textfiles/sex/EROTICA/L/lmalcolm.txt

LORD MALCOLM

Let me introduce myself.  I'm a robust, fun-loving, healthy, good-looking
and mature woman of fifty, and I've always had a keen interest in good sex.
Some of my most memorable encounters have involved the sexual awakening of a
young man, or boy really, largely by *my* skill and intuitive understanding
of what arouses these young people.  Many lads have received the benefit of
what I had to teach them about themselves, but none of them has been as
personally rewarding as the fourteen year old scion of the noble and wealthy
family with whom I work as nurse/governess.  Lord Malcolm, as I shall call
him, is being very well educated at Eton in the fine old English tradition
that includes caning as a frequently applied corporal punishment.

Ever since I once worked as the headmistress' secretary at a fashionable
girls' public school, corporal punishment has fascinated me.  This school
was bowing to change and had accepted a few boys as pupils when I was there,
although the headmistress, Miss Bellamy, disapproved of this but was
over-ruled by the Board of Governors.  She had always used the cane when
necessary on her errant charges, and the arrival of boys did nothing to
persuade her to abandon this method of discipline.  Her difficulty was that
when she caned girls she had always lifted their skirts and applied the cane
directly to the seats of their knickers; with boys she felt that even if she
made them take their trousers down, their underpants were invariably of
heavier material than a girl's knickers and thus the boys would get a
slightly less painful and effective caning.

She solved her problem in an innovative way.  She hadn't wanted to have boys
in the first place and she valued the humiliation of a caning as an
important aspect of the punishment.  So when she was compelled to cane a boy
she would first send the poor young fellow to the school Matron to be
dressed completely as one of her schoolgirls!  The poor lad would be so
embarrassed by this indignity that he would already be feeling punished and
humiliated when he later reported to her study wearing a schoolgirl's white
cotton socks, grey pleated skirt with navy blue cotton knickers underneath,
her white blouse and navy wool sweater.  It was impossible for him totally
to avoid meeting girls on his way there, and I know that on account of this
alone he would dearly have wished to be somewhere else!  And after she'd
caned a boy she would send him to his room for half an hour to recover; his
meetings with passing girls on his way there were the worst of all.  One can
imagine the shuffling gait, the hands clutching a burning bottom, and the
blotched face cast down as he tried not to cry in front of them.  I believe
the girls used to gather especially to see a boy in this predicament!  Miss
Bellamy would always ask a member of the staff to be present when she
administered a caning, so that potential legal consequences would be
avoided, and I was intrigued at how eagerly the one selected would respond
to the request, and especially when it was a *boy* to be caned!  I suppose
there was something very erotic about a boy dressed as a schoolgirl bending
over and touching his toes, and having his skirt raised to reveal
schoolgirl's knickers covering a quivering bottom that was about to be
soundly caned.

And then one day she asked *me* to be the witness!  A fresh faced young man
had been rude to a mistress in form, and Miss Bellamy had decided to cane
him.  What I saw, heard and felt that afternoon taught me the truth of this
eroticism.  Not only Miss Bellamy and I, but also the boy were all
remarkably affected by  powerful feelings.  So much so that after the caning
was over and the snivelling lad had left us, clutching a well thrashed
bottom, I begged Miss Bellamy to cane *me*, pleading that I should know what
the experience felt like.  So *I* then had to bend over at the same spot
recently vacated by the boy, while the headmistress raised my rather short
skirt to expose *my* bottom dressed in little short frilly white nylon
panties.  She told me she was going to give me three strokes (the boy had
got four) and this she proceeded to do.  The pain was indescribably intense
as the supple rattan was strongly applied to the lower part of my bottom by
a competent and experienced woman, uncannily skilful in putting the cane
straight and evenly across, and with that awful pause between strokes that
seemed to draw out the punishment and make it that much worse.  Later Miss
Bellamy told me it was the very thinness of my white panties that had
enabled her to see the welts as they were caused by her cane, and that this
helped her with the amazing accuracy of her strokes.  I learned a lot about
caning that day, and ever afterwards have used this knowledge very
effectively!

So it was with these memories that one day recently I dealt with young Lord
Malcolm in a way that became very memorable for both of us.  His parents,
the Duke and Duchess, were away for the week-end and Lord Malcolm had been
down at the stables tinkering with his motor-bike.  He returned to the
Palace filthy and oily, and rudely disobeyed me when I told him to use the
servants' entrance and give himself a good scrub before coming into the
decent parts of the building.  This was a test of wills between this rather
spoiled young man and myself, and I knew I couldn't let him get away with it
and go unpunished.  I took him by the ear and briskly led him upstairs to my
quarters, where I told him to get undressed completely and go into the
shower.  He was a little confused by my firmness, but he complied.  When he
was in there and starting to wash off, I hurriedly undressed myself and
joined him!  He protested at first but I was implacable; taking a firm large
scrubbing brush I soaped it up and started to scrub him down in a way that
had never happened to him before.  I scrubbed him so hard he was yelling,
and his skin became very pink and glowing.  Then I soaped my hands and
*thoroughly* massaged and cleaned his genitals, which caused him to groan
loudly, either with pain or with delight!

