by Susan Thomas
Alison Arrives Home
"He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes." Proverbs 13 verse 24 AV
When Alison arrived home she could see her daddy was already home. She sighed. It was inevitable of course, for in this small town the inspector in charge of the police station heard about everything. The fact that his daughter had told off the headmistress of the large secondary school and used some 'inappropriate' language in doing so would almost certainly have been too choice a titbit not to have reached him. She entered the house sighing again and expecting to be called into his study.
"Alison, I'd like a word with you. I'm in the study."
She sighed a third time, straightened her back to match her father's ramrod posture and, calling, "OK, Daddy," went to the surprisingly large study.
"What's this I hear about you?"
"I don't know, Daddy. What have you heard?"
"Don't get pert with me, young lady."
Alison went pale. The use of 'young lady' was very bad. It was rarely used, and when it was showed that her father was seriously annoyed. "Sorry, Daddy. I suppose you're talking about me having a go at Miss Ford."
"You suppose right, Alison. What possessed you? She is the headmistress, for heaven's sake."
"Daddy, she is an out and out bully. She bullies the teachers even, but today she was going in hard on two helpless, timid Year 7 girls. I tried to divert her attention but she wouldn't leave her prey alone and I... well I..."
"You lost your temper and were extremely rude to her. I do hope the two Year 7 girls weren't present."
"No, Daddy, she sent them away in order to deal with me, so it sort of worked."
"This is a serious matter, Alison. I do know the woman is a bully and an exceedingly unpleasant one at that. I have been in enough meetings with her to know that but it is not your place to upbraid her, even if it was that her language and tone were not the right ones. By losing your temper, however good the cause, you lose the moral high ground. You are now a subject for delicious gossip all around town. It simply isn't good enough, Alison. I regret this, but I shall have to punish you."
Alison sighed again, and the thought flitted through her head that she was doing rather a lot of sighing this afternoon. "Aren't I..." her tone was pleasant and conveyed the impression of being a tiny bit amused, "just a bit old for that sort of thing?"
Her father's tone was calm, relaxed and in turn just a tiny bit amused. After all, he had first heard that when she was ten years old and other dads told him of similar remarks while they played golf. "What I think is that you are too old to be losing your temper like that, Alison. This has been a long-standing problem of yours when confronted by what you see as being an injustice. I admit that the world around us is hardly filled with good examples but, as the government minister discovered recently, you cannot lose your temper without unwelcome consequences. No, I am afraid you must be punished. You have improved, and perhaps this punishment will finally help you to understand the need for an appropriate response."
Alison tried to repress the sigh but it would just come out. She could see that her punishment was now pretty well inevitable but she gave it one last try. "Daddy, Miss Ford will certainly guess what's happened even if you don't tell her. It will be extremely humiliating."
"Darling, humiliation is an inevitable accompaniment to punishment. Even getting a parking ticket is humiliating, which is one reason why people get so cross when they get one, even though they know they are completely in the wrong. I am sure Miss Ford will already know exactly what is happening to you as she knows me well enough. You should look on that as a good thing as it will save you from some unpleasant disciplinary action at school."
Alison didn't sigh. The thought that of course Miss Ford could take action against her had simply not crossed her mind. With that, she resigned herself to what was coming, and kicked off her shoes before undoing the clasp on her skirt and unzipping it. She held it for a minute before stepping out of it because it had been quite some time since her last one and it was embarrassing undressing, even if he was her dad.
"Please, Daddy, do I have to do corner time as well?"
Her father hesitated for a moment. He had intended to have her stand in the corner but she wasn't arguing and as a concession to her age he thought maybe this time he could let it go. "Very well, Alison, just this once, but you must get a grip on your sense of injustice."
"Thank you, Daddy." With that Alison stepped out of her skirt and placed it on a chair before walking to the desk. Pulling her knickers down had been something she found hard to do right from an early age but now it seemed worse than ever. She sighed yet again. There was no point in delaying so, taking a deep breath, she pulled them right down to around the knees. The next part was in her thinking the very worse bit. She had to stretch out over the desk and hold to the far side; there was something in that whole position that spelt out loss of self. She waited for the strapping to start.
Strapping was the word they used, though in truth it was a belt that was used. It wasn't one of those modern feeble belts made in some Far-Eastern sweat shop but a good old fashioned manly belt made in England. Her father doubled the belt so the buckle was in his hand and when he whacked it across her bottom it created a huge sting and a red mark. He kept on doing it until her whole bottom was red and sore. It was a highly effective punishment and not in the least enjoyable!
