Readers,
I am pleased to share part two of Fouettard’s Academy, ‘Behavioural Literacy’, from the generous and talented UK Laureate. Fouettard’s Academy is a piece of genuine F/M Spanking Fiction worthy of bound print, and will appear here in four parts.
Many thanks again to UKL (and readers, please encourage more reader-submitted content by either commenting or clicking ‘love it’ at the bottom of each story post. They really do notice and appreciate the feedback).
More from the UK Laureate:
Fouettard’s Academy: Part One
The Governess Makes a Discovery
The Ballad of Lord Hazlemere
The Blue Umbrella
Enjoy!
– Dana
Fouettard’s Academy: (2) Behavioural Literacy
By session five even the new boys had become acutely aware of the need to smarten up their behaviour, and the effect of the ‘special measures’ employed by Mrs Armstrong and Ms Kane when they failed to do so. However, habits and behaviours developed over thirty or more years were not easily corrected, and even those who tried hard – which, in truth, not all of them did – found the going tough.
“I’m glad to see you all back here again this morning,” Mrs Armstrong greeted them, “and I look forward to seeing what progress you have made. However, before we get into looking at your reports, I want to talk to you about a concept that you may find helpful. It’s called ‘behavioural literacy’.”
A few of the guys passed quizzical looks at each other, but Mrs Armstrong continued unabashed. “I trust you are all well aware of the so-called three R’s – reading, writing and ‘rithmetic. These were the things you first learnt at school when you were small boys. They are three of the skills that everybody needs to be able to make their way in life successfully. Over the years people have come to recognise that there are also other basic skills that you need. You may have heard of the term ‘emotional literacy’, At its most simple, it means the ability to express your feelings in words, such as “I feel happy” or “I feel sad”. Being able to identify our feelings and communicate them is really important.
“I feel confused – my head’s hurting”, said Fleming aloud.
“Very good, Fleming,” said Mrs Armstrong, ignoring what she recognised was intended to be a complaint, “you’re getting the idea.”
“The more emotionally literate you become, the greater your emotional intelligence,” she continued, “and the more emotionally intelligent your are, the better are your relationships. However, whilst anything we do here that improves your emotional literacy and intelligence is good, it is not the prime purpose of this Academy. As you know, our emphasis here is on behaviour, and the task that Ms Kane and I are engaged in is improving your behavioural literacy. Just as the ability to read and write is something that has to be learned, so also the difference between good and bad behaviour has to be learned. That is why we set you the task of writing about your behaviour. The link between literature, or writing, and behaviour is a strong one. By putting things down in black and white, using your own words, you are forced to confront your behaviour more starkly.”
(Remember to click ‘Read More’ below, to see the full story. – Dana)
(Remember to click ‘Read More’ below, to see the full story. – Dana)
Her lecture continued. How much notice the boys were taking only they knew, but they were forced from their lethargy when Mrs Armstrong started questioning them about books they had read, and the qualities they considered necessary for a writer to be labelled as ‘great’.
“Being able to tell a good story that gets you hooked,” Austen suggested.
“Not just that, something that reflects on real life,” Dickens argued.
“I disagree, I like fantasy stories best,” said Potter.
“We’re well aware of that, Potter,” said Ms Kane. “What you write in your reports is much nearer fantasy than fact. I think you’re rather missing the point.”
The discussion continued. Mrs Armstrong and Ms Kane were pleased to see all of the boys contributing, but time constraints meant they needed to move on and get on with writing their weekly behaviour report. Julia and Dana opened and read the wives’ reports and, as usual, were shocked and disappointed by what they read. They also kept an eye on the boys, and noticed that Wilde appeared to have finished writing very quickly, and decided he should be the focus of the first comparison.
“We’re going to start with our friend Mr Wilde,” Ms Kane announced. “For some reason he doesn’t seem to have written much. So, what do you have to say for yourself, Wilde, how has your behaviour been this week?”
Wilde stood up, as was the custom at Fouettard’s when the boys were being examined. “I have nothing to declare,” he said boldly, “in my earnest opinion I have been an ideal husband.”
“What?” Ms Kane questioned him angrily, “are you trying to be funny? The report from your wife is one of the worst I have ever seen, and you have the audacity to stand there and claim you are innocent of all charges. I think you are likely to be having a long detention at the end of today. I’ll hand over to Mrs Armstrong to inform you of your wife’s comments.”
