Fouettard’s Academy: (4) End of term
The ‘boys’ gathered for session ten with mixed feelings. Not having to spend their Saturdays concentrating on their behaviour, and almost inevitably going home with a sore bottom, was, in many ways, welcome. However, they had actually become rather attached to Mrs Armstrong and Ms Kane. Although they were strict, and employed what most people regarded as old-fashioned methods, there was something about them that commanded respect and admiration. The course had been enlightening. They had learned that habits and behaviour that previously they wouldn’t have given a second thought to was unacceptable to women, and it was somehow refreshing to encounter these two strong women who neither ignore their bad behaviour nor nagged them about it but confronted them in a clear and straightforward manner.
However, life had changed even more dramatically in the past week. The ‘wives’ session’ the previous Saturday meant that it wasn’t only on Saturdays that they had to answer for their actions, it was everyday! For two of them, Ernie Wilde and Oliver Dickens, this was especially so, and far from having to wait until the end of the session, they arrived at the Academy with a distinct consciousness of part of their anatomy (and not the part that normally drives mens’ thinking!).
Mrs Armstrong and Ms Kane had been looking forward to the session all week, not so much because it was the end of term but more because they were keen to hear whether the work they had done with the wives had been productive. In some cases they were pretty confident but with others they wondered whether, back home in a one-to-one situation, the wives’ new-found assertiveness might have wavered.
The early signs were good. Several of the men seemed considerably quieter and more reflective than usual, and the women sensed a mood of anxiety and compliance that they had not witnessed previously. As soon as everyone was assembled and settled Mrs Armstrong began. “I hope you’ve all had a good week. Ms Kane and I are looking forward to hearing your reports.”
No sooner had she started than Ernie Wilde raised his arm aloft. “Yes, Wilde, what is it?”
“Please Ma’am, I was just wondering, if matters… how shall I say… have been dealt with at home, do we still need to report them to you? I mean, it wouldn’t be very fair for us to be punished twice.”
Knowing smiles spread across the faces of the two women. Mrs Armstrong turned to her colleague. “Ms Kane, what do you think? Would it be fair for us to punish a naughty boy who’s already been punished?”
Of course they had already considered this issue as part of their preparation for the session. “Well, Mrs Armstrong, it seems to me it very much depends on the behaviour in question and whether we consider the punishment has been sufficient.”
“I have a good idea why you’re asking that question, Wilde,” said Mrs Armstrong. “I’ve just read a very interesting report from your wife. So let’s start with you and see if your version of events tallies.”
The boy stood up and began his account. “Caroline told me last weekend that from now on she will be keeping a tally of everything I do wrong and on Friday evenings it will be payback time. I didn’t realise she would be including even the tiniest thing wrong, like when I didn’t answer her quickly enough. On Tuesday I left some dirty socks on the bedroom floor, and she also told me to run the dishwasher next morning, which I forgot to do. On Wednesday she said she’d noticed that the car was very dirty and that I’d been negligent to let it get so bad. On Thursday there was…. oh, I can’t remember now. Really, Ma’am it’s been tough going. She’s picked on every little thing.” Wilde paused, but if he thought he was going to get a sympathetic word from Mrs Armstrong he was mistaken.
“Probably not before time unless I’m very much mistaken, which is not something I’m in the habit of being. As I’ve told you repeatedly over the past ten weeks, you boys need to smarten up your act. However, Wilde, you’ve not finished the story. What happened on Friday?”
Mrs Armstrong knew only too well what had happened on Friday but she wanted to hear it from Wilde himself.
“Er… well Ma’am, I got home from work as usual, and I had decided that I should say sorry for my failings during the week, so I bought her a really huge bunch of flowers. But instead of being pleased – well, actually she did say they were nice but she then went on to say that if I thought I could bribe her by buying flowers I’d better think again. However, she said that it was good that I’d bought her a present as she had bought one for me and that she’d give it to me later. We had dinner and watched some television. Then, suddenly, she turned off the programme saying it was time for my present and that she’d be back in a moment. A couple of minutes later, sure enough, she was back carrying a parcel, all tied up with ribbons. She gave it to me and told me to open it. Of course I was intrigued and…”.
