The first two weeks of the new term had gone as well as Rupert could have hoped. The boys' morale appeared to be exceptionally high. Rupert was only directly responsible for them, of course, when they weren't in lessons (apart from the individual classes which he took). But he knew well that there was nothing more likely to lead to problems, when coping with boys of their age, than idleness. He made it his aim, therefore, to fill every moment of their time with activity.
Football and rugby were played on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, which were half days. It was still only January and darkness descended early, so outside sports on other days were not a real possibility (although on fine afternoons Rupert encouraged boys to use the floodlit tennis courts). But there were other ways of occupying young boys. He started an extraordinarily popular model club which allowed them to make models of war 'planes and ships. For the more cerebral among them, he started a chess club. A form of indoor football was possible in the gym. There were several table tennis tables. There were board games such as Monopoly. Against all conventional wisdom, he stocked the library with Enid Blyton's Famous Five and Secret Seven books, as well as the more normal children's classics (he subscribed to the view that boys should be encouraged to read and if all they wanted to read was Enid Blyton that was fine by him). He set up a drama society which was due to put on a production of a wonderfully gory play written by Charles Rainham especially for the school and which had rehearsals every other evening. He started a debating society, which was to hold debates once a week. He told the boys that they could say whatever they wanted in those debates, so long as they did not use bad language. The first motion to be debated had been chosen by a rather earnest boy of eleven called Rochester. It had been "this house believes that boys do not need to be caned". The word "debate" was not really appropriate to the proceedings since Rochester was the only boy to speak in support of the motion. Like turkeys voting for Christmas, the boys had defeated the motion by 99 votes to 1.
With such frenetic activity, the boys had little time in which to become sad or depressed. Neither were there idle hands to perform the devil's work. Behaviour had been remarkably good. Rupert had not used his cane since the first day. He, and the other young masters, had, of course, had to slipper a few boys when their high spirits had got the better of them on occasion, but there had been no incident of serious misbehaviour at all.
The first and second form boys had blossomed under the new benign regime. True, Lucinda had noticed cane stripes on a couple of small bottoms one evening at bath time. But she knew that they would have been acquired in that part of the school day which was under the jurisdiction of Mr Rampton, rather than Rupert, and she fully accepted that Rupert was powerless to prevent masters from caning boys during lessons. No first or second year boy had yet suffered any form of corporal punishment outside lessons. So far, the imposition of lines and punishment runs had been deemed sufficient to deal with the minor transgressions of the younger boys. But Lucinda knew that that would change soon.
Thus did things stand at the time that we rejoin the school two weeks into term. But all was not entirely well.
You may remember that Rupert's brother Richard had been enrolled in the school. He had been desperately keen to leave his former prep school, Summerfields, and join his brother's new venture. He, just like Rupert, had recognised the risks involved in being the brother of his own headmaster. He knew that it was vitally important that no one should ever think he was being given preferential treatment because of his relationship to Rupert. So far, no one had suggested that he was. But a problem had arisen.
For several days Richard had noticed that a silence often descended when he entered a room in which his class mates were gathered. He was not normally paranoid, but he was beginning to become concerned about his friends' reluctance to tell him what they were talking about. It was Rochester, the boy with the unconventional views on discipline, who eventually told him what was going on.
At the beginning of the second week of term a boy in Richard's year, his name was Carter, had been caught red-handed by Rupert raiding the school kitchens to obtain supplies for a midnight feast. Rupert had thought it a border-line case. Carter was eleven. Had he been a year older, there would have been no question about the appropriate punishment. Rupert would have given him three with the cane. No one could suggest that that punishment would be unfair at the age of eleven. But Rupert did think that he could get away with six with a gym shoe instead, especially as the lad was only wearing pyjamas. Applying his policy of always giving the most lenient punishment possible, he opted for the gym shoe. The beating had, of course, been expertly administered and Carter had left Rupert's study with a very sore bottom indeed. But at least, he thought to himself, he had not had to discover how disagreeable a caning from Rupert would be.
So far, you will be quick to point out, there had been nothing particularly noteworthy about this incident. The purloining of scraps of food from school kitchens for midnight feasts was a wholly commonplace occurrence in boarding schools the length and breadth of the country. And the quick and forceful application of gym shoe or cane to the bottoms of boys caught doing it was no more nor less than anyone would expect. But there was one unusual factor in this particular case.
