Born with a cunt: An apology for being female

Born with a cunt

By Worthlessfem

Chapter Two  

Under the new government a steady stream of new laws were passed, all of them in different ways disempowering women and increasing men’s power. In the fields of criminal and civil law, in the areas of the family, home and workplace, in just about every area of life, the new laws saw to it that the principles of fairness and justice underpinning masculist philosophy were put into place instead of the unfair feminist system that had ruined the lives of millions.

Parliament, with its overwhelming majority of MPs from the Justice Party, simply passed the new laws with virtually no debate. The device known as the ‘guillotine’ was used to silence dissenting voices and keep the time during which discussion of the bills took place to the absolute minimum.

All the new laws had one basic intention in mind, to teach the uppity feminist bitches their place and, slightly further down the line, to make all cunts recognise their own inherent inferiority and learn to obey the wise guiding hand of superior males in every aspect of life.

One of the earliest new reforms was the Transfer of Family Assets Act. Under its terms all married women or women who co-habited with men were declared to be incapable of making independent financial decisions. All wives or co-habiting partners were placed under the legal guardianship of their husband or male partner. He was given absolute and unfettered control over every aspect of her life. Any money, property or other assets that had formerly been hers now became his.

Overnight the results of the new laws meant that even once wealthy wives found themselves suddenly without a single penny to their name. Their husband or partner controlled every aspect of their finances, her home, car, bank accounts and credit cards being transferred into his name and his sole control with immediate effect. Even the clothes on her back no longer belonged to her but were, in the eyes of the law, his sole property. Everything she had once owned was now his and she had no right to any possessions of her own, nor any say in the way her husband or partner chose to use or dispose of her former assets. Her husband or partner had the legal right to make full use of or get rid of anything that had once been hers.

Wives and partners, stripped of everything they had once owned, found themselves totally dependent upon their husbands and cohabiters. They had little choice but to develop a new attitude of deference and willingness to co-operate with the wishes of the men who held the purse-strings. Wives and cohabiting women were forced to become respectful, obedient and even submissive to the men who now effectively controlled their lives.

If they did not they soon found themselves even worse off than those women who remained married. Under the new Matrimonial Reform Act, the former privileged or at least equal position of wives and mothers was turned completely on its head and replaced with the principles of true justice permeating every aspect of masculist philosophy. Women were quickly and ruthlessly stripped of their former marital ‘rights.’ From a position of status and privilege, wives found themselves reduced to the level of chattels.

All marriages were to be arranged in future between the male suitor and the girl’s legal guardian, generally her father. It was entirely forbidden for a girl to have the slightest say in who she married or even if she married or remained single. Only her father or other legal guardian now had the right to decide on whether or not she would marry and, if so, who her future husband would be. A girl’s future marital status was decided for her, not by her. Men had the sole right to determine her future and the whole status of girls changed overnight.

Even the words of the marriage ceremony were changed to reflect the new masculist philosophy. Not only at church weddings but also in civil ceremonies, the wife to be now had to promise to ‘love, honour and obey’ her future husband. Any wedding service that did NOT include those words was now officially declared to be non-valid under the law.

Another section of the Act reformed the laws governing divorce. From now on only men were allowed to divorce and women were forbidden to seek a divorce under any circumstances. Men could divorce their wives whenever they wanted to, and without needing even to give a reason for wanting to set them aside. On the other hand they could apply for ‘aggravated divorces,’ which meant that their wives were brought before the new and soon much dreaded Family Courts. This meant that husbands were able to impose much stricter conditions upon their wives. The court could even, if the offences of which they were accused were sufficiently serious, send the ex-wives to prison for lengthy terms. On top of the massive financial disadvantages under which wives laboured, now they also had the fear of divorce hanging over their head without any prospect of being able to threaten their husbands with divorce.

Women were also not allowed to seek a legal separation from their husband or even to leave him no matter how unwilling they were to remain with him. If a wife tried to leave him the law laid down that she was to be immediately arrested and charged with desertion, an entirely new criminal offence carrying a mandatory sentence of two years imprisonment. No matter how unhappy with her lot a wife was, she had no legal means of escaping from her marriage.

By contrast, her husband could get rid of her whenever he wanted to and did not need to give any reason for his decision, which was not open to challenge or negotiation on her part. Faced with this new insurmountable legal obstacle, wives rapidly became even more submissive and eager to please their husbands than they had been after the first Act was passed. There was no prospect of escape, and a divorcee found herself in a worse position than even an unhappy wife. Husbands held almost total power over their wives following the new reforms and wives had no choice but to try to be as subservient and accommodating to their wishes as they possibly could.

The idea of a wife enjoying an independent life became no more than a distant memory for women. From now on their status was about on a par with that of a domestic pet, or perhaps a small child. Women who had run businesses, been politicians or otherwise lived strong and independent lives were forced to become obedient, submissive and humble wives instead. The fear of divorce was even worse than the humiliation of their servitude. Not only were divorcees shunned socially and subjected to many disadvantages under the law but they also found it difficult to make ends meet, a situation which other laws that will be discussed soon made even harder for them.

Men held the whip hand now and eagerly began to exercise their newly regained power over the formerly uppity women. Gender roles and relations changed fundamentally as the new reforms kicked in and masculist philosophy became the norm. Some wives tried to behave as if nothing had changed but soon found out the error of their ways when their husbands divorced them.

Not only was the wife forbidden to have any possessions during her marriage but in the event of  divorce the husband kept everything – the home, money, any assets. The wife was turned out on the street with literally nothing. The law ruled that she did not even own the clothes on her back and a husband was within his legal rights to turn his wife out on the streets literally stark naked. The prospect of total financial ruin terrified most wives and made them extremely co-operative.

To add to the difficulties facing women, the law decreed that following the divorce custody of any children from the marriage would automatically go to the husband. Under no circumstances was an ex-wife allowed to have custody of the children. Even joint custody was not permitted under the new reforms. Not only would they lose everything but an ex-wife would not be able to bring up the children. The thought of losing the children was another huge fear for wives and mothers and kept them firmly in line.

Two further provisions about divorce in the Act reinforced that fear. The first was that the wife and not the husband was liable to pay alimony, as he and not she was the parent of the children. The second was that the ex-wife enjoyed no RIGHTS of access to the children of the marriage. The husband had the sole right to decide where, when, or even IF she could see them. The law regarded her as being an ‘unfit parent’ because her husband had divorced her. She therefore had no RIGHTS in the matter and access was simply a PRIVILEGE which her husband could give or withhold at will. Some husbands began using the THREAT of divorce with no access to the children as a weapon to keep their wives in line. Most took the hint and submitted. The ones who continued to resist soon found themselves out on the street, utterly penniless and denied any contact with his children.

Various social changes rapidly followed even from the original mild new laws. Daughters soon became expected to bring a dowry to their suitor to make them more attractive as marriage prospects. Unless they were lucky enough to be extremely beautiful, poor girls struggled to find a husband or even a boyfriend. Boys and men could pick and choose their future wives and of course they always went for the best-looking girls. And, in spite of its obvious disadvantages for women, being a wife was made preferable to the alternative career prospects for females.

Following on from the Matrimonial Reform Act, the Head of Household Act laid down further restrictions on how females could behave. From now on it was a clear principle of law that only a male could be the head of a household and that all the females within a family were subject to his authority. Sisters were made subject to the authority of their brothers and mothers to that of their sons. Only the head of household or his designated legal guardian could take decisions and the females had no choice but to obey their wishes or face being brought before the new and soon much dreaded Family Courts. All wives and daughters living with their parents now came officially under the legal guardianship of the Head of Household or his designated deputy until they were either, in the case of a wife, divorced or, in the case of a daughter, married to another man or no longer living under his roof. Effectively all females who lived with their father or other legal guardian were entirely under his control and forbidden to act independently of his wishes or to own any possessions of their own. They were forbidden to have access to their bank accounts, hold credit or debit cards, enter into legal contracts and in every way subjected to a wide range of restrictions upon their behaviour. Only the Head of Household or his deputy could decide if she could drive, hold a driving licence, move, apply for a job or resign from one. If she worked she was not allowed to know how much she earned and any wages she got went straight into the bank account which he controlled. If she needed money she had to ask him for it and he gave her only what he felt she deserved.  Her wages were officially described as ‘pocket money’ and the girl felt like a child as she asked him for it. He often said no to her! 

