A Study in Shame (11 page)

Morrison did not approve, but then he very seldom approved of anything, unless it involved doing horrible things to me.

I went on, warming to my theme. ‘And who knows how long it’s been going on? All this time I’ve been playing Miss Goody-Two-Shoes – well, most of the time – and all the while he’s been indulging his gay fantasies! Do you think I should tell him I know, perhaps come to some sort of arrangement? Or do you think I should keep it in reserve in case he catches me misbehaving? No, that wouldn’t be right, would it, but I don’t want to admit I was peeping at them either? Oh dear!’

It was a serious dilemma, and not at all the sort of thing Morrison could help me with, when all he was really good at was adding to my feelings of shame and humiliation when I punished myself. At the thought of punishment, I realised that there was a possible way out.

‘How about this? I’ll tell Magnus and hope he’s understanding, or if he’s cross then maybe the offer of a chance to spank me for peeping will calm him down. That way we can work out what to say to Mr Scott together and I won’t feel bad when I’m with him, because I don’t really mind … or do I?’

I wasn’t sure, because despite what I’d been up to with Charlie, and the fact that I’d wanted to crawl between Magnus’s legs and join in with Mr Scott, I still felt jealous.

‘Don’t be a hypocrite, Lucinda. You’re as bad as they are, and a dirty little Peeping Thomasina into the bargain. Maybe they should both spank me? That would really teach me a lesson, wouldn’t it? And afterwards I’d have Magnus make Mr Scott promise to let me do as I pleased as long as I’m not too outrageous. How’s that?’

For once, Morrison seemed to approve, but I knew I was going to need a lot of courage and determination to pull it off, while there was every chance it might all go horribly wrong.

***

If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s hiding my true feelings, and I managed to get through the day without doing anything to make Mr Scott suspicious. He was his usual self, and equally good at dissembling, which I suppose is a very British thing. As he closed our Chinese deal, he looked the epitome of the powerful and successful businessman, and not at all the sort of man who’d enjoy going down on his knees to suck cock, just as I must have looked the perfect English PA beside him, and not at all the sort of girl who gets off on her own humiliation.

Underneath it all I was growing increasingly nervous at the thought of my meeting with Magnus. I had to tell him what I’d done, and there seemed to be a very real chance that he would react badly, because for all the lip service paid to tolerance and equality there’s still a strong stigma attached to homosexuality. Then there was the matter of sneaking into his warehouse and peeping at him. Yet there was one consolation, I told myself as I showered and changed into the red dress I’d worn when we first met: his reaction would be the mark of him as a man, and if he was violent or aggressive it was better to find out sooner rather than later. With that in mind, I didn’t waste any time, but suggested a drink at the Wharfingers as soon as we met, then found a place on the wall where we wouldn’t be overheard.

I forced myself to broach the subject as soon as I’d finished my first glass. ‘I have a confession to make, Magnus.’

‘Something naughty, I hope?’

‘Yes, but you may not like it.’

‘Go ahead. I’ll try to cope.’

He looked concerned, and could obviously tell I was serious.

I swallowed half of the large glass of wine he’d just bought me and launched in. ‘I went out for a drink last night and I was walking back this way. I saw your car in the alley and thought you might like to see me if you were working late. I went into the warehouse and I saw you with Mr Scott.’

Now he really looked concerned. ‘You saw me with David Scott?’

‘Yes. I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry.’

He didn’t answer immediately, and I could see that he was wondering exactly what I’d seen.

I told him. ‘Everything. Well, enough anyway.’

‘And you’re not angry?’

‘Me? No. I thought you might be. Why should I be angry?’

‘Because … you and I?’

He made a vague gesture between us and I found myself smiling.

‘I was a bit jealous, that’s all, but mainly I feel bad for peeping at you.’

‘Jealous? Most women would be furious!’

‘I’m not most women.’

‘I’m beginning to realise that. So you really don’t mind? Be honest.’

I drew my breath in, swallowed the rest of my wine and let go. ‘I am a bit jealous and I wish you’d told me, but I don’t mind. I don’t mind because I’m the same. Bisexual. In fact, I’m seeing somebody at the moment, a girl from one of the local shops.’

‘May I ask which?’

