Early the following morning, Erica led Mandy along the Long Gallery. Mandy, naked, wondered who it could be requiring attention at such an unholy hour. She glimpsed the green-baize door leading to the Games Room. What was the surprise, she wondered apprehensively.
The cropped blonde paused, turned abruptly to her left and entered through a pair of massive double doors. Mandy, disturbed by the lingering fear that Erica’s planned surprise might mean a painful encounter with a dominant, relaxed instantly. They had entered the room of a submissive.
Erica strode across to the bay windows and drew back the heavy curtains. Thunderclouds darkened the Suffolk dawn, filling the vast sky with their swollen shadows – and the promise of a summer storm. The submissive stirred sleepily beneath the silken sheets.
‘Today, you will be a nanny. Your uniform and equipment are over there.’
Mandy peered across at the crisp nanny’s uniform dress, buckled belt and sensible brogues, arranged by a long cheval mirror.
‘You will wake the resident up, then see to the usual nursery routine: bed making, breakfast and bathing. Be stern and dispense strict discipline.’
Mandy, edging closer to the bed, looked up and nodded.
‘Wake up,’ Erica barked, snatching up the silken sheet and dragging it down to the bottom of the bed.
Mandy gasped aloud. The sleeping resident was naked. A naked young man.
That was my surprise, Erica’s smile seemed to say as she turned to the double doors and departed.
The naked man stirred and rubbed his eyes. His nakedness sharply reminded Mandy of her own. Like Eve in the moment of carnal knowledge, she blushed and covered her breasts with her hands in a show of modesty. Like Eve before her, Mandy felt their swollen ripeness – as ripe and swollen as the stolen apple plucked from the tree of shame.
He opened his eyes, staring at Mandy’s blonde pubic curls. She dropped her hands down to shield her delta. His eyes widened as they devoured her breasts. Mandy’s gaze raked the bed, taking in the teddy bear, the Biggles book, the box of Bassett’s Liquorice Allsorts. The young man lay back on his pillows. He had dark, curled hair – expensively cut. His face was square, though lined with the burden of some heavy office. His mouth hinted at character, and the patrician nose suggested an easy arrogance: it was the face of a man accustomed to command. Army? A multi-national director? Her eyes met his gaze. She studied their cold blue quartz – but noted how wide they were with both wonder and expectation. Then Mandy recognised him. The young Turk, a political firebrand who had bullied his way to the brink of Cabinet. The Sunday heavies, with glowing editorials, had mapped out his path to Number Ten.
‘Who –’ he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
‘Say good morning to Nanny properly,’ Mandy ordered, getting into her stride instantly.
‘Good morning, Nanny,’ he whispered excitedly, a thrill lubricating his Etonian vowels.
‘Nanny must get dressed and then she will see to you.’ See to you. His flaccid penis twitched at the delicious threat of her final words. Mandy saw it stir in the mirror as she stretched up to take down the pale-ivory brassiere.
‘No peeping at Nanny putting on her scanties or it’ll be a smacked bottom before breakfast, young man.’
The shaft stiffened. Mandy, keeping her bottom towards the bed, gazed into the glass of the cheval as she filled the cool silk cups of her brassiere with the warm weight of her breasts. Stretching, she snapped the straps together. In the glass, her bosom bulged within its silk bondage. In the glass, his blue eyes glinted, wide with adoration. Planting her feet apart, causing her soft buttocks to joggle, she fingered the bra cups and adjusted them for comfort. The shaft between his thighs thickened appreciatively, and nodded as it rose.
Bending, at which he gasped with delight at her widening cheeks, she stepped daintily into the stretchy silk panties. Drawing them up luxuriously, she lingered at her thighs before snapping them into place. She thumbed the tight material where it snuggled into her cleft, and eased the bite of the amorous silk at her slit. On the bed, the naked man grunted.
‘I distinctly said no peeping. No peeping at Nanny in her silk underwear. I know you want to. Every naughty boy does. But I shall spank your bare bottom if I catch you looking at Nanny putting on her suspender belt and nylon stockings. Do you understand?’
Silence.
‘I said, do you understand?’ she repeated sternly.
‘Yes, Nanny,’ he said meekly.
The suspender belt hugged her tightly, framing and pronouncing her hips and buttocks superbly. On the bed, the engorged shaft rose in a stiff salute. Slowly, deliberately, Mandy rolled up the dark-bronze stockings and stepped into them. Smoothing down the sheath of glistening nylon, she palmed her inner thighs and slender legs until the stockings fitted like a second skin. The suspenders snapped into place, tugging up the darker band of bronzed nylon at her thighs.
In the mirror, she saw his left hand inching down towards his erection.
‘No. Nanny has spoken to you before about doing that, hasn’t she? You must not touch or play with it. What did Nanny say she would do if she ever caught you doing that?’
He swallowed, flushed with excitement.
‘Nanny will have to use the hairbrush, won’t she?’
‘Yes,’ he replied eagerly.
‘And how does Nanny use the hairbrush when punishing naughty boys?’
He remained silent.
‘Well?’ she demanded.
‘On my bottom. On my bare bottom.’
‘Exactly so,’ Mandy said, her voice slightly muffled by the uniform dress she was pulling down over her head. ‘Nanny will arrange you across her stockinged thighs, pin you down firmly, and then spank your bare bottom with the hairbrush until it is red and sore.’
Her blue and white striped uniform fitted her like a glove. Pleased, she glanced in the cheval mirror and patted her dark bobbed hair into place.
