An Errand for Mrs Billings

The final part of the Mr Balcher trilogy from Blushes Supplement 24 — the further trials and tribulations of the succulent Sharon Smithfield (A Ritual Caning and Mr Balcher Strikes Again)

Looking warily about. Rather in the manner of Mr Balcher in fact. But this is not Mr Balcher. Oh no, no one is going to mistake the shapely, blonde figure of Sharon Smithfield for Mr Balcher. It is Mr Pearling’s room again and indeed there are still those old — a week old now — appointments for Sharon and Janice chalked on the board. Mr Balcher seems to have completely given up on his duty of wiping notice boards — but then Mr Pearling seems also to have discontinued writing on notice boards because there has been no attempt to mark anything up since. Does Mr Pearling have something on his mind, to thus break with such well-established practice? Mr Balcher we can guess will certainly not be doing anything he doesn’t have to and if Mr Pearling is not keeping after him…

There are other changes here — although one must hasten to add that these do not include curtailment or discontinuance of corporal punishment in spite of notification of such appointments not being made on the board. Girls are informed and a record kept in the ledger as before. And these appointments certainly take place. As evidence of this there is at this moment, here to the side of Mr Pearling’s room as Sharon looks warily around, a birch standing in a jug of water. Oh yes, there is no change in that department. But there are certain other changes, minor one might think, or not, depending on one’s point of view. One particular change would be discovered if one could at this moment slide one’s hand up to her shapely bottom — or even into that warm, moist nest between her thighs. If one did this, as Mr Balcher were he here undoubtedly would do, one would discover, and Mr Balcher would reaffirm what he already knows, that Sharon is not wearing knickers. There are not those special transparent plastic ones, nor are there the skin-tight cotton punishment shorts. Not even any more usual examples of female underwear. Nothing.

And it is connected with this fact that Sharon is in here looking apprehensively round as if at any moment she might be caught in a punishable offence. What has happened is that Mr Pearling has decreed that until further notice — displayed on a freshly-wiped notice board? — girls will not wear knickers during their normal daily routine. That is why she is not wearing any. But she has also been given an errand this morning, by Mrs Billings who is in charge of domestic arrangements. There is a number of small items Mrs Billings requires from town — stationery, some thread, etc — and Sharon has been detailed to go. But… going into town without knickers? It involves a short bus ride for one thing and if it is necessary to go upstairs… And also merely walking about the town, going into shops. Well… Mrs Billings, when Sharon voiced these qualms, said she imagined it would be in order to put a pair on and then take them off again when she got back. Of course what Sharon should do is check with Mr Pearling but as usual she is reluctant to go to him if it can be at all avoided. There is always the very good chance he will find some excuse — or not even worry about an excuse — to get a cane out. Or that tawse. Or something.

So she would much rather not. And Mrs Billings has said it seems in order. But one problem is that Sharon doesn’t have any knickers. When Mr Pearling made his new ruling all knickers had to be handed in. Mrs Billings has some of them, but when Sharon asked her she said they were all in the laundry. But Mrs Billings does not have all the knickers. Mr Pearling has some and they are in this chest in his room. Together with his chastisement implements, though in a different drawer: there is a certain unpleasant connection there.

So that is that. Sharon is here to get a pair of knickers from Mr Pearling’s chest. The wary look is because she is fearful of getting caught. That thought doesn’t bear thinking about. It would be no good saying Mrs Billings thought it was all right because she hasn’t given Sharon permission to take knickers from Mr Pearling’s chest. Mrs Billings is not in a position to give such permission. The thought of getting caught — red-handed! — is making Sharon sweat. It might almost have been better to go as she is, without knickers; except that you never know what might happen. And there are certain unpleasant men about who, if they think a girl is one of those delinquent nineteen-year-olds from the institution, will start something. And if they were to discover… No, she does need to wear knickers.

