A fantasy
Getting dressed for school is always a chore , especially as I was
running late, as usual. Being all of thirteen years old and living with my
aunty Charlotte wasn't all that bad, she is a kindly woman and took me in some
ten years ago now. But her own harsh upbringing had taught her many things. How
to keep a thirteen year old boy in line was one of them.
'Gary, are you dressed yet ?' Came the
familiar tone from downstairs.
'Yes aunty, just coming' and I muttered
under my breath sounds of ecstasy whilst making a hollow fist and shaking it up
and down as I reached the top of the stairs.
'Have you got all your school books this
time ?' aunty said as she made a beeline for my satchel hanging off the back of
the kitchen chair. Too late to intercept her I quickly replied,
'Yes aunty' and 'is that the postman
coming?' Pointing at the window. She didn't fall for it and proceeded to open
my satchel. My heart started pounding.
The pause between discovery and reaction
was palpable, a mere second maybe.
'What on earth ?' ...........
The previous day I had 'rented' a rather
old and tatty copy of Penthouse from Charlie Greeves for the princely sum of
two pounds, on the understanding it would be returned the next day, today !
Charlie is a sixth former and doesn't have
a great sense of humour, well not with us third year pupils anyway. If he saw
how aunty had screwed it up and threw it in the kitchen bin I doubt a smile
would even have graced his lips. Aunty wasn't smiling either as she dragged me
by the ear, sat down on the chair, yanked my trousers down and flung me across
her thighs. I barely had time to take a breath before she pulled my underpants
down and proceeded to spank my bum with all her might. It stung like crazy and
tears were soon hitting the kitchen floor to form individual puddles.
School was a good ten minute walk away and
it was now 08:55. I rubbed my sore bum as aunty gave my hearing a stern test.
Thankfully she turned and bustled out the door to the parlour, giving me just
enough time to retrieve Charlie's mag from the bin and stuff it down the back
of my trousers as I pulled them up.
'Gotta go aunty, I'm late,' I shouted and
fair ran out of the house, satchel swinging behind me.
Unbeknown to me, aunty had gone into the
parlour to retrieve the leather strop with the intention of telling me what to
expect when I got home. To find me gone must have perturbed her somewhat but
not as much as when she peered into the
bin to find only last nights plate scrapings.
'Little bugger !!!! I'll fix him,' was
probably what she had said as she lifted the telephone and then dialled the
number for my school.
Truth be told, my first port of call as I
entered the school gates was to seek out Charlie and return the article of my
downfall ( and reason for my sore posterior ), even if it did mean missing
assembly. Sixth formers never had to attend anyway and I knew he was bound to
be in the bike sheds smoking with his cronies. But before I could round the
corner of the building I heard,
'Gary Bartwell ! come here please,'
Headmistress Blackburn was standing at the
main entrance and her left hand was firmly implanted on her hip whilst the
other was beckoning with one finger, straight at me.
'Shit,' I whispered as I pushed my satchel
to my back, into which the mag had been returned whilst on the way to school.
'What time do you call this ?' Her rhetorical
question very nearly getting a reply but for her next sentence.
'Follow me boy !'
Just why private Frazer popped into my head
I don't know but I could hear his catchphrase 'we're doomed' and the smile it
produced did nothing to improve Miss Blackburns mood.
'You can wipe that silly grin off your face
for a start young man,' she said as I stood in front of her desk in the
headmistress's study.
She then regaled the telephone conversation
she'd had that morning with my aunty, in all it's embarrassing details and then
pronounced my sentence, in a quite matter of fact fashion.
'Six of the best is the traditional
punishment for such outrageous behaviour young man but as we have just gone
metric in our coinage, I propose to give you ten.'
I hardly had time to take in this
information as the knot in my stomach tightened when she added,
'On the bare.'
Private Frazer fucked off and was replaced
by engineer Scottie of startrek, only this time it wasn't funny. I knew I would
shortly be hearing, 'she canee take any more captain.'
The headmistress got up from her chair,
slowly and purposefully walked to the corner of her study and retrieved a cane
that hung on a hook from the front of a cupboard. My eyes followed her every
step until she turned to face me, then I averted them to my feet, hoping upon
hope that what was about to happen, wouldn't.
'I'll first like to see this magazine that
your aunt says you have,' her voice quite steady and calm. I swung my satchel
round my body and opened the flap. With shaking hand I carefully lifted it out
as if it were a ticking time bomb and placed it into her outstretched hand. I
could feel the blood rush to my face as headmistress looked down and flicked
the pages through. With a sudden motion that made me jump she slammed it down
on the table in front of me and said,
'Take those trousers down and place your
nose precisely in the middle of this disgusting piece of garbage !'
