NB. This story was substantially written with the help of fifuxg who should claim the credit.
A few weeks after the weekend of the Open day, Fiona was taking a long, lazy breakfast with the Saturday papers. The doorbell rang and she quickly gathered her dressing gown around her before opening the front door. The postman had her mail together with a special delivery which needed signing for. He handed over a small envelope which was marked 'Private and Personal'. The name and address were handwritten in a clear hand, probably with a fountain pen if she were any judge.
Fiona hardly ever received personal letters, only bills and tax demands. Nearly everyone uses email these days she thought, wondering who it could be from. The postmark only indicated the sorting office from which it came. Tim, her boyfriend, called out asking what it was all about, but for some reason she didn't want to share this. She called back to him, closing the front door and putting the letter in a safe place to read later. Whatever it intrigued her.
Later that morning, having showered and dressed and once Tim had left to watch rugby with one of his friends, she retrieved the letter from where she had secreted it in a bookcase. Why had she done that she wondered? Her private life was still her own, but she let Tim in on most things. What was it about this letter that had her so intrigued?
And then she noticed. Embossed on the envelope was the motto of Celwood School. It was very discreet, with no ink, merely an embossed motto in the laid paper envelope. Tim would certainly have been interested to see that, but why was it addressed to her and not to him? He had been the one who had attended that school and kept in touch with some of his school friends. She took the letter to her desk and for once opened it with a letter opener, withdrawing a single, handwritten page. She sat down to read it.
Dear Ms. Fiona Jones
Forgive my intrusion, but I wanted to write to you following your recent visit to Celwood. You may wonder how I have come to find your name and address. It proved to be quite tricky, but my secretary managed to trace you through the address we hold for your partner. This took some time and I then had to establish your name. When I met you, I was not formally introduced, you may recall.
During your visit I surprised you in my study and was able help explain a little about how we use corporal punishment in this establishment. I recall that you were quite interested and indeed I was able to give you a very preliminary introduction. I know that this triggered something in you and you may wish to learn more and perhaps experience more (in private and with absolute discretion). Should you wish to do so, I should like to invite you to visit again when we can discuss further and I can show you much more. Naturally one has to be very discreet these days.
If you are interested to take this further I suggest that you contact my secretary Mrs. Nicola Page who has my complete confidence in these matters and who can make all the necessary arrangements. She will be expecting your call and is best contacted in the evenings.
Yours sincerely
Mr. G. Davis.
Fiona read the letter and then re-read it, a broad smile breaking over her face. What on earth was he playing at? The man was old enough to be her father. He had taken great liberties when she visited on the Open Day, taking advantage of her natural inquisitiveness. Not only had he shown her his canes, but he had even caned her and then touched her up afterwards! And she had let him, she acknowledged. Now the man had the cheek to invite her down again. Discreetly. The discretion was very interesting. She was grateful for it.
Her first instinct had been to put the letter straight in the bin, but instead she tucked it away again. She would do that tomorrow. It had brought back some powerful memories though and she smiled as she recalled both those events in his study and afterwards at the hotel with Tim. Somehow Mr. Davis had triggered something in her that had heightened her arousal for quite some time. She had become quite a slut she thought, recalling Tim's reaction when she had taken the plunge in the hotel and shown him the stripes that Mr. Davis had inflicted on her. She remembered too, her early morning run the next day and how it had ended up with her ex-army lover Mike. And then making love to Tim only minutes later in their own room just the other side of the wall. Had all of that behaviour been triggered on that fateful afternoon? Well, in spite of that there was no way she was going back to Celwood she thought. Not with Mr. Davis in charge. He was old and a little fat, if somewhat grey and distinguished. She hadn't really taken to him, although she admitted to herself that the memory of the visit was still very powerful.
