DREAM OF ALWYN?

BY NAP

Note: This story is a fantasy for adults only. The author utterly condemns any form of actual abuse — physical, sexual, psychological and emotional — to any person of any age.

Mr George Alwyn opened the door of the empty First Class compartment. He was pleased to have it to himself. He settled down in the corner seat and opened 'The Times'. He checked the share prices and moved on to the cricket scores. He had more than an hour's peace to enjoy his paper and, as his eyes felt heavy, perhaps a snooze-

The door opened, startling Mr Alwyn and awakening him just as he had begun to drift off. Much to Mr Alwyn's irritation, a woman pushing two children before her entered the compartment. Mr Alwyn scowled with annoyance. Why did she have to pick this one? And there was no corridor on this train. Damn! He'd have to get out and move. But as he stood, the guard's whistle blew. He was too late. Damn and blast! The train began to move. The next stop was nearly an hour away. Double damn and triple blast!

Despite his irritation, Mr Alwyn was well mannered enough to help the invader to put two suitcases into the luggage rack. She was a good-looking woman in her early thirties, he noted. He guessed she had just collected the kids from their boarding school for the Easter holiday as the boy and girl were dressed in a superior kind of uniform. Both wore a royal blue blazer with a fancy crest on the breast pocket, a white shirt and a blue, red and yellow striped tie. The boy had a red cap and short grey trousers, while the girl had a beret and short grey skirt. Both had knee high grey socks and black lace up shoes. The girl was about ten or eleven and the boy a year or two younger. They were good looking pair he had to admit. Both had blue eyes and blond hair. The boy's was so fair as to be almost white and longer than the traditionalist Mr Alwyn really approved of, but, apart from this and his surprisingly full lips, the lad was characteristically boyish. His face was more or less rectangular with regular features and a scattering of light freckles. The girl's hair was more golden and swept down below her shoulders. Her face was heart shaped with high, fine cheekbones, a small nose and mouth and a delicate, dimpled, pointed chin. The good looks of the children were rather spoiled by their facial expressions. The girl appeared stubborn and petulant, and the boy sulky and furtive. The elderly gentleman took dim view of this kind of childish attitude.

The children squabbled in a desultory fashion. Their mother told them off. Mr Alwyn returned to his paper, but was distracted by seeing from the corner of his eye the boy sneakily aim a kick at his sister who rather less craftily kicked him back.

"Berengaria! Ranulf!" snapped their mother

Bloody silly names, Mr George Alwyn thought to himself, rather unreasonably.

"He started it," whinged Berengaria.

"She pulled a face at me."

"He stuck his tongue out."

"For goodness sake — behave," said their mother wearily.

Little brats! Mr Alwyn thought. Modern mothers! Why in his day- He returned to the sports pages. The kids bickered indistinctly at the other end of the compartment. His eyes grew heavier. He dozed gently.

"Right! That is it!"

The sharp words shouted by the mother shook him awake. He glanced across irritably, annoyed at having been interrupted a second time from his snooze. The two children were looking startled. Scared, even.

"I'm just about sick of you two," said their mother, angrily. She reached over and hauled Ranulf to his feet by the lapels of his blazer. Next second, it was off his shoulders.

"Mum, I didn't mean it," he protested apprehensively.

"I am not interested," his mother stated flatly. She undid the buttons at the waist of his shorts and slid down the zip. Mr Alwyn's interest quickened. It looked like the little lad was going to get a well-deserved spanking. He hoped the girl might get one as well. And on her knickers! The woman seemed suddenly to remember the other adult in the compartment. She looked across at him and paused with her son's zip halfway down. Damn! Mr Alwyn thought, the brat was going to get off.

"I always spank my children bare," she explained. "I hope you don't mind Mr- er-"

"Alwyn. George Alwyn," he introduced himself courteously. "Not at all, madam," he smiled. "By all means spank them as bare as you please."

"Thank you," she said politely. "I'm Imogen Merrill, by the way." She briefly let go of Ranulf's shorts and stretched across to shake hands civilly. A mischievous smile played across her pretty lips and her eyes glinted. "If you really mean as bare as I like-" she chuckled.

Berengaria picked up the meaning quicker than Mr Alwyn. "Oh, Mummy, no! Not bare naked!" she cried in alarm.