Because only a man could be Head of Household, women who had either divorced under the old unfair pro-feminist laws or were ‘single mothers’ were classed as being ‘moral reprobates,’ ‘unfit mothers,’ ‘incapable of being parents’ and declared ‘positively dangerous to the welfare of children.’ The Family Court simply took the children away from them and handed them over into the custody of their father. The mothers were ordered to pay him alimony and because of their previous ‘moral turpitude’ in having been either divorcees or single mothers the Court automatically denied them ANY access to the children. If the identity of the father was not known, as was quite often the case with the sluts who called themselves ‘single mothers,’ the children would be taken into care by the state and offered up for adoption to childless couples. The result was that ‘single mothers’ tried desperately to find a husband to take them on but in most cases they were completely unsuccessful and paid the price of their promiscuity.

The Head of Household or his designated legal guardian also had the power to draw up a Code of Conduct for the women in the family which they had to follow without question or complaint and to the letter. The slightest infraction of the Code was punishable by a range of penalties, and serious ones would result in the offending female having to go before the Family Court to face legal sanctions for her behaviour. Women and girls within a family situation soon became even more subservient, docile and respectful than the previous laws had started to make them. It was yet another nail in the coffin of feminism.

All these changes brought wives, co-habitees and daughters still living with their parents firmly into line but of course they were only the beginning. There were still millions of women outside the provisions because they were single or widows. New legislation was clearly needed to rein in their status and take away the excessive privileges they used to have when society was still under the malign influence of feminist bitches.

The government fully recognised the problem but dealt with it in a piecemeal manner rather than launching an all-out assault which they felt might arouse too much opposition. Widows and single women without children had so far managed to stay outside  provisions which so radically restricted and altered the lives of married females. Their turn was about to come, and when it did it was nothing short of a glorious revolution in gender relations!

The first step was to introduce a Sexual Offences Act. It created many new offences which were designed to restrict female behaviour and to make it more difficult for women to lead lives independent of male authority. The first provision was to make lesbianism a criminal offence. From now on any woman found guilty of indulging in ‘dyke sexual perversions’ would receive a mandatory minimum sentence of two years in prison with hard labour without the possibility of parole. A lot of feminist bitches who had been notorious dykes now found themselves under arrest and were soon sent to prison to learn the error of their ways. As part of their punishment they also had to undergo ‘sexual re-education and rehabilitation’ to teach them ‘correct sexual behaviour’ and ‘appropriate sexual morality.’ Those dykes who had not been found out as yet quickly went undercover and from time to time were discovered, arrested and punished. Most girls soon realised that the penalties were severe and that it wasn’t worth taking the risk.

As well as actual lesbianism, another section of the Act struck a huge blow against female independence. It was now no longer possible for two women to share a hotel room, own or rent a home or a room together on the basis that their actions involved ‘a  clear presumption either of an actual lesbian relationship or intent to commit lesbian activity’ on their part. Even sisters or mothers with their daughters were not exempt from these provisions, being required both to prove their biological relationship and that they had NOT intended to commit ‘lesbian incest.’

Women who had bought or rented accommodation with female family members or friends now found themselves in danger of arrest following these provisions of the new law. They had only three options, to buy out and evict the other female owner, to rent a place as a single woman or to sell their property on the open market. Few women could afford to buy out the other girl, and there was a big shortage of rented property available for single women and it was well beyond the income of most of them. Even if they sold a property they owned jointly they soon found that both the law and the activities of the estate agents conspired against them. Because of the drastic reduction in the numbers of wealthy women, almost all property put on the market was now bought by men.

The difficulties faced by single women were made even worse by the new Currency and Credit Reform Act. This now made it impossible for any woman to get a mortgage, loan, credit card or enter into a credit agreement unless she had an annual income of at least a million. Hardly any women qualified so it effectively prevented them from acquiring a home of their own in future. These provisions did not apply to men so owner-occupation, getting loans or buying anything on credit became almost exclusively restricted to them.

Even worse for women was the additional clause that existing female mortgagees, borrowers or credit card holders were required to ‘demonstrate their continuing creditworthiness’ by having to produce a ‘sincerity bond’ that showed that they held funds to the amount of 50% of the total debt or fifty thousand pounds, whichever sum was the greater. They also had to pay the sum of ten thousand pounds to the newly established National Credit Agency to purchase the sincerity bond. Since there were not many women who had that much disposable income to begin with, the result was that, under the terms of the law, their creditors were instructed to treat them as ‘bad debtors’ and to require the immediate repayment of the whole balance owed. Their debts were called in and if they were unable to repay the whole sum immediately the courts declared them to be bankrupt.

Some of the credit card or personal loan debts were small enough for many of the women to be able to meet the terms of the Act. Hardly any of them had enough money to be able to repay their mortgages in full, though. The result was that most of the women suddenly found that they were stripped of their homes and any other assets they had and forced into sudden poverty.  The market became full of ‘repossessed’ property as the mortgage lenders took away the women’s homes. They found themselves on the streets and literally penniless after the court judgement of their bankruptcy. Homes that were worth up to a million were ruthlessly taken away from them and put on the market for peppercorn prices.

The estate agents quickly struck bargains with the mortgage companies where the existing debts were taken over by the new male purchasers but as interest-free loans. They then sold the repossessed properties at public auctions, auctions at which females were expressly forbidden to bid. By the bargains made between the mortgage lenders and the estate agents, a property worth fifty thousand or less would be sold at auction for no more than fifty  pounds. (A few went for as little as ten pounds.) One worth up to one hundred thousand would fetch a sale price up to one hundred pounds, up to a quarter of a million would go for two hundred and fifty or less, up to half a million five hundred or under, up to a million for a thousand or less and any homes over that sum (which was only about six female-owned properties) went for up to two thousand pounds. There were huge bargains to be had and the women could do nothing as their valuable assets were stripped away from them and sold to men for peanuts. The girls all became penniless and the men became even richer at their expense! As a result of the legal and financial reforms home ownership became restricted to less than 3% of the female population.

The attack on the independence of single, divorced and widowed women continued on a whole range of fronts. Having taken away the homes of most of the single and divorced females, most of whom had mortgages, personal loans, credit cards or store cards, widows, who often owned their homes outright and did not make much use of credit,  were largely left alone for the time being., Instead the government continued its onslaught on the single and divorced girls with a five-pronged attack.

Part one of the campaign was to tackle the problem of the millions of single and divorced girls who had suddenly lost everything. Because they had had their homes taken for non-payment of debt, the government declared that they had ‘made themselves intentionally homeless’ and were therefore ‘vagrants,’ ‘freeloaders’ and ‘welfare bums. Some of the minority with well-paid jobs were able to move into private rented accommodation but most could not afford the expensive rents. They had nowhere to live, no assets and only the money from their job to live on, if they had not been sacked after being declared bankrupt, which about 40% of them had been.

As one of the first economic measures of the government had been to remove unemployment benefit from women in the interests of ‘cutting public waste,’ the girls were forced to turn for help to family and friends. About 60% of the ones who had been fired returned to live in the family home with their parents. However, they discovered at once that they now came under the terms of the Head of the Household Act and were completely subject to the authority of their father, brother or other designated legal guardian. The old privileged life of freedom they had known came to an abrupt and unpleasant end. Of the remaining 40%, about 25% managed to persuade friends to find them accommodation.

That still left 15% of the fired girls and 60% of the ones still working to be dealt with. Their families and friends were either unable or unwilling to help them, or in some cases the girls themselves did not want to go back to the family home. Of the girls who had been sacked and not found accommodation with family or friends, most turned to prostitution or other forms of crime in a desperate attempt to get food and maybe a place to at least shelter on a temporary basis.  Of those who had lost their homes but were still working, most managed either to find private rented accommodation or else were offered ‘company hostels’ to live in.

The company hostels were generally either private houses that had been repossessed from women and bought by the business for a song or else they were dwelling places that had been left empty before the election of the new government. In the past, before Justice came to power, these places had been condemned, under the old feminist pampering legislation which had very quickly been repealed by the new government, as ‘unfit for human habitation.’ These dwellings were handed over free of charge by the new government to anyone who wanted them. Since they were also exempted from both building and health and safety regulations, they were soon snapped up by those far-sighted individuals or companies who saw their potential for revenue.  Some did them up and sold them for a lot of money, but most simply held on to them as potential assets. Those who were close to the Justice Party were told privately of the plans for ‘company hostels’ and hung on to them knowing that they would soon reap rich rewards as a result.

The company hostels, though privately owned, were eligible for ‘improvement grants’ from the local councils and central government. As they did not have to comply with building or health and safety regulations, their expenses were minimal. Hardly any of them provided even the most basic facilities for their tenants but they still pocketed the improvement grants and then doing nothing at all to improve their properties! In fact, they set out to make them worse.

