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The Stories of Yvonne Sinclair

Alice And Anna
On The Beach
The Bisley Boy
Silk Stockings On A Ladder
A Merry Ferry Christmas
Stella and Fanny

The Story Of T

Arrival At The Institute

The Dominafuhrer

The New Recruit

The Sacred Feminine

The Sacred Feminine

Julia

An Introduction

VO Stories

Jenny
Miss Malcahy's Detention
Nine and a Half Hours

The Weight Loss
Programme

I Sign A Contract

The Convict

The Convict/My Prison Folder

Stories

65
A Caning By Miss Spiteful
A Visit To Greenwich
At My Lady's Pleasure
Ball Shackle Story
Charles
George
I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop
Judicial Bastinado
Kevin's Poem
Kim
Long Weekend
Long Weekend Conclusion
My Visit
Penitence
Plimsolls
Robin's Electrical Torture
Shoeshine Boy
Slave To The Cane
The Basement
The Colony
The Escape Artist
The Huntress Caning
The Language School
The Worm's View
Webb Encounters
Z

The Bossy Bank Women

A Judicial Punishment

The Valkyrie

Episode 1

Norseland

The Vision
The Agreement
First Blood

EXIT

EXIT THIS SITE

I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop On The Kings' Road

I met Claire in a coffee shop on the Kings Road.  She was paying for her coffee when I accidentally jogged her arm causing her to drop her change.   I quickly bent down and to pick up the fallen coins and as I returned them to her I stood up too fast and jogged her again.  This time her coffee was spilt on her blouse.  She looked at me crossly taking the coins which she put in her purse.  I carried her coffee to a table in the corner and she followed and sat down wiping her blouse with a napkin.  I asked her if I could join her and she said that I could.   I could not help admiring her long slim legs which were crossed in front of her. 

I told her how sorry I was to have caused her coffee to spill.  She looked at me sternly and finished her coffee quickly.  “Text me,” she said as she stood, giving me her number.   She looked me in the eye and I was captivated by her beautiful face with her long eye lashes.  As she was about to leave I admired her full figure and she turned: “You really are too careless,” she said.  “Yes,” I replied looking at her with admiration.  She was lovely. 

Next morning, before I went to work, I sent a text: “Good to meet u.  Hope work went OK.  Can we meet again?  Careless!.”   

At lunchtime my phone rang.  It was a text from Claire.   “Meet me in the coffee shop at 4.00pm.”  I was really excited that I was going to see her so soon.  I text her back saying that I looked forward to it.

At 4.00pm I was waiting for her.  She entered the shop and walked straight towards me and sat down.  She was even more stunning then I had remembered.  She was beautiful, and what a figure!  She sat down and I went and got her a coffee. 

When we were both seated she opened the conversation.  “I do not tolerate carelessness,” she said.  I looked at her puzzled.  “You need to be aware that I am a strict disciplinarian,” she said in a serious manner.  I was confused and it obviously showed.  “You see,” she said, “we really can not allow you to go around bumping into people. And so you need to be punished.”  I felt a bit silly about this and looked at her.  “Well,” she said.  “OK,” I replied nonchalantly.

She then gave me some instructions and left.  That evening at 6.00pm I rang the doorbell of her flat holding the bottle of wine I had been told to bring.  I was full of anticipation and excitement at the prospect of seeing her again and was curious about what she had said about punishment.  The front door was opened electronically and I went up the stairs to Flat 10.  I knocked on the door, it opened and I walked inside.  She came out from behind the door as she closed it.  She was dressed in a smart but tight black skirt which stopped just above the knee.  Her tight white blouse was straining at the third button showing plenty of cleavage.   She had on four inch black high heel shoes.    She was stunning.  “Come through,” she told me, leading the way into the sitting room.   I immediately saw the two school canes and a paddle on the low table in the centre of the room.  My heart skipped a beat.  She sat down on the sofa.  “Get me a glass of wine,” she said pointing towards an open door.  I went into the kitchen and used the corkscrew to open the bottle.  There was one glass on the side.  I filled this with the wine and took it to her.   I stood in front of her admiring her.  The top of her breasts were clearly visible and I noticed her nipples straining against the white cloth of her blouse.  Surely she was not wearing a bra!  My heart thundered.   I could feel the start of an erection. 