Imogen Merrill's cheery face darkened like a cloud hiding the sun. "Silence, Berengaria. The only words I want to hear from you two for a long time are 'Ow!' and 'Ouch!'" She returned her attention to her son, finished unzipping his fly and tugged down his shorts. She started to un-knot his tie. She smiled across at Mr Alwyn again. "If you'd like to start undressing Berengaria, please do."

"Eh! What?" Mr Alwyn said hesitantly, startled into disbelief by the extraordinary invitation. "Are you sure? I mean- Dash it all! She's a girl!"

"Yes," grinned Imogen Merrill, "that should become ever more evident as you continue."

Mr Alwyn may have been startled, but he was quick to recover. He wasn't going to miss this chance by being too diffident. "Come here, child," he instructed sternly.

"No!" Berengaria retorted rebelliously, huddling defensively into her corner.

"She's an obstinate little brat," acknowledged her mother coolly, "so you'll have to force her. Don't mind about being a bit rough; she's tougher than she appears."

Mr Alwyn stood and approached Berengaria. As he drew near, she lashed out with her foot and kicked him hard on his knee. "Damn!" grunted Mr Alwyn, but he'd taken a few knocks on the sports field in his younger days and continued to advance. Berengaria screwed up her normally pretty features in a snarl of hate and scratched and spat like a cornered cat, but Mr Alwyn grasped her slim wrists to contain her. She twisted her head and bit his hand with perfect white teeth. "Bloody brat!" gasped Mr Alwyn, but kept his grip.

"I warned you," Imogen Merrill said complacently. "Turn her over and spank her for a bit; she'll soon decide to do as she's told."

Mr Alwyn followed these instructions as best he could. Berengaria continued to struggle like a captured wildcat, but his superior weight and strength was bound to overwhelm her. Nonetheless, by the time he had the young girl stretched out face down along the seat he was breathless — and not only from exertion! He glanced across at Imogen who was making better progress with Ranulf. She had his shirt and tie off, leaving him only a vest on his top half. His mother suddenly slapped the side of his left thigh for no reason Mr Alwyn could detect, as the boy appeared compliant.

"Ow!" complained the boy.

"I'll give you 'Ow'," she said slapping him hard again in the same place. "You are going to get plenty more like that before we've finished with you. I think they're much too easy on you at that school of yours. I can see we're going to have to make up for it," she promised as she smacked him again.

Mr Alwyn noted the plural "we" with satisfaction and turned his attention back to Berengaria. She still struggled, but, stretched out as she was along the seat, with her arms twisted at the elbows and her wrists pinned to her back by Mr Alwyn's left hand, there was little she could do beyond kicking her legs from the knee. Mr Alwyn stretched out his right hand and flipped back her short grey skirt to reveal her white cotton knickers.

"Get off me you horrid old man!" Berengaria screamed recklessly.

"I afraid she's not very respectful," Imogen Merrill said apologetically, "but I'm sure we shall teach her some proper manners before we're finished."

Mr Alwyn smiled. He looked down at Berengaria's bottom. It was surprisingly well developed for what he had thought of as a dainty girl. He remembered the force of her fight against him and noted the tapering fullness of her thighs below her plumply round, prominent bum that tightly stretched the white cotton seat of her knickers. She was sturdier than he'd realised and, as her mother had said, tougher than she looked. He reached down and gripped the elastic waist of her panties.

"Mummy!" Berengaria screeched, panic stricken, "Don't let him take down my knickers. Pleeease!"

"Don't be silly, Berengaria," her mother said calmly. "Mr Alwyn is going to do a lot more than that before we've finished with you."

"No, you beast! No! No! Nooo!" Berengaria shrieked hysterically, kicking and struggling wildly as Mr Alwyn slipped her panties down over the hump of her bottom.

"Oh do be quiet Berengaria," Mrs Merrill said crossly, "you're going to have plenty of reasons to bawl your head off later. Just like your little brother here," she added as she bent down to unlace Ranulf's shoe. The boy, who certainly seemed a lot more docile than his sister, bent his knee and lifted his foot so his mother could remove it. She did so, but slapped the front of his thigh anyway.

Mr Alwyn's attention was rather more taken up with the revelation of pale cheeks of Berengaria's bum, which still trembled slightly from her squirming struggles. Mr Alwyn raised his hand and brought it down sharply. He felt a satisfactory sting in his own palm and knew the smart would be significantly greater in the girl's bottom. The red imprint of his hand stood out on the white skin. He repeated the smack, though a slightly different, angle. The overlapping, area glowed a darker, hotter red. He carried on spanking. Berengaria squealed and squeaked trying to twist her hips to wriggle her bottom away from the repeated impact with Mr Alwyn's heavy hand, but she was helpless to avoid the hard-hitting punishment. Shock waves rippled through the plump mounds of flesh across her bottom and down to her thighs.

