Telling the truth…

Telling Miss Miller the truth.

It was a Friday afternoon, I was home alone. My fingers tapped at the keyboard rapidly, right hand shaking as I hit send.

“What the hell was I thinking”

I thought to myself as my hands gripped at my face, slightly squeezing my own cheeks like a grandmother would with her grandchildren. Slamming the laptop shut the chair screeched as I pushed it back across the cold tiles. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, not so much now. My heart pounded a little in my chest as I busied myself with the mountain of dishes that were pilled up in the sink.

“Stupid stupid girl” I scolded as the sponge spun around the plate furiously in my right hand. The left placing each item into the drainer and preparing the next one for ferocious anxious scrubbing.

I had the house to clean, I would do that today, I did not want to concentrate on my Apple Watch, my phone or my laptop. I was dreading any messages that would come through, I mean for fucks sake, it was 20 years ago since I left school. I was 36 what the hell would Miss Miller give a shit if I had lied to her or not when I was a kid. Surely she would not be annoyed about it. I don’t know. I do however know that I had this compelling urge to tell her.

It was 9 pm, the house now spotless, I find myself getting into bed earlier then normal. I am getting tired, the anxious energy must have worn me out. Placing on my bedtime pyjama shorts I then scoot my hair back into a pony tail, loose so that it does not give me a headache.

Heading to the bathroom, I smile at myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth, my stupidity makes myself laugh sometimes.

I am thin in stature but my stripy top seems to make me look wider then what I am, I am conscious of this so therefore hurry back to my wardrobe to get a plain T shirt on. “Better” I think as I check myself out in the mirror one last time before I get my small arse into bed.

As I lie down I hear it, the dreaded ping.

My heart pounds as I sit up, placing the pillow behind my head I use my arms to slide myself backwards.

The gentle thud of my heart pounds in my ears, the phone in my right hand. 1 message received.

Miss Miller, same name as she had when she was my teacher 20 years ago, she was young back then, so she must only be in her 40 s now. If I remember right she was only ten years older when she was teaching. So she was 26 when I was 16. She will now be 46, I am 36.

I re-read what I sent to her before I pluck up the courage to read what she has replied.

“Hello Miss Miller, I do not know if you will remember me or not but you used to teach me English. I was wondering if you had time for me to talk to you over the phone or in person? Or over messenger back and to, or email, or whatever suits you Miss.”

I cringed as I read what I had sent, I was 36 and I was still referring to my teacher as Miss.

My heart skipped a beat, her reply waking me from my drowsiness.

“If you have time to talk now then this is something I can accommodate over messenger, I remember you very well Lucy, how is it that I may help you?” I hope that you are OK, following all of the difficulties that you had with your family growing up, I did the best I could at the time as a teacher to help you. I have often thought about you over the years and am really proud of you for getting on with life even though you had all of the difficulties to deal with.”

Bang, a pang of guilt hit me, then another and another as I read her reply. She had not put me in detention for not doing homework, or after school detentions for “struggling with work” as I had told her that I was being bullied at home by my parents and she had not wanted to make my home life difficult, so she had let me off, again and again and again. Maybe telling her the truth was not the best thing to do in the world. Maybe it was. She had even handed me money which she could have gotten into trouble for as I told her that I was not eating properly and that I was hungry. She would give me money for food at least 2 times a week. I felt like an awful person.

Before I could think about it my hands had started to type.

“Ah, to be honest I wanted to come clean, I am contacting you about that, it was all lies, every single thing I told you was a lie to make you feel sorry for me. And now I feel awful and felt that if I told you then I would feel better you knowing the truth.” Sounds stupid I know all these years later but for some reason the guilt from my lies kept popping up in my head time and time again.

I held my breath as the 2 little ticks showed that the message had been read, then, “typing”.

“Are you free on Saturday at 09:00?”

Short and to the point. I thought as I read the message again and again. Was she going to invite me round for tea? Bury the hatchet? Remove my guilt?

“Er… Yes I can be Miss Miller, what did you want to meet for coffee?”

My hands trembled as I watched the “Typing” Icon on my phone.

“ No Lucy, I want you to meet me outside your old school, at 09:00am sharp, don’t be late. The school has been closed down for a year and I own the property so we should not be disturbed.”

