KEDRICKMature

Kedrick Dalton was over his girlfriend’s knee getting a sound spanking on his bare bottom.

 

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! went Kelly’s hand on his naked posterior. The result, from Kelly MacMiche’s point of view, was a pleasingly angry shade of red. She could feel Kedrick’s reaction to what was going on – it was definitely up-periscope time!

 

Suddenly the door swung open and Professor Brown from the Chemistry department swept majestically in.

 

“Would you be quiet, please? It’s four thirty in the afternoon and your neighbours do need their sleep.”

 

He started to leave, half turned and then came back in to find Kelly’s hand still half-raised, ready to give her boyfriend another hard smack.

 

“What I meant to say was, ‘Would you be quiet, please? There’s an exam going on in there’. Should have thought a bit more about that speech, really. Cocked it up somewhat.”

 

So saying he left.

 

Kelly tutted, brushed her hair and then used the hairbrush to continue Kedrick’s spanking. She was delighted to hear him saying, “OW!” and to feel the up-periscope subside. She knew she was really hurting him now. She forced him to stay down as he tried to get up. She called him a wimp and shamed him into taking more.

 

The door flew open again and Professor Brown came back in.

 

“There’s an awful lot of spanking in here. Would you be quiet, please? There’s an exam going on in there.”

 

Kelly tutted and pushed Kedrick off her lap.

 

“Don’t you think you’d better pull your pants up?” she asked him.

 

Once he’d dressed himself he limped out of the room after his girlfriend. They left the college campus as all the killjoys there seemed to be more interested in exams than in spanking each other for some reason. They reached the old Second World War prefab with the corrugated iron roof. No-one should disturb them there.

 

Kelly’s excuse for beating the living daylights out of her boyfriend was that he was one of the English Democrat Party’s emissaries to joint conferences and fact-finding sessions with other parties and he was to visit the England First Party tomorrow and she was testing him on the fascist wording he’d need to know in order to greet them.

“What are the 14 Words?” asked Kelly.

 

“We must secure the existence of white Nazis…”

 

“No! Bend over!” cried Kelly.

 

After a prolonged beating it was time to try again.

 

“We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children,” said Kedrick and was rewarded with some red wine. This was their ritual.

 

…. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. ….

 

Polly Sawyer had been looking forward to her trip to the isle of Sharp Holme. She looked decades younger than her 67 years. Her long red hair and flirtatiously made-up eyes still melted the hearts of many a younger man. Still, she was what she was and had decided to join the local bowls club so as not to be out of touch with others of her age bracket. They all gathered excitedly in the Church Hall near the North Bay to hear the island’s owner himself address them all.

 

She was surprised to see the owner, Mr. Josso, who was immaculately dressed in black tie, smoking a big cigar in front of them all. She then noticed his amazingly elegant wife standing unsteadily in front of them all with a glass of wine in her hand, from which she was taking frequent swigs.

 

“Welcome to my island. I’m Mr. Josso, the owner of this island, and this is my wife, Manda.”

 

“Cheers,” said his wife, toasting the Chalton Range Bowls Club.

 

“I’m surprised that none of you took the trouble to check this island out,” said Mr. Josso. “Had you done so you’d have found there are in fact no facilities for bowls on this island. I’m also surprised that none of you thought to look at the date.”

 

“It’s April the First! It’s April the First!” people called out to each other aghast.

 

"April Fool," said Mr. Josso smokily.

 

“We’ve been punked!” cried the elderly lady to Polly’s left.

 

“How deliciously evil. Cheers!” said Manda Josso again as she raised her glass to all the hoaxed bowls-lovers.

 

…. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. ….

 

Polly was fuming the next morning. She was in an anti-male mood after what Mr. Josso had done to them all.

 

“The next boy who comes along, I’m going to give him such a caning,” she said.

 

Unfortunately for Kedrick, he was the boy who came round the corner next.

 

“You! Bend over, boy!” she said.

 

Kedrick did as he was bidden and Polly used her walking stick – which was only really for show – to cane the poor boy. Six of the best.

 

“Now, be off with you!” she shouted.