"Ow! Ouch! Stop! Ow! Stop it!"

"Are you going to keep still while I undress you?" demanded Mr Alwyn.

"No!"

Mr Alwyn lifted his hand higher and brought it down hard and fast. He was gratified to see the red patch deepen and extend.

"Yeeouch!" Berengaria yelled. He continued spanking. She continued yelling.

Eventually she screamed, "Stop it! No more! I'll be good!"

"Are you sure? You'll stand still while I undress you?"

"Yes, yes! Anything! Whatever you want, honest!"

Mr Alwyn gave her another couple of spanks and then released her wrists to let her up from the seat. She rose, sniffing and rubbing her bottom. Next second, she launched a furious assault on Mr Alwyn, head down, hands and feet flailing. Her shoes hacked his shins. Her fists pummelled his chest. Her head butted his waistcoat. He recoiled under the attack and, as the backs of his legs met the opposite seat, he overbalanced backwards and sat down heavily. Berengaria, carried away by her aggression, sprawled across him. Mr Alwyn was quick witted enough to take immediate advantage of the girl's fall and pinned her down across his thighs.

"You can't believe a word the little liar says," Imogen Merrill commented heartlessly.

Berengaria struggled with the ferocity of desperation as she realised she was well and truly out of the hot fat fryer and into the furnace. Mr Alwyn had to struggle to constrain the rampaging child across his legs, but she was already at a disadvantage and he was, after all, a grown man, so it was not long before he had her pinned down again, though this time her bottom was bent across his thighs and her legs free to thresh about. Mr Alwyn still had plenty of room for a good swing, and as he was annoyed at her deception, he took full advantage of their respective positions to give the little girl's bottom a very sound spanking. He took his time, pausing between the smacks, not only so the Berengaria should feel their full effect, but also so that he could watch how things were progressing between Ranulf and his mother.

Imogen had taken off her son's other shoe and both socks, slapping his legs again as she did so. The lad was now in his white vest and underpants, and with his shorts bunched around his knees, but now that the obstacle of his footwear had been removed, his mother pulled off his shorts to leave him in his underwear. But not for long. She whisked his vest over his tousled head and then slipped his underpants down his legs to his ankles, where he co-operatively stepped out of them.

Mr Alwyn perused the pale-skinned young body. From the back, the boy looked like perfect specimen. From the thick mane of silvery-blond hair at the nape of his neck, his spine flowed in a concave curve to the jutting, finely moulded mound of his bottom. Below the overhang of this, the strong thighs, marked red from maternal slaps, narrowed to the knee and then the fine calves curved to his ankles. Mr Alwyn wished he could see the good-looking lad from the front. As if by telepathy, Imogen Merrill turned her son around to face him. He saw the boy's face blush at this exposure, though his eyes took in his sister's painful predicament with a sly smile. Mr Alwyn saw the small boy's strong shoulders, solid chest and almost flat stomach. Below this dangled an obviously immature penis. But for all it was not yet fully grown, it was nonetheless remarkably long for a child of his years. The brat probably didn't yet know what he'd got, thought Mr Alwyn, but in a few years with his good looks and fine physique, he'd be very popular with the girls. And those who would be lucky enough to find what he kept in his pants would get a bonus!

But for now, he was just a little boy about to have his bare bottom spanked by his angry mum. She put him over her lap, arranging him so that his groin was pressed against her right thigh and his bottom bent across it. He was small enough for his arms and legs to hang down on either side without reaching the floor. Mrs Merrill patted his compact cheeks as if in affection. Then she raised her fine-fingered hand high, and brought it down hard. Her fingerprints marked the right buttock and that of her palm reddened the left. She kept on spanking. Soon the marks of the individual spanks merged under the barrage of blows to make the boy's bottom a deep blotchy red. He soon began to cry out and wriggle desperately. His legs waved as wildly as his sister's. Mr Alwyn could see his balls jogging and jostling in their little sac between his scissoring thighs. The high-pitched squeals of the girl and boy mingled against the background rattle of the train.

Imogen Merrill paused from spanking her son. "I think you may find Berengaria is ready to co-operate now, Mr Alwyn," she suggested.