Moments later, replete in a plastic apron, nurse’s watch at her left breast and the leather brogues, Mandy the nanny turned to face the bed, meditatively buttoning up her starched cuffs.
‘Are the seams of my stockings straight?’
‘Don’t know, wasn’t looking,’ he replied sullenly.
‘Stop sulking. Now tell me, are my seams straight? Nanny needs to know.’ Turning slowly, she inched the hem of her uniform dress up until the dark stocking-tops – and the swell of her lower buttocks – were revealed.
After a long silence, the voice from the bed whispered yes.
‘Yes, what?’ she demanded primly.
‘Yes, Nanny.’
‘That’s better,’ she approved, approaching the bed and sitting down. ‘But I think you’ve been peeping at Nanny.’ Reaching across to close the Biggies book and place it on the bedside cabinet, she deliberately brushed the tip of his throbbing erection with her starched cuff. The shaft twitched in response. ‘And you’ve been eating sweets after lights out,’ she continued sternly, picking up the box of Liquorice Allsorts. ‘I’m very much afraid I’m going to have to punish you after all.’
The erection spasmed. She saw his knuckles whiten as he gripped the bedsheet.
‘But first, before I spank your bare bottom, Nanny will wash you.’
Retreating to the hand basin, she wet and soaped a flannel. Returning to the bed, she filled the air with a strong whiff of carbolic. She sat down on the bed and began to wipe his face vigorously. Submissively, he surrendered to the brisk flannelling.
‘Hands.’
He offered up each hand in turn, which she dealt with firmly. Having completed the task, she casually draped the warm flannel over his stiffened shaft. He gasped aloud.
‘Hands by the pillow, please, while Nanny washes you properly.’
The dark hair sank back on to the white pillow as he lay prone and passive, his naked body tensed with expectation. Closing the fingers of her left hand around the flannel-wrapped flesh-spear, she pumped and slowly squeezed.
‘No. No noise,’ she said to quell his groaning. ‘No noise while Nanny washes you.’
Within the hot flannel, she felt the captive flesh pulse. Gripping and pumping more fiercely, she gazed dominantly down into his eyes. She watched them widen, narrow – and then close. The harder she pumped, the faster his fingers scrabbled at the pillow, digging into its softness in an ecstasy of sweet suffering. Suddenly, his hips jerked up from the bed. The loud groan and the surge of wet warmth between her fingers signalled his release. ‘That was very, very naughty,’ Mandy whispered, peeling away the flannel and opening it up across the palm of her hand. ‘Just look what you’ve done, you wicked little boy.’
He struggled up on to his elbows. Their hands almost touched as, gazing down together, they inspected the sticky cloth.
‘You certainly are heading for a severe spanking this morning, my lad. I’ve never known such wilfulness. Reading and eating sweets in bed, peeping at Nanny when she was naked, watching her putting on her brassiere and panties, and now this.’ She folded the flannel in a talon of fingers. ‘I think we’d better have that bottom smacked before breakfast.’
Ordering him out of bed, she spread him across her lap and firmly pinned him down. His bare cheeks were quickly turned pink, then an angrier shade of crimson, beneath her spanking hand. He wriggled and squirmed but her grip was firm. As her hand swept down across the upturned buttocks, she felt his thickening shaft digging into her plastic apron as he propelled himself into her, his toes splayed on the carpet below. The crisp spanks echoed around the nursery as she chastised him severely. As she increased both the frequency and the severity of the discipline, he jerked into her faster and faster, rocking across her clamped thighs and driving his hot erection into the plastic apron. Mandy paused, deliberately fingering the scalded cheeks.
‘Nanny has a cane in her cupboard. A cruel little yellow wand of bamboo. You know that, don’t you?’
Trembling to contain his orgasm, he whispered his response.
‘If you splash Nanny’s nice clean apron with your sticky mess, you’ll get four strokes of the cane.’
She saw his buttocks spasm as he squeezed his thighs together. But her words had the desired effect. Stiffening briefly, he shuddered. She watched his hot cheeks tighten as he came – emptying himself into her plastic-sheathed lap. As the last twitchings ebbed and died, she fingered his bottom as if tracing where the four slices of the cane would cut. He moaned softly, parted his thighs in submission and slumped across her.
‘Did Nanny say four strokes?’ Mandy murmured, peeling his wet belly away from her plastic apron. ‘Better make it six for being such a bad boy.’
She left him kneeling on the carpet, head bowed penitently, as she stood up and removed her apron.
‘Just look at that,’ she chided, holding the apron aloft.
He looked up, his blue eyes meeting her stern gaze through the clear plastic. The centre of the apron was clouded with a wide opaque smear.
‘Stand up.’
He staggered to his feet.
‘Bend over. Touch your toes,’ she instructed, tossing the spoiled apron aside as she strode across to the cupboard, her menacing brogues silent despite her measured tread. The cupboard door squeaked as it opened. Removing a black and green railway engine and another teddy bear, she unearthed a thin bamboo cane. Swishing it twice as she returned, she saw his toes curl into the carpet.
‘Head down,’ she said crisply, levelling the wood against his recently spanked cheeks.
He drew his thighs together, the cleft between his buttocks becoming a thin flesh-crease.
‘No, legs apart. You know how Nanny wants you when she’s going to cane your bottom.’ She tapped the upturned buttocks dominantly. ‘Legs apart. Give me your bottom.’
The six strokes of the cane across the buttocks were delivered slowly, each measured swipe leaving a thin red line of suffering. Between the fourth and the fifth, she tapped the tip of his penis with the cane, saying, ‘When Nanny gives you an order, she expects you to obey it.’
