Miss Bacon
by Jon - Australian authorI was in my 20's before I discovered the sensual delights of corporal punishment, which for me, is both an opportunity to indulge in sensual fantasies as well as a genuine need for correction.
I live in the outback and visit professional Mistresses during my holidays but my ultimate desire to be taken past my pain threshold has never been realised as probably due to the relative infancy of such sessions, my skin breaks before my spirit does and a sensible truce has to be called.
This was certainly not the case during my first genuine CP experience (apart from mild slipperings at school) which I suffered most unwillingly (but deservedly) at the hands of one Miss Bacon.
I was 14 when Miss Bacon moved in as a lodger of my mother, with whom she also taught, my sister being away at college. She was a wiry, athletically built woman in her 30's who had been in the WRENS (women's Navy) for some years before going into teaching. She was a pleasant person but I was a fairly obnoxious teenager and gave her cheek on more than one occasion.
In one such instance during a weekend when my sister was at home, she asked my sister over the meal table if she'd ever used her riding whip on anything other than a horse, "because there's a young man here whose behind could well use it's benefits!" My sister smirked and my mother remarked, "I gave up disciplining him after his father left, but if you have the energy to try, that's entirely up to you" Blushing furiously, I left the room. Nothing more was said on the subject.
This was 1969 and the year of miniskirts, tights having replaced stockings, it seemed, almost overnight. I knew my sister wore tights when she indiscreetly bent over on a couple of occasions and I became obsessed with finding out what Miss Bacon wore under her knee-length skirts. I knew Miss Bacon's door didn't shut properly and I took the risk of pushing it slightly ajar to try and peek on her.
One summer's evening, Mum had gone out and my sister was also out riding. I knew Miss Bacon regularly took a shower before going out in the evenings and risked a peek in her room as she prepared herself. There she was in a silken dressing gown with what were most definitely stocking underneath. Unfortunately, she was looking straight into a mirror and I was rumbled!
"Stay right there" she said, deftly springing across the room and taking my thumb in an excruciating hold she must have picked up in the Far East. "I think it's time for a little lesson, don''t you?" and she quickly undid the sash of her gown and tied my wrists together in front of me.
"Lie on the floor and don't move!" she ordered and went to the hall stand where my sister kept her riding crop. Miss Bacon was gone for some time and I suddenly realised my sister would have taken the riding crop. My relief was short lived as Miss Bacon reappeared brandishing the brush we used for sweeping the stairs. A specimen almost a foot in length with a broad, flat wooden back.
"This will do nicely," said Miss Bacon, taking off her gown. She moved a footstand next to the bed, put her foot upon it and ordered me to stand up. She grabbed me effortlessly around my waist so I lent across her knee with my hands resting on the bed. She dropped the brush with her right hand, reached under my stomach and expertly undid my belt, my trousers button and my fly, then yanked down my trousers and pants to my ankles.
No female had seen my bottom since I was about 8 and I felt a humiliation I have never had to endure since. But this was nothing compared with the pain of that spanking. Nothing in the sessions I have endured with countless Mistresses since involving intense flagellation compares with my 14 year old behind under the merciless wooden brush of the ferocious Miss Bacon.
Only the fact that our solid Victorian house was soundproof, I'm sure, prevented the neighbours from summoning the police and eventually even the athletic Miss Bacon couldn't hold me in place and we fell in a heap on the floor. She made me lie on my stomach with my legs under the bed where she sat on the small of my back and continued for at least another 5 minutes. Her new position effecting even more power and accuracy until I was black and blue from hip to knee.
After about 10 minutes of blubbering, I was given some cold cream, but I felt the effects for a good 2 weeks.
I never had cause to cross Miss Bacon again and she moved out a few months later. I have no doubt that she thoroughly enjoyed thrashing me but having had a lot of experience since, wonder if she could subdue me now!
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Copyright Mrs Birch 2011
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