“So he let me in. Once I was inside, I just stood there and howled. Absolutely grief-stricken. I wanted to hold onto him but I couldn’t. I felt I’d let him down so badly and it was all my fault. And I felt… unclean. He wouldn’t want to touch me, if he knew what I’d done.”
I said, “You didn’t -”
“I know. I know that now. But I’m talking about what I felt at the time. I felt so worthless. Anyway, thank god he stopped asking me what was wrong, and just held me. He told me I was a good girl and a beautiful girl, and nothing can happen that you can’t live through. And then he shut up and held me. I just bawled, big wracking sobs from all the way inside me. I dunno; it may be the worst I’ve ever felt in my life. And I felt my life was over. Hah! I must have made such a mess of his shirt.”
I held her. Maddie made light of it, but talking about it brought some of that pain back.
I said, eventually, “Well, he was right, you know. You are a good girl. And a beautiful girl.”
“Hah. Sweet talker. Anyway, I eventually subsided, enough to tell him what had happened. I accused myself of wanting it, and it was my fault. And he should whip me. I was too worthless for him. I tried to break out of his arms. I wanted to run out of his room, and… I have no idea. Maybe go back to Plan A and jump in front of a car.
“But he didn’t let me go. And he stroked my back, without touching my ass. And brushed away my hair from my face – it was all wet! And he started to soothe me again. A vicious manboy had sone something evil, but I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was good, I was clever, I was special, I was beyond pretty. Like that. I don’t remember what he said specifically. But it was sweet, and he obviously didn’t think I was worthless or my life was over. So I couldn’t see far ahead, but I tried to think maybe he was right.
“Anyway, he said he was going to call the police. And I refused. I refused for all the wrong reasons: shame, not understanding what rape was. I thought it had to be at gunpoint or something. So if it didn’t take two guys with guns, then it was my fault. My doing. And I didn’t want to talk about it.
“So he said at least he’d have to call my parents. And I just begged him. And… I’ve got mixed feelings now, about not wanting the police called. Because they’d have put me on trial, and so would the courts. But, you know, you have to make sure the bastard gets a record. For the sake of other women. But I wasn’t ready to carry that. Not telling my parents: I don’t think I was wrong there at all. They’d have been no help. The opposite of help.”
Maddie had talked to me about her parents before. They’d have followed the rules punctiliously, and probably would have called the cops without Maddie’s consent. And they’d have been no emotional support at all. They meant well, and that was the best you could say for them.
“So, he sighed, my headmaster. His name was Conal Wright, by the way. I just never thought of him as that. He was ‘Sir’ to me. Always.
“And he said to text my parents, then, and say I’d be home late. I could say I was getting extra history tuition from the headmaster, he said. So I texted and said I’d be chilling with my friend Rosemary for a while.”
When I said I’d told my parents I’d be late, he told me to sit down and wait for him. He was going to get his car, and park it just outside his office. So I wouldn’t have to walk far. And he’d take me home. To his home. And you know, I was still distraught, and I wasn’t being a hypocrite, but I liked the way he looked at me.
So I sat down, while he left. I’d never been alone in a teacher’s office before. He’d been expecting to cane me, and the cane was still on the table. So once he was safely gone, I got out of my seat and went and picked it up. It was so hard. I imagined how it would feel it he brought it down on my hands. It was an object that only existed to hurt me. To mark my bare bottom and thighs. And maybe other places.
“Iit’s funny, but that cane in my hands made something in me drop. I didn’t want sex just then. But I remembered what it had been like, wanting to be caned, and then wanting him to fuck me.
“And that cane made me feel like there was a sort of echo, like it was far away but coming home again, from my cunt. Anyway, I put the cane back where he’d left it.
“I was sure he wasn’t going to cane me, or fuck me, tonight. But I didn’t want him to see I’d touched his cane. I still didn’t want him angry with me.
“Anyway, in a few minutes I heard his car pull up, just outside. And he came back in. With a blanket, the kind you have in a first aid kit. For car crashes. Car crash: that was me!”
I hugged her, with feeling. “You’re my lovely car crash, you are.”
“You’re my cruel bastard. Master darling. Anyway, he wrapped me in the blanket. He told me there was no-one still around. And he picked my up! In his arms! And he carried me out to his car.”