His words were cut short by Mrs Armstrong. “At this point you had no idea what was in the parcel, is that correct, Wilde?”
“Yes, Ma’am, I had no idea. It was quite a big box, about this long.” He stretched his hands out wide. “When I got the box open there was a load of newspaper and filling inside and Caroline told me to search. Suddenly I felt something hard and pulled it out. It was a paddle, like one of the ones you and Ms Kane have here. I was still getting over the shock of that when my wife said to keep searching, and right at the bottom of the box there was a cane. Caroline then said to me that although they were for me, it was also a present for herself, because she would enjoy using them. And then she told me to pass them to her.”
“Rather a shock for you, eh, Wilde?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“This is a really interesting story, Wilde, please do continue.” Mrs Armstrong had a smile on her face as she spoke. She was enjoying seeing the boy’s discomfort as he recounted his experience.
“Well, Ma’am, she reminded me of what she’d said about Friday being payback time and that she’d been dying to use the things since they’d arrived the previous day. She told me she’d ordered them online as soon as she got home last Saturday, and that the company had fulfilled its stated three to five days delivery schedule. She then said that even though my behaviour hadn’t been that bad, as the implements were new she needed to give them a thorough try-out, so I’d be getting an extended spanking and caning. She told me to undress, moved a chair into the centre of the room and sat down, then told me to get over her lap. She told me I’d better get used to being over her lap because it was likely I’d find myself there every Friday evening. And then she started, whacking my butt with the paddle, which hurt like blazes. I’d never realised she was quite so strong. How long that went on I’m not sure, it seemed like ages to me, but finally she stopped and told me to stand up.”
“But that was not the end of the proceedings, was it, Wilde? Do carry on,” Mrs Armstrong interjected.
“Well, Ma’am, I was standing there rubbing my butt, thankful it was over, but Caroline went and picked up the cane and was making swishing noises with it. She said she thought it would do nicely, and ordered me to bend over with my hands flat on the chair. And then she gave me a dozen vicious swats, which stung something rotten.”
“Are you sure it was a dozen, Wilde? Did you keep count?” Mrs Armstrong asked.
“Yes, Ma’am, she told me to count each stroke aloud.”
“Well, well,” declared Mrs Armstrong, “there was me sitting at home yesterday evening, relaxing and quietly reading a book, while over in your house all this excitement was happening. What a lucky boy you are to have such a caring and responsible wife!”
Wilde, for once, remained silent, wanting, but not daring, to disagree with Mrs Armstrong, who continued speaking.
“In the circumstances it sounds as though you have been well recompensed for your behaviour this week and that, for once, you are not in need of my special measures. What do you think Ms Kane?”
“It certainly sounds so to me, Mrs Armstrong,” Ms Kane replied, “but perhaps to be sure we should just check on the state of Wilde’s backside, to make sure that he hasn’t been exaggerating.”
“An excellent idea,” Mrs Armstrong declared, “come out here, Wilde, and bare your bottom for us all to see.”
Reluctantly, Ernie Wilde made his way to the front and did as Mrs Armstrong had instructed, so that the results of the previous evening were on show not only to the two women but also to his fellow students.
“Most impressive,” Mrs Armstrong declared.
“I agree,” said Ms Kane, “it is very clear, Wilde, that your wife is not only caring but also very skilled.”
The women’s approval was justified. Not only was the whole of Wilde’s bottom a very deep shade of pinkish red, it was also bearing a mass of distinctive tramline marks left by the cane. It was clear that Mrs Wilde had been as proficient dealing with her husband as she had been when practising at the previous week’s session.
“Very well, Wilde, pull your trousers up and go and sit down … carefully, I suggest, given the state of you.” Mrs Armstrong could be severe, but she had a kind side too! “We shall not be requiring you to stay behind this evening.”
Attention turned to Dickens. Mrs Dickens was another of the wives who had impressed Mrs Armstrong and Ms Kane, and her report had stated that she had indeed put her new-found spanking skills into practice, and clearly had listened carefully to Ms Kane’s talk about household implements. But it was important to hear her husband’s side of the story.
