Michael Iveson was a forty-four-year-old bachelor and he was currently on a two-week touring holiday in Scotland. He was travelling alone and staying in Guest Houses and B&B's.
He was visiting a town in The Highlands and he had two nights booked in a Guest House. He had arrived the previous evening and was exploring the town the next morning. In the square was a museum that contained a mixture of things, mostly relating to the region.
Part of the building had artefacts from the 1745 uprising in favour of Bonnie Prince Charlie that culminated in the battle of Culloden and the rest of the building contained miscellaneous items. The museum was very popular, especially with tourists, but was not particularly busy at the moment.
Michael was in a room that contained all sorts of things and at this moment he was alone in there. In the centre of the room, there was a large table, but it was what was on the table that caught Michael's eye. It was a genuine birch rod as used in the British legal system for the punishment of delinquents until the 1940s, although it was used in prisons after then and in the Isle Of Man until the 1970s.
There was a card on the table indicating that the last birching sentence in this town had been carried out in 1948.
Michael's attention was drawn to the item and he found himself wondering just what it felt like to receive a thrashing on the bare buttocks with an item such as this. Michael had never received a beating of any sort, but for as long as he could remember, he had had an interest in stories of school canings and in more recent times he had become fixated on videos of males getting their arses whipped. He had a preference for videos with a female administering the beating, hopefully, a mature woman.
Sometimes, whilst he masturbated as he watched red lines appearing across a male backside in a video, he would think of going onto the internet and finding someone to do something similar to him. Sexually, Michael was bi-sexual, having had physical relationships with both males and females, but he really liked the idea of any corporal punishment on him being administered by a female.
Whilst Michael was looking at this birch rod and thinking what he was thinking, he had not heard someone else enter the room, so it was a surprise when a female voice said, in a Scottish accent, "Looks like that could do some damage to someone's bottom."
Michael turned to see a woman that was clearly older than him, although it was difficult to determine how much older, "Um, yes, um, it does," he stammered and he was sure that he must be blushing. He felt as though he had just been caught looking at a porn magazine or, worse still, with his erect penis in his hand, or both.
The woman was reasonably attractive and quite solidly built, just the sort of woman that he had envisaged himself bending over for, in fact.
"Don't worry, that item gets a lot of people's attention, " said the woman in a kindly tone.
"Yes, I imagine it does; Do you work in the museum?" said Michael, feeling slightly less embarrassed.
"No, but I often visit," replied the lady who really was rather good-looking.
Michael could not think of anything to say but thought he had better say something, "I am just in town for a couple of days," although his English accent had already indicated to the woman that he was not local.
"There was me thinking that you were born and bred here," teased the woman.
By then, a few more people had entered the room so Michael and the woman smiled at each other and moved on through the museum. They smiled at each other a couple of more times in the next few minutes and Michael was thinking of asking the woman if she would like to go for a drink. He had plucked up the courage to ask her, but when he looked around for her, she was nowhere to be seen. Michael felt strangely devastated.
The woman had every intention of talking to the quite handsome man again and she also intended to mention the birch rod again. When Michael left the museum, she was waiting in the square and Michael's face lit up when he saw her.
"Hello again," he said, but he felt strangely nervous.
"Hello to you, " she replied.
"Um, I don't suppose I could buy you a drink?" Michael said hopefully.
"Do you ask all women that catch you looking at birch rods for a drink?" she beamed.
"No, I ...oh, you are teasing me," Michael replied when he saw the woman's eyes almost laughing at his discomfort.
Michael was also starting to feel another discomfort because his penis was hardening in his trousers, he did not know if it was because of the woman, or because of the birch rod, or both.
"A drink would be nice, please," said the woman, who had noticed a forming bulge in the man's trousers.
Having advised Michael against the first bar that he had suggested, they were soon sat opposite each other in the corner of another bar with the drinks that Michael had purchased.
"Thank you, are you going to tell me your name?" the woman had asked when Michael had returned with the drinks.
"Oh, it is Michael, Michael Iveson, " replied Michael.
The woman held out her hand and they shook hands over the table, "Lorna, Lorna MacIntyre, pleased to meet you, Michael," she said.
"Pleased to meet you too, Lorna," said Michael, wondering how far this was going to go.
Michael went on to tell Lorna where his home was and where he was staying, along with where else he had so far been in Scotland and where else he intended to go.
"Do you live in town, Lorna?" Michael asked. She had no ring on her wedding finger, so he was hopeful that she was not married, although she could, of course, live with someone.
"Just outside town, a quite isolated cottage, all on my own," said Lorna with her eyes on Michael. She was pleased that the 'all on my own,' seemed to register with Michael, judging by his expression change. Lorna, who was actually aged fifty-eight, rather liked the thought of having this handsome man in her bed, but she also had other plans for him.
"An attractive woman like you should not be on her own, " said Michael, who was now very much fancying her.
"Oh, I do have guests from time to time," said Lorna, who was hoping that she was talking to her next one.
The conversation continued with them both a bit tentative about suggesting that they go to Lorna's cottage.
"What were you thinking when you were studying that birch rod?" asked Lorna, out of the blue.
"Oh, well, I, um..." started Michael, feeling suddenly reticent.
"I think you were imagining feeling it across your arse, am I right?" asked Lorna, with a slightly strange look in her eyes.
"No, no, I wasn't," replied Michael, not very convincingly.
"Do you like having your bottom whipped, Michael?" asked Lorna, who now certainly had a strange look in her eyes.
"No, no, I have never.." replied Michael, who had suddenly become tongue-tied.
"But you would like to?" said Lorna, more as a statement than a question.
Right at this moment, Michael would love to be bending over to take a thrashing from this attractive mature woman, but how could he tell her that?
His silence was all that Lorna needed, "Sometimes my guests are naughty boys or girls and I deal with them appropriately," said Lorna, with her eyes fixed on Michael.
Still no word from Michael, so Lorna pressed on, "Are you a naughty boy, Michael?"
"Yes Lorna, I am," Michael heard himself replying, but he was shocked that he had actually said it.
"I thought so; I do not have a birch rod, but I have a cane or a tawse, you can feel whichever you want," said Lorna.
Michael was back to stunned silence again, so Lorna continued talking, "I suggest you cancel tonight at your guest house and spend the night in my bed, after your beating."