DREAM OF ALWYN?

BY NAP

Note: This story is a fantasy for adults only. The author utterly
condemns any form of actual abuse — physical, sexual,
psychological and emotional — to any person of any age.

Mr George Alwyn opened the door of the empty First Class
compartment. He was pleased to have it to himself. He settled
down in the corner seat and opened 'The Times'. He checked the
share prices and moved on to the cricket scores. He had more than
an hour's peace to enjoy his paper and, as his eyes felt heavy,
perhaps a snooze-

The door opened, startling Mr Alwyn and awakening him just as he
had begun to drift off. Much to Mr Alwyn's irritation, a woman
pushing two children before her entered the compartment. Mr Alwyn
scowled with annoyance. Why did she have to pick this one? And
there was no corridor on this train. Damn! He'd have to get out
and move. But as he stood, the guard's whistle blew. He was too
late. Damn and blast! The train began to move. The next stop was
nearly an hour away. Double damn and triple blast!

Despite his irritation, Mr Alwyn was well mannered enough to help
the invader to put two suitcases into the luggage rack. She was a
good-looking woman in her early thirties, he noted. He guessed
she had just collected the kids from their boarding school for
the Easter holiday as the boy and girl were dressed in a superior
kind of uniform. Both wore a royal blue blazer with a fancy crest
on the breast pocket, a white shirt and a blue, red and yellow
striped tie. The boy had a red cap and short grey trousers, while
the girl had a beret and short grey skirt. Both had knee high
grey socks and black lace up shoes. The girl was about ten or
eleven and the boy a year or two younger. They were good looking
pair he had to admit. Both had blue eyes and blond hair. The
boy's was so fair as to be almost white and longer than the
traditionalist Mr Alwyn really approved of, but, apart from this
and his surprisingly full lips, the lad was characteristically
boyish. His face was more or less rectangular with regular
features and a scattering of light freckles. The girl's hair was
more golden and swept down below her shoulders. Her face was
heart shaped with high, fine cheekbones, a small nose and mouth
and a delicate, dimpled, pointed chin. The good looks of the
children were rather spoiled by their facial expressions. The
girl appeared stubborn and petulant, and the boy sulky and
furtive. The elderly gentleman took dim view of this kind of
childish attitude.

The children squabbled in a desultory fashion. Their mother told
them off. Mr Alwyn returned to his paper, but was distracted by
seeing from the corner of his eye the boy sneakily aim a kick at
his sister who rather less craftily kicked him back.

"Berengaria! Ranulf!" snapped their mother.

Bloody silly names, Mr George Alwyn thought to himself, rather
unreasonably.

"He started it," whinged Berengaria.

"She pulled a face at me."

"He stuck his tongue out."

"For goodness sake — behave," said their mother wearily.

Little brats! Mr Alwyn thought. Modern mothers! Why in his day-
He returned to the sports pages. The kids bickered indistinctly
at the other end of the compartment. His eyes grew heavier. He
dozed gently.

"Right! That is it!"

The sharp words shouted by the mother shook him awake. He glanced
across irritably, annoyed at having been interrupted a second
time from his snooze. The two children were looking startled.
Scared, even.

"I'm just about sick of you two," said their mother, angrily. She
reached over and hauled Ranulf to his feet by the lapels of his
blazer. Next second, it was off his shoulders.

"Mum, I didn't mean it," he protested apprehensively.

"I am not interested," his mother stated flatly. She undid the
buttons at the waist of his shorts and slid down the zip. Mr
Alwyn's interest quickened. It looked like the little lad was
going to get a well-deserved spanking. He hoped the girl might
get one as well. And on her knickers! The woman seemed suddenly
to remember the other adult in the compartment. She looked across
at him and paused with her son's zip halfway down. Damn! Mr Alwyn
thought, the brat was going to get off.

"I always spank my children bare," she explained. "I hope you
don't mind Mr- er-"

"Alwyn. George Alwyn," he introduced himself courteously. "Not at
all, madam," he smiled. "By all means spank them as bare as you
please."

