Sunday Boy

By Verity

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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'...and you have consistently neglected to prepare the work I have given you, you have repeatedly come late to the classes, and you are a disgrace to us all in your general behaviour. Some of this I could perhaps overlook, but yesterday I heard you say a WORD that you are most certainly not allowed to use, and which I will not repeat, also -'

'But, Miss, I couldn't help it. What I said was -'

'Silence!' Miss Truffle, assistant Sunday School teacher, held up her hand. ''I heard what you said quite clearly. And you know what you're going to get for that, Lucas, don't you?'

Lucas Tripping, blond, tumble-haired, twelve years old, and normally cheerful, looked increasingly apprehensive, standing on the wooden floor of the church hall in front of his teacher.

'But, Miss - '

'I said I don't want to hear any more, Lucas.' The teacher pulled the boy to her, then briskly started to unfasten his trousers. The other children watched tensely, but unsurprised. Miss Truffle, though one of the youngest assistants, invariably enforced the Sunday School's strict standards, and in particular did not tolerate any form of bad language.

As for Lucas, he came out in goose-pimples all over. It would be the first time that Miss Truffle had punished him on his bottom, and he cringed with mortification as he felt her continuing to unbutton his trousers, then skinning both his his trousers and underpants down his legs. Face flaming, he frantically clutched the lower edge of his tee-shirt and vest, pulling them down hard over his thighs.

'No, Miss!'

'I told you to be quiet,' snapped. Miss Truffle 'And there's no point in pulling your clothes down, Lucas, because everything's coming right up in a minute.'

'Ellen!' Miss Truffle called one of the older girls over, then she grasped both of Lucas's hands and held them tight.

'Pull Lucas's clothes up for me, please, Ellen. Right up. And don't be shy about it. A naughty boy needs to be punished on the proper place.'

In fact Ellen did not seem at all shy, and grabbing Lucas's clothes pushed them tight up under his armpits. The twelve-year-old boy, with all eyes on him, had never felt so bare in his life, and burst into tears.

The teacher was unsympathetic. 'Save your tears until you are getting a red-hot bottom.' Swiftly she pulled the boy tummy-down over her lap and, without further ado, her palm started cracking down hard and repeatedly, landing all over the youngster's madly squirming rear cheeks, so that in a moment he was bouncing, kicking, and yelling at the top of his voice. After just a dozen or so smacks, with the culprit's quivering bottom-skin already turning bright red, Miss Truffle paused for a moment and, slightly breathlessly, told her pupil Ellen to pull the boy's pants off completely, which she quickly did, dropping them on a chair. Another dozen or so vigorous smacks followed, with the youngster’s long legs, now freed, spinning and thrashing as if he was doing the Australian crawl, and his noise rising to a crescendo.

The teacher finally finished the spanking, but continued to keep the boy over her lap and to hold up his clothes. Getting her breath back, she said, 'Very well, Lucas, wriggle the soreness away.'

This was one of her peculiarities. The culprit, still near-nude, had to squirm and wriggle over her knee for some time following the spanking. The naughty kid usually found this even more embarrassing than the spanking – though it made the others giggle – but Miss Truffle always insisted, or there would be yet more bottom-smacks, and very hard ones. So the unfortunate Lucas, sobbing but anxious to get it over with, started energetically jiggling his hot bottom around on Miss Truffles knees as instructed, writhing, bumping his body up and down, turning and twisting from side to side, kicking his legs and flinging his feet in the air.

'Wriggle harder,' instructed the teacher sharply, 'and twist more, and further round.'

Reluctantly Lucas obeyed, and at last Miss Truffle was satisfied and Lucas was allowed to get up.

'You can give him his pants back,' said Miss Truffle to Ellen as Lucas, still crying, stood rubbing his stinging bottom. Miss Truffle rose. 'I will be back in a few minutes, and you are in charge until then, Ella. Please tell me if you have any problems.'

That was something else. After she had given a bare-bottom spanking, the teacher always left the room for a time, coming back in due course slightly flushed, but with an odd sparkle in her eye.

Lucas was in due course to discover the solution to this small mystery...

Lucas was one of three children; he had a younger sister, Polly, aged 11, and a brother aged 14, Pierre. To the disgust of all three, their parents still employed a 'sitter' for the evenings when they were out. The youngsters were even more scandalised to learn in due course that, due to a number of changes, their new sitter was to be Miss Truffle.

Lucas in particular protested, but had some difficulty in explaining why. Telling about his recent spanking would simply have led to further trouble for him, since explanations would have been demanded.

Still, things do not always turn out as expected. Miss Truffle the Sunday-school teacher and Jessica Truffle, the sitter, seemed almost like two different people. Out of her teacherly clothes, it was clear that Jessica was just a teenager herself, perhaps just about sixteen, also she was the most relaxed and indulgent sitter that the children had ever had. Immersed in her own studies, she did not seem especially bothered about what time the children went to bed, or how much TV they watched, as long as they didn't make too much noise, or disturb her.

