The Mountain

[handygent]

The Mountain
My task as senior supervisory master to the group of undergraduates in my charge was a mixed blessing.
Mountaineering, whilst not an essential prerequisite to academic achievement carried with it a character building advantage that was never in dispute.
Generally things went according to plan, hot headed and youthful spirits were met by serious challenge that moderated behaviour for the common good. Occasionally however, as in the case I am about to relate, one individual blessed with remarkable learning skills but very little common sense put our party at some risk on more than one occasion.

I am known for my traditional and no nonsense methods of dealing with problems at the outset. My reputation of employing corporal means of correction preceded me, and formed one of the more eccentric facets of my character that, owing to the exclusiveness of the educational establishment in which I was employed, was accepted without question.
The individual concerned must be punished, and shall be as soon as the opportunity arose, but a cane is not something to be found on the mountainside and I could not be expected to carry one in anticipation of this eventuality, that really would be quite eccentric in my view.

It was upon our descent, and arrival at the penultimate hostelry on the lower slopes, that the only realistic opportunity became plausible and my unenviable but necessary obligation to demonstrate to all that safety matters cannot be compromised became a matter of urgency.
With all students safely ensconced in the hostel I alone made the short excursion to the isolated cottage that I had noted on our ascent some several days before, bent upon a mission that could save the day – or destroy it.

There was something about that cottage, or rather outside it.
Female clothing pegged to the line indicated by its restrictive and, to my mind, fetishist nature that the owners might well hold traditional views on correction similar to my own and may even possess the item that I sought.
Intuition played a not inconsiderate part in my determination to settle the matter as expeditiously as possible. I had a bee in my bonnet and those who know me will attest to my tenacity once the bit is between my teeth. It was in this frame of mind then that I approached the cottage door, justifying to myself the ‘ordinariness’ of my somewhat unusual request.

A lady answered my knock and by her upright stance and mode of dress I recognised immediately that she was the owner of those items on the line.
She was an attractive woman and a very pleasant one. Her face showed a trust that was all too generously endowed to a complete stranger, especially one about to ask such a delicate and arguably evocative request.
I explained who I was and said something of my reason for being there but only when she invited me in did I feel able to broach the purpose of my visit.

“Please come in Sir,” she said, adding, “It is a cold evening and I am sure that you could do with something to warm you up?”

“If you are sure?” I ventured, stepping inside and availing myself of her offer to take my coat and gloves.
She moved with difficulty and it was a while before I realised that the reason was due the restrictive corset that she wore under the oversize shirt that disguised her choice of self control and the resultant wasp waist. By contrast her buttocks looked generous and well proportioned despite the ankle length and rather drab skirt.
We talked generally, sipping the almost ritualistic tea from locally made ironware mugs before she let slip that, until her husband’s return from his naval exercise, (some three months hence), she was left to fend for herself.
I decided that, in the circumstances, I could not now broach the subject of my mission and even less ask if she had an item of correction in the household.
My reticence was short lived however and encouraged by her interest in my profession and of certain aspects in particular.
I found it easy to converse with someone who showed such fervour. She wondered, for instance, how effective control could be maintained now that, as she put it, ‘the teacher’s claws have been trimmed so much that they are virtually useless’.

I assured her that I was one of the ‘old school’ and still had my claws intact, in fact that was the reason for my visit.

“You are an adherent of corporal punishment?” she gushed, “How delightful.”

“Oh yes,” I informed her, “I am a man to be reckoned with I can assure you.”

“I can see that you are Sir,” she said playfully, “I realise that I shall have to behave well or risk being one of your victims.”

I explained that I was not short of ‘victims’ and in fact I had the unenviable task of conducting a punishment this very evening, assuming that I can locate a serviceable cane.

“I think that I can help you,” she said, her face reddening and her breathing hampered by the unseen tightly laced corset.
“We do have such an instrument in fact, and it has been a while since its services were called for………….at least a year.” The last comment whispered and tinged with regret and possibly not for my ears.

She asked me to accompany her, once I had expressed an interest in seeing the instrument, and, as I followed her along the passage to the cupboard under the stairs, I began to appreciate the burden that she had imposed upon herself. The pain that her rigid undergarment imposed was obvious from every step. Her spine was locked and she walked as though treading on glass shards but to what purpose? I was not expected and neither was another or my welcome would have been restricted to a few pleasantries.
With great difficulty she unfastened the cupboard latch and swung open the door, reaching behind it to unhook the loop of leather from its hook.
Sarah, for that is the name that I awarded her once it became obvious that she wished to remain anonymous, offered me the instrument reverentially resting it upon her upturned palms.

“Isn’t it magnificent?” she said softly after I had completed a perfunctory arc with my customary flourish.

“It’s perfect,” I confirmed, continuing, “Would you mind if…………”
My question was cut short by her enthusiastic interjection.

“A thing like this ought to be used for its intended purpose,” she said. Looking me straight in the eye despite her uncontrollable blushes, “I would be thrilled for you to make use of it……but on one condition,” she said apologetically.