His muted moan of delight was drowned by the harsh swish-slash of the concluding strokes.
‘Breakfast,’ Nanny said brightly, after returning the cane with a dry rattle to the top shelf of the cupboard, ‘and Nanny wants you to eat it all up.’ She pressed a bell.
Four minutes later, the double doors opened and Sonia appeared, bearing the breakfast tray. Lowering it carefully on to a small, walnut table, the pert minx looked across at Mandy and then at the caned man. Sonia’s eyes were wide – her grin wider. Mandy’s finger flew up warningly to her lips. Sonia nodded, turned and withdrew.
‘Eggie soldiers. Come along.’
He ate the fingers of toast dipped in a softly boiled egg. Mandy busied herself at the unmade bed, gathering up the teddy bear and smoothing back its ears with her thumbs. Outside, the morning was growing darker beneath a scowl of storm clouds. Soon, Mandy thought, the storm would break.
What next? How was she going to entertain this submissive? What did Nannies do, she wondered. What possible opportunities for sustained dominance and discipline were there in a nursery?
Lunchtime would be different, she decided. She’d order horrid food – braised liver or boiled cod in parsley sauce – and put him in a high chair and spoon feed him. Yes. And make him swallow every awful mouthful. He would rebel and she would punish him. Good, she thought. Then there was the school desk, she mused, picking up a Liquorice Allsort and popping it into her mouth. Yes, there was the school desk – but above all, she suddenly realised, planting teddy in a chair by the darkening window, there must be strict, stern discipline, and Nanny’s buckled belt.
She tidied up the bedclothes. ‘What is this?’ she inquired, holding up a fluttering nylon stocking which she had just pretended to discover under the pillow.
Don’t know, the shrugged reply implied. He swallowed the last of his toast and squirmed uneasily.
‘Stealing Nanny’s stocking? What a wicked thing to do. Come here this instant, you naughty little boy.’
He approached, his hands folded at the base of his taut belly.
‘Hands behind your back and stand up straight. No slouching.’
Obeying, he revealed his gathering excitement.
‘So, my lad, you steal Nanny’s nylon stockings, do you? We’ll see about that. Kneel.’
He dropped to his knees, almost as if genuflecting in adoration.
Bending down, Mandy quickly bound his penis with the soft, shining stocking, sensing the throb of the thickening shaft against her palm. She threaded the loose nylon between his thighs and let it trail between his ankles. He tensed, his body rigid with delicious anguish.
‘Nanny’s nylons are forbidden to naughty boys,’ she purred, standing in front of him, her brogues planted apart.
Below his belly, the nylon-sheathed erection nodded as it rose.
‘Nanny’s nylons,’ she whispered, ‘must not be touched.’ She inched the hem of her striped uniform dress up slowly. ‘But you want to touch, don’t you?’
He nodded eagerly.
‘Answer me properly.’
‘Yes, Nanny. I want to touch.’
‘But Nanny says you mustn’t. And Nanny’s word is law. You can look,’ she said softly, inching her thighs towards him, ‘and you can smell.’ She pushed her pubis against his face, feeling the aquiline nose probing. ‘And you can taste.’
He buried his face between her warm thighs, his hot tongue flattened against the darker bands of nylon at the stocking-tops.
‘Smell and taste Nanny’s forbidden stockings, you naughty boy.’
Already, the head of his throbbing, nyloned shaft was tapping at his hard belly. Mandy closed her eyes as the tongue lapped at her stockings, and fought to deny the hot pulse tormenting her slit. This, she fully understood, was the sweet taste of utter dominance. The dark delight of having a naked man in absolute submission, in supreme thralldom.
No. She must concentrate. She was an angel, serving both the memory of her late aunt and – she tried to focus on the fact despite the urge to come – her own financial interests. She must not succumb to the immediacy of pleasure.
Mandy opened her eyes. To her dismay she realised that she was rhythmically thrusting her pantied pubis into the kneeling man’s face. Bridling at her own weakness of resolve, she stepped back a pace and struggled to compose herself.
‘Nanny will now teach you, and teach you most severely, never to steal her nylon stockings again. Down. Get down. On all fours.’
As he did so, she unbuckled her leather belt and slipped it from her waist. The coiled length of supple hide felt surprisingly light in her open palm.
‘Bottom up.’
He crouched, the nylon stocking at his shaft still trailing through his thighs down to his heels. Mandy stooped and gathered up the slack. He grunted as she tightened it – tugging gently at his erection. Jerking the stretched nylon upward, she drew it between his cheeks, working the material deep into his cleft where it scalded the sensitive flesh. His groans melted into softer moans, as he wriggled in an attempt to escape her controlling domination. Mandy imperiously planted her left brogue down on his left buttock, quelling and subduing him completely. At the touch of the firm foot, he froze beneath her absolute authority over his nakedness.
‘I am going to give you a very special treat,’ she purred, yanking the nylon deeper into his cleft. ‘Nanny’s belt. Nanny’s brown leather, golden-buckled belt. I’m going to punish your bottom with Nanny’s lovely belt.’
He bowed his head. Down on all fours – captured and controlled by the nylon binding his shaft – he inched his buttocks up for the lash. Mandy shouldered her belt and tightened her grip on the nylon stocking, winding the bronzed tether four times around her left hand.
‘Nanny’s leather belt,’ she whispered, dangling the length of hide down and teasing his naked cheeks with the buckle. ‘Such a special treat for such a naughty boy.’
