—There’s something about Rees that gives one pause.

—His tragic inability to take a joke?

—That, too, but I had in mind the way he looks at one.

—Oh. Yes.

—At you, for instance, in the changer after Smokey gave you six.

—Yesterday, you mean, out of the shower?

—Yes. Of course everyone looked—cracking good stripes—but Rees looked.

—I suppose one ought to be flattered.

—And last week he was hovering around outside Smokey’s study window.

—Not peering, surely?

—Listening anyhow, the afternoon you got done for smoking. Then there’s the fact that he’s always first to the changer and last out.

—Now that you mention it, he does have a way of appearing whenever anyone’s showing off marks.

—And he’s always under the showers when you are.

—I hope you’re not implying—

—I imply nothing. I merely observe, and what I observe is that he looks at you in lessons as if you’re not wearing a stitch.

—I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.

—Of course not. Remember when your crib crashed to the ground in the middle of exams last term?

—Do I ever. Radcliffe half killed me. I was an inch from blubbing.

—Remember who was sitting in front of you, whose seat jogged your form?

—You don’t mean to say Rees dropped me in it?

—I can only say he took an uncommon satisfaction in your comeuppance.

—I thought that was ’cause I’d ragged him so hard the night before.

—Perhaps. You were a sight to behold, though, then and yesterday.

—Oh, yes?

—You’ve a nice line in barely-concealed wincing.

—Thanks.

—But Rees, to summarize, is a reprobate. That’s all there is to it.

—Evidently there’s not a soul in the House who keeps closer tabs on me than he does.

—Evidently.

—Indeed.

---

The wicked schoolboys are back, Heaven help us.

Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of the Sweltering Celt. The theme this week is exhibitionism/voyeurism.

—A word of advice, before we let you loose on the beasts.

—Sir?

—Take the stick to someone the first or second day. Find the leader, and find a reason to cane him. When you do, cane hard.

—How hard?

—Too hard. Gets the message out. And you don’t want him coming back for more.

—What message, sir?

—That you’re not to be trifled with.

—Ah.

—Now then, take that, and that, standard issue. Practice. I recommend a pillow set about yea high.

—Yes, sir.

—When it comes to the act, for Heaven’s sake take your time. Observe all the regular ceremonies.

—Which are?

—Make the boy remove his jacket. Have him stand before you, look him in the eye, and announce the sentence in full.

—I’m giving you six?

—That’s rather prefectorial and brief. Better: Carleton minor, you have been insolent and self-indulgent mucking about in my lesson. You are now going to receive four strokes of the cane. Bend over.

—A bit artificial, isn’t it?

—Not at all. But make sure you hold the boy’s eye the whole time. If he looks away, make him look back.

—Right.

—Take time positioning him. For three or four strokes, you can have the boy touch his toes, but for anything more, it’s better to give him something to hold onto. If he seems overconfident, adjust his posture. Make him feel he’s conforming to your standards, not the other way round.

—Right.

—For the caning itself, you’ll hear every sort of opinion, but it is my long experience that slow is best. Count at least to ten between strokes, preferably twenty. You want him to have the full experience, remember.

—Yes, sir.

—Don’t let him get up until told, and of course observe the standard ceremonies afterwards, handshake, etc. When the boy says Thank you, don’t say You’re welcome. A simple nod is best. Whatever you do, don’t jaw him again.

—I used to hate that.

—Everyone does. Once the punishment’s given, it’s done and dusted. Full stop. And don’t tell him you hope you won’t have to do it again. Refrain from commenting altogether, unless a pithy Well stuck is merited.

—Right.

—You ought to stick to the cane, I think, but if it seems appropriate, you could put a third former across your knee for the slipper. I’d only do this in private, though, and be aware that he will feel the humiliation keenly. I think it’s best to avoid the slipper altogether this term, however.

—If you say so, sir.

—I hope you aren’t humoring me, young man. I know of what I speak! A good caning is one of the most fundamental sizings up there is between men and boys. Respect it.

—Oh, I do. But, sir… I feel I should level with you.