Rupert had caught Carter because of a tip off. In the normal course of things, Rupert would have had no reason to be wandering around the school kitchens at past 11 at night. But, when he had dropped into the staff bar (an institution he had set up in order to keep his young masters and under-matrons happy) after dinner that night, Katie had mentioned to him that she had overheard some boys in the fourth form dormitory whispering about a proposed midnight feast. She didn't know who they were and she didn't know when they intended to have their feast. But she said she was satisfied that there was no food in the dormitory that night, and so assumed the feast would take place on some future date.
"You don't know prep school boys like I do", Rupert had chuckled, "they are quite incapable of putting off mischief to a future date. Once they have set their minds on a midnight feast, they will set about arranging it immediately."
"But I don't see how they could do it", Katie had replied, "the tuck box room is locked for the night. They can't get hold of any food now."
Rupert had looked at his watch. "You are duty matron tonight aren't you?"
She agreed she was.
"And what time is your last patrol of the night?"
"I've just done it".
"Ok, put your drink down and come with me. I will show you how boys stock up for a midnight feast."
Rupert had taken Katie down to the kitchens. When they had got to the door he had held his finger to his lips, to tell her to be silent. Then he had quietly eased the door open. Just as he had expected, he had caught a glimpse of a torch beam at the far end. He felt for the light switch and turned it on. Sure enough, there was the figure of a slim 11 year old boy in pyjamas in the act of placing a cake in a bag.
It was, as they say, a fair cop. Rupert had told Katie to return to the bar with the promise that he would be along in a few minutes. Then he and Carter had walked together to his study. Five minutes later, with no food for his young friends, Carter had returned to his dormitory rubbing a red and stinging bottom.
At no time had Rupert explained to Carter why he had suddenly taken it on himself to visit the school kitchens. But, on the following day, after he had proudly shown off his bruised nether regions to his admiring chums, Carter began to speculate on the point. It dawned on him that Rupert must have known that a kitchen raid had been planned that night. The others agreed. But the plan had only been made in the dormitory about an hour before Carter had set off for the kitchen. So how could Rupert have known about it? That was when Stanton had come up with his theory.
"Someone obviously sneaked on you", he said, "so let's think back. Did anyone go to the bogs after we discussed it and before you went?"
Unfortunately for Richard, another boy remembered that Rupert's brother had announced his need for a "piss" a few minutes after the discussion had taken place. He had only been gone from the dormitory for three or four minutes. But that, it was agreed, was plenty of time to nip into his brother's study, report the plan and return to his bed.
To be fair to the fourth form, no one really wanted to believe that Richard was a sneak. At first, it had been generally agreed that the idea was unthinkable. But, the more they thought and talked about it, the more a few of them began to think that there could be no other explanation. All these conversations, of course, took place furtively in Richard's absence. But it was not long before he noticed that he was being excluded from something. Eventually, he had cornered Rochester and asked him straight out what it was that everyone talked about when he was not around.
Rochester had been reluctant to reveal what he knew but, after several persistent demands, he had finally caved in.
Richard had been absolutely horrified to learn that anyone could think him capable of sneaking. He was, through and through, the model of an English prep school boy. To such a boy there is no greater criminal than the sneak. Almost any other offence can be overlooked, or at least forgiven, but that one is akin, in the schoolboys' code of conduct, to the adults' laws against treason. His immediate instinct was to demand apologies from those who had apparently convicted him of the offence without so much as telling him of the charge laid against him. But, just as Rochester revealed all, the bell had rung for prep. Immediately after prep there was a rehearsal of the school play, in which he was playing a leading part. So the first opportunity to take on his accusers did not come until bed time.
It is as the fourth form dormitory was preparing for bed that we now can join Richard and his grave sense of injustice. He decided, having thought over all that Rochester had said to him, that the boy to be confronted was Linton. It was not easy, because Miranda, the duty matron for the evening, was constantly popping in and out of the room. But that did not deter Richard. Miranda was there when he and the other boys arrived. But she left to visit the fifth form dormitory after about ten minutes. The second she was out of the room, Richard approached Linton.
"Is it right that you've accused me of sneaking on Carter?", he barked.
Linton was taken aback by the directness of the question, but he was not a boy to be intimidated. Once the immediate shock of the question was over, he answered just as directly.
"Well no one else could have sneaked. Someone obviously did, and you were the only one who had the opportunity to visit your precious brother."
Richard seethed with anger.
"Linton I warn you to take that back or I will beat you up so badly you'll be half dead".
"You and who's army?", Linton sneered.
"Right, I challenge you to a fight half an hour after lights out".
"You'll regret it, I'll mash you like boiled spuds."
