Madam in Attendance

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

The house was definitely not what I had expected, not that I knew what to expect. For starters it was old and seemed rambling; typical of the build style in the mid eighteenth century. The drive was slightly overgrown creating the effect of walking through a tunnel of trees, which reached out to each other above my head. The door was on the side of the house not at the front as I would have expected with a garage beyond it.

As for the door-bell it was one of those horror movie types, you know, the pole which you tug and it pulls a cable ringing a distant bell. By now I was beginning to wonder if I had the right place but I pulled the lever and even heard the chime echoing around the building. That was one hell of a door bell, not easy to miss, that was for sure.

Lesley opened the door quite quickly, and immediately she stepped back for me to enter. For half a second I hesitated not out of fear of the unknown. Oh no, I hesitated because of the image Lesley provided for me. She had opened the front door dressed respectably enough but a bit odd all the same. She stood aside causing her gown, her teacher’s gown, you know, a long black cape type of thing, to swirl around her body. Perched on her head was the mortarboard that nearly completed the outfit. I have to admit that I automatically glanced down at her hand, half expecting to see a flexible cane held there, but it was empty.

Having entered, Lesley shut the front door behind me and explained that she was dealing with a rather lazy student, one that was trying her patience and was about to learn the error of his ways.

In a way I was quite relieved by the information. After all, I had thought the outfit was put on for my benefit and that was a little concerning. Lesley led me down a corridor which was poorly lit and turned left in to a comfortable lounge. She told me that she expected to be about half an hour or so and that I could either (she hesitated for the briefest of pauses) make myself comfortable here in the lounge. Or if I preferred (another brief hesitation), I could return to the classroom with her and witness the disciplining and re-education of her wayward student. She had added that my presence would add to the situation and therefore make it far more effective in the long run of things.

Well diary, I will admit to you and you alone, that though at that time and age I was slightly naïve and very innocent of the ways of the world. That same world which would later provide me with such a pleasing and rewarding life. I was interested by the thought of sitting in on a student getting a serious bollocking from Lesley. So without apparent hesitation I accepted the offer and followed her out of the lounge, heading towards the rear of the house. Lesley led me towards a stout looking door with metal reinforcing straps and a lock with a key poking out of it.

She turned the key and I heard a distinctive click as the mechanism opened. It seemed strange to me that the door was locked. After all she had a student I presumed in there, typing away at some practice piece; why had she locked them inside?

The door opened at her push and without hesitation she strode into the room. From behind her I could clearly see a single school type desk, with the expected typewriter sitting on it. The typist in me noticed that there was no paper held within the rollers grip, the machine was obviously not being employed or had been finished with. A quick glance around the room revealed first the austerity of the setting and second, the teacher’s desk with the obligatory schoolroom blackboard behind it.

Kneeling before the desk head down, arms reaching up, holding out a piece of paper was a male. To me he did not look that old, may be eighteen or nineteen I decided. The most striking thing about him was not his kneeling position, not even his out stretched hands or even the paper, it was the fact that he was stark naked except for a heavy restrictive looking leather hood. I noticed that there were clearly defined eye holes but no mouth hole. A dark, almost black strap fastened around the boy’s neck locked the hood in place with a padlock fitted through two matching metal hoops.

The next interesting thing I noted was the huge erection poking out from the boy’s front. His c**k looked as though it might burst so swollen with arousal was it.

Lesley ignored the view, she even ignored my presence as she strode to the desk and picked up a thin, long, school cane which she thrashed through the air. The sound penetrated the whole of the room. I watched as the meek looking culprit twitched in anticipation of a blow from that flexible stick.

Privately, I admit, I was finding the situation quite stimulating. I pushed the door closed behind me and just stood and watched as the scenario expanded. As for the victim, he knelt silently in front of the desk, keeping his limited gaze firmly held forwards, whilst Lesley with her cane circled him like some predatory creature intent on devouring him.

I don’t believe that the boy was even aware of my presence in the room, well at least not yet he wasn’t. Lesley took the offered paper from his hands and read the meager content, then her anger really blew. I had seen her get annoyed and I had thought that I had watched and I remembered her anger well, as I had been on the receiving end of her scorn for poor work, but what I was watching now went far beyond anything that I had previously experienced.