Flicking the belt up, she snapped it down instantly across the bare bottom. Grunting in his pleasure-pain, the crouching man spasmed in response. Mandy felt the straining erection tighten the stocking in her left hand. The belt whipped down again, and again, crack-snapping across his scalded cheeks. After the fifth lash, Mandy tugged the stocking, supremely controlling his engorged shaft. Whipping the belt down again, twice, she sensed the throbbing urgency of the captive flesh.
‘Three more red stripes across your naughty bottom and then Nanny will give you another little treat.’
‘Please, Nanny, please, do it, do it quickly. Now,’ he implored.
‘How dare you tell Nanny the correct way to punish you,’ Mandy snapped, teasing the swollen erection with the nylon stocking and tormenting the whipped buttocks with the dangling strap.
‘Nanny knows best.’
‘I beg you…’
She felt the taut stocking twitch as he trembled on the point of his explosive climax. She tantalisingly relaxed her firm grip, allowing the tight nylon to slacken a trifle. He squeezed his whipped cheeks together in an ecstasy of anguish.
‘No. Not yet. You cannot have your pleasure until Nanny has completed her task of dispensing your pain.’
His forehead nuzzled the carpet as he arched his buttocks up, arched them up as if yearning for the fierce lash.
‘No, wait until I’ve whipped you.’
Snap, crack. She brought the belt down. Then again, leaving another cruel red stripe across his cheeks. But before the leather had kissed his flesh for a third stroke, Mandy felt the stretched nylon straining as he came. She whipped the buckled belt down for the third stroke, savagely searing his buttocks, the swipe coinciding with his scream of dark pleasure. The final lash had established her absolute authority over him, rocketing him into a violent climax. Shivering and perspiring, he sprawled on the carpet. Mandy dragged the toe of her leather brogue down his spine, then squashed it into his whipped cheeks.
‘Time you had your morning wash. Come along.’
He shuffled after Mandy as she paced across to the hand basin.
‘Up. No, remain kneeling.’
As he steadied himself on his knees, the soaked nylon trailed from his spent shaft. He gazed up, his blue eyes swimming with devotion. Mandy unwound the stocking and wiped the tip of his twitching penis. Tossing the nylon aside, she ordered him to stand up.
He rose. She motioned him against the sink.
‘Nanny is going to wash you, now. Up on tippy-toe.’
He did as she commanded, spilling his balls over the edge of the white porcelain into the warm water. Scooping up a handful of creamy suds, Mandy washed his balls, palming them with deliberate firmness before squeezing them with a gentle severity that left him gasping aloud. A small cloud of sullen resentment darkened the sky of his blue eyes. Mandy squeezed harder; the clouds lifted immediately.
After rinsing the matted pubic nest, Mandy ordered him to turn round. ‘Nanny wants to wash your bottom.’
He turned but kept his thighs clamped together.
‘Legs apart.’
His reddening face became a stubborn mask.
‘Do as Nanny says,’ Mandy insisted, a stern note in her voice.
Still he refused to surrender and submit his bottom to her soaped fingers. A sudden, sharp spank made him blink. The spanked cheek – the left one – reddened but remained clenched. With waspish impatience, she spanked his bottom again.
‘Give Nanny your bottom,’ she commanded, a spank punctuating each terse word. Her voice was curdled with delicious dominance.
‘Shan’t,’ he blurted out. ‘Won’t.’
‘Silly little boy,’ she murmured, fingering his cleft silkily. ‘Don’t you know that your bottom belongs to any female in authority who wishes it? It is theirs, always, to control as they will. At prep school, the nurse will own it. She can examine it, punish it, whenever she wishes. And then, at boarding school, your bare bottom will belong to Matron. In the privacy of the san, she will give you many merciless rubber-gloved examinations – and frequently use the strap and cane across your naked cheeks. Your bottom is doomed to an eternity of female control and ownership. So stop being silly and part your legs and bend over this instant.’
Submitting to her stern authority, he bent over and surrendered his punished buttocks to her strict control.
‘Nanny does not like a sticky bottom. Let’s see if we can’t wash it nice and clean.’
Her soaped fingers explored between his cheeks, dwelling at the tightened sphincter.
‘Relax,’ she whispered venomously, sensing his continuing attempt at resistance.
Hesitating at first, he succumbed to her crisp command. Her index finger slid inwards.
‘Now Nanny is going to make sure that your bottom is properly clean, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, Nanny,’ he whimpered, thrilled to be enthralled.
Picking up a yellow nail brush, Mandy soaped the firm bristles before applying it vigorously to his sensitive cleft. Staggering forward, he crushed his swollen erection against the curve of the hand basin, smothering a scream of sweet suffering. The bristles skimmed his inner flesh with ruthless affection. He writhed, but Mandy pinned him firmly at the nape of his neck. All attempts to escape the burning flame at his cleft – and the even fiercer flames of shameful humiliation – proved useless. Nanny was strict and Nanny was stern and her little boy was helpless in her hands.
‘Always do what Nanny tells you to, understand?’
‘Yes, Nanny.’ He had been broken, his will now subdued.
‘Now touch your toes and give me your bottom completely.’
Slumping down abjectly, he proffered his buttocks. They were now hers, absolutely.
‘And this is what you get for even thinking of being so wickedly disobedient.’
She savaged his cleft for a full three minutes. Crying out, he lurched across the sink, squirting his hot seed. Mandy continued to ply the stiff bristles even as his shaft pumped out the spurting orgasm. Down on the carpet, his naked feet twisted in ecstasy.