—How so, young man?

—I feel I must tell you that I am opposed to corporal punishment entirely. On grounds of conscience.

—Oh, yes? And how do you intend to maintain order?

—With clear expectations, praise, force of personality, and other non-physical sanctions.

—Right, well, I’m sure that will be a roaring success. But not unless you cane—effectively—at least one boy from every form. Once you’ve done that, you can use any methods you please.

—Is that an order, sir?

—Oh, don’t bristle, young man. I’ve said you won’t be persecuted for those beliefs of yours. Though how a Marlborough prefect wound up a white-feather man is a confounded mystery.

—So I’m told, sir.

—Right, then. To sum up: cane early, cane hard, observe ceremony. Never punish in anger, in haste, or in confusion. Clear?

—Crystal, sir.

—Then kneel, young man. And rise. Your rod and your staff. Go forth and educate.

---

Not the wicked schoolboys, but their masters this time…

Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of the Sweltering Celt. The theme this week is ceremony. Congratulations to Ang & Doc on their wedding!

—Four o’clock, is it?

—That’s what it says here.

—Well, it was inevitable, wasn’t it? Had the cane before? …What, never?

—It isn’t exactly my fault!

—No one’s said it is… Ri-ight. Eyes front, listen to me… Listening?

—Yes.

—Do sport beforehand. Eight or nine circuits as fast as you can take.

—Why?

—Nerves. Two: look smart. Shower, comb your hair, polish those shoes, make sure there’s a crease in those trousers.

—You make it sound like going to church.

—Don’t mock. Three: It sometimes helps to count backwards in your head. Only four more to go. Etcetera.

—What if you’re told to count them out?

—Then disregard, obv!

—Obv.

—Where was I? Oh, yes: Be on time. Unless you want to go for extras, which I don’t recommend first time out.

—No fear.

—Five: Don’t clench. Makes it hurt more. Trust me. Try breathing in when you hear the swish.

—What if… ?

—What?

—What if you can’t stay down?

—Hold onto something, rail of the chair, your ankles, anything. Do not get up until told to. Like I said, don’t go for extras.

—What if…

—You can take it. Believe me. It’s bad, but not as bad as you think.

—Ha.

—Oh yes, six: When you’re told to stand up, don’t forget the thank you.

—Check.

—Cheek under duress. There’s hope for you yet. Right then, off you go.

—Thanks.

—You’re welcome. See you at four.

---

A slight twist on this week’s theme of teacher. Read it as you like, of course, but for the first speaker, I recommend cf. with the unnamed prefect in Dawn. Thanks to Ang for Microfantasy Monday!

— Farmboy, move that planter over here for me.

— As you wish.

— And those crates, farmboy, take them down the cellar.

— As you wish.

* * *

— Farmboy? Do you see the table and chairs down there? Bring them up and set them up in the garden.

— As you wish.

* * *

— Finished are you, farmboy? Then go to the pump and wash yourself, thoroughly.

— As you wish.

* * *

— Leave your shirt there, farmboy, and fetch me that riding crop… Now bend over that, there, and count these out for me.

— As you wish.

* * *

— Stand up, farmboy, and look at me. I want you to wait here until the clock tolls the hour. Then put on your shirt and come into the house. There you will find a girl who has been impertinent. Deal with her as her father would, if he were here. Please.

— As you wish…

---

A rush job, and apologies to The Princess Bride.

Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Sweltering Celt. The theme this week was heavy lifting.

—Bring him here.

—Let me go!

—Shan’t. You’re a horrid, dirty boy spying on us.

—He saw us the whole time.

—He saw our knickers!

—Let’s pluck out his eyes.

—Let’s feed him to the Germans.

—Quiet, all of you. He’s got to have a proper trial. Right then, you, what do you have to say for yourself?

—Cat got your tongue?

—Not so clever now, is he?

—Order! Nothing to say…? Then the court finds you guilty of espionage in the first degree. And public lewdness.

—I wasn’t lewd!

—Shut up. It’s time to discuss your punishment.

—Let’s tell his Headmaster. He’ll get the cane.