Now I was blushing. ‘The Pink Pussycat.’

‘Charlie or Emma?’

‘Charlie. Do you know her?’

‘She’s on the local ratepayers’ committee and so am I. I was in there this afternoon too, buying you a present.’

‘And you don’t mind?’

‘Not in the least. Is there any man who doesn’t like the thought of two women together?’

‘Plenty, I’d have thought, and there are plenty of women who like the thought of two men together. But what about Mr Scott?’

‘Ah, that is a bit of a problem. It’s not something he’s comfortable with, and it’s very private, while there’s also the issue of his divorce.’

‘I can imagine. I’ve met his wife.’

‘Exactly, so it needs to stay a secret, and I’d probably better not tell him you know.’

‘If you think that’s best, and I promise not to tell anybody. But how did you two get together?’

‘As you know, I supply your company. David has a private account and a taste for fine malt whisky. I run tastings occasionally, which tend to be fairly merry affairs, and, not to put too fine a point on it, I know a cocksucker when I see one. Sorry.’

I was blushing again, because he obviously meant me as well as Mr Scott.

‘That’s OK. I suppose a lot of people want to. Suck you, that is.’

He shrugged, but I wanted more and carried on. ‘I wanted to the first time I saw you, and gay men I can understand, but somebody like Mr Scott? What does he get out of it? Doesn’t it make him feel less of a man?’

‘That’s exactly what he likes, as do a lot of other powerful men. He spends all day making decisions, often ones that have a major effect on other people’s lives. Taking a feminine role to another man helps him relax.’

‘But he enjoys it, for its own sake? He certainly looked as if he was. For me it would be pure shame, maybe penance too.’

‘You like that, don’t you?’

‘To be punished? Yes. Speaking of which, what happens to Peeping Thomasinas?’

‘In this case? They get presents. I saw the position you adopted when I spanked you, Lucinda.’

‘What do you mean?’

He laughed and lifted his glass to his lips, draining the contents in one, then stood up. ‘You’ll see.’

I’d already guessed, because the position I’d adopted, with my hands on my knees and my bottom pushed out, was the one I’d been made to get into on the sole occasion I’d been given the cane. There were canes in Charlie’s shop too, long thin nasty-looking things with crook handles, just right for applying to naughty girls’ bottoms. Magnus had seen the position I’d got into and he’d realised the implications, but he had no idea of the background to my caning, or how much it had hurt. And there was another problem.

‘It’s a cane, isn’t it? I’m still a bit bruised.’

‘Yes, it’s a cane, and I think you deserve it, but we can wait, if you prefer?’

I closed my eyes, thinking back to how I’d felt, first told I was to be caned, then marched up to Juliette Fisher’s bedsit. She made me bend over, in front of two friends, turned up my skirt and pulled my knickers down. I’d held my position while she enjoyed a long slow feel of my bare bottom and her friends enjoyed the view, all the while holding the cane I was about to be beaten with in my teeth. Only when she was good and ready did she take it, to lay it gently across my bottom, swish it through the air, lay it across my bottom again and swish it through the air again before taking aim one last time, then lifting it and bringing it down hard across my cheeks. When I’d finally stopped jumping up and down like a mad kangaroo and let go of my burning bottom, she’d told me I’d get the remaining five the following week. It had been agony, every day, every hour, every minute filled with shame and apprehension, until I could think of nothing but my coming beating, and had masturbated myself sore.

‘Give me one stroke now please, then tell me how many I’ve got coming to me and when you’re going to give me them.’

He laughed. ‘Do you know that David Scott thinks you’re an innocent?’

I shrugged and took his hand, to allow him to lead me from the pub and back towards the warehouse. It felt strange, detached, with normal life going on all around me when I was about to be put into a situation that would horrify most people. Certainly I couldn’t imagine any of the lorry drivers in the depot wanting to cane me, even though each and every one would probably have enjoyed making me suck his cock and made full use of my cunt once he’d got me horny. This was different, something very English and perfectly suited to my sexuality, while Magnus was just the man to do it.

He held the warehouse door for me and spoke up as he locked it behind us, looking full into my eyes. ‘That should keep any nosy little brats out, don’t you think?’

