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#Post#: 16164--------------------------------------------------
1 December 2019 - It Happened One Christmas Chapter One
By: Jack Date: December 1, 2019, 6:55 am
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“All students are required to know and follow the Honor Code,
Mr. Stewart.”
“I didn’t steal it!”
“Then what happened?”
Bailey stood nervously in the principal’s office. It had a
stuffy feeling, both from the amount of furniture, and because
the lighting was rather dim, except right on the desk. Bailey
was pretty sure the room would make him nervous even if he
hadn’t been in trouble.
The main office was different. It was well-lit, and the windows
and glass doors made it seem spacious. That part of the office
also made it clear that it was nearly Christmas, with lights and
garland around the windows, wreaths on the doors, a pair of pine
and berry centerpieces on the front counter, and even a small,
decorated tree on the receptionist’s desk. Once in the
principal’s office, Christmas seemed a distant idea, suggested
only by a few Christmas cards displayed on the bookcase and
hutch.
Of the three people in the office, two were adult men. The
younger of the two was sitting behind the desk, which probably
made him ‘Jacob Potter - Principal’, according to the nameplate
that rested on the desk. He was a large man, though not huge.
Sitting, as he was, it was hard to tell, but he stood an inch
over six feet. It was equally hard to judge his age. It looked
like his youth had passed, but he wasn’t yet middle aged;
mid-thirties would be a safe guess. The second man, the one
who’d asked the question, was older -- probably mid-50s. He
wasn’t much shorter than the first man, but he was much heavier.
His face was florid. He didn’t exactly look unhealthy, but he
definitely didn’t look healthy. While the first man looked like
a former athlete who was starting to lose his trim, the second
man looked like he’d never been in trim.
“Seriously, Bailey,” Principal Potter continued, when the boy
he’d addressed didn't speak. “You are treasurer of the Baker
Street Society -- impressive for a freshman. You signed out
money to pay for your Christmas party a day early….”
“I explained that!” the boy interrupted.
“Yes, you did, but that doesn’t mean it’s not unusual. We are
checking to confirm that you had breakfast with your aunt this
morning, but it’s still a point against you. It gives you both
the opportunity and it makes it look premeditated.”
The older man had been standing, but he now leaned back against
the corner of the desk, behind which the younger man sat. That
didn’t make the boy happy. He was sitting in one of the leather
chairs that faced the desk, which meant the man rather loomed
over him, despite his height.
As he approached fifteen, Bailey Stewart stood about 5’5”, which
means both men were taller than him, even when he was standing.
Though he wasn’t a little boy anymore, he hadn’t really started
to fill out much, and he only weighed about 112 pounds. All
students at the King Academy were required to participate in
sports, but Bailey wasn’t what one would call athletic. The
problem was, he wasn’t standing, and even the principal in his
chair seemed to tower over him. The other man seemed to be a
looming menace.
“There’s really only one important question here, Bailey,” the
younger man said after the silence had dragged on several
moments. “The Honor Code holds you strictly responsible for
your actions. What we need to know right now is, what happened
to the money?”
“I don’t know,” Bailey complained. It wasn’t quite a whine, but
it was obvious he was upset and frustrated.
“That’s not good enough. You took the money out early. You
were responsible for it. Now it’s missing, or am I missing
something?”
Bailey stared at his feet, but there was nothing he could say.
“Stand up,” Mr. Potter addressed him.
Bailey climbed reluctantly to his feet and pushed himself to his
full height. Unlike the men, who were dressed individually, if
still rather formally, Bailey was in full school uniform. One
couldn’t tell if the v-necked sweater was sleeveless, not while
he wore the navy blue blazer, but one could tell the sweater
matched the cornflower blue slacks in color. His slacks were
long enough that, even sitting, it wasn’t obvious that he wore
black ankle socks. What was obvious was that his Bass Weejun
Penny Loafers were definitely the solid black required by the
school dress code. His long sleeved button-down shirt was a
less obvious solid white, since it was visible only around the
collar, where it framed the two-toned blue, pin striped tie,
though the sweater hid the school logo, which took up most of
the blade.
“Mr. Allard, no matter how we view his ‘we don’t know’, there’s
no question that Mr. Stewart is guilty of at least gross
negligence; do you disagree?”
The man sitting on the corner of the desk looked at the boy
standing before him for a long moment, then shook his head.
“No, sir. I have to say that’s accurate.”
The man behind the desk nodded his head.
“Mr. Stewart, because you refuse to admit what really happened,
there will have to be a hearing to decide your ultimate fate.
Since this is the end of the semester, there’s a limited amount
we can do before next semester, and the hearing will be before
that.”