“You want it back? But of course, I shall return it this very evening once I have dispensed with my unfortunate duty,” I assured her.

She smiled and placed her hand upon my arm, “And would you stay for a while then please Sir? You will be tense and I do understand these things.”

I gave her my word fully in the knowledge that, however unpleasant was my duty of correction, Sarah would somehow compensate – how right I was proved to be.
When I returned just over two hours later Sarah had provided wine and snacks as a welcome back gesture, not that one was needed.
Throughout my distasteful obligation it was this moment that kept me focussed and with every stroke that I delivered the ordeal was sweetened by thoughts of her.
A revolutionary thought occurred to me and the concept of administering a flogging to a willing recipient, that would transform a painful duty into a pleasurable one, was born.
What could have inspired that thought, I wondered? But seeing her again and the look on her face answered my musing.

“Come in Sir,” she said, once more taking my coat and gloves and placing them on the stand before moving to the small but comfortable lounge.
“May I take that from you?” she said, relieving me of the cane.

I watched transfixed at the manner in which she handled the instrument, almost as if it were a holy relic she touched it along its length to enjoy its power and to savour the last burning embers of its severity, only minutes before.
“You do not have to rush away?” the question asked earnestly.

“Not without doing justice to that fine bottle of wine,” I said, attempting to add levity to the wonderful tension that was building inside me.
The wine worked its magic and gradually our conversation reached the only truly pressing item on our agenda.
She wanted to know if the cane performed effectively. That seemed to be important to her, and as we spoke she allowed me to see a very private part of her, a part that would be shared by her husband, if he were present.

“It could not have escaped your notice Sir,” she began, “That I choose to place a burden upon myself and to suffer the tight lacing of restrictive bondage?”

“It has not,” I replied, “In fact your choice was apparent by your washing line and first emboldened me to ask for your assistance. I am indeed indebted to you for your assistance in what would otherwise be, for me, a most unsatisfactory situation”

“I knew that you would understand,” she said, moving closer on our shared sofa, “We are quite alike,” she added mysteriously, “And your beliefs could match my husband’s quite extraordinarily.”

“May I ask?” I ventured hesitantly, “Whether your husband saw it as his duty to chastise you occasionally, maybe to the extent of using the cane?”

“Frequently,” she gushed, “I need it regularly and he took pleasure from it, we both did. Now that he is absent I have to take other measures not nearly so effective.”

“The corsets?”

“Yes,” she replied, “They keep me in my place and remind me of who I am. They are my chastisement until something more fitting becomes available.”
She looked into my eyes and did not have to say any more.

“I did say that I was indebted to you,” I said cautiously, selecting my words with care, “I am, as you know, available right now, but ‘fitting’ well that is a judgement best left to your husband.”
She touched my arm again and in her eyes I saw her plead, “Sir, I know him and he would want what is best for me, I am sure of that.”

I took another deep draught of wine and felt the warm flush of its subtle potency fill me.
I wanted to bare her buttocks and to stripe her flesh for the pure beauty of it; a recreational flogging the like of which has never been known to me before and may never again.

“Very well,” I agreed, “I shall cane you until you ask me to stop, then I shall take my leave, but be assured that I intend to enjoy the experience.”

“You wish me to flog you? To utilise the cane for the second time today?” I asked incredulously.

“I certainly want that,” She said seriously, “But it is not just about me is it? I want you to do it Sir but not as a duty like before but as a service to me and in the knowledge that I welcome the sting of the cane and the chance to liberate my body from its necessary restraint. He has a small office and a desk of just the right height,” she whispered, “The room is right in front of you at the top of the stairs. Give me a few moments please then come when I call.”

I drained the remainder of my wine and then the rest of hers. The wait seemed interminable but eventually I heard her voice, “Sir, I am ready.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, the cane clutched in my sweating hand I pushed through the door to see her in her magnificence.
Gone was the drab outer clothing and instead was a beautiful woman encased in a tight basque that forced her waist into an hourglass and her buttocks into swollen mounds of deserving flesh.
She was draped over the desk, those buttocks presented perfectly for the rod. Resting upon her forearms she looked at me over her shoulder with a mix of schoolgirl wickedness and mature knowledge of her fate smouldering in those eyes.
“Please do not hold back,” she said, adding, “I am ready now Sir.”

My first few strokes were measured and cautionary but she soon made me aware of her tolerance.
“Harder please Sir,” she cried, “Remember this has been a long time coming.”

The beautiful stripes began to show - coinciding with her grunts and groans, a magnificent testament to the effectiveness of my actions. Those vocal outbursts complimented the visual evidence of my accurate delivery - they were, for me, her gift of thankfulness for attending to her immediate needs.
In return she taught me to expand my awareness, to include a more recreational element to certain acts of chastisement and how liberating it can be to provide release for a willing submissive and by doing so reward myself too.

[wazoolie]

lovely read, nicely done