The Note Home Ch. 02

[Everyone in this story is 18 or over. Those offended by bodily functions should not proceed further.]

Once more, with great affection, for Megs and Jen

Andrea Creighton had been teaching history to seniors at the high school for only a few weeks when she found herself in a conversation with Linda Steele, an English teacher who was about the same age as Andrea, but who had been at the school for three years and seemed to know her way around.

Andrea had gotten into the habit of chatting with Linda almost every day or so in the women teachers' lounge. They both had needed to get a nice cup of coffee down before facing their pupils for another day.

"I've been meaning to ask you about how I should deal with a boy in my class who is continually surly and makes nasty remarks quite frequently in my 6th period Modern History class," Andrea asked Linda. "I know I could send him to the principal, or the assistant principal, I suppose, but I get the idea that those people don't want to be bothered and actually are more likely to get annoyed with me for bothering them and not handling this myself."

Linda could see that her friend Andrea was coming close to hitting the breaking point. Discipline was quite lax at the high school and teachers who were young and attractive like Andrea and Linda would seem to be obvious targets for those pupils who wished to disrupt classes and in general, make pests of themselves.

"You know, Linda, I never thought I would say this," Andrea observed, very deliberately, "but I, as you know, spent several years at a private—we called them public but no matter—school in England where even girls still got the cane on our bare bottoms if we got out of line. Of course, now that's over and done with there, too. It surely would do some pupils here a world of good, though."

Linda nodded her agreement and began thinking that her friendship with Andrea might present more exciting possibilities. The young English teacher felt her panty crotch get wet just from Andrea's mentioning the use of the cane on her bare bottom. Linda did not even have to visualize the enticing bare bottom of her friend taking a nice hard stinging caning. She had already been able to exercise her dominant tendencies on several boyfriends and looked forward now to a fascinating exploration of this hitherto unknown side of her newer friend, Andrea.

Andrea noticed that Linda seemed to perk up when the subject of caning was mentioned. She had not liked the practice when it existed for her in reality as an always-looming threat. But she longed for the power that her teachers in England had to put a quick stop to any bad behavior in class with merely an instruction to step forward, lift your skirt or lower your trousers, and bend over for the cane on your bare bum.

"Yes, Andrea," Linda finally responded, "it's too bad that we can't do that. I think I'd even give up a week's vacation for that authority but in today's world, it's not going to happen. I do have a suggestion for you. This is a practice that also goes back a ways in this country, when teachers were a far more respected segment of the community.

"When a pupil consistently misbehaves in my class, rather than enter a failing grade in Conduct, which will only stir up today's hyper-concerned parents," Linda began, "I send a little note home to the pupil's mother, or if there is none, the father. When I was in school myself, that 'note home' as it came to be called, made even the most resistant pupils improve their attitudes."

"How do you make sure it gets there?" Andrea asked. "Today, these kids would have no compunction about just tossing your note, I would think."

"Ah," Linda smiled, "I've thought that through, too. Not only do I require that the note be returned with a signature but I use the e-mail address the school now has in the personal pupil files to which we teachers have access, so that the mother even knows to expect the note, and will make sure that appropriate steps are taken, especially if the pupil denies knowledge of it."

"Do you use a form?" Andrea inquired, still unsure about this new approach.

"Oh no," Linda grinned, confidently. "I make it very feminine and personal, using my own pale pink or light blue note-paper with my fountain pen, so that even if the mother is not one to write little lady-like notes, she will appreciate what message I am conveying and my seriousness."

"Can I try to write one right now?" Andrea quickly pleaded. "I want something to happen today to get this miserable boy back into line. Linda, let me draft it and you tell me if it gets the job done?"

Linda smiled and told Andrea she would be delighted to look at her note. Andrea took out her pen and started writing on a sheet of plain paper.

"When you've looked at this," she said, "I'll put it on the nice note-paper I have, with my good old Waterman."

Soon she handed her effort to the English teacher, feeling only slightly like a pupil herself again.

Linda looked it over carefully and grinned as she rendered her judgment to Andrea: "Andrea, this is just perfect. I will be truly surprised if it doesn't do the trick in this situation." She handed the draft back to Andrea.

Later, when she had a free hour, Andrea sat at her desk, took out her own pale green note-paper, and wrote the note to James Stephens's mother out with care:

"My Dear Mrs. Stephens,

"I am most apologetic about bothering you at all, but the behavior of your son James in my class has become intolerable. He disrupts the class, annoys other pupils, and, in general, makes a complete pest in his wasting all of our time, including his own.

"I am writing in the hope that you may take whatever steps you think are appropriate to correct this difficult situation.

