Memories Rekindled Ch 01
It was Monday morning, around 10am in England, in the town of Ipswich. My name is Scott, and I am now twenty-one. It was not cold, but a little foggy as I was cutting across the park to get to the other side where I lived. I had caught the bus into town to get a haircut and then had a full English breakfast.
As I exited the other park gate, I was walking back to my small two-bedroom, single-level house that I had recently purchased. I had been working in oil exploration since the age of eighteen overseas and had saved enough dosh to pay for the house almost in full. I was now working from home for a few oil companies to manage some of their raw data information and apply it to their specific needs.
I continued walking down Aldershot Road, which had busy traffic going in both directions. In a couple of minutes, I was going to take a right onto Dale Hall Lane, where my quaint, but refurbished home was located. As I turned down my road and walked past the first two homes, a woman in her fifties was approaching me on the same walkway, wearing a black waterproof Mac, and holding a long black umbrella for the upcoming rain session after the fog.
Suddenly, my arsehole puckered up tightly. It was Mrs Willis, my former Headmistress, teacher, and school disciplinarian. I had known her at my previous all-boys’ sixth-form College, Saint Joseph’s, from where I had graduated and left at eighteen. However, Mrs Willis had semi-retired when I turned seventeen. I was an orphan and my distant step-aunt in Australia had paid for my College and boarding fees as she was too old to take care of me. She had passed away peacefully a couple of years ago.
Back in the day as a boarder, Mrs Willis would often have me with my blazer off and set aside in her office, and my trousers and underpants off and hanging on a chair. My shirt and tie would be pulled briskly up to the back of my neck. I would be bent over pretty much naked on her large oval wooden table, clasping hold of the far side and ready for my knuckles to whiten as I fought to keep a hold as my bottom stung as she thrashed me, or secured with leather cuffs over her old brown leather spanking horse. I mainly looked at the desktop or the floor when I was bent over the spanking horse. I knew I had broken a rule each time, and so I needed to be thrashed each time, and so whilst I was increasingly concerned about the painful thrashing I was going to be given, I knew I deserved it, every single time.
It helped, I suppose, that I had feelings for Mrs Willis. Feelings of submission, but also sexual feelings, given I found Mrs Willis to be so attractive and fanciable. When bent over and ready to be thrashed, I would glance to the side when she was in view, and I loved how she was usually in a short-sleeved dress, and I loved looking at her bare arms. Her dress was well below her knees, but I could see her calf muscles and loved that sight as well. Yes, I did have a definite desire to be in her Study, almost like being on a date, even with the pain to come. I never supposed that she felt the same way, but I often imagined that she had those same feelings for me, rather than reverse feelings of dominance over me.
Then came the punishment, which was painful but necessarily so. Her assortment of leather straps or tawses would often bite into my bare virgin bottom, and she would soon have me moaning and crying as she scolded me loudly. The pain of the tawse increased with every lash, but I forced myself to stay in place, which, of course, wasn’t a problem at all if secured by the leather cuffs to the spanking horse.
After the whipping, I was given corner time for thirty minutes to an hour to calm myself down, or just kept secured to the horse until I had calmed down, whilst she would continue to mark a stack of her classroom homework assignments from her students. After that, I would be allowed to leave her office, or, sometimes, she would also give me a baker’s dozen from her many bamboo canes of different lengths and thicknesses. The caning would be followed by some more corner time, and then I would be sent off to my next classroom.
Once back in the classroom, it would be exceedingly difficult for me to sit on those hard wooden chairs, and all my classmates would know from the way I was squirming around on the chair that I had been sent to Mrs Willis to be punished.
Just to be clear, I was very fond of Mrs Willis during those years, and whilst she was quite strict, I was one of her more favourite students. She even made me a Prefect when I was seventeen.
What I remember about each time I was sent to Mrs Willis to be thrashed was sitting in the secretary’s office by the door to Mrs Willis’s Study, listening to the whipping or caning of the boy before me. It was so horrible, but, of course, nowhere near as horrible as when that same punishment would be given to me.
On the other hand, and the real plus for me, was that us boys were given one, two, or even three days’ notice of our appointment with Mrs Willis. I was not one of the better students so far as my concentration went. However, in those run-up days, I did focus, and also for one or two days afterwards, whilst my bottom was still stinging. It was during those times that I got my best marks in my College work. So, the pain led me to be a better student, and all thanks to the ever-so strict Mrs Willis.