And so the stage was set. Although the conversation had been conducted in furious whispers and Miranda had now come back into the room, all twenty fourth form boys knew within seconds that there was to be a major fight later. And all were thrilled at the prospect. Pocket torches were extricated from their hiding places in readiness for the show and bets were being laid as to who would win.
I should mention that the time of half an hour after lights out had been chosen for good reason. The boys had quickly worked out that the duty matron nearly always visited the staff bar immediately after fifth form lights out (quarter of an hour after the fourth form). There was then a further three quarters of an hour before prefects' bed time. Almost invariably, the prefects used that time by amusing themselves in the games room downstairs. There was little or no risk of Rupert being around the dormitories during that time, because it was one of the very few occasions during the day when he could be alone with Lucinda. As for the other masters, and I am afraid boys all notice these things, they were all besotted by Katie and Miranda and would never have dreamt of leaving their competitors alone with the girls in the bar. So, a fight started half an hour after fourth form lights out ought, all things being equal, to be over and done with safely before any one in a position of authority might come on the scene.
Miranda was surprised, when she came in to say goodnight and turn the lights off, to find all twenty boys already in bed. Their usual practice was to play for time and only finally get into bed when threats of visits to the duty master were issued. There was also an atmosphere in the room of suppressed excitement which she found slightly worrying. But no one seemed to be doing anything wrong and, eager to have a rest from her duties, she shrugged off her suspicions, wished the boys goodnight and turned off the lights.
The dormitory was absolutely silent. Talking after lights out was a whacking offence and the boys all knew that Miranda would still be around, supervising the fifth form dormitory across the corridor. The minutes ticked by. Finally, they heard her saying goodnight to the fifth form and walking slowly in the direction of the stairs.
It was unfortunate for Richard and Linton, as things turned out, that Miranda bumped into Baxter on her way down to the bar. She still had a niggling doubt about the fourth form dormitory. Seeing Baxter, on his own way to the games room, she decided to warn him of possible trouble.
"Oh, Baxter", she called after him.
"Yes Ma'am", he turned to face her.
"It's probably nothing, but I've got a feeling that the fourth form boys might be plotting something tonight. I wonder if you'd mind popping up there in about twenty minutes, just to make sure everything's ok."
"Yes, of course Ma'am", he replied, "I've challenged Turnham to a game of table tennis. I'll go up as soon as I've finished it."
She thanked him and continued on her way to the bar.
Once the boys had judged that Miranda was safely downstairs, the fourth form dorm came to life, as it always did at that time. But now, there was only one topic of conversation: who was going to win the fight, and how rough would it be?
The two protagonists themselves remained surprisingly quiet as they mentally prepared themselves for the fray. Both knew that it was likely to be a close fight. They were about the same height and build. Both were first class sportsmen. Neither had an ounce of cowardice in his make up. I suppose that Richard, who was still consumed by anger, might be thought, as a result, to have a slight advantage. But then his anger could also be a hindrance. Linton was far calmer and might be expected to use rather more intelligence in his tactics.
The fight was scheduled to start at 8.30. The signal to begin would be the chiming of the half hour from the grandfather clock in the corridor. As that moment drew nearer a hush fell on the dormitory as all ears listened for the chime.
Bong. It was just one note, but it heralded a an immediate frenzy of activity. Within seconds, a dozen or more pocket torches had been switched on and eighteen boys were sitting on the ends of their beds, eager to watch what promised to be the fight of the term. Richard and Linton both jumped out of their beds and faced each other in the central aisle between the rows of beds. They eyed each other warily, each dancing from foot to foot in preparation for the first lunge.
Inevitably, fired by his continuing rage, it was Richard who charged forward, throwing his whole weight at his opponent. In moments, they were both on the floor wrestling furiously with each other. The advantage seemed to change from one to the other. First Richard was pinning Linton to the floor, then Linton had pushed him off and reversed the position. As far as the onlookers could tell, each was managing to land about the same number of punches as the other. Then, in a move which caused endless debate later, Linton somehow managed to grab Richard's pyjama cord and tug it violently. It came undone. Linton saw his advantage. He pulled again. Suddenly the cord came right out. Richard's pyjama bottoms were no longer supported. As the struggle continued, they fell lower and lower and became tangled round his ankles. Whether that would have been the decisive move in the fight cannot be said.