When the housing stock that had been condemned as unfit for human habitation was given to its new owners they were in a very sorry state. Only 4t% of them had any curtains or blinds, 5% carpets, 8% fitted wardrobes or other fitted units, 10% baths, 13% cooking facilities, 23% a hot shower, 28%  hot water,34% a cold shower, 35% central heating, 40% double glazing, 48% toilets, 53%

Another sexual offence under the new Act raised howls of hysterical and entirely unjustified protest from feminist bitches. The law now made adultery a criminal offence with a wide range of punishments, up to and including life imprisonment with hard labour. What angered the cunts more than anything else was that adultery was, quite rightly, ONLY a criminal offence if it was committed by a wife. The husband was, in the words of the law, ‘free to seek his own sexual gratification elsewhere if his wife fails to please him sexually.’

The woman, by contrast, was forbidden to ‘whore herself about’ or to ‘betray her sacred obligations to her husband as a loyal and faithful wife.’ Men who in the past had conducted discreet affairs now flaunted their infidelities quite openly, while women who had been ‘brazen hussies’ found themselves under arrest and being justly punished for their ‘disloyal behaviour’ and ‘whorish infidelities.’

Other sexual offences were designed deliberately to restrict a woman’s freedom of action, not just on the sexual level but using sexuality as a lever to control her. Under the section entitled ‘promiscuous behaviour’ a whole range of things, often deliberately vague, became ‘sexual offences’ for which the girl could be punished. There were different categories of promiscuous behaviour, the most serious of them being ‘whoring’ – prostitution proper in which the whore sold her body for money. The government was clever enough not to make prostitution a crime in itself but to require the bitches to provide a ‘licence to whore’ issued by the local ‘Morals Office’ for a fee. At least they’d found something they could make a profit out of at last!

What was NOT allowed was unlicensed whoring. The girl could only ply her trade if she either had a licence to whore countersigned by her ‘manager’ or if she worked in one of the newly legalised state brothels. Either way the law required her to hand over 100% of her earnings to her manager who gave 10% of them to the government in tax. If she worked in one of the state brothels her money was taken at source. This 100% deduction was expressly stated to be ‘for the purpose of preventing girls living off immoral earnings.’ As a result all licensed prostitutes received not a penny for their activities no matter how many tricks they turned in a day. Their manager or the government got the lot and the whore got nothing! Of course unlicensed whores still existed but the penalties for trying it were made sufficiently harsh to deter all but the most desperate girls from taking the risk.

As well as prostitution proper a new criminal offence known as ‘whorishness’ was also put on the statute books. It was an extremely vague crime and was divided into ‘whorish behaviour,’ ‘whorish body language’ and ‘whorish attitudes.’ Essentially it meant that from now on girls had to watch almost every aspect of their interaction with men. They had to be careful how they reacted to invitations from men, how they dressed, how they looked, what they said and even how they moved. Almost every aspect of their lives was now open to challenge. This section of the Act, like the measure as a whole, was meant to strike fear into the hearts of single women and make them feel too intimidated to take an independent line on life.

Judging from a few early test cases in court, ‘whorish behaviour’ seemed to apply to girls who were either sexually experienced already and had fucked a lot of men or who were considered to be ‘too eager and enthusiastic’ about the prospect of being fucked by other men. Whorish body language was interpreted as ‘giving the impression through her dress, bodily movements or other non-verbal signals that the girl is entirely eager and enthusiastic about the prospect of sexual intercourse’ and whorish attitudes seemed to mean basically that she either liked the idea of being fucked or gave the impression that she was always up for it.

Any single, widowed or divorced woman who was sexually active had to be extremely careful from now on. The days when she could consider herself to be ‘sexually liberated’ were over for good. In the eyes of the law a woman who ‘contravened public decency’ or who ‘behaved like a depraved slut’ was nothing more than a criminal. A new department of the police, known as the Morality Enforcement Task Force, was set up and given sweeping powers of arrest, detention and on-the-spot punishment. Its official mandate was ‘the suppression of indecency, depravity,  promiscuity, sexual perversion, sexually provocative behaviour,  sexually degenerate attitudes,

It was no good if a girl tried to take a vow of virginity and modesty either and stayed as far away from temptation as possible.

Crimes for which girls and women can be feminism, lesbianism,  abortion, birth control, indecent exposure, the use of obscene language, insolence, disobedience, laziness, lack of enthusiasm for sexual activity

• Men may have as many wives as they wish

• Women may only have one husband

The Office of Guardians currently considered all un-married women to be in need of a Guardian if they were living away from home and either over 25 years old, or whose fathers had passed on, through death or just passed on to a life in another town. Women younger than this were the responsibility of their fathers, married women the responsibility of their husbands, even if they were separated or divorced. Of the women considered in need of a Guardian some 25% had been assigned. There was a dignified rush to look after the elderly widows, because a Guardian had complete control of the woman's financial affairs. All Guardians soon realized that the job had become a sinecure that allowed them to plunder the funds of the women in their charge without fear of penalty, and this was why most of them volunteered. The management had got rid of all female Guardians at a stroke not long after the start of the Assisted Government, and was now slowly weeding out those men who had joined when it was still a service intended to help women as opposed to being simply an instrument of control and social change.

With enormous satisfaction House immediately set off with a quartet of squaddies to his lost estate. His wife's lover was escorted to the gate with only the clothes he stood up in. As all his money had come from House's ex-wife, and that was now under the control of House, he was relieved of any money he had as well. They took him to Crewe railway station, bought him a ticket, thumped him half senseless, and put him penniless on a train that wasn't stopping for the next 150 miles. They also told him that if they ever met up with him again, anywhere, then next time they would not be so nice to him. House had brought with him strapping sergeant from the WRAC, this lady made it quite clear to Mrs House that she had best mind her manners, show respect, and be obedient

when the Brigadier spoke to her. Her outraged expostulations were met by a series of sharp slaps that continued until she was crouched on her knees desperately trying to defend herself.

The sergeant escorted her up to her bedroom to pack her things. She insisted on checking everything she packed, allowing only the most feminine and insubstantial stuff, the expensive glamorous lingerie that she had bought to entertain and enthral her exciting toy boy. She also made her change into high heels and a skirt, a very short skirt, and a cut off top bought for the beach, with only a very pretty lacy little thong underneath.

House had decided to make her live in a small one room cottage on the north edge of the estate, where it bordered the massive coniferous forest owned by the forestry commission. She would have a long walk to the village to get her supplies, and a long walk home again. It had been un-occupied for some time, and the two soldiers had installed a bed, a table and a chair with some limited bedding. He had found her employment with an old friend who had been delighted to hear of his planned return and was only too glad to give her a job in his company. As her Guardian, House had already given him permission to use whatever corporal punishment he saw fit, and had made it clear that he expected to see her

benefit from hard work, long hours and firm discipline. She would start her new employment at 7am the following day, and she would finish

when he decided it was time for her to go home. The pay was almost non-existent and she would have a long walk every day to and from work, but none of that bothered House. Her packing finished, the sergeant now escorted her to her new home, lugging her suitcase in her high heels, struggling to keep going 'fast enough' to avoid another blow. She was told this was her new home and she must stay here or quite simply be imprisoned, she was told where she must be for work at 7am in the morning, or suffer the consequences, she was told to clean the place and get spotless or else, and then left to get on with it.

When the door closed behind the sergeant and the footsteps retreated she burst into tears and wept on the kitchen table, only to have the door burst open moments later by a furious WRAC sergeant who knocked her off her chair, thrashed her with an old belt that came to hand whilst she got out what cleaning materials she could find and set to cleaning the Kitchen floor. The sergeant sat at the table watching, giving her an occasional kick by way of encouragement to work harder.

Elsewhere House wandered around his rediscovered domain in a daze of delight, each room bringing more joy, more memories. Touching, gazing, remembering and once again possessing he was like a blind man whose sight had been restored, he saw everything so clearly, so sharp, and with so much pleasure. He would get a Housekeeper to look after the place, not a dreadful old frump, someone young and pretty. Yes, he would enjoy that, and she would work to keep the house nice for him, and in the evening, well she would be in no position to refuse him other pleasures. Perhaps a maid as well.

Chapter Four

The traumatic change in her life that the ex-Mrs House experienced was an extreme form of what was happening to women throughout the country. Those

lucky enough to be married to a man who stayed with them were best off, but even then their menfolk sensed the change in the wind and felt able to take a much tougher line with their wives. The women no longer felt confident that left on their own they 'would be alright', they submitted. Single women had no way of avoiding the new regime.

