Post by badlee on Mar 6, 2004 5:18:16 GMT -5
William awoke with a start. He had been dozing on his desk, and the punishment for that was painful. Usually a great beating with the cane, or even a red hot firey poker.
He sat up quickly, folding down his hair, which was sticking up, giving him a sort of ragged rumpelstiltskin look, giving the way his hair went. His body was thin and frail, and bruised, cut in places. He had wheels and sores on his body, as beatings seemed to always come to him. It was all very bewildering.
His clothes were grey and thin, and a little blood stained them from beatings aplenty. He rubbed a sore spot on his arm. He was such a bad boy. He knew that. His Mum said she was kinder to him than others. She only gave him soft beatings. He looked up quickly, for the skin on his neck prickled.
As he guessed, of course, the teacher was watching him. Mr. Barret gave the usual point to the door with his stick, sentencing him to another beating. What would it be this time? Head bowed, he walked once again into the dark-tunnel of a room of the headmaster's office.
The headmaster glanced at him, and with a wave of his hand, told William to bend over, his finger-tips touching his toes, which were enclosed in white plimsols.
There was a gut-wrenching crack, and the headmaster struck.
If you have been caned before, which I hope you haven't, you will know that it always takes a few seconds for you to notice, then it blinds you with pain.
William bit his lip in worry, but the cane struck before he could do anything.
Usually, after hitting once, the the expert caner hits again, this time on wounded flesh, which is of course, extremely more painful.
He sat up quickly, folding down his hair, which was sticking up, giving him a sort of ragged rumpelstiltskin look, giving the way his hair went. His body was thin and frail, and bruised, cut in places. He had wheels and sores on his body, as beatings seemed to always come to him. It was all very bewildering.
His clothes were grey and thin, and a little blood stained them from beatings aplenty. He rubbed a sore spot on his arm. He was such a bad boy. He knew that. His Mum said she was kinder to him than others. She only gave him soft beatings. He looked up quickly, for the skin on his neck prickled.
As he guessed, of course, the teacher was watching him. Mr. Barret gave the usual point to the door with his stick, sentencing him to another beating. What would it be this time? Head bowed, he walked once again into the dark-tunnel of a room of the headmaster's office.
The headmaster glanced at him, and with a wave of his hand, told William to bend over, his finger-tips touching his toes, which were enclosed in white plimsols.
There was a gut-wrenching crack, and the headmaster struck.
If you have been caned before, which I hope you haven't, you will know that it always takes a few seconds for you to notice, then it blinds you with pain.
William bit his lip in worry, but the cane struck before he could do anything.
Usually, after hitting once, the the expert caner hits again, this time on wounded flesh, which is of course, extremely more painful.