After School Punishment
This true account of an after school punishment took place in 1971. The setting is a small mining town in the area of South Africa now known as the Limpopo Provence. There was not much to make the town stand out except for the fact it had a very large mine and its proximity to the Kruger National Park. There were three primary schools. Two of them Afrikaans speaking, the other an English speaking school. There was and still is today a dual medium high school although the ratio of language split was around 75% Afrikaans and the rest of us English speaking.
One of my many teachers was a Mrs. Amber Roux. She was a fiery auburn headed lady, around 5’ 4” in height and she was a Afrikaans language teacher and also the local country club golf captain.
The day I met her was quite an eventful day. I had been transferred from my previous school, because in my parent’s opinion, the school I attended was too liberal and a breeding ground for communists.
Needless to say I was not best pleased when after all the enrolment I walked into the class she taught and stood by her desk, politely waiting for her to acknowledge me and finish talking before I introduced myself. She looked at me as I told her my name and then waited for her reply. Mrs Roux then startled me by saying “Ahh you are Barbara’s son.”“Shit” I said inwardly as I heard those words, “how the bloody hell does she know mother”. She looked at me and smiled, “Relax kid, my husband works with your mother.”
“Great, someone else to run and tell tales to my parents, now I’ll never get any peace at home, everything I do will reach their ears and I will be in permanent shit at home.” This dialogue was muttered under my breath and silently.
I was directed to find a desk and sit down, the lesson proceeding quickly Mrs Roux an excellent teacher, her lesson lively and interesting. All too soon the bell rang and the class was dismissed for the first break of the day. As I packed my satchel I heard my name called, looking up I heard Mrs Roux asking me to remain for awhile after the class had been dismissed. I sat down with my satchel on the desk when Mrs Roux got up and walked towards me. She pulled out a chair and sat down facing me.
“Mario, I don’t know what your situation is like at home but I want you to know that I do not have to or have in the past told my students parent anything other than queries regarding their work.” I looked at her blankly, not quite getting the gist of what she was saying.
“I read your lips and I know you think that I will tell your mother what goes on in this class. I have heard that you kicked up a storm when you discovered that you were coming to this school. I am giving you fair warning that if you kick up a storm in my class I will light a bushfire on your backside with my paddle and cane. I really hope that I don’t have to, but from what I have heard about you I more than likely will. Are we clear on this?”
“Yes Ma’am, I hope you don’t have to either”.
After that initial meeting I developed quite a good relationship with Mrs Roux and it was to be several weeks later that I felt the bite of her cane. However this story is not about that event. It was the week before the July school holiday and there was a compulsory school rugby game. The senior section had to attend all home 1st team rugby matches and around half time I decided to sneak away from the game. Sods law decreed that the teacher to spot me was, yes you guessed correctly, Mrs Roux.
I had to ride past her house to get to mine and it wasn’t until I saw her in the garden that I realised she had seen me.
“Mario, why aren’t you still at school, and what are you doing dressed like that” this she said pointing at my uniform, blazer creased, my tie undone and shirt hanging out of my trousers.
“You, young man, are in big trouble, come and see me in the morning before school and we will deal with this then.”
“Yeah yeah, whatever” I said.
“I beg your pardon; did you just say “Whatever” to me? Get off your bicycle and come inside right now. I warned you about cheek and now seeing as you insist on behaving like a spoilt brat I will teach you a lesson you will not forget. You are going to get spanked like a little boy over Aunty Amber’s lap and I am going to use my big wooden hairbrush to light that bushfire I told you about.”
She turned and walked inside saying; “Now Mario! I do not have all day, be quick now, I am waiting.”
I got off my bike and followed her into the house where she directed me to her bedroom telling me to remove my clothing and to wait for her to return as she was going to send her children to their grandma while she dealt with me.
“Into the corner there, you may keep your underwear on for now” she said as with a firm SMACK on my butt she propelled me into the corner. “Do Not Move” were the final admonition as she left the room. I heard her speak on the phone and say, “I need you to watch the kids for an hour or so mom, I have a naughty pupil here in dire need of an attitude adjustment and I need to sort it out now. Yes ok and thanks mom... yes I’ll talk to you soon bye” She hung up and told her children to go over the road to their “Ouma” (Afrikaans for grandma).
A short while later she walked into the bedroom, hairbrush dangling from her right hand. I heard the sound of a chair scraping on the tiled floor and then, “Mario come here, child.”
I turned and saw Mrs Roux sat on the chair, a seemingly enormous hairbrush resting on her lap, a lap I was about to go over. I walked to where she directed me, my heart pounding, really scared now as the memory of my previous encounter with her capable right hand burned forever in my mind. All I could think about was how much it hurt and from the looks of that brush this was going to be worse.
“Asseblief Tannie, ek wil nie pak kry nie” I said in Afrikaans, (“Please aunty, I don’t want a spanking”)
“Mario, you are going to get a spanking.”
“But aunty, it is going to hurt, please don’t, I promise I will be good, please Aunty I’m begging you, don’t spank me.” Emotionally worn out, tears began to form and I started to sniffle.