Like most women Susan had not particularly noticed the changes taking place so rapidly around her. It was not reported in the newspapers, it was certainly not to be found on television. She had been given a Guardian years ago when she was in University. Arrested on a drugs possession charge, as an orphan she had been put in the charge of Mr. Morrissey. A nice old buffer, whom she still went to see once a month, when she could manage the time, which was not often these days. Well past retirement he showed a patient interest in her goings on, although it did not occur to her ask him about himself and she certainly had no idea what he thought of her. She would have been deeply offended had she found out. Morrissey had resisted the drip of recommendations and advisories given to Guardians by the simple expedient of not reading them. He had not enforced any of the rules on her which were now seen as de rigeur. She

still had her own bank account, drove a car, had a credit card even. She often wore trousers, even sometimes when she went to see him, even though he had pointed out that this was an embarrassment to him. She didn't of course listen; she thought of him as an old fool and had no intention

of taking his advice about anything. She went to see him because she felt he should not be left entirely on his own.

Those women who found themselves under the new regime experienced a

very different form of Guardianship, with strict discipline that ran to a caning

when their Guardian felt it warranted, and rigidly enforced code of silence about

their relationship with their Guardian. And they kept silent, as the easiest way

for a woman to curry favour with her Guardian was to shop some other poor cow

for talking out of turn. It made it almost impossible to talk safely, so most

kept

quiet. As a result women were aware that a rapidly increasing number

had Guardians, but they had no idea of what this meant in practice. Susan

had recently gone shopping with a friend and was surprised that she had no

credit card and paid for everything in cash. She had always been a happy go

lucky spendthrift, and now she was so careful, spent almost nothing, and kept all

her receipts. Susan inferred that the girl was worried for her job, it never

crossed her mind that the credit card had been cancelled by her Guardian, and that

he insisted on an accounting for every penny spent, on pain of a thrashing. Left

to

guess at these changes she guessed wrongly, and her friend did not dare

to enlighten her.

She had noticed a change in atmosphere in the Claims Department where she worked,

but she had not thought very much about what prompted it. As

number three in the whole site she was concerned at the symptoms of loss

of morale, but on the other hand all the measurements of actual performance showed

up well. There were fifty women working in the department now. Her

boss was nearing retirement and she knew he would support her as his replacement.

There were also rumours the head of department, David Jarrold,

was about to be given wider responsibilities and become the head of Investigation

section as well. So when she took over from her boss she would

effectively become Head of Department. It was a development in her career that

she looked forward to, another rung climbed, more responsibility, more

power.

Susan did not have long to wait before he announced his retirement and the job

was advertised. She was worried of course that the appointment panel might want

to go for an outside candidate, but she had herself recently spent two years

working for a competitor before returning to her current, more senior position.

She got a copy of the application, touched up her Resume and put it all in the

internal mail. She saw the question on the application form, "Female

applicant - Name and address of Guardian". Well Mr. Morrissey used to be

her Guardian years ago, but she did not really feel that he was any longer, so

she wrote NA across the section and ignored it. She made mention of what she had

learnt in her two years away and of her experience guiding trainee managers.

She had recently had in her charge one Graham Abram, in her opinion a

rather doltish young man better equipped for playing football than management.

She

really felt that a man of 29 years ought to be more clued up, and she found

it hard to come to terms with her maturity as a mother of 34 and his boyish

view of the world at 29. Her view of him was not helped by the way that so many

of the women in the claims department positively simpered when he spoke to them.

Not that he much noticed, he was far too vague and un-focused to be properly

aware of his surroundings and his effect upon them. His work was not

very good and although she had dutifully involved him in meetings for

the departmental contribution to Strategy Revue he had contributed

nothing whatsoever, in her opinion because he had only the vaguest idea of what

was going on. A complete waste of space to be foisted off on some other section

of the company as soon as possible.

Her application duly arrived on the desk of David Jarrold who read it with

amusement. A fly politician he had offered himself as a voluntary Guardian

as soon it started to look interesting. He was currently responsible for six

women and was on first name terms with all the other Guardians in the area.

Jarrold had wondered about Susan for some time, and seeing the NA scrawled on the Guardian section of her form thought about what to do with her. She had been appointed against un-expressed wishes largely because the then female Personnel Manager had pushed for her against the candidacy of a very well qualified young man that Jarrold would have preferred.

He found her quite insufferable, never wrong, quick to criticise, slow to praise,

arrogant and self assured far beyond her merits. Mind you, the applicants were a

sorry lot, the only one with any actual experience being Graham Abram, hardly

more than a trainee. As management positions were no longer open to women, there

was strong competition for the male candidates with the right stuff, and so he

would have to take what he could get. Abram's

referees and his references wrote highly of him. Naturally he had not given Susan

as one of them, she would not have been consulted if he had. Jarrold

had heard her airing her low opinion of him whenever she got the chance,

and anyway she was a woman, so any reference from her would not count in

a managerial appointment. He would have to see about Susan. Clearly her

current position was managerial and that would not do. With her

protected position as the protégé of the Group Personnel manager, Jarrold had had

to be extremely careful in his dealings with her.

He thought about the candidates on and off all weekend, and came to

the conclusion that Abram was clearly the best of the bunch. More important, he

could not afford to mess about too much or he might go. Driving in to work

on Monday morning he resolved to interview the man that day. One of the side

benefits of the new regime was that fewer and fewer women drove, or were allowed

to drive, with a dramatic reduction in traffic volumes. Getting in to

work was a breeze. One of the small points that made men feel that things

had changed for the better. He saw Abram at 2pm and after an hour and a half

of discussion and analysis decided that he liked the lad and that he had

potential.

He offered him the job. It was clear that things had slipped somewhat in

the Claims department and they got down to work that afternoon to form plans

and ideas for its improvement. George had only applied for the post on the off-

chance, for the experience, and he was astonished to find himself the

only candidate interviewed, and so clearly Susan, who he thought was sure to

be appointed, had not been seriously considered. But he could think well on his

feet and had no intention of letting the opportunity slip. As soon as the talk

turned to the future of the department he thought of the paper on his desk

that Susan had given him to proof read. It was her paper, but a couple of the

ideas were his and she had not acknowledged him, nor even as far he could tell

had she remembered that he had contributed them. He knew that the document in

draft did not actually have her name on it yet. Ah well, he could steal too.

"Too tell you the truth Mr. Jarrold I had been thinking about this for some

time and I have drafted a paper on the subject that might contribute to

the discussion. Shall I go and get it?".”Oh no", says Jarrold, "you have a

staff

now". He buzzed his secretary who was just about to finish for the day and

told her to call Susan to his office. An excellent opportunity thought Jarrold.

Well

have her running errands, and we'll bring her down a peg or two.

Susan when she got the call decided immediately that Jarrold wanted to review her

application prior to interview and this reinforced her expectation of

success. She retired quickly to the ladies to put on a little make up. Not much,

because she normally never wore any at all, and a dab of perfume. She must

not be obvious, enough for effect, not enough to be noticed, that was what

she wanted. She got a rude shock when she walked into the room and saw

Abram sitting there. She nearly blurted out "What is he doing here", but she

didn't.

Of course, it must be disciplinary hearing, Abram had screwed up again

and Jarrold had found out. Having walked half way into the room she was

left disconcerted as they both completely ignored her. She was reduced to

announcing herself, "You sent for me David". Jarrold looked at her coldly. It

was not the first time she had used his Christian name un-invited, but he would

make damn sure she did not do it many more times. Jarrold nodded to Abram,

"Susan, there is Manila folder in the top drawer of my desk, bring it here

will you". She was completely wrong footed. She did not know what to say,

she looked at Jarrold and he just gazed back at her, clearly waiting for her to

do what had been asked. She looked at Abram, the same confident expectant

look. Lacking any plan or clear idea of what else to do, and definitely

not wanting to annoy Jarrold just now, she found herself leaving the room on

her way to fetch the folder. What was going on? She did not understand, why was

she fetching Abram's notes when he must be in trouble. Perhaps Jarrold didn't

want Abram to leave the room. That must be it. As she walked back into the

room to hear them laughing and joking she had the sickening realisation that she

had got this very wrong. Very wrong, and she knew what was in the folder.

Of course she should have looked at it, she should have feigned illness,

she should have hidden it and said it wasn't there; but she hadn't and now she

could do nothing else but hand it over. If there had been a spare seat she would

have sat down, invited or not, and joined the meeting. But there wasn't

so she was left standing in an awkward limbo, neither welcomed not dismissed.