At that moment the light was switched on and Baxter stood in the doorway surveying the scene. So committed were the two boys to their battle, that it took them a moment or two to realise what had happened. They continued their struggle but then, as one, they grasped that the light was on. Slowly they disentangled themselves and stood to face the head boy. Richard quickly bent to pull up his pyjama bottoms and desperately tried to locate the cord. But, in the fight, it had been kicked under a bed and was nowhere to be seen. He held the pyjamas up with his hands and waited for sentence to be pronounced.
"Someone had better tell me what's going on here pretty quick", Baxter said as he gazed around the room. All were silent. "The whole lot of you are in enough trouble already. If I'm not given an explanation before I count to 5 that trouble will be doubled. One, two, three, four ..."
It was Barnaby who eventually spoke. He knew it wouldn't be sneaking to explain what the fight was about. It might even soften the heart of a prefect who would surely understand the importance of resolving such issues.
"Linton thought that Truman had sneaked on Carter the other night. So they had to have a fight you see."
Now, you or I might find the logic of that explanation a little hard to follow. But Baxter had no trouble with it at all. All became instantly clear to him. He could understand exactly the feelings of all the participants in the nights show. He would have been prepared to bet all his pocket money on the proposition that Richard was no sneak and recognised how desperately upsetting the accusation must have been. But he did not know the true facts of Carters apprehension and, like the fourth form, had guessed that there might be a sneak amongst them. He knew how appalling a sneak was and he entirely sympathised with Lintons eagerness to beat up anyone who might have been guilty of the offence. As for the spectators, well it had not been that long ago that he, too, would have been keen to watch such a titanic struggle. So it was not in any spirit of animosity that he gave his decision. It was simply something that he had to do.
"I see", he said, "well Im sorry lads, but Im going to have to get the duty master to deal with this. All stand by the ends of your beds and no one move an inch till I get back. I mean that, if anyone moves he will be in much bigger trouble".
All twenty boys walked to the ends of their beds and stood to attention. Baxter left to seek adult assistance.
Richard was desperate to recover his pyjama cord, but he knew that if he did, Baxter would be likely to spot the fact and he would be guilty of disobeying a prefects order as well as engaging in fighting after lights out. It just wasnt worth it. So he stood stock still holding his pyjama bottoms up.
Downstairs, Baxter knocked on the staff bar door and waited for a reply. Even prefects werent allowed in that room and he knew he had to wait for someone to come out. But he only had to wait a couple of minutes before Jonathan emerged. He was, as Baxter knew, the duty master and the head boy quickly explained the situation.
"OK Baxter", said Jonathan, "Ill just nip to the masters common room and get a slipper. Ill deal with the spectators, but it sounds to me as though you had better take the fighters to Mr Truman.".
Baxter had suspected that that would be Jonathans decision. He felt sorry for Richard and Linton, but he understood that they merited more severe punishment. He went back up to the dormitory to break the bad news.
On his return he was pleased to see that all the boys were exactly as he had left them. He explained that Mr Trench would be arriving in a moment to deal with most of them, but that Truman and Linton were to come with him to Mr Trumans study. Both boys grimaced at the news that they had been expecting, but dreading, and they joined Baxter on the walk to Ruperts study. When they got there, Baxter told his companions to wait while he explained the position to Rupert. He knocked on the door. As he expected, there was no reply. His instructions in those circumstances were clear. He was to enter the study and go out by the other door to find Rupert in his living quarters. He set off on his search.
Rupert and Lucinda had not yet sat down to dinner. They were in the drawing room having a drink. Rupert had explained to Baxter that, in the world of gentlemen, it was not done to knock on a drawing room door. He felt a little uncomfortable just barging in, but he had his orders. After a moments thought, he opened the door and walked in.
"Hello Baxter", Richard said as he looked up, "what can I do for you?".
"Sorry to interrupt Sir, but Mr Trench said I should bring two boys to you for fighting after lights out."
"Oh dear, who are they?"
"Im really sorry Sir, but one of them is your ...", Baxter remembered Ruperts firm rule that Richards relationship to him was never to be mentioned, "I mean Truman Sir and the other is Linton".
"Do you know why they were fighting?".
"Yes Sir, it seems that Linton accused Truman of sneaking on Carter when you caught him in the kitchens".
Rupert was young enough to be able to understand all from those few sentences.
"I hope you dont think Lintons charge might be true?"
"Oh no Sir", Baxter rushed to respond, "Truman couldnt be a sneak. But the trouble is that someone must have sneaked. Otherwise, why would you have gone down to the kitchens?"
