This is Chapter Fourteen of The Lessons. If you haven't already done so, you are encouraged to read the earlier chapters to understand portions of this story.
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Mr. Peters returned to his office toward the end of classes. It had been a long day. He had three classes and two committee meetings, plus a disconcerting discussion with Dean Jackson. The Dean had apparently received an inquiry regarding Mr. Peters' methods of discipline. The Dean had reassured him that he would fully support him as the Dean was very familiar with his prior success at Abberville. Templeton had provided Mr. Peters an affirmative endorsement when he was hired, and the Dean already had reports from a number of faculty of the improvement in the behavior of students. The Dean was in fact considering the possibility of having Mr. Peters conduct a workshop on his techniques for some of the faculty. Miss Bixley even stopped by in person to request that Mr. Peters deal with some recent delinquent behavior by some of the cheerleaders. Nevertheless, the Dean did feel that he should provide Mr. Peters with a heads-up concerning the parental inquiry. The college always had to treat the parents with respect and care but the Dean felt that the inquiry would likely go no farther than his desk.
Mr. Peters was reassured by this explicit endorsement but if it was not in fact going to go farther than the desk of Dean Jackson then it was unclear why the Dean had felt the need to speak to him directly about it. The Dean had even asked him to stop by before he left for the day to have a "brief chat" about the matter. This was not particularly convenient as he had already filled this time with some last minute student appointments. Well, the students would simply have to wait as he could not brush off a request of the Dean.
His mood shifted though once he returned to his office. Waiting in the center of the room was a large box. In fact, more a crate than a box. He had not ordered any new equipment so he had no idea what this might be. He immediately set to opening the box, which was no easy task as it was quite thoroughly sealed and well packaged. Once he got through the packing, however, he had to chuckle. Someone had sent him a wooden pillory. Not a real or authentic antique, but a very nice reproduction. It appeared to be made of sturdy Brazilian cherry. It was a bit shorter than he would imagine an authentic pillory might be, standing perhaps no more than four feet in height. However, it was clearly functional. The hinged top board easily raised for the insertion of the head and wrists. Upon release it clicked shut, requiring a key to reopen. He dug around in the box to find the key, the manual for instructions and care, and a catalogue for additional ersatz reproductions. He put the key in his pocket.
Attached to the pillory itself was a card. He smiled as he read the note. The pillory was a group present from some of the students of his past classes at Abberville. They had since graduated but they discovered that he had transferred to Templeton when they returned to Abberville for homecoming. The card read: 'We want to let you know how sad and happy we hear that you have moved on to greater glory. It was a loss for Abberville but we're sure a gain for Templeton and for yourself. We will always remember the pleasurable (yet painful) times we spent in your office, learning the finer points of demeanor and discipline. Someday we would like to return the favor (ha ha!). In any case, we hope the enclosed does come in handy with your new students. Best of luck and with fond memory." Each of them signed their names (Lonnie, Betty, Mary Lou, Jimmy, Ted, and Janice). Just thinking of those days brought back sentimental feelings. For a moment, he wondered if it had been a mistake to leave, particularly after the encounter with Dean Jackson. Well, no use second-guessing that decision now.
He chuckled at the thought of actually using the pillory. He couldn't help but imagine the fun of using it with the cheerleaders when they came for their disciplinary meeting in his office later that week, but he suspected that this might be going too far. Nevertheless, it would at least make for a good conversation piece and would probably put a useful scare in the minds of a student who was not yet sure about whether to take him seriously.
He dragged the heavy contraption over to the side of his desk where any student standing in front of the desk would see it. Frankly, it would be the first thing a person would notice upon entering the room. He had to admit that it really was an appropriate and well considered present from his prior students. He stood and admired it for some time. But, he knew he had to see Dean Jackson so he dragged the empty box and packing out into the hallway and then headed to the office of the Dean.
Minutes after he left, Miss Harding arrived to ask for his advice on how to handle some of her students. She knew that she was perhaps going too far and she was feeling reluctant to even use his techniques out of a fear that she could no longer trust herself. It was evident to her that she obtained considerable sexual pleasure in spanking and humiliating the male students. She wasn't sure if she would be able to tell Mr. Peters all of the details, but he must have had some experience with her concerns and would perhaps be able to provide helpful advice.
She knocked on his door but there was no answer. She was surprised as she knew that he was usually in his office at this time. This was the time of the day in which he worked with students outside of his class. Miss Harding was in fact considering referring one or more of her own students to him. Well, she could at least leave a note on his desk to let him know that she had been looking for him. She opened the door.
Mr. Peters was right that the pillory instantly drew one's attention. 'What in the world is he doing with that,' she wondered. She couldn't believe that he actually used a pillory. Yet, it was standing right by his desk. However, it also appeared to be a bit small. It probably was just a conversation piece, not really a functional pillory. She approached for a closer inspection.
It was rather small. Her understanding was that most persons had to stand straight up when their head and hands were held by the two boards, although she realized that she could easily be wrong about this. It wasn't like she was an expert on such things. She raised the upper board and pulled it aside. She couldn't get it all the way over as it bumped up against the shade of a floor lamp. She leaned the board against the shade.
It just didn't seem right to her. The holes for the wrists and neck did appear to be cut to a correct size but the structure just seemed too short. She leaned down into it, as if she was being placed into the pillory. The neck and wrist holes were indeed fine but she was quite well bent over. Perhaps this was one which held persons who were to be publicly flogged or spanked on their bottoms, although it would still seem to be too low for a really tall person. She did though find it kind of titillating to have her hands and head in the slots of the lower board, as if she was about to be punished. She knew that to be in a real pillory would be just awful, if not abusive, but there was something fun about a playful pretending.
She then realized how she would look to someone who might suddenly enter the room, including Mr. Peters. For all she knew he might have already returned to his office only to see her bent over, pretending to be pilloried. She quickly pulled back to extract herself before he returned. However, she forgot that the holes were large enough for her neck and wrists but too small for her head and hands. As she pulled back she jarred the frame, shaking the upper board off of its position against the lamp shade. Before she realized what was happening it crashed down across her neck and wrists, clicking shut.
She pulled. She couldn't get her hands out. She tried again and again, but it was clearly impossible. She tried twisting her wrist and scrunching her fingers tightly together. Nothing. Not only did her efforts hurt a bit but, more importantly, they were in no way successful.
This was not good. In fact, this was awful. It was very uncomfortable, but worse, potentially very embarrassing. What could she possibly say when Mr. Peters returned? In fact, would he return? Perhaps he had in fact gone for the day? Was she going to be here all night? She had a moment of panic. No, that wouldn't happen. The door to his office was unlocked. He wouldn't leave his office unlocked. He would be back, and he would probably be back soon. Not to worry. Nothing to worry about. Once he returned he would let her out.
She considered calling for help but she had no idea who would come and find her. If she was going to be caught in this thing, the least embarrassing would probably be him, unless, of course, he returned with someone else. The thought of that brought back the panic. What if he came back with the Dean? Or maybe with a whole group of teachers? She again considered yelling out, but she again decided no. Even if someone from the hall came in, they might not know how to get it unlatched. There must be a key or something and Mr. Peters probably had the key. They might still have to wait for him. In the meantime she would have to be in this embarrassing posture with whomever had found her. No, it was best just to wait for him to return. It was toward the end of the day. He would be back soon.
