The Whipping Boy

     Princess Katherine sat down at the flimsy wooden desk sadly. She
looked down at the algebra book in her hands, and then out the window. It 
was a beautiful spring day out. The sun was shining, the birds were singing,
and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Then, she looked back around the 
drab, grey, drafty classroom. The room was totally bare except for her
desk and chair, a chair for the teacher, and a pair of manacles (?) which
were chained to the wall.

     Katherine sighed deeply. She was a beautiful girl, with long blonde
hair, deep blue eyes, and a very comely figure. Today was a day for her
to be out playing with her friends, not stuck inside a classroom studing
Latin! Today was her first day of lessons, so she did not know what to
expect. Thus, she was caught totally off guard when the teacher walked
in, bringing a boy behind her.

     The teacher was a young woman, only about ten or twelve years older
than her sixteen year old pupil. However, the teacher was not nearly as
gentle, and had a reputation for pedantry and humorlesness. She chained
the boy's wrists up to the wall, exposing his chest and belly.

     "This, Princess, is your whipping boy," explained the teacher. "You
are of noble blood, so it is forbidden for me to strike you. So this boy
shall stand in your place when you deserve a beating. He gets paid a
few coppers every time that you force me to strike him. So know that when
you disobey me or fail to pay attention, you will cause a human being
to experience anguish, and will drain money from your father's treasury."

     Katherine looked at the boy. He was about her age, but was clearly
from a peasant family. The whipping boy had jet-black hair and eyes, as
well as firm muscles. His only clothing was a pair of ragged pants. On
his belt hung a small leather pouch.
 
     "Pay attention!" the teacher barked. "Now open your primer to page
1, and recite the algebraic theorums." And so the lesson began. For
the first half hour or so, Katherine paid utmost attention, not wanting
for her whipping boy to suffer. But she could not keep it up indefinitely
on such a perfect day, and eventually lost her concentration and got
a simple problem wrong.

     "That was careless," said the teacher, getting up and walking over
to the whipping boy. She dropped a few pennies into the boy's pouch, and
then suddenly punched him very hard in the belly. The poor boy's eyes
bugged out, and he gasped in pain.

     Princess Katherine expected to be horrified. But instead, she was
fascinated. The princess was scared by her own reaction. For her, a
gentle, caring girl to be excited, even aroused, by a peasant's pain,
seemed unthinkable. She wanted to see the boy get hit again.

     Katherine really did try to get the answers right, but her mind was
full of images of the boy's face as he got hit. It was inevtiable that
she would make another mistake. Wordlessly, the teacher got up, walked
over to the whipping boy, dropped another few pennies in his pouch, and
then punched him again, even harder than before.

     The fist was swallowed up by the boy's soft belly. He cried out in
pain, his face a mask of shock and pain. This was even more arousing than
the first blow! Katherine decided that she would have to start trying
to get the problems wrong, simply so that she could see the ordeal again.

     Katherine got some of the answers right, so that it wouldn't look
like she was trying to get the boy beaten. But most of her answers were
intentionally wrong. After a half hour, the boy's stomach was badly
bruised, and his pouch was stuffed to bursting with coins. He was moaning
softly in pain, and Katherine was moaning softly in pleasure.

     "You are a very poor student," said the teacher sharply. "I'm going
up to get more coins for that poor boy and a simpler book for a simpleton
like you. Sit quietly while I'm gone." With that, she left the room.
Katherine balled one of her hands into a tight fist, and smiled.

     She walked over to the boy, and began stroking his bruised chest
and stomach, despite his feeble protests. She pressed her body against his,
and gently kissed him on the lips. Then, she stepped back and raised one
of her fists.

     With all of her might, she punched the boy between the belly button and
the ribs. Her fist was swallowed up by his stomach, and she marvelled in
the texture and warmth of his flesh. She did not remove her fist for a few
seconds, wanting to savor the moment. Eventually she retracted her hand,
though, to better enjoy the boy's grimace. He wanted so badly to cover his
stomach up with his hands, but they were manacled.

     Moaning with pleasure, Katherine punched him again, a quick jab, but
satisfying. She began doing it again and again, her fists twin pistons
driving away at their target. Only when she was exhausted, sweating from
exertion, did she stop. Katherine then realized what was missing. Smiling
sweetly, she pulled down the half-unconscious whipping boy's pants, and
took careful aim with her knee.

     When the teacher returned a few minutes later with two books and
some coppers, she was astonished to find the boy unconsious, beaten
senseless. Katherine laughed at the expression on the teacher's face
and then said, "I hope you brought plenty of pennies."