School Shorts (5)

Original Fiction – for adult eyes only

 

Flash fiction: stories written in exactly 100 words.

All illustrations generated by Artificial Intelligence (A.I.)

Mr Jameson was waiting for me and when I nervously tapped on the door I was immediately called to enter. I found the headmaster sitting in a luxurious leather chair with his back to me. I stood submissively and on his desk I saw the senior cane. Continuing to sit, he spoke. “Travis, take off your blazer and hang it on the door. Stand in front of the desk and lower your trousers and underpants to your ankles, then bend over the desk and stretch across it getting your backside up high lad.” Just another day at Brocklehurst Grammar School.

After a few seconds, I know it is the cane for me. The headmaster is working himself up to it. He scolds me up hill and down dale. He finally ends his diatribe. I grit my teeth, grip the desk, straighten my legs, raise up my bottom. THWACK! My bum jumps at every stroke, my legs stretch further, my hands grip the desk so hard my knuckles turn white, tears come. I am covered in a cold sweat, breathing in short, shallow gulps. I stay in position, presenting my beaten bottom, waiting for him to tell me to stand up.

“Assume the position,” the Dean of Discipline brandished a long, thin wooden paddle. Anderson stood firm. “But, that’s against the law,” he protested, nodding at the shiny wood. The Dean smiled, “Only in state schools. Here I’m the law.” Anderson grimaced. He had only been at Branston Academy for two weeks and already he hated everything about it. “But, I’m eighteen,” he spluttered in disbelief. “I’m too old for this. It’s not fair.” The Dean swiped the paddle through the air. “You have much to learn about fairness and justice young man. Now bend over and let’s see that butt.”

“There was a time,” the Housemaster lamented, “when I was permitted to order you to take down your pyjamas and bend across this desk and I could have given you a stiff six-of-the best. Now the law doesn’t permit it.” Arbuthnot was not happy. He had just been gated for three Saturdays and would not be able to play rugby for the school. “I still have a couple of canes in the cupboard,” the Housemaster hinted.

“Please sir,” Arbuthnot brightened up. “I won’t tell anyone, if you don’t. I don’t want to miss rugger.” The Housemaster rose from his seat.

Almost in a daze Tomkins walked up to the desk, placed his hands a yard apart and bent forward, and stared down at the polished grain. He heard footsteps and felt the headmaster flick his blazer up over his back and then pull his shirttail. Next, he felt the headmaster smooth down his buttocks. He hoped this was only him checking he had not put padding down his trousers. With that task completed, Tomkins sensed him pick up the cane and then for the first time he felt it tap lightly across his taut bum cheeks. He clenched his teeth.

Don’t make such a fuss Pillington Major. It was just a standard Six; a senior boy like you should be able to take such a beating in your stride. Remember if you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime. The rules apply to you as well as the juniors. Next time, I promise, we’ll see how you like it with your trousers at your ankles and underpants at the knees, and don’t think I wouldn’t. Now, let me finish entering the details in the punishment book and you can go show off your marks to all your study friends.

 

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Traditional School Discipline

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