Today, in the street, as we were just passing each other, we both stopped and, as before, like all those times back in College, Mrs Willis barked, “Young Scott! Is that you, boy?”
I replied, “Hello, Mrs Willis. Yes, it is me. I thought it was you.”
We chatted for a couple of minutes in the foggy street, and I invited Mrs Willis to my house for a hot cup of tea, which she accepted as she wanted to see what my money had bought me by sacrificing my time overseas in the desert with oil exploration. She was impressed after the penny tour. Thank goodness that I had cleaned my house the day before.
Mrs Willis was happy that I was not living like some of the other lads my age. I had made us a large pot of tea and served her tea and biscuits in my limited number of Bone China cups and saucers.
During our chat, I found out to my surprise that her larger home was about an eight-minute walk a little further down the same road as mine, in the posher part but on the same side of the street as me. Mrs Willis explained that her home was a large double-story house with a long drive from the entrance of the street and a remote or keycode entry to open the large and tall metal gate. She had a well-kept front and back garden and high red-brick walls at least ten feet high to keep the noisy public at bay.
During her second cup of tea, and because I was now older and in my very early twenties, Mrs Willis had confided in me that she was bisexual and had her good friend, Mrs Mildred Carson. From the age of nineteen, Mildred had been in a Female-Led relationship with her eighteen-year-old boyfriend, Desmond. It had lasted for about two and a half years, and he had wanted more of a say in their relationship, which Mildred had denied him without any compromises. Being single again, she discovered that she had maternal feelings, including demanding full control of any relationship she was in.
So, what Mildred had realised was that she had very strong maternal feelings, in a way, similar to those that Mrs Willis had. Whenever Mildred thought about giving another woman a spanking, she realised that it wasn’t just girls her own age that she imagined spanking, but also much older women, closer to her mother’s age. That was why she was very happy to be in a relationship with Mrs Willis, and had confided in her that she had even hoped that one day she would be able to spank Mrs Willis.
Mrs Willis smiled as she told me that, as though it clearly was never going to happen. However, she never actually said that, and so, whilst we were talking, I didn’t really know what Mrs Willis‘s inner feelings were, given the disciplinary role that she held at the College and performed so regularly.
During my second cup of tea, along with a biscuit, I had gathered up the courage to politely ask Mrs Willis if she missed having all those boys to boss about when she had been the headmistress. There was a twinkle in her eyes when she sipped her tea and replied that she really had never stopped. Since she had chosen to live alone in her house, she had accommodated other College-aged boys who sought her occasional stricter attention instead of being expelled or having a police record. Her fellow teachers in higher positions had outsourced her (not financially) to deal with each student and help them to refocus and to stay on task in lieu of having a record. So, she was doing simply fine for the moment.
With the same twinkle in her eyes, she asked me if I was in any type of relationship or dating a woman or girlfriend at the current moment, and, if so, was my partner able to help me focus better like she had helped me to do when I was at College.
I blushed for a moment, and she could see my cheeks turn a little redder and was amused by that.
My throat was a little dry, and I coughed and sipped some more tea. I then explained that I did not have a girlfriend or significant partner right at this moment. Working in oil exploration for almost four years, six weeks on and then two weeks off, stifled dating anyone on a continuous basis. I had done a lot of travelling and dated some tourists overseas while on different holidays, but I had only just got settled in my new home here in the UK and hadn’t really had the time for a serious relationship. Not until now, at least.
I wanted to add what I really wanted in a girlfriend, that I wasn’t into girls my own age, but preferred older women. I knew that sounded just like Mildred, but it was the truth. I wanted the older dominant woman to control me because I had done so well under Mrs Willis’s strict control and didn’t see any reason to do things differently just because I was now older. I preferred an older woman who would have disciplinary control over me as that had worked best when at College. In fact, in my heart of hearts, I knew the woman I wanted to have control over me again was Mrs Willis.
However, before we could discuss any more, Mrs Willis suddenly realized the time and thanked me for the hot tea and biscuits, set her cup and saucer down, and then stood up. I had forgotten that she was quite tall. I could see she had a bosom behind her tight-fitting cotton shirt. She had a very adorable, meaty peach-like bottom that complemented her pear-shaped body. Her eyes cut right through me and looked deep into my heart, even now at the age of fifty-eight. Her legs were long and semi-muscular, and when seated on my living room sofa, she had a very inviting, plump, but not fat, lap to be put across, which to date I had not yet been put across. She still wore retro, mature clothing, and her pepper and salt hair was now shorter, but still touching her shoulders. It was not long enough to put into a ponytail, but her hair could still be pinned up into a bun if required. She was still wearing a drop of her expensive perfume that lingered up my nostrils as she kissed me on my cheek and thanked me again for the tea, but she had a previous appointment that she needed to walk to and attend.