‘There. Nanny promised you another little treat. Now Nanny is going to wash you again, and towel you dry. Then, I think, a nap. Yes. Nanny will put you to bed and you will have a little nap.’
‘Yes, Nanny.’ He shuddered as the rough towel began to torment his balls.
Curled up in bed, hugging teddy, he listened enraptured as Mandy read to him from Biggies. It was a ripping chapter. High over France, in a clear blue sky, Sopwith Camels gave the Hun Fokkers a good hiding. Propellers glinted, machine guns chattered and black smoke plumed from downed planes. Good vanquished evil in a world of black and white. As Biggies nosed his limping bus down towards a makeshift ‘drome behind enemy lines, the naked submissive, still hugging teddy, fell fast asleep.
Mandy closed the Biggies book quietly and contemplated her sleeping charge. He looked pale and exhausted, drained of the liquid lust she had drawn from him with spanking – or milking – hands. But on closer examination she noted with pride that he was drained too of the creased frown of care, the burdens of high office.
Politics – where half of your acquaintances were instant comrades but all who knew you were potential enemies. Biggies flew in a blue sky, his enemies clear to see in their brightly painted planes. The sleeping politician, she knew, patrolled a very different battle zone where everything was murky and the only colour was grey.
Smoothing down her crisp, striped uniform, Mandy felt pleased with her work. Here at Sternwood Grange, the movers and shakers in society, the people who really mattered, sought their solace. And it was granted to them: through leather, silk and supple bamboo cane. Remembering her late aunt with renewed admiration, Mandy turned her gaze down upon the sleeping face. She gently caressed a stray lock of his dark, curled hair. He was a perfect example of Sternwood Grange at its best. Destined to command, he came here to obey: shrugging off for a time the relentless pressures that besieged him.
How much? The question flickered across her brain. How much, she wondered, had he paid? Sophie had let it slip that all the residents paid in cash, in advance. Rising softly, Mandy tiptoed around the bed and across the nursery floor. In the adjoining dressing room, furnished in a more adult fashion, she found the wardrobe – and, in it, his dark-blue suit. Fishing out his wallet was the work of a moment. The House of Commons pass, club membership cards to Whites and the Athenaeum, several gold credit cards and his Coutts chequebook were quickly examined. The chequebook. She thumbed through the stubs, coming to the most recent. Good. The dates corresponded with his sojourn at Sternwood Grange. A four-figure sum had been drawn out in cash. Now she knew.
Replacing everything exactly as she found it, Mandy paused to add a mischievous touch. Skipping silently back into the nursery, she plucked up the abandoned nylon stocking and returned to the dressing room. It was still sticky with his spurt of hot release. Grinning at the thought that he might accidentally pull it out during a visit to the Whip’s office, she stuffed the memento amori into his inside pocket.
A soft sound brought her back into the nursery. Sonia had entered, bearing a large lunch tray.
‘Vegetable soup and rhubarb crumble,’ she whispered, pulling a gruesome face. ‘Nursery food for baby over there.’
Mandy took the tray and set it down carefully.
‘Asleep?’ Sonia asked, nodding across at the bed.
Mandy smiled. ‘Busy morning with Nanny.’
‘Ooh,’ the minx gurgled, bending down to inspect the sleeping submissive. ‘Don’t I know him? Isn’t he an MP?’
‘Yep, only just, though. He’s got a very small majority.’
‘Not from where I’m standing, it isn’t.’
They collapsed in smothered giggles. Mandy joined the pert little maid and hugged her, then spanked her bottom. Returning to the lunch tray, she started to pepper and salt the vegetable soup. Looking up, she saw Sonia playing gently with the flaccid penis.
‘Put that down,’ she hissed.
‘Only looking,’ Sonia said, pouting, returning the penis to its resting place between the darkly haired thighs. ‘Bit touchy, this morning, aren’t you?’
‘I can’t –’ Mandy began.
‘Mind you, everyone is this morning. It’s this thunder brewing up. Makes people edgy.’
‘Probably.’
‘Or because the mistress is coming tomorrow. Another flying visit –’
‘Celia Flaxstone is coming?’ Mandy snapped.
‘How do you know her name?’ replied Sonia in amazement. ‘Besides, Erica and Partridge have had a terrific row down in the kitchens and then Partridge went off in tears and then Erica punished all the maids without exception. Look.’
Pulling up the velvet skirt of her maid’s uniform, Sonia exhibited the damage done to her naked cheeks by the cruel wooden spoon.
Mandy approached, knelt and kissed the sore, red bottom better. Although the hot bottom was delicious, her mind was on other things. So, she thought, the mistress of Sternwood Grange is due tomorrow. Why? Had Mandy’s cover been blown? Preoccupied by this and equally disturbing possibilities, Mandy’s tongue and lips neglected the eager cheeks.
‘It hurt,’ Sonia murmured. ‘Kiss me better.’
Mandy smiled and, setting aside the rapid flood of speculations whirling in her brain, buried her face into the waiting cheeks. Soon her tongue was busy. Sonia inched up on tiptoe, thrusting her punished buttocks back into Mandy’s face. Lapping gently at first, then rasping the reddened cheeks more fiercely, Mandy tongued the ravished flesh.
‘Mmm,’ purred the maid happily, wriggling free at length. ‘I’ve got to get back. It’s all upside down today. I’m only a maid and yet Erica’s letting me serve lunches upstairs. Catch you later,’ she whispered. At the door, she paused and turned.
Mandy raised her eyebrows questioningly.
‘Tell sleeping beauty he gets my vote anytime.’
Mandy stamped her brogue silently; Sonia fled, giggling.