"Ah, yes," he replied. He had actually forgotten just why he was spanking the girl. "Well," he demanded of the bent head of the little girl, "are you going to do as you're told and let me undress you?"

"Yes, yes," Berengaria wailed. "Just stop spanking me!"

Mr Alwyn allowed her up, cautiously watching for any sign of a counter-attack, but Berengaria just jigged from foot to foot howling and holding her bottom. She looked reasonably decent from the front, apart from her knickers around her knees, as her skirt had fallen back into place. She didn't look quite as pretty as she had, what with her blubbering mouth, twisted, tearstained face and the dribble of snot that leaked from her left nostril. Mr Alwyn pulled her towards him and felt in her blazer pocket. He took out a small handkerchief printed with pictures of bunny rabbits. "Blow your nose and wipe your eyes," he instructed. She obeyed and looked a bit better, though she still sobbed wetly. Her beret had long since fallen off in the tumult and strands of her hair that had escaped her Alice band stuck to her damp features. She looked a poor sad thing and he felt a momentary pity. But then he made up his mind to delay no longer.

Mr Alwyn unbuttoned Berengaria's blazer and slipped it from her narrow shoulders. He decided to remove her shoes just in case her submissive mood changed and she became mutinous, but she appeared to be tamed. Next, he undid her tie and began to unbutton her shirt. He had already noticed she had two small bumps of budding breasts pressing against the material. She meekly went along with the removal of this. Perhaps the continuing sound of smacks to her brother's bottom and his shrill cries of reaction persuaded her not to make a fuss. Like her brother, she was wearing a vest under her school shirt. He slipped it up over her head and Berengaria compliantly raised her arms to assist its removal. She was not wearing a bra. Her hands twitched to protect the girlish mounds of unripe flesh at her chest, but then realising the futility of resistance dropped them to her sides. They were a pretty little pair of tits, Mr Alwyn mused, studying Berengaria's early development without a thought for her own feelings.

Mrs Merrill stopped spanking Ranulf and pushed him from her lap. He jigged around the compartment, crying loudly and complaining of his sore bottom, which he tenderly rubbed with both hands. Berengaria forgot her own troubles long enough to turn her head and enjoy her brother's suffering. But then Mr Alwyn's hands were at her skirt, unbuttoning the waist and sliding down the zip. "Ooowooh!" Berengaria sobbed as this final shield of her decency fell around her feet.

Mr Alwyn looked long and hard at the young girl's revealed body. Her white knickers were still twisted around her knees, but otherwise she was naked. Mr Alwyn reckoned it would not be too long before she had great little figure, but what he now saw were the — quite literally — bare beginnings. Her miniature breasts gave a little shape to her upper body and her waist was starting to narrow, though her tummy was still childishly rounded. This was partly countered by the visible recent broadening of her hips giving her a slightly more adolescent appearance. The mount of Venus was prominent and the genital cleft long and bulging, and, still being completely hairless, was consequently very conspicuous. Mr Alwyn stretched out his hand and tugged the child's knickers free of her legs and, his concentration on the girl, absent-mindedly put them aside.

So, Mr Alwyn thought, Ranulf had been stripped and spanked and Berengaria had been spanked and stripped. It had been an entertaining ten minutes or so. He was sorry it was over. But Imogen Merrill was speaking:

"Would you like to take on Ranulf while I continue to deal with Berengaria?"

"Uh? Oh! Yes."

So the girl went to her mother and the boy passed across to Mr Alwyn. Neither seemed happy with the prospect. Mr Alwyn arranged Ranulf across his legs. He heard a loud smack chased by a shrill cry to show that Mrs Merrill had already started on Berengaria. He raised his own had and spanked Ranulf with similar effect. The boy's bottom felt a bit different from his sister's. It was smaller and firmer. More muscle and less fat, Mr Alwyn surmised as he continued spanking the compact cheeks. Both children were yelling loudly now. Mr Alwyn looked across at where Berengaria was spread over her mum's lap. She was throwing her legs around in a most abandoned manner. The view was charmingly intimate, thought Mr Alwyn.

Eventually Mrs Merrill stopped her spanking and Mr Alwyn followed. The children, still naked, were put at either end of the carriage looking out of the window while they loudly cried. The two adults discussed the modern lack of discipline with regret. The train sped on and, as time passed, the children's tears dried up.

Mrs Merrill had a bright idea.