Her father looked, seeing her beautiful young bottom with its flawless skin, and marvelled at her youth. He loved her deeply but he was going to make her remember this folly if it was the last thing he did. He drew back his arm and let the first one fly.
The crack of the belt across her bottom seemed to fill the room, and Alison felt the first fiery line. A small cry of pain was wrung from her, and she took a firmer grip of the desk. The next second it connected again with huge force, immediately followed by the hottest, most intense stinging she had ever felt. She could not help the huge, horrified gasp of pain and surprise. The burning simply did not ease at all and then the third whack landed. Alison suppressed a shriek but felt the tears begin. Whatever the age, tears come and dignity vanishes under a sound strapping.
Her daddy was laying them on at a fast pace: crack, crack, crack. The force alone was making her mind reel but the escalation of the heat in her bottom brought a constant set of "Aaaaaaaaaaah!" sounds from her. Her bottom moved sideways to escape the relentless belt and her father paused.
"Alison, please move back into position and keep still."
Although she could barely see for tears and her nose was running, the pause helped her to deal with the heat a bit. She snuffled out a, "Sorry, Daddy," and moved back.
Although he had not announced it, he intended to give her twenty five. It was part of the punishment that she had no idea when it would end. It might be twelve, it might be many more, but she just had to stay in position and take it all. By his count there were twelve strokes left, and he realised he had been going rather fast at it. He began to pause between each one to allow her to deal with it. Nevertheless, each whack brought an increasingly piteous cry from her.
At the twentieth stroke she began to babble as if somehow it would help the stinging heat of her bottom.
Crack! "Why do I do these things? Why? Aaaaah."
Crack! "I wish I hadn't... ooh."
Crack! "Heck it hurts, Daddy. Daddy, it really does."
Crack! "Please I'm sorry... no more please."
"Alison, you have only two strokes left. I decided to give you twenty five but you've already taken twenty three."
Alison reflected that the old cliché about the bottom being 'on fire' is actually a pretty accurate description. She tensed, waiting for the next, and again the force of it alone was punishing.
"Aaaaah."
This time she did shriek but managed to keep in position for the last stroke. When it had landed she stood shakily, her hands cramped from gripping the desk so tightly. Her nose was running and her eyes wet with tears but her daddy was there with tissues while her bottom stung ferociously and burned unbelievably. There were some particularly nasty stinging bits where the belt had caught her lower down just at the top of the thigh, below her bottom cheeks. She slowly pulled her knickers up, easing them over the fiery bottom, and then put her skirt back on. He gave her a hug and she hugged back. Punishments had never interfered with their loving relationship.
"Now before you do anything else, you need to write a letter of apology to Miss Ford."
"But she..."
"Was bullying two girls I know, and that is wrong. I can see I will have to have a word with the Chairman of Governors about her, but you are a newly qualified teacher in your first term of teaching, and it isn't your place to start swearing at her and telling her off. There are better ways, Alison. For a start, talk to your union rep and your mentor."
"OK, Dad, letter first then my marking, and I have to prepare for tomorrow too, lots to do. Thanks for skipping corner time."
With a sigh, Alison made her way out of the study and off towards her bedroom. She rubbed her bottom very gently all the way up the stairs.
Alison's Bad Day
"Just because you're having a bad day doesn't mean you're having a bad life." Unknown Author.
Alison was in bed with her iPod playing and reading a book on her Kindle, trying hard to relax. Her bottom still burned with little throbbing points from the belting that daddy had given her earlier. From time to time, she reached a hand under the covers and touched some of the really sore points. She felt it was probably the hardest he had ever given her, though she sort of agreed she was in the wrong.
From the start it had been a bad day. She had realised that her boyfriend, who she had met three years ago at college but who was now working a long way away, was not going to last; the separation was too much for either of them. Then she had realised she hated the school she was working in, even though she had been there less than a term. The head was a bully and it created a bad ethos that worked its way right through the school. The problem was, she really couldn't leave unless she left teaching, as she was still only newly-qualified, besides which, teachers were being made redundant right and left with all the cut-backs. Her other choice of career had been with the police but they too were shedding officers everywhere. So, all in all, she hadn't started the day in a positive mood.
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