—Let’s tell his dad. He’ll get it unprotected.

—If we tell his mum, he’ll get the hairbrush first.

—Mum said he’d get the strap as well if there was any more nonsense.

—Traitor!

—Should’ve seen him last night in the air raid shelter.

—If you say one word—

—Ow, Mum, please! Mummy! And that was just the slipper.

—I’m going to kill you, I am.

—No you aren’t, boy. You’re going to listen to us. The court will consider a gesture of compassion.

—Well, what?

—Sulking isn’t done, you know.

—If you agree not harm the witness here, now or ever, and if you agree to accept the punishment of the court, we will keep this matter amongst ourselves.

—What’s the punishment of the court, then?

—Three from each of us, with this.

—But that makes…

—Don’t strain yourself calculating. It’s that or we tell your mum, your dad, and your Headmaster.

—That’s not fair!

—Your choice.

—You’re evil, you are.

—Insulting the court will get you nowhere.

—If I agree, then that’s an end to it? You won’t tell anyone else?

—Right.

—What about the boys?

—No-one.

—Well…

---

I probably owe some apologies to Hope and Glory or maybe Careful, He Might Hear You for this one.

Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Sweltering Celt. The theme this week via ButchtasticKyle was espionage.

—God…

—Quite.

—For something so bloody…

—I didn’t think it was.

—Painful, that was bloody terrific.

—It gets easier.

—It’s very wicked, isn’t it?

—Yes.

—Is it the wickedest thing you can do?

—Absolutely.

—And you made me do it.

—I did.

—I didn’t want to.

—No.

—And then you made me spunk.

—I did.

—Is that what happens to naughty boys?

—It is.

—What else happens to them?

—You know perfectly well.

—Do they get the cane?

—They do.

—Then do they get buggered?

—Good and hard.

—Is it very naughty?

—The naughtiest.

—Do it again.

—We ought to have some sleep, you know.

—I don’t see why.

—You’ll look like a raccoon at Chapel, for one.

—Do you suppose there’s something wrong with us?

—The game, you mean? It’s only pretend.

—But other people…?

—Damn other people. Other people do worse, and call it…

—What?

—Ordinary.

—I don’t want to be a pansy.

—You aren’t. We aren’t.

—What are we, then?

—Friends.

—Friends?

—And if two friends can’t be naughty together, what can they do?

—What if we’re caught?

—There’d be trouble.

—Would we be whacked?

—Oh, yes.

—Hard?

—Very hard.

—Before the whole school?

—And their mothers and sisters.

—Not that!

—Oh, yes. And then we’d be sent to Borstal, and you know what happens to boys there.

—Tell me.

—It’s late.

—We can sleep when we’re dead. Tell me…

---

Those schoolboys have been at it again. They really aren’t safe for work. Make of them what you will, but I thought these were the same who appeared in “Dawn,” and they certainly attend the same school as those in last’s week’s “Cricket.” I simply cannot explain their rudeness except to say they appear to inhabit an era different from our own.

Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Sweltering Celt. The theme this week was sleep.

— So what do you make of the new boy, day two?

— Titchy one? Not much.

— Really?

— Haven’t had a chance, honestly. Second XI are driving me right round the bend.

— Ah.

— Clearly you’ve made something of him, though. Speak.

— Promising, we think.

— On or off the pitch?

— Both.

— Go on.

— We-ell…he gives off like he doesn’t know he’s born, but.

— Mettle?

— In spades, I’d wager. Had to umpire the Third this afternoon.

— Oh, and you suffered.

— Hideously! But as for yon tadpole, he’s a straight bat.

— Wake me in a year’s time.

— Should’ve seen his face when he was dismissed.

— Oh?

— Positively sulked. Scrumptious.

— Dear me. We can’t be doing with poor sports in this house.

— Certainly not.

— Where’s he now? At nets?

— Bound to be.

— Send him up. As he is. And before you think it, you can make yourself scarce.

— Glutton! If you’re going to get those flannels down, the least you can do is let me watch.

— Filthy boy. Impatient boy.