Over the weekend Fiona had kept herself to herself, even going out for a long walk on her own in the spring sunshine. She kept mulling things over. Even though she had already rejected the invitation in her own mind, she wondered what Mr. Davis had planned. And his secretary -apparently she was in on this too. She must know what was going on and possibly what had happened during the Open Day. That night she couldn't sleep. Although she and Tim had made love several times over the weekend she could not stop thinking about that weekend and how it had liberated her sexuality. She hadn't felt inhibited before, but without a doubt the experience had liberated her mind and her imagination.
By morning she had resolved that she had to call the secretary, if only to reject the invitation. Perhaps if she did she could put it out of her mind. Lay it to rest somehow. She needed to find some time for a private phone call.
It wasn't until the middle of the week that she had been able to get some privacy to make the call. She had poured a large glass of wine for courage and dialled the number Mr. Davis had given her.
'Hello -- is that Mrs. Page?' she asked as her call was answered.
'Yes...Nicola Page speaking. Who is this?'
'My name is Fiona Jones. I believe you may be expecting a call. Is this a convenient time to talk?'
'Yes. Yes of course. Please just wait a moment while I make myself comfortable and we can chat. Mr. Davis has told me a little, but I think it best if you don't mind if you tell me everything. Why you visited us on the Open Day? Why you happened to be in his study and exactly what happened there? And, of course, why you have picked up the phone to me? That must have taken quite a bit of courage.'
Fiona took a deep breath and described how she had come to be there. Her boyfriend Tim was an ex pupil at Celwood and had been telling her about Mr. Davis and the corporal punishment that was meted out from time to time. This had intrigued her. At her own school nothing like that had ever happened. Mrs. Page asked her if she had ever been spanked at school.
'Oh yes. Once or twice. But nothing very serious. That was what I wanted to find out more about. Tim is not really into it and I couldn't get him to spank me to find out. I had hoped this Open Day might act as a trigger. So when I got the chance to go back to Mr. Davis's study I seized the moment. I still don't know why. In fact I was just trying the chair out for size, bending over it, when he came in. I don't know how much he told you, but he was most charming. He showed me his canes. What took me by surprise was when he pushed me back over the chair and clearly intended to demonstrate them on my behind.'
'Did you struggle?' she asked.
'No. I didn't. I could not understand that afterwards. He gave me four strokes altogether and the last one was after he had taken off my knickers. I couldn't find them after so I presume he kept them.'
'And did it hurt Fiona?'
'Well, yes of course. I don't know how hard he caned me, but it hurt alright. And then somehow the pain eased and the situation took over. I found myself becoming aroused. I couldn't help it. Mr. Davis certainly must have noticed. When he had put the cane down he came and stroked my bottom and between my legs. I was soaking wet, leaning over the chair with everything on display. I thought he might fuck me there and then, but nothing else happened.'
'I see Fiona. Did you want something more to happen?'
'I was so confused and aroused I didn't know what was happening. I stayed there until he left the room. Then I began to worry about Tim. What would happen when he saw the stripes? Would I tell him or try to keep it a secret? How long would the marks last?'
'Well Fiona,' Nicola spoke slowly and deliberately. 'It sounds as if you enjoyed the experience. And clearly you were intrigued enough to respond to Mr. Davis's letter. You do realise that if you come down again then you will get more than four strokes? You clearly enjoyed the submissive role. You can expect much more of that if you are to gain from another visit. What I can say is that Mr. Davis is an expert with the cane. You will come to no lasting harm with us I can promise you. I have been working for Mr. Davis for several years now and also have experience. I am sure that if you are really interested then we can help you explore your interest.'
Fiona asked 'Does this happen often? I can't imagine that many women end up like I did'
'You might be surprised. We don't see new people every week, but occasionally former pupils will bring their wives and girlfriends just as Tim brought you. Normally it's because they are both interested. It's a surprise Tim is not interested himself but it doesn't matter. He need not know. I normally make all the arrangements and just leave Mr. Davis to his part. If it helps you reach a decision, I have caned girls myself while he taught me and I have also received the cane.'
Fiona interrupted 'Did you like that?'
