When I was sixteen, I was sent to a private boarding school to study for my A-levels.

The school was run by two sisters, both in their late thirties.  Miss Isobel was the headmistress, and Miss Arabella, the deputy headmistress. There weren’t many boys, perhaps about twelve, so all the lessons were conducted by the two sisters.

Being aged sixteen to eighteen, and with a restricted syllabus, it was easy for just two teachers to run the school. Discipline was very strict and every boy would find themselves on punishment parade several times a term. Every misdemeanour earned a black mark against your name. And once you had six marks, they were deemed to have to be turned into ‘red marks on the bottom’.

The punishment was always the cane, six of the best!  And the venue was the special room next to the headmistress’s office.  Miss Arabella would haul you over the large desk and hold onto your wrists whilst Miss Isobel laid on six strokes of the cane across your trousered bottom. To be honest, it wasn’t too bad, as six of the cane across the seat of your trousers was a bit painful but not intolerable.  It was probably the humiliation you felt and the obvious delight of the sisters in the act of punishment that made it a punishment more so than the actual pain.

Of course in your mid-teens, the hormones are starting to kick in, so I often had a bit of a wank after a caning. Not sure why, but an hour after the cane, I just felt very excited. Then, of course, the mind starts to fantasise about what might happen, or maybe happen! After all, the sisters were very attractive to an adolescent boy!

These fantasies were fuelled by the rumours of certain boys before us who had been given extreme punishments; on the bare bum, twenty-four strokes, the headmistress in stockings and suspenders. It was fun thinking about it at the time, but nothing ever happened like that to me (sigh!).

So, twenty years on and I found myself on a trip to that part of the country for a job interview. With the memories of those strange days in my head, I thought it might be interesting to go and visit the school once more. The old fantasies came flooding back but with an extra injection of eroticism. But alas, the school was no more. It had closed down ten years ago according to the internet. But the two sisters were still there, having turned the school into a small hotel.

I rang the number and was pleased to find they had a vacancy for the night in question. So, with a racing heart, I found myself ringing the bell at the hotel entrance. The lady who came to the door was Miss Arabella, still attractive as ever in her fifties, possibly even more so. I always think a mature lady takes on an air of grace and beauty and is much more appealing than some young bimbo.

"Hello Rob, so nice to see you again," she said. She had recognized the name when I had booked and now my face. How wonderful!

"I see the school has closed down, Miss Arabella, what happened?" I asked. It seemed right to still call her Miss Arabella and I could see she was pleased that I did.

"Come on inside, and let’s get you booked in and then I’ll tell you all about it over a drink. I hope you haven’t been a naughty boy like you were in school," and she gave a little laugh.

So an hour later, I found myself in the small lounge, a glass of wine each and she began to tell me what had happened.

"Well Rob, as you know we ran the school, and yes, Miss Isobel is here as well. Just gone shopping but will be back later, and I think she will be very pleased and excited to see you again. We knew we had to deal with you naughty boys and the cane seemed a very effective method. I think when you left we were giving six of the best, but unfortunately, Miss Isobel and I found that we were enjoying punishing you older boys more and more. We made the boys wear just their gym strip, vest, and shorts, and no underpants and the old six of the best became twelve. But then the boys became too difficult to hold in place for so many painful strokes. We then had a spanking bench made to order. A fine sturdy piece of work festooned with leather straps."

This was incredible, my mind was conjuring up all kinds of images.

"Of course, now the victim was strapped down, we could do whatever we liked. Some boys were getting eighteen and even twenty-four strokes. How they howled and screamed, and I am afraid we loved it, so exciting! Then on one occasion, Miss Isobel had finished giving twelve strokes, and this boy shouted at the end that we were a couple of fucking bitches and we should be locked up. Miss Isobel was livid! She pulled down the boy’s shorts and started flaying him with the cane. One stroke after another! He screamed out, Harder!  HARDER!  Imagine our surprise when we saw his cock spurt.  After this, we had that boy on our bench many times.  Miss Isobel even experienced orgasms from the infliction of pain, and we all really enjoyed ourselves."