I felt some what small as I read the message over and over again. Saturday was tomorrow.

“Shit, I thought to myself as I pulled the covers over myself.”

I started to type as I lay on my side. I was a little nervous as to why she wanted to meet me in this location.

“Miss, can I ask why you want to meet me at my old school? I am a little confused?”

The blue ticks verified to me that the message had been read, scenarios swirled around in my head. We’re we going to revisit memories? Almost nostalgic. Or were we just going to chat about old times? Or was she going to put me in detention.

I laughed to myself as the thought swirled around in my head, 36 year old women sat in detention for something that she did 20 years ago. Maybe she just wants to show me around the school.

“To be completely honest with you, I want to take you back to your old classroom. You can explain to me in detail what exactly it was that you lied to me about.?”

My heart felt a little fluttery as I read and then re-read the message.

“Why what are you going to do put me in detention” I asked with a laughing emoji. Semi serious, semi testing the water. I felt guilty. I wanted to remove the guilt, did I really want to give up a Saturday sat in my old school. In detention?

“It depends if I think you deserve it, or something worse, I have got from 09:00 am until 15:00, so I will see you at 09:00 sharp.”

I was shocked at the reply, “really?” Was she really wanting to put me in detention? Surely she had to be joking. It would be more like community payback at my age then detention. Placing my phone on the bedside Cabernet I turned on my side. I thought back to my teachers smiling face, how kind she had been to me back then, how understanding and patient. Yet it had all been a horrible lie.I had been a horrible lie. How much money had I taken from her? How much had she given me, it was a weekly amount because I was “Hungry” and had no food to eat.

As I lay turning myself onto my back I realised just how much of a complete and utter lying manipulative bitch i had been. I deserved a lot more then detention. Maybe i could pay her back all of the money that I owe her? Maybe she would forgive me? Maybe I should give up my Saturday and spend all day in detention. Maybe it was a stupid idea of me to message her and I should just continue to live with the guilt. Let that guilt eat me up like it has been doing for the last 20 years.

I awoke to sunlight coming in through the crack in the curtains. “Shit” I whispered to myself. I grappled at my phone, 07:00 am. Sliding out of bed I found myself in the wardrobe. Looking for something nice to wear. I wanted to make sure I looked presentable, I mean I had not seen Miss Miller for 20 years and I did not want her thinking that I had grown up not looking after myself.

I pulled on my jeans, they were tight but a comfortable tight, not a tight were there is fat rolls that go over the side of my jeans tight. It is amazing, even if you are skinny, there are jeans that squeeze you like an ice pop. Placing on a nice chequered shirt I laughed at my own joke, the image of a women squeezed into tight jeans with a little head and loads of fat pushed up around her neck seemed to stick in my mind.

As I got down the wooden staircase into the kitchen the lights automatically flicked on, I shouted at Alexa to turn on my kettle. It roared into action, the little blue light flickering as the water boiled itself almost instantly.

I had not done bad for myself. Since leaving school I had got myself into the world of finances and stock markets. I work from home 5 days a week trading on the markets, it took me a good ten years of fuck ups to be able to read them properly, but now I am at a stage were I understand them to a point were I have made a sustainable income from the markets and more so. My car is paid for, my house is paid for in full and so is my house, also kitted out with all of the electronically gadgets you could wish for. Ok maybe I don’t need them all but they are what you could wish for. I work hard so I deserve this life style.

Also it make me feel less alone in the world, as so far there has been no man or women who I have felt compatible enough with, to live a life of full content and happiness.

The toothpaste cleared the coffee breath, soon I was completely minty fresh. I didn’t know why I wanted to make such a good impression for my old teacher but I did. Was it because I didn’t want her to be mad with me. It seemed like she was.

A few short minutes later a slight flutter in my stomach made me stop as I turned the key in the front door. A weird thought entered my head. Closing my eyes I shook my head as if to try and get rid of the thought.

My head lights lit up my old school sign. Ryles park high school… I turned them off, it was now daytime. The sign unkept, mossy.