"Thank you," she said politely. "I'm Imogen Merrill, by the way."
She briefly let go of Ranulf's shorts and stretched across to
shake hands civilly. A mischievous smile played across her pretty
lips and her eyes glinted. "If you really mean as bare as I
like-" she chuckled.

Berengaria picked up the meaning quicker than Mr Alwyn. "Oh,
Mummy, no! Not bare naked!" she cried in alarm.

Imogen Merrill's cheery face darkened like a cloud hiding the
sun. "Silence, Berengaria. The only words I want to hear from you
two for a long time are 'Ow!' and 'Ouch!'" She returned her
attention to her son, finished unzipping his fly and tugged down
his shorts. She started to un-knot his tie. She smiled across at
Mr Alwyn again. "If you'd like to start undressing Berengaria,
please do."

"Eh! What?" Mr Alwyn said hesitantly, startled into disbelief by
the extraordinary invitation. "Are you sure? I mean- Dash it all!
She's a girl!"

"Yes," grinned Imogen Merrill, "that should become ever more
evident as you continue."

Mr Alwyn may have been startled, but he was quick to recover. He
wasn't going to miss this chance by being too diffident. "Come
here, child," he instructed sternly.

"No!" Berengaria retorted rebelliously, huddling defensively into
her corner.

"She's an obstinate little brat," acknowledged her mother coolly,
"so you'll have to force her. Don't mind about being a bit rough;
she's tougher than she appears."

Mr Alwyn stood and approached Berengaria. As he drew near, she
lashed out with her foot and kicked him hard on his knee. "Damn!"
grunted Mr Alwyn, but he'd taken a few knocks on the sports field
in his younger days and continued to advance. Berengaria screwed
up her normally pretty features in a snarl of hate and scratched
and spat like a cornered cat, but Mr Alwyn grasped her slim
wrists to contain her. She twisted her head and bit his hand with
perfect white teeth. "Bloody brat!" gasped Mr Alwyn, but kept his
grip.

"I warned you," Imogen Merrill said complacently. "Turn her over
and spank her for a bit; she'll soon decide to do as she's told."

Mr Alwyn followed these instructions as best he could. Berengaria
continued to struggle like a captured wildcat, but his superior
weight and strength was bound to overwhelm her. Nonetheless, by
the time he had the young girl stretched out face down along the
seat he was breathless — and not only from exertion! He glanced
across at Imogen who was making better progress with Ranulf. She
had his shirt and tie off, leaving him only a vest on his top
half. His mother suddenly slapped the side of his left thigh for
no reason Mr Alwyn could detect, as the boy appeared compliant.

"Ow!" complained the boy.

"I'll give you 'Ow'," she said slapping him hard again in the
same place. "You are going to get plenty more like that before
we've finished with you. I think they're much too easy on you at
that school of yours. I can see we're going to have to make up
for it," she promised as she smacked him again.

Mr Alwyn noted the plural "we" with satisfaction and turned his
attention back to Berengaria. She still struggled, but, stretched
out as she was along the seat, with her arms twisted at the
elbows and her wrists pinned to her back by Mr Alwyn's left hand,
there was little she could do beyond kicking her legs from the
knee. Mr Alwyn stretched out his right hand and flipped back her
short grey skirt to reveal her white cotton knickers.

"Get off me you horrid old man!" Berengaria screamed recklessly.

"I afraid she's not very respectful," Imogen Merrill said
apologetically, "but I'm sure we shall teach her some proper
manners before we're finished."

Mr Alwyn smiled. He looked down at Berengaria's bottom. It was
surprisingly well developed for what he had thought of as a
dainty girl. He remembered the force of her fight against him and
noted the tapering fullness of her thighs below her plumply
round, prominent bum that tightly stretched the white cotton seat
of her knickers. She was sturdier than he'd realised and, as her
mother had said, tougher than she looked. He reached down and
gripped the elastic waist of her panties.