Trapped in the cage of polished pinewood that formed the struts and tray of the highchair, the naked man strained back from the spoon at his mouth.
‘Open wide,’ Mandy snarled.
He shook his head vehemently, refusing the soup.
‘Very well. If you won’t eat up, Nanny will take her belt to your bare bottom.’
He parted his lips and meekly swallowed the spoonful of soup.
‘Nice pudding if you eat it all up. Nasty, sore bottom if you don’t.’
The soup was finished in two minutes. Mandy brought the bowl of golden crumble before him. He eyed it greedily. The silver spoon winked above the delicious crust of caramelised brown sugar. Thick yellow custard anointed the fragrant pudding. Mandy plied the spoon deftly, heaping up a delicious mouthful. He strained forward, eager for the delicious crumble. At the last possible moment, Mandy withdrew the spoon.
‘No. You have been a bad boy. No nice pudding for you.’ She placed the laden spoon down in the sticky custard.
One of the exquisite refinements of the adapted highchair was the feature which Mandy had put to full use: it pinned the occupant’s arms straight down, imprisoning them completely. In his wooden cage of restricting bondage, the naked man rocked and writhed.
‘Stop that at once,’ she warned, quelling his tantrum with a stern gaze.
‘Sorry, Nanny,’ he wheedled. ‘May I have some –’
‘Nanny says no. No pudding for naughty boys.’
He hung his head down.
‘Still hungry?’
‘Yes, Nanny,’ he mumbled.
‘Nanny will see to that, never fear. Goodness, isn’t it hot?’
At the window, the pewter sky seethed, sulphurous with the impending storm. Mandy removed the wooden tray, but kept her charge penned in his pinewood bondage.
‘So hot,’ she said gently, ‘I think I’ll just unbutton this tight uniform. Would you like Nanny to unbutton her tight, crisp uniform?’
He looked up excitedly, the sulky mouth that mourned the crumble now smiling. He nodded eagerly.
‘Hmm?’
‘Yes,’ he whispered hoarsely.
She peeled down her bodice and exposed her brassiere-cupped bosom. The wooden chair rocked. She prised out her left breast, thumbing the nipple slowly. The highchair rocked violently.
‘Nanny most certainly won’t have her little chap getting down from his highchair still hungry, will she? No, of course not. Nanny will feed him herself.’
The soft breast, bunched up by the cup underneath, was swollen and ripe. The heavy mound of creamy flesh all but buried his nose as his lips worked busily at the hard pink nipple.
‘Suck slowly,’ she commanded, her slit quite wet from arousal as his hot mouth devoured her breast. ‘Ouch.’
He had inadvertently nipped her nipple in his excitement.
‘Sorry, Nanny,’ he mumbled, the words of contrition muffled as his lips pressed into her warm softness.
‘Nanny accepts your apology. Accidents will happen. Nanny will just have to train you more carefully, that’s all.’
Cupping and controlling her breast, she guided the erect nipple along his parted lips. Using the peaked stub of sensitive flesh like a lipstick, she traced the outline of both lips.
‘Please, Nanny, oh please…’ he moaned.
‘Be still and stay silent. Nanny will attend to you in her own good time.’
Dominating her captive nude, Mandy used her breast with wicked subtlety to humiliate and delight him in turn. Her stray fingertips casually brushed his penis, checking his mounting arousal. The shaft grew engorged, throbbing heavily as it hardened. Suddenly the highchair rattled and jerked – she sensed his imminent orgasm. Dropping down on her knees, she exposed her other breast, cupping it against the other so that her bunched bosoms bobbed a mere two inches in front of the twitching erection.
‘Yes,’ he hissed urgently.
‘Silence. Nanny is in strict control.’
She thrust her breasts closer, then closer still, until both nipples grazed his shaft. Bending closer, Mandy captured and imprisoned the shaft between her cushioning breasts and squeezed, working her warm pillows of satin rhythmically until, groaning and writhing in his bondage, he came.
‘Oh, dear,’ Mandy tut-tutted in her most Nannylike tone of dismay. ‘Just look at what you’ve done. You’ve made Nanny’s breasts all wet and sticky, naughty boy.’
She examined and fingered slowly his splashes of hot delight which had spattered her rounded breasts. Pearls of semen gathered at, then slowly dripped from, both her erect nipples.
Outside, lightning flickered down from the blackberry clouds, etching their solid forms with silver. Seconds later, a peal of thunder ripped the sultry silence apart.
‘Storm’s breaking at last,’ Mandy sighed. ‘Are you frightened of the thunder, little man?’
He shook his head, contemptuous of the suggestion.
‘Don’t be insolent or Nanny will take the hairbrush to your bottom. Now answer me properly. Are you frightened of thunder?’
Before he could reply, the room, now in gathering darkness, was lit up by a terrific flash of bluish-gold lightning. The crackling roar followed almost immediately.
‘Not scared.’ He shrugged.
‘Boasting is a very wicked offence. It is always punished most severely in every well-disciplined nursery,’ Mandy cautioned, her voice crackling with more tension than the static in the room. ‘Nanny does not like a coward, of course, but she will not tolerate rude and boastful little boys. Get down from your chair and go over to your bed at once.’
His eyes flashed sullenly as he clambered out of the wooden highchair. Mandy slapped his bare bottom twice, harshly, and ordered him not to dawdle. He turned, scowling, and rubbed his sore bottom.
‘Well?’ Mandy challenged.
‘Bully,’ he dared to whisper.
