Fantasmia : Teachers' Torment (M+F+/FF)

[Alisonlovesropes]

Recovered from the old site

Postby Fantasmia » Mon Oct 17, 2011 6:06 am

TEACHERS TORMENT

“You can't be serious Val.â€

“Why not Sue? It'll give it a genuine period feel and sure to raise money.â€

“It's just....weird that's all weird.â€

“You wouldn't say that in the 15th century.â€

“It's not the 15th century, it's the 21st. And anyway I'm not sure any women volunteered for it 500 years ago.â€

Val and I had graduated from teacher training college at the same time and were now working in the same junior school, teaching young children before they became hideous teenagers and pre-teens. To tie in with history lessons this years summer fate was going to have a mediaeval theme and we were all landed with the problem of how to make second hand toys, books, lucky dip, a coconut shy etc look mediaeval. Charlie the music teacher was in her element getting all the keen recorder players to practice old madrigals and all the classes were keen on painting stonework on hardboard to make some of the school walls look like an ancient castle in its prime but the rest of us were rather stuck. that's when Val had her idea.

“OK.†I said “So just suppose I do for some unknown reason in a moment of hideous drunken confusion agree to a Witch Trial, just what would that involve?â€

“Oh well we get marched in front of the head master on some dias or stage in the middle of the school field, face some trumped up charges and then get our punishment.â€

“Burned at the stake or controlled drowning?†I asked facetiously.

“Well I thought about ducking but I'm not so sure.â€

“And how does it raise money?â€

“Well we charge people to operate our punishment.â€

“You mean like paying to light the fire or sponsoring us for each minute they hold our heads under water?â€

“Look I said we weren't going to be burned alive silly but I'm not sure how to charge for the ducking stool, unless it's three shots at goal and two on target drops us in the drink.â€

“So we're going to get wet then?â€

“Come on. It is mid summer Sue.â€

“Yes. an English summer.†I said sarcastically.

Well I think she must have plied me with rather more wine than I bargained for that Sunday lunch and I must have had a moment of hideous drunken confusion because by Monday morning when I met her at school again I realised I'd agreed to her hairbrained idea.

As the date of the “School Fayre†drew closer I was getting more and more worried about Val's idea. She was making quite elaborate preparations and not just for costumes: scripts, equipment, charges (both for the trial scene and for the fund raising punishments). I was beginning to get cold feet. I some ways quite literally.

the day of the Fayre arrived and at the opening ceremony with the headmaster dressed as Squire of the village two staff members were notably absent. Val and I were getting ready fpr out big moment. we were dressed in what we thought as typically mediaeval peasant woman dress, but with out the mud, fleas and bad teeth. we each wore a white frilly cotton top tightly gathered round the waist. We had long, dark ankle length skirts on and as we walked it was just possible to see that we were both barefooted under the dresses. Our outfits were topped off little lace caps held on by elastic n the seam: elastic, that well known mediaeval invention. To be honest the look was more 19th century central US planes settler than 15th century England but who but a history professor would argue.

Dave, he school caretaker, was helping us into the last of our costumes. We each were being fitted with a wooden fiddle. It is basically a long piece of wood, wider and rounded at one end so from above it looks like a plan view of a frying pan with a very fat handle. At the centre of the circular piece and at two points down the “handle†are circular holes. It comes apart into two pieces, hinged at the “pan†end and lockable at the “Handle endâ€. The hole in the circular end was closed around our necks and the two smaller holes held one wrist each so we were effectively locked with our hands one in front of the other in front of our faces.

About 20 minutes after the Fayre had opened our starring role began. The front of my fiddle was joined by chain to the back of Val's fiddle and by a chain on Val's fiddle we were led out of the school by some of the senior year children. the playground felt rough under the soles of my feet and I was quite happy when we got onto the grass of the playing field, even if the ground was baked hard underneath. we were paraded once round the field for all the visitors to see before we were brought before the Headmaster (I mean Squire) and his assistants who were sitting behind a table on a slightly raised platform (half a doszen forklift pallates).

the charges were red out. Essentially it was a list of making children sick, crops fail, chickens die and being the only two single women in the village (not quite true but the only two unmarried teachers in the school), we were the obvious suspects and we were being sentenced to the stocks.