The cane slashed through the air exploding harshly into the naughty boy’s thigh. He clearly had not expected the blow or for that matter seen its descent; because he reached automatically to his hurt and tried to rub it. She screamed at him, literally at the top of her voice and right next to where his ear would be beneath the hood. She called him names and littered them with powerful derogatory expletives. The boy flinched but accepted the treatment. From where I stood I could clearly see his enraged c**k twitching in excitement, caused by each insulting word. The boy opened my eyes for me right there and then. With a flash of brilliant understanding, I appreciated that he was really enjoying the abuse he was receiving.

Lesley glanced up at me and winked, before lashing the tip of the cane into the boy’s upper buttocks. Six harsh and fast strokes bit into his flesh, amazingly, he remained exactly in the position he had been in from the start. He took the stick and took it well. Lesley grasped him by the collar and literally lifted his slim body to his feet. With his head bent forwards because of her grip; she pushed him towards the school desk, the one with the typewriter resting on its lid. She glanced in my direction and then back to the desk. I understood the silent meaning in her request and so I became involved, only in a minor way you understand, dear reader.

I removed the typewriter from the table top and looked around for somewhere to put it down. The only available surface was the teacher’s desk. So that’s where it went. By the time I had placed the machine down and turned around, Lesley had forced the culprit over the empty desk and stood back flexing her cane and admiring the boyish, nicely presented buttocks she was about to thrash. She pointed the cane at me and then around the desk clearly indicating that she wanted the culprit to be fully aware that I was intending to watch his humiliation and caning.

I walked around that desk until I was standing in front of his sheathed head, fully aware that he could only see my skirt and shoes. I reached out and lifted his head and knelt down at the same time. I wanted to look into his fear filled eyes and in a way, gloat. I wanted him to understand and feel the added humiliation that my presence must be creating in his mind. His eyes were blue and shined with the glisten of preformed tears. I smiled into those eyes and for my effort received a clear picture of the fear and humiliation going on behind them. Then I let go of his head and walked back around the desk so that I could watch the cane doing its disciplining work.

I eagerly watched and counted each of the sixty-two strokes of that cane, as they cut deeply into his buttock or thigh flesh. I watched, getting more and more excited, as deep red lines appeared to mark the lily white mounds of his bottom cheeks. I watched and enjoyed each twitch and jerk of his flesh as he vainly fought to elevate the agony that stick must be creating. Beneath the desk his c**k reacted to each fresh hurt. I know because I watched it jerk in its own pleasure.

Lesley was a tyrant, she showed the boy no mercy and when she had finally finished caning him, she grasped him tightly by the collar, pulling him from the desk onto the floor. From there she ordered him to the far corner where he was to remain for the rest of his lesson. The boy crawled to the indicated position and then knelt upright. Lesley followed his red buttocks, picking up something from the cupboard to his right as she passed.

I recognized it immediately, only once had I suffered the humiliation of having the thing placed on my head. I, like this boy had stood in my classroom’s corner. Unlike him I had not been soundly thrashed with a cane on my naked buttocks, nor was I stripped and hooded, but still I understood the similarities. Lesley placed a paper cone on his hooded head, emblazoned with the single but powerfully humiliating word, ‘Dunce’.

The boy for his part understood the meaning that was clearly shown by the dropping of his shoulders and the general feel he exhibited of being even further humiliated. With her punishment of the boy over for now, Lesley turned back to face me, smiling and removing her mortarboard and gown. These she placed carefully on her teacher’s desk. Then she walked towards me offering coffee, as though nothing of any importance had occurred. Just as we were about to leave the room she turned once more towards the kneeling culprit and ordered him to stay exactly as he was. I heard a muffled reply which I believe was, “Yes, Miss.” Then we were through the door which Lesley padlocked and this time pocketed the key.

Lesley led me back to the lounge but before we had even seated ourselves the telephone rang and that was that. All the questions running through my mind were instantly put on hold and Lesley, in the nicest possible way asked me to leave. What choice did I have? So I left, and diary I have to admit that my knickers squelched as I walked down her drive. By the time I arrived home I was in desperate need of attention but mum was in and wanted to have a friendly chat with me. Oh boy, was I randy and ready for it by the time I finally got to bed that evening and did I give it to myself and delightfully hard.

Just imagine reader of my secrets, just how hard I got it, here is a hint, not one dildo but two. The rest I will leave for your perverted, voyeuristic lust to fill in: enjoy.