From: <100576.724@compuserve.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.spanking
Subject: Jennifer wears leather
Date: 16 Apr 1996 20:47:33 GMT


I had just bought myself a new motorcycle; one of those dinky little Yamaha
600s with a bikini fairing. Unable to resist the urge to pose, I dressed in
my leathers and embarked on some boulevard cruising. Once in town, I stopped
outside a regular bikers' cafe and was just locking the bike when I felt a
tap on my shoulder.

"Jennifer?"
Turning, I looked into the face of Henrietta Adams. I hadn't seen her since
I left school some eight years previously. Then, whenever our paths crossed
I usually ended up with an extremely sore bottom. Henrietta Adams knew a
thing or two about administering punishment and I was a regular victim.
"Miss Adams," I said nuetrally.
"Please, call me Henrietta."
"Fine," I shrugged. She looked just the same, dark hair pulled back into a
loose pony tail, grey eyes that cut you in two and all the dress sense of a
hearthrug. A few lines around the eyes now and a couple of silvery streaks
in her hair, but otherwise, yep, just the same.

"What are you doing now?" She was asking.
"Oh, I'm in computers."
"Ah, doing what, exactly?" Her eyes wandered down my body, taking in the
leather jacket and jeans. I wore gussetted jeans laced together at the sides.
This meant that they could be adjusted and they pulled tight around my legs
and of course, bottom. These were tucked into knee length black boots.
"I support software," I replied.
"I see," she said. "And what did you have planned for this afternoon?"
"Oh, nothing much, posing about and stuff."
"Well, I live not far from here. Why don't you come back for a coffee and we
can discuss old times."

I raised an eyebrow. Old times, I wondered. All the old times I could recall
sharing with Miss Adams involved a sore bum - mine. Then again, my curiosity
was always getting the better of me as was my mouth. While I was thinking
about it, my gob was busy saying: "Thankyou very much, I'd love to." One of
these days I'll get it stitched up - before it does the same to me. 

We walked from where I'd parked the bike along several suburban streets and
stopped outside a large Victorian house set back from the road. Henrietta
led me along the path and pushed the door open. Following her, I walked
through the large hallway into a side room.

"Close the door."
Turning, I obeyed. Then the atmosphere plunged to minus Kelvin levels and
her voice cut like the facets on a diamond. "You clearly learned nothing
about decorum when you were at school."
Startled, I stood mute. She was right of course - I never was too strong on
the old decorum.
"I don't approve of young ladies who tear around on motorbikes and wear
leathers."
"I'm not a young lady." Hush my mouth - too late.
She stared at me, grey eyes boring holes into my very core. "Take those
leathers off."
For a moment I didn't believe my ears - she intended to spank me. Good God,
it was one thing to thrash me at eighteen, but now, at twenty six - she
couldn't be serious.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" She said.
I remembered all those thrashings she'd administered years ago and I
recalled how I felt afterwards. Slowly I slid my jacket off my shoulders and
let it drop. Then I pulled off my boots before wriggling the jeans over my
hips, letting them slide to the floor, and stepped out of them before doing
the same with my knickers. We stood facing each other. Me in nothing more
than a tee shirt and she, staring at my body, lingering on my minge. She
pointed at a chair standing in the bay window. "Fetch the chair."

Hips swinging defiantly, I obeyed, placing it infront of her in the middle
of the room. Before I knew it, she had grabbed my arm, swung me round and
sat with me prostrate across her lap. Almost immediately she delivered
several sharp slaps to my bare bottom. Pausing, she said "That was for
being tardy." I lay there saying nothing. Slap! "Well?"

"Well, what?"
Slap! Slap! Slap! "Well, what do you say?"
"Sorry."
Slap! "Sorry," Slap! "What?"
"Sorry Miss Adams."
Slap! "That's better."
She then applied another dozen slaps with me wincing at each one, my bottom
warming with each blow.

She stopped then and lifted me from her lap. Gently rubbing my buttocks, I
decided that her punishments were a lot tamer than they once were. Oh, well,
we can all be wrong once in a while.
"Follow me," she said.

Feet padding on the cold stone floor of the hallway, I followed, one hand
massaging my bottom. She led me through a door and down a set of stone steps
to a cellar. I breathed in sharply. The place was a dungeon. Along every
wall were hundreds of punishment and bondage implements. In the middle of
the room was a spanking bench - a little like a vaulting horse with a
leather top.

"Bend over the bench now."
I stood, mesmerised.
"I said now!"
"Oops, sorry."
"You will be."
Bending over the bench, I could see her through my spreadeagled legs as she
fastned my ankles to the legs of the bench then moved round to the front and
did the same with my wrists. I felt vulnerable and exposed - there was a
cool draught in the cellar and it played across the tender flesh of  my bare
bottom.

Having finished her preparations, Henrietta walked to the wall just out of
my vision, returning with an implement I had only dreamed of. "A birch," she
explained. "It's a shame we no longer use them for discipline in this
country, standards have fallen far too much, I fear."

"I'm sure," I muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing."

Swish, thwack! "Yeouch, owf, ow, ow, ow, that bloody hurt!"
"It was meant to - and no swearing, I won't stand for it."
Swish, thwack! Swish, thwack! The twigs on the birch bit into my buttocks, 
spreading a flame I could only have imagined - and then only becuse I had
once been on the wrong end of a bull whip. Swish, thwack! "Ah!"

"I will not have you behaving in such an unladylike manner," Swish, thwack!
"Ah! Ah! Ow!"

Swish, thwack! "Ow,ow,ow, shit!" Damn, me and my mouth.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"I told you..." THWACK! "That..." THWACK! "I would..." THWACK! "Tolerate
no..." THWACK! "Profainites." THWACK! THWACK!

My eyes were streaming and I was blubbering and moaning little sobs deep in
my throat. The searing pain left by the birch burned my bottom and I twiched
as she stood admiring her handiwork. Then she ran a hand gently, barely
touching the skin, over the welts. Slowly, electrifying my nerve ends, she
slid a finger down between my cheeks, pausing briefly to massage my anus
before moving further down, slipping her finger into the damp crack,
gently rubbing and manipulating. I came suddenly with a huge shuddering moan
"Oh, oh, oh, oooohh!"

Her work finished, Henrietta undid my bonds. I stood shakily and massaged my
weals.

"I expect you to present yourself next week for further training," she said.
"And no leathers, do you understand?"
I turned towards the door, smiling. Fine, let's see how the old bat
appreciates cut off denims.

****************************************
Jenny X