“Do you confess your sins against God?â€

“No!†we both chorused.

“Very well. if you will not use your tongues to confess and absolve yourselves then let you be gagged for your torment.â€

Hey wait a minute I thought. Val said nothing about........â€WWweeeegggggooowww.†Both Val and I had wooden bits put between our teeth and fastened behind our necks. It was too late now and I could hardly make a big scene in front of the parents and children. I was in this for the long run gagged too it now appeared. We were then led once more around the field to the punishment stocks.

The stocks were basically a bench with a heavy vertical board in front, mounted on legs, with four holes cut into it. Like the fiddles the board was in two halves, hinged at one end and lockable at the other. Behind the bench were two backrests in the form of posts stuck into the ground. We were unchained form each other and sat on the bench then the board was opened and our ankles were put into the holes , taking great care not to get our skirts caught in the contraption. the board was then lowered and padlocked in place, and I mean LOCKED. The fiddles were unlocked and taken off our necks which was great relief not to be holding that weight up any more. The relief was only partial however as immediately our hands were pulled round behind the posts we were leaning against and tied with rope behind our backs.

I took stock of my situation. here I was in mediaeval peasant dress, sitting next to my best friend similarly dressed. We were both gagged with home made horse bits and our feet, though out of sight of us were locked in wooden stocks with our bare soles pointing straight at the gathering crowd. Then the fund raising started.

For the next 3 hours we had alternate 15 minutes of soaking at a cost of 50p for three sponges (with the sponges taken out of a bucket of water that had ice melting in it) followed by 15 minutes of foot tickling at a cost of 50p per minute per person. By the end of the freezing water it was a relief to dry out and warm up a bit. By the end of our tickle torture it was a relief to be able to breath again and cool down.

As the first sponge hit Val square in the face I heard a shrill squeak and was hit by the cold spray, first from the impact, then form her shaking her head to get the water and hair out of her eyes. The first icy sponge hit me in the middle of my chest and I felt the cold water soak through my top and run between my breasts down to my tummy. As the sponges hit some began to come to rest on my lap and the freezing water soak through eventually soaking my knickers.

After the 15 minutes were over Our tormentors came closer and began to scrape their fingernails over the soles of our feet. I could not see my feet, or Val's for that matter, but the crowds could, and they could touch as well. I was wriggling my feet trying to pull away or to cross one foot in front of the other for protection but it was all useless. The stocks were solid and we were not going t move our feet away. Our feet were also placed so far apart that I could not touch one with the other, not that it would have given me any protection, but I carried on struggling anyway.

Through the frozen torrent and the merciless tickling I began to notice a couple of trends for want of a better word. When it was sponge time it was nearly all children who through the cold soaking projectiles at us. When it was tickle time far more mums and dads joined in torturing us.

Another trend I noticed was the “Frequent attendersâ€. For example I noticed that two of the mums from my year 5 group came round to tickle my feet at least 4 times, and a mum and dad took special interest in Val's feet making several return trips and strangely their children seemed not to take that much part in the tickling compared to some.

After the last sponge was thrown and the last toe wiggled, the last finger nail scraped down our bare soles Val sat, almost hanging off the posts breathless. Two of our colleagues, Jonathan and Sara came over and removed our gags first of all giving us something to drink before untying our hands.
“Just whose idea were those gags?†I asked. I turned to see Val blushing with a mischievous grin on her face.

“We've just got to find whose got the keys.†said Sara as Val and I rubbed our wrists and exercised our jaws.

“Hmm the gags were a bit more severe than I planned.†said Val. “Did you notice those parents who kept coming back for the tickle torture.â€

“Yes. Strange wasn't it.â€

“I wonder how parents' evening will go with them.â€

Val and I laughed whilst Sara looked a little puzzled.

“Oh look. Here's Jonathan with the keys

[gaggednbarefoot]

Love the tickling, and love to tie and tickle your bare feet too