To Seek a Master (15 page)

What had been thrilling but also alarming was now a delightful game, or, as he had explained it, part of her training. Laura was singing to herself as she walked Smudge with a fresh spring in her step, while her mind seethed with memories of what had happened and thoughts of what might be to come. Simply knowing that she was now subject to his discipline would have been enough to keep her aroused, but there was so much more.

Just the memory of how he had handled her was enough to send a shiver through her body, while it was impossible to think of the actual spanking without wanting to touch herself. Then there had been the feeling afterwards, unlike anything she had ever experienced before, as she clung naked and trembling to his body. He had explained that it was normal for a well spanked girl to react that way, and it would now be a regular part of her life.

What was less normal was that she had reached a climax purely from the sensation of being smacked, something he knew about but had never encountered before, despite what seemed to be a great deal of experience. She felt proud and
happy,
while he had been openly impressed with her and hinted at the potential for yet greater pleasures. Twice more she had brought herself to orgasm over the memory as she lay in bed after catching the last train home.

He had also admitted to having been fascinated with her for a long time, simply for her looks at first, until her taste in books had hinted at her nature. Even then he had held back, knowing how few women suited his tastes and unwilling to compromise, until the day he had found her bookmark and decided to test her. He felt she had responded well, and had explained the mistake in her reasoning which had led her to assume that the man seeking to control her must have been one of her colleagues. He had sent the message telling her she was a good girl not because he’d known she was wearing suspenders at the office, but because he’d seen her with the bag from Pretty Things. The next morning she’d used a different carriage, so he hadn’t known if she was actually wearing them or not.

Now she was obliged to go bare, or risk punishment, a subtle game that played to the ambiguity of her feelings, setting the pain of spanking against the pleasure it brought. The temptation to disobey on purpose for the thrill of knowing that she would have to face the consequences was strong, but her need to obey stronger still. She had dressed as instructed, and as before, bare under her skirt but for her suspender belt and stockings.

Her sense of anticipation as she sat on the train was stronger than ever, but she now felt protected, knowing he would be there. She also knew that he would not acknowledge her any more openly than before, and that this was an important part of her ‘training’, although she’d didn’t know why. Feeling safe but aroused, she found the temptation to show off irresistible, deliberately adjusting her skirt as the train slowed for Ely
station
so that he would find her pretending to read
Brigands of Barbary
with a thin slice of stocking top on display when he got on.

Just to see him again made her heart jump, as did the slight rise of his eyebrows as he saw what she was showing, maybe suggesting amusement and approval, maybe the reverse, which raised the prospect of a spanking at the weekend. Nor was he the only one who noticed, Mr Brown taking a sly peek, and Hovis Boy positively goggle-eyed as he struggled to pretend he wasn’t looking. Safe in the knowledge that she was the Devil’s girl, both their reactions now amused her.

He followed her as they left Cambridge station, tempting her to walk with a deliberate wiggle that she hoped showed off the shape of her bare cheeks beneath her skirt. At one point he came so close he could have touched her, making her wonder if he would dare to smack her seat in public, which brought her feelings to a peak from which they subsided only gradually once they had parted and she made for the office.

It was hard to concentrate at work, her thoughts constantly drifting to him and all the possibilities life now offered. Fortunately she was given a simple task, updating Mr Henderson’s filing system, which she could perform with mechanical detachment while her thoughts dwelt on other, more important, things and she waited for the instruction that she knew she would receive some time during the day. It came shortly before lunch, and was very different to what she had been expecting.
GO TO THE BASKET SHOP IN CLARE LANE. PURCHASE A ONE METRE LENGTH OF DARK CANE
.

Laura’s puzzlement lasted only a moment, to be replaced by a sick feeling of nervous excitement. It seemed very unlikely indeed that Charles wanted her to repair some wickerwork for him. Far more likely was that he intended to apply the cane to her bottom, something that had never been done to her but
which
she was sure would hurt a great deal. She was equally sure that if he felt it necessary, then she would accept it, although the prospect left her biting her lip as she made her way into the centre of town.