I was shaking my head in disbelief, yet I had an erection. This can’t be true, can it?

"Unfortunately the boy couldn't keep quiet about these highly arousing thrashings, and so the authorities became involved. More tales emerged from other boys and we were told to close the school or face prosecution. And that’s it! That’s why we are here today in our little hotel."

I heard the front door opening, and it was Miss Isobel. She was even more beautiful than I remembered. So well proportioned. I do love breasts on a woman and a large bottom. She was indeed every inch a woman.

"Hello Rob," she said, "I was so sure it was you when you booked."

"Has Miss Arabella been telling you of our adventures?"

"Yes Miss Isobel," I stammered.

"I was thinking I had a lucky escape, maybe?  You know, leaving when I did, although I have to admit having naughty thoughts about you both at times."

Miss Arabella continued, "Oh Rob, I didn’t quite finish the tale. Since leaving the school behind us, we found we could attract other ‘naughty boys’ to our hotel. These naughty boys are over twenty-one so we can do the most terrible things to them and have lots of adult fun if you understand?  We kept the spanking bench and it has pride of place in the old dormitory. Plenty of room to swing a cane and even a sjambok these days. And now you have come to visit us, one of our very first ‘naughty boys' – how wonderful!"

Miss Isobel then jumped in, "Rob, you say you had naughty thoughts about us back then? Maybe you would like to tell us about them, perhaps make it a confessional? We do so like a confession from the older ‘naughty boys’. So don’t be shy, tell us everything, and now you are in your thirties I mean everything!"

What would I say?  Is this what I had dreamed about? And was it really happening?

"Well, when you caned me, it never really hurt, but when I went to my bed I used to have a wank and want more strokes. I wanted to knock on your door and say, 'please, Miss, I need another twenty strokes.' And then the rumours about you in stockings; it just made me cum and that was it. Since then I have often wondered if you were still punishing boys and thought of you dressed in stockings and a corset, you know, naughty stuff. But now I have to admit being excited, yet scared about you have told me."

I wanted to say more, so much more, especially hearing the tales of Miss Isobel having orgasms just by caning someone.

"Well Rob, I think we will have to deal with you tonight. Most severely, as it is obvious you missed out on a real punishment. So Rob, go upstairs and have a shower and report down here at 7.00 pm prompt." Miss Arabella had a very authoritative manner and I was now well on my way to a place I could only ever dream about.

So, on the dot of seven, I came downstairs where Miss Arabella was waiting. She wore a long dressing gown, but I could see she was wearing leather boots. "Follow me, Rob," she barked and led me to the old dormitory. The door opened and in we went.

What a sight! The old spanking bench was in the centre of the room, lit with spotlights. There were mirrors on all the walls so the room looked enormous. There were canes, riding crops, and whips everywhere. Leather straps, handcuffs, hoods, and gags. A plethora of bondage and discipline equipment. And there was Miss Isobel, standing hands on hips, legs apart, dressed in amazing fetish wear: leather boots, black stockings, gleaming PVC corset, her breasts almost overflowing over the top. And finished off with long, elbow-length PVC gloves.

"How do you like your headmistress, boy?" she asked with a smile on her face.

"Amazing, beautiful." I blurted.

"Strip naked, and let’s see what your cock thinks of me."

Strip, I did, and of course my cock was rigid, much to her satisfaction. Meanwhile, Miss Arabella had disrobed, and she too was dressed in the same manner. Two beautiful Mistresses, me naked, a rock hard cock, and about to be thrashed! Is this heaven or the prelude to hell?

"MOUNT THE BENCH, BOY!" The order came and I obeyed.

I was thrashed, and yes, I believe Miss Isabel did have an orgasm. But what’s more important is that they offered me a job as gardener and handyman. And so it came to pass that I was thrashed on a regular basis by the women of my dreams.