Jarrold, knowing that his secretary had gone home spoke to her, "Susan fetch

couple of coffees will you, there's a good girl. Mine is white with sugar",

he looked at Abram, "Black with sugar Mr. Jarrold". No 'please', not a polite

request, an instruction. Not three coffees, two. She went and made the

coffees in the kitchen alcove of the secretary's room. As the kettle

slowly boiled she edged back to the door so she could hear what was being said.

They were discussing her! "Well she is quite good, Mr. Jarrold, when she

focuses. But I have to say that there is a lack of application and tendency

to expend departmental resource on her own pet ideas". Damn cheek! Who did

he think he was! "Well I expect you to deal with that. We need to get her nose

to the grindstone properly, and keep it there. We can't afford passengers

and we’ll have to make sure they shape up or ship out". What in hell's name was

going on? Jarrold was discussing her with her Junior. She set to finishing

the coffees so she could get in there and join the conversation. Best do it

properly.

The milk was for Jarrold, so she put milk in a jug and set a tray, it would

give her an excuse to be present, time to inveigle herself into their meeting.

She

sailed in, making as much of an entrance as she could contrive and

started transferring the contents of the tray to the table. They carried on

talking

completely ignoring her. When she had finished she smiled sweetly,

and immediately Abram said "You can go now Susan", she half opened her mouth to

speak when Jarrold said "Good night". Then they sat and looked at her. She

knew then that she was not going to get the job. The only rational

explanation for all this was the one that had simply not occurred to her. Jarrold

had given

Abram the job. It could not be so; but it must be so. She went and picked up her

things from her office, out past security with the tears already in her eyes.

She got her car out of the car park and drove home weeping with rage. Even

her 7 year old daughter failed to distract her and they had a big argument which

ended in her daughter being sent to bed early.

On his way home Jarrold mused about Susan. Clearly she needed a Guardian,

but he did not want some martinet to get his hands on her before they had taught

her how to do her job. Abram was right about her, and the report was

hers of course, he knew that. Abram was absolutely right as head of department to

claim it as his own, but they wanted to keep her ideas. She was

useful, but she needed to be controlled. That night he called the Office and was

surprised to find that she was already in the charge of Joseph Morrissey.

Morrissey had joined when the Office was a public service and still sought to help

the women in his charge rather than keep them on the straight and

narrow. He would do nicely. Jarrold knew that Morrissey liked gentle

distressed young mothers and would abhor this arrogant madam who thought of her

own selfishness as a virtue. When the clerk read him a summary of the file it was

clear he was right. Jarrold knew from the files that Morrissey had some grit in

him and whilst his gentle nature would prevent him from dealing with

Susan himself, he would not obstruct others would took on the task. Perfect.

Jarrold

would of course observe all the forms and niceties of the Office. As her

employer he certainly could not seek to become her Guardian, but he was sure that

Morrissey would give him the authority he needed. He wrote to the

Chairman of the Assessment Board suggesting that Morrissey be invited to sharpen

up his act a little. Susan still drove a car and he knew for a fact she

still had a credit card and that should be stopped. Worst of all she often wore

trousers, which any competent Guardian would have put a stop to right away.

The Chairman of Assessments called him the following morning to discuss

the matter and he outlined what he thought needed to be done. Morrissey must

enforce the minimum standards on Susan. He had checked Susan's time

keeping record before leaving and it was not good. She had been 5 minutes

late 3 times in the last 2 months according to security. It would be suggested to

Morrissey that Jarrold as an experienced Guardian himself be given a freehand to

deal with his as he saw fit.

The following morning Susan turned up to work almost late after a bad

night’s sleep to find her colleagues all in flurry about the promotion of George.

When

she got to her desk there was a brown envelope in her mail curtly indicating that

her application had been un-successful. Her colleagues were far too excited about

George to worry about her, and showed little inclination to offer her much

sympathy. She thought it strange that they did not. She had to

endure the galling sight of George moving into the big office at the end of

the open plan, with its privacy and luxurious seclusion. All the windows were in

that office, and whilst his predecessor had left the blinds open so that

the women could see the sky, he shut them without a thought to keep

himself private. At 10 o'clock she knocked on his door and said "I just wanted

to congratulate you George, well done, no hard feelings". Liar, liar pants on

fire.

He looked at her strangely and answered "I do not care for the ready us

of Christian names Susan, I prefer a more formal tone, is that clear?” What

could she say? Yes, Yes Sir? No. "Yes, Mr. Abram, I wasn't thinking". He

nodded, she was dismissed. As she walked out of the door "Remember next

time Susan". He had had a note to talk to her about her time keeping, but he was

not about to encourage her to march into her office. She would learn to

show a bit of respect. He would send for her later and tear her off a strip. He

was looking forward to it.

Mr. Morrissey had his meeting the following Wednesday. A private chat over

sherry with the Chairman of Assessments. Morrissey was tired, deeply tired

and would really have rather been at home in a comfortable chair. Of the women

he used to look after, there was only Susan left, the others having gone on

to other towns, new husbands. Susan had come to him as convicted drug user,

her father had died when she was 16 years old, her mother followed 18

months later. She had been then a frightened and vulnerable creature with much

good

in her. He had watched her, helped her, find her feet and build a life. The arrival

of her daughter Amy had not ruffled her. He never found out who the father

was, all she would say was that at least Amy could only lose one parent.

Morrissey thought that what she really meant was that she was determined to have

all of Amy, whether it was good for Amy or not. But in those days there was no

chance of challenging such an attitude. Susan had been promoted,

moved on and up. He could no longer see the charming warmth of her that

had so made him want to help her. Whenever he thought of her he wondered

where that warmth had gone. She was well paid, successful, and he did not care

for what she had become one little bit. It was agreed that the Bank would write

to Susan cancelling her credit card, and that custody of her Bank account would be

transferred to himself. He agreed that the Office would prepare a letter

requesting that her driving licence be revoked, and promised to talk to her about

her choice of dress. He listened to the complaints from her employers that she

was un-feminine, a serious matter with the Office, that her time keeping was

poor, and that her attitude was entirely in need of reform.

For example she had just recently applied for a job without his permission,

without even consulting or informing him, dismissing all his work for her

with 'NA' under 'Guardian'. Until this point in the conversation Morrissey had

simply been going along with the Chairman because he did not frankly care

much what happened to her. Now he was annoyed. He had put a lot of effort

into Susan’s welfare in years gone by and he was very irritated that she had

shown a total disregard for the courtesies of their relationship, and made him

look a fool to boot. When it was suggested that her employers should use

all appropriate means to deal with her disciplinary problems at work he

readily agreed. He knew full well that nowadays Guardians generally used

corporal punishment on their charges, and he was coming to the conclusion that

Susan was pretty much in need of it.

Chapter Five

George's discussions with Jarrold had given him confidence in his private opinion

that there was a major problem of discipline in the department. One

of his first tasks was to build a file showing the status of each of the women.

Married, assigned to a Guardian and the un-assigned. The marrieds still

living with their husbands he marked down for removal at the earliest

opportunity.

For the un-assigned he wrote to the Office of Guardians requesting that action be

taken and that they be assigned as soon as possible as the lack of their proper

supervision was prejudicial to smooth running of his department.

Jarrold got a letter back from the Office authorising the Company to

assume responsibility for these women while in work, until a suitable Guardian

was found for each of them. For those already assigned, he wrote to

their Guardians requesting that the Company be given freedom to use whatever means

necessary to enforce proper standards at work. As all of these men

controlled the financial affair of the women in their charge, and made a

healthy profit out of it, they were all quick to return an authorisation. There

was no

question of transferring the marrieds to another section, no one would have them.

They would be sacked, and a good thing too. In two weeks flat, through Jarrold,

he had all the authority he needed to thrash any of the women in the department,

as and when he saw fit. Jarrold was no stranger to this kind of business. From

the usual suppliers for the Office the Company bought a set of equipment the same

as he liked to use in his private capacity. A low folding horse, easy to set up,

easy to store, over which a woman could stretched in a convenient position with

her knees well back and her lower legs secured,

presenting raised buttocks and sloping thigh backs to whatever punishment was to

be inflicted. A set of canes of varying length and weight, and of course a

ball-gag to stop an undesirable chatter. This he stored in a locked cupboard

in his office for the time being. They would set up a proper facility later when

the new procedures were in place in all departments.

