I have not completely abandoned the silly writing. This one happened to a bit longer, so I decided to blog it as short instalments. The setting for this story is the strange and quite misogynous Royal Lentil School. The hero of the story is a certain Tom Banks, hope you will enjoy it.
Tom was walking across the quad. The air was still warm after a hot day, fragrant and soft. He hurried towards the Tower, the old building on the grounds where the Mushy Peas Club had their common room. The Club, as it was called, was ancient, and it was a privilege to be a member. It was The Privilege to be a member, and only a few were allowed in.
Tom was still panting as he came into the room. He was still amazed by its interior. The common room looked more like a chapel than an ordinary room. There were armchairs and a gigantic fireplace, Persian rugs and bookshelves. On the walls hung paintings of prominent members.
Tom didn't look at the paintings or the armchairs or rugs. He stared at the two other Club members in their striped jackets. Frederick and Mark where not friends of Tom's but they were member, senior members and had to be obeyed.
'It's your first time, isn't it?' Fred asked.
'Don't worry, it will be fine,' Mark said and smiled.
'It'll be fun. You'll like it,' Fred continued.
Tom just nodded.
He followed the two others to a smaller room close to the entrance. It was comfy, with a couple of armchairs, but not as imposing as the common room. A girl rose from a chair as they entered.
'Here she is,' Fred said, 'her name is Amanda, and she is here for just twelve.'
It was an age old arrangement that the Club helped out with the punishment of the pupils. It was Tom's first time and he stared at the girl with a combination of anxiety and fascination.
'Mr Saunders was not pleased with her being late,' Mark said, 'but as you know, he is a softy, only twelve for her.'
The girl stared back at Tom and he was moved by the gaze she gave him. She looked concerned, and a little frightened, but there was something else, as well, a shyness, and perhaps a hint of kindness when she looked at him. Tom felt worse for it. She was pretty.
'Get the tool now,' Fred said in a low but commanding voice.
Tom knew what it meant and got the cane from its peg on the wall. The girl stepped back as he turned to her.
All students were subjected to discipline but the kind that was meted out differed widely depending on what kind of person that was about to receive it. Older boys like Frederick and Mark, were exempt from most kinds except a verbal telling off. Tom, who was a little bit younger could still be submitted to detention, or writing lines. The cane was reserved for girls. And so was other kinds of corporal punishments.
'Amanda, prepare yourself,' Mark said.
She sighed as if she knew there was no turning back now. She appeared very small and vulnerable to Tom as she put her hands under her skirt and pulled her knickers down to her knees.
'You don't have to do this,' she whispered, her voice weak and trembling.
Tom felt cruel. He pitied her. She was pretty and frightened and he would rather have hugged her than used the cane on her.
'But we have to,' Fred said, 'and we enjoy doing it.'
The girl looked at Tom and he had to look down.
[To be continued, (it will be, trust me...)]