"Please sign this note and have him return it to me to indicate that you have received it. I have also sent this to you by e-mail, in case James should seek to avoid delivering it to you.

"Most sincerely, "Andrea Creighton (Miss)"

Just before the end of 6th period History, Andrea called James to the front of the class. Speaking calmly to him, so that she would not be overheard, she told him she was giving him a note to take home to his mother.

"You've got to be kidding," James exclaimed, so all could hear.

"I am not," Andrea replied sternly. "And there will be consequences if this note is not delivered to her when you get home. I would strongly suggest that you do what you are told."

James gave her a look as if to say that she might as well be living on Mars, but he took the envelope and put it in his pocket.

Andrea used her next break to send an e-mail to Mrs. Stephens, telling her that she had sent a note home with James. She did not disclose the contents of the note, assuming that that would provide just the right amount of curiosity on the part of James's mother to ask her son for the note if he did not offer it up right away upon arriving home.

James was now afraid of what might happen when he got home. He knew that his mother would not take kindly to whatever the teacher had written about him. He never had anticipated that the teacher would be so bold as to write to his mother like this. Behind his façade of bravura, he was already feeling queasy about what might be his fate that very evening. What would happen if his mother decided to take this up with his father?

He looked at the note in its small green envelope. The stationery looked so feminine and yet the paper was far too thick and opaque for him to read what was inside. The fine hand of Andrea Creighton had written only the addressee's name on the front of the envelope. James knew he couldn't dare try to unseal it. He figured he had better just get ready to take whatever was coming.

That was not long in happening. James got home to find his mother and father sitting in the living room in what was, for them, an unusual posture. They were unsmiling and staring at him.

Before he could say a word, his mother put her hand out to receive what she expected him to hand over. When he did just that, his father merely said quietly, "I want to hear what stupid thing you have done this time to embarrass us with your teacher."

This was not looking good at all, James thought. He watched as their faces both became grim in appearance.

"James," his mother said, "you know that I've warned you to behave in school before. Apparently, you are worse than ever."

"Aw, ma," he replied, "this teacher is just a young stuck-up bitch. She went to school in England even though she's a Yank so she acts like she's God's gift to us."

"I don't care how she acts," his mother answered firmly. "I'm just concerned with your behavior."

Carol Stephens was in her early 40s and clearly capable of enforcing her will on her son, who resembled her in his strong sense of self if not her well-implanted attitude of responsibility.

"Get over here right now," she said, tapping her foot.

James knew he had better not test her now because the consequences would be most unwelcome. He obeyed her order and the following one to lower his pants. "And your underpants, too," Carol intoned.

James's father watched as his wife imposed the discipline. He agreed entirely with her but was always amazed at her ability to take firm action. He recalled of course that she was just as dominant in the bedroom.

"Aw, ma, don't spank me," James whined. "I'm not a little kid anymore."

Paying particular attention to James's not at all diminutive male equipment on display, Carol smiled and said, "No, you're not. So you'd better learn to start acting your age."

She patted her lap in the time-honored signal for him to lie across it. Once he had, she began spanking with hard slaps in regular rhythm. No one needed to show Carol Stephens how to spank a bad boy.

"And if I hear any more of this, James," she announced while still spanking him with emphasis, "I will have your older sister punish you here and maybe even invite this teacher to watch."

James cringed. This was becoming even more of a nightmare than he had ever imagined.

When it was over, Carol informed him that he could go to his room and get into bed. "You will go to bed early tonight, without any lights on, and without supper," she declared.

Then she sat down at her own lovely inlaid desk and began writing a note in response to the teacher's note.

"Dear Miss Creighton,

"I am most distraught that you should have felt the need to advise me of James's awful behavior. Please understand that I have taken steps per your suggestion to deal with this problem.

"I would look forward to an opportunity to discuss this matter in future should you feel that my involvement to date has not caused James's behavior to improve satisfactorily.

"My daughter Gloria is a senior who was in your class last year. I hope you will feel free to mention any further problems to her and she will let me know so I can act appropriately.

"Cordially, "/s/ Carol "Carol Stephens"

James returned to school much chastened and made sure to deliver both the signed note from Miss Creighton and his mother's response to the history teacher. She smiled as she appreciated the cause of James's new-found shyness.

James seemed to have decided to behave for at least a few days.

The next week, Miss Creighton caught him texting on his cell phone during class and held him after class to warn him about his conduct.

"Don't make me contact your mother again, James," she advised in a calm tone. The boy nodded but Andrea realized she had likely made no impression.