Before she left, Mrs Willis told me that we should not be strangers now that I was almost settled back in the UK and that she would love to hear about some of my Oil Exploration stories. As I opened the front door, I handed Mrs Willis her long black umbrella and she handed me her calling card with her phone number, address, and email address. I wrote mine on a piece of paper and happily handed my scribble over to her. She used her umbrella with confidence as a walking stick as she stepped outside into the still foggy morning. Then, she had turned around to face me, now wearing her expensive waterproof black MAC and matching black ankle boots and matching thick and warm expensive black stockings. I wondered to myself if Mrs Willis still wore stockings and garters as she did when she was my strict Headmistress, swinging her long, wispy bamboo cane through the air and marking long red stripes on my young and boyish, virgin, white bottom, and me screaming after each stroke to no avail.
For a moment, Mrs Willis was smiling at me and wagging her finger at me, and then stopped and said, “You know, young Scott, you never did answer my last question that I asked of you. In fact, you re- directed your answer, but I do not believe you did it on purpose, lad.”
I still didn’t have the courage to admit my true feelings to Mrs Willis, and I replied, “Oh dear, my apologies, Mrs Willis. What was it again?”
Mrs Willis said, “Well, let me ask you again in a different manner, because I am such a nosey parker when it comes to my younger previous students, such as yourself. When you begin to settle down properly here on Dale Hall Lane, and start looking for a partner, will she be the type of person to help you keep focused and task-oriented on a daily basis, like I used to do to you at Saint Joseph’s?”
Mrs Willis could see I was trying to produce an answer on the spot, but raised her right hand up at me to stop, smiled, and then spoke again. “Young Scott, this is not a quiz,” she smiled. “When you have more time to think about it, please call me or send me an email. Remember, I am just up the road if you need anything, and if you need help or an extra pair of hands to get your home in order, I can help you with that, too. If you need my help to focus properly until someone else can, I can certainly help you with that as well. Now, do not let the outside chill into the house, darling; I will catch up with you soon enough.”
I had watched as Mrs Willis opened her black umbrella and turned to walk to the curb of Dale Hall Lane and continued to her appointment. I closed my front door and realized I was semi-erect. There was a new Phoenix rising from the ashes, and I had an adolescent feeling of being reborn. I just wish I had had the courage to tell Mrs Willis the true feelings I held for her.
That was just one week ago. The day after Mrs Willis came to me for tea, when I was having breakfast, I did get the courage and emailed her and said that I needed help focusing on my work. I also answered her unanswered question and said my ideal girlfriend was an older woman, perhaps one her age, who would help me focus on the important things in my life.
Mrs Willis immediately replied, telling me to come to her house straight away. She would certainly help me focus, so long as I accepted her disciplinary control, just as I had done when at College.
As soon as I saw her email, I got so excited, proven by the erection that I immediately had. I got my PC and walked the short distance to Mrs Willis’s house. I still felt so excited, albeit I was still very tense, as I walked up the path and rang the doorbell. I was delighted when Mrs Willis opened the door, keeping a stern look on her face. What was so good was that she was in a summary sleeveless dress with a much higher hem, which went almost to the tops of their thighs, and was far sexier than when wearing the clothes she used to wear at College.
Mrs Willis beckoned me inside and directed me into the dining area of her rather spacious living room. I put my PC bag on the table and then turned to look at Mrs Willis.
Mrs Willis kept her stern look on her face as she asked, “Following on from your email, you said you were into older women, my age, which I have assumed is so that they will make decisions for you. Is that correct?”
I immediately replied, “Yes, Mrs Willis. I have real difficulty focusing when I am working at home but alone. I mentioned to you how helpful it was to have you controlling me when at College, and I have pictured that happening at home as well. “
Mrs Willis asked, “You mentioned that my control over you helped, but that was very much linked to me using one of my leather tawses or one of my canes on your bottom. How do you see it working at home?”
I know that I was blushing when I replied, “Pretty much the same, Mrs Willis. It could be putting me across your lap and spanking my bare bottom, with your hand as well as a wooden-backed hairbrush. I have certainly fantasised about that.”
