I scurried off to the car and opened the boot. All that was in there was a very small stool. Certainly not big enough to be bent over. I couldn’t be a caning stool I thought.
I looked at it wondered what use it would actually be, except for maybe small child. The stool could not have been higher than 18” high with a seat that looked about 12” by 14”.
I took it back in to Mistress and looked at her. I could only say: “Mistress?”
“It’s your naughty stool. Do you like it? We’ll keep it in the conservatory. From now on, if you annoy me in any way, you will go upstairs change into your plastic punishment pants and heaviest pvc mackintosh and then you will go to the conservatory and either sit or stand on the naughty stool. And you will keep your hands on your head at all times while on the naughty stool.
“When I am ready, I will then decide if you warrant further punishment or not. Do you understand?”
“Well let’s try it then.”
I went upstairs and put on my plastic pants and mackintosh as directed, making sure all the buttons were done, including the neck tab, and then took the stool to the conservatory. Mistress told me to stand on it. I stepped up onto the stool and placed my hands on my head and felt a little foolish as Mistress did a couple of circles around me and then she disappeared into the house.
I was left to reflect on this rather unusual and unexpected turn of events.
The conservatory, like any other conservatory at this time of the year, is quite warm so I stood there, sweat dribbling, not just down my face, but I could feel it running down and inside my arms. It couldn’t escape because this heaviest of mackintoshes had elasticated cuffs.
I wondered how I’d cope in the winter when it would be really cold. It would be freezing stood there – even with a mackintosh on.
I also thought about what punishment might follow, and whether I’d end up back on the stool to contemplate that.
My mind went everywhere during my stool time. I was excited by Mistress’ authority and this new turn of events. But my arms and back ached like mad. I went from being very excited about my predicament to feeling rather bored, very bored in fact. But my moods ebbed and flowed. At one stage I noticed the increasing aroma of warm pvc which set my mind racing. But then I wondered how much time I’d been stood there and started to fidget around.
Mistress strode back into the conservatory at the instant I was shuffling. “Who told you could move. I’ll make it plain now that when you are on the naughty chair, you have to remain still. You can get down now…”
I was relieved that was over. But my joy was short-lived.
“Let’s have you sat on the chair now. Hands on head again.”
I did as I was told. I immediately realised standing was infinitely more comfortable than sitting, knees up, hunched over with my hands on my head like that.
I must have been there no more than ten minutes when Mistress came back.
“Right, time’s up. Let’s see you bent over it now. Come on, on your knees.”
I got on all fours over the stool. I knelt over the seat which made a platform for my stomach and thrust my bottom outwards as I tucked my legs tight to the stool legs.
“Hmmm, I can fasten you arms and legs quit nicely. Okay, you can get up now. You can make me a cup of tea.”
So I wasn’t going to be thrashed at this instant. But I knew I would be over that stool at some time i nthe very near future. And I was thinkingh the stool would be too low for Mistress to use it as a punihsment stool.
On thing Mistress has enjoyed in the past is whacking me with the tawse or paddle while I’ve been on all fours in front of her while she’s been sat on the sofa. ‘Perhaps that’s what she had in mind,’ I thought and I made the tea.
Never a dull moment in our house.