It was on Jessica's third evening session, around bed-time, that she said. 'Now, I've been told that you two boys have to have a shower tonight. But don't worry – I'm not going to supervise you! Indeed, I won't need to come into the bathroom at all, just so long as you are quiet and don't cause any disturbance. But don't lock the door – just in case.'

Normally, the boys' mother supervised their evening shower. Tonight, after only a few minutes, the unusual freedom was just too much for them. Scarcely had the bathroom door closed than the two naked youngsters were tumbling and wrestling, deluging one another with the shower hose, throwing sponges, sliding up and down on the long bathroom floor, splashing, yelling, shrieking.

In due course Jessica, exasperated, threw down her books and burst angrily into the bathroom, and into a scene of chaos, with pools of soapy water and towels on the floor, a bottle of shampoo discharging its contents on the bathmat, together with soaking-wet clothes, a discarded loofah, and saturated sponges scattered hither and thither.

'So!'

The two youngsters had rushed to get behind the shower curtain, but Lucas was not quick enough. Jessica grasped his arm and marched him out into the living-room. 'Stay right there while I fetch a towel,' she ordered.

Jessica went into the next room and rummaged in a cupboard, while little sister Polly giggled helplessly to see the pink-cheeked twelve-year-old standing nude on the carpet.

Jessica returned and vigorously dried Lucas all over, and was not all bashful about towelling his most sensitive spots, disregarding his squeals.

'And as soon as you've been dried, Lucas,' she said crossly, 'I'm going to turn you over and thoroughly warm your bottom, and also your brother's, since I see I can't trust either of you to behave yourself even for five minutes when my back is turned.'

'But, Jessica -'

'Not a word, Lucas, or you'll get extra!'

After being dried, Lucas was walked across to the living-room sofa, spread face-down across Jessica's knees, then her firm palm cracked down resoundingly some dozen times on the youngster's writhing, bouncing bottom-cheeks, while he thrashed and yelled on her lap. At last, when released, Lucas was made to stand with his face to the wall. It was not quite so severe a spanking as the one he had received in Sunday School, but his bottom still stung and his eyes prickled.

Immediately Jessica went back into the bathroom, and pulled out the naked 14-year-old. Pierre made no resistance, having been a member of Jessica's class in the past, and being somewhat in awe of her. Jessica again made him wait on the carpet while she went into another room and found a dry towel, then dried him even more diligently than she had Lucas, ignoring his yells. Then he too was taken to the sofa and turned over Jessica's lap.

'Give him lots,' grinned Polly, who was greatly enjoying seeing her nude brothers being spanked. 'Make his naughty botty RED.'

'Go to your room at once, Pollyanna,' snapped Jessica angrily, and the 11-year-old had no choice but to obey. Then Pierre's bare legs were kicking as he too received his hard dozen, plus several more.

When the spanking was finished, Jessica continued to hold him down, and said, 'Very well, Pierre, wriggle the soreness away. And today you must do it for a good long time.'

Pierre remembered all this very well from Sunday School, and his nude gymnastics over Jessica's lap appeared fully satisfactory to her. Finally he was released, and the two naked young culprits stood rubbing their bottoms as Jessica told them, 'I'm going now to have my own shower. You can put on your pyjamas and, if you wish, watch TV. If you can sit down, that is.'

She vanished into the bathroom. The youngsters got into their pyjamas but, instead of going to the TV, Pierre hissed in an undertone, 'Ssh, don't say anything, but come over here and I'll show you a secret.'

He pulled two chairs out from the table and pushed them across to the opposite wall, adjacent to the bathroom. ''Now', he said, 'You stand on one and I'll stand on another.'

First, though, he put the room's lights out. Pierre's 'secret' was that, some time ago when an attractive young sitter was looking after them, he had removed a metal plate from a wall ventilator, with the result that peering through the grille gave a clear view into the shower area of the bathroom. With the bathroom brightly lit and the living room in darkness, it would be almost impossible for someone in the shower to see watchers on the other side of the grille.

The two youngsters both cautiously applied their faces to the grille, and both gasped.

Jessica, her back to them, was nude, but not yet in the shower. Instead, standing on the bathmat, she had a hand down in front of herself, her arm furiously working, and her hips jerking rapidly back and forth and from side to side, and to the accompaniment of muffled cries, oohs and aahs that rapidly grew in volume as her movements became ever more frenetic. Then, all at once, her buttocks clenched convulsively, she rose on her toes and pulled a towel hard into her face to muffle a loud shriek – then, her hand still working, she convulsed and shrieked again... and again..

After which, as if nothing unusual had happened, Jessica steeped into the shower, pulled the curtain, and the water began to run.

'Wow, some SHOW!' breathed Pierre.

Lucas said nothing, but he too let out a long, deep breath. There was no question about it. The small mystery had finally been solved.

(The End)