Dickens, who could be hard going at times, recounted the events of the week in detail. It transpired that Mrs Dickens had adopted a rather different approach to Mrs Wilde. Instead of making a note of transgressions and dealing with them on a weekly basis, she had decided on an ‘instant justice’ approach. So it was that on the previous Sunday when Oliver Dickens had tried to evade helping with the chores that were a part of his wife’s household routine, he found himself over Anne’s knee for a sound spanking. On Tuesday he had carelessly let a pan of milk boil over and she had spanked him with a wooden spoon, and on Wednesday, when he left his clothes lying all over the bedroom, she had reached for her wooden-backed hairbrush. On Thursday and Friday he had redoubled his efforts and had managed to avoid further inflictions on his backside.
“It seems to me that your wife’s attentions are having a very beneficial effect,” Ms Kane commented.
“Yes Ma’am,” Dickens agreed ruefully.
“Well, I shall be contacting her and urging her to keep up the good work. I shall also inform her that, should she need any assistance in correcting you, she can arrange for you to attend one of the private sessions that I arrange for naughty boys. Is that clear?”
“Yes Ma’am, thank you Ma’am, but I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
Ms Kane was not so sure, but for now she gave him the benefit of the doubt. “Oh, and that goes for the rest of you boys as well,” she added, addressing the class.
“Right, Mr Potter, I think we’ll hear from you next,” Mrs Armstrong declared authoritatively. Henry Potter and his fiancée Joanne Rowley were the couple about whom Mrs Armstrong was most concerned. The fact that they did not live together permanently meant that Potter had the advantage of some additional leeway, and some of the behaviour that had been reported over the term had placed him in need of considerable correction. Moreover, there was no guarantee that the full extent of any misbehaviour had been reported. Additionally, Mrs Armstrong was concerned whether Joanne was a strong enough character to control him in the way that was needed.
“Joanne and I had a long talk last Saturday evening,” he began. “She said the session last week had been quite an eye-opener, and that she had realised she needed to be more assertive. She asked me how I felt about that and I said I wasn’t sure, that I could see good and bad aspects to it. We agreed we’d just have to see how things are once we’re married. Then when I saw her during the week she said she’d thought some more, and that she now thought we needed to sort this out now rather than waiting ‘til we’re married when it’s kind of too late. Then she gave me an ultimatum, that if I didn’t agree to her being in charge then she would break off our engagement. That was a shock to me and not something I wanted to happen, so after we’d talked some more, I agreed to give it go on that basis. Anyway, the most important thing is that her ultimatum really made me think about myself, and I intend to try my best to behave in the right way.”
The gist of Potter’s statement coincided almost exactly with the report that Mrs Armstrong had received from Joanne. Listening to him, she felt that his words and intentions were sincere.
“Well now, I think that is cause for some celebration,” she said. “You will all remember that when you came to Fouettard’s I told you that my sole aim is the help you have better lives and better relationships. What you have said sounds to me as though the prospects are very positive for you and the future Mrs Potter. I am also delighted to hear that your fiancée has the good sense to sort out the nature of your relationship now, something for which I shall congratulate her. Similar to what Ms Kane said to you earlier, I shall tell her that I too am available to support her if you give her any trouble. But for now I wish you well.”
“Thank you Ma’am,” Potter replied. In truth he was still somewhat taken aback by his experience at the Academy and the change in his relationship with his fiancée, but deep down he had a sense that what Mrs Armstrong, Ms Kane, and now Joanne too were demanding was in his best interests. Moreover, he had not enjoyed having his bottom warmed, and the threat of this happening at his fiancée’s hands was a strong incentive to improve his behaviour.
Ian Fleming was the next to report. As had been the case for several of the boys, he and his wife Penny had held a discussion the previous Saturday evening following the wives’ session. Except that in Fleming’s case it had been less of a discussion and more of an argument. At one point he had told her that if she thought he was going to let her ever spank him she had another think coming, a statement that really lit the blue touch paper.
The argument had continued, with Penny demanding an apology and Fleming refusing to give it, and as a result they had slept in separate rooms.
