The Grampus


It was hot and Sandy still had no idea where she was or where she was going. She liked to think that she hated routine and that she never had a plan, but this morning when she had recklessly thrown away the map and had taken a random turn and hiked across a field, she had known in her heart that she had been hoping to find the path to St Austell.

Now it must have gone three in the afternoon and she was lost. She tossed her long blonde hair defiantly, although there was no one to see her, and began cursing the world for her lot.

In the early days of her new life, she had enjoyed being free. She had quit her job as a PA in an advertising agency and sold her flat. Then dressed only in the clothes she stood in and whatever she could fit in her rucksack, she had headed west.

It had taken her half the summer and three bar jobs to get to Newbury. It was then that the reality had begun to bite. Her life was still an endless lonely grind. Only now she was broke and fast running out of decent clothes.

Even then she had lied to herself about where she was going.

“North, south or west.” She had said aloud at the town boundary stone as she tossed a coin.

That spring she had read a book about Cornwall and somehow a dream was born. Why she did not know. She barely knew that she had the dream or what it was. If she had then she could have made a more sensible move and just bought a house there instead of becoming a lady tramp.

The thought that she was hobo had awoken her one night with a start, she was 27 for god’s sake and tramps were always old people. That lie had comforted her and sent her back to sleep.

Even though she wasn’t necessarily going to Cornwall, she wanted to get there before the end of summer, so after Newbury, she had picked up the pace and refused work to hike ever further west.

Now she had reached the sacred county and her dream was slipping.

It was hot and she was lost and had now begun to realise what she had done. What had she expected? What was she after?

Then her powers of self-deception cut in and she headed towards the edge of the field looking for a road over the looming hill. She found one.

Then road was steep and winding and she was about ready to curse the world that it had betrayed her, when there on the bend was a house. More than that, it had a sign proclaiming ‘Cornish Ceramics’ and more hopefully, ‘shop and tea room’.

Sometimes she wondered about the world and how something always turned up. A cup of tea right now would be all she needed to pursue her dream for another few hours and by then she would have another lie to distract her.

The house had a courtyard that had a pottery workshop and a shop at the back. The teashop was a few tables under umbrellas outside the shop.

She dropped her rucksack on the floor and collapsed into a chair. There were no other customers and apart from a buzzing insect no sound on the still hot August day.

“Yes can I help you?” Said a voice.

Sandy sat up and looked round.

“Are you open?” She asked still not seeing anyone.

“Josie a customer.” The voice spoke again.

Just then a dark haired woman about her own age stepped out of the shop.

“Sorry didn’t see you there. Cream tea is it?”

Sandy nodded and the woman went back into the shop. She returned quickly with a tray with scones, cream, jam and a teapot on it.

“I didn’t hear your car, have you come to see Lillian’s work?”

“I don’t know.” Sandy said absently quite taken with the cream tea as she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “No I am hiking.”

“Why not look around the shop when you have had your tea?”

“I will.”

The tea may have been the best she had ever tasted, but maybe that was because she was hungry. Afterwards she looked around the shop. Most of the pots were large vase like things, very good but not tourist fare. She was about to go when something caught her eye.

In a display cabinet towards the back were some figurines of naked women in strange poses. Most of the poses seemed to emphasise the bottom, with many of them holding bending positions or rolling their knickers down onto the thighs. One in particular was exquisite; it showed a woman bent over in half so that her bottom was uppermost.

Then in one corner almost out of sight, Sandy saw that there were a series of china plaques with mottos on them. Most of the mottos were banal jingles like ‘never put off until tomorrow what you can do today’. However, what caught Sandy’s attention was that in the corner of each plaque was a study of a naughty girl with a rosy red bare bottom, usually standing in the corner.

Something about them made her smile.

“These are more the sort of thing that would interest the tourists.” Sandy observed when the woman returned to see if she wanted to buy.

“Oh those.” The woman blushed. “They are not really for sale.”

