backfire on me severely. The love object could turn out to be a by-the-book philistine who might put me on report instead of receiving the proffered gift with untold gladness. Then he suggested I come out to Random Point for the weekend and he’d set me up with a good looking, local English teacher who was in the scene and could point out the error of my ways and maybe make me see reason. I decided to wait until I got to RP to confess that I’d already made my first move. Anyway, the schoolteacher sounds exciting!
I’m writing this in the train. Just like Oscar Wilde!!!
November 9th
Yesterday will go down in my short history as one of the best.
I’m writing this in the window seat of the Ball and Feather dining room where I am enjoying an enormous buttermilk biscuit, drenched in butter along with strong English tea. The snow is falling steadily outside and is about a foot deep at this point. Hugo’s gone to chat with the innkeeper, so I can make this entry on my laptop.
Hugo met me at the station and took me directly to his shop, where Laura had been minding the counter. She made us all some coffee and produced some sandwiches for me that were lovely.
“So,” Hugo said, “you want to meet Mr. Lawrence, the English teacher?”
“I do want to meet him!” I replied, “and have dressed accordingly.” I had on my new black thigh high boots, textured tights, a short, grey pleated skirt and a black polo sweater.
“Well then, you can take my car and drive up the cove road to meet him. Here’s the directions and the address,” Hugo said, handing me the keys to his old Jag and a printout of the directions.
“David is very handsome,” Laura told me when Hugo turned away to call my date and warn him of my imminent arrival.
“It’s true,” said Hugo, who had heard. “He’s got lovesick teenagers throwing themselves at him every other day.”
David Lawrence was waiting for me in the doorway of the little dollhouse he and his wife Hope live in, called Cobweb Cottage. They were right. The guy is A+ all the way, from face to form to dress to voice. I’ll always think of him as “The Voice” because I’ve never heard one as smooth, mellifluous and well modulated.
He showed me around the cozy interior in a minute. It was not large but it was wonderful. Apparently the site has a long history of being home to scene couples, passing from one to another as a precious jewel set above the jagged coast.
“Let me tell you something, honey, I’ve been harassed and driven crazy by more youngsters than I can remember. It’s not a pleasant sensation.”
“Oh, bosh,” I said. “Surely it’s an ego stroke?”
“Not one that I need or want!” he insisted. I could see what he meant. He was married to a former video model in the scene, a breathtakingly beautiful blonde in her mid-twenties. She runs the coffee counter at Margaret Alexander’s bookshop and she’s magnetically attractive in body and spirit. David Lawrence doesn’t need his students coming on to him to feel sexy.
“Being in the scene,” I said, “haven’t you felt tempted to spank them?”
“I have spanked two of them,” he admitted ruefully.
“You let yourself go that far?”
“Somehow they found out I was in the scene. And they were too. But I merely spanked them. Well, pretty much so.”
“I have no idea if the professor I like is in the scene.”
“He probably isn’t.”
“He called me naughty when I kissed him the other day. And he gave me a parting swat.”
“H’m.”
“I know. It’s intriguing.”
“I don’t think you should pursue this, Amanda.”
“No?”
“I think it’s putting your professor in an awful spot. He could get fired for playing around with his student.”
I shrugged and protested, “I can’t take back the kiss now.”
“But you can resolve not to put the poor guy in this type of position.”
“I could.”
“I may help deepen that resolve.”
I didn’t let him grab me right away. I made him chase me around the little lodge-like sitting room. He’s a smoker and he got irritated with this pretty quickly. Smokers in their 30’s get winded fast. Finally he snagged me and put me over his knee. The cute part is that he spanked me through my tights. He never even tried to pull them down. Though they were sheer enough for the pink of my skin tone to show through the intricate charcoal knit. (I had omitted panties). I checked it out later in a mirror. It was a nice, good, long, hard spanking, with a slow, steady buildup and I blush to confess, an orgasmic climax. This occurred when he grabbed my wrist to prevent me putting my hand back to cover my belabored bottom and pinned it to my waist. Oh, that gesture. It slays me. Then he just kept going on and on, harder and harder and faster and faster. And I mini-came again.
He tried to make me stand in the corner but I didn’t want to. He was adamant. I stamped my foot at him. He took off his belt.
Again, I made him chase me. After all that hard spanking, he must have been tired! I led him around and around the cottage and out the back door. He caught me on the back porch and bent me over the wooden railing. It was cold out there but after a few seconds I ceased to notice that. He was still clutching his belt and I soon felt it!
“I can’t believe you would defy me after I went to all the time and trouble to counsel you today,” he remarked, as though shocked.
I took about twelve hard licks with the strap before giving in. I’m building up an interesting tolerance but even it has its limits. I allowed myself to be marched indoors again and stood in the corner.
David Lawrence regarded me over folded arms, leaning back against a bookcase.
“Well?” he asked, “Are you going to cut your teacher a break and leave him the hell alone?”
I shrugged and thought to myself, “He did give me a swat. That demonstrates the right instinct.”
“Save yourself the humiliation of being rejected and control your lust for your teacher!” was my new disciplinarian’s final exhortation to me before taking me out of the corner and giving my hair a pat and my cheek an affectionate caress. I put my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his lightly. His arms went around my waist.
“Now don’t start tempting me, young lady,” he warned. “I’m married!”
“Yes, I notice you didn’t even lower my tights. Admirable control, Mr. Lawrence.”
“That was out of respect of the fact that you’re Hugo’s daughter.”
“But, he sent me to you for a thrill.”
“You’re awfully confident for a baby,”
