On Course at Cornfield

 

Tall, distinguished, good looking, hair greying just a touch at the temples, Richard Edwards looked every inch the successful businessman. His suit was well cut and an expensive shirt and tie completed the overall impression of elegance and wealth.

And why not? Business Dynamics Ltd, was going from strength to strength and the acquisition of Cornfield School only added to the prestige of attending one of the residential courses offered to the business world. It seemed, even in this financial climate, that firms were prepared to pay to educate their up and coming young executives, if only to give them an edge on their competitors, and in return Richard was only too pleased to take the money and supply a fortnight of unashamed luxury. The young executives lived in style, attending a rigorous course in business studies. An iron fist in a velvet glove. The studies were hard, the discussions often heated but held in such elegant surroundings it could only help create the right impression on impressionable minds. Add first class meals, and the formula was complete. The courses were booked solidly until the end of the year.

All this, and Emmy too, thought Richard, smoothing the dust-free surface of his desk. Emmy was as much a find as the school, indeed, as the whole concept of Business Dynamics had been in the first place.

He sat down in a large leather chair and selected a fine cigar from the box. With any luck Emmy might drop by to discuss the imminent arrival of the next twenty trainees and to share in a little extra-curricular activity or, as he preferred to call it, discipline. Blowing a cloud of smoke into the air, Richard opened the centre drawer of his desk and ran his finger along the pliable rattan cane. It reposed on a bed of white blotting paper, which cushioned its rest between periods of duty: inflicting all that pain, giving all that pleasure.

Business Dynamics had moved from a small house in the village up to Cornfield School when the number of trainees proved too much for the place. Once an expensive boarding school, but slowly bankrupted by the loss of parents willing to pay exorbitant fees, Cornfield School had come onto the market at just the right time.

A number of people had applied for the various positions and Richard had interviewed them all himself. Mrs Williamson had stood out as an exceptional housekeeper cum-trained nurse, able to supervise the overall running of the school. The chef had been enticed from the five-star hotel in the village by an offer he could not refuse - a good salary and a self contained rent-free flat. The gardener had come willingly from the ranks of the local unemployed, and finally he had chosen Emmy and Penny, general maids for want of a better description.

At first he had had difficulty in telling them apart. They were both buxom country girls, well endowed in all the right places, with round faces, deep blue eyes and a mop of dark hair. But there was a difference, a considerable difference, as he was to find out later to his amusement and happiness.

It had been so casual at first he hadn't quite realised what was happening. Emmy had been busy dusting the study which had once been the headmaster's office, when she asked casually: 'Did old Mr Harpener leave his cane behind, Mr Edwards?'

'Did he what?' Richard had been Jolted out of his contemplation of the accounts to take in her question.

'Did the old headmaster leave his cane behind?' Emmy repeated patiently.

Richard thought furiously. Was she? Wasn't she? Was it a casual question? It couldn't be-no one asked that kind of casual question these days!

'As a matter of fact - er...'

'Emmy, sir!' A half smile and a deep blush.

'Thank you, Emmy. As a matter of fact, he did. Any reason why?'

'Well now,' she said as she leaned over the bookcase to dust the framed diplomas on the wall. Richard took in the generous backside straining at the seams of her uniform while waiting patiently for what he hoped would be the answer he desired. 'There are them as might like it, if you get my meaning, sir.'

'Would you be one of them, Emmy?' he said, smiling as the blush grew deeper. 'Whatever you say won't go any further than this room; I can assure you of that.'

'And I believe you, sir, that I do. Yes I would be one of them.'

'Well, perhaps later.'

Richard had turned back to his papas to give Emmy a chance to recover from her blushes. Nothing more was said on the oh so delicate subject and finally she left the room.

When she had gone, Richard sat up, tapping his fingers on the blotter and whistling softly to himself. There had been a few, far too few, ladies who hadn't minded odd slap or two, but only one who had actually gone across his knees for a bare-bottomed spanking at the mere suggestion of the word; but that had been a long time ago and he had despaired of ever finding anyone again willing to submit to a tanning of any kind. It had crossed his mind that by occupying Cornfield School he would be taking on the role of headmaster but he couldn't exactly order willowy young ladies with delectable rear-ends to wait outside his office for their just desserts. Nor could he ask the lecturers to send people to him for discipline either although, from comments he had heard from time to time, there were no doubt occasions when they wished they could do just that!

 

***

 

He had to wait a full three days before Emmy shyly knocked at his door and slid into the room, her eyes downcast, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

'What is it, Emmy?' He hoped this would be the first of many interesting visits, if he played his cards right.

'I called to see you, sir, about what we was talking about the other day.'

'Oh, you mean Mr Harpener's cane.'

She nodded, staring at the thick pile carpet.

'Well, Emmy, I've got the cane right here in the desk but I've a confession to make - I've never caned anyone in my life.'

'Haven't you, sir?' She looked up, eyes flashing with curiosity. 'But you are interested, aren't you, sir? I didn't pick the wrong one, did I?'

'No, Emmy, you didn't pick the wrong one, as you put it. I'm very interested indeed, but until now I've not owned a cane and up to now I've not had the opportunity to do it. There have been a few ladies who didn't mind a slap or two, but that's all, and before you ask, no, there isn't a Mrs Edwards, so if you're agreeable you'll be the first. But I warn you, I might not be as accurate as you'd like.'

'But you'll learn, sir, you'll learn, I'm sure of that.'

To Richard's surprise she pulled down her white cotton knickers and leaned over his desk, waiting. He stared in astonishment at the expanse of white flesh, and then opened the desk drawer and took out the cane. He flexed the cane a few times, feeling its strength and flexibility, and then went to stand at one side of Emmy, who was so very still. He had no idea of what she was feeling, embarrassment, anticipation, apprehension, genuine fear knowing he was a novice? Whatever it was, he could not out of all kindness keep her waiting.

Richard brought the cane down across her very wide cheeks, marvelling at the instant red line which sprang up, noticing with pure pleasure how the skin rebounded again. The lines weren't straight, far from it, so he tried again, aiming carefully. This time he created a perfectly straight line, and a movement from Emmy, a sort of shiver. Pleasure? He hoped so, for it was giving him a lot of pleasure. With a sigh of pure happiness he carried on.