One car sat alone in the car park, a red Nissan duke. Stood by the side of it, a 5 foot 8 ish lady dressed in a pair of black trousers and a white shirt with a black waist jacket. She also had her high heels on. With her id badge, the lanyard reading “Ryles Park High School” around the outside. What she used to wear when I was at the school and she was my teacher.

I pulled my car 2 spaces away from Mrs Millers, there was a fluttery feeling in my stomach that made me feel a little woozy. Mrs Miller stood with her arms folded staring at me as I got myself out of the car. As the door clanged shut I pressed the central locking, the hazards making me aware that the vehicle had secured itself.

Smiling a walked over to Mrs Miller. She was stern in her facial expressions and her body language was not warm nor inviting like it had been when I had been a child.

“Hi, I guess, I don’t really know what to say” Shyly I looked at my ex teacher, still stood there stern.

“I think you said enough, for now, over message. Well, you know were your old classroom is, off you go!” Mrs Millers voice was sharp and stern, my insides flopped around as I put my head down and walked towards the double doors at the far end of the car-park. It was 20 years ago since I last walked across this playground/car park. Yet I felt like I had never left.

The wooden door felt cold against my hand as I pushed it open. Stepping inside I held the door open for Miss Miller. Thank-you, She said calmly as she stepped through the door herself. The room felt slightly damp and old, but there was still chairs and tables in the same places they were years previous. In addition to this the white board was still up and so was my place were I used to sit, in the front seat, centre and facing the whiteboard. The long ceiling lights flickered into life following a loud click. Mrs Miller pointed to my old seat as I turned to face her, “Sit” she demanded.

I smiled at her and stood still for a second, thinking she was joking.

“Do not make me ask you twice mrs Murphy.” I suddenly felt small again and scurried over to the small chair were I had sat 20 years previous.

“Yes, miss, sorry miss.” I found myself answering as I tucked my chair in and looked straight in front of me at the white board.

Mrs Miller took her jacket off and she placed it on the back of her chair as she had done years ago. She then rolled up her white cuffs exposing her small yet powerful looking forearms.

Taking the white board eraser from her top drawer she turned her back on me and wiped the board clean. I jumped as miss miller slammed the eraser down on the table. “Now Lucy, Today we shall be learning about how to tell the truth, how not telling the truth has consequences, and we shall then discuss those consequences. Not only that but we shall also discuss how our lies can effect other peoples life’s and what the greater effect is. Do you understand?”

“Yes miss” I replied, wringing my fingers together as the white board marker squeaked against the cold surface of the board.

Lesson 1. Telling the truth.

The green capital letters seemed to scream at me as I sat on my chair in silence.

“So Lucy, when someone tells the truth what do they need to do?”

My chest felt tight and my heart I felt speed up as I looked back at mrs Miller who was staring directly at me, and seemed to be enjoying this.

“They need to not lie, and tell factually what has happened, miss.”

“Good, well done Lucy, Now Lucy the fact that you know right from wrong is good, but it also means you consciously choose to Lie to me for years! And Lucy, that has to have consequences, because the fact that I gave you my own money to help you when you were ‘Hungry’ and the fact that I let you off with so many punishments for not doing homework or for turning up late, is not acceptable. The fact that I lay in bed at night worrying about you, is not acceptable.”

Mrs Miller turned and put a tick beside Lesson 1.

The white board marker squeaked as she wrote, Lesson 2. Consequences.

I felt a slight flutter in my stomach. Consequences could mean so many things. Fines, detention, scolding. So many things.

Circling the word consequences Mrs Miller then asked me what consequences people face for there behaviour, or what it is that they should face.

The word “Spanking” entered my head, and stayed there.

“Well?” She asked sternly.

“Erm”, I rubbed the back of my neck nervously before I began to carefully word my answer.

“Miss, to be honest I could say all the things, like fines, detention and scolding, lines etc.” But as an adult, a consenting adult. I don’t think them things would be adequate punishment for what I have done and how I feel. I deserve to hurt how you hurt. Maybe, er, you could smack me, like they used to do in the old days.”

Miss Miller smiled as they words fell out of my mouth in a trembly shaker way.

“Well, Lucy, I appreciate your honesty in this situation. And I completely agree.

The pen squeaked as Miss wrote on the board.

“Consequences, legs smacked, bottom smacked.”

