Anne Darling, the scout master's wife was in the church
hall's large attic sorting through innumerable tea chests and packing
cases. It was heavy work for a slender rather elegant woman not at all
used to manual labour. Years ago, before she had married, she had been
a schoolmistress. He, her husband to be, had insisted that no wife of
his was going out to work. Her place was at home, looking after him
and the children that would inevitably come. Twelve years had passed
and in that time she had grown to realise that in all probability the
only child she would ever look after was the one she had mistakenly
married. It was a dispiriting thought but her mother had warned her
that he wasn't the right man for her, though back then he cut a
dashing figure, with his square jaw and perfect white teeth. Almost
the perfect romantic hero but of course romance wasn't really his
strong point.

In the mirror that morning, she had seen several grey hairs and under
both her eyes she had dark shadows. Where does all the time go to she
wondered? Once upon a time she had been young and all the men for
miles around had worshipped the ground she walked on. Of course men
still looked at her and she was still capable of turning heads but for
how much longer. The trouble being she was just bored with everything.
Nothing to do but tidy the house and iron her husbands shirts. He was
very particular about how his shirts were ironed. One day she thought
she would tell him exactly what he could do with his shirts.

The vicar had suggested she might like to help supervise a search
through the church hall attic with the hope something might be found
that could be sold in the next church jumble sale. Of course
typically, there was no one to be supervised and she was doing all the
searching herself, part of the price she paid for being the scout
masters wife. Still mustn't grumble at least not in public, the main
thing was to keep smiling and then no one would realise how unhappy
she really was. Most of the tea chests were full of old exercise books
and old school equipment which was unsurprising as the church hall
used to be part of a school about thirty years ago. The vicar would
be better off with a bonfire rather than a jumble sale she thought.

Then she heard a scuffling sound down below. It was puzzling because
she was sure she had locked the door, not that there was much to steal
but she was always very security conscious. Even in a cosy little
village crime was not unknown. She brushed away a dark strand of hair
away from her eyes and peered out through the attic trapdoor. Really
she should have opened the curtains because it was impossible to see
very clearly in the gloomy interior.

"Is anyone there" she called. She was not a nervous woman but she felt
her neck tingle and little prickles of fear run up her spine. She
could see the locks on the door were bolted. Her memory had not failed
her she had indeed locked the door. Yet she felt certain she was not
alone, something or someone was down there.

"It's only me." A voice answered. A boy appeared in the dim light. He
was a remarkably handsome, almost pretty looking young boy. She
recognised him at once.

"Billy Mac Bride, what are you doing here?"
"My Mum sent me. And she is very sorry couldn't come herself" he
replied. He spoke quietly. There was no hint of cockiness about him
but he had an aura of calm confidence. Of course that was no surprise
when you knew who his mother was.
"Oh Billy, that's kind of you. Come up the ladder and be careful you
don't fall," With easy grace he climbed up the steps.

"How did you get in by the way? The door was locked," she asked He
shrugged his slim shoulders. My goodness he was such a good looking
boy, with golden blonde hair just like his mother.

"The window was open round the back. It's easy enough to climb
through, although I knocked first, of course." She noticed his lips,
they were full and sensitive looking. He was just the sort of son she
would have liked herself if only things had been different. He looked
around him, taking in all the tea chests, the desks and chairs stacked
neatly in dusty piles. A pile of gymnasium equipment in one corner, an
ever growing pile of ancient text books in another corner.

"I bet you didn't realise the attic here was quite as big as this did
you? Do you want to turn that other light on Billy? I have been
working in semi darkness for the last hour"

As Billy turned the main attic light on she explained that really most
of the items there could be thrown away but anything of value could be
saved for the next church jumble sale. It was much nicer sharing the
work with someone else. He wasn't one of her husband's boy scouts
which was a definite plus point in his favour as far as she was
concerned. Fancy a man of forty three going round in that ridiculous
uniform all the time as if he was still just a boy himself. Didn't he
realise how foolish he looked with his fat podgy knees poking out of
those giant size khaki shorts. Billy wore shorts, and he looked very
nice in them. She could see him bending over one of the tea chests
sorting through a pile of ink wells

"Are they any use?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so Billy. Everyone uses a biro or fountain pen
nowadays" She smiled. He worked quickly and efficiently. Every now and
then he would ask her a question about something and almost always her
answer was invariably, no throw it away please Billy. Of course once,
long ago when she only a few years older than Billy was now, she had
been great friends with his mother. Then Billy's mother had gone to
live in Paris of all places. Imagine living in Paris. The gossips said
she had met a Frenchman, almost certainly a married one. Then one
bright summer's day she had arrived back in the village pushing a
pram. It was certainly a scandal for a while. It wasn't that unmarried
mothers were unknown in the village, it was just Billy's mothers
brazen confidence that irritated the village elders. She stayed with
her widowed mother, in a small cottage, on the outskirts of the
village. Her mother had died shortly afterwards, died of shame some
said. She didn't believe it herself and had no time for village gossip
anyway. She still saw Billy's mother and although they weren't exactly
close friends now they would sometimes have a coffee together and talk
about old times.

"What about this Mrs Darling?" Would you believe it? It was a cane. An
old fashioned school cane. He handed it to her like a knight offering
a sword to his lady. Really the boy's manners were impeccable.

"Do you know what this is for Billy?" she asked laughing. She tapped
it softly against her palm. It was a thin brown cane, nearly three
foot long and thinner than a pencil. He nodded his head, his pale skin
turned a delicate shade of pink, of course he knew what it was for.
Many years ago, when she was a schoolteacher she had often thought it
might be enjoyable to cane someone. Not that she ever had of course.

