by LSF Publications
by Tara Black
Kathleen and Andrew had been a couple for a little over six months and to the eyes of many who knew them it was a happy, even ideal relationship. He had landed a job in an go-ahead IT firm while she was a probationary PE teacher at the Watt Academy. The Fife secondary school served a string of coastal villages in one of which they occupied a small terrace house. For two people in their early twenties it was a success story.
And yet ... it wasn't so much a positive dissatisfaction, more a growing sense of predictability. Week in, week out, the social round of dinners among a smallish group of friends with occasional cultural events thrown in, the same arguments to and fro with the same minds running on familiar tracks. It wasn't exactly boring, but definitely not what Kathleen was moved to describe as exciting. Nor was her bed quite the place it used to be, though what they did there was fine and she was sure for many folk would be a step up from what they had settled for.
And then, just a few weeks before, she had become aware that a long-term unease with one particular subject area was turning into something more. It wasn't something that came up often because there wasn't a lot of it about - vanishingly little, in fact. From something once widespread through society, at home and school, in reformatories and prisons, corporal punishment had more or less disappeared.
So Kathleen was rarely embarrassed by any discussion of the topic amongst the liberal circles she moved in: opposition to its use was a foregone conclusion. No, the discomfort came from within herself, a tendency to discover herself at idle moments with a scene of traditional discipline beginning to play itself out in her mind. She was a fly on the wall as the errant prefect quaked while her headmistress selected a cane from a fearsome rack of such instruments.
The drama never made it beyond its initial stages for she caught herself in the act and shook such fancies out of her head. All well and good until they took a twist: now in her mind's eye she was the culprit awaiting the consequences of her misdeeds. And retribution was to come through a different instrument: the tawse, long-banished in actuality from Scottish schools.
Things reached a head one night when at four in the morning Kathleen came out of a dream. Or perhaps she still half-dreamed, for the images of the leather instrument were so vivid. They weren't of the thing being raised to strike her hand; that notion merely repelled her. No, she was in thrall to the picture of it coming down with a juicy slap across her bottom. What would that feel like? The thought brought her out in shivers and she pulled up the covers to snuggle closer into the warmth of the sleeping figure at her side. Still the idea haunted her until after a while the pictures fragmented, disintegrating into incoherence and she slid thankfully back into sleep.
Then in the morning she woke with a plan formed in her mind. At least the rudiments of one.
"Mr. Gordon, how long ago is it that the belt was actually banned?" She was trying hard to sound casual though her heart was all a-flutter.
"I'd like to say it was before my time, Kathleen, but that wouldn't be the whole truth. Though you are going back a bit." The senior science teacher twinkled at her. He was rather sweet on the young mistress, a fact she was hoping, a little shame-facedly to exploit.
"I see. So no chance of finding the odd one still around? Like in the back of a cupboard?"
"I doubt it, lassie. And may I ask why the sudden interest?"
"A friend of mine is doing some historical research. She wanted to see one if she could." Kathleen had anticipated the question but still the lie didn't trip easily off the tongue.
"A friend, eh? And she wants to get hold of the real thing? Well, why doesn't she try the original maker. It's only just down the road."
"Down the road?"
"Aye. In Lochgelly. He supplied all the schools. Right enough, the firm's not in business any more but the old man - what was his name? - is still there I believe. He might welcome a commission. Now you just hold on there a minute while I see what I can find." He disappeared into the storeroom at the back of the lab and there were sounds of drawers being opened and closed. Then he returned with a single sheet of yellowing paper. Underneath the manufacturer's name and address were illustrations of two of the range produced.
"There you go, my dear. If your friend's a researcher she should be able to track down what she wants from that. But tell her from me to be careful. A Lochgelly in the wrong hands can be a painful business." He winked at her and chuckled.
God, had he seen through the cover story, maybe even discerned her real interest? No, no, she told herself firmly. That was being too paranoid altogether. But it was still a slightly unnerved PE Teacher who beat a retreat out of the lab.
She located the premises at the far side of the small town and parked the car. Round the side was a faded green door which she opened as instructed and stepped inside.
"Hallo. Anyone there?" At the sound of her voice a woman came out of the office cubicle tucked away in a corner.
"Ah. You must be Kathleen. Come in, do." With steel-grey hair she was difficult to age. Past fifty, possibly rather more, but not at all forbidding with it. Instead there was a welcoming smile that made the visitor feel much less nervous.
"Mrs. Carstairs?"