My stomach flipped over as I read the board over and over again. Yet at the same time my groin felt a little tingle, and slightly warm.

“Consequence 1, for lying”

Miss then left a space to write under and dropped down to the next piece of writing.

“Consequence 2, for accepting money from a lie that you fabricated, also known as fraud.”

I jumped as Miss Miller slammed down the pen.

“So, Lucy, what do you think the first consequence for lying in general should be?!”

I put my head down, I felt awful, guilt tore through my body. A memory popped in my head from when my mum had smacked the back of each leg once for trying to run across the road in front of cars. I remembered clearly how much that hurt and every time I cross the road that memory is there, making me check twice.

“You should smack my legs miss” the words were somewhat hard to get out as it felt so weird asking another adult to smack my legs. But I felt like I deserved nothing less, even the awkward embarrassment was deserved.

“I agree Lucy, I am thinking 1 for each lie you have told me, which was at least one a month over 5 years, which would be 60 slaps. Now, stand up and walk over to the front desk.

I tried to stand but my legs wobbled and I found myself sat back down again.

“NOW” I jumped out of my seat and ran over to Miss Miller as she pointed to were she wanted me to stand.

Miss miller took my wrist and turned my body to face the desk, so I was facing the whiteboard and my back to what would have been 20 years ago my class mates. I placed my hands on the desk, my heart pounding in my chest as miss millers sweet perfume entered my nostrils. She was a kind hearted women I knew this. So I was hoping that the punishment would not be to harsh.

I breathed in shallowly and let out a small moan as the first sharp smack landed right in between my bottom and were the knee bends at the back of my thigh. I gritted my teeth as the second sharp blow hit the same spot. “Three” I counted in my head, my bottom lip quivering slightly as the fourth blow hit the same spot.

“Why are you being punished Lucy” Miss Miller asked calmly.

The sharp slaps in the same spot consistent and not stopping, each one making me gasp, I felt a tear run down my face as I answered. “For lying miss”

“Smack” I cried out and bent my body forwards to get away as the 30th slap landed on the same leg in the same place over my jeans.

“Smack” Miss Miller moved over the my right leg and started her consistent 30 swots. “Smack, gasp” My left leg stung and my right one was beginning to sting. “Smack” 21 I counted in my head.

“Why are you being punished Lucy?”

“Smack” 24 I counted in my head. “For lying Miss Miller, Smack” My body arched back and my head tilted backwards as Miss Miller continued to strike me again and again on the back of my right leg. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I allowed myself to cry.

Miss Miller stopped as the 30th slap landed on the back of my leg.

“Trousers down Lucy, you will receive the last 30 slaps on the bear legs and over my knee like the badly behaved lying women you are.”

My hands trembled and adrenaline raced through my body as Miss Miller pulled her chair across the floor and sat on it at an angle.

“Trousers down NOW” I jumped as my hands fumbled with the trouser button and zip. My legs stung as I pulled the trousers down over the back of the red handprints that had now formed. My white knickers the only thing protecting my dignity.

I turned to Miss Miller and breathed in deeply as she pointed to her lap, she was a well worked out lady and her legs were tight and muscly. I bent myself over her lap so that my legs were exposed and I placed my hands flat on the floor. My groin and body dropped over her somewhat comforted me.

I Yelled out as slap number 31 battered down on the already red raw leg. I found myself sobbing as the slaps came hard and fast on the back of my legs. Again and again I yelled out as Miss Miller hit me harder and harder until I had counted to 60 in my head.

“Trousers up” Miss miller demanded as I reached down and pulled them back up, I winced as they seemed to scrape across my sore legs.

“Go and sit down” Miss Miller pointed to my chair, her tone had softened slightly.

I wiped the tears from my eyes as my body trembled, mainly from the adrenaline racing through my veins.

“Now Lucy, for the big one, fraud, I mean should I call the police?”

Miss millers eyes looked sad as she said it, sad and disappointed.

“No miss miller, I am sorry Miss Miller.” I looked down at my desk, my hands still trembling.

“Then Lucy what do you think we should do.”