"Come on, hold your hand out you naughty boy" she joked. To her
surprise he did so. She couldn't help herself. It was as if a small
devil took hold of her and made her behave in a way that she had never
behaved before. She took careful aim and cracked the cane across his
palm. It must have stung but he never made a sound, although his lips
trembled.

"Gosh" he said, smiling. Her eyes twinkled.

"Now usually it is one on each hand Billy" slowly he held out his
other hand. What was the matter with her today? She just couldn't
resist the joy of inflicting pain. The thin cane came down across his
other palm. It made a loud thwacking sound. She could see a single fat
tear glistening on his cheek but he smiled back at her as if he was
having great fun.

"I bet that hurt?" she said.

"Not much" he lied, smiling still but rubbing both his hands on the
back of his shorts as if that would somehow ease the terrible stinging
sensation. She turned towards Billy who was still nursing his
tenderised palms.

"I am sorry Billy. I don't know what your mother would say if she knew"

"She wouldn't say anything because I wouldn't tell her" he replied in
a matter of fact sort of voice. She looked at him, they were both
laughing, as if sharing some private joke.

"You know you were lucky I only gave you a light caning on the hands.
In days gone by, boys who misbehaved had to bend over and get a proper
caning hard across there bottoms." she said, bending the cane in her
small, rather delicate looking hands. She was studying his serious
face, for some reason it made her want to reach over and give him a
hug or better still a spanking. What is wrong with me today she asked
herself really she was in a most peculiar mood.

"I wouldn't mind it if I got a proper caning" he said. She couldn't
help laughing at his solemn expression. It was like the expression the
vicar used at weddings and funerals.

"When I was a schoolteacher I had plenty of badly behaved boys in my
class whom I should have loved to have given a proper caning too. I
couldn't possibly cane a polite well behaved boy like you though Billy."

"Oh please" he said. This boy was certainly an unusual boy. Still she
had dealt with unusual boys before. In fact she considered herself
something of an expert on unusual boys, having married one.

"Well I don't know Billy. I suppose if you absolutely insist that is
what you really want but no complaining and asking me to stop half way
through. You will get a proper six of the best" she said. As soon as
she had agreed to it she regretted it. What was she thinking of. It
was a silly sort of game but somehow she couldn't help herself. It was
as if some dark and wicked spirit inside her was coming to the surface.

"Well perhaps we had better make use of one of those school desks
Billy. I think we will have it right in the centre of the room" she
instructed. Like an eager puppy he dragged the desk into the middle of
the room and stood hands by his side to await her further
instructions. She kept him waiting whilst she made a few practise cuts
with the cane. It made a satisfying swishing noise.

"Are you sure you really want this Billy?" She asked. He nodded his
head as if he didn't quite trust himself to speak.

"Right bend over the desk please. Feet slightly apart and bottom
upwards, now I warn you now, get up without my permission and I shall
take your trousers down and you will get an extra caning on your bare
bottom." Her voice had grown cold as if she had suddenly become a
different person. She rested the thin cane on the taut material of his
shorts for what seemed like an age. It was indeed a most attractive
target. Despite being a slim boy he had a round bottom which made his
blue cotton shorts look slightly too small as he bent over.

"Are you wearing any underpants Billy?" She asked.

"No I am not" he confessed. His voice sounded slightly muffled..

"Oh dear me. Well, I think you might soon begin to regret that" she
replied, she was smiling such a wicked smile.

With a swishing sound the cane landed. It cut like a whip into both
cheeks. Billy's spine rose up and he stood on tiptoe as the pain
seemed to overwhelm him. She knew she had used hardly any of the
strength of her slender arm. The next one hurt him more and he made a
little mewing sound like a cat makes when it is hungry. The third and
fourth were mere flicks of her wrist but his feet danced a little jig
of agony. She could see the tears coursing down his face. Then the
fifth was harder and caused an agonised shriek of pain to escape from
his lips. The sixth was easily the hardest stroke of all and he leapt
up and clutched his behind and began desperately to massage it. Then
he remembered he wasn't meant to get up without permission and bent
back over the desk. Alas it was too late.

"Billy what did I tell you I should do if you got up without my
permission" she asked sternly.

"You said you would take my trousers down and give me an extra caning"
he answered tearfully. He was crying now. His thin shoulders shook
with sobs but her face showed not a single sign of pity.

"Yes I did. So trousers down please Billy. Then bend back over the desk"

He tugged his tight shorts down. It was like peeling the skin from a
grape. His bottom had six evenly spaced raised pink lines on it. One
of the lines ended in a purple bruise. He bent down across the desk
without being asked to.

"Two more to come and don't you dare move." The cane was resting
lightly on the pale cheeks. The brownness of his back and thighs
contrasted with the paleness of his bottom.
Two more flicks of her wrist one quickly after the other. His face was
a mask of agony but it was all over. When he was told a minute or two
later he pulled up his shorts. She stroked his back and kissed him
gently on the cheek.

"Oh my poor Billy. Are you alright ?" She asked.
"Yes thank you Mrs Darling." He replied. "What shall I do with the cane?"

"I shall keep that and remember any time you feel like another proper
caning you know where to find me" she smiled. He was still rubbing his
behind but she could tell by the sweet look he gave her that it
wouldn't be long before he was knocking on her door. They were perfect
soul mates.

"Will you do it just as hard next time?" He asked thoughtfully.

"Next time I promise you it will be much, much harder. Now let's get
on before the vicar comes up and wonders what we have been doing all
this time"