I hung my head in shame and submission, following as he went into his office. On the table was a long parcel of black paper decorated with little silver stars, wide at one end and tapering to a point, a shape which would have made me instantly suspicious even if I hadn’t already known what was inside. He passed it to me and I fumbled the wrapping open, to pull out a long brown school cane with a crook handle, exactly as I’d been expecting and virtually identical to the one Juliette Fisher had used on me. There was a label attached, which I read out: ‘To a girl who knows what position she should be in. Right now, Lucinda.’

I made a face and passed him the cane. He was grinning as I stood back and bent down, resting my hands on my knees, but he wasn’t satisfied.

‘Touch your toes, Lucinda, and brace your feet apart.’

Again I made a face, but I did as I was told, adopting the new position, which I knew full well would make an even ruder display of my rear view once my dress had been turned up.

Magnus gave a pleased nod at my obedience, but he was in no hurry, tapping the cane against the palm of his hand as he went on. ‘Now then, this is sure to hurt, and we can’t have you screaming, can we? Somebody might hear you and get the wrong impression. That’s why I’m going to pop your panties in your mouth.’

‘I don’t have any panties on.’

‘Ah, yes, I was forgetting your predilection for going about knickerless. We’ll just have to improvise, won’t we?’

He stepped close as he spoke, to haul up my dress. I closed my eyes in a blissful mix of shame and fear as my legs and bottom came bare, but he wasn’t content with that, taking it right up under my armpits, and as he began to fiddle with my bra strap I realised what he was going to do.

‘Yes, this will do. Not quite as effective as a pair of panties, perhaps, but good enough to keep you quiet.’

My bra came open and I felt the weight of my breasts change as they lolled forward. It was strapless and he soon had me out of it, my nipples stiffening to the cool air as the cups came free. I’d already opened my mouth, to have it crammed with material.

‘Good girl.’

He’d made me take my own bra in my mouth, adding to my awful feelings as I held my position, near nude with my cunt and anus on show behind, waiting for a punishment I’d wished on myself. I could have cried.

‘There, don’t you look pretty. Now, shall we find out what happens to Peeping Thomasinas?’

I already knew, in my case. They get caned, and I screwed my eyes up in terrified apprehension as he laid the thin shaft across my bottom cheeks.

‘Just the one stroke, Lucinda, for now.’

He lifted the cane, and with Magnus there were no sadistic games, but he was a great deal stronger than Juliette Fisher. I heard the swish and felt it hit, a sudden hard blow followed by an agonising sting, far more than I could cope with. My gag stifled my scream, but I couldn’t stop myself from jumping up and snatching at my bottom, which now seemed to be on fire as the heat of the stroke set in. Magnus merely watched, cool and amused, as I jumped up and down on my toes with my tits jiggling and my fingers clutching at my burning bottom cheeks, but he wasn’t unaffected. Before I’d even finished my silly little dance, he’d pulled down his zip to take out his cock and balls. I went straight to my knees as he sat down, to take him in my mouth and suck, my head full of humiliation not just for being made to suck cock for the man who’d beaten me, but because the last person to give him a blow job had been my own boss, another man, but I was as eager as ever.

After a moment he began to stroke my hair and talk to me. ‘That’s my girl, you have a nice suck to make yourself feel better. Now let me see, how many strokes of the cane do you deserve? Six of the best is traditional, isn’t it, and you’re nothing if not a traditional sort of girl. So let’s call that one a warm-up stroke, just to show you what you’re in for, and you’ll get six next Saturday, here in the warehouse, seven o’clock sharp. Got that?’

I nodded on my mouthful of now erect cock.

I’d have made a great medieval nun. A few impure thoughts, a confession and I’d have been stripped naked and scourged in front of the other nuns, leaving me with a clear conscience and a nice warm bottom. Not that it was really like that, I don’t suppose, but it’s a nice thought.

My caning had much the same effect, only better, because I had the rest of the week for my sense of apprehension to build up, which ensured there was never a dull moment. It also placed Magnus very firmly in charge, but he was not the sort of man to try to take advantage of my sexuality. I’d known one, at university, who thought that just because I liked to grovel at his feet to suck his cock and lick his balls it made me his servant. He’d soon found out he was wrong.