"Indeed. And I used to be the secretary of this company that in its heyday was famous throughout the Scottish education system. Or should that perhaps be notorious." She rolled the word off her tongue with eyebrows arched and Kathleen laughed.
"Now you'll be wanting to inspect the goods so I've put a couple of samples over here." She went to the large work bench that filled one side of the room and took up a flimsy-looking item with a moue of distaste. "There was never a lot of demand for this junior one and I imagine we can leave it aside. From what you said on the phone your interest will be in the proper article."
What she handed over was decidedly more impressive and Kathleen's pulse quickened. It was over a foot long, shaped into a handle at one end and cut into two tails at the other. The surface was slightly greasy to the touch and she flexed it into an arc between her two hands, caught by the feel of the thing. Thick yet supple, it carried the weight to wrap itself round a suitable target. Like the one she had imagined. And inflict a mean bite...
Suddenly aware that the woman was speaking, she looked up with a weak grin. "Sorry, what was that? I was away with the fairies."
"It does hold a fascination, I feel it myself. Now I'm too nosey for my own good but I can't help wondering what you might be planning to do with one of ours. After all, it won't be employed in your capacity as a teacher."
"Oh no. Not these days." She tried a smile to hide her awkwardness. "It's for a present. Christmas coming and all that." In the pause it was plain that Mrs. Carstairs was expecting more and something about this solid woman with the sympathetic air prompted Kathleen to have a shot at the truth. "It's for my partner in fact. Boyfriend, you know."
"So you want your young man to use one of these. On you." It was a shock to have it out in the open, but the calm statement of fact gave her courage to go on.
"Well, um, not on the hand..." There was a longer pause and Kathleen felt the eyes scrutinising her flushed face, though when she managed to meet their gaze there was nothing to indicate disapproval.
"I see." The former secretary said it slowly as if coming to a decision. "It is not so unusual, my dear. A good friend of mine, sadly no longer with us, used to take such a fancy from time to time. For which she enlisted my aid. But here I am reminiscing when I should be attending to my customer. May I ask just one question, Kathleen? I get the feeling that this is new territory for you. Would that be right?"
She nodded, unable to trust herself to speak.
"Then I'm minded to attach a wee condition to the sale. Before I ask Mr. Dick if he'll make a strap for you, I feel it my duty to ensure you know what you might be getting into. At first hand."
Even in later reflection she wasn't sure how the line came to be crossed... how a visit to scout out the Lochgelly instrument turned into the occasion of her submitting to corporal punishment. Except it wasn't punishment as such, of course, because there was no offence. It would be a matter of consent. The consent that she was about to give.
Kathleen pursed her lips and looked the older woman straight in the eyes. "Very well, Mrs. Carstairs. Please do your duty. Now how do you want me?"
The echo of the d-word raised a small smile then the woman tapped on the surface of the workbench. She retrieved a cushion from the office and placed it on a clear space. "If you lie over here you'll be able to hang on to the far edge for support. But first we'll need the trousers out of the way."
Quickly Kathleen undid the fastening and peeled the snug black garment down to her knees. Then she bent forward and let the surface take her weight. Once she had hold of the opposite side the whole position was strangely secure, if not exactly comfortable. She wondered how Mrs. Carstairs' late friend had been placed when the fit was upon her and had to stifle an impulse to giggle.
"You've come this far, dear, and I'm tempted to ask you to go the extra mile and lose these too... in the interest of the full experience." Cool fingers inserted themselves into the elastic waist of her knickers and the young woman lifted her hips in silent assent. As the pants came down to be arranged around her thighs she felt a shiver of panic but seemed oddly beyond embarrassment. Almost as if she were in a clinical trial of the senior Lochgelly tawse that required the buttocks to be bared. It was just how this thing was done. There would (she was sure) soon be a red bottom, but there was nothing to cause a red face. Then the leather tails patted her bare flesh and the time for fancies was over.
"We'll try you with three to start. So be ready." Just seconds apart each stroke landed centre-cheek on top of the one before. Kathleen gasped out loud as the pain mounted. It was a raw sting yet those hits had hardly been forceful. But she kept still and in place.
"Good. Let's begin then. Six of my best."
They were harder and more spaced so that the hot pain of one had peaked before the next arrived. And they ranged from the cleft to the crease of the thighs so that she was left with her whole bottom smarting furiously. She held tight in an effort of will and it slowly eased. Kathleen breathed out and felt an exhilaration rising.
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