Message-ID: <24045asstr$957834632@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: mrspraycan@aol.com (Mrspraycan) X-Original-Message-ID: <20000508163737.02276.00001815@ng-fx1.aol.com> Subject: {ASSM} Remembering Lorraine:1/MrSpraycan Date: Mon, 8 May 2000 21:10:33 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, IceAltar REMEMBERING LORRAINE: 1 by MrSpraycan Sitting in this smoky bar, looking across the room at the late night crowd maneuvering for partners, I see a young woman whose face looks familiar. Just like it always is with old guys like me, it's an illusion. But the short perky blonde really does look intensely like a girl from my neighborhood, when I was a kid. Lorraine Wentworth was the youngest of three daughters, and the one most inclined to get up to mischief. About the same age as me, and bright and vivacious. One summer, when I was about 12 years old, my parents left me in the care of the Wentworths for a few weeks. I believe it was at the time of the worsening of my aunt's mysterious illness, from which, sadly, she did not recover. The Wentworth's house, adjoining ours in the cul-de-sac in Dulwich, was a mirror image of our own. And thus both reassuring and totally disorienting to visit. The Wentworths made me welcome, even turning Lorraine out of her cozy bedroom and putting her in with her next oldest sister to make space for me. Pa Wentworth was a stern, taciturn man, who worked for British Railways as a ticket inspector. Mrs Wentworth - who always wanted to be 'Peggy', even to us kids - was a kindly woman with a cherub's head of blonde hair, just like her three daughters. To a lad like me, she seemed infinitely old, though I now realize that she wasn't much beyond her mid-thirties at the time of my stay. Her daughters were always flattering her by pointing out fanciful resemblances to Petula Clark or Lesley Gore, singers of the time. I'm sure if I met her now, I'd find her very attractive. The two older sisters were already dating, and had acquired great license to come and go from the house. Not so with Lorraine, who seemed to be the scapegoat for anything that went wrong. She was regularly given penances such as doing the washing up. And I even saw her mother slap her calves with a belt on one occasion, when she answered back too cheekily. One evening, after the main course of dinner was over, Peggy began recounting an incident that had occurred while playing tennis in the tiny backyard. Pa Wentworth listened in stony silence to Lorraine's feeble excuses about how the glass frames over his marrows had been broken. Finally, he spoke. "That's it, then, young lady. I don't blame Roger here, because he doesn't know any better. But you do. Luckily, it's bath night for you. Isn't that right, Peg?" Her mother nodded, rather smugly. "So I'm going to ask your mother to make sure you get a proper cleaning up, and a good spanking, Lorraine." The other sisters giggled, and Lorraine turned a deathly white. "Daddy! No! That's mean!" "It's only fair," he replied. "It's my firm believe that if you take the correct measures with a naughty girl at the right point, you save yourself lots of trouble in later years." Her sisters tried to suppress grins. They know - as I came to learn in later months - what flirts they have become, and how their reputations are spreading among the neighborhood boys. "Oh, Daddy," Lorraine said miserably, tears in the corners of her eyes. "I don't deserve it. I don't!" Peggy leaned over and sharply slapped Lorraine on her leg, just above the knee. "Alright, little miss! No treacle pudding for you tonight. Get upstairs right now, and start running the bath." Another slap, and Lorraine leapt from her seat and rushed out. Treacle pudding was served - and delicious it was too - while in the far distance I could hear the roar of the bath filling. Peggy nodded to Pa, and left the table. The other sisters grinned to each other, then went into the living room to listen to some records. I thought I was being subtle, quietly sneaking upstairs. My excuse would be that I was retrieving my library book. But my hope was to catch a glimpse of what was happening to Lorraine. No one noticed me as I stole into my room. My bedroom - Lorraine's bedroom - was opposite the bathroom on the narrow landing. I pushed the door to, leaving a narrow crack to watch through. Peggy appeared from the couple's bedroom, a thick leather paddle in her hand, and a short bamboo cane under her arm. In the bathroom, I could see Lorraine siting on the edge of the bath, swishing the water back and forth. The old Ascot gas heater wheezed and spluttered, slowly filling the bathtub. Seeing Peggy, Lorraine leapt to her feet, standing at attention. She was wearing her pleated skirt, her long white socks and sandals, her white blouse, her cardigan. Quite polite and formal. "Good, my dear," her mother said in a kind voice that had a hint of condescension. "Now, you need to get ready, don't you?" "Yes, mummy," Lorraine replied, anxiously. "Take them off. All of them," Peggy ordered. I gaped in amazement, not daring to