I looked across to my teacher, she was a beautiful women, even though she was angry with me and was punishing me. “She really wants me to actually say it doesn’t she”

“I think you should tell me how much I owe you and I will pay you back, then you can strap my hands, and…” I hesitated for a moment as the words struggled to exit my mouth.

“Well, Lucy?” Came the voice from across the room.

“You should spank me, because I am pathetic” I replied.

Miss Miller walked over to me and halted in front of my desk. Taking a hold of my right wrist she turned it so my knuckles were facing upwards and slapped the back of my hand with her palm. I cried out as the strikes came down hard and fast in 3 slaps.

As she let go I cradled the right hand with my left. “Don’t you ever let me hear you talk about yourself as being pathetic ever again do you understand Lucy”

“Yes Miss Miller” I replied as I burst into tears.

Miss Miller came and sat on the edge of my table and placed her soft loving arms around my head pulling me into her she comforted me as I wept. No one had ever told me that I was not useless before. It was a deep held belief system. Yet here Miss Miller was, changing that and caring.

“Shh, its ok” she whispered stroking my hair. Closing my eyes I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke with a start. I was still in the classroom. “Shit” I wiped my eyes and looked up at a blurry Miss Miller reading a book in her teachers seat.

“I am sorry Miss” I whispered as I glanced at the clock on the wall. I had been asleep for 2 hours it was now 11:30.

Miss Miller smiled kindly. “Not to worry Lucy. You have had an emotional morning and that’s ok. I will give you a minute to wake and then we can continue with your much deserved punishment.”

“Yes Miss Miller.” My hands wringed almost on there own as I looked down at my lap.

“Now whilst you have been asleep, I figured out how much you owe me in total. I gave you about £5 a week which totals at £300 over the course of five years.”

It was not much, I found myself thinking as my eyes kept looking up and then back down at the desk then back at Miss Miller. I could afford to give away about £1000 a day and I would still have more then enough money to pay all of my bills and enjoy my life. But I knew that it was not the amount of the money, it was the principal of the situation, I had lied and manipulated my way through school, gained a kind hearted persons trust and took there money by playing with there feelings.

“Now” Miss Miller continued. “I do not want you to pay me back, however you will be punished. 5 straps on each hand with the belt for every £100 that you owe me, then you will receive 10 strokes with a horse whip across the bottom for every £100 that you took from me. And finally because I am disappointed in you you will received 1 stroke with the horse whip across the front of your upper legs per every £50 you stole from me.”

As the words horse whip and legs exited mrs millers mouth I placed my hands on top of my thighs as if to protect them from what was just about the come.

“Now stand up and come over to the front of the desk.”

My legs wobbled as I stood up, almost buckling my hands reached for the table to help straighten myself. Miss miller started to unbuckle her belt, I felt a warm feeling in my groin as I watched her pull it out of the loops and begin to wrap it around one of her hands, leaving a short but and whip-y section.

Turning to face were the class would have been sat I held out my right hand upon the instruction of miss miller. “Crack” I yelled out as the belt left a whelt across my palm. She was not holding back.

“Crack” two miss.

“Crack” three Miss.

“Crack” I yelled out and shouted “Five Miss” as the fifth one left another angry red whelt. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I kept my shaking palm still whilst the punishment continued.

“Twelve Miss” I screamed as the belt hit the same spot again. Moving my palm I rubbed it against my leg I could not take anymore.

“Hand out now!” Miss miller warned.

Reluctantly I put my shaking and extremely sore hand out.

“15 Miss” I tucked my hand into my body and sobbed.

I didn’t like this, but I knew that I deserved every single stroke I was getting and more.

My left hand throbbed just as much as the right as I cradled both of my hands into my body. I deserved to be punished. I know this. I felt a slight shift in the long held guilt that I felt about taking Miss Miller for granted. It was starting to lift, starting to move.

Miss Miller watched me as I sobbed for a minute.

“Okay honey” she said softly as she pulled out a chair.

“Take down your trousers and sit on this chair please.”

She said softly as she pointed to the wooden backed teachers chair. The backs of my legs stung as I pulled the trousers over the red marks, my hands stung as I pushed the jeans over my knees. The leather of the seat felt slightly soothing against the back of my legs as I sat down. “Both hands on the bottom of your shirt and I want you to pull the shirt back so it exposes the tops of your thighs properly.” Miss Miller said softly as she opened the drawer to her desk and pulled out a long and fierce looking riding crop.