‘How dare you,’ she said softly. ‘How dare you question Nanny’s absolute authority over you. Get down on your knees this instant,’ she commanded, in a voice louder than the rumbling elements overhead. ‘Down on the carpet. Nanny promised you the hairbrush and the hairbrush you shall have.’
‘No, Nanny, no. Please, I’m sorry –’
‘Not so brave and boastful now, are we? Now that we are about to have our bare bottom hairbrushed, hmm?’ Mandy taunted, sweeping up the hairbrush from the dressing table and returning to straddle the snivelling, crouching man. ‘Bottom up,’ she barked. ‘Come along, get your bottom up, young man. Nanny’s going to beat you.’
She knelt, her nylon-stockinged knees brushing against his naked thighs. Mandy lowered the cherry-wood hairbrush – bristle side up – across the expectant cheeks. The polished wood kissed the surface of the buttocks; Mandy saw them spasm.
The growling in the sky was almost continuous now. The heat became almost unbearable. Mandy stood up, leaving the inverted hairbrush balanced across the crown of the buttocks, and stripped off her Nanny’s uniform dress. Now scantily clad in her brassiere, panties, suspender belt and shining nylon stockings – she had kicked off the brogues – she resumed her kneeling position. Picking up the hairbrush, after briefly but dominantly flattening the upturned cheeks with its polished wood, she placed her left hand down across the nape of his neck. Her wet slit pulsed as she felt his tamed nakedness squirm. In silence, she gazed supremely at the bottom she was about to set ablaze. Mandy’s tummy fluttered, so delicious was her mounting expectation: she relished the knowledge of his thick shaft burning into the carpet, of the suppleness of her wrist for superb spanking action, of the sharp sound of polished wood punishing naked cheeks – this knowledge seared her mind, making her brain as hot as her slit.
She took a deep breath to calm her agitation. ‘Nanny has a question for you,’ she said in a controlled voice. ‘Will this storm be a big one? Or is it going to fizzle out?’
‘Don’t care,’ came the surly response – most of it lost in the carpet.
The hairbrush cracked down. ‘Don’t care was made to care,’ Mandy whispered softly, raising the brush back up to shoulder height.
‘Sorry, Nanny,’ the naked man mumbled. ‘It will not last. It will fizzle out.’
‘Let’s hope you’re right, my little man. Why does Nanny say that? Because Nanny is going to use the hairbrush across your bare bottom every time the lightning flashes –’
Even as she spoke, the walls of the room around them seemed to lurch and dance as a blue and white veined fork bolted down outside the window. The blinding flash was followed by a huge, rolling crackle up above. The hairbrush swept down, swiping the defenceless cheeks pitilessly, leaving them reddened and ablaze. The buttocks bucked and jerked after the Judas kiss of the polished wood.
Then the storm broke: both in the Suffolk sky above and across his naked bottom beneath the cruel hairbrush. Seven times in rapid succession the dark sky spat out its dazzling fury – and seven times the rounded buttocks burned as the hairbrush cracked down savagely.
An eerie silence filled the brief lull. There was no flash of lightning – which meant a respite for the scalded cheeks – but a stuttering peal of thunder echoed across the darkened Suffolk landscape. The rain fell heavily now, hammering against the window panes. Both punisher and punished tensed expectantly. Nanny’s fingers tightened at her victim’s neck. A triple flash flickered, bringing the hairbrush down once, then again, and even yet again. The punished man cried out aloud, groaning his sweet suffering. Mandy clamped her thighs tightly together at his curdling moans, then parted them, peeling the damp nylons apart at the top of her thighs where the bronzed sheen soaked up her wet excitement.
Tossing the hairbrush down, Mandy mounted the naked buttocks, splaying her thighs across the punished cheeks and plumping her silk-sheathed bottom down on to his hot flesh. Straddling his reddened cheeks, she rasped the wet silk of her panties against them, then squeezed her nyloned thighs together, her stocking-tops tormenting his nakedness. Gripping him firmly as she rode him, bareback, she slid deliberately from cheek to cheek, grinding the sticky plum at her pubis into him.
‘Oh, yes, Nanny, yes, please…’ he moaned, his voice thick with drunken ecstasy.
She taloned his shoulders, her knuckles whitened, then drew her legs almost primly together and lay down on top of him, every inch of her body pressed fiercely into his. Perched on top, her breasts crushed into him, she rode him fiercely, pumping the wet silk stretched across her pubic mound into his crimson buttocks.
Outside the nursery, the storm approached its climax, the furious elements spilling over in a molten crescendo. Inside the nursery, a shrill cry of delight filled the room as, gouging his erection into the carpet, the naked man ridden by the nanny tensed stiffly and shuddered on the brink of orgasm.
Mandy sensed the paroxysm about to explode. ‘Not until Nanny says so,’ she warned.
He grunted thickly as her left hand clutched and controlled his thick, dark hair.
Scissoring her nyloned legs rhythmically, Mandy totally dominated her human mount: legs together, then legs apart, she maddened and bewitched him – and always her wet slit rasped his hot cheeks. He cried out long and loud, his exquisite pleasure almost choking him as she rode harder and faster, burning his shaft into the carpet.
‘Now,’ she commanded, rising abruptly and spanking his right buttock with her flattened palm.
As the spanking hand echoed sharply across the ravished cheek, she dragged her labia across the left buttock.
Arching up in the powerful splendour of orgasm, he roared his delight and came like a bull, almost tossing her off in his writhing frenzy.
‘You’ve been a good boy for Nanny,’ Mandy murmured, now completely naked.