Rupert immediately realised his foolishness in not telling Carter who had overheard the plot to raid the kitchens, but the mischief had been done. There was nothing he could do to put that right now. Wearily, he rose from his chair and joined his head boy for the walk back to his study. He was thinking furiously. He had every sympathy with his brother. He, he knew quite well, would have behaved in precisely the same way if anyone had ever accused him of sneaking when he had been at school. But he knew this was the big test. This was his opportunity to make it clear to the whole school, once and for all, that Richard would never be given preferential treatment. But it was with a heavy heart that he called the two miscreants into his study.
"Right you two, Baxter has explained the facts. I gather that you, Linton, accused Truman of telling me about Carters proposed raid on the kitchens. Is that right?".
"Yes Sir".
"Very well, for what it is worth, you might like to know that a member of staff overheard the conversation and very properly told me about it."
Rupert was pleased to see the look of consternation on Lintons face as he realised the gravity of his mistake.
"Whos idea was it to have a fight about this?"
Richard looked his brother full in the face. "It was mine Sir, and mine alone. It wasnt Lintons fault at all. He had no option."
Rupert had toyed with the idea of finding a way to let Linton off completely, but he knew that that would be wrong. The boy had, after all, willingly joined in the fight. He would expect to be punished and, though Rupert doubted that Richard would ever complain, there would be a risk that his young brother would feel a sense of injustice if he was the only one to be punished.
"Of course Linton had an option, didnt you Linton?"
Linton looked down at his bare feet. "Yes sir, I didnt have to fight, and anyway it was really my fault for blaming Truman for Carter getting done, I mean caught Sir".
"Well, Im not interested in that part of it. But I am not prepared to tolerate boys fighting like that. So you, Linton, will take a caning. As will you Truman".
Both boys mumbled "yes Sir" and Rupert walked slowly to the cupboard.
He took his time choosing a cane although, if the truth be told, none had any particular advantages over the others. Having selected one, he swished it through the air a couple of times and then returned to his victims.
"Linton, you first, step forward and bend over".
Linton did as he was told. He had been caned several times, but he suspected, quite rightly, that Rupert would be a master at the art. His stomach was churning and his heart beating fast as he took up the required position, gripping both ankles as tightly as he could.
Rupert looked at the small, slim bottom, covered only by the thinnest of pyjama trousers, took a deep breath and swung the cane hard across it. The noise seemed deafening. Even Baxter, who was, I am sorry to report, quite liking the idea of watching his headmaster in action again, winced as the stroke landed. Linton jerked forward an inch, but managed to stay upright. He felt a burning sensation across the middle of his bottom and, already, he was longing to jump up and rub it furiously. But he knew there would be more, how many he did not know, to come. He stayed in place and waited.
Richard was well aware of his brothers ability as a punisher. But he had never seen him wield a cane before. He was dreading his own punishment, but he still found it in him to be desperately sorry for Linton.
The second stroke was just as hard and, for some reason, twice as painful. Linton knew that he was being caned by the hardest man in the school. The agony was extreme, but he remained still and quiet. How many more? He asked himself.
But the third did not come. After a few seconds, the order came to stand. Linton let out the deepest sigh of relief of his young life as he stood and grabbed his throbbing bottom.
"Right, Truman, bend over".
Richard moved forward. His mind had been working furiously at the missing cord problem. He knew that he would be expected to grab his ankles, but he also knew that, if he did so, his pyjama trousers would obey the laws of gravity and drop neatly to the floor. He decided to use his left hand to hold them up and his right to hold his right ankle.
"Both hands on your ankles please", Rupert barked.
"But Sir, Ive lost the cord. My trousers wont stay up."
"I dont care about that. Both hands on your ankles."
Richard knew he had to obey. He released his left hand and instantly his bottom was bare. He hadnt wanted this, but he was not greatly concerned. His brother, of course, had walloped his bare bottom several times. And also, having been at Summerfields, he was actually quite used to bare bottom canings. Mr Jones, the housemaster of the junior house there, had always insisted on boys baring their bottoms when he had caned them. But his canings had not actually been that hard. Rupert, he was very well aware, would not be going easy on him.
And yet, Richard, even as he bent waiting for the first stroke, was hoping that his beating would be a hard one. I say at once that he dreaded the pain he knew he was going to suffer. But he also knew, just as Rupert did, that this was going to be an incredibly important few seconds. If Linton went back to the dormitory saying that Mr Truman had caned his brother just as hard as he himself had been caned, all those doubts would be dispelled. At last, everyone would know that Richard was just another one of the boys.