“What are you here for?” she asked.   “Punishment?” I replied in the form of a question. 

“Take your trousers off,” she told me.  In these circumstances you do not argue so I took them off and placed them on a chair.  “Come here,” I was told.  Once again I stood in front of her.  My cock was at her eye level and it started to rise.  I am sure that she could see it under my tight pants.  She looked up at me as her hand touched my cock through the material of my pants.  I was rampant.  “Nice,” she said looking me in the eye.  “Give me the light cane then slip off your pants and bend over the back of the chair,” she said.  I picked up the smaller cane and gave it to her.   I dropped my pants and bent over the chair as instructed.   I waited.  I heard her use the telephone.  She was speaking to a girl called Ann.  I remained still.  “I have a small matter to deal with first but then perhaps you could come around,” I heard her say.  “OK, see you at 7.00, it should be fun” she said and hung up.   I waited keeping still.  It was quiet in the flat.  I heard her get up and come towards me and heard the swish of the cane through the air.  I felt the cane resting on my bottom and could not resist raising my bottom up to meet it.   “Twelve strokes for causing me to drop my change” she announced.  “Yes, mistress,” I replied.   One, the first stroke came crashing down on me.  It cut deep and hurt tremendously but I managed to hold my station.  The second stroke cut into me and then the third.  There was a pause.  “Count the strokes,” she said resting the cane on my buttocks once again.  “Four,” I yelled as the next stroke hit me.  “Five”…..”six” I yelled out.  Once again she paused and this time she caressed my buttocks.  The feeling was tremendous.   “This is just the junior cane,” she said silkily.  It was very intimate and sensual. 

After a few minutes she whispered gently in my ear:  “Ready for the next six.”   “Yes, Miss,” I replied.  She stood and gave me a couple of taps changing her position.   The next six strokes were given in slow time.  Each one cut deeply but I managed to stay bending down.   I was on fire but I reckon that I had taken my punishment well.  “Well done,” she said.  I started to get up.  “Wait.”  So I paused while she inspected her handiwork.  “I can see ten clear cuts which is excellent,” she said.  “Now put on your pants and go and poor me out another glass of wine.” I was instructed.  I did as I was told relieved that the punishment was over.   Claire was on the sofa when I returned from the kitchen, her breath was short and her breasts were heaving.  I gave her the wine and stood in front of her.  She looked lovely. 

“You did well,” she said.   “But we still have the matter of the spilt coffee on my blouse to deal with, don’t we?” she asked.  I was surprised as I thought that the punishment was over but I heard myself reply, “Yes miss.”   I would do anything for this woman, I thought.   

“Now listen carefully,” she said.   “In ten minutes my friend Ann will be arriving.  She is a very strict disciplinarian.  She will want to inspect the marks from the caning which I have just given you.  Should she feel that I have not done a good enough job you will have to have some strokes repeated.  She will also deal with the spilt coffee.  Understand?”  My cock was stirring again.   “Oh, no,” I pleaded.  She remained silent.  “After all,” she said, “you haven’t received the senior cane yet.”   At this my erection went hard.  She noticed it.  She touched my cock again through the material.   “You want to be caned don’t you?” she asked gently.   I groaned.  “Don’t you?” she asked.   “Yes, Miss,” I replied.

“Good.  Go next door, take off all your clothes,” she told me.  I went to the next door room.   Soft lights were on but the walls were black and the overall effect was dark.  There was a whipping bench in the centre of the room and various mirrors around the walls.   I shuddered as I looked around but remembering her instructions so I took off my pants and shirt.   Claire came into the room with a cane in her hand. “This is the senior cane,” she announced.   I winced as a saw her flexing a very severe looking and long cane.  My erection was out of control and was impossible to conceal from her.  She gently tapped it with the cane.  It was agony and ecstasy at once.  The front door bell rang.  “Get in position on the bench,” she said as she left the room.  I did as I had been told.  It was a great feeling.  I was kneeling on leg supports with my upper body bent over the bench lying with my head down and buttocks raised.   The cool leather beneath me felt wonderful.  I lay there while hearing murmurs from the other room and about twenty minutes passed.  Eventually I heard someone come into the room. 