The Basket Shop was more or less as she had been imagining it, a small boutique specialising in old-fashioned wicker baskets, hampers, hanging baskets and just about anything else that could be made of bent cane. She had also been imagining the owner as female, middle-aged and kindly, so that the handsome young man behind the counter came as a surprise, and with no lengths of cane on display she was forced to ask.

‘I’d like a one metre length of dark cane, please.’

He stood up as he replied.

‘What’s it for?’

Caught completely off guard, the blood rushed to Laura’s face as she stammered out an answer, determined to say anything but the truth.

‘Um … what’s it for? I, um … does it matter?’

‘Yes. We have several grades in stock, for different purposes.’

He was looking at her strangely, making her certain that he could picture her touching her toes with her skirt rolled up and her knickers pulled down, awaiting the cane like a disobedient schoolgirl. Her blush grew hotter still.

‘I … I don’t know, um … that is, it’s not for me.’

The faint smug grin on his face suggested that he knew perfect well it was for her, in the sense that it was her bottom it would be used on. So did his reply.

‘I see. Probably the medium grade then, which is about five millimetres thick?’

‘Um … I suppose so. Could you show me?’

His smile grew abruptly wider as she realised the implication
of
what she’d said, now picturing herself not only touching her toes to present her bare bottom, but doing so in the middle of the shop with curious passers-by watching as he tested the cane on her. At that she came close to losing her nerve and fleeing the shop, but he was already making for the back area, to return a moment later with a length of dark brown cane. He spoke again as he passed it to her.

‘This will probably do the job, and they’re only two ninety-nine each.’

Laura had taken the cane, which felt hard, cool and heavier than she had expected. Just to touch it made her fingers twitch and kept her face and chest hot as he waited for her decision.

‘OK. I’ll take it. Thank you.’

As she left the shop she was trying to tell herself that his knowing reaction had been purely in her head, but a nagging doubt remained. Maybe other people had been in to buy single canes and he had put two and two together? Possibly Charles had sent other girls to the shop before her, on the same errand, a thought that brought a touch of jealousy even though he has said he was single. Alternatively, the man in the shop might be into caning girls himself and kept a look out for possible candidates for punishment? Again she imagined being made to touch her toes in the middle of the shop, her bottom pushed well out, her skirt lifted to show that she was already without knickers, and given the cane in full view of the street or with other customers looking on.

The temptation to go back via Sturton Street was considerable, to call in on Charles and show him what she’d bought, perhaps to have it tested after all, or to admit to imagining herself being disciplined by another man, which she was fairly sure would earn her a well-deserved punishment. Only the certainty of being late back if she made a detour prevented
her,
and as it was she pushed open the door to Mr Henderson’s office at three minutes past two. He glanced up.

‘You’re normally very punctual, Laura.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Henderson. I had to go into town.’

He glanced at the cane, which she hastily put down by her desk.

‘For a garden cane?’

‘And one or two other things.’

He gave a slight shake of his head, nothing more, but again Laura found herself wondering if he had guessed. Blushing once more, she hastily got back to work, wondering if Charles had been aware of how much of an ordeal buying the cane would be for her. The answer was almost certainly yes, and even if neither the man in the shop nor Mr Henderson had guessed its true purpose, there were undoubtedly other, more dirty minded individuals who would. Brian would guess, she was sure, which would mean lurid rumours circulating the office just as fast as the grapevine could carry them.

By the time she left she had managed to wrap the cane in brown paper, making her trip to the station a good deal less embarrassing, at least until she got into her carriage to find Charles already there. He glanced at the package in her hand and gave her one of his most wicked smiles. Digging into his coat, he produced an envelope, which Laura took as she spoke.

‘You really know how to bring out my feelings, don’t you? What’s this?’

