Madam in Attendance

Chapter Four-1

Chapter Four

Well diary what an afternoon! What a way to spend my day off but alas I had to return to work on the following morning and boy was that dull; all those bitchy girls pounding away at the keys and me wondering if the naughty boy was still kneeling in Lesley’s schoolroom. Of course I realized that he would not be as she could not have kept him like that for so long, could she?

I resolved to find out for myself, and at lunchtime I rang the college where she worked mornings and finally got put through to her. The conversation had been dull; clearly she wasn’t going to talk openly on the telephone. I did manage to wangle an appointment with her for Thursday evening, but that seemed to me to be a very long time to wait. I believe diary that she was doing it on purpose, knowing that I was intrigued and enjoying making me wait and suffer. Lesley, I was beginning to understand, could be a real b***h harridan.

Between Monday lunch and Thursday, I must have fantasized about every person in the office being beaten and humiliated for one reason or another. Already the staff felt I was distant and uninterested in joining in their mundane conversations. How right they are, the sluts, for that is how I see them, are fixated on getting c**k up their slits, whereas I would like to bend a cane over their well deserving arses.

This change in titillation should perhaps have concerned me, yet the thrills that rippled through me when I envisioned dominating someone, overrode any hint of concern. I had never before thought of having people bound or crawling at my feet. Never seen myself cane in hand, deriding a male or, for that matter, a female. Judging from the strength of my orgasms of late, I decided that I was probably a natural for doing just that!

The days dragged, despite my new insight, I had noticed that one particular girl in the office now seemed to pay attention to the more distant and self assured me. Her name was Clair and the one noticeable thing about her was that she seemed to vanish into the background, almost as though she wasn’t there.

She was on the periphery of the gaggle of other sluts but never really a part. As far as I could discreetly find out she was a loner, she had no boyfriend. She lived with her elderly mother it seemed, but then I lived with mine, so who was I to judge. All that I know is that occasionally, but with a sort of regularity, I would catch her glancing my way, not staring, but just a quick glance. At first I thought it was just me, yet over the last three days whilst I had to wait to visit Lesley I must have caught her looking a dozen or so times. I smiled at her once but she reacted like a scared doe and scampered from the office.

Thursday arrived and I still wasn’t sure what was going on in her mind. I had been unable to get close to her and therefore remained ignorant of her likes and dislikes. With it being Thursday, I forgot all about the shy doe and turned my attention towards this coming evening. I had decided that I was going to get answers to the tirade of questions filling my thoughts; I wanted to know and understand exactly what had been going on the other day and why she had invited me to her house, knowing full well that her naughty boy would still be in the classroom when I arrived.

To me it seemed obvious that she had deliberately controlled and manipulated the situation so that I might witness the punishment setting. I might be paranoid but I had even begun to doubt the telephone call; had that been real or was that also connived, just to get me out of there? Well tonight I determined that I would finally know.

The afternoon dragged slower and slower, the clock hands inched around the face until finally there was only fifteen minutes to go and diary, I can tell you they were the longest ten minutes of my life. Why ten minutes I can hear you wonder reader. Ten minutes dragged and then with five remaining the doe entered into the typing pool and walked bold as brass up to my desk. She was carrying a pile of papers which she deposited and then looking down at the pile, making sure that I was watching her, she tapped the top most sheet of paper and then without a word turned and scurried away. I watched her skirt covered ass as it weaved around the desks; her twill skirt flapped interestingly as she vanished. I found the thought of exactly what I would like to do to those tight young buttocks had already wet my love slot.

Just as I was about to pick up the papers, she had made such a palaver about leaving, my telephone rang. I automatically answered it, not noticing that the call was from an external number. It was Lesley. I felt my heart jump; probably I thought she was calling just to confirm I was still coming, as if I wouldn’t be. She wasn’t, the purpose of the call was both annoying and confusing: she was cancelling. She pretended another pressing appointment and rescheduled my visit for the following Thursday, another whole damn frustrating week away for me.

I wondered if she realized what her call was doing to me. My frustration was already eating into me, and now damn it I had another week to wait before getting my answers, damn her. I muttered the normal platitudes, you know, ‘Oh that’s all right, don’t worry, next week will be fine’, and then the call was over and she was gone, hung up on me, dismissing me from her thoughts without a second’s concern.

It was about then that I remembered the tapping action, so I removed the top most sheet and looked at it; it was nothing, just more boring data to type up for the never ending records. Frustrated I glanced up hoping to see her but she had vanished. The next sheet down attracted my attention. It was neatly written, though erratic on the page as though hurriedly done. It said her name was Clair, something I had already found out. It added her surname which was Rhone, following that was an address and an invitation to tea at her parents’ home.

The thought of tea with her made me laugh, especially in the light of what I had been thinking that I would like to do to her pretty arse. I decided to consider the invite and perhaps make one of my own, something more grown up, something with better potential to get to know her better. At this point diary, I wasn’t really interested or for that matter hadn’t thought of f*****g the girl, I just wanted to ‘cane her bare arse’ until she cried. I wanted to squeeze her out of her shyness and get her out into the real world, for her own good of course dear reader, you understand I’m sure!

