Friday, 23 September 2011

A Back-to-School Adult - An Anonymously Penned Tale

Hi chaps and chapesses ! Well, I finally finished the piece I was especially commissioned to write, at least in so far as I could take it under the present circumstances. Who knows, some part of it may someday see the light of day in book form as a short novelette, although I very much doubt it. I have become a little disillusioned when it comes to publishing – at least as far as publishing through LULU goes! I have plenty of unfinished, part-written fragments, though, that might be of interest to some and which in due course (perhaps with a little additional 'polishing') I will be putting out on here.
Meanwhile an anonymous contributor sent in the following piece, inspired by the tabloid appearance of one Christine Bleakly, a UK television celebrity, back in school uniform. Originally appended as a comment to my last posting I decided to give it an airing here as not everybody reads through the comments added to blog entries (I know I often don't on other people's). Consequently I have deleted the corresponding comment to avoid duplication. I have also done a little judicious editing to make it clear it is a work of fiction based on a fictional character and merely inspired by the antics of the well-known newsreader – one cane never be too careful and it doesn't do to blatantly refer to a living character directly by name, not even in an obviously fictional context! They often don't take to kindly to it.
And if you are wondering what all the fuss is about here are a couple of the pics that are currently bouncing around all over the blogasphere – and now on with Mr (or Miss, Mrs, Ms) Anonymous’ tale of sting-in-the-bum delectation. But where should it go from here? Why not add your suggestions? There's plenty of inspirational potential in those shots, I think. Perhaps our anonymous might then incorporate the best into the next part (I hope there is a next part!).


.....


BACK TO SCHOOL

Christine – now 'Chrissie' blushed slightly under the Headmaster’s appraising stare, rolling her eyes up and smiling in that special way she had before straightening her tie and folding her hands behind her back.
The Headmaster’s eyes twinkled as he watched the anxious schoolgirl “polish” the front of her left shoe on the back of her right calf. Three weeks before Christine had sat with her producer in this very office. In her smart red dress Christine had been the very picture of professional self-assurance: poised, confident, and in control.
In contrast, the nervous schoolgirl fidgeting in front of his desk looked like the gangly and awkward teenage daughter of the young woman who had arranged her visit.
The Headmaster smiled. Poor Chrissie! She had been so confident, so cocky! And now she was just another teenager, trying to look her best for uniform inspection!
“Your uniform is acceptable,” he said stiffly, secretly relishing the chance to grade the once self-assured ex-celebrity as if she were one of his pupils. “Assuming of course you don’t rub shoe polish onto the back of your socks!”
Chrissie froze, horrified at the thought, and the Headmaster’s chiding. She frantically twisted her to look at the back of her sock, afraid of what she might find, almost falling over in the process.
Pleased to have knocked her off balance, the Headmaster quickly issued his next command as he turned to finish mixing his drink. “For goodness sake, sit down before you break something. The last thing I need is another clumsy schoolgirl busting a lamp!”
Christine looked around the massive study for somewhere to sit. She was standing next to the incredibly comfortable and leather wingchair. But somehow, it didn’t seem right…
Much to the Headmaster’s surprise, when he turned around he found that Chrissie had selected the simple Windsor chair he kept against the wall, moving it across the room so that she could face him as they talked. It was a simple but sturdy low backed wooden chair, unpadded, with wooden spokes and a hard wooden seat. Clearly a relic of years gone by, somehow it seemed appropriate.
Chrissie squirmed awkwardly in her chair, clearly uncomfortable at the way the unbending seat was pressing into her tender bottom. The Headmaster considered offering her the other chair, but decided instead to simply sit back and enjoy the sight of her wiggling on the hard wooden seat.
“Rather uncomfortable, isn't it?” he said, chuckling in amusement as she fruitlessly attempted to shift her weight to one of the large armrests. “It’s the “naughty girl” chair. Of course in your day, girls usually used it for kneeling, not sitting!”
Seeing her puzzled look, the Headmaster crossed the room and opened the cupboard door. the one-time celebrity’s jaw dropped as the Headmaster revealed a razor strap and cane hanging on the inside door.
“You still have those?” she gasped.
“No, but I keep them here, on display, so that pupils know they are present. Scares the heck out of the little devils, even if they’re only for show, and to keep the little miscreants in line."
“It certainly kept ME in line!” Chrissie admitted, swallowing as she stared up in awe at the naughty schoolgirl’s nightmare. “The whole time I was here, I was terrified I was going to be caned! Fortunately, I was clever enough never to get caught.”
“Or lucky enough,” the Headmaster said, bristling at Chrissie’s absurd suggestion that somehow she had repeatedly outsmarted him. Chrissie grinned back at him, flashing him her best “cat-that-ate the canary” grin.
The Headmaster did not return her smile. Christine was a visitor, but she was also a student, even if it was only for the day. As a condition of her return she had cheerfully promised “to obey all of the rules” and there were certainly rules about impertinence and disrespect.
There was a certain cheekiness about this TV favourite, an impudence in her manner and tone, that suggested the need for an old-fashioned correction…

9 comments:

Orage said...

"and now on with Mr (or Miss, Mrs, Ms) Anonymous’ tale of sting-in-the-bum delectation."

I wonder why the said Anonymous didn't give his fictional name since we know him (yes!) quite well here and elsewhere.

Orage, known in the same elsewhere under another user name also starting with a capital O, wink wink, nudge, nudge.

Garth, I liked the unconscious slip in "one cane never be too careful"

Toyntanen said...

Who said it was unconscious, Orage!

Orage said...

Well, I just thought it might be!

Toyntanen said...

Well, you know me, Orage! I'm as 'word-blind' as hell, as dyslexic as it gets. But I like to make out I'm clever too!

Anonymous said...

So, not being from the UK, I had some questions.

What color would her knickers be? Her uniform definitely suggests a fondness for green, but would such a color scheme typically extend down to her bare essentials?

And if so, do you think she took her adherance to uniform regulations that far? Because otherwise, her uniform does seem quite authentic!

Also, what did they strap girls with in her part of the country back in the day?

And how many strokes for impertenance?

Inquiring minds want to know!

Orage said...

@Anonymous
It seems you haven't reaad enough British spanking stories!
I'm not British either but having read widely on this subject I'll answer your questions and Garth can correct me if I'm mistaken.

1) With the uniform come what they call"regulation knickers", the color being usually the same as the uniform.

2)Her uniform looks authentic but comments on the spanking library board suggested it was also brand new and bought for the occasion.

3) Since her old school was in East Belfast I can't answer your last question: the cane or maybe the tawse as in Scotland.

Anonymous said...

It would seem that her knickers should be bottle green, then. If they are NOT, I suppose that would be a uniform violation.

In terms of the tool that might be used to correct her cheekiness, Belfast is in Ireland, as is Miss Bleakley's lovely lilting accent.

Google Irish Spanking Strap. Here's an interesting link:

http://leatherstrapspanking.blogspot.com/2011/03/irish-school-strap.html?zx=ff0015e3e7c97d13

Would this tool do the job, Garth? It certainly seems like a wicked little thing, and quite capable of teaching a memorable lesson, particularly if delivered on the bare. Of course I'm sure you'd agree that the Head should spare her that particular indignity, under the circumstances!

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