Therefore steel yourself and do it and get out. Open that chest and grab a pair and put them on. Mr Pearling won’t come in right now, he is at a meeting. So…

Pulling open a drawer. It is of course the wrong one. Two tawses and a coiled leather strap. Oh Christ! The lower drawer. Yes. Knickers. Grabbing a pair. They could belong to various girls and Sharon can’t immediately recognise a pair of her own. But these will do: they might be Janice’s. Sliding them on. She is sweating but now… Oh Christ! The door. Mr Pearling…

No. Mr Balcher. A gasp of relief. The feeling that she is going to have a heart attack recedes. Though of course Mr Balcher…

‘Young Sharon! ‘Ello! Wot you doin’ in ‘ere then?’

Oh! Mr Balcher is almost as bad as Mr Pearling. Sharon has been avoiding Mr Balcher. As far as possible. Whereas he has been doing his best to corner her. Mr Balcher wants another visit to his room. Like that other one no doubt. When he said they would just have a cup of tea and a chat. But instead he made her take her knickers off and spanked her bum. And then… that other. Sharon can’t bear to think about it, she is just hoping for the best.

‘You ‘aint got an appointment.’ Mr Balcher is closing in. And closing off any retreat, or the one out to the corridor at least. ‘Mr Pearling don’t ‘ave no appoin’ments, not this mornin’.’

Sharon backing away. And fending him off. But that is not easy, it is impossible in fact. Mr Balcher at close quarters has more arms than an octopus and though they may not be greatly practised in wielding a broom etc. they are expert at boring in on a girl’s more intimate parts. Most intimate parts. Which means that Mr Balcher very soon discovers… ‘‘Ere. Wos this. Mr Pearling said no knicks. ‘Is strict instruction. That young puss…’ ‘Eeeekkk!’ ‘It got to be free to the air.’ His hand is there and Sharon can’t move it. Mr Balcher’s deductive powers are immediately working overtime.

‘You jus’ got they knickers out o’ that chest.’ The familiar cackle. ‘Cor! You’re gonna be for it!’

‘Let me go.’ Vainly attempting to struggle away Sharon breathlessly recounts the situation, the need for the knickers. ‘Please let me go. And don’t tell…’

‘Orlright then.’ Mr Balcher’s eyes are gleaming, while his hands of course do not let up. ‘Orlright. On’y we got to ‘ave another visit, eh? Another nice cuppa.’

Sharon gasps ‘Yes!’ What else can she say? Sharon says yes but Mr Balcher is not in a hurry to catch out his side of the bargain. Not in a hurry to let her go, although he repeats several times ‘OK then.’ But a couple of seconds won’t make any difference and he would just like to grab her knickers down for a couple of seconds. All these seconds add up. Time is passing. And the inevitable happens. Yes. Mr Pearling.

Oh Christ! Mr Balcher at once smartly backs off. ‘Jus’ checkin’ in ‘ere, Mr Pearling.’ A wary grin as he retreats. Sidles out of the door. Sharon is shaking. From Mr Balcher and even more from Mr Pearling. Who evidently is possessed of telepathic powers. Or perhaps he can just put two and two together. As he steps forward and lifts Sharon’s skirt. The knickers are there: in place, remarkably after Mr Balcher’s onslaughts.

Sharon begins to stammer out her tale. The same as that Mr Balcher has heard. Only now there is considerably more desperation in her voice. There is no way out of something really awful now.

No. There is not. Mr Pearling’s icy voice. ‘Take them off, Sharon. Yes you can wear knickers into town but we’ll have those off now. Perhaps we’ll chose another pair, eh? But first of all, for not coming to me… I think the birch.’

The birch can be just about the worst of anything. After it’s been soaking nicely in that salty water. Those stingy wet twigs which can get in everywhere. Especially if he makes you take it with your legs wide apart. Bending over the horse with your feet spread wide. And he will, the way Mr Pearling is looking: an icy cold anger because of what she has done. Oh Jesus. And it’s that Balcher again. If he hadn’t kept on she would have been out of here ten minutes ago.