 

Kedrick went to get his ship to meet those sinister fascists that he was expected to be nice to for the sake of his party’s curious alliances and potential coalitions. He found the journey a bit painful.

 

“I can’t believe it,” he thought. “Seven in the morning and I’ve already got a sore arse! I can’t believe this island!”

 

…. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. ….

 

It was a short drive from the ship to Kedrick’s destination on the mainland. He arrived at the joint English Democrat / England First Party – Exploring the Similarities Co-Conference. There were some people from his party. You could tell them. They looked fairly normal. Then there were the England First Party people. They barked orders at each other, stood to attention for long periods and had sinister red armbands. They all seemed to want to speak in a fake German accent for some reason. Kedrick decided to be very English about it and pretend that he found this all quite normal.

 

“HEIL!” shouted one of the uniformed women as two others crossed axes in front of him to stop him passing.

 

“Oh, hi. I mean, Heil, yes, absolutely.”

 

“SHTOP! Ve must find you some accommodation after your long fahrt, nicht?”

 

“My long…? Oh, right, thank you.”

 

“Vot are ze 14 Vords?”

 

“We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children, old girl,” said Kedrick.

 

“JA! HEIL!” shouted the woman.

 

She consulted her list. There had been a mix-up. Everybody was to be paired up with someone of their own gender but from the other party to sleep in a twin room. However they’d thought Kedrick was a girl as they hadn’t recognized the name. He’d been paired up with one of the girls from the England First Party.

 

That evening after dinner (which had consisted of black bread, wurst, pale beer and heavy cheese around a roaring fire) Kedrick entered his room. His roommate was already waiting for him.

 

“You are two minutes late. I shall give you a beating. Bend over,” she said.

 

Kedrick couldn’t believe his luck. It used just to be Kelly; now he’d been beaten by a frighteningly attractive older lady and a sinisterly alluring German-imitator all in one day. The pleasure he felt as the girl mercilessly whacked him again and again. Wonderful it was!

 

…. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. ….

 

It had been some time since Kedrick’s visit to the England First Party. Now his party had sent him as an emissary to talk to Plaid Cymru, the Welsh nationalists. He had learned some Welsh the previous day (or rather Kelly had beaten it into him and rewarded him with wine when he’d got it right) so that he could greet these foreign folk correctly.

 

“Prynhawn da,” he’d said. “Kedrick yw f'enw i.”

 

This had gone down very well. However there’d been a mix-up: to save money they had paired everyone up in twin rooms. They decided that this could be used as an opportunity to get to know people from the other party. They had arranged for each delegate to be put in with someone from their own gender but the other party. But, whoops – no-one had realised that Kedrick was a boy and so he’d been put in with a girl.

 

“I don’t agree with this,” said his roommate. “You’ve never apologised for what King Edward did to us in 1282; you’ve never apologised for the Treachery of the Blue Books; all you English are such bastards.”

 

Without waiting to be asked Kedrick bent over and was given a good spanking by the Welsh girl. Boy, did he love dual party conferences!

 

…. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. ….

Kedrick departed the ship and travelled to his next joint conference. This time it was being held with the SNP, Scotland’s nationalist party. He was wearing a kilt with what was classified as an English tartan on it. There were talks about the SingleTransferable Vote and how rubbish unionism was and there was a discussion about the merits or demerits of NATO to tomorrow’s nation states.

Then they all had a cèilidh, drank loads of whisky and ate some haggis. Kedrick had been well-versed in everything he had to do by his sadistic girlfriend before he’d come – she’d tried to catch him out for the pleasure of being able to spank him whenever he erred and so had looked up the etiquette of the occasion down to some detail. In the evening, Kedrick knew what was coming. Yes, of course he’d be put into a twin room with some sadistic girl from the SNP. This was becoming predictable.

“Oh, hi,” said a beautiful girl with long dark hair and a lovely red tartan kilt. “I’m Catriona. Are you staying in here?”

 

“Yes,” said Kedrick waiting for her to start shouting at him about how evil the English were and give him a beating.

 

“So am I,” she said. “I thought it was supposed to be, you know, lasses with lasses and boys with boys?”

 

“I’m terribly sorry, old girl. They didn’t recognise my name as a boy’s name. Kedrick, what? Rather unusual.”