Very similar thoughts were going through Ruperts mind as he looked down on the familiar sight of his brothers small, unprotected bottom. Part of him was longing to be able to be lenient. But his brain told him that that would be a disaster. Richard could only benefit from a severe beating. And that, Rupert had determined, was exactly what he was going to get.
Rupert breathed in a few times. Richard waited in terror. Rupert tapped the cane twice on his brothers bottom. Richard knew that the worst was about to come. Then, closing his eyes for a second as he brought the cane back behind his shoulder, Rupert swung it forward with, if anything, more force than he had used on Linton. There was a loud crack as the cane bit into the eleven year olds flesh. Richard bit his lip as the pain seared through his buttocks. Baxter and Linton stared in something approaching horror as the thin, angry, red line appeared across Richards bottom. Rupert breathed in again. He drew the cane back again. He swung it forward again. The pain was worse. Richard hoped more than anything that it was over. But it wasnt. With less of a pause this time, because he was hating his job so much, Rupert swung again. A third bright red line appeared. Richard dug his finger nails deep into his ankles. Surely it must be over now. But no. Yet again Rupert swung the cane forward and, yet again, Richard longed to scream out in agony.
Linton was consumed with guilt as he watched his young friend suffer. How on earth, he was asking himself, could he ever have believed that this boy would be capable of sneaking? He prayed to every God he could imagine that the punishment was over. And his prayers were answered. Gently, incredibly gently, Rupert whispered to his brother that he could stand. Richard jumped up instantly. Both hands clutched the most painful bottom he had ever had. But, despite the pain, he actually managed a smile. Rupert had done for him what no amount of dormitory fighting could ever do. Never again would any boy dream of suggesting that he, Richard, was on the side of the headmaster and not his fellow boys.
Rupert walked back to the cupboard and replaced the cane. He knew it would have to be used often in the future, but he couldnt imagine that its use would ever cause him so much distress again. As he turned back to the boys, however, he caught a glint in his brothers eye. No words were necessary. He knew that Richard was grateful for the way he had handled it.
Baxter took Linton and Richard back to the dormitory. Jonathan, they realised, must have been held up. When they got back he was only about half way through his job. There were still ten boys waiting in a line for their slipperings. Linton and Richard were secretly both pleased that they would witness a few more wallopings. One by one, the remaining boys stepped forward, bent over and received their three hard whacks. One by one, they walked back to their beds clutching rather sore buttocks. But none, of course, was anywhere near as sore as those of the two main players in the nights performance.
When Baxter and Jonathan finally left the dormitory the whispering started again. Linton was the first to speak. He told them all of his dreadful mistake, of Richards attempts to save him from punishment and of how Richard had been given twice as many strokes as him. As the boys courage returned, they began to creep out of bed, with their torches, to examine the stripes of their heros. It was generally agreed that Richards brother was a caner unrivalled in ability. As for Richard, well he slipped off to the most blissful sleep he had had for days. Linton was not quite so happy, but he was determined that Richard Truman would become his best friend.
I am sorry to have to report that that very night the first form dormitory chose to have a grand pillow fight. It was not the right night to choose. When Miranda was given Jonathans report of what had been going on upstairs, she was consumed with guilt that, as duty matron, she had not been there to stop it all. She hurried back upstairs to have an extra patrol. Those foolish eight year old boys were in the midst of their adventure.
Miranda heard the nosie when she was half way up the stairs. She rushed into the junior dormitory and turned on the lights. Every one of the twenty boys was out of bed and wielding a pillow. This, she instantly knew, was to be her big test. Lines and punishment runs would be unthinkable. No, there were only two options. Either she had to spank them herself, or she had to call on Jonathan yet again. But, no, there wasnt a choice. She had failed once that evening. She wouldnt do so again. She glared at the boys and resolved to do her duty. Without a moments hesitation, she sat on the side of the bed nearest the door and told the boys to form an orderly queue. One by one they filed forward, dropped their pyjamas and lay across her knee. When she had finished, she had delivered one hundred and twenty sharp smacks to twenty small boys bottoms. Each boy had felt the sting of a good spanking. They had crept back into bed with equally rosy red and sore bottoms. All had considered themselves properly, and justly, punished. But I fear that Miranda might have been surprised at how many of them had felt a strange thrill as they felt the warmth of that pretty girls thighs against their bare flesh.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I was very sad to see the news of the demise of MMSA Stories site. I am aware of at least one excellent proposal to replace it, so let's hope all is not lost. As usual, emails are thoroughly welcome.