Later that day, she ran into his sister Gloria in the hall. Gloria was one of the school's top students and quite a popular girl as well, especially as she was a cheerleader.

"Gloria," Miss Creighton called. "Do you have a minute?"

"Yes, Miss Creighton," the tall blonde replied with a smile. "I miss your class this year—it was great."

Andrea smiled back and said, "Your mom said I should speak to you if James continued to misbehave in my class, which he has."

Gloria frowned, "That little jerk is going to get it but good. Mom was furious when he acted up so much as to require you to write to her. I'll get back to you when I tell her."

The next day, Gloria stopped by Miss Creighton's classroom. "Hi Miss Creighton," the cheery senior said. "Mom asked me to see you and invite you to stop by today, around five, is that o.k.? If I know what I think I know,"she added, "a certain boy is going to have trouble sitting...or looking you in the eye."

This was getting interesting, Andrea thought. She thanked Gloria and said she would be at their home at 5 P.M. that day.

When she walked up the path, she saw that the Stephens home was quite substantial, with Tudor touches on the front and stone facing below. She rang the bell and Gloria answered promptly.

"Oh, hello, Miss Creighton," she grinned, "do come in. Mom's waiting for you. And so is someone else..."

As Andrea walked into the spacious room—sort of a grander version of a living room—she saw Carol Stephens, at least she assumed the lady was Carol, sitting in an armless chair. On the couch next to her was James, crouched on all fours with his trousers and underpants down, and his bare bottom facing Andrea as she entered the room.

"Hello, Miss Creighton, I'm Carol Stephens and pleased to meet you," Carol said authoritatively.

"My pleasure as well," Andrea responded.

Pointing to a comfortable chair, Carol invited Andrea to sit.

"As you can see, this bad boy is in the proper position for one awaiting justly earned punishment," Carol said sternly. She picked up what Andrea realized was a small English rattan school cane.

"James, now that your teacher is here to see you disciplined for the problems you keep causing her, we will begin," Carol stated firmly.

She motioned to Gloria. The pretty senior stepped behind James's bottom and quickly inserted something in his crack, right into his anal opening.

"I understand you spent some time in school in England, Miss Creighton," Carol said with a smile. "You probably learned there about figging—what Gloria just did with James."

When Andrea nodded negatively, she went on, "No? Well, some old-time English schools used to insert a raw ginger stick anally to keep the boys or girls being punished from clenching."

Then she whispered in Andrea's ear: "It also makes them need to go potty but we will not allow that until the punishment is over."

"James," Carol announced, "you will now be disciplined for causing your teacher annoyance and embarrassing your family in the process."

She proceeded to draw back the small cane and fire six stingers, allowing time for each to be felt fully, across James's white backside. Andrea watched as the stripes appeared on his bottom and listened to him scream each time the cane swished its impact onto his bare rear.

"Mom," James pleaded, but in a low voice, "that thing Gloria stuck in...me. That thing is making me need to go."

Carol smiled and winked at Andrea.

"Very well, James," she said calmly. "You have been punished. Gloria, bring in the child's potty for James to use."

"Oh, Mom," James pleaded. "You're not going to make me use ... that thing?"

"James," Carol answered, "you're lucky I'm allowing you to have any relief at all. One more word and you'll go to bed without supper and without an opportunity to use the potty at all."

Hearing that fearsome threat, James looked at the shameful potty, crouched on it in a deep squat, winced as his striped bottom touched the bare wood, and did his business in the potty. He was then instructed to take it to empty it in the toilet. When he returned, Carol directed Gloria to wipe his rear for him, further reddening his face.

"You may now go to your room, James," Carol said.

After he left, Carol invited Andrea to join Gloria and her for a light repast. The history teacher was in a good mood after viewing the discipline and immediately accepted.

The conversation was lively and finally Carol looked at Andrea sharply and mildly said, "I assume that having gone to school in the UK, you appreciate the need for the kind of discipline I imposed today on James."

"Oh yes," Andrea responded with alacrity. "If only we could have the authority like that, I'd not need to bother you."

"Might you be interested in, shall I say, playing a bit along those lines, with Gloria and me?" Carol asked, realizing that this ploy might or might not win acceptance.

Andrea looked bemused but answered, "If you like to play and shift roles as we do, yes, I'd love to."

"Well," Carol smiled, "I'm so pleased. I'd hoped you would be interested as we are. James will be away with my husband tomorrow evening so why don't you bring your things and stay the night with Gloria and me?"

Andrea's hesitancy was gone and she signaled her delight at the invitation. This note home business, she thought, was really turning out to involve more good results than she could have possibly expected.