An Inventive Touch

Story from Blushes 8

‘Can’t have it girl — can’t have our netball team losing to St Aubrey’s!’

‘N-no, sir,’ Sally’s fingers twiddle nervously together behind her back. She looks down at the floor feeling the flush of embarrassment rising to her cheeks whilst the lecture continues. She can feel the stickiness still on her body, not having been allowed time enough even for a shower before being summoned to the gym to be given one of the sports master’s ‘de-briefings’. Not that she’s wearing any — briefs, that is. Knickers aren’t permitted to be worn under shorts. The backs of her fidgety hands rest on the outswell of her bottom behind her back and she can feel the warmth of her body against her knuckles.

‘Not good enough — I won’t have my team losing to that rabble from St Aubrey’s — d’you understand?’

‘Yes sir,’ she’s seen the cane dangling by its crook handle from the cleat that you wind the rope around that raises and lowers the beam. She knows she’s going to get it — again. Her bum feels big and over-obvious, almost so’s you’d think its self-consciousness would actually be visible to anyone who cared to look.

The sound of the door opening behind her and ponderous footsteps on the floorboards announce the arrival of one who would care to look at a girl’s bum when he knows she’s about to be told to get her shorts down and about to get that bottom caned.

‘I’m telling the girl that we can’t have it, Mr Tomkin. Can’t have our people losing to St Aubrey’s.’

‘No, indeed!’ say’s Sally’s housemaster, who has to be in on this little conspiracy to bend the school rules since only he and the other housemasters have the authority to take a girl’s knickers down for any kind of chastisement at all, and only he can use a cane on a bottom thus legitimately bared for punishment. He won’t actually be caning the girl, but that cane hanging from the cleat is his and he’ll be there, so it’s a sort of bending of the rules rather than a breaking.

‘She needs something to wake her ideas up, Mr Tomkin.’

‘Yes, indeed!’ No-one uses the word ‘indeed’ more often than Mr Tomkin. Sally gulps, because Mr Tomkin’s use of the word ‘indeed’ tends to take on a certain tone when he’s about to tell you to take your knickers down, and that tone is there right now.

‘Better have her pants down, Mr Ross, that’s what I think. Yes, indeed I do!’

‘I think I agree,’ says Mr Ross, and Mr Tomkin relays this joint decision — foregone conclusion though it is — to the girl in his usual gently-worded way.

‘Get ‘em down, girl!’ He says it with the same malevolent glitter in his piggy eyes that is always there when knickers are coming down. ‘Oh yes — get ‘em down in-deed!’ He has different ways of saying his favourite word. ‘In-deed’ means he’s going to enjoy this, but then, he always does.

Sally, who has ‘taken ‘em down’ for Mr Tomkin on other occasions, slips her shorts down even before ‘in-deed’ has echoed around the gym, because Mr Tomkin doesn’t like a girl to ‘fiddle-faddle around’ when he’s about to enjoy something. She pushes them down far enough at the front for her mid-blonde pubic curls to be plainly ‘on view’, because Mr Tomkin doesn’t much go for maidenly modesty in girls either.

‘Will you cane her, Mr Tomkin?’ asked for the sake of appearances.

‘I think it would be more appropriate in this case if you were to cane her, Mr Ross.’

‘Well, if you think so, Mr Tomkins.’

‘Yes in-deed, Mr Ross.’ In-deed, because this new game of caning the bottoms of the school teams’ captains has added a new dimension to Mr Tomkin’s enjoyment of such punishments.

Now that Sally’s shorts are down, Mr Tomkins positions himself in such a way that by having the girl reach forward over his shoulders he can hold her wrists and, with a backward nudge of his hips, he can have her comfortably hoisted up onto his back with her feet off the floor and her hands kept well away from her bottom so that she can’t interfere with her caning. There are certain other advantages too — yes in-deed!

Because now, as Mr Ross goes to fetch the cane, the breathless panting that a girl will sometimes evidence once her pants are down and she’s about to get it, is right there in Mr Tomkin’s ear, since her head is necessarily right beside his own.

And now, as Mr Ross begins to wield the cane, every tiny and otherwise unheard issuance of Sally’s anguished little pleas, whispered under her breath and every whimper and stifled sob as the cane whips across her bottom, is there to be enjoyed without the slightest degree of attenuation. Little ‘please’ words, little blasphemous gasps — ‘Oh, Christ!’ ‘Oh, Lord!’ — little whimpered vulgarities that a girl of her upbringing simply shouldn’t know — all are sobbed right into his ear.

And as the cane’s repeated arrival across Sally’s animated bottom continues to stimulate her wrigglings and struggles, the other advantage of his novel way of doing things becomes more evident. Because with the whole weight of her young body on his back, and her hips pressed against him as they are, and in a most intimate way, there isn’t a shiver or a wiggle or a tremor that doesn’t automatically communicate itself directly to Mr Tomkin’s own person. And that is in-deed a new and not to be missed experience for Mr Tomkin. Yes, in-deed.