After his conversation with Susan, George left it until noon and then

asked Margery to tell Susan that he wanted to see her at 12.30. That would be the

beginning of her lunch break. Margery was a bit of battle-axe, and had hoped to

get the job Susan took when she returned to the company a year ago. She

was a tough lady who had little sympathy for the frivolity and quick self pity

of so many of her colleagues. She knew what a hard life was really like and

she barely hid her contempt for their self indulgence. The others in their turn

regarded Margery with the contempt that the young reserve for those who

are ‘old'. Margery had struggled to get the Assistant Office Mangers job, and

she would let nothing, absolutely nothing, take it from her if she could help it.

Her

title 'Assistant Office manager' was window dressing for a post at Charge

Hand grade, and that is not Management; lucky for her. She didn't like Susan, and

the news that Abram had been promoted over her made the best day she had had in

months. Margery and a few others took their lunch late at 1.30 pm.

When Susan knocked on Abram's door at 12.30, he wasn't there. Margery told

her he had said he would be back shortly and she was to wait. So she waited,

and waited, getting more and more irritated, until he turned up, at 8 minutes

to1pm. He marched into his office, stood at the open door, and shouted "Susan"

to her, then went and sat down. When she walked in, he told shut the door.

He then started on her time keeping record. Late 5 times in the last 2 months,

what did she was playing at, who did she think she was. When she tried to

correct him he shouted at her "Don't lie to me! This has to improve. We don't

need slackers here. Keep this up and you will be out. Out! Is that clear?" and

more of the same, on and on until 1pm. She left his office stunned at the

barrage and set off to get her lunch. His voice behind her, "Susan, where do

you think you are going? It is 1pm. Get to your desk". Like that. In front of

everyone. She had just been threatened with the sack for the first time in

her life, she sat down at her desk. She did not know what to do. She didn't know

how to respond. She was not helped by the smirking of some of colleagues who were

hugely enjoying her further humiliation after failing to get the promotion.

When she got home that night she found completely in-explicable items of mail.

The first from the Credit card company demanding the immediate return of her

Credit card. The call centre could give no information other than that her card

was cancelled and she must return it. When she asked them to uncancel

it they said she must make a new application. If nothing else it was

most in-convenient. She would have to go to the Bank and get enough money to

cover her usual Credit card spending. Two days later she was informed that

her driving licence had been withdrawn. All she could get from the Licence centre

was that she must write in, but she must in any case return the licence within 14

days or risk prosecution. The next time she saw Morrissey she complained to him

about her Bank Account and the Credit Card, so he said that he would help her out

by giving her some money until things were sorted out.

The following week when she arrived in work a brown envelope. A total bomb

shell. Her post of Office Manager had been abolished and she was therefore now

returned to the post of Clerk. She hadn't been a Clerk, she came

appointed to the job of Office manager, what did they mean ‘returned’? She

could get nothing from Personnel, they just fobbed her off with tosh

about “departmental matters". She went and knocked on Abram's door. He was not

there. Margery called her over "Have you made an appointment?” No she

had not. The earliest was Tuesday afternoon next week. She made an

appointment. Abram was in all the rest of the day, and all of Friday.

It was obvious that many in the department had enjoyed Susan discomfiture.

But now he had the balance right it was time introduce a colder more

focused attitude. He did not want to start with Susan. Jarrold had suggested

that, but he had objected, pointing out that they could not make the point with a

near

outcast. It had to be a girl well liked and respected by her fellows. He started

handing out warnings to five of the most sociable women in the

department regarding their time keeping, chattering, attitude etc. Some would pay

heed,

but he wanted one who paid little or no attention. It turned out to be Lynne,

after 2 warnings she still talked all day. As the other women came under

pressure to get more work done she was starting to annoy them. It would be

Lynne. Aged 23, Five foot five with black hair to her shoulders and a

good figure, and of course a mouth, a mouth that never stopped. She was an

attractive girl but that would only make duty a pleasure not a burden. Lynne

was assigned, and it was clear that her Guardian followed procedure. Abram

had watched as the trousers and dull tops were replaced by neat short skirts and

pretty blouses. He could see from the lines under her clothes that she now

wore little thongs and flimsy cleavage brassieres. The trainers had given way

to high heels, and she usually wore makeup. He wondered if her Guardian had

beaten her. It was a thought. He could not ask himself but Jarrold knew the

man and asked him. No he had not, but feel free was the answer.

Lynne was summoned to Mr Jarrold's office at 6pm the following Friday night.

She guessed it was something to do with the warnings about chattering. She

hoped and prayed she would not be sacked. If she was her Guardian would be

furious and he had told her what would happen if he ever caught her being

disobedient.

She did not want to be sacked. Abram came into the room just behind her, he heard

Jarrold list the warnings about chattering, and then he told her she was to be caned.

She was so relieved that she was not being sacked she didn’t even raise a murmur,

and when he told her to take off her skirt she did

so immediately. There was a bit of a pause when he told her to take her top off,

but off they came. Jarrold told her to put her hands on her shoulders which she

did, then he went back to the report he was reading. Abram was in

a bit of a reverie watching the show as she stripped, and she was worth watching.

Then he went got the horse out of the cupboard and set it up, he laid out the

cane on the nearby low table. He turned to Lynne who was

watching him with mounting horror. When Jarrold had said "caned" she had

assumed a bit of a spanking, a slightly sore bottom and all soon forgotten. This

looked terrifyingly serious and not what she had expected. He picked up the

cane and beckoned to her. It was too late to argue, much too late to fight. He

was powerfully built and 6' tall, what could she hope to achieve? She did as she

was told.

He used the cane to show her where to kneel. She wanted to talk to him, to

ask him, but she saw no welcome in his face and did not dare. He dropped a bar

behind her knees and slipped a loop over her lower legs, told her to put

her belly on the bar of the horse. He put a wide belt over her waist and

tightened it hard, then he pulled each of her hands behind her back and using the

wrist straps on it secured them to the belt. If she allowed herself to drape over

the

horse with her hair on floor the front edge cut painfully into her stomach,

but keeping her horizontal meant that the bar behind her knees cut into her

thighs.

The dilemma was resolved for her when Abram told her to keep her body horizontal

and her chin up. In this position with her weight throwing her thighs against the

board, she could do little more than wiggle bottom a bit, she certainly couldn't

move out of the way or mitigate the force of the blows she was about to receive.

Her breasts dangled below her in a most blatant display.

She had rather expected Abram to give them a quick squeeze. It would have

been reassuring. But he hadn't.

"I will give you six strokes. You must stay in that position to receive them,

if you move, the previous stroke won't count, nor any others until you are

back horizontal with your chin up. You must not speak or make unnecessary noise,

or I will make you wish you had kept quiet". That was that then, no way to disarm

with her femininity, she would have to take what was coming. She

heard him swish the cane, then she heard it swish again, then a pause, the little

touch of the cane of buttocks made her jump as he measured his stroke.

The she heard it, a loud swish split seconds before it bit into her soft flesh,

she uttered an involuntary stifled howl and a yelp. She had had no idea how

incredibly painful it was going to be, far worse than she had imagined. It

stung, it stung more than anything she had ever known, and that was just

the first. She was already crying, and heard herself whimper as she waited for

the second stroke. In fact Abrams had not hit her very hard. It was meant to

hurt,

to make her understand her true situation, but he did not want to damage her,

nor was he setting out to break her; he wanted force her into the conclusion that

she would prefer to compromise and placate him than to resist. Above all

she must be beaten until she decided not to resist. Another loud swish, this

time she automatically tried escape the blow by flattening her thighs against the

board. Quite futile of course; the frame was designed to hold a woman firmly in

place while she is beaten, and it did its job par excellence. She

howled more freely this time, she was no longer concerned with her dignity,

the fear of the strokes still to come filled her mind, and whimpered with

with the burning pain in her bottom.

For her the thrashing seemed interminable, she did not lose count, she

was dreadfully aware of how many she had had, and how many were to come. In

fact Abram silently counted off 10 seconds after each stroke, so the

whole beating only less than a minute. The first stripe was already ready a

double line of red and purple just above her pussy, the next three welts, livid

red bruises across the bottom of her buttocks and the top her thighs. The last

stretched an inch below her pussy, laid on firmly to the top of her thigh backs.