Just then, Mrs Willis took her eyes away from my face and looked further down my body. I looked down and realised that she was looking at my stiff erection. I looked back at her face and saw her nodding as though telling herself she fully understood what was quite obvious. I was embarrassed at making an admission, but knew that it was the right thing to do.
Mrs Willis looked away from my erection and back up to my face, and said, “If you are happy to submit to my control over you, I can certainly make certain that you focus on your work, or, if you haven’t, then I would make you suffer the consequences. Say now if that is what you agree to, but only on the basis that any argument from you at any time would lead to another punishment.”
I was so eager to agree and immediately replied, “Yes, please, Mrs Willis. I am so sure that it will help me focus whenever I am here doing my work.”
Mrs Willis said, “So, you would agree that my decision is final every time, Scott?”
Again, I replied immediately, “Yes, Mrs Willis. I definitely agree.”
With everything agreed, I settled down, pulled out my PC and switched on my computer, and started to work. However, it didn’t take very long for me to be thinking once again what could happen now that I had given Mrs Willis full control over me again. I hadn’t realised that Mrs Willis was sitting in a position so that she could see my face, and therefore could see that I wasn’t focusing on my work.
Mrs Willis suddenly announced, “I see you need to be redirected so that you focus on your work. Close the computer, stand up, take off your trousers and underpants, and also take off your T-shirt, because you are now going to go across my lap for a spanking. I have the wooden-backed hairbrush ready.”
I gasped but knew that this was exactly what I hoped would happen. I immediately stood, pulled my T-shirt over my head, put it on one of the dining chairs, and then kicked off my shoes, undid my trousers, and pushed them down to the floor, catching my underpants on the way. I stepped out of both, folded them, and put them with my T-shirt. I stood back up and looked at Mrs Willis, waiting for her instructions.
Mrs Willis went up to one of the other chairs, turned that around into the room, and sat down. It was a delight to see her with the dress right up at the top of her thighs, meaning that I would be lying across her bare thighs. Moments later and I was bent across Mrs Willis’s lap, my face was very close to the floor, I could see my legs dangling onto the first side of the chair, but, far better, I had a close-up view of Mrs Willis’s legs and calf muscles.
I did wonder what Mrs Willis thought about the fact that my stiff erection was also lying across her bare thighs, and it made me smile. Given that she had deliberately yanked her dress up, that told me that that was what she actually wanted to have happen. I hoped so, anyway.
Next moment, I felt Mrs Willis’s hand rubbing my bottom in circles, and a few moments later felt the first spank on my bare bottom. It wasn’t that it hurt so much, but it brought back such great memories of being disciplined by Mrs Willis. This was the first time she spanked me rather than punishing me with the tawse or cane, but I was just happy she was giving me the punishment that she wanted to give me.
As the spanks continued to land, my bottom did sting increasingly. I realised that the number of spanks with her hand was substantially more than the number of lashes with the tawse or strokes of the cane, but given how hard she was spanking me, she was clearly enjoying it. Maybe she felt that a spanking wasn’t the right punishment at College, but here, in her own home, it felt right.
I knew I had misjudged things when Mrs Willis started to spank me with the hairbrush. By the time she had given me a couple of dozen spanks with it, I realised that it hurt even more than the tawse or even the cane. There also seemed to be a greater feeling of submission, or maybe it was more the control by Mrs Willis over me. Either way, I certainly knew I wanted this to happen, even as I could tell that tears were not just welling up in my eyes but were dribbling down my face.
I knew I was crying by the time Mrs Willis stopped spanking me with the hairbrush. She let me recover a bit whilst still over her lap, although she did still rub my bottom. Eventually, though, she did tell me to get up and go and press my nose against the wall. That was a clear reminder of what used to happen in her Study at College.
After that, I went back to doing my work, and, just like when at College, I was able to totally focus on my work given the way that my bottom was stinging. That told me that, without a doubt, it was right to be subject to Mrs Willis’s disciplinary control whenever I needed to focus.
Once I finished my work, Mrs Willis said, “I expect you to come back, Scott, whenever you need to work at home. Maybe next time you can even stay overnight. I have a spare bedroom, or the bed in my bedroom is a double. We can sort that out next time.”
As I walked home, I was incredibly excited by what had happened. I hoped no one saw the bulge in my trousers as I walked along the street, but I knew it was clearly there. Yes, I would be returning to Susan Willis’s house to be subject to her disciplinary control, and, given what she said, maybe more than that as well. What a great day it had been.