"Mummy!" Berengaria screeched, panic stricken, "Don't let him
take down my knickers. Pleeease!"

"Don't be silly, Berengaria," her mother said calmly. "Mr Alwyn
is going to do a lot more than that before we've finished with
you."

"No, you beast! No! No! Nooo!" Berengaria shrieked hysterically,
kicking and struggling wildly as Mr Alwyn slipped her panties
down over the hump of her bottom.

"Oh do be quiet Berengaria," Mrs Merrill said crossly, "you're
going to have plenty of reasons to bawl your head off later. Just
like your little brother here," she added as she bent down to
unlace Ranulf's shoe. The boy, who certainly seemed a lot more
docile than his sister, bent his knee and lifted his foot so his
mother could remove it. She did so, but slapped the front of his
thigh anyway.

Mr Alwyn's attention was rather more taken up with the revelation
of pale cheeks of Berengaria's bum, which still trembled slightly
from her squirming struggles. Mr Alwyn raised his hand and
brought it down sharply. He felt a satisfactory sting in his own
palm and knew the smart would be significantly greater in the
girl's bottom. The red imprint of his hand stood out on the white
skin. He repeated the smack, though a slightly different, angle.
The overlapping, area glowed a darker, hotter red. He carried on
spanking. Berengaria squealed and squeaked trying to twist her
hips to wriggle her bottom away from the repeated impact with Mr
Alwyn's heavy hand, but she was helpless to avoid the
hard-hitting punishment. Shock waves rippled through the plump
mounds of flesh across her bottom and down to her thighs.

"Ow! Ouch! Stop! Ow! Stop it!"

"Are you going to keep still while I undress you?" demanded Mr
Alwyn.

"No!"

Mr Alwyn lifted his hand higher and brought it down hard and
fast. He was gratified to see the red patch deepen and extend.

"Yeeouch!" Berengaria yelled. He continued spanking. She
continued yelling. Eventually she screamed, "Stop it! No more!
I'll be good!"

"Are you sure? You'll stand still while I undress you?"

"Yes, yes! Anything! Whatever you want, honest!"

Mr Alwyn gave her another couple of spanks and then released her
wrists to let her up from the seat. She rose, sniffing and
rubbing her bottom. Next second, she launched a furious assault
on Mr Alwyn, head down, hands and feet flailing. Her shoes hacked
his shins. Her fists pummelled his chest. Her head butted his
waistcoat. He recoiled under the attack and, as the backs of his
legs met the opposite seat, he overbalanced backwards and sat
down heavily. Berengaria, carried away by her aggression,
sprawled across him. Mr Alwyn was quick witted enough to take
immediate advantage of the girl's fall and pinned her down across
his thighs.

"You can't believe a word the little liar says," Imogen Merrill
commented heartlessly.

Berengaria struggled with the ferocity of desperation as she
realised she was well and truly out of the hot fat fryer and into
the furnace. Mr Alwyn had to struggle to constrain the rampaging
child across his legs, but she was already at a disadvantage and
he was, after all, a grown man, so it was not long before he had
her pinned down again, though this time her bottom was bent
across his thighs and her legs free to thresh about. Mr Alwyn
still had plenty of room for a good swing, and as he was annoyed
at her deception, he took full advantage of their respective
positions to give the little girl's bottom a very sound spanking.
He took his time, pausing between the smacks, not only so the
Berengaria should feel their full effect, but also so that he
could watch how things were progressing between Ranulf and his
mother.

Imogen had taken off her son's other shoe and both socks,
slapping his legs again as she did so. The lad was now in his
white vest and underpants, and with his shorts bunched around his
knees, but now that the obstacle of his footwear had been
removed, his mother pulled off his shorts to leave him in his
underwear. But not for long. She whisked his vest over his
tousled head and then slipped his underpants down his legs to his
ankles, where he co-operatively stepped out of them.

