It would be stretching the truth to call it an Antiques shop, there was precious little in the way of genuine antiques on offer. The standard of the stock was perhaps closer to that of a junk shop.
Nonetheless, he occasionally did have some interesting items and as usual, he had taken great care to place them seductively in the limited window space available to him.
She stopped at his window and, before looking at the stock, she first used the window as a mirror in order to check that the wind and rain had not disheveled her normally impeccable appearance too much. Lucy was tall, slim but still very curvy, and had the benefit of a face that most men would fantasise about. Deep blue eyes, gorgeous soft skin stretched seductively over her lovely cheekbones, copious deep black hair that flowed way down beyond her shoulders, falling free but, strangely, well behaved and usually quite tidy.
Satisfied with the looks she checked her legs to make sure that her stockings, which she always wore in preference to tights, were straight and wrinkle free. No need to tighten the suspenders, no hold ups for her, the real thing or nothing is what she offered.
Everything checked out OK so she looked down onto the window space in order to check what the strange, but charismatic and attractive, shop keeper had on offer today. Her eyes quickly passed over the usual books, amateur paintings and general house clearance rubbish and then she noticed something that had not been there yesterday.
In a neatly folded pile on a wooden stool in the corner of the window was a teachers black cap and gown, various books and stationery items plus, and this is what really caught her eye, an old fashioned teachers cane with a curved handle. As soon as she saw that, a little shiver went down her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She was not really surprised that she found such a thing exciting, she had always been fascinated by the thought of one person inflicting limited pain on another for the purpose of punishment or, in her particular case, just for pleasure.
Some of her previous men friends had rather enjoyed the role-play scenario that she often asked them to engage in where she was the strict school mistress and they were the naughty boys. At some point they would, of course, commit some act of naughtiness which would demand punishment and that’s what they got. Over her knee for a spanking usually or, occasionally several strokes with a ruler or, less often, a hard flat backed hairbrush.
With one of her ex-partners she had moved the game on a little further and purchased a small whip. Although she was not particularly adept at using it the result was quite satisfactory. He would scream when struck with it and, before long, would beg her to stop.
One thing that was definitely missing from that particular role play however was the traditional schoolteacher’s weapon of choice, the rattan cane with the curved handle – just like the one in the shop window in front of her.
Her mind was made up, she had to go in and buy it, she simply could not resist.
Once inside she tried to appear as if she were browsing casually, not too interested in any one item. The price had a strange habit of increasing steeply if one showed too much interest. In truth, she would have happily paid whatever the shopkeeper asked for the cane, but she didn’t want to be taken for a mug so she looked at several other items first before moving towards the window and looking over the shelf that formed the rear of the display.
"Can I show you anything?", came a voice from the back of the shop, "anything from the window perhaps?" "No, it’s OK" she said, "I was just looking at the teachers gown, it would be ideal for a fancy dress party I have been invited to."
"Would you like to try it on?", said the voice, its owner getting up and walking over towards her. "Yes, yes I would," said Lucy in a half-interested voice, "no harm in trying it on is there?"
"None whatsoever madam," said the voice, its owner now looking her in the eye and reaching over the ledge into the display area. "Would you like the cap also," he hesitated, "and the cane?"
"Absolutely," she said, "we musn’t cut corners must we?"
The shop owner guided her towards an area surrounded by a Victorian decorated screen, "perhaps you might like to make use of this," he pointed to the screen.
"No need", she said, and removed her coat, laying it over the back of a nearby chair. He passed her the gown which she slipped on, having worn one before at her University graduation she was familiar with the technique required to put on such a garment. He then passed her the mortar board which, although a little on the large side, perched attractively on her head. Finally he handed her the cane which she took in her right hand, gripping it tightly, feeling a rush of excitement and arousal throughout her body.
"I wish I was going to the same party that you are taking this to," he pointed to the cane, "you certainly look as though you know how to use it." "A very successful combination if ever there was one."
"Actually, I’ve never used one," said Lucy, "whips, rulers, wooden hairbrushes etc, I’ve used them all but never one of these." "I’m looking forward to trying it out."