The boy felt relief for a moment, but it was short-lived as the
principal stood.
“However, since Mr. Allard and I both agree that you’re guilty
of gross negligence at the minimum, there is something we can do
for now. Please remove your jacket, move to the front of the
desk, undo your trousers, and assume the position.”
Bailey couldn’t prevent a slight whimper from escaping. It was
a rare student who was able to escape the paddle at King’s
Academy. The Academy had been founded on the belief that the
difference between good and great lies in attention to detail,
and they felt it was their duty to teach their students to
observe those details. Bailey had faced the paddle twice before:
once for tardies and once for dress code. Those had both been
minor. Minor or not, they hadn’t been pleasant, and this was
obviously not going to be minor.
As Bailey moved around to where the large chairs were, Mr.
Allard stood and moved one of those chairs forward, so the front
of the seat rested against the desk. Bailey removed his blazer,
then paused. Mr. Allard nodded at the hat tree in the corner,
so Bailey stepped over there to hang his jacket, then returned
to the desk. He moved up so the front of his thighs were
resting against the back of the chair. His hands fumbled with
his belt for a minute, until it hung open. Quickly, the button
and zipper were undone, and he leaned forward, keeping his legs
straight, but letting his weight rest on the palms of his hands,
where they braced against the edge of the desk.
Looking up through his shaggy, but still regulation (barely)
hair, Bailey was able to watch as Mr. Potter stepped to the
hutch, opened one side, and removed a formidable looking paddle.
Bailey was no great judge of size, but the paddle looked to be
over a foot and a half long, and probably three inches wide.
The paddle was made of some clear material, which made judging
its size even harder. However, the horror stories shared by the
boys who’d made their own trip to the office had Bailey worrying
about that paddle even before he felt Mr. Allard’s hands gather
the thighs of his pants and slide them down.
The office wasn’t cool, but Bailey shivered as the skin just
above his knees was exposed. Then he shivered again when he
felt the man’s hands shove his sweater up, then fold up his
dress shirt, then his undershirt, leaving a band of skin above
his boxer briefs exposed. Bailey knew it wasn’t going to stop
there, though. Sure enough, Mr. Allard’s fingers brushed
against Bailey’s waist as they slid into the waistband of the
blue and white checked shorts and slid them down, past his
thighs, to gather at his knees.
Nudity wasn’t uncommon at King’s Academy, since all the students
were required to participate in athletics, and good hygiene was
enforced by the coaches. Still, partial nudity, especially in
the office, in front of these men, left Bailey feeling
humiliated and sick to his stomach. He tried to look at the
seat of the chair and ignore them, but he couldn’t help watching
as Mr. Potter moved around the desk, carrying that evil paddle.
Bailey started to rise up a bit to watch as Mr. Potter circled
around the desk, but was quickly called to task.
“Head up,” Mr. Potter warned him. “Keep your eyes on the
printer.”
“Yes, sir,” Bailey mumbled, as the principal moved behind him.
Bailey was in a near panic. He’d had some pretty thorough
whuppings from his own father, and he’d had a couple of
paddlings since enrolling at King’s, but he had nothing to
prepare him for this: no idea how bad it would be; and he could
only fear it would be as bad as urban legends suggested. He
knew a paddle would leave him sore and aching when he tried to
walk or sit, and he knew from his experiences with his dad that
getting it bare was going to burn. Even with no way of knowing
how bad it might be, dread of the unknown and an active
imagination combined with experience to make his fear even
worse.
The paddle came to rest against his round, smooth, bare cheeks.
If Bailey hadn’t been so close to panic, he might have thought
of the word ‘ironic’ to describe how cool that board felt as it
came to rest against his butt, for he was expecting it to soon
set fire to his world.
Bailey knew that tensing his butt was supposed to make it hurt
worse, but he couldn’t resist clenching his cheeks as the paddle
came away from them.
There was a long pause, long enough that Bailey wanted to beg
for it to end. Then it did, and he screamed.
The paddle smacked down across both Bailey’s cheeks. He’d known
it was going to be bad, but he’d had no way to prepare for how
bad. It burned worse than he could have dreamt, and as the burn
spread, it seemed to sink down into his buns. The pain
continued to build, and Bailey squirmed, trying hard to control
himself and stay in place.
Just as the pain seemed to start dulling, Bailey was shocked
when the paddle smacked down again. The first swat had landed
near the top of his buttocks, right below where the crack
started. This one landed slightly lower, but overlapping, and
if anything, it seemed to hurt even worse. Bailey screamed
again.