The sensitive skin there is particularly vulnerable to the agonies the cane,

and she nearly screamed at the last strokes, self control now lost. What had

started as something terribly painful, had got worse with each stoke as the cane

moved onto more and more sensitive skin, so that after each stroke her

whimpering and terror of the next stroke came from deeper inside her so that she

could not bear her own fear of how bad it would be. With each stroke he

had taken two steps forward, bringing the cane down hard and fast so it swished

and making sure he put some of the strength of his arm into it and the cane hit

her. But not too hard, it must hurt, and hurt badly, but she should not

be damaged. That would never do. After the first two strokes he realized that

the buttock furthest from him was taking by far the most punishment, so he

evened this up by making sure the cane landed first on the one nearest him.

The marks were still not symmetrical, but it was better. Never having done

this before he was surprised that each blow made a double red line on her flesh.

He didn't know why, and was curious that it did. He watched the writhing

and rippling of her bottom as she contorted with the pain from the blows. He was

amused to note that one of them almost certainly caught the lips of her pussy.

He reflected that it was probably not the first time she had had a sore pussy,

but she probably never got one this way before. But she never let her body leave

the horizontal, she never let her head droop – she did not want to find that a

stroke 'did not count'. She obeyed him, even in her suffering. The whole

thing gave him an intensely enjoyable feeling of power. He reflected later that

power was not of much value unless you could use it to control women.

The six strokes finished, Abram put the cane down. He knew that to become

Guardian, these days you had to go to Guardian School where amongst other things

you were taught how to discipline a woman. He had had no such

training, but he felt that his first effort had gone well enough so far. He had

certainly learned a lot. Now for the second phase, where this woman,

resistance shattered, would have to show her submissiveness and obedience,

or she would get some more. She would never risk that, so he would have the

pleasure of making her serve his slightest whim for the rest of the evening,

desperate to please him, desperate to avoid even the slightest offence.

After he released her, on his command she hurried to fold up the horse and put it

away, afraid that her clumsiness in releasing the catches and making it fold down

would be seized upon as a reason for further correction. She hung up the cane,

exactly as she was told, being careful not to in way touch the handle,

that was there only for those in authority over her to use, she touched

only those parts used to make her suffer. She folded up her clothes into a neat

pile;

there was no suggestion that she should put them back on and she already knew

better than to ask. After each task she had to stand at attention and wait

for next instruction, immediately scurrying to obey the moment she had been told.

Finally she was sent to make a tray of coffee. At last she had a moment

out of sight where she could tenderly rub her painful bottom. She felt the lines

and stripes and wondered what it would look like, whether she was permanently

marked. She didn't know. In a moment of rage she thought of taking the boiling

kettle and pouring it on them, of throwing the coffee in their faces, but she

couldn't. How could she? They were bigger, stronger, more used to violence, and

she knew the retribution would be truly terrible if she did any such thing. So

she did nothing, and meekly the carried the tray out to them, suddenly once again

very conscious of her near nakedness, of their eyes upon her, of their

considering glances, of this novel intimacy they had of her.

She poured the two coffees - she had not of course made one for herself, and when

she took the second one to Mr Abram, he didn't take it from her, but left

standing before him bent over proffering the coffee, waiting obediently. She

dared not move, she dared not question, all she could do was wait. Yes, he

reflected, she would get used to waiting, she would get used to obedience.

“Smile!”, and so, knowing that she must, she did. A fixed and rather twisted

smile, but it was smile as directed. And so she stood, naked and ignored,

bending over holding the saucer with a silly smile on her face while

they continued their discussion.

As the meeting finished, she was allowed to put her clothes back on. Mr Jarrold

said “I hope you have learned your lesson” to her on his way out the door.

Abram waited and then told her that he would expect to see her in his office

at9.00am sharp tomorrow morning when he would discuss her behaviour and

its improvement now that she understood her position. Improvement in her

behaviour? What did he mean by that? She would know soon enough.

Chapter Six

Abram thought about Lynne on his drive home. Some time soon he would fuck

her, but later, when she had been sufficiently knocked about and afraid of

him that she would not dream of saying no, and only worry that he should

be sufficiently pleased with her performance. Thinking about it, he realized

she must know that he would have her sooner or later, and a constant undercurrent

when she was in his presence would be her fear and anticipation that at

any moment it might be now. He would regularly make her show him what she

was wearing, all of it, to check it was to his liking, he would make her stand

close to him so she felt his physical presence, deny her her own space and make

her stand in his space, make her stand submissively waiting for his orders,

he would make her run errands for him. He would put his hand up her skirt

and fondle her while she waited obediently, and eventually when the time was

ripe,

he would have her. He had discovered that it was frowned upon for Guardians to

have sex with their charges, unless the woman was a whore, but for an employer it

was perfectly alright. He was paying for her time, and what he got her to do in

that time was his affair. Hard work, sex and beatings was a

perfectly acceptable program.

The following Monday, Lynne presented herself as she had been told, and Abram

spelled out to her that from now on she must wear very short skirts, 4”

heels, little lacy thongs with matching brassieres that did not fully cover

her nipples, thin clinging tops. She was also not allowed to wear stockings or

tights. He told her someone would inspect her frequently (who she wondered?),

and if they reported any departure from the rules he had set down she could

expect a worse thrashing. Other men, running other departments, were issuing

different instructions, suited to their own different

tastes. In a few months as the new regime asserted itself throughout the office,

you could tell where a woman worked simply from the way she was dressed. Lacking

a way to resist, the women did what they were told and got used to it. Lynne

wondered what she would do about her bare legs in the

winter. She would freeze with so little clothing.

The women in the department noted the change immediately in Lynne and they

assumed that some family tragedy had upset her. She would not talk

about it. Her Guardian had impressed upon her most forcibly that she must not,

and if he found out that she had he would deal with her severely.

Relations between a woman and the men in authority over her were the matters of

the strictest confidence that must not be discussed with others, apparently. Of

course her best friend eventually wheedled it out of her, and the story

went round the department in a flash. Fearful whispered confidences, sotto voce

discussions of what this meant. How terrible for Lynne, but more to the point,

can they do this? Can they do this to the rest of us? Can they do this to me?

Susan hardly noticed the secretive conferences, and no one told her anything.

She had for years placed herself apart from the other women, and none of them

were going to risk telling her something dangerous which they felt sure they were

not supposed to know. She only noticed that Lynne no longer talked all day, in

fact that she didn't talk at all. Two weeks later she was late again.

Her daughter threw a temper tantrum over breakfast; she missed the bus, the next

one was full; she arrived in work 20 minutes late. Margery nearly laughed

at her when she gave her the Attendance Book to sign. As soon as Susan went

to her desk she prepared a Memo for Mr Abram.

When Abram saw the memo he rang Jarrold right away and the two men agreed it was

time for Susan to be put firmly in her place. To “improve

efficiency” none of the women had phones any longer. When he wanted to

speak to them he would call Margery, or put his head round the door and shout for

them, if they didn't hurry he would shout at them – watch them scurry from their

desk to his office. Heads down, for they were all afraid of him now,

heels clacking and breasts jiggling with the half run. He shouted for Susan,

watched

her as she walked to him. She was not afraid, wondered why the others were,

she walked calmly to him without running, determined not to let herself

be bullied. He checked the shoes, and as she walked past him he checked the lines

of underwear. High summer, so no stockings or tights to complicate

things. Perish the thought that a disciplinary session should start confronted by

giant floral knickers or something equally hideous. He saw the lines, it

would do, soon she would learn, and it would be better. He sat down, leaving her

standing, told her that Mr Jarrold wanted to see her at 6pm to discuss

her Attendance record. Still smarting from her failed application, she could

not bring herself to try and discuss this morning's disasters with this man, seek

his sympathy, so she said nothing and waited. He looked at her quizzically,

then raised an eyebrow, eventually she said “Thank you sir.” He told her to go

back to her desk.

Given the rest of the day to think about it, Susan decided she was to get

a formal warning. It was quite good actually. That should be Abram's job

and clearly he was not sufficiently trusted to undertake all aspects of

department

management. She planned to make a profuse and feminine apology to Jarrold and

then try to start some kind of discussion about the running of the department.

They had had long enough to see what Abram was like, and clearly they had come to

the obvious conclusion and were gently taking responsibilities away from him. The

more she thought, the more it became obvious to her that this was a definite

opportunity. By mid afternoon she was

distinctly looking forward to it.

At the stroke of 6 she knocked on Jarrold's door. “Come in!” she walked in all

meek and every inch the little woman, ready to make her carefully

prepared measured apology. Susan was not very good apologizing, it was not

something she did, so what she had prepared which seemed to her entirely over

top, but would have struck Jarrold, had he heard it as so much weasel words, so

hung about with so many caveats as to be no apology at all. But he didn't hear

it.

She walked up to his desk and he started, “Your attendance record is appalling

!”,

“I know sir, I wanted to  ...”