Mr Alwyn perused the pale-skinned young body. From the back, the
boy looked like perfect specimen. From the thick mane of
silvery-blond hair at the nape of his neck, his spine flowed in a
concave curve to the jutting, finely moulded mound of his bottom.
Below the overhang of this, the strong thighs, marked red from
maternal slaps, narrowed to the knee and then the fine calves
curved to his ankles. Mr Alwyn wished he could see the
good-looking lad from the front. As if by telepathy, Imogen
Merrill turned her son around to face him. He saw the boy's face
blush at this exposure, though his eyes took in his sister's
painful predicament with a sly smile. Mr Alwyn saw the small
boy's strong shoulders, solid chest and almost flat stomach.
Below this dangled an obviously immature penis. But for all it
was not yet fully grown, it was nonetheless remarkably long for a
child of his years. The brat probably didn't yet know what he'd
got, thought Mr Alwyn, but in a few years with his good looks and
fine physique, he'd be very popular with the girls. And those who
would be lucky enough to find what he kept in his pants would get
a bonus!

But for now, he was just a little boy about to have his bare
bottom spanked by his angry mum. She put him over her lap,
arranging him so that his groin was pressed against her right
thigh and his bottom bent across it. He was small enough for his
arms and legs to hang down on either side without reaching the
floor. Mrs Merrill patted his compact cheeks as if in affection.
Then she raised her fine-fingered hand high, and brought it down
hard. Her fingerprints marked the right buttock and that of her
palm reddened the left. She kept on spanking. Soon the marks of
the individual spanks merged under the barrage of blows to make
the boy's bottom a deep blotchy red. He soon began to cry out and
wriggle desperately. His legs waved as wildly as his sister's. Mr
Alwyn could see his balls jogging and jostling in their little
sac between his scissoring thighs. The high-pitched squeals of
the girl and boy mingled against the background rattle of the
train.

Imogen Merrill paused from spanking her son. "I think you may
find Berengaria is ready to co-operate now, Mr Alwyn," she
suggested.

"Ah, yes," he replied. He had actually forgotten just why he was
spanking the girl.

"Well," he demanded of the bent head of the little girl, "are you
going to do as you're told and let me undress you?"

"Yes, yes," Berengaria wailed. "Just stop spanking me!"

Mr Alwyn allowed her up, cautiously watching for any sign of a
counter-attack, but Berengaria just jigged from foot to foot
howling and holding her bottom. She looked reasonably decent from
the front, apart from her knickers around her knees, as her skirt
had fallen back into place. She didn't look quite as pretty as
she had, what with her blubbering mouth, twisted, tearstained
face and the dribble of snot that leaked from her left nostril.
Mr Alwyn pulled her towards him and felt in her blazer pocket. He
took out a small handkerchief printed with pictures of bunny
rabbits. "Blow your nose and wipe your eyes," he instructed. She
obeyed and looked a bit better, though she still sobbed wetly.
Her beret had long since fallen off in the tumult and strands of
her hair that had escaped her Alice band stuck to her damp
features. She looked a poor sad thing and he felt a momentary
pity. But then he made up his mind to delay no longer.

Mr Alwyn unbuttoned Berengaria's blazer and slipped it from her
narrow shoulders. He decided to remove Dher shoes just in case
her submissive mood changed and she became mutinous, but she
appeared to be tamed. Next, he undid her tie and began to
unbutton her shirt. He had already noticed she had two small
bumps of budding breasts pressing against the material. She
meekly went along with the removal of this. Perhaps the
continuing sound of smacks to her brother's bottom and his shrill
cries of reaction persuaded her not to make a fuss. Like her
brother, she was wearing a vest under her school shirt. He
slipped it up over her head and Berengaria compliantly raised her
arms to assist its removal. She was not wearing a bra. Her hands
twitched to protect the girlish mounds of unripe flesh at her
chest, but then realising the futility of resistance dropped them
to her sides. They were a pretty little pair of tits, Mr Alwyn
mused, studying Berengaria's early development without a thought
for her own feelings.