I didn't hesitate for a moment, not wanting
to anger her further, and was quickly in position with both arms outstretched
across the width of her desk, my nose pressed lightly on the cool front cover
of the magazine.
Her pace was slow and deliberate as she
rounded to my left side, her fingers taking a grip on the side of my pants.
Then I felt a cold touch of something right at the top of my crease and with a
sudden jerk the crook of the cane helped my underpants go south. My ears were
pounding with the sound of heartbeat and my stomach had shrunk to the size of a
walnut, the cane was now lightly touching the middle of my bare and shaking
bottom. It left.....then a ghostly swish and a crack and then.......nothing.....a
pause of what seemed like an age, surely that must have hurt, then oh my god, a
burn like a branding mark rushed across my cheeks. I couldn't stop it if I had
tried my hardest for a yelp escaped that surprised and shocked me. I had no time
to take all this in when the second searing stroke struck just below the first,
forcing my nose to leave the page and a second howl of anguish to fill the
room.
The front cover was now slightly magnified
by the pool of tears that lay on it, my fists ached and my heart bursting from
the pain in my bottom. Headmistress slowly walked back to the corner, rehung
her cane and turned to walk back. Ten red and prominent stripes now adorned my
once smooth and pale bum and I flinched as she snatched the magazine from the
table.
'I will destroy this filth young man and I
hope this has been a lesson to you, do you hear me ?'
I somehow managed between sobs to reply,
'Yes headmistress.'
'You can stand in the corner facing my cane
while I fill out the punishment book but don't you dare to touch your bottom
boy.'
This was turning out to be a very bad day I
mused whilst standing in the corner, not least because Charlie would not be
best pleased at losing one of his money makers. But looking on the bright side
at least aunty would be pleased now that the slate was wiped clean. Never one
to hold a grudge, aunty always forgave and forgot once a punishment had been
dished out..........
Surprising how wrong a thirteenth year old
boy can be of such things. I was still blissfully unaware of the strop and my impending
appointment with it when I got home.
It may be a ten minute walk under normal
circumstances but the way home took much longer as my bruised stomach and arms
were giving me gyp after my little 'discussion' with Charlie.
It was official, he has no sense of humour.
But at least I had a nice tea with aunty to look forward to, but I wouldn't be
telling her of my injuries. A snitch I am not. The tear in my trouser knee
might prove a little trickier though. I know, the idea popped into my head and
seemed quite feasible, I'll say I fell while running to school that morning.
Good plan I thought as I walked up the path to the front door.
'How was your day my little angel ?' aunty
asked as I closed the door behind me.
Now that's odd, I thought, she never calls
me that. Something's up. As I entered the kitchen aunty was standing in front
of the sink but in her hand was no washing up utensil. The strop was slowly and
very gently tapping her left hand, her eyes slightly narrow and very menacing,
bore into me. Victor Meldrew made an appearance and shouted in my brain, 'I
don't BELIEVED IT!'
'You can get up them stairs and wash ready
for bed,' said aunty,
'Then I will see you in the parlour in your
pyjamas in fifteen minutes my man.' The strop smacking slightly harder on her
hand as she spoke the last two words.
I can empathize with the condemned man I
thought as I descended the stairs, my pyjama bottoms pressing painfully on my
bottom with every step. I was already tearful as I opened the parlour door to
be greeted by the sight of aunty sat on the Ottoman in front of the window.
'Now, now,' she said in an almost
sympathetic tone.
'I know you have already had your
punishment at school, but this must be done.'
At least it would be over her knee and not
bent over the chair. Small comfort, but when you're in the shit, small comforts
count.
'Get over my knee young man and let's get
this sorry business over with.'
Compliant to the end I spread myself across
her lap and closed my eyes in anticipation of the stinging slaps of her
strop....I didn't have to wait long.
Aunty most carefully peeled my bottoms down
to my knees and then quite surprisingly, stroked my bum with a gentle, parental
touch.
'My my......Headmistress certainly knows
how to cane you naughty boys doesn't she ?'
I gave no answer but kept my eyes shut and
just nodded slightly. Her hand moved to the small of my back and I knew it was
coming........SMACK !!!
The strop struck home on my right bum cheek
and stung like a hundred bee stings. A full two seconds later my left cheek received
the same painful slap. I could contain my anguish no longer as the third stroke
again landed on the right one and I bawled my eyes out.
As I lay on my stomach in bed a mere ten
minutes later, hungry, tired and still getting those strange inward sobs that
come at intervals, I reflected on the six strokes aunty gave me with the strop.
She is most certainly a kindly soul as I knew in my heart of hearts that I
deserved more. But then.............I had,
Had a
bad day.
Garyntboy.
