Disliking sport brings a girl into conflict with her games mistress

by Joanna Jones

Another bitter, wet day, thought Melanie miserably as she surveyed the seemingly already dark, slate grey sky with cold drizzle falling. You’d think Miss Trimble would abandon hockey in the mud bath that passed for a pitch, she thought, but in reality she knew there was no hope as she contemplated an afternoon freezing in some position put by her team-mates as far from the likely action as possible given her abysmal talents. It did not help that she was left- handed, and hockey was clearly a sport with a prejudice in that regard. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d been penalised for using the back of her stick, much to her team-mates’ frustration.

She wished the school would allow some flexibility in the choice of games that a sixth former could follow, but Miss Trimble, a former international player for England, was passionate about hockey and seemed to be (at least outwardly) unable to understand anyone not sharing that passion.

Finally she made her decision, and waited until the lesson started before heading to the school nurse. After ten minutes Mrs Smith gave her the benefit of the doubt and suggested she lie down in her room.

Delighted Melanie settled down with a book and watched rather smugly as her three dorm mates returned rather splattered and bedraggled, and all made their way immediately to the showers. Melanie did not let on that she had faked her ‘illness’, though her mates all were at least fairly suspicious!

Two weeks later the weather was worse and Melanie, fresh from a miserable afternoon the previous week, decided to take another risk and do it again.

To start with it seemed to work, but as she settled down with her book the school nurse entered her room with a rather firm face.

“I have come to the conclusion you are faking it, Mel,” she said flatly.

Mel blushed guiltily before starting to strenuously deny the charge.

However, Mrs Smith was in no mood to be fobbed off. She pointed out that she had been a little suspicious the first time, and checks that time and this had shown her to be seemingly fine in classes before, and to have eaten her lunches on both occasions fine, to say nothing of her tea on the first occasion.

Despite Melanie’s rather desperate protestations, she soon found herself being told to change into the white top and red skirt of her house hockey kit, and was then escorted, twenty minutes late, to the hockey pitch.

Miss Trimble listened to Mrs Smith with a dark face and ordered an already soaked Melanie into her team. Rather than her usual defensive position Miss Trimble insisted she play in midfield and keep up with the action at all times. Her teammates were less than delighted with the proposed role, given her skill level, but no one was querying their games mistress.

As Melanie got into position so she hoped Miss Trimble, a notorious disciplinarian with the slipper, would not make a huge issue over the deception she had attempted, other than making her work hard for the next couple of hours. True to expectation Miss Trimble spent much of the next hour shouting at her to get involved, where to go, and “put some effort into it”. The training drills mid-way though the session were purgatory as she had to repeat them again and again until Miss Trimble was satisfied with her performance.

Finally the session came to an end. Mel was both exhausted with the effort of keeping up with the games mistress’s demands and miserably wet and mud splattered.

However, worse was to come. Rather than dismiss them to the changing rooms she clustered them round her for what the girls thought would be some final comments on the session. Instead it was Melanie that was the subject under discussion.

“As you all know Melanie Watkins was a bit late today. Apparently the wet muddy pitch was not to her liking so she tried to fake being ill, for the second time in two weeks!”

Turning to Mel, who now felt more nervous than miserable, she continued. “I expect girls to put their full effort into the game, and indeed all activities here. I certainly do not expect them to be deterred by a little bit of rain and mud!”

A number of the girls shivering in the cold rain would have disagreed with their hockey teacher’s pronouncement but none were going to say so, of course.

Miss Trimble meanwhile took a breath and continued. “When I was young the England junior team went to Asia on a tour. One of the teams we played was originally Korean, though we played all our matches in Japan. When we were talking after the match, two of the girls with better English explained how their coach, who was far stricter than any I ever had, dealt with any slacking. I think it would be appropriate to demonstrate with you, Melanie, and perhaps also cure that aversion to a little mud you have!”

Mel bit her lip and was now very worried. That increased as the angry teacher escorted her, with the other girls following curiously behind, to the muddiest part of the field, in front of one of the goals.