Mrs Merrill stopped spanking Ranulf and pushed him from her lap.
He jigged around the compartment, crying loudly and complaining
of his sore bottom, which he tenderly rubbed with both hands.
Berengaria forgot her own troubles long enough to turn her head
and enjoy her brother's suffering. But then Mr Alwyn's hands were
at her skirt, unbuttoning the waist and sliding down the zip.
"Ooowooh!" Berengaria sobbed as this final shield of her decency
fell around her feet.

Mr Alwyn looked long and hard at the young girl's revealed body.
Her white knickers were still twisted around her knees, but
otherwise she was naked. Mr Alwyn reckoned it would not be too
long before she had great little figure, but what he now saw were
the — quite literally — bare beginnings. Her miniature breasts
gave a little shape to her upper body and her waist was starting
to narrow, though her tummy was still childishly rounded. This
was partly countered by the visible recent broadening of her hips
giving her a slightly more adolescent appearance. The mount of
Venus was prominent and the genital cleft long and bulging, and,
still being completely hairless, was consequently very
conspicuous. Mr Alwyn stretched out his hand and tugged the
child's knickers free of her legs and, his concentration on the
girl, absent-mindedly put them aside.

So, Mr Alwyn thought, Ranulf had been stripped and spanked and
Berengaria had been spanked and stripped. It had been an
entertaining ten minutes or so. He was sorry it was over. But
Imogen Merrill was speaking:

"Would you like to take on Ranulf while I continue to deal with
Berengaria?"

"Uh? Oh! Yes."

So the girl went to her mother and the boy passed across to Mr
Alwyn. Neither seemed happy with the prospect. Mr Alwyn arranged
Ranulf across his legs. He heard a loud smack chased by a shrill
cry to show that Mrs Merrill had already started on Berengaria.
He raised his own had and spanked Ranulf with similar effect. The
boy's bottom felt a bit different from his sister's. It was
smaller and firmer. More muscle and less fat, Mr Alwyn surmised
as he continued spanking the compact cheeks. Both children were
yelling loudly now. Mr Alwyn looked across at where Berengaria
was spread over her mum's lap. She was throwing her legs around
in a most abandoned manner. The view was charmingly intimate,
thought Mr Alwyn.

Eventually Mrs Merrill stopped her spanking and Mr Alwyn
followed. The children, still naked, were put at either end of
the carriage looking out of the window while they loudly cried.
The two adults discussed the modern lack of discipline with
regret. The train sped on and, as time passed, the children's
tears dried up.

Mrs Merrill had a bright idea.

"Turn around," she told her children. When the naked pair faced
into the compartment, they saw she was pulling two envelopes from
her handbag. Their faces showed anxiety and dismay. "Their end of
term reports," Mrs Merrill enlightened Mr Alwyn. Let's see if
they're any better than last time. Hm, Berengaria: 'Insolent',
'Disobedient', 'Berengaria's conduct and attitude have shown no
improvement'. Now for Ranulf: 'Lazy', 'Dishonest', 'Ranulf
continues to show none of the qualities expected by this
school'." Mrs Merrill finished reading. "Nothing there to be
proud of there," she commented grimly. Then she turned to Mr
Alwyn. "Would you be kind enough to fetch down that suitcase?"

Mr Alwyn obliged. The children looked even more apprehensive. Mrs
Merrill opened it and rummaged though Berengaria's clothes until
she found a pair of black plimsolls. She took these out and
closed the case, which Mr Alwyn returned to the rack. By now the
children looked definitely fearful. She handed one of the canvas
topped, rubber soled slippers to Mr Alwyn. "No need for our hands
to be as sore as their bottoms," she said with a smile."

Mr Alwyn took the proffered gym shoe and smacked it lightly
against his palm. It stung just as much as he remembered from his
own distant boyhood. He imagined what it would feel like when
forcefully applied to an already sore bare bottom of a child.