"Turn around," she told her children. When the naked pair faced into the compartment, they saw she was pulling two envelopes from her handbag. Their faces showed anxiety and dismay. "Their end of term reports," Mrs Merrill enlightened Mr Alwyn. Let's see if they're any better than last time. Hm, Berengaria: 'Insolent', 'Disobedient', 'Berengaria's conduct and attitude have shown no improvement'. Now for Ranulf: 'Lazy', 'Dishonest', 'Ranulf continues to show none of the qualities expected by this school'." Mrs Merrill finished reading. "Nothing there to be proud of there," she commented grimly. Then she turned to Mr Alwyn. "Would you be kind enough to fetch down that suitcase?"

Mr Alwyn obliged. The children looked even more apprehensive. Mrs Merrill opened it and rummaged though Berengaria's clothes until she found a pair of black plimsolls. She took these out and closed the case, which Mr Alwyn returned to the rack. By now the children looked definitely fearful. She handed one of the canvas topped, rubber soled slippers to Mr Alwyn. "No need for our hands to be as sore as their bottoms," she said with a smile."

Mr Alwyn took the proffered gym shoe and smacked it lightly against his palm. It stung just as much as he remembered from his own distant boyhood. He imagined what it would feel like when forcefully applied to an already sore bare bottom of a child.

"Berengaria! You kneel on this seat. Ranulf! You kneel on that one facing the other way." Reluctantly the children moved to their appointed positions. Mr Alwyn watched curiously as Mrs Merrill went to the two piles of discarded clothing and selected a tie from each. She handed one to him and asked graciously, "Which one would you like to have a go at first?"

"I'll go back to Berengaria," he offered, wondering what the ties were for. Mrs Merrill could hardly be suggesting they beat the children with them, as they were much too flimsy to sting.

"Hands behind your heads, children," Mrs Merrill ordered. Berengaria and Ranulf must have been in this position before as they immediately understood and bent their arms at the elbows so that their doubled arms stuck out in front either side of their chins with their wrists behind their necks. Imogen moved behind Berengaria and wrapped the tie tightly around her wrists before knotting it. Mr Alwyn followed her example and secured Ranulf's hands.

"Heads right down and bottoms right up; you both know the way! Higher than that, Berengaria! Unless you want extra. That's better. Now stay like that while we whack you," their mother instructed.

The children awkwardly assumed the position. Their heads and arms were pressed against the cushioned seat with their backs arched inwards so that their stretched young bottoms pointed up at an angle. It was a very humiliating and uncomfortable pose, and one designed to stretch the skin and so maximise the sting of the slipper. It was also a defenceless one, as, balanced as they were, they could not dodge and with their hands tied, they had no chance of protecting themselves. "We'll have to stand close by their sides so that they don't topple off," he suggested.

"Yes," she agreed. And then without apparent irony, "We don't want them hurting themselves."

Mr Alwyn moved alongside Berengaria's hips facing towards her feet and Mrs Merrill did the same with Ranulf. "How about we give them six each and then swap," she proposed and Mr Alwyn grunted his agreement.

"Oh please, please, sir, don't slipper me too hard," Berengaria beseeched tearfully.

"Pay no attention to her, Mr Alwyn," Mrs Merrill recommended heartlessly, "as I told you earlier — and as you'll have found out — she's tougher than she looks. Still, at least her manners have improved."

Berengaria wailed more loudly as her appeal for mercy was turned down, and Ranulf joined in, in anticipation of painful punishment to come.

"Oh, stop your caterwauling at least until we've given you something to bawl about," Mrs Merrill said in hard-hearted exasperation. With these words, she raised her right arm high and swung the slipper to crack loudly against her son's taut buttocks.

"Aeeeiouch!" Ranulf screeched enthusiastically.

Mr Alwyn, not wishing to be left behind, roundly whacked Berengaria's tensely twitching cheeks in a matching manner with much the same effect. The adult pair continued their steady beating of the children's bottoms while the kids continued to screech at every solid slap of the slipper. When six sound swats had been delivered, they swapped over and Mr Alwyn set to work on Ranulf's crimson buttocks. He yelled loudly, but not as much as his sister as now that her mother had charge of her Berengaria's shrill shrieks increased in volume and rose in pitch to a piercing intensity. Clearly, Mrs Merrill was showing no mercy where her daughter was concerned.

After this batch of six whacks was completed there was a pause, but only while Mrs Merrill said, "OK, Mr Alwyn, let's turn them over for the second half."