Miss Trimble took Mel’s hockey stick from her and then she was ordered to get into a press up position with her legs about a couple of feet apart. The ground was horribly slippery and her hands struggled to keep herself up, away from the brown goo directly below her body. Desperately she hoped she was not going to have to actually do press ups.

However, it was worse. As Miss Trimble ordered her to push her bottom in the air, and then flicked up her pleated skirt to reveal her matching red sports knickers, she realised that a painful prospect lay ahead.

“This is the position that apparently is most commonly used to deal with misbehaviour in Korean schools.” Intimated Miss Trimble. “And apparently they use a fairly rigid stick, rather than a slipper or cane. In hockey training of course their coach just used this.”

With a sudden movement she brought the hockey stick she had taken from Melanie down onto her upturned rear. It was not a full blooded blow, and she held the stick just over half way along the shaft, but it was certainly hard enough. Melanie screamed as the pain on her right buttock shot through her. The effect also made her hands lose their grip on the ground, and before she could do anything her body landed full length in the mud. The taste as her face got covered was horrible.

Briefly she lay miserably on the ground before Miss Trimble demanded she get herself up and in position again. Slowly she managed to raise herself back into the position the teacher wanted. Mud was clinging to both her kit and everywhere else, weighing her down. It was caked in the ends of her hair and flopping around her face. Her hands seemed even less able to get purchase on the ground as her bottom burned painfully at the same time.

The stick crashed down sharply on her left buttock, sending the poor girl flailing into the mud again with a screech, and yet another mouthful of mud as a result.

Melanie found tears in her eyes as the mistress told her that she had two more to go. Once again she raised herself out of the pool feeling her mud-caked kit weighing on her even more as she did so. The pain in her rear was worse than any slippering she had experienced, and she still apparently had the second half to go!

The third, to the right side again was sharper yet and despite locking her arms and sticking her bottom a little higher to get a better purchase, she still found her hands slipping forward and once again there was a ‘splat’ as she landed again in the soft muck under her. At least she avoided a mouthful of mud as she bit her lip tightly to prevent herself screaming again.

As she prised herself sniffing from the mud and got ready for the final blow she reflected that she must be covered from head to toe, though most of her thoughts were with the intense throbbing pain in her backside and the prospect of the final blow, which she suspected would be extra hard.

Thwack!

Miss Trimble did not disappoint. The final blow, landing to the left again was indeed the hardest. She just held on as the pain invaded, but it did not stop an almighty scream as the agony inflicted on her knickers overwhelmed her.

Disappointed not to have seen the girl slip again, Miss Trimble slid her foot across the ground forcing Melanie’s left hand forward, and hooked the stick around her midriff to pull her towards her and over onto her side at the same time. Inevitably she landed back in the mud and rolled over right over onto her back with the momentum of the pull and having had only one hand taken away from under her. The result was that her back was now also totally coated in wet brown mud too. Melanie rolled further onto her side and lay there miserably, rubbing her poor bottom and moaning as the mistress lectured her and the others. What she said she didn’t hear or care as she shivered soaking on the ground.

Finally she was ordered to pick herself up. Slowly, she extricated herself from the puddle, retrieved her stick from the teacher and trudged miserably with the others back to their house. She was caked from head-to-toe in mud. Normally they used the house showers to clean themselves, but before she could enter Miss Trimble told her she was too dirty for that, even with her boots off. The mistress forced her to stand by the outside wall and hosed her down, fully clothed, in freezing water as Melanie screeched and shivered uncontrollably. Miss Trimble carried on for somewhat longer than was strictly necessary, and Melanie was reduced to further tears and pleas as her body seemed to burn painfully with the cold water continually soaking her body.

Finally Miss Trimble was satisfied. Only then was Melanie able to escape, strip to her underwear at the door, then head to the showers to clean up properly. As she recovered she looked in the mirror in the shower room and found four very distinctive bright red curved marks on her bottom, marks that impressed and appalled her friends, as they were much worse than the plimsoll normally used at the school. They were a painful (and as they bruised, a very visible) reminder for quite some time for Melanie not to mess with Miss Trimble!

Unsurprisingly, the experience did nothing to cure her aversion to her games mistress’s favourite sport.

The End