Mrs Armstrong too was infuriated at Wilde’s claim. “According to your wife, who I fully believe, she came in one evening to find you wearing items of her underwear and engaged in what I can only describe as a grossly indecent act. She also says that you have been inattentive to her needs and feelings and have simply responded to what she has asked of you with some smart-ass comments, all of which has made her feel like a woman of no importance. She says she is at her wits end with you. What do you say to that, Wilde?” Mrs Armstrong’s face and tone were illustrative of her indignant anger at the man’s arrogance.
“Excuse me, Ma’am, I do not consider it my fault if my wife has too little sense of humour and does not appreciate my wit. The problem is hers, not mine.”
“We’ll see about who has the problem when I deal with you later today. I’m awarding you one hundred demerits. Sit down, be quiet and contemplate your fate.”
Wilde was not pleased and considered such a harsh sentence most unjust, but knew it was pointless to argue with Mrs Armstrong’s authority, so he remained silent as the focus shifted to Dickens.
Female underwear appeared to be the recurring theme of the day, as in his report Dickens admitted that he had been caught rifling through his wife’s lingerie drawer. Somehow the same old curiosity overcame him, he said, and that he had had a hard time with his wife as a result. She had warned him that the outlook for their marriage was bleak if he continued his obsession.
If his words were intended to elicit sympathy from Mrs Armstrong and Ms Kane his hopes were short-lived. “I’m very disappointed hear this report,” Mrs Armstrong began. “Last week your report was much more promising and I had great expectations of you, Dickens, that your behaviour was improving. It seems that is by no means the case. I’m awarding you fifty demerits and our mutual friend Ms Kane will deal with you accordingly later in the day.”
After a short lunch break the process of examining the boys’ behaviour continued. Austen was first to report. He confessed he had been short-tempered when his wife, Emma, had refused his advances, preferring instead to continue reading a romantic novel, her favourite genre. The thought that she found a book more appealing than the ‘real thing’ with him had hurt his pride and he had stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. It was only in retrospect that he had realised that his actions didn’t make much sense. The following evening he had adopted a different approach, using what he thought was subtle persuasion, but that hadn’t worked either. By the end of the week this had led to a fierce row in which he had accused her of being a ‘miserable uptight bitch’. He admitted he had been out of order.
Mrs Armstrong looked at him and shook her head. “Austen, my first impressions of you were that you were a decent man,” she said, “and in many ways I still believe that. I give you credit for admitting your fault, and your story coincides with much of what your wife has reported. However, you must learn that bad temper and unkind and unjustified words are not acceptable, and though I can see that your pride was hurt, that must not prejudice the award of punishment. You will have twenty-five demerits.”
Next it was Wordsworth’s turn to be examined. By way of a prelude, he thanked Mrs Armstrong and Ms Kane for their attention, saying that he recognised the value of their instruction. “I know I must seem perverse and that there’s no rhyme or reason to the things I do,” he said, adding that he was attempting to be more sensible and down to earth. However, he admitted that during the past week he had almost caused an accident by his careless driving when he and Mary were out the previous Sunday, that he had risked setting the kitchen on fire by forgetting to turn off the chip-pan, and had carelessly knocked over a vase of daffodils, breaking one of his wife’s favourite vases in the process.
Ms Kane addressed him. “It’s clear to all of us, Wordsworth, that you are a dreamer, and my view is that while your actions appear to be due to carelessness, there is also a wilful disregard for your responsibilities. You must recognise the worry and distress this causes your wife. I hope you can imagine how you would feel if the tables were turned. Accordingly, it is my duty to help you to be more mindful of your responsibilities, and I have just acquired an excellent ‘no-holes-barred’ paddle that is ideal for this purpose. You also are awarded twenty-five demerits.”
As Fleming stood up to make his report he was mindful that the demerit awards this week seemed particularly harsh. He certainly didn’t consider that Wordsworth deserved twenty-five. However, his concern was more for himself than his fellow student. He knew that he had transgressed badly, and feared the worst. He had debated with himself whether he should report the whole truth or minimise it, and had opted for the latter in the hope that his wife’s report would not be too severe.
“I’m afraid I didn’t do too well this week,” he began. “I had a week away from the office and was supposed to be redecorating our bedroom, but you know how hot it has been. Our next-door neighbour was sunbathing in her garden and I must admit I was wishing I was relaxing in the garden rather than working. Then I had an idea for a story and spent some time writing that. It was intended for my eyes only but unfortunately my wife found it, so she knew why not much decorating had been achieved. She had quite a go at me and I told her you only live once and it’s important to enjoy yourself, not just work all the time. That made her even more mad at me and she went in for the kill and kicked me in the.. er.. er.. where it hurts. I told her I might need to go to the doctor but she said no, just live with it. So all in all it wasn’t a very good week.”