— Guilty.

— The flannels may or may not come down, but the only thing he’ll feel today is the sole of my slipper.

— Today.

— Vive hodie. Leave tomorrow to develop itself.

— Oh, the developments!

— Get out, you. Out.

---

Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Sweltering Celt. The theme this week was sports.

—First time?

—Not the first time feeling like hell, thanks.

—Mind you don’t let Matron hear you talk that way, or she’ll wash out your mouth as well.

—What do you mean, as well?

—Oh, dear. You haven’t heard of Matron’s soapy water, then?

—What about it?

—Ha. You’ll see. She’ll be getting it ready right now. That’s why she makes you wear a nightshirt.

—For a sponge bath?

—Are you green as a newt in absolutely everything? No, don’t answer. Just prepare yourself for a thorough, and I mean thorough washout.

—I don’t know what you mean, but it’s low to rag someone in the San.

—Who’s ragging? It’s her favorite remedy, for more or less everyth—Shh, back to bed! See what she’s got on the trolley?

—What’s that tube for?

—Oh, you’ll see. Will you see. Good luck, newt.

---

Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Sweltering Celt. The theme this week was cleaning. I’m running for the airport, but I really couldn’t resist.

- You won’t ever call me Sunshine, or anything barfy like that, will you?

- Never.

- What will you call me?

- It rather depends, doesn’t it?

- What if I’m wearing this?

- Then, young lady, you can go straight across my knee.

- And what about this?

- I’d have to call you Miss then, wouldn’t I?

- It would be wise. And this?

- Ooh, mean babysitter – Miss?

- I think that would be Sir.

- In that skirt?

- She watches Battlestar Gallactica.

- Geek, then.

- Not to her face, unless you want some of this.

- Ah! Sir. Sir! Yes, sir!

- Better. What about when I’m wearing this?

- Only Aunt Amelia would wear that, and it’s always best to agree with her. Now this quite interests me, especially with these underneath.

- What would you call me then?

- Put it on and we’ll see.

- Well?

- Oh…you, boy, are the most impertinent fourth former it has ever been my misfortune to know. You can touch your toes for the cane right now.

- Right now?

- Right now.

- Ah!

- Hold still…right, now get those off. I’m going to have to fuck you.

- Isn’t buggery wicked?

- Very wicked. But you can’t expect me to resist, with a bottom like that, and such straight marks.

- Not that you’re modest.

- Quiet, boy.

- Come here, you. Here.

- Mmm…

- Slower…Here…What will you call me now?

- Darling.

- Don’t go away again. Promise. Promise.

- Oh, sweetheart, as long as I live. As long as I live.

---

Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Sweltering Celt. The theme this week was sunlight. Unfortunately, I misread it as sunshine. Oops.

Thursday’s Child’s piece for Microfantasy Monday inspired me. MM seems to be the brainchild of Sweltering Celt. The theme this week was skin. Here you are, then – a dialogue:

Skin

–It’s getting to her.

–How can you tell, with her face behind the screen?

–The flush, there.

–Oh. Yes.

–And the goose-bumps.

–And that?

–Ah, yes. That.

–How long, do you think, until she can’t help herself?

–Up to us, isn’t it? I could make her in… shortly.

–Don’t, though.

–Wouldn’t dream of it.

–We’ve only just started.

–We’ve got all night.

–Try there, with… not so fast. You’ve got to be patient.

–Sorry.

–Try again… Better. See the skin there, how the hairs are…?

–Oh! Yes. So you think she’s…?

–She’s trying to hide it, trying to resist, but it’s useless. See there?

–You’re very good at this, aren’t you?

–I have a lot of practice.

–What about her?

–None whatsoever. That’s what makes it so charming, how she thinks she can -

–Is that significant? There.

–No. But this is.

–She’s going to -

–No, she isn’t. Not until we make her, deliberately.

–Do things ever happen that you don’t expect?

–I live for the unexpected.

–I’m starting to feel quite… my… see, it looks almost like hers, there.

–Lovely. Take this, don’t rush, and try it there.

–There?

–There.