It was then that Sandy noticed that there was more than a passing resemblance to the woman and the recently spanked girl on the plaque. Sandy compared them hard and the woman blushed all the harder and began to fiddle with some postcards.

“Why are they here then?” Sandy said intrigued.

“She said no one would ask that.” The woman was quite dismayed.

“These are Lillian’s work then.” Sandy asked puzzled.

“Yes.” The woman said shyly. “They are there to remind me and to allow the possibility that someone might ask about them.”

“Remind you of what?” Sandy asked intrigued.

The woman took a deep breath and looked as if she desperately wanted to be elsewhere.

“To behave.”

Sandy was about to ask more when she realised that the very questions were the cause of the woman’s embarrassment. She was the girl in the 3D pictures and the plaques were depictions of real events not just fun. Sandy swallowed a smirk and put the object down.

“I suppose I had better go now.” Sandy said with a sigh.

Once outside she stood at the roadside and looked forlornly back at the house. There was something holding her. She let out a huge sigh that turned into a sob. She could not bear to leave.

“Are you alright?” said a redheaded woman in dirty dungarees emerging from behind the house. She had the voice she had heard earlier and Sandy concluded that this must be Lillian.

Lillian was still spattered in various colours of dried clay, some of it red like her hair. Even her face was dusted with a fine layer of white kaolin, which had the effect of making her look older. Sandy later learned that the statuesque woman was in fact only 38.

“Are you alright?” She asked again.

“Fine.” Sandy wiped her eyes. Then added. “I don’t suppose you have a job?”

That was how Sandy came to live with Lillian and her assistant Josie.

She had been offered a job running the teashop so that Josie was free to run the shop and help Lillian in the pottery. It had been made clear to her that the job would only be until mid September when the tourists stopped coming often enough to want cream teas.

It hadn’t taken long to realise that there was more to Lillian and Josie’s relationship than just employer and employee. One day Sandy saw Josie leaving the workshop looking as if she had been crying and with a rather stiff gait. Sandy thought at once about the saucy plaques in the shop.

“You OK?” Sandy asked.

Josie scowled at her and stomped off towards the shop. Sandy shrugged and carried on brushing the courtyard.

On her first day off, she had strolled over the hill to Grampus Bay, the small local fishing village. From the top of the rise she could see its white buildings nestling around the edge of the cove with ‘straight from a postcard’ fishing boats. It was the place she had imagined, the place she had been searching for. She might have wept, but something held her and told her the dream was not yet within her grasp.

Grampus Bay only had one pub, the Whale, which had a picture of a Killer Whale on the sign. She found out that Grampus was an old Cornish name for the Orca and that the locals hated the name Killer Whale.

“Do you ever see one?” She asked an old man at the quay. “I mean they are pretty rare in British waters aren’t they?”

“It happens.” He shrugged. “Least that’s what we tell the tourists. They say that if you see one then you belong here and can never leave.”

Sandy turned to the water and stared hard hoping to see a Grampus rise out of the sea.

“Perhaps one day.” She laughed for perhaps the first time since leaving Newbury.

“Aye perhaps.” The old man laughed with her.

On her return to the house, she discovered some even stranger local customs.

As she turned into the courtyard she saw Josie standing in the corner by the back door to the house. She was turned with her nose in the corner and her dungarees unhooked and down around her ankles. Josie’s underwear had joined them leaving her freshly spanked bottom bare to the breeze.

“Having a good look?” Josie said in a tearful sulky voice from the corner.

“As a matter of fact I am.” Sandy gasped. “What are you doing out here like that?”

“What do you think I am doing?”

Walking out in to the yard Lillian said, “the girl has been stomping about and sulking all week, it was time to put her in her place and take her down a peg or two.”

“What if someone sees?” Sandy gaped not sure whether to be sympathetic or laugh.

“Then they see, don’t they Josie?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Josie answered with a pout.