However, he said, by the next morning he had calmed down, had thought about things more, and had duly given his wife an apology, which she had accepted. However, she had told him that an apology was not sufficient, and had ordered him to take off his belt, which she had then used to give him a thrashing for his behaviour.
“And how have things been since then?” Mrs Armstrong enquired.
“As far as I’m concerned that’s the end of it,” said Fleming. “I lost, she won, end of story.”
“Yes and no,” replied Mrs Armstrong, a frown on her face. “You are right that once you have been punished for your misdeeds that is the end of that particular matter. However, I detect from your attitude that you are neither truly contrite, nor are you accepting your wife’s authority. In my view you are in need of considerable further attitude adjustment training. If the next term at Fouettard’s was not already fully booked I would be discussing with your wife about you returning. As it is, I shall have to leave it to Mrs Fleming to persevere with you. Meanwhile, you will stay behind at the end of this session, and I warn you now that I am disposed to treat you extremely harshly.”
“But Ma’am,” Fleming protested, “I …..”
His words were abruptly curtailed by Mrs Armstrong. “Be quiet, Fleming,” she rapped; “there are no buts. You have heard my decision, which is not open to question. It is time you accepted that when I or Ms Kane or your wife make a decision, we are not asking your opinion, we are telling you how it is.”
She paused, and suddenly the anger on her face changed briefly to a wry smile. “Actually, Fleming, there is one butt, yours, and by the time I’ve finished with you, you will be acutely conscious of it. Now we must move on.”
Next to be considered was Joe Austen. Events for him had taken a rather different direction about which, on balance, he was reasonably happy. He recounted how, later the previous Saturday evening, his wife, Emma, had initiated a discussion about the events of the day, saying how much she had enjoyed it, and that she had never realised that spanking could be so enjoyable. Joe had retorted that it might have been enjoyable for her but his bottom was still sore. “Perhaps you should let me inspect it,” Emma had said but had then stated that she could best undertake this task if he was draped over her lap. Despite Joe’s protests, Emma had insisted. She then concluded that although there was a touch of pink, a deeper shade of pink would be much more attractive, and to Joe’s chagrin had proceeded to spank him again. However, his regret at her new source of pleasure was eased when, satisfied with her work, Emma had instructed him to carry her to the bedroom, where events much more to his liking had ensued.
“The same thing happened again during the week, so it seems that in order to get my needs satisfied I have to let her spank me,” he said.
“It sounds to me as though you are still thinking about yourself, Austen,” said Ms Kane matter-of-factly. “Your wife’s pleasure should always be given priority and should be uppermost in your mind. And I don’t much like this ‘let her spank me’ nonsense. If your wife decides you need a spanking then that decision is final, irrespective of what you think or want.”
Joe Austen then made a fateful mistake. “Indeed so, Ma’am, but I’ve realised that the best way of getting what I want is to do things that annoy her, so that she can then enjoy giving me a spanking, and then, well, you know….” His voice trailed off without finishing the sentence.
Almost as soon as he’d spoken he realised his mistake, and wished he’d kept his thoughts to himself.
Ms Kane was incensed. “Austen, that is selfish and appalling, and I’m sure your wife will have the good sense to very quickly see through your devious scheme. I shall certainly be speaking with her to advise a strategy that circumvents it. Meanwhile, you will be punished for your extremely naughty idea. I think a good caning is the least you deserve, and don’t imagine for one second that I will be offering you any favours afterwards.”
“Quite preposterous,” Mrs Armstrong added. “Sometimes I despair of you boys. Ms Kane was quite right to use the word devious. I really wonder if you have learned anything in your time here, Austen, which if I recall correctly was what I said to you at the end of last time and why you’ve been back here for further training. As with Fleming, I cannot accommodate you next term and must leave matters to your wife, which I am confident she is now very capable of doing. Meanwhile, you also will stay behind at the end of this session.”
So, lastly, the honour (if such it was) of making the final report of the term went to Wordsworth, fittingly perhaps because he was the only boy in the history of Fouettard’s to be enrolled for three terms. And it was a finale that contained quite a shock for everyone, except perhaps – to a degree – Mrs Armstrong.
