morning and then she told me. Moira is so pleased. I've never seen her like this. Listen, Malcolm, you don't have to do this. Walk away. Let her tell your mother. It's not worth it. You walked in on me by accident. I know that. I should have shut the door. If you were watching me and playing with yourself so what? I might have done the same if the tables were turned.

If I'd known this was going to happen, I'd have invited you in, for fuck's sake."

She stopped talking and blushed, before quickly speaking again.

"Oops., I've said too much."

"I've already agreed to it," I said. "I don't expect you to understand, but I don't want my mother to know. She already has a low enough opinion of me. if I don't take this caning now, not only will they call me a pervert, but they'll call me a coward. I know I'm not a pervert and so, I think, does Moira. If I don't take this caning I will be a coward. And I'll know."

"She wants me to watch, you know. I'll tell her I'm not coming if it makes it any easier for you."

"No. I want you there. A little moral support won't go astray. Promise me you'll be there."

Then I tried to make a joke.

"And you'll get to see me naked."

She smiled bleakly.

"OK, Malcolm, I can see there's no persuading you. You're a bloody fool. And you are a much nicer person than the one your mum described,"

She crossed the room, kissed me on the forehead, and turned to leave the room.

"See you on the other side," were her parting words.

Then she was gone.

***

Moira came for me at a quarter to nine that evening. I had done as instructed and had relieved myself and showered. I was lying on my bed wearing clean white boxer underpants, and a clean white tee shirt, and had trainers with no socks on my feet.

"Ready?" was all she said.

"As I can be," I replied.

"Come on then. Fathers gone out and Claire's waiting in the garden."

I stood up and then she spoke again.

"I think she's sorry for you. Me? I'm going to savour every fucking stroke."

We walked over to the gym, I walked between them and looked straight ahead. Nobody spoke.

We reached the gym and Moira pushed the door open and entered. For a moment I was alone with Claire who smiled briefly and squeezed my hand before whispering in my ear,

"I'm here for you."

I entered the gym followed by Claire. Straight ahead of me in the middle of a large room, a gymnastics vaulting horse with a padded soft-leather top was bolted firmly to the wooden floor, and just beyond it were four steel and plastic stackable chairs.

Two of the chairs were unoccupied whilst Matron sat waiting on one, and on the last chair, four short leather buckled straps and a cane were placed. As I got closer, my eyes kept being drawn back to the cane. It was dark brown, about a yard long, and the thickness of my index finger.

My mouth was dry, and my bowels were churning as I approached the vaulting horse.

Matron stood. I could see that she had dressed for the part. She wore a simple black skirt and a loose-fitting short-sleeved blouse, whilst on her feet were white rubber-soled trainers. Her hair was tied up in a bun.

"On-time.... Good. Penalty strokes avoided... so far. Please sit ladies. Malcolm, remember that silence is golden. Please strip and place your folded clothes on the empty chair and keep your trainers on.

I did as I was told.

"Now stand by the buck. Do you remember everything I told you?"

"I think so," Matron.

"Very well. You will address me as Matron at all times until the punishment is finished. I will administer three sets of six strokes with a two-minute gap between sets. You will count only the first six strokes and not swear during the first set, After that swearing is allowed but no abusive language will be tolerated.

Bend over the buck. Keep your feet firmly on the floor, and legs apart next to the legs of the apparatus."

I did as I was instructed, and Marton expertly bound my ankles tightly to the horse before walking around the device, pulling me forward, and stretching me across the padded seat, before binding each wrist to the bottom of each remaining leg.

Legs and arms spread, bum cheeks positioned for my punishment, and in full view of both Matron and the girls, I lay in fearful anticipation. My prick, which had only hours before stood ramrod stiff in expectation of this event, was a tiny shrunken thing between my legs.