Prefect’s prerogative

In my fantasy I am a fag to a dashing, devious young man.

I’m responsible, among other things, for keeping his school supplies in order. I’m supposed to know his timetable, and keep his books and notes close to hand for when he needs them.

I’m also responsible for sharpening his pencils. He is an amateur artist, and has an expensive rosewood box with row upon row of pencils in every colour. I look after them for him. He likes them sharpened to a stabbing point.

When I neglect this duty, or don’t perform it to his satisfaction, he makes me light a fire in his room, and stand in front of it in just my school shirt and white socks. He takes out a red pencil and tells me to bend over, and draws six parallel lines on my exposed bottom. I have never seen whether the pencil leaves a mark, but he assures me that there’s enough red in the lines to make the next task easy for him.

He brings the pencil to my mouth, and I must take it like a horse takes the bit, but gently, without teeth.

He takes a cane out of the umbrella stand and swishes it through the air next to my head. I tremble with effort not to sink my teeth into the pencil, and also with fear of what’s to come.

He meticulously paints six perfect parallel stripes on my bottom, this time with his cane. I can’t scream without dropping the pencil, and so instead my tears flow freely, even though each time I swear to myself that I wouldn’t cry.

When it’s over, I’m shaking and sobbing, but quietly, quietly. He comes around to take the pencil from my mouth, and wordlessly inspects it for teeth marks. Only once, the first time this happened, had he found any. Then, he had caned me again – this time with no makeshift gag to muffle my cries, laying the strokes quickly, a merciless execution. I have never bit down again.

When he finds no marks on the polished wood, he briefly strokes the side of my face, and calls me a good girl.

Then I’m back to sharpening, dusting and polishing. I suspect that this isn’t the worst punishment in his arsenal, and some days I’m desperately tempted to push until I find out what else he can do to me.

14 thoughts on “Prefect’s prerogative

  • 7 January, 2010 at 12:06 pm
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    Oh, wow. This is delicious. I adore the detail with the pencils.

    Reply
  • 7 January, 2010 at 12:56 pm
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    Nicely written, and a good fantasy. The unusual employment of the pencil is a nice historical note.

    Also, a perfectly roleplayable scene, which so many aren’t; hmmm.

    ~TC

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  • 7 January, 2010 at 4:39 pm
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    I love this fantasy so much. Just the idea of painstakingly sharpening rows and rows of pencils in a expensive rosewood box is enough to get me wet, before anything else even happens…

    (Is that strange?)

    Reply
  • 7 January, 2010 at 4:40 pm
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    As far as I’m concerned, pencil fetish is completely normal!

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  • 7 January, 2010 at 6:37 pm
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    Mmmmm yummy, especially like the part about extras for making marks on the pencil!

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  • 7 January, 2010 at 8:48 pm
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    Ah, its great to be enabled.

    You know I’ve been wondering what to spend a little paypal gift I was given on and I think a beautiful pencil box is in order…

    Reply
  • 8 January, 2010 at 2:46 pm
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    Ah, the two words that get me every time… “good girl”.
    Lovely story!

    Reply
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  • 27 January, 2010 at 1:03 am
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    I love it. The image of the pencils lined up straight in the box, the straight marks from the cane, the absence of teeth marks on the pencil. Exquisite.

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  • 27 January, 2010 at 8:34 am
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    Punishment for impossible tasks have run through my head since I was just a little girl…nicely written.

    iona

    Reply

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