Feeling really sick Sharon has got the knickers off. Handing them to Mr Pearling. He slides his free hand up the back of her skirt. Sharon yelps as finger and thumb deliver a hard pinch to her bare bottom. ‘But in fact, Miss…’

Oh. Mr Pearling isn’t going to birch her now. He has decided he hasn’t time, not to do it properly. ‘And we want it done properly, eh Miss?’ It will be this evening. ‘So you’ll have the remainder of the day to look forward to it.’

Yes. It is a big relief not to have it now but the thought will be hanging over her, filling her mind for the rest of the day. ‘Eight o’clock,’ Mr Pearling says. But right now he has got a couple of minutes to spare and before Sharon puts on this other pair of knickers that he’s fished out of the drawer, Mr Pearling is going to give her a spanking. ‘Get over the chest.’

A spanking is not as bad as the birch of course. Or the cane. But Mr Pearling can nonetheless really slam his hand in, put all his weight behind it and he is a heavy man. It can really knock the breath out of you, and leave your bottom stingingly red hot.

----//----

Sharon’s bottom is still stinging with her head full of 8 o’clock and the birch as she walks towards the bus stop. Outside the gates there is a giddy thought of getting on the bus and not coming back — except that you would be caught and taken back and the thought of what you’d get for that makes even this evening’s birching pale into insignificance. But before she gets to the bus stop a car…

It is Mr Balcher’s old banger. And of course Mr Balcher grinning as he opens the door. He has got an errand to do himself. ‘‘Op in.’

Sharon looks extremely doubtful. ‘Come on. I tol’ Mrs Billings I ‘ud give you a lift.’

Presumably that is true? But even so, you know what Mr Balcher is like. And yes, he is not heading into town but out into the country. ‘Hey! You said…’

‘We got lots o’time.’ His hand squeezing Sharon’s thigh. ‘We’ll ‘ave a little drive aroun’.’

Sharon yelps at him to turn round but Mr Balcher is heading out, to some woods. ‘We can ‘ave our little chat,’ he tells her. Grinning. ‘An’ I want to take the knickers down.’

That is not all Mr Balcher wants. No, it wouldn’t be. He wants to get out of the car and go into the wood. As it’s such a nice day. He also wants ‘a bit o’ fun’ which interpreted means he wants to smack Sharon’s bare bum. And surely she would rather they did that out in the wood a bit rather than where he is parked on the edge of the lane where someone could come by and see. Yes, Mr Balcher has always got very persuasive arguments.

Sharon’s desperate pleas that she has to get those things for Mrs Billings and get back fall, as frequently in the case when you are talking to Mr Balcher, on deaf ears. He is impervious to the pleas because as always it is not Mr Balcher but Sharon who will be in the firing line. There is already that birching at 8 o’clock. There will be something else as well if she is not back.

Mr Balcher’s ‘bit o’ fun’ — the spanking — is not all he wants. Or rather there is more fun, fun of a different type: the fun which he enjoyed before in his room. The fun that had Sharon frantically counting in her calendar, and Mr Balcher adding a carefully pencilled asterisk to his list of names. And Mr Balcher is adamant. He is not going to be denied. Not now he has the delectable Sharon out here some little distance from the car with his car rug so that the delectable girl will not get any unsightly grass or litter stains on her person or clothing — how thoughtful! — and she has her knickers off now and really as far as he is concerned is all set to go. Girls like to say no but really as anyone knows they are in fact desperately keen…

Yes. Yes. Some yelps and squeals but yes, Sharon will be frantically counting again when she gets back. Well perhaps it will take her mind off that birch which is waiting for her in the jug of salty water in Mr Pearling’s room. Or the birch may take her mind off the counting. And there will be another birching in store if she is not back soon…

Struggling to her feet and grabbing for her knickers. Mr Balcher has finished, has achieved full and complete satisfaction as expressed by a number of deep groaning grunts.

‘Come on then!’ Her voice is shaky, her body shivery. ‘Come on.’ Mr Balcher, still on the rug, gives a quizzical look. Grunts again. Right now, at this moment, he is in no mood for rapid action, of any sort. What he could do with is a nice little nap.