SUMMONED BY THE HEAD
Part four
Slowly, the pain was welling from deep within my flesh, rising to an indeterminate crescendo. How the hell could I cope with the next one without yelping? Oh, hell, I forgot to count...
'One, Sir!'
My voice came out strained and pained. And this after only one...
BANG!!!
AAAGH! I screamed inwardly, but managed to keep it non-vocal. I managed, too, to remain bent over, but I knew I would have to tighten my grip on my ankles if I was to survive the next one without flinching. My young buttocks felt as though they were on fire, and I waited to see if the pain might abate a bit. No such luck, it just got worse and worse. I fought for breath: might as well get on with it...
'T.. T...' I tried, but it wouldn't come out. I drew air into my lungs as best I could, the agony increasing as each second passed... 'Two, Sir!'
WHACK!
I felt as though all of my young blood was rushing to my face as I took that one. I screwed my eyes tight, closed my lips fast, air expelling from them in a raspberry sound. But I kept it in. Jeez, that was close. Come on, Danny: deep breath, get it over with...
'Three, Sir!'
The response was instant. Humphries must have been standing, paddle poised and ready... THWACK!!!
It knocked the wind out of me. Just as well, I couldn't have stopped myself yelping had it not. I had a tightness in my stomach as though punched in the solar plexus until, at last, cool air entered my lungs. I had to say it. Had to get through the second half.
'F-f-f-four... S-sir...'
CRASH!
The blow took me to a threshold of agony such as I had never dared imagine...
'Yaaaaaaaoooooow!' I screamed. 'AAAAAAAAAH!' I added. The tears burst forth, and I sobbed profusely. My hands nearly slipped from my ankles but by some miracle I managed to stay down.
'Yelping, boy!' pronounced the Head. 'You will receive an extra swat.' His voice was cool, commanding. I fought to keep my tears under control; they were flowing back into my eyes and stinging, though that was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to what was going on at my rear end.
I felt a sudden surge of panic... Should I count that one? Terrified of putting a foot wrong, lest it should earn me yet another swat, I waited. Nothing.
'F-f-five... S-s-sir?' I inquired through my sobs.
BANG! came the reply. But it made little difference. By now my youthful buttocks were a quivering mass of agony and I simply continued to whimper as I prepared myself for the last, extra, swat which my yowls had earned me.
'Six... Sir,' I cried pathetically.
'Hands on head; nose, knees and toes against the wall,' I was ordered.
A little confused, I placed my hands on my head and stood up. For a moment, I was not at all sure if I could walk, even the couple of feet to the wall where Hopkins stood, sniffling sorrowfully. I made it, though, and jammed myself against the brickwork as instructed. Only then did I realise the extent to which this was all part of the punishment. My little backside felt as though someone was holding a hot iron to it and I wanted so, so much to rub it better, for the little soothing that that would bring. But, of course, in my current posture even that comfort was denied me. Nor could I wipe the humiliating tears from my face or even blow my nose, which I needed to do after all that crying.
I realised, too, that there was no way Humphries would have forgotten about that extra swat. He was just making me wait. The man was no fool; had he delivered it me there and then, it would simply have blended into the melee of misery which my ordeal had become. I would have been able to complete my sentence against the wall knowing that it was all over. Now I had to wait for what would probably be the most agonising blow of all.
And, oh, hearing Matty getting his paddling hurt me almost as much as feeling my own. The brave little man took the first three - delivered, it seemed, with even more ferocity than my six - without a whimper, counting each swat in a steady, confident voice. I could picture his courageous little face as he did so, perhaps grimacing a bit as he took each swat, eyelids flickering as he fought to hold back tell-tale tears. On the fourth count, the strain was starting to tell in his voice. After the fifth resounding pistol-crack of wood on flesh there was a pause for some ten seconds. I willed him on... Just say it, Matty, the longer you leave it, the harder it gets...
'Five... Sir!' he sobbed, though the courage still shone through in his voice.
Come on, Matty, kid, you can make it.
TWACK!
'AAAAAHGH!!!' came the scream.
'Yelping AND flinching! You will receive a further two swats. Hands on head; nose, knees and toes, boy!'
I heard Matty square up to the wall at my side, sobbing quietly. How I wished I could put an arm around his shoulder in comfort! Still, I thought, we're nearly through now.
How wrong I was!