Sandy took a closer look at Josie’s bottom, which was a rich even red across both cheeks, especially where she sat.

“She’ll be there until dark and then I am sending her to bed without her supper.” Lillian said as if reading Sandy’s mind.

Sandy looked up and took in the warm orange glow that heralded the onset of evening. Still it would be a while until full dark this close to mid summer. Sandy decided that Josie would have been taken down more than two pegs by then.

For the first time since her arrival and with Josie out of the way, Sandy opened up to Lillian and told her about the life on the road.

“Goodness you are lost soul aren’t you.” Lillian had said brightly after hearing the tale. “We will see what we can do about that.”

Later Sandy crept into Josie’s room with a sandwich. Josie was lying on her front with the bed clothes turned down and had a damp flannel folded over her shiny red behind. Josie made no attempt to cover herself and eyed the food hungrily.

“This is about me isn’t it?” Sandy asked.

“I suppose.” Josie admitted. “Before you came it was just the two of us.”

“I’ll be gone soon.” Sandy said sadly.

“Perhaps.” Josie turned and smiled through the dark hair that had fallen over face. “I’m sorry I have been a bitch.”

“I hadn’t noticed. To be honest this is best place I have been since hitting the road.”

“I’m sorry all the same. Thanks for the sandwich, but if I am caught with this I will be for it.” Josie said ruefully.

“Then don’t get caught.” Sandy laughed.

Josie shrugged and gleefully took a huge bite. As Sandy turned to go Josie said significantly: “If she asks don’t lie about the sandwich, I’ll take what’s coming.”

Sandy smiled and shrugged.

The next day after the last of the morning customers had left Sandy was summoned into the pottery room.

“I found a dirty plate under Josie’s bed.”

Sandy shrugged.

“Did you take her something last night?”

“No why would I?”

“Because at heart you are a good girl. I scolded Josie when I found out but I was glad that you had become friends and I let her off what she deserved. After all it was your fault.”

Sandy blushed and felt more ashamed than she should for some reason.

“You are quite an accomplished liar aren’t you?”

Sandy looked up angrily with a lie on her lips. Lillian dared her to speak with her eyes. The younger woman blanched and dipped her face.

Lillian picked up a heavy poly-carbon spatula that was used to mould the clay and patted it against her hand.

“When I was your age and slightly younger I apprenticed to Helen de Court. I was a brash young thing, I used to think I was quite the bees-knees. Rather like you. She upended me over her knee on my first day with her and after she had given me the spanking of my life she put me in the corner of her studio. She said if I was still there when she came to dismiss me then we would have a future together.” Lillian smiled at the memory. “I had been an army officer before that, but I was looking for a new direction. I spent the most humiliating day of my life in full view of everyone who came in. I was still there when she returned some hours later needless to say.”

Sandy shifted awkwardly where she stood knowing where this was going.

“Look I am a grown woman there is no way I am going to let you.”

“Hah.” Lillian laughed. “Let me? You aren’t letting me do a thing. I am going to bare that self-important feckless lost little bottom of yours and spank it purple. When I am done, you might not sit down for days. Then I am going to make you the same offer that Helen made me. I am going to put you in the corner in the yard and if you are still there later this afternoon then we will talk about your future.”

“But there are always customers over lunch you can’t.” Sandy wailed. “I mean you are bloody well not I won’t let.”

Lillian raised her eyebrows at that word. Sandy backed away looking for an escape as her boss walked purposefully towards her.

“This is crazy you can’t do this.” Sandy protested. “I’ll call the police.”

“Why do you persist in these lies?”

Lillian caught Sandy at the door and dragged her down over her lap as she sat on a huge sack of grey clay.

“This is not happening.” Sandy struggled.

“You keep telling yourself that.” Lillian soothed as she slipped down Sandy’s jeans effortlessly. “It will be a good lesson in the powerlessness of your lies.”