A light came on and I looked in the mirror and saw another lady beside me.  She touched my buttocks.  “I can see 6 stripes here so six will have to be repeated with the senior cane.”  I kept quite.  Claire came into my view and smiled at me.   She busied herself fastening the leather straps on my ankles, wrists and over my back.    The sensation of being restrained was exciting and my cock stirred again.  I moved to get into a better position.  At last I was secured to their satisfaction.

“Right,” I heard Ann’s voice as she swished the cane through the air.  “The senior cane. OK?” she asked.  “Yes, Miss,” I replied.  “You will receive six strokes as indicated,” she paused.  “Yes, Miss,” I said. 

Well I took the six strokes without causing too much mayhem but it was painful and I did cry out a couple of times with the pain.  The senior cane was very severe and bit deeply.  I was relieved when it was finished but little did I know then that I was not to be let off so lightly. 

“Well done,” Ann said as she inspected the marks and touched the results of her work.  “You now have a choice,” she continued.  “For the second offence of spilling coffee on Caire’s blouse you will receive either 24 strokes from the junior cane or 6 more strokes from the senior cane.   But there is a condition,” she continued.  “Yes, Miss?” I asked.  

“The condition is that you will remain absolutely silent while I deliver each stroke,” she explained.  “I understand, Miss,” I replied.  

“For each stroke that you make an unnecessary noise Claire will turn up a card and you will get the number of extra strokes indicated by the card.”   “Think about it while we have another glass of wine,” she continued as she and Claire left the room. 

I was left alone.   I thought about it.  24 strokes with the junior cane was a lot but I had taken 12 already and had no made too much noise.   I was not sure that I could manage 6 strokes of the senior cane without making a sound.  But then 6 strokes was not very many.  Surely I could manage to keep quite over 6 strokes?  It was a gamble.  Was it worth taking the gamble?  These thoughts continued going around in my mind.  Once again I started to get hard.  I found the sensation most odd but pleasurable. 

“Well?” Ann asked as she came back in the room with Claire.  Claire showed me the pack of cards.  I shuddered.  “Which one,” asked Ann showing me the two canes. 

“The senior cane please Miss,” I heard myself say unexpectedly.  “A good choice.  Prepare for 6 strokes,” she said and wrote the figure 6 on a board beside the bench.    She threw down the junior cane swished the senior one cane through the air a couple of times and rested it on my bottom while getting into the best position to deliver the first stroke.   She paused and then I felt the cane rise and with a shard crack it came down on my sore bottom.  I yelped.  Ann came in front of me and without saying a word turned up the top card in the pack.  It was the seven of clubs.   Ann crossed out 6 on the board and wrote 5 + 7.  I nearly feinted.   Without saying a word she got ready for stroke two.  I had learnt my lesson and so kept silent as this stroke was delivered.  I managed to take the next three as well without a sound.   I was pleased with myself.   The sixth stroke was a vicious one.  “Christ,” I exclaimed in agony.   Ann once again turned a card in front of me without saying a word.  It was the jack of spades.  Claire went to the board.  7 + 10 she wrote.  They said nothing.  The cane rested on my buttocks.  I despaired but resolved to keep quiet. 

Well I took the 17 strokes.  There were two more cards, the three of hearts and six of clubs.  So in the end I had taken 32 strokes from Ann with the senior cane.  As they unstrapped me I felt a sense of pride.   It had been a severe beating but I had enjoyed the experience.   

A week went passed which gave me plenty of time to think about it.  On the ninth day after my visit I received a text:  “Meet me for coffee.” It said.  I shuddered. 


End


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