move. Lorraine and I had played a game of "I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours," just a few days before. She'd cheated, denying me a proper look at what was in her panties, though I'd displayed my willy to her, quite openly. I didn't think getting a look at her swelling breasts and hard pink nipples was a perfect exchange. Lorraine undressed quickly, as girls do. Her naked body was pale, shapely. I found myself staring at her round bottom, and admiring her legs. Peggy bent down towards her daughter, who was several inches shorter, and lifted her chin so their eyes met. "We're not just rewarding you for what you did with Roger today. You've been naughty for weeks, and asking for trouble, haven't you?" she said sternly. "Yes, mummy," was the quivering reply. "I've not decided exactly what, but you're keeping a secret from me, Lorraine. Something very naughty. Something to do with your panties..." "No, mummy," Lorraine said defensively. "Oh?" Peggy replied. "Then hand me the ones you are wearing today, will you?" I see Lorraine bend and pick up her panties, and hand them to her mother, her face blushing bright red. Peggy stared, then sniffed at them. She smiled, without any humor in her expression. "Oh? And how naive am I supposed to be?" she growled. "Is this something you are learning from your classmates? Or your sisters? Playing with yourself, young lady?" "Mummy..." Lorraine said feebly. "I can't help it..." Peggy shook her head. "No more protests, Lorraine. I'm going to give you a proper punishment bath tonight." "No!" my playmate shrieked. "Yes, Lorraine," is the firm reply. "I see you remember what I mean, hmm?" By now I had my trousers unzipped, and my penis in my hand. It had grown immensely in the past few days, perhaps from proximity to so many attractive young women. And it was not going to be denied a massage, not now. Lorraine was lifted into the tub, kicking and protesting. Now I got to see what she had hidden from me. Her sweet little pussy was sprouting more hair than my cock, although the paleness of her fur made that less obvious. All I saw was a swelling mound and a flash of pink, denying me the mysteries of 'holes' and other bizarre, unfathomable features I'd heard so many prurient stories about from other boys. Lorraine was held down in the hot water for several minutes, and Peggy lectured her in a low whisper. I caught a few phrases about modesty, decency and cleanliness. "Now, stand up," she finally ordered her daughter. "Stay in the tub. Hands on your head, and legs wide apart. Come on." Taking a rough-looking scrub brush from the window ledge, she soaped it. "Oh, mummy, no," Lorraine pleaded. "If you don't want to be scrubbed raw, then learn to be a clean girl," Peggy replied, with no sympathy. And Peggy proceeded to vigorously scrub Lorraine's breasts and nipples, and the innermost cracks of her genitals, just as if she were scouring pots at the sink. She bent her over and attacks the crease of her buttocks and her anus with the same vigor. Lorraine's pitiful cries didn't deter her for a moment. When she had done, she allowed Lorraine to press a flannel soaked in cold water to her sore flesh. Then ordered her: "Out of the bath, and bend over. Touching your toes." I can imagine how sensitive Lorraine's skin was, after so long in a warm bath. And I rubbed excitedly as Peggy paddles her buttocks, a frenzied expression on her face. The girl's yelps were loud and urgent, but no one was going to come to her rescue. When Lorraine's buttocks were crimson, the cane was used to produce an overlapping tracery of thin red welts. By this time, she was sobbing uncontrollably. Peggy hauled her roughly to her feet, and taking the paddle, slapped Lorraine's breasts and pubis for several minutes. I was too busy wanking to think about what was going on. Suddenly, I saw Peggy exit the bathroom, dragging Lorraine by her wrist. The girl was on her knees, scarcely able to stand. I realized that Peggy, in her rage, had forgotten that bedrooms have been reassigned during my visit. And she pushed the door open, to find me squatting, trying to stuff my well-rubbed cock back into my clothes. "And what's this!" she shrieked in rage. She let go of Lorraine's wrist, and let her tumble, sobbing to the floor. "This is becoming a house of masturbators! We must be possessed by devils!" she shouted, red-faced. She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me roughly. "I'm sorry, Peggy, I didn't mean to...." I protested. "Oh? And do you think I'll not report this to your parents, when they return...?" "Please, don't..." I could foresee the consequences. Lectures, penalties, lost pocket money, extra Sunday School. Months of misery, angst and recriminations. But, no whippings, at least. In my mind I was not sure, even then, which was worse. "It's your bath night tomorrow, isn't it, Roger?" she said after a pause. "Yes, Peggy." She smiled, catlike. Reflecting on the alternatives I was being presented, I nodded my assent. Copyright (c) 2000 by MrSpraycan -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+