A First Class Prospect
From Uniform Ladies 17




















‘Self-discipline,
Miss Keating. That is the keynote to existence as I’m sure you’ll agree. It’s a long way a
theory that we form stress here. Our clients seek records from it. They are all
hand-picked families pointless to claim. And hand-picked gentleman.’
Mr
Naylor of Naylor Au Pair Agency. Jane, 18, a cozy, relaxed-searching blonde
sitting in his place of work in her ideal navy-blue suit had nodded in co-operative
agreement. The Naylor Agency paid very provocative charges, the ideal you would also obtain, and
Jane used to be very spirited to obtain taken on.
Mr
Naylor, a eminent searching gentleman with greying temples, had produced a
charming smile. ‘I shall accept as true with to construct you through your paces, Miss Keating. That
is my routine plan. I indubitably feel I owe it to my clients. We need to impact sure a girl
can obtain self-discipline. Nonetheless must you would also… smartly, you are indubitably a extraordinarily
aesthetic young girl.’
Jane
had blushed and acknowledged that yes, she might possibly perchance well obtain self-discipline though on the same
time questioning what might possibly perchance well very smartly be meant by placing her through her paces. Mr Naylor
had then suggested her where to pass and what to construct on. Tomorrow. Tomorrow as on the present time.
Standing
none too sure of herself now on this kitchen. Reasonably a itsy-bitsy kitchen of this
flat. Mr Naylor acknowledged it belonged to a first charge friend of his and it used to be a helpful
philosophize to plug through a couple of exams. What exams? Jane had taken off the coat she
had dilapidated to attain wait on here and used to be in precisely blouse and skirt and the white ankle
socks and murky heels that Mr Naylor had suggested her to construct on. A plaid skirt. Plus
now a chunk white apron that Mr Naylor had tied on her. They had been here a
quarter of an hour. He had made some espresso and engaged her basically
conversation. To position her at her ease no question. Now they had been on this miniature
kitchen. What now? Modified into she going to accept as true with to form some chores — cleaning or
something — as a demonstration?
‘Ever
had the cane, my dear?’
The
words coming out in Mr Naylor’s urbane, cultured remark so as that it took a couple of
instants for their that scheme… Jane’s subtle red mouth opening and shutting. The correct
blue eyes widening. Oh. Oh. Shaking her head.
‘Never,
Miss Keating? No, it is now not so general for the time being I do know. It frail to be basic extra
of a typical thing. Fathers caning their daughters; getting it at faculty; etc.
etc. Very general. And a few americans for the time being somewhat feel sorry about its passing. What form
you deem, my dear?’
What
did she judge? Without warning flush-confronted, Jane mumbled that she didn’t know. The
cane! Modified into he going to… form that?
‘What
I are looking for to form, Miss Keating, is give you a chunk touching up with the cane. It
is a take a look at that I always use with recent ladies. Is that everyone upright?’
The
cane! Jane produced a sickly grin. Modified into it a humorous story? Her mouth used to be
fat of saliva that wanted swallowing.
‘I
always form it,’ Mr Naylor repeated. He used to be evidently assuming she used to be wonderful
to the hypothesis. ‘Stand here and identify your hands. Shield the apparel drier.’
In a intention
Jane’s hands lifted up and did it. With out her indubitably telling them to. Took aid
of the wooden rails of the apparel drier that used to be tied up cessation to the ceiling.
Retaining it used to be phase of the caning routine, she might possibly perchance well sense that. This couldn’t
indubitably be taking place, he couldn’t indubitably cane her. Nonetheless on the same time Jane
knew it used to be taking place. Mr Naylor had some apparel pegs. He used to be lifting the
plaid skirt. Pegging the hem, entrance and wait on, high up on her blouse. Elevating
the skirt completely above her waist. Displaying the fat size of her bare
thighs, and her brief stripey knickers. She gave a whimpering sound.
Mr
Naylor’s face used to be cessation. His remark mild, soothing: It’s nothing to trouble
about, my dear. Nonetheless we accept as true with to form it, my clients wish to impress it’s been accomplished.’
Her
hand appealing on the wooden rungs which, stretching her hands, Jane might possibly perchance well appropriate
attain. The subtle remark again: ‘And I shall accept as true with to stir your knickers down now.
Nonetheless don’t be shy.’
He
used to be doing appropriate that. She stood unexcited, though trembling. It used to be taking place, as in
a dream. Mr Naylor sliding the skimpy knickers down. A piece phase of her thoughts
panicking, desirous to desire them, but she didn’t. The knickers came down, off
of her bottom. And pointless to claim the entrance too. And now… and now…
Mr
Naylor had the cane. In this form of dream Mr Naylor had the cane. His other
arm spherical her waist and he used to be bending down, face cessation to her bottom. The cane
snapping in opposition to the subtle underside of the bare cheeks. No longer indubitably laborious attributable to
Mr Naylor used to be so cessation. Nonetheless enough to give an actual indubitably feel to it. So that she knew
it wasn’t indubitably a dream. It used to be precise.
Jane
hung onto the firm actuality of the wooden rungs. Mr Naylor used to be standing up.
Making ‘Hmmm’ sounds. Standing wait on. She caught her breath. It used to be to give
himself room, she realised…
CRACK!