“Fleming, in addition to the story you wrote, and I’ll come to that in a moment, the story you have just told is one of the most fanciful and implausible I have ever heard,” said Mrs Armstrong, her brow deeply furrowed. “You refer, rightly, to your neighbour sunbathing. Accordingly to your wife, the neighbour you refer to was in fact the daughter of their visitors from Russia, who was sunbathing in a rather skimpy bikini, as she had every right to do. What she did not need was you spying on her from your upstairs room. Further, your wife tells me that she spoke to your neighbour, and was told that the girl had seen you spying on her through a pair of binoculars. What kind of impression of this country do you think she has now? And then there’s this story that you referred to. No wonder you didn’t want your wife to see it! A graphic account of you being seduced by the bikini-clad girl and what you then got up to. As if she would be interested in bonding with you – you flatter yourself, Fleming. I’ll spare the class any further details but suffice to say I have noted them and the matter will be reflected in your punishment. One hundred demerits, and count that a lucky escape – I was inclined to give you more.”
Fleming sat down ruefully, reflecting that, on this occasion, his strategy had misfired. It wasn’t like this in the movies. He was not looking forward to the end of the day.
Finally, attention turned to Potter. He too was not looking forward to the admission he had to make. Since his days at boarding school he had had a penchant for pornography, and had recently acquired some new material that he normally kept hidden away in a secret chamber at the back of his closet. Unfortunately for him the material was in the living room when his fiancée, Joanne, had called unexpectedly. Fortunately, she hadn’t seen the worst (or is that the best?) of it, but had seen enough to be upset. His excuse that it was only the stuff of fantasy had fallen on deaf ears and she had made it plain that he must get rid of it well before their wedding. The consequent tension between them had not been eased the following evening when he had forgotten to meet her after her weekly hockey practice. ‘Henry, this behaviour spells trouble for our marriage,’ she had told him in an irate phone-call. “I know she is right,” Potter admitted to Ms Kane and Mrs Armstrong who were studying him intently, “but I’m sure I can work my charms and make things alright.”
It was Ms Kane who responded. “You too, Potter, like Fleming, seem to spend half your life in a world of fantasy. If I was your fiancée, perish the thought, I would be extremely dubious about marrying you. It’s time you got to grips with the real world, and fast. Meanwhile, as I said to Wordsworth a little earlier, I have just the thing to help you. Since you seem to like things to do with sorcery, I shall wave my magic wand, otherwise known as a cane, in the direction of your backside. Your award today is fifty demerits.”
Gloom filled the room as the end of the day and ‘special measures’ time drew near. As Mrs Armstrong had pointed out, between them the six students had amassed a grand total of three hundred and fifty demerits, which she said was the highest number ever. “Perhaps it is fortunate that we are only halfway through our course,” she said, “because it is clear that all of you boys have a great deal of improvement to make.”
One by one the boys were called in to see Mrs Armstrong or Ms Kane for their allotted punishments. Paddles whacked, straps cracked and canes swished, leaving each of the miscreants with extremely sore and tender bottoms, especially Fleming and Wilde who, on account of their one hundred demerits, each received twenty-four strokes of the cane.
“I’m not sure if my lecture on behavioural literacy fell on deaf ears,” Julia said to Dana as they tidied up after the session. “When will these boys ever grow up and learn to behave like the responsible men they are supposed to be?”
“It takes time, Julia,” Dana replied. “Don’t write them off. I’m sure the help we give them is having an effect. When they sit down and reflect – of course they can’t do that right now,” she said, a big smile spreading across her face, “they will see the error of their ways. And if not, well, we’ll just have to go on providing them with some more of our special encouragement.”
To be continued.
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Enjoyable. Thanks
Michael
What a wonderful story! Thank you, Ma’am, for bringing it to us – I can hardly wait for part 3, and how I would love to be one of the young men at this amazing Academy!
Wow. Forget behavioral (or behavioural in British) literacy… I think that post increased the literary literacy required to read spanking blogs. Very clever, and a fun read. Thanks to the author.
I think Dana should open up an American branch of the Academy. Mr. Hemingway wouldn’t be a lot of fun (“I was bad. I was very bad. Now it will hurt.”) However, Mr. Twain (or Mr. Clemens) has a mouth that would probably get him plenty of extra demerits, and force Dana to stifle a chuckle handing them out.
Ummmm, shouldn’t the “Potter” character in this story actually be named “Rowling,” as the other males are named after authors rather than their fictional characters? –C.K.