Cookie
Copyright© 2013 by Emerson Laken-Palmer
Chapter 2: School Days
It was quickly learned, at school, that anything could be done to the little girl with the odd name of Cookie without fear of any retribution from those in authority. She could be slapped, punched, kicked or knocked down by the boys and she would never fight back. It wasn't in her nature to hurt anyone. There was no anger in Cookie ... just a pretty smile and hopeful goodwill toward everyone. She felt that being kind and good would help her in the world but it never did.
The only fear the boys had was of her large brother Corey who would knock the shit out of them if he heard any one of them had hurt her. So the kicks and punches and trips were done to her on the sly.
The girls, on the other hand, were both jealous of her extremely pretty features and hateful acting, toward her, for her funny way of dressing in tattered, second-hand clothes. They would taunt and torment her at school and on the playground at recess without mercy.
The teachers and school Principal were in on the game too, prompted by her father who encouraged the school staff to be as harsh with her as they wanted. He informed them that her subservient behavior (always saying "yes sir" and "no ma'am") was actually her way of showing them her disdain and stubborn disrespect for them. Thinking that they were on to her game, her teachers made her school hours just as miserable as her home life had become.
She was yelled at, in class, and called stupid, by her teachers, even though she was very smart and (if given a chance) an above average student. She was given F's because she didn't sign her name in all caps or because her paper had a stain on it. Other students took her homework papers and crumpled them or ripped them up. She couldn't re-do them before they were to be turned in and the teacher was not going to listen to any of her excuses.
Whereas corporal punishment was unheard of for the girls, it was common for Cookie to be paddled on her tender backside, bent over with her hands on her knees, in front of the whole class. Five or six hard strokes of the wooden paddle or a hardwood pointer, sometimes even with her ordered to hold her skirt up in back, exposing her ragged panties for the whipping (much to the girls' satisfaction and the boys' delight). The teachers were astonished that she never grunted, screamed out or made so much as a whimper as they thrashed her soft-looking bottom and tender upper thighs. It was taken as her way of stubborn defiance to their authority and caused them to beat her all the harder and without any mercy. To the classes' astonishment, there was never so much as one tear shed, on her somber reddened face, as she struggled to walk upright back to the hard, cold, wooden seat of her desk.
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