TAWSE FOR THOUGHT ( a fantasy)

Lined up in two rows I could just make out from the back a very smartly attired girl facing us. She dressed no differently to the rest of the girls in the queue except she had a shiny badge on her lapel. The word 'Prefect' written diagonally across it and a self confident look on her face made everyone, including myself, shuffle their feet and look anywhere except at her directly.
Uniform inspections always make me nervous anyway but as I had not yet got my new one I stuck out like a sore thumb.
Surely if your thumb is sore you'd keep it tucked in.
Anyway, the procession moved forward until only yours truely was left facing the dragon of st. justens.
Looking me up and down she did a circuit around me then made me jump with, 'WHAT do you call those',
Pointing down at my feet I surmised that she meant my shoes. 'They're clarks miss' I blurted out', then regaining a little more composure I added, 'he wants them back tomorrow'.
I couldn't rid the smirk from my face even as we neared the headmasters' study. It had been worth it just to see her speechless for a few seconds and the look of a cartoon kettle about to burst.
All I could make out from outside the door was a low mumble until, 'Gary, get in here!' was bellowed from within. That's when the swallowed a brick feeling appeared in my stomach and as I entered the dreaded room dragon brushed past me with more than a hint of a smile on her face.
Bitch, I thought as she closed the door behind me.
A good clue as to what you're going to get is if the headmaster is sitting at his desk or standing by the window. You see all his canes are kept in a cupboard by the window but his slipper and strap are in the drawer of his desk.
The brick dissolved a little as he looked up at me from his chair, his fingers forming an inverted V shape under his chin as he rested his elbows on the desk.
I only heard the first line of his sentence, 'First day back at school and here you are again Gary'. Then his voice petered out as my mind played a guessing game of, strap or slipper?, pants or bare?, six or twelve?
'Get your shorts down boy and get yourself over my desk'.
He had my full attention again.
My face not one foot from the far side of his desk, it was a relief to see his hand reach into a drawer until that is, it withdrew a brown leather strap about two foot in length that was split into three at one end. Holy crap! a tawse! Never had this before, I thought. The brick inside me now made of lead as I felt my pants being pulled down to just below my exposed bottom.
'You will count all six boy' he said, 'and thank me for each one'. Ah well, six, won't be too bad.....will it?
I never heard it coming, no sound, no swish, just a loud 'SSMACK'.
Holy mother of god that stings. Ow ow it won't subside.
'One sir' I managed after the breath I'd been holding was finally released.. 'Thank you sir' brought a second crack from behind me and a burst of scolding pain tracked across both cheeks. Only the pain intensified afterwards on my right cheek at the very end of the tawses' strike.
There used to be an advert for orange drink that said, 'You know when you've been tango'd'
Well, you know when you've been tawsed. By god it lingers. The fingers of it must fan out as it comes down then strikes your bum at near sound barrier speed.
Just after number three had been counted the remnants of the brick in my stomach must have tried to escape up my throat because as I blurted out thank you sir my voice croaked. The lump grew to a blockage as number four landed.
I couldn't help myself, an involuntary yelp shot out and as I opened my eyes again they were suddenly moistened with tears.
The blockage burst on number fives' arrival and a sound like a castrated wolf on a moonlit night filled the room. Probably filled the whole school block infact.
Six couldn't come soon enough for me then and I wanted only to rush to the boys toilets to try and dowse these flames on my arse.
As I pulled my shorts back up I hoped and prayed that dragon wasn't gloating outside the door, waiting to greet me.  

Blame my I.D.
Gary.      

My Happy Place...A continuation of the story.

