by Arthur James
The bell for the beginning of the first class of the morning had just moments before rung. The children all stood up as Miss Docherty walked into the classroom. Chairs scraped against the floor, desk lids squeaked as they were hurriedly shut. It was the last day of the summer term, but the children knew the rules would not be relaxed. It would just be like any other day.
"Good morning, Miss Docherty," they chorused.
"Good morning, children," she replied. "You may sit down."
It was like this every morning. Her eyes travelled along the rows of children, looking for absentees or those improperly dressed. She was a stickler for punctuality and correct school uniform. If there was one thing she couldn't abide it was untidiness. Like most young teachers it amused her to be stern. When called upon she could very stern indeed. She called out the register, the girls she called by their first names, the boys by their surnames. "Adsum," each child replied, some in a confident manner, some so quietly she had to strain her ears to hear. Once she had finished filling the register in her neat handwriting, she placed it carefully on her desk. Tidiness was almost an obsession with her.
"I need a volunteer to help me on Saturday morning," she announced. All the little girls immediately had their hands up, some of them almost bursting with eagerness. In contrast, most of the boys showed no enthusiasm for spending a Saturday morning at school. Along the back row she noticed not a single boy had raised his hand. She stood up from her chair and slowly walked down the central aisle of the classroom, desks in perfect rows on either side of her. The only sound that could be heard was the scrape of her sensible shoes against the bare wooden floorboards. She folded her arms and stopped in front of a desk in the back row.
Steven looked up, blushing under her steady gaze. She rarely had any problems with discipline. Occasionally, a child might answer her back but it would never happen twice. Having said that, she much preferred mischievous boys. Those who tried her patience she would make an example of and punish in front of the other children by putting them across her lap and smacking their bottoms. It wasn't a particularly harsh punishment, but it certainly put the boy concerned firmly in his place. There was a strong rumour that for more serious misdemeanours she kept a cane, although no one had actually ever seen it. Every now and then she would threaten a boy with six of the best and enjoy observing his face as it turned pale at the thought of such a punishment.
Maybe she wasn't the prettiest of women or the most charming but she was attractive in some indefinable way. In her early thirties, she looked younger, especially when she smiled. Her long straight blonde hair was always neat and always carefully brushed. The children in her class feared her, a few even thought they loved her. Steven loved her, he loved her unpredictability, how suddenly she would be amused by something but she was odd, nearly everyone said so.
"Are you busy tomorrow morning, Steven?" she enquired.
"Not really, Miss," he admitted.
"Excellent. I shall see you at nine o clock sharp then. Don't you dare be late!" she warned. As she turned she was smiling as if someone had amused her.
"Right, get out your Arithmetic books," she said. At the back of the class someone groaned.
"If I hear any more groaning..." she said. There was no need to finish the sentence.
Steven was her favourite. It was so obvious that the others would tease him about it. It was noticeable that she had never punished him despite the fact he had a reckless side to his nature. Even two weeks ago when she knew he had played truant, she had let him off with a stern warning, although she threatened to spank him hard if he ever did such a thing again. Afterwards, she felt guilty that she hadn't punished him as it wasn't really being fair to the other children. No, the next time he misbehaved she promised herself she would ensure that sitting down would be uncomfortable for him for at least the foreseeable future.
The trouble was there was something about his girlishly pretty face and shy manner that never failed to touch her heart. She was defenceless against him. Having favourites was against all her fine, high-minded principles. Anyway, on Saturday he could help her move all the books from the stock room to a room in the basement. If he felt it was a punishment for playing truant, so much the better. It would certainly take them two or three hours of steady work. She never minded giving up her own free time as she had few friends and practically no outside interests.
Steven was already waiting for her as she drove into the car park. The weather forecast on the radio had predicted record temperatures so she had forsaken her usual tartan skirt and grey cardigan for something that she thought would be more comfortable. However, her pale blue slacks were a little on the tight side. Either they had shrunk in the wash or she badly needed to go on a diet. Not that she was overweight, in fact she still looked good and often drew admiring glances when she did her shopping in the town. Her most admired feature was undoubtedly her bottom which was well rounded and rather prominent. Still, as she got out of the car she was wishing she had just worn what she usually wore to school.
