It was the early sixties, and mid-summer. It was the beginning of school holidays, and next term I would become a prefect in the upper sixth, and gain the status I had aspired to since my first day as a frightened sprog. I had two terms of hard revision and preparation before taking my A level exams and thence hopefully on to university and a profession (a path laid out for me about ten years ago, and which I had no problems with)

Unfortunately I hadn't yet managed to find a vacation job, so I had plenty of time on my hands.  Surprisingly for England the summer weather was superb; the test match against Australia which I had listened to eagerly on radio whilst laying in the sun in the garden had finished yesterday with an England win. All was very well with my world. This morning Mum had just made me some sandwiches and I was starting out on a long cycle ride on my new Dawes Double Blue racing bike around the local river valley.

I had gone barely a mile up the road when I came to the local manor house. Often while walking the dog I had envied the fruit hanging over the high walls, and eaten any fresh fallers. Today there was a ladder against the wall and a couple of ripe apples just within my reach. I couldn't resist the temptation; there was nobody in sight or earshot so I lay my bike down, climbed the ladder and was just picking the fruit when I heard a piercing shout of:

"You boy, what the hell do you think you're doing, get down at once."

I almost fell down the ladder in my haste and turned to see an angry Lady Amelia Langton brandishing her walking stick at me.

"You common thief, give me my apples this instant. Now make yourself useful, get back up with my stick and this bag and pick the rest of those apples for me."

Hopeful of being let off I obeyed immediately and did as instructed. I descended and handed her the full bag, and stick.

I received a sharp tap on my bottom from the stick and was ordered to bring my bike in and follow her. I duly entered a delightful walled garden and followed her into the kitchen. We were joined by a very beautiful but very bohemian woman in her early forties holding some artist's paint brushes.

"What on earth is all the fuss about?" she asked.

"I've just caught this lad stealing our apples, Emily;" replied Lady Langton; before continuing: "Right my boy; wait here while I phone the police."

I interjected with some panic "You can't be serious. The police won't be bothered over a couple of apples."

"Won't they, my boy; let's see about that;" she continued.

"It could ruin my career! Please don't!" I replied. I was really worried as I was considering reading law at university and didn"t dare have any police reports against me.

"It does seem rather draconian for a couple of apples, Amelia Surely there must be some other way; perhaps he could work them off." Emily interjected. I immediately fell in love with her; her voice sounded like a sparkling stream, she looked so gentle and beautiful, was dressed rather outlandishly in bright colours; and was totally unlike any woman I had previously met.

"How would your headmaster deal with you, boy?" asked Lady Amelia sternly.

"I suppose he would cane me, madam." I answered.

"Excellent, that's the answer my boy. If you drop you shorts for a smart caning from us then we can forget all about it. Water under the bridge, account settled in full, and all that. Emily fetch me a couple of canes, you boy follow me."

I hesitated, but after a little thought decided that a caning, however humiliating or painful was preferable to the police. I followed a few paces behind, still wondering whether to just accept or see if she was bluffing.

We entered a day room adjacent to the kitchen, which was comfortably furnished with old but expensive and comfortable furniture.

"Pull that armchair out and turn it around," she ordered. I obeyed, and lifted this heavy armchair upholstered with birds and flowers in the oriental style. It had two wooden arms and wasn't too heavy or large. I realised that the back reached exactly to my hips.

Just then Emily entered carrying four canes of differing diameters and lengths. I had been expecting to see ordinary garden bamboos, but was astonished that she was carrying three crook handled school canes of differing thicknesses and length, and a rather evil brown knobbly straight cane with a leather handle. It didn't occur to me at that time, as I stood waiting in dread anticipation of the impending agony these fearful implements would impart; but later that night I wondered just why they were so well equipped with school canes.

"Right go to the lavatory, prepare yourself, and return without your shorts and pants; and then bend over that chair!" ordered Lady Amelia.

In a trance-like state I obeyed without question. When I was over the chair, Emily pulled my tee-shirt up to my armpits, and stroked and gently smacked my bum. My dick which was already half-erect immediately stood to attention to my massive embarrassment.

"Stop that Emm, you naughty girl. I'll have to cane you as well if you don't behave. Now young man we have agreed that four strokes from each of us should suffice. This is your last chance to choose the police."

"No madam, please cane me." I said as firmly as I could manage.

"Very well, young man, and I trust that this will remove any kleptomaniac tendencies from you once and for all."