Aaaaiieeekkk!Oh Jesus Christ! An actual laborious one. Sizzling in at some level of the ripeness
of her bare bottom. No dream feeling now. ‘No…’ she yelped. ‘No, you can’t…’
CRACK!…
Aaaiiioowwwhhh!
It
had merely attain in comparable to before. Stinging her esteem a swarm of bees.
Jane’s hands with out note let lope of the rungs and slid the total model down to preserve the unnerved
hemispheres. Making miniature mewling sounds. Mr Naylor came cessation, his hands
taking her shoulders.
‘Sting,
does it, my dear?’ An unintelligible sound in reply, but no question one of
decided agreement. One in all Mr Naylor’s hands came the total model down to where Jane’s hands
had been, rubbing at her stinging rear. ‘It’s meant to, pointless to claim. On the different hand it doesn’t
closing long, the sting.’ His hand endeavouring to serve in what she used to be doing:
to obtain a share of bare bottom and no question rub away that inviting trouble. A squeal
from Jane… as the hand if truth be told slid in beneath these hot cheeks.
That
persuasive remark, the proprietor of the (used to be it unintended?) frightful hand: ‘Fingers
up again then, Miss. We need to accept as true with a couple of extra. Near on. You’re now not doing badly
to this level.’
Six.
Six of them altogether. These stinging cuts at some level of Jane’s ripe rump. She
thought she wouldn’t be in a station to take a seat down down afterwards. Nonetheless she used to be sitting down,
out within the lounge again. More espresso. Sipping it, her heart unexcited thudding esteem
a educate. Her bottom… within the plaid skirt. The pegs had been gone now and the skirt
used to be down, and likewise Mr Naylor had taken the apron. And that wasn’t all. Her
knickers: he had tugged them on down and off after that closing stinger. Whereas
Jane, within the explain, used to be barely acutely aware it used to be taking place.
She
knew now though. Even supposing her bottom unexcited damage there used to be that particular
feeling of getting no knickers on. That particular feeling even as you are by myself with
a particular person at least. Mr Naylor. Charming Mr Naylor who had frail his cane on her and
whose hand had already gone… in there
‘All
upright, my dear? That you might possibly well possibly also have that, can you?’
What
did that imply? Can also you… obtain the cane from the agency clients? Flushing, she
acknowledged, ‘I don’t… I imply I received’t… accept as true with to…?’
Mr
Naylor smiled that urbane smile. ‘The clients? Well pointless to claim, some of them…
Certain some of them will predict to… some gentlemen particularly. Nothing defective
pointless to claim. Nothing a girl can’t have. Oh no, I wouldn’t allow that. Nonetheless she has
to be ready… It’s terribly basic phase of the dilapidated flavour that my agency
has. We’re smartly-known for it. In a extraordinarily discreet manner, naturally. So there is not this form of thing as a
wish to bother on that win. Oh yes, extraordinarily discreet.’
He
smiled again. ‘You did have it completely, young girl. Very smartly certainly for a
first lope at it. Certain.’
‘I
can’t.’ The words popping sharply out from the subtle red mouth. Even though
unnerved at what he had acknowledged Jane felt a miniature bit surprised that she had acknowledged it, that she had been daring
enough. On myth of Mr Naylor with out reference to that seductively subtle remark had a daring
charisma of authority about him. Which used to be why she had stood there and let him have
her knickers down. And then cane her.
‘I
can’t,’ she breathed again, shaking her head this time for emphasis. ‘No. No longer
that cane…’
Mr
Naylor stumbled on, to take a seat down at her aspect. ‘You’re fooling around, my dear. Undoubtedly
you would also. It’s nothing, now not indubitably. You’ve appropriate had it and it wasn’t a problem,
used to be it? It’s merely something that some gentlemen esteem to form. And I’m very
spirited to accept as true with you with us. You’re a extraordinarily relaxed, charming, smartly introduced up young
girl. Certain.’
As
he acknowledged these words Mr Naylor’s hand used to be feeling Jane’s knockers. Squeezing and
mounding them through the skinny blouse. It form of took her breath away and
there used to be that same panicky plug, as there had been when he slid her knickers
down. The plug to push that hand away. Nonetheless she didn’t. In a intention couldn’t. Sizzling-confronted, Jane bit her lip.
‘I
know what you wish,’ Mr Naylor acknowledged. ‘Something to select you. Near on.’ He used to be
standing, and pulling her to her feet.
He
led her through into yet every other room. It used to be a mattress room, with a double mattress. Mr
Naylor held her cessation. His mouth in opposition to her ear acknowledged softly, ‘A piece lie
down, my dear. Mmmm?’ His hands went the total model down to the waistband of the plaid skirt.
Unfastening. Jane with that dream-esteem feeling again. Because the skirt slid down.
Sitting on the aspect of the mattress where Mr Naylor had pulled the covers wait on. He
used to be bending to stir off her sneakers.
Lying
within the mattress. Skirt and knickers and sneakers off. It had to be some form of dream.
Her heart pounding as she watched Mr Naylor undoing his hold sneakers. Then
standing. His hands at his belt. All of this had to be a dream — but she had
by no scheme dreamt the rest esteem it before.
Mr
Naylor on high of her.
It
had to be a dream attributable to she didn’t form this form of thing. Linked to that
caning couldn’t indubitably happen to a girl. Can also it?
Mr Naylor’s urbane remark as subtle as ever: ‘My clients… my dear… they
will judge… you’re somewhat… firstclass…’