Wordsworth stood up. Ignoring the brief report notes he had written he addressed Mrs Armstrong, requesting her indulgence as he wanted to make a statement rather than give a report on his behaviour. Heads turned towards him in surprise.
“The fact is, Ma’am, I want to thank you and Ms Kane for achieving what I have been unable to do over many years. As a result of your instruction last Saturday my wife has now agreed to spank me on a regular basis. Far from regretting that, as most of my fellow students appear to do, it is something I welcome. I am what is commonly known as a spanko. Some may find that strange, but it is a desire I have harboured for much of my life. My initial enrolment at Fouettard’s was something I engineered. My wife agreed to it as a compromise between my desire and her reluctance to engage in it herself. I have to admit that my bad behaviour was deliberate, in order to be able to continue here. So all I really wish to say is to thank both of you, Mrs Armstrong and Ms Kane, for your wonderful attention to my needs, and most of all for convincing my wife.”
Several of the other students looked at him in amazement. Yes, they had come to realise the benefits of the Academy’s straightforward, no-nonsense approach but to actually enjoy the painful punishments this included was outside their frame of reference.
Ms Kane smiled gently, shaking her head with a mixture of surprise and appreciation. “I must congratulate you, Wordsworth, on your acting ability. How you have kept up this pretence of being a genuinely naughty boy I’m not sure. I also want to congratulate you on your courage in making this statement. It is, of course, a limited environment, but to come out as you have is not something everyone is able to do. I welcome you to the world of spankos, to use your word. Whilst my prime objective in being here with Mrs Armstrong is to assist in the training that she offers, punishing naughty boys does give me great pleasure. Furthermore, I am genuinely pleased for you that you and your wife can now incorporate these activities in your marriage, and I am very confident that this will enhance your relationship.”
Mrs Armstrong then spoke. “Ms Kane has said most of what needs to be said, Wordsworth. I will admit that over the time you have been here I have had my doubts about you. Your persistent and stubborn refusal to learn led me at times to wonder if you actually enjoyed being punished, and you have made it clear that was indeed the case. Part of me is mindful to punish you here today for your dishonesty until now, but on balance it is better that I leave this to your wife.”
After a final short lecture from Mrs Armstrong, four of the boys – Wordsworth, Dickens, Wilde and Potter – were allowed to leave, while, as required, Fleming and Austen stayed behind to face the wrath of their tutors. In the circumstances, given it was the final session and there were only two boys to punish, they were each treated to a session with both women. Ms Kane stood on one side with a thick, two-tailed leather strap, while Mrs Armstrong was on the other with one of her whippiest canes. The two women alternated, one stroke each at a time, until Fleming had taken twenty-four from each of them. Austen then took his place and received the same treatment. In themselves the strapping and caning were severe punishments, but dealing alternately with the differing sensations of leather and rattan increased the boys’ ordeal. By the time it was over they were both very grateful that they would not be returning to Fouettard’s, at least in the foreseeable future.
Mrs Armstrong and Ms Kane reflected on the session. What they had heard had convinced them even more strongly that the wives’ session the previous week had been an inspired idea. They also agreed that there was at least an even chance that they had not heard the last of Dickens; whilst they did not doubt his wife’s ability or commitment to the cause, he was exactly the sort of boy who was likely to require some additional private tuition at the hands of a professional expert. For different reasons, there was a fair chance of Wordsworth seeking their further attention. It seemed the boy had an insatiable appetite that his wife might not be able to satisfy; if so, they would be glad to help out. Meanwhile, the transformation of Potter and his fiancée gave them particular satisfaction; given the starting point, the establishment of domestic discipline within their relationship was remarkable.
“How good it is to be able to make the world a better and happier place, Dana,” said Julia.
And the two women knew this was something they would go on doing long into the future.
The end.
This marks the end of UK Laureate’s ‘Fouettard’s Academy’ – a wonderfully detailed and entertaining F/M Spanking Story in four parts.
If you haven’t already, please take a moment to attach a thank-you to UKL in the comment box, as he’s shown such generosity in sharing his writing talent and imagination with us all, again and again.
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– Dana
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com
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