'Intriguing answer' said the headmaster, 'well then, you'd better come here and bend over then boy'.
My mind was still in shock from my previous answer and so I dutifully obeyed and took up the position, resting my hands on the far side of his desk and trying my best to stick my bottom out but keeping a straight back. See, Told you it was difficult!
Now there are three views that I have whilst in this position, my feet, the floor or the close up of his school desk top. But this time I could just make out the left side of the headmaster in my peripheral vision as well. Then something else briefly came into view. The long swish of rattan cutting the air at speed was replaced by a loud CRACK. Something akin to a dart impacted my right flank and two words burst in my head, F...... HELL. Fortunately those words didn't escape and were replaced by 'one sir' etc. etc.
Even though my bottom was still clad and so protected to a small degree I had not till now experienced such pain. Why on earth do I take notice of my ID?
The brief glimpses I was getting out of my left side vision only now registered in my befuddled brain.
Cane tip. I was seeing the cane tip on the top of the full swing.
I wonder if the H.M. plays golf ? He'd be quite a long hitter if he di....CRACK Ouch!!! Bugger that hurts!
Now I am not particularly brave or stupid for that matter, So, after no: 12 was counted and thanked for I stayed still and waited.
The room lit up by a camera flash and I knew that my headmaster was making a record of this naughty boys' predicament.
Quite innocently and probably naively I asked if he would 'like my shorts and pants down', you know, so he could photograph the results better.
'You know, I think I would', said the headmaster.
That done I repositioned myself and..
Oh no, he's along side me again. Surely not. That's not what I meant.
Cane tip comes into view then disappears.
A searing, intense pain burns into the right side of my buttock. I am unable to speak. I want to yell. To let it out. To burst. Tears are surely to follow and yet they don't come. Only this branded with a hot iron pain fills my brain.
I cannot remember if I counted all six. Cannot recall if I cursed out loud or not. I was only sure that there must be blood splats covering the floor and blood running down his now still cane.
But of course it was not.
Nor was my buttock in shreds as I had imagined it to be. I had survived. Despite my inner devils' best efforts
to destroy my seat it was still intact. And a warm inner glow took over me. That feeling inside that you get when equilibrium has returned to your world.
All is well.
'Would you like a coffee?' he smiled at me and there it was. I was back in my happy place again......


Something familiar popped out of my head and sat on my shoulder again. 'That gum you've been chewing' it said, 'you should put it on his cane when he leaves the room'.
I was so wrong, I am stupid.
Very, very stupid.

And very naughty...(nt).

Inspiration from abroad

If only Punch was as pleased as I was to be once again draped over the headmasters' knee getting my cheeks warmed up by his firm hand.
Actually, I've always thought Punch must have been a top. Anyway, I digress.
I knew full well that my pants (that's underpants for our over the pond friends) would be pulled down very shortly but I hadn't banked on the sharp sting of his strop. Even though it was doubled up and so quite short in length the impact made my now bare bum burn with every stroke. He had clearly made up his mind to match my bottom to my suntan with this new implement.
I wonder just what Punch was so pleased about? He always had a red nose so I guess he drank a lot. Sorry.
It was a relief to be given a little corner time (see picture) even though I knew full well what came next.
The swish from behind me was all too familiar and his question need not have been asked. Assuming the position as best I could (I always get this wrong) he instructed me to 'straighten that back boy'.
I just had time to wonder if after my break abroad I would still find his cane as painful as ev..
Swish thwack. The two sounds very close together then a discernible pause before ..... O.M.G. That burn. That electric wire burn. Question answered, Bloody hell yes I doooo.
I can't speak for every one but I always find that the first four maybe five strokes are the most painful. After that my bum goes sort of numb a bit. Unless that is if he strikes the same place twice, Then it's a much longer lasting and somehow deeper burn sensation. Takes your breath away I can tell you.
Concentrate Gary, Don't lose count.....
All too soon it's 'twelve sir, thank you sir, thank you for my punishment.'
Having dressed and standing before him he asked 'do you feel suitably punished boy?'
Inner devil popped out of my head, sat on my shoulder and then some damn fool said 'actually sir, no sir, I don't.'   Shit! Who said that?

                                          To be continued....
Why the title I hear you ask,
If it hadn't been for Hermione and Bonnie this blog would have ended.             
                           To kindred spirits, many thanks.
                                                 Gary.

Human emotions

Fascinating isn't it ? There I was sitting at my breakfast table with tears streaming down my face. The coffee I had made in front of me was untouched, unable to take one sip. After all the hard spankings and slipperings, belts and very hard ( on occasions ) canings that my headmaster gave me I never shed a single tear. Although he did get bloody close with 'old vic' once or twice. And yet just one kind reply from Hermione, a person I do not know and lives in a completely different country, got to me. I quess we are all vunerable at some time no matter how old we are. Many thanks Hermione. xx

Choices in life.

Having been without my mentor, the headmaster, for seven weeks now I am champing at the bit and desperate for a good spanking. The need inside me is like a hollow ache that only leaves when I sleep. Even then dreams taunt me. Just when I was on the threshold of a wonderful and exciting new world my door got slammed in my face. And it hurt. Hurt much more than any of the canings I got from the H/M. Oh those memories. But life throws up many problems and mine was to have to choose between two paths. The love and respect of my wife and family is the one that won. But still that ache won't go away.........