As Sandy’s knickers joined her jeans at her ankles, she began to buck and swear vengeance. Lillian ignored her as she pinned her new apprentice’s wrists into the small of her back and secured her legs with her own.

“Hush now you know you have this coming. Its why you came I think.”

“Please don’t do this.” Sandy pleaded with a voice edged in panic.

Lillian flicked the spatula hard across Sandy’s bare smooth cheeks.

“Yah.” Sandy hissed in surprise, her eyes wide open.

Lillian didn’t wait for the pain to bite or the vivid redness to emerge on Sandy’s bottom and struck again.

The door opened and Josie rushed in.

“Oh.” She blushed. “I’m sorry I…” She didn’t finish and went out again wondering if that was what she looked like when she was spanked.

“Please this is not happening,” Sandy breathed moistly as the pain really began to surge in her bottom

Another flurry of spanks betrayed the lie. Lillian spanked steadily until Sandy’s bottom was red all over and the colour really began to take hold.

“Please I’m sorry.” Sandy wailed the first of her tears splashing onto the swept stone floor.

“I know,” Lillian soothed, “I know baby but you need this, so we are so far from done.”

“I won’t tell the police please stop,” Sandy wept.

“Of course not.”

The spanking suddenly picked up a pace and Sandy went plank stiff and began to rock up and down hissing through her teeth.

“When I’m done you’re going to stand in the corner like a good girl aren’t you?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Sandy sobbed.

“You know we’re not done yet because you need this don’t you.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Sandy’s bottom was maroon now and already the white patches were forming where the skin protested its treatment just where she sat, or used to.

“Just a little more and then we are done.”

Sandy was beyond an answer now and sobbed incoherently just as Josie had years before and Lillian herself had before that.

Then when further spanking was futile Lillian drew the sobbing girl into her lap.

“Hush now.” Lillian sighed.

The two women hugged as Sandy cried her heart out and the blaze in her bottom drove out the empty feeling that had oppressed her for months, years even.

Then helping her up, Lillian led Sandy still hobbled at the ankles and shuffling to the corner in the yard, where despite her acute embarrassment the breeze felt good on her bare bottom.

“Please someone will see,” Sandy sobbed.

“I know,” Lillian smiled grimly remembering her own humiliation. “But without the shame you will come back for more far too often and I have a business to run.”

Josie was already in the yard setting out the tables for afternoon tea. She exchanged a knowing look with Lillian.

“Is she staying?” Josie mouthed.

Lillian looked back at Sandy and then nodded.

There had only been two customers that afternoon, an American couple from the Mid West.

“Oh my you certainly have strict discipline here in England.” The woman chuckled.

Sandy had begun to cry at this, as she stood still bare bottomed in the corner, but as Josie moved closer she whispered: “They’ll be gone soon and we’ll never seen them again.”

Standing at supper had been strange. As she stood facing her new friends in her embarassment, Sandy felt like a girl facing a new life. Then later in bed as she lay on her front Josie had dabbed her bottom with cold cream and a damp flannel.

“Will this happen often?” Sandy said meekly.

“Often enough.” Josie giggled. “You’ll find sitting is a privilege around here.”

It was some days later that Sandy was able to face walking to the village. Even then, she had to take slow painful steps. The autumnal sea was still serene and the wind carried the smell of it up to her. As she looked out across the bay she saw a lone wave break the water and the black and white grampus rose and fell as if to salute her.


3 Responses to “The Grampus”

  1. 1 paul1510

    DJ, nice one, it’s not often I read a story set in Cornwall, thank you.

  2. 2 Sylvie

    A beautiful story 🙂
    Very lovely how Sandy finds a place to stay, a home for living her dreams


  3. This statue I call ‘SPANKY’. Each year such an object should be given to naughty female politician’s by the President. They receive this award upon bending over the oval office desk, with skirts or dress raised high, panties taken down, to bare their bottoms, and given a good caning. This year I recommend two such females. Sarah Palin, and Michele Bachmann.

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