Emily moved forward, her skirt enveloping my face and her sex gently pressing against my forehead. I could smell an odour I later recognised as feminine arousal. Her hands firmly pressed on my shoulders, preventing me from rising. In the seconds before the cane struck I realised that her hands were not soft and feminine but quite hard almost like a working man's. I later discovered this was due to sculpture.

"Jeesus Christ!" I couldn't help but gasp as a stripe of pure unadulterated pain burnt across my naked bottom. It burnt and stung, rose to a crescendo and was just beginning to subside to more bearable levels when the next landed. I was able to restrict myself to a gasping grunt. My God, the cane was a brute and the slashing, stinging sensation on a bare and unprotected bum was very different to my headmaster's much heavier cane thudding onto a bum covered by pants and thick school trousers.

"Swish, thwack" and the agony burnt in again, this time a surge of nervous sensation began across my bum, rushed up my spine to my brain where it almost made me gag, and then rushed back down to result in an amazing sensation in my scrotum. To my astonishment my dick began to stiffen again.

Lady Amelia's fourth and last stroke whipped in and again forced a strangled grunt, but the pain although intense was becoming more bearable as my all too visible arousal grew.

She and Emily changed place, I managed to watch Emily test a couple of canes, before finally choosing a long thin cane. She took up position, stepped back and skipped in.

She may have looked slender and feminine, but years of chiselling stone had given her great strength. The cane hissed down and slashed a line of quite exquisite agony across my bum; its pain was subtly different to the previous cane, in some ways more bearable, in other ways worse.

I just managed to stay in place for the next three strokes, which amazingly brought my dick to its full erect glory. Lady Amelia released her grip, and I grabbed my bum-cheeks and hopped around trying to massage the pain out of them.

Emily put her arms around me and hugged me, kissing my forehead while massaging my bum and congratulated me on taking a very severe caning bravely. To my surprise, Lady Amelia went to a cabinet and poured three large gin and tonics, while Emily fetched some ice. This was my first taste of a full strength G&T, and it was amazing. We sipped our drinks; suddenly I realised I was still standing virtually naked, and tried to cover myself much to the ladies' amusement. "It's a bit late now young man," Amelia laughed; "By the way what's your name?"

"Paul English," I replied.

"Paul, you're quite the young Adonis;" said Emily. "I should like to paint and sculpt you, would you agree to that; of course I shall pay you for your time."

I blushed bright red, which made them both laugh. "You've nothing left to show us except your shoulders, and I've seen plenty of life models. Besides which I can't imagine you cycling far on that bum today. Why not stay the afternoon and let me sketch and paint you. I'll pay you a fiver."

That settled it; I only earned fifteen shillings for a whole Saturday, working at the cycle shop in town. Five pounds was unbelievable.

I freshened up and we went into the courtyard, where Emily directed me into the desired poses and sketched quickly.  Lady Amelia lay on a lounger, smoking coloured Sobranies through a long mother of pearl cigarette holder, and read "Country Life". She refilled her glass and languidly asked me if I would like to help with the heavy gardening jobs, a couple of days a week and I immediately agreed.

At one o'clock a very pretty young girl wearing an incredibly short black skirt, entered and said in French "Would you like lunch here or in the dining room, Madame."

The maid looked at me and smiled broadly, and grimaced and rubbed her bum.

"Here Anne-Marie; and will you join us please. Did you see Paul being beaten?"

"Oui Madame, I regarded it through the porte." She replied giggling in a mixture of French and English.

Anne-Marie then laid an excellent table; a Provencal meal of salad, cheese and cold meat, accompanied by sparkling water and white wine. In those days I had never eaten so finely in my life.

She joined us and Lady Amelia conversed with her in fluent French while Emily and I struggled in halting school-French. I discovered that Lady Amelia's family had a "little place in Provence" - at the word little, Emily smiled at me, raised her eyebrows, and shook her head. Anne-Marie's mother was the cook there and she had been brought to England to improve her skills. She admitted that she had enjoyed watching me being caned. She had never seen "une canne Anglaise" as she called it before, but had frequently felt the martinet on the back of her legs with her skirt raised from her mother and the nuns who taught her. For more serious offences she had been strapped on the bare bottom by the senior sisters at her convent school.

Lady Amelia smiled and said "We'll have to rectify that, won't we Anne-Marie; next time you are clumsy and break something."

I'm pleased to say that I watched her fantastic naked bottom being caned and whipped with a martinet a few times, and even joined her on a couple of unforgettable occasions.

That summer was one of the more memorable in my life; I was caned on several occasions, and even caned Anne-Marie and Emily. They both initiated me into the arts and joy of love.

My experiences that summer set me up for life.