"Berengaria! You kneel on this seat. Ranulf! You kneel on that
one facing the other way." Reluctantly the children moved to
their appointed positions. Mr Alwyn watched curiously as Mrs
Merrill went to the two piles of discarded clothing and selected
a tie from each. She handed one to him and asked graciously,
"Which one would you like to have a go at first?"

"I'll go back to Berengaria," he offered, wondering what the ties
were for. Mrs Merrill could hardly be suggesting they beat the
children with them, as they were much too flimsy to sting.

"Hands behind your heads, children," Mrs Merrill ordered.
Berengaria and Ranulf must have been in this position before as
they immediately understood and bent their arms at the elbows so
that their doubled arms stuck out in front either side of their
chins with their wrists behind their necks. Imogen moved behind
Berengaria and wrapped the tie tightly around her wrists before
knotting it. Mr Alwyn followed her example and secured Ranulf's
hands.

"Heads right down and bottoms right up; you both know the way!
Higher than that, Berengaria! Unless you want extra. That's
better. Now stay like that while we whack you," their mother
instructed.

The children awkwardly assumed the position. Their heads and arms
were pressed against the cushioned seat with their backs arched
inwards so that their stretched young bottoms pointed up at an
angle. It was a very humiliating and uncomfortable pose, and one
designed to stretch the skin and so maximise the sting of the
slipper. It was also a defenceless one, as, balanced as they
were, they could not dodge and with their hands tied, they had no
chance of protecting themselves. "We'll have to stand close by
their sides so that they don't topple off," he suggested.

"Yes," she agreed. And then without apparent irony, "We don't
want them hurting themselves."

Mr Alwyn moved alongside Berengaria's hips facing towards her
feet and Mrs Merrill did the same with Ranulf. "How about we give
them six each and then swap," she proposed and Mr Alwyn grunted
his agreement.

"Oh please, please, sir, don't slipper me too hard," Berengaria
beseeched tearfully.

"Pay no attention to her, Mr Alwyn," Mrs Merrill recommended
heartlessly, "as I told you earlier — and as you'll have found
out — she's tougher than she looks. Still, at least her manners
have improved."

Berengaria wailed more loudly as her appeal for mercy was turned
down, and Ranulf joined in, in anticipation of painful punishment
to come.

"Oh, stop your caterwauling at least until we've given you
something to bawl about," Mrs Merrill said in hard-hearted
exasperation. With these words, she raised her right arm high and
swung the slipper to crack loudly against her son's taut
buttocks.

"Aeeeiouch!" Ranulf screeched enthusiastically.

Mr Alwyn, not wishing to be left behind, roundly whacked
Berengaria's tensely twitching cheeks in a matching manner with
much the same effect. The adult pair continued their steady
beating of the children's bottoms while the kids continued to
screech at every solid slap of the slipper. When six sound swats
had been delivered, they swapped over and Mr Alwyn set to work on
Ranulf's crimson buttocks. He yelled loudly, but not as much as
his sister as now that her mother had charge of her Berengaria's
shrill shrieks increased in volume and rose in pitch to a
piercing intensity. Clearly, Mrs Merrill was showing no mercy
where her daughter was concerned.

After this batch of six whacks was completed there was a pause,
but only while Mrs Merrill said, "OK, Mr Alwyn, let's turn them
over for the second half."