He rolled over in bed and gazed up adoringly with softened blue eyes. ‘Thank you, Nanny. Thank you very much for a super day.’
‘Nanny thinks you deserve a sweet. Give Nanny the Liquorice Allsorts. I know you’ve hidden them under teddy,’ she said with mock severity.
He groped under the yellow bear, pulled out a box of Bassetts and surrendered them to her outstretched palm.
She placed the box on the bed, opened it, and then tapped his flaccid penis. ‘Up,’ she demanded.
It stirred but failed to rise. Gently, she thumbed his balls. Again, it flickered with interest but could not manage to stiffen to a full response.
‘Dear me,’ she whispered, ‘my little man has had a busy day. Let’s see if Nanny can help.’
The blue eyes widened anxiously.
‘Tell me,’ Mandy continued coaxingly, ‘how has Nanny punished you today?’
The blue eyes closed. His litany was brief but breathless. In an urgent whisper, he recounted the spankings, the leather belt, the cane and all the discipline of the day. As she listened attentively, Mandy saw the erection rise. By the time he had excitedly whispered the word ‘hairbrush’, he was sporting a thick, strong shaft.
Mandy settled herself on the bed, her heavy buttocks dimpling the mattress. Dipping into the box of Allsorts, she selected a brown, white, black and orange cube in a delicate pincer of finger and thumb.
‘Open wide,’ she instructed.
He sank his dark curls on to the white pillow, Lips parted greedily. Mandy, instead of placing the sweet on his tongue, gently lowered it down on to the tip of his glistening erection. He groaned, his wide eyes staring in fascination.
‘Keep your mouth open,’ she warned. ‘Two strokes of the cane for every one you miss.’
His penis quivered, almost but not quite dislodging the perched sweet. Mandy eased herself down, squashing her naked breasts into his lower thighs, and positioned herself at the thickened shaft. Aiming carefully, she curled her second finger into her thumb tip. Judging the angle, she flicked. The Liquorice Allsort vanished into his mouth. His teeth worked busily at the sweet as, down at the base of his belly, his shaft twitched.
‘Another.’
He shook his head, refusing more.
‘It was not a question, it was a command,’ she whispered.
He swallowed quickly and parted his lips.
There were eight sweets left in the box. Mandy took two for her own enjoyment and placed the remaining six on the sheet. One by one, they were positioned on his penis and flicked into his mouth. He had to strain to catch them and, fearful of the sweet severity of the cane, was careful not to miss. Each time Mandy flicked a sweet, she deliberately brushed his throbbing shaft with her fingertips.
‘All the sweets have gone,’ she observed. ‘Nanny thinks it’s time you went beddy-byes.’
As she tucked him in tightly, she spotted his right hand stealthily inching down beneath the coverlet to his erection. Inching down, she knew, to relieve his pent up, unexploded orgasm.
‘No,’ she chided, slapping his wrist. ‘Nanny thinks that is a naughty habit so Nanny is going to make sure that her little man doesn’t play with himself during the night.’
The thunder had rolled away to the north. Norfolk was getting it by now, she mused. Through the rain-speckled window pane, she saw that the sky was washed out: the pale-blue air had been rinsed by the sudden summer storm. It was late afternoon. Teatime in London, though nobody she knew ever actually had tea there. In the House of Commons, sober-suited statesmen would be whispering their strategies over buttered scones, concealing their true intentions as they spread red jam with silver knives, smiling as they lied candidly over large wedges of date and walnut cake. Here – she smiled to herself as she bound both of his wrists to the bedposts with her nylon stockings – their future leader was wriggling in his sweet restraint.
‘Not too tight?’ she inquired. ‘Nanny wants you to be comfortable.’
He strained at the bondage.
‘Well?’ she insisted.
‘Mm,’ he grunted, attempting – but failing – to kiss Mandy’s naked breasts as they brushed his face momentarily.
Her task of binding his wrists to the bedposts completed, she took the pillow from beneath his head and, stepping down off the bed, wedged it between her parted thighs.
‘Nanny is going soon. It is time for you to get some rest. But Nanny will return.’
He groaned aloud as she dragged her fingernail up along the length of his erection. He was swimming in ecstasy – an ecstasy she sternly denied him to spill.
‘When Nanny returns, she will inspect you. If you have wet the glass, you will be whipped.’
‘The glass?’ he echoed, uncomprehendingly.
‘The glass,’ she repeated firmly, taking an empty tumbler from the bedside cabinet and inverting it over his erection.
‘Silence. I will give you your pillow back when I have made good use of it.’
With one hand grasping the corner of the pillow that jutted out below her belly and the other hand grasping the corner emerging beneath her buttocks’ swell, Mandy dragged the plump white softness back and forth between her thighs. It took less than two and a half minutes of concentrated fury to bring herself off – she came, sweetly and loudly and was quite wet.
‘There,’ she gasped softly, approaching the bed.
His blue eyes gazed up, hypnotised.
She positioned his pillow so that the wet patch greeted his lips. He swivelled his head, but the wet patch was broad enough to greet them again on the other side. He writhed.
Bending down, Mandy kissed his forehead tenderly. The tumbler danced on the twitching shaft.
‘Goodnight, my little man, but be careful how you dream. And don’t you dare dream about Nanny. No naughty dreams of Nanny getting dressed, or Nanny spanking you on the bare bottom.’
His erection jerked. The tumbler trembled.
‘Remember,’ she whispered darkly, stroking each of his stocking-bound wrists, ‘Nanny will return. And if the glass is wet?’
‘I will be whipped,’ he murmured in tones of dread delight.