Second half! Mr Alwyn was astonished — he thought they'd already had two halves. So, it seemed, did the kids who howled protests and pleas as they were grabbed by their arms and legs and dumped on their backs — still, of course, with their hands tied behind their necks, making resistance impossible. Mr Alwyn looked towards the children's mother to see what she had in mind so he could follow her lead. Mrs Merrill hooked her right arm behind the crook of Berengaria's knees pushed her legs right back until the fronts of the wailing girl's knees were around her ears. So, that was the idea! George Alwyn put his own arm behind the naked boy's legs and tipped him right back as in his sister's example. The little lad's substantial penis flopped back to point at his belly button in obedience to the law of gravity. The position was horribly exposed for the poor bare boy. His flushed tearful face looked out over his small sac of balls between his thighs. The skin of his sturdy bottom cheeks was tightly stretched and between the solid little buttocks peeked the puckered ring of his bum hole. But Imogen Merrill was already walloping little Berengaria so Mr Alwyn wasted no more time in contemplation, but picked up the gym slipper and whacked Ranulf's upturned bum hard. Five more times George Alwyn swatted the little lad's stitched bottom while he yelled loudly in chorus with his sister on the other seat. When the full half dozen had been delivered to each child, Mrs Merrill said, "Right, Mr Always, we'll change places again for the final set of six. Mr Alwyn now took charge of Berengaria and Mrs Merrill her son. Naturally, without the pressure of the adult holding them in position, both children's legs had dropped back along the seat, so Mr Merrill had the pleasure of heaving the little girl's knees back to her golden hair. Like her brother, her red, tear drenched face looked back between her thighs, but here were only her lower lips, slightly parted by her stretched legs. But if her face was red, it was nothing compared with her bum, which glowed a dark crimson. But Mr Alwyn knew by now to show no mercy. He swung the slipper hard and once again, the compartment echoed with the sound of childish screams punctuated by ringing cracks of solid rubber on inflamed young flesh.

Now the physical punishment was over, but their mother again made the bawling naked children stand, with their hands still bound, at either end of the compartment facing out of the window, their bottoms on display while she and Mr Alwyn talked of this and that. But the physical effort and emotional excitement had taken their toll on the elderly gentleman and soon, despite the noisy crying, he felt his eyelids droop and again he dozed.

Mr Alwyn awoke suddenly.

"But Mummy, I have to have them," Berengaria was saying urgently.

Both children were dressed and no longer bound. In fact, Ranulf was knotting his tie under his collar. Neither child was crying any more, but both were red-eyed.

"Then you'd better find them," Mrs Merrill said.

"But I've looked," Berengaria said desperately. "They are not anywhere."

"Then you'll just have to go without," answered her mother. "They must have been put into the case by mistake when I put away the plimsolls. I am certainly not opening it again."

"But I can't walk about with no knickers on," protested Berengaria.

"You can and you will, my girl," replied her mother impatiently. "And if I have any more nonsense from you I will lift up your skirt and spank you right along the platform when we leave the train."

"Ooh!" moaned Berengaria, but stopped complaining about her missing underwear.

The train drew into the station and stopped. "Well thank you so much for your assistance, Mr Alwyn," Mrs Merrill said with a polite smile, "We'll leave you in peace now and you can enjoy your snooze." The family disembarked and walked away along the platform. Mr Alwyn glanced at his watch — another forty minutes until he reached his station. He settled himself down for another sleep.

The train rattling over some points awoke him with a start. He looked groggily around the empty compartment. It was almost as if the Merrill family had never been there. It was strange to think of the drama that had unfolded there this afternoon. He rubbed his bleary eyes. The whole episode had been bizarre. That a mother should enlist the aid of an elderly stranger to denude and severely spank her children — and one a girl at that! It had all been very enjoyable at the time, but now somehow not quite real. Had it really happened? His right palm still tingled, it was true, but he had slept with his wrist bent and it could be 'pins and needles'. He wiped his forehead to try to clear his fuzzy brain. The memory seemed hazy, almost like a dream. A dream — surely not — and yet the whole episode was now so incredible. His train drew into his station. Reluctantly, he began to acknowledge to himself that he must have had a particularly vivid and remarkable dream. He stepped from the carriage and began to walk along the platform. A passing train stirred up dust and wafted it into his nostrils. He sneezed and felt into his pocket for his handkerchief. He blew his nose. A passing woman looked at him oddly — a mixture of amusement and disapproval. He realised his hankie seemed not quite right — too small, the wrong shape. He looked down.

He had just blown his nose on a schoolgirl's brief white knickers!