 

“Kedrick? I like that. It’s sort of like Cedric, isn’t it? Just without the “s” sound at the beginning.”

 

And she smiled. Kedrick had never come across a girl like this before. He wasn’t quite sure how to act.

 

“Oh, er, thank you, old girl. I’m sorry if, if, er, well, you know. I mean, if you want me to sleep somewhere else…”

 

“Och, don’t fash about it. They’re a bunch of numpties anyway – they made the mistake, not you. If you lie doon there and I’ll lie doon here there’s no harm in it, is there?”

 

And they got talking. Catriona told Kedrick that she liked the way he talked and she thought English people only sounded like that in films. Kedrick said he’d been thinking just the same thing about her with regards to her Scots accent. She brought out some whisky and they drank quietly and talked. He told her of the other conferences that he’d been to. As the booze loosened his tongue he told her about the spankings he’d had and that he’d quite enjoyed them and that he thought the girls had too.

 

“Is that what you like, then, people hitting you?” asked Catriona.

 

“Well, yes, I suppose I do.”

 

“D’you think maybe that’s because you don’t actually like yerself?”

 

And Kedrick began to think about how his brain worked and how those other girls’ brains had worked. He suddenly realised he hadn’t actually asked them anything about themselves. He hadn’t found out their names even. They had been close. Well, physically close. Intimate. Yes, they had but not really close close. They hadn’t really shared anything beyond the spankings. He felt really at home with Catriona. Well, more than at home. He felt something that – well, he didn’t know what it was. He just knew that he didn’t want it to be too long before he saw her again.

 

She agreed to spank him but kept asking him if she was doing it right and if it was too hard.

 

He admitted he’d loved it and asked her what she’d felt.

 

“To be honest I don’t really know. I just enjoyed it because I knew you liked it. I’ve not met anyone like you before. I think you’re fab. Now we’d best get our heads doon – we’ve to be up early tomorrow. Good night, Kedrick.”

 

So saying she gave him a kiss.

 

Kedrick tried to sleep but found he couldn’t. He listened to his new friend as she gently snored. He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened between them (although what had happened? They’d spent most of their time talking).

 

…. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. …. ….

 

Kedrick got off his ship at the West Bay. For some reason he wasn’t looking forward to telling Kelly about his encounter with Catriona. He’d told her about all the others but somehow he felt… well, something. Awkward. That was it.

 

There was a storm brewing up. A mighty one. He felt glad that he had left the boat. The rain came pouring down in a way that he had never known it before. He didn’t think the coastal path back to the South Bay would be safe. What could he do? He vaguely knew one boy – a rather silent geeky boy called Charles – whose student digs were round here. He’d have to pop round there.

 

“Er,” said Charles as he opened the door.

 

“Frightfully sorry to impose, old chap, but there’s a real rip-snorter of a storm brewing up and I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to walk back to college. Would you mind awfully if I, you know?”

 

“Er, OK,” said Charles and let Kedrick into his small room. To Kedrick’s surprise the island’s owner’s wife, Manda Josso, was in there as well. So were Professor Brown and some of his students. He seemed to be giving a lecture. Obviously they had all been caught by the storm. Kedrick felt a bit sorry for Charles. He knew that Charles didn’t really like people very much (unless they were at arm’s length at the other end of a computer). Now the poor boy was surrounded by them!

 

“Anything good happening on Facebook?” asked Kedrick, always the diplomat.

 

“Er, yeah?” answered Charles.

 

“Would you be quiet, please? There’s a tutorial going on in here,” said the professor. “Transuranic heavy elements may not be used where there is life. Medium atomic weights are available…”

 

“Cheers,” said Manda drunkenly as she drained her umpteenth glass of wine and stroked the unresponsive Charles on the back of his neck.

 

Only on Sharp Holme, thought Kedrick affectionately. He smiled.

 

But his thoughts weren’t really on the island. They were miles away across the stormy sea. He looked in his pocket. He saw Catriona’s greeting card. He’d not looked at it before. He hadn’t known her surname.

 

“TRAINEE AROMATHERAPIST CATRIONA MACMICHE – All problems can be solved by oil,” stated the card.

The End

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