Finally I roughly dried him off, and taking his ear again I marched him into
my bedroom.  First I slipped into a pair of pink silky directoire knickers
myself, for decency's sake, and then I told him that now I was *really*
going to punish him.  I opened a drawer in which I kept some of his sister's
clothes, and selected a pair of her navy blue school knickers, and advanced
to him with these in my hand.  At this point still nude, he didn't know
where to look, such was his embarrassment.  But while I held them I made him
step into the knickers, and slowly drew them right up him (but having a
little trouble negotiating a huge erection that had become apparent).  I
tweaked up the thigh elastic, gave him a little pat on the behind, and then
told him to put on the other things I laid out; little white knee socks, a
white girl's blouse and a pleated grey skirt!  He looked *quite* charming
when all this was done, and although he wouldn't have admitted it I think he
was beginninmg to enjoy himself; how else the erection?  And I noticed how
*compliant* he had become, especially after I'd got those knickers on him.
Perhaps we women have a more powerful weapon here than some of us realise.

I quietly asked him if he agreed he needed to be punished, and he very
shamefacedly croaked yes.  "Right", I said, "I'm going to cane you young
man, and you will do well to submit to it, and keep still and keep quiet.
We both agree you deserve this punishment, and so you will deport yourself
with me as you are expected to do at school.  But first I want you to take
this cane and go to that corner and reflect upon your rudeness to me, and
how, with the help of the caning you are going to get, you will resolve
never to be rude to me in future.  Do you understand"?  

Reaching into the cupboard where I keep my cane, I handed it to him, and
trying not to cry he went to the corner.  He looked quite pitiful standing
there in his girl's school uniform, and looked miserably and apprensively at
the cane he was holding as if it could bite him (which indeed it was shortly
going to do).  I made him wait while I wrote up a "caning report" that I
would give to his parents when they returned.  This was a form-like document
that had been used by my school, and I had introduced it to his approving
parents when I came to work at the Palace.

"Very well now Lord Malcolm", I said, "it's time.  Bring the cane here.
Thank you.  Now stand on that corner of the carpet and face the wall.  Now
bend over and touch your toes"!  When he had meekly obeyed I turned up his
skirt and smoothed his knickers over his bottom.  "I'm going to give you
four strokes", I told him, and remember, keep still and silent.  I know how
boys are caned at school, and this is going to be no different".  I measured
my aim to the lower part of his bottom, touching it lightly with the cane as
I did so.  My cane is a sturdy length of rattan with a crook handle, that
had been given to me by Miss Bellamy when I had left her school.  It had
punished many scores of her girls and boys, and now it was about to leave
its marks on young Lord Malcolm.  

I stepped back a couple of paces, and then with an action I had long
practised I strode smartly forward and gave him my right-handed best.  The
cane made its expected terrifying sibilance a split second before it landed
with a thwack just where I intended it should.  The stroke was hard, and
especially because of his thin cotton knickers I knew what he must have
felt.  He couldn't avoid making a strangled gasp at this, but to his credit
that was all, and he stayed still.  I paused appropriately before his second
stroke, so that the full effect of the first would mature.  Numbers two,
three and four were all repeats of the skilful and powerful first, and I
noticed that the cane seemed almost to burrow into the soft flesh of his
buttocks.  All the strokes were full and squarely across him, and all were
within an inch or two of each other.  He *did* remain still and nearly
silent, and I know what this must have cost him.

Finally it was over; less than a minute from first to last, but oh what a
minute, for both of us!  *I* revelled in the chance to punish his naughty
bottom and put into use all the experience I had had from Miss Bellamy; *he*
was made to realize he would never be able to get away with rudeness to me.
I told him he could get up, which he did very slowly and stiffly, and lie
face down on the bed for a while.  After about ten minutes I went to hiim
and very gently took his knickers down to rub some witch hazel lotion into
his bottom.  The marks were angry red and white tramlines  nearly parallel
with each other, and I could almost *see* them throbbing I thought.  Lord
Malcolm's face was a study; his mouth seemed to be working outside his
control, and some tears were rolling down his youthful cheeks as he tried to
steady his breathing.

"You poor boy", I said, "I'm so sorry I had to cane you, but you *did*
deserve it, didn't you"?  "Yes I did", he whispered, "will you do it again
for me sometime?  Would you like to put me in a pair of your thin nylon
panties, take me over your knee and spank me 'til I cry?  Not now of course,
but when these marks are nearly gone in a couple of weeks.  Or would you
like to send me to bed in a pair of knickers and a thin cotton nightie, so I
can feel humiliated and punished and remember you giving me this caning?"
"I think I very well might do all of those things, Lord Malcolm", I murmured
to his ear.  "But in the meantime I want to teach you some things about your
body and mine that perhaps you don't know yet.  I'm going to start by
holding you here between your legs, and at the same time I want you to feel
my breasts.  *That's* right, these little things here are called nipples;
see how they grow when you touch them?

And thus Lord Malcolm lost his virginity.  We spent nearly the entire
week-end together; I know he will never be the same again, and even *I*
learned a new thing or two.  Some men and boys really are aroused by
submission to a strong woman, and a way for them to show this is to allow
themselves to be dressed in some feminine clothes and punished hard and for
real on their naughty bottoms!