Mr. Potter knew exactly how much the paddle hurt. He also knew
that an average young teen could take a pretty hard paddling
without bruising. It wasn’t that he took pleasure in inflicting
pain, but he believed strongly in its teaching properties. He
didn’t believe that boys were naturally bad -- rather he
believed that most people -- students included -- were basically
good. However, he also believed that many people -- especially
boys -- were innately impulsive. He didn’t think in terms of
sin or badness; he thought in terms of giving a boy a reason to
stop and think before the next time he made a reckless,
impulsive decision that got him into trouble.
It was because of his philosophy that Mr. Potter held the paddle
close behind Bailey’s butt, carefully aiming, and watching the
small signs that showed the boy was dealing with the pain. It
was especially evident in the tension of his buttocks, the
tightness in his legs, and the twitching in his shoulders. If
the situation hadn’t been so sad, it would have been funny how
hard boys struggled to stay in position during even serious
punishment sessions like this. As it was, Mr. Potter was
experienced enough to read the average boy’s body language and
to know when the pain of each swat had peaked.
The paddle c‍r‍a‍c‍k‍e‍d
down a third time, again, slightly lower, but still overlapping.
Bailey managed not to cry out this time, but he still couldn’t
stifle a groan. If Bailey had been able to think clearly, he
might have thought this was already worse than anything he’d
ever received from his dad. It wasn’t just that the ache seemed
to sink so deep into his butt, or that the burn seemed to stay
so fresh, but it was the methodical way each swat found new skin
to sear, and the wait between each stroke, so he had to deal
with each stroke separately, but had no time to rest between.
He was trying to ‘be brave’ and ‘take it like a man’, but it
hurt so bad, and it seemed like his whole world had just become
the searing pain. Tears were already flowing down his face, and
he was trying to concentrate on keeping his mouth shut.
He’d seen the paddle start it’s downward descent, yet Mr. Allard
jumped as Bailey cried out again. Unlike the principal, Mr.
Allard didn’t know how that paddle felt, but he was much older
than the principal, and he’d had many sessions with the paddle
when he’d been a student himself. He didn’t remember many of
them specifically, but he did remember making an effort to avoid
them. He felt bad for Bailey, even though he did feel like the
boy had it coming.
Bailey wailed as the paddle smacked down a fifth time, curving
up a bit to bite into the tender undercurve of his butt. He’d
tried to control himself, but the pain was too much, and he
started sobbing hard and loud as soon as he caught his breath.
Mr. Potter knew the boy had broken, but he had no intention of
letting him off easy at the end.
“Leg’s straight, Mr. Stewart,” Mr. Potter commanded after a
moment, while Bailey almost lay across the back of the chair.
Slowly, Bailey forced himself back into position.
Seeing no reason to draw things out any longer, Mr. Potter
quickly aimed, and the paddle rose up, then crashed down.
Bailey was crying hard and loud before the paddle landed. As
the last stroke cut into that same tender spot, but a bit lower
so it also slapped across the top of his thighs, he didn’t have
the air left to scream. Only a whistling, almost squeaky noise
escaped him. Bailey collapsed again, his legs bending as they
shook. His hands released their death hold on the edge of the
desk, but he was too afraid to touch his sore, burning, aching
butt.
Mr. Potter walked around the desk to return the paddle to its
resting spot until it was needed again.
Mr. Allard watched Bailey for a moment and then pushed a box of
Kleenex towards him.
“You can stand up and dress when you’re ready, Stewart.”
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#Post#: 16168--------------------------------------------------
Re: 1 December 2019 - It Happened One Christmas Chapter One
By: kalico Date: December 1, 2019, 8:27 am
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Omg thank you so much for the great surprise of the advent or a
version of it...
Loving it so far but poor bailey...
Hugs kal
#Post#: 16171--------------------------------------------------
Re: 1 December 2019 - It Happened One Christmas Chapter One
By: Adric Date: December 1, 2019, 1:26 pm
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Really hot chapter, Jack. Thanks for all the work. :)
#Post#: 16172--------------------------------------------------
Re: 1 December 2019 - It Happened One Christmas Chapter One
By: guest50 Date: December 1, 2019, 2:39 pm
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Great start! Thank you Jack.
#Post#: 16208--------------------------------------------------
Re: 1 December 2019 - It Happened One Christmas Chapter One
By: David M. Katz Date: December 4, 2019, 12:39 pm
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Great start!
[emoji318]
#Post#: 16289--------------------------------------------------
Re: 1 December 2019 - It Happened One Christmas Chapter One
By: db105 Date: December 8, 2019, 7:13 am
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Very nice beginning. I liked how vivid it was, because of the
attention to detail, like the cool sensation of he wood on bare
skin before the paddling.
I wonder who Mr. Allard is, and what are the circumstances of
Bailey's troubles.
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