I decided to call her but not at her request, at mine. I decided that I would not ring that night nor even the next day. I would contact her when I was ready. I decided to let her stew for a while, let her wonder. If I would ever call, let her wonder if I wanted to know such a timid little thing. Oh, yes, the idea appealed. I spent the whole of the next day sitting at my typewriter fantasizing about her and exactly what I would like to do to her boyish little arse. I decided that I was intent on controlling the situation; it would be my choice and in my own good time, not hers. As for the offer of ‘tea’ that was just not going to happen; although the thought of taking her over my knee in her bedroom sort of appealed, especially if her parents were downstairs totally unaware of exactly what I was doing to their shy, probably innocent little daughter. Perhaps there were benefits to ‘tea’ after all!

Well reader you are beginning to see how my mind works or at least how it had been working since I had watched Lesley thrash the naughty boy in her classroom. I would dearly have liked to give his arse a taste of that cane there and then but Lesley, unfortunately, had not offered the opportunity. Now here I was planning and scheming to thrash a young female arse instead and, you know what, I was looking forward to it very much. Clair was going to get all of my frustrations and get them where I hoped it would do her the most good. Perhaps a hairbrush might be effective. I would try it on myself that night I decided, just to be sure. I realized that though I would dearly love to bend one of those canes across her arse carrying one in a handbag would be slightly awkward to say the least, if not totally impossible.

The first contact came two whole days and three sightings of Clair in the office later. I rang her at home and without any pretence at an invitation, I told her that I wished to see her that evening at my home, not hers. I gave her one hour to be at my front door, or else. I actually heard her suck in a hasty breath at the ‘or else’ part of my instruction. Then without giving her a chance to respond I hung up and honestly prayed that she would respond.

The reason I was able to invite her was quite simple; my parents were out at their weekly gathering to play bridge with the Allots, a couple that they had known forever it seemed to me. As for my brother he was out somewhere, probably with one of his geek friends, doing something with computer games or books or god knows what. I tidied my bedroom, selected a dark trouser suit and placed the hairbrush in an easy place to reach on my dressing table. I then thought again and not having ropes and things to use, I pulled out a pair of old tights, just in case I needed to secure her hands. These I added to the dressing table.

The front door bell rang. If it was her she was earlier than I had expected, she must have literally raced across town to get here so quickly. It was her, and very pretty she looked in her plain knee length dress and shiny shoes. I invited her in and deliberately locked the door and left my key in the mortice lock, just in case someone unexpectedly returned. I did not want to be caught out on my first s****l adventure in dominating another, especially when that other was a young woman. I took Clair’s coat from her without asking. She had it folded over her arm, neatly turned in on itself. I just took it from her arm and hung it on a suitable peg.

Turning towards her I said, “That way, Clair.” I held my breath to see if she would obey, she did much to my pleasure; it felt good inside to order and be obeyed.

Clair sat in the front room neatly perched on the edge of the armchair and looked terrified. She must have been wondering if I would call her or if I would humiliate her at work by showing the note she had delivered to me around the office. I had the note still; it was in my inside jacket pocket. I slowly reached into the pocket and removed it. She looked startled and if possible, a little more scared or timid, I was never quite sure which but it didn’t matter, I had her full attention.

Slowly I unfolded it and laid it on my knees. Her eyes never wavered for a second; she watched my hands and the paper and waited for my reaction.

For all my fantasizing, I had not really worked out exactly how I was going to progress the situation. My daydreams had centered around the spanking of this girl, not really the getting her to accept that spanking. Now I was faced with the dilemma of achieving just that aim. I read the note out to her, she listened, her head slightly tilted down. I could almost sense her humiliation but still she sat there opposite me and listened and waited. I asked her why she had sent me this note and what she expected me to do about it. She sat silent, head even lower; I was getting annoyed by her silence and in my frustration I shouted at her, not full bore but loud enough to get her attention. “Well girl?”

Her face lifted and I noticed both her red cheeks and the tears running down her face. I felt sorry for her. Well, guilty really for shouting at my little passive doe. She wiped at her face removing her tears, smearing the little makeup that she wore into the process. In for a penny in for a pound I decided and said again, “Well Clair?”

Her reply when it finally came was, “Anything that I wanted.” She, it seemed, liked me and wanted to be my friend. She hoped that I would reciprocate as she was… At that point she dried up again, lowering her head once more.

This was going to be harder that I could ever have imagined or so I thought. I reached out and lifted her head, looking into her eyes and told her that she was being very naughty. I told her that I liked her, which elicited a smile, but I added, “That I was very cross with her behaviour and thought that she deserved to be punished for messing me around.”

She to my surprise smiled again and then said, “If that was what I thought, then so be it.” I had got her agreement for me to punish her and it hadn’t even been that hard. I took her by the hand and told her that was exactly what I was going to do. I led her upstairs; to her and my first punishment session.

Clair followed, a lamb to the slaughter, with each stair that I climbed I determined that she was going to get it hard and if I could manipulate the situation. Perhaps not only the hairbrush and my hand, as I had thought to administer, there was a very flexible bamboo cane in mother’s pantry, flexible and painful I knew. My arse had felt its tender corrective attention on more than one occasion. I was beginning to hope that this time I might be the one to wield the stick and enforce the discipline. I was determined that it was to be Clair’s naked and bent over buttocks, that would be soundly marked with those deep red pain filled lines. Poor Clair, I can almost hear you thinking. Well hadn’t she asked for, well, at least stated clearly that I could punish her?

Exactly as I felt she deserved, and as such, why shouldn’t I enjoy myself. So shut up whining about fair and unfair and read on, that’s why you’re reading my diary, isn’t it?

You wanted to read and understand and perhaps get your own rocks off. So no hypocrisy allowed, is that clear?