He immediately lifted a finger, wagging it gently before putting it to his lips. A lump came into Laura’s throat instantly and the cheeks of her bottom tightened beneath her skirt as she realised that she had broken the rules. She had earned herself a spanking, maybe the cane, filling her with apprehension and excitement as she took her seat. He was close to her,
but
said nothing, merely enjoying the view of her legs until he got off at Ely station.

For the rest of the journey Laura was fiddling with the envelope, not daring to open it for fear of somebody else reading what might be extremely revealing contents, but tearing it open the moment she was safely home. Inside was a card, covered in neat handwriting on one side and with a picture on the other, a delicate watercolour showing a pretty blonde girl with her hair in a wavy 1950s style, dressed in red high-heeled shoes, stockings, suspenders and a full bra, also a pair of big white knickers. But they had been pulled down to the level of her thighs, baring her cheeky bottom to an older, fully dressed woman with similar features and hair. In the older woman’s hand was a cane, not simply a straight length, but with a crook handle.

For a long moment she stood staring at the picture, doing her best to ignore Smudge’s efforts to lick her face as she imagined the young girl’s fear and humiliation, before curiosity got the better of her. Turning the card over, she read what he had written.

The cane is for your discipline. You will make it yourself, as a classic, English school cane as illustrated on the front of this card. You will keep it hung on the back of your bedroom door.

He had signed the card, but there were no further instructions. Laura read the words a second time and a third, then the first sentence yet again. To have guessed what the cane was for was one thing, but to see it written down quite another. She savoured the words – the cane is for your discipline – stated without emphasis or the least hint at the dark, sexual implications. Nor was there any ambiguity, no room
for
escape. She had confessed her need for discipline and now she would get it, with an implement she’d paid for and made herself, and which she would have to keep in plain view in her bedroom as a constant reminder that when, and if, it was necessary she would be beaten.

The thought made her weak with apprehension and need, but ordinary life had to be attended to. She went to fetch Smudge’s lead, only to realise that it was important for her discipline to become a part of ordinary life. The cane would hang with her bathrobe. When she needed the bathrobe, she would put it on. When she needed the cane she would be made to bend over the bed and it would be put across her bottom, a thought very nearly too exciting to resist.

First she had to make it, and while he hadn’t given her any instructions it seemed reasonable to assume that it would need to be soaked before the end could be bent to make the handle. Deliberately treating it as part of her normal evening routine, she ran a few inches of water in the bath and put the cane in, only then taking Smudge for his walk. Her head was still full of thoughts, in equal parts disturbing and delightful, of Charles and what he would expect of her, of the cane she was making and of the picture on the card.

It was impossible not to picture herself in the same vulnerable pose, perhaps even with another woman about to administer her punishment, so that it was not sexual at all, but done purely in order to discipline her. The thought was intriguing, and didn’t even seem unfaithful, so she let her mind wander, trying to decide which of the women she knew would be the best. The obvious choice was Hazel Manston-Jones, who looked the part and would undoubtedly apply the strokes mercilessly hard. She had already spanked Laura, so might well want to dish out a few strokes of the cane.

As always when thinking of Hazel Manston-Jones, it took
Laura
a moment to get over her pride before she could let her fantasy build up, but she was soon imagining a scenario in which she was caught with her brand new cane and made to take it as a punishment for going with Chris Drake. There would be nothing sexual about it at all, but Laura would still be made to go bare, purely in order to humiliate her and emphasise how low she was beside the tall beautiful Hazel. She would be put in a thoroughly lewd position as well, to make sure everything showed, kneeling on her bed, or bent over her kitchen table, perhaps even strapped in place to prevent her wriggling or trying to escape. She’d be lectured, told what a dirty cheating bitch she was, then caned, six hard strokes delivered one by one across her naked cheeks as she squirmed in her bonds before having her well-decorated bottom photographed so that Hazel could show Chris what had been done.