"Right then, young man, let's make a start shall we!" She spoke in her usual brisk, no-nonsense manner. She couldn't resist affectionately rubbing his blond hair as she passed him. It was sad to think that next year he would be in somebody else's class rather than hers. The thought made her feel a sharp stab of jealousy. In some way she felt he belonged to her and it wasn't fair that next year someone else would have the pleasure of teaching him.
"Come on, quick march!" she said. How she enjoyed gently bullying him. They were going up the staircase that led to the stock room that had to be emptied. She couldn't help notice how beautiful he was as he walked in front of her. He was a slender waif, sure-footed and graceful. His blue shorts looked rather tight, almost as if they were glued to his behind as he nimbly climbed up the stairs. Yes, she certainly should have spanked him for playing truant; perhaps it wasn't too late even now she thought as she turned the key in the lock.
The stock room was stuffy and full of dust so the first thing she did was open the windows wide so as to let some air in. There were several windows in a row and she went along efficiently opening each one. When she turned, she saw the boy leaning out of the first window, breathing in the still cool morning air with his well-rounded behind that had tempted her up the stairs ideally placed for a smack. Before she quite knew what she was doing, she had retraced her steps and her hand had cracked down hard, not once, but twice across the well-stretched surface of his shorts. It didn't hurt, but it certainly stung. He didn't move as if he was quite happy for her to carry on smacking his behind. He had felt slightly disappointed that she hadn't spanked him for playing truant, although in some way he was relieved that he hadn't faced the humiliation of being chastised in front of the other children. When he turned his head slightly she still hadn't moved and was laughing.
"I am sorry, Steven, but that was too tempting to resist," she confessed. Reluctantly, he stood up, grinning back at her. She seemed a different person, somehow more relaxed than the severe young woman he was used to. He had never felt so drawn to anyone before as he was to her.
Although he hated being known as the teacher's pet, he was flattered because he knew she liked him more than any of the other children.
Soon he was carrying piles of books downstairs and stacking them tidily on the shelves of the new store cupboard. It was hard work as he wasn't particularly strong, and in any case Miss Docherty wouldn't let him carry more than a small pile of books at a time. For two hours or more they travelled up and down the stairs until there were no text books left and only a few chairs which didn't need to be moved. On the bottom shelf there were some rolled up maps which the young schoolmistress was just bending over to retrieve. If he had thought about it for even a second he wouldn't have done it. It was as if her buttocks were some strangely exotic variety of ripe fruit. Without thinking for a moment what he was doing, he smacked her hard across her nicely presented backside. It made a satisfying sound as the slap landed. Like the sound of a wave breaking across a rocky shore.
When she felt the sharp pain of the blow land across her behind, she could hardly believe it. That a pupil of hers had dared to do such a thing seemed beyond all possible understanding. She was still the same young woman who when she walked into a class room commanded instant silence. Talkers would stop talking, gigglers would stop giggling, fidgets would stop fidgeting, boys sitting on their desks would instantly slide off them and sit down properly with their backs straight. It was as if she caused all human life to freeze around her, yet a boy had actually dared to smack her bottom! It was surely just her imagination playing tricks on her or this was one of those weirdly peculiar dreams she occasionally experienced.
However, when she stood up she knew it wasn't a dream. A boy had indeed dared to smack her bottom and here he was with a terrified grin on his face, no doubt wishing he was somewhere else instead. Steven was unsure whether it was amusement or anger that caused a cruel smile to quiver momentarily on her lips.
"The other day I should have smacked your bottom for playing truant. I think now is the time to put that right. Wouldn't you agree, young man, that you deserve a spanking?"
"I am sorry," he said.
"What for, playing truant or for daring to smack my bottom?" she replied. When she reached over and caught him by his skinny arm, it felt as if she possessed superhuman strength. She quickly led him over to one of the straight-backed wooden chairs. Already the sun was shining brightly and, despite the open windows, it seemed unbearably hot in the small dusty room. In all his ten years of life, Steven had never been spanked. Of course, like most boys he had received the odd slap or occasional cuff, but he had never had a proper smacked bottom. Often he had wondered what it was like, now he realised he was about to find out. His heart was beating so fast he thought it would explode through his thin cotton t-shirt. She sat down on the wooden chair, placed the boy over her knees and began to tan his backside.
It must be admitted that she smacked his behind with a severity she had rarely used before. Possibly she felt guilty that he was so obviously her favourite or perhaps it was merely the fact that his bottom made such a tempting target in a pair of shorts that so closely adhered to the contours of his behind.
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