"Nothing delivers the message quite like a cane," enthused the shop owner, "the combination of the sound as it swishes through the air and the excrutiating pain when it hits the target, accompanied by a satisfying thwack." "You sound as if you speak from personal experience," Lucy said, looking more closely at the man standing close to her, much closer than you would normally expect a shop assistant to stand.
"Would you like to try?" he asked, his tone betraying the knowledge that he knew that she would. "What do you mean?" she asked. "A simple arrangement," replied the shopkeeper, "you deliver six strokes of that cane across my backside and you can take it all away for free."
She thought, momentarily, about putting on an act and pretending to be angry at the very suggestion of such a thing but, in truth, she could hardly wait to do exactly what he suggested.
"You’ve got a nerve," she said. "Go on, you know you want to," the shopkeeper replied, "where would you like me?" "The stool that these items were displayed on is the one that its previous owner used to have the victims bend over when they were to be flogged." He smiled at her and added, "I should know, I was at the receiving end of it often enough." "Perhaps you would like me to bend over that."
Did it belong to your old teacher? she asked, "what was his name?" she was curious as to the history of the items that she was about to acquire.
"It belonged to my governess, my nanny if you like, her name was Sadista, Sister Sadista to give her the full title"
"I think I'll deal with you over there," she said after quickly scanning the room and spotting a battered but strangely beautiful old chaise longue, “across that”. He walked over to the chaise and bent over the armrest at the end. “trousers down, if you please," she barked it as an order. He complied, his bare arse prone.
She moved into position, practising her swing, creating that delicious swishing sound that she found so exciting.
Raising her arm as high as she could take it, Lucy prepared herself for the act she was about to perform. The excitement almost overwhelmed her and she thought of what the shopkeeper had said just a minute or two earlier, "nothing delivers the message quite like the cane." It was time to deliver the message, her body was now trembling with the excitement, Lucy could wait no longer. She took careful aim in order to ensure that the cane would land across the centre of his bare buttocks and, taking a sharp breath, rapidly delivered the first stroke, not too hard, not too gentle, she didn’t know how far he wanted to go.
He shuddered with pleasure and said, "harder". "Are you sure, can you stand the pain?" Lucy asked. "I can," he replied, "do your worst."
Lucy duly obliged, delivering five further strokes in succession, this time much harder, with a brief pause between in order for him to savour the pain.
Afterwards he pulled up his trousers and said, "thank you." "Now, perhaps you might want to just check that it all looks how you want it to," he pointed to a large mirror set into an alcove at the end of the room.
"Good idea" she said, and moved towards the mirror. As she studied her appearance in the long, elegant mirror, she didn’t notice the shop owner take a small pin like device from his pocket and jab it into his thumb, producing a small droplet of blood.
He moved towards the mirror and gestured as if to alter the angle but, in doing so, placed his thumb with the droplet of blood, onto a small area to the side of the mirror frame. Lucy noticed her reflection faded slightly when he did so and then it seemed to shimmer.
The shopkeeper moved to a position behind her and slightly to one side. Lucy hardly noticed at first, engrossed with her own appearance, but then she moved her head upwards to look at his reflection only to find that he had none. She turned to see whether he was still there and he certainly was.
"What’s going on?" she just completed the sentence when he said, "don’t worry, I’m not a vampire, look again." She looked into the mirror and saw the reflection of not the shop keeper but another man, dressed in black and with long black hair over his shoulders.
Perfect, he said, just what we are looking for. Lucy became scared very quickly but, although she tried to run she couldn’t take her eyes off the mirror and the reflection of the man in black. What happened next was beyond her comprehension. Her reflection in the mirror gradually faded and, like the shopkeeper’s, was no longer visible. Now, she saw only the reflection of the man in black, smiling. Coming from the area to the back of the mirror she could hear the voice of an older woman, “ready son, ready”. Man in black moved towards Lucy, grasping her by the shoulders and pushing her towards the mirror. Lucy tried to struggle but was helpless. She caught one final glimpse of the mirror which was now filled with the most beautiful white light, filling the whole room. She closed her eyes instinctively to protect them from the intense light and could open them no more.
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