“You really are scared, aren’t you, why Mario, why are you so afraid, is your behaviour at school all an act. You are the big boy at school yet here you are afraid of getting a real hiding.” She reached out and drew me closer and putting her hand under my chin lifted my face so that I had to look at her face.
“What happens at home if your parents punish you” she asked “tell me what happens. Does your mother spank you or does your dad?”
“My dad beats me with a belt”, I said. “Normally my mother will have to stop him.”
“Does he hit you on your bottom”
“Not always Ma’am... I mean aunty Amber, sometimes if he is really angry with me. He hits me on my back, my legs, wherever he can.”
“Will you get a beating when you get home tonight”
“No aunty, my mother and father are away in Portugal.”
“So if they are away, who is looking after you then”?
“My brother Graeme is in charge aunty.”
“I don’t know him, where does he go to school?”
“He doesn’t, he works on the mine, he is an apprentice at the pit”
“Ahh okay I see”
“Are you going to beat me aunty...”
“No my child, I will not beat you, I am however going to spank you on your bottom, then when I am finished I will love you and cuddle you.”
Are you still angry with me then aunty...”
“No sweetheart, I am not angry at all, however you do need to be taught a lesson. There are three reasons I am going to spank you for; firstly you need to realise you cannot go around talking to your teachers as though they are dirt, secondly you cannot go around flaunting the school rules like you did today. Thirdly you know the rules regarding wearing your uniform in public. After I spank you it will be all over, your parents will never hear about this from me and I promise you that I will never spank you when I am angry with you. Do you understand me Mario?”
“Yes ma’am I think so” I said, How are you... I mean do you want me to bend over like at school?”
“No Mario, I am not going to cane you, I am going to take you over my lap and pull down your underwear, then I am going to spank your bare bottom until I know you are sorry for what you did wrong.”
“How many spanks will you give me? I mean I know I was wrong to be cheeky to you and for cutting school and everything...”
“Mario I will spank you till you tell me you are really sorry, then I’ll stop”. With that she gently drew my unresisting form over her lap, sliding my underwear down in the process.
I lay there, my feet in the air totally carried by this stern yet loving woman, about to receive my first ever OTK spanking. I felt her hand caressing my bare butt soothing me and calming my fears. Then she spoke again.
“Tell me Mario, why are you here over my lap about to get a spanking?”
“Because I was a naughty boy aunty Amber”
“Yes but I want you to tell me what you did wrong Mario, We both know that you are naughty.”
I was cheeky and I bunked off school...
“And...”
I was disrespectful towards my school uniform aunty Amber. I really am sorry, I promise”
“I know sweetheart, let’s make sure shall we”.
With that she raised her hand and brought it down with a snap of her wrist right on my sit spot. Ten seconds later smack a second and then a third all striking the same place. The initial opening salvo was not overly hard, yet the snapping of her wrist meant that they stung and burned more than hurt. The tempo of spanking stayed at around a spank every ten seconds. After around 20 spanks I began to feel really uncomfortable and the stinging sensation intensified until I started to try and protect my burning tail. I squirmed and wriggled but aunty Amber merely drew me closer with her left hand while her right hand continued to deliver the stinging and burning spanks.
Two minutes into the spanking I started to cry for real, I still tried to escape and block her hand by reaching back with my right hand, at first aunty Amber merely ignored my hand but as I persisted she smacked it and said “Move your hand Mario”. Eventually she grabbed it and forced it up out of the way trapping me further still
I started to plead for leniency and I began to make all sorts of promises, if only the spanking would end. She merely stepped up the tempo and intensity of the spanking, branching out to ensure every bit of my bottom was an even shade of red. By now the river of tears was flowing strongly, as were the pleas for clemency. Unmoved this stern loving woman carried on, her hand must have been used to spanking because there had been no let up for around five minutes now. Finally, totally subdued I stopped fighting her and my body relaxed, I found myself pushing my butt upwards, as though to embrace and meet the spanks still raining unrelentingly. It was the sign she was waiting for, she stopped spanking allowing me to cry, saying “nearly over Mario, we are nearly there”.
I lay sobbing for the next 3 or 4 minutes as she allowed me to calm down, gently rubbing my achingly sore butt all the time. Then pushing my arms I raised myself up and turned my head towards her face and asked, “Is it over aunty?”
Her answer was to reach down and grip her hairbrush saying at the same time, twelve more with this, then we are done, head down now sweetheart.” Without a pause, giving me no time to plead or escape aunty Amber dealt out the final hardest spanks I had up till then ever felt. I howled anew at each one, less than a minute later it was all over bar the crying which continued for the next 5 minutes. Finally I stirred my eyes bloodshot, totally exhausted. Aunty Amber had true to her word stopped spanking when I showed her I had learned my lesson.
When I showed signs of recovery aunty Amber stood me up, gently covering my butt to spare me any embarrassment. She led me to her bathroom where she gently washed my face and dried my tears. I still apologised for my behaviour until Aunty Amber turned me towards her and looking into my eyes said, “I forgive you child” opening her arms at the same time hugging me to her bosom at the same time.
A half hour later we walked to the kitchen where sitting on a very soft pillow Aunty Amber earned herself my undying love and admiration by treating me to a large slice of melktert (a South African delicacy).
Mario