Second half! Mr Alwyn was astonished — he thought they'd already
had two halves. So, it seemed, did the kids who howled protests
and pleas as they were grabbed by their arms and legs and dumped
on their backs — still, of course, with their hands tied behind
their necks, making resistance impossible. Mr Alwyn looked
towards the children's mother to see what she had in mind so he
could follow her lead. Mrs Merrill hooked her right arm behind
the crook of Berengaria's knees pushed her legs right back until
the fronts of the wailing girl's knees were around her ears. So,
that was the idea! George Alwyn put his own arm behind the naked
boy's legs and tipped him right back as in his sister's example.
The little lad's substantial penis flopped back to point at his
belly button in obedience to the law of gravity. The position was
horribly exposed for the poor bare boy. His flushed tearful face
looked out over his small sac of balls between his thighs. The
skin of his sturdy bottom cheeks was tightly stretched and
between the solid little buttocks peeked the puckered ring of his
bum hole. But Imogen Merrill was already walloping little
Berengaria so Mr Alwyn wasted no more time in contemplation, but
picked up the gym slipper and whacked Ranulf's upturned bum hard.
Five more times George Alwyn swatted the little lad's stitched
bottom while he yelled loudly in chorus with his sister on the
other seat. When the full half dozen had been delivered to each
child, Mrs Merrill said, "Right, Mr Always, we'll change places
again for the final set of six. Mr Alwyn now took charge of
Berengaria and Mrs Merrill her son. Naturally, without the
pressure of the adult holding them in position, both children's
legs had dropped back along the seat, so Mr Merrill had the
pleasure of heaving the little girl's knees back to her golden
hair. Like her brother, her red, tear drenched face looked back
between her thighs, but here were only her lower lips, slightly
parted by her stretched legs. But if her face was red, it was
nothing compared with her bum, which glowed a dark crimson. But
Mr Alwyn knew by now to show no mercy. He swung the slipper hard
and once again, the compartment echoed with the sound of childish
screams punctuated by ringing cracks of solid rubber on inflamed
young flesh.

Now the physical punishment was over, but their mother again made
the bawling naked children stand, with their hands still bound,
at either end of the compartment facing out of the window, their
bottoms on display while she and Mr Alwyn talked of this and
that. But the physical effort and emotional excitement had taken
their toll on the elderly gentleman and soon, despite the noisy
crying, he felt his eyelids droop and again he dozed.

Mr Alwyn awoke suddenly.

"But Mummy, I have to have them," Berengaria was saying urgently.

Both children were dressed and no longer bound. In fact, Ranulf
was knotting his tie under his collar. Neither child was crying
any more, but both were red-eyed.

"Then you'd better find them," Mrs Merrill said.

"But I've looked," Berengaria said desperately. "They are not
anywhere."

"Then you'll just have to go without," answered her mother. "They
must have been put into the case by mistake when I put away the
plimsolls. I am certainly not opening it again."

"But I can't walk about with no knickers on," protested
Berengaria.

"You can and you will, my girl," replied her mother impatiently.
"And if I have any more nonsense from you I will lift up your
skirt and spank you right along the platform when we leave the
train."

"Ooh!" moaned Berengaria, but stopped complaining about her
missing underwear.

The train drew into the station and stopped. "Well thank you so
much for your assistance, Mr Alwyn," Mrs Merrill said with a
polite smile, "We'll leave you in peace now and you can enjoy
your snooze." The family disembarked and walked away along the
platform. Mr Alwyn glanced at his watch — another forty minutes
until he reached his station. He settled himself down for another
sleep.

The train rattling over some points awoke him with a start. He
looked groggily around the empty compartment. It was almost as if
the Merrill family had never been there. It was strange to think
of the drama that had unfolded there this afternoon. He rubbed
his bleary eyes. The whole episode had been bizarre. That a
mother should enlist the aid of an elderly stranger to denude and
severely spank her children — and one a girl at that! It had all
been very enjoyable at the time, but now somehow not quite real.
Had it really happened? His right palm still tingled, it was
true, but he had slept with his wrist bent and it could be 'pins
and needles'. He wiped his forehead to try to clear his fuzzy
brain. The memory seemed hazy, almost like a dream. A dream —
surely not — and yet the whole episode was now so incredible. His
train drew into his station. Reluctantly, he began to acknowledge
to himself that he must have had a particularly vivid and
remarkable dream. He stepped from the carriage and began to walk
along the platform. A passing train stirred up dust and wafted it
into his nostrils. He sneezed and felt into his pocket for his
handkerchief. He blew his nose. A passing woman looked at him
oddly — a mixture of amusement and disapproval. He realised his
hankie seemed not quite right — too small, the wrong shape. He
looked down.

He had just blown his nose on a schoolgirl's brief white
knickers!