“Before you punish me anymore Miss Miller. I want you to know that I am really sorry for everything that I have done and that I deserve everything you are doing to me. I promise that I will never do anything like this to anyone ever again.”

Miss Miller leant forwards and took my head in her hands before kissing me gently on the forehead.

“I know you are Lucy, and I care about you. This is why I am taking my time out to punish you.”

At that Miss Miller took a step back and she lined up the riding crop with the top of the front of my legs. I gripped my shirt tightly and closed my eyes. I heard the swoosh of the crop and screamed as the whip brushed passed my hands and caught the very top of my thighs. The pain was that intense that I began to cry again, tears streamed down my face as I kept a tight hold of my shirt.

“Crack, FOUR MISS” I yelled as my legs jerked up into my body.

“Crack, FIVE MISS”

“Crack, SIX MISS” I wrapped my arms around my legs and sobbed and sobbed as the six red welts which were almost immediately brushing and raising showed on the front of my upper thighs.

Miss Miller placed the whip on the table and asked me pull up my trousers.

I placed my hands on the wooden desk in front of me. 20 years ago I had not realised that I would be bent over this desk.

“Now Lucy, you will receive the first 10 strokes over the top of your jeans, and you will count them off, I am warning you now, I will be laying these on thick”

I gulped and breathed in deeply as I took a tight hold of the wooden desk. Miss Millers left hand on my back reassured me that she was there, but made me nervous at the same time.

Air expelled from my body and I let out a loud squeal as the first stroke bit into the middle of my jeans, the red whelt I could feel immediately raising under my clothes, visible in my mind, allowing my head to drop. “One” I whispered before waiting.

“Crack” the sound seemed to rickshay around the room as I yelled out in almost agony. My body involuntarily jerking forwards, my right leg lifted to try and shake off the pain.

Taking a second to get my breath, my eyes rested on the door to the classroom, the door that I had come in and out of time and time again. “Two” I whispered.

“Crack, Ten” Feeling a little weak my head dipped and I let my shoulders droop as I caught my breath. The pain slowly subsiding but the warm sensation were each welt was beginning to raise still there, strong and vibrant.

Miss Miller placed her arm around me and kissed my cheek.

“Your doing really well Lucy. Now, drop your trousers please”

At this request tears streamed down my face and my eyes met Miss Millers, pleading with her.

“Please Miss Miller, please” My eyes studied her face as I pleaded, looking for some hope of forgiveness in there.

“Crack” The shock took my by surprise and i began to sob as the whip lashed across the tops of the back of my thighs.

“Do not make me ask you again!” Miss Miller said sternly as she pointed towards me with the riding crop.

“Yes Miss” I whispered as my fingers fumbled for the button on my trousers.

My hands shook as I placed them back onto the desk. My trousers now round my ankles, my knickers covering the red and tender flesh.

“Crack” I took a huge breath in as the whip seemed to dig deep into my flesh. Bouncing up and down on my heels In an attempt to shake away the pain but it would not go that easily.

“Crack, Two” The words hardly left my mouth when a third and fourth strike hit the same spot. Tears were streaming down my cheeks and my breath was hard to control in-between the sobs.

“Crack, Ten!” I yelled. It was strike 20 but Miss miller had asked me to count up to 30 in sections of ten. And I was in no position to be arguing with her. I knew that every emotion and every hit I received I deserved, but it did not make it any less painful. My body shook as I stayed in position waiting for Miss Millers next instruction.

That night I lay in a cool bath, trying to take away the burning sensation from the back of my legs, and my bottom. The last ten strokes had had me screaming out in agony after each one. However I stayed in position and I took every single lash that was presented to me. Why? Because I deserved it, and because I lie here in this bath, now completely guilt free.

Clean, warm and dry I climb into bed, No television, computer, phone nor going out with friends this month. I am officially banned from doing these things. As I lie on my side, I smile to myself. Miss millers arm wraps around me tight, and she kisses the back of my head. Her hand strokes the back of mine, as my eyes get heavy, eventually falling into a deep sleep.