“Shut up! I was talking. You will speak when you are told to!”

He went on to explain that the only way to deal with idle, insolent women

like her was to thrash some manners into them, and that she was going to be caned.

He told her to take her skirt off. She was completely stunned by what she heard,

it took a few moments to register before she gathered her wits and shouted “I beg

your pardon! I certainly will not! I will see my Solicitor in

morning!”, and turned ready to storm out. As she did she saw Abram come

through the door and lock it behind him, removing the key. In that instant she

became afraid. Lacking anything else to do she marched up to the door and tried

to open it, the she marched up to Abram and shouted in his face “Give me the key

!”. He slapped her so hard that she was knocked

sideways. Jarrold watched from his desk, he had waited a long time for this

and he did intend to miss any of the show. He wondered how Abram would

get on; she was turning out a real harridan, what a pleasure to watch him

tame her!

Susan straightened up, uncertain what to do next. She turned towards Jarrold

and started to walk, but Abrams stepped forward, reached round her, and in one

smooth move pulled the lapels of her jacket over her shoulder and yanked the

sleeves down her arms so that her arms were pinioned behind her back as he

twisted the collar of the jacket to tighten her arms together. He then

marched her to the back of one of the chairs round the coffee table and bent

her over it. She intended to fight him, she tried to kick him, but he was

entirely

unmoved. She could not believe how strong he was. It was so long she had spent

time with a man that she had forgotten how much stronger than her they

were. She wriggled and tried to free herself, she started to threaten him, but he

just slapped her again until she was silent. She realized she was crying,

and that she must not cry, she must fight back, surely with determination she

could overcome this, she must assert herself. But how?

Abram reached behind his back for a pair of handcuffs he had clipped to his belt,

then pulling the right sleeve of her jacket off he cuffed her right hand,

then he did the same for her left, leaving her hands cuffed behind her back

and the jacket on the floor. For her this was an important point, a line crossed,

and she wanted to pause and think about it, but there was no pause. Taking a

grip on the short chain between the two cuffs he yanked her arms high in the

air with his right hand, dragging her off the chair back. She let out a yowl, so

he slapped her again with his left hand, then taking hold of her left ear bent

down of said quietly in a measured tone “Shut up you silly little bitch”. He then

propelled her across the room by her ear and her raised arms to where there were

some coat hooks on the wall behind the door, one with a dog lead hanging from it.

He clipped the lead to her handcuffs, put it over the coat hanger, pulled it up

tight so that she was standing out of her heels to save the pain in her arms, and

tied it off. He stepped back to look at her, bent double,

her head down near her knees, hair falling in her face, gently sobbing. She had

given up all resistance now, she said nothing, not wanting another slap,

so physically confused she was unable to think her way forward. He slid the

zipper at the back of her skirt down, undid the waistband, and taking a firm hold

of both sides of the hem of the skirt tugged it down. It wasn't designed to come

off with her bent double like that, but he had the strength to force it. She

tried to kick him again at this new assault, “Try that again and I will knock

your legs from under you” he told her. She thought about what that would mean,

dangling from her tortured arms whilst her feet would scrabble to support her.

She didn't try to kick him again. He looked at her black lacy panties,

quite pretty, covering half the buttock, too much, although not a disaster,

not something he couldn't deal with. He wanted to leave her with something

over her pussy – he knew Jarrold liked that – and it gave him the opportunity

to lecture her about 'modesty', when she was almost naked.

Now that her skirt was off Susan expected that one of them would start

caning her. She wondered how much it would hurt, how many times they would hit

her. She got a shock as Abram reach round her from the back and

started unbuttoning her blouse. His hands brushed against her tits, not

deliberately,

but not trying to avoid them either. He pulled the blouse away from her body,

then undid the wrist buttons, then before she had the chance to ponder that this

was the inevitable next step, she felt him undo her brassiere and pull it over

head. Undoing each cuff in turn, and then resecuring it, he removed her blouse

and brassiere each arm as he twisted it. Her breasts dangled free and naked, she

was now wearing nothing but her panties. He reached under her

and took hold of her left tit cupping it and firmly gripping the nipple. He let

the

weight of the tit rest in his hand, then twisted the nipple, let go and

slapped the breast so it swung and jiggled. “Nice big tits aren't they?” he

remarked

casually to Jarrold. She couldn't see it, being bent double, but Jarrold grinned

and nodded. He liked large curvaceous shapely breasts, especially on women who

have to do as they are told.

Abram strolled over to the cupboard and got out the cane, laid on the table,

where she could just see. She could not take her eyes off it, for all that she

had to twist to see it. Thin, oiled, 4 foot long with a braid handle convenient

to

a man's hand. Slender and malevolent looking, she tried to stop herself thinking

about what it could do, would do. She looked at the handle, then

realized that would not concern her, and she could resist looking at the

brown tapering end, end part that would hit her, that would hurt her, that would

make her howl. He went back to the cupboard, and brought out the horse, folded

it out, laid out the straps to be neat and positioned conveniently for use. Then

he

fetched her, making her yelp as he raised her arms even higher to unclip the dog

lead, then propelling her by the ear across the floor to horse, her breasts free

and dangling, slapping together. She was sweating now, and very afraid,

every step in the process had frightened her more as it became obvious how well

organized, determined, and serious the whole process was, with its only purpose

to hurt and humiliate her. When they got to the horse he simply used his weight

to force her waist down onto the bar and secured her with the wide

strap. Using the wrist straps he bound her hands tight to the belt so that

she could not move them, then using the winder tightened up the belt until it

kept her very firmly in place. Now all possibility of resistance was gone, she

was caught naked and tied down, almost ready for beating. He caught legs and

put the loop of chain over her lower calf; the horse stopped her bringing her

legs forward, so she move them, but not much. Then he sat on her lower legs,

flattening them and dropped the bar behind her knees to keep her thighs firmly in

place, sloped at 30 degrees, fixed and waiting to be beaten.

With Susan fixed in place – she had said nothing since her initial

outburst because she was fearful of another of his slaps – he took a pair of

scissors from Jarrold's desk and proceeded to cut away the material of her

panties that

covered the cheeks of her bottom. Whether they would stay up now he didn’t care;

he leaned over and told her that he was leaving her panties on the “preserve her

modesty”, because after all, “we don't want you indecently putting your pussy on

view”. Modesty is so important in a woman, especially

when she is being thrashed. Susan had stopped worrying about all these

little humiliations, she now knew what was going to happen, and she had and

inkling of how much it was going to hurt, and that was really the only thing

that concerned her.

There was a pause, she waited, and then he said “I will give you six for

persistent lateness”. She wanted to shout “Persistent! But it was only once”.

But then

was it only once? She was only 20 minutes late once, but she had been 5minutes

late several times. He told her to keep her body horizontal and her head up, she

felt him bunch her long hair behind her neck and tie it with a ribbon. Then a

stepped back, picked up the cane, flexed it and measured it on her buttocks. The

touch made her bottom muscles twitch from her fear, then

he lifted it and brought it down with considerable force for the first stroke. A

ring smack of bamboo against bare woman flesh, closely followed by a loud

yelp from Susan. Counting 10 seconds off between each stroke he laid them on

her to make ladder of purple double stripes down her bottom, each

stripe developing and become more livid as the seconds passed. He hit her harder

than he had hit Lynne and he wanted to make sure that it really, really hurt.

After the second stroke she was whimpering between the blows, after the third she

howled at each stroke as she bucked and wriggled trying to escape. It did

her no good whatsoever, she could move a little bit, but not enough to

save herself. Pressing her thighs into the horse to escape some of the violence

of each blow made no difference either. He would beat her as pleased and make

her suffer as he thought best.

Jarrold had moved to the chairs round the coffee table and watched this whole

performance with engaged detachment. He was glad to see Abram making a good job

of her, it was clear that very much of this would soon teach her obedience and

humility, and he didn't mind how much she got, so long as she learned to behave.

Susan sobbed to herself as Abram lent down beside her, stroking her hair

and whispering in her ear. Talking gently as if to a nervous horse while she

cried and snivelled, breaking out into an occasional wail for the soreness of

her bottom and the loss of so much dignity and so many certainties. He

gently explained that she had brought it all on herself and if she had just

behaved as she should then none of this would have happened. He told her to thank

him

for correcting her and showing her the error of her ways, and she, contrite

and desperately anxious to escape this awful place thanked him as she was told.

“That's good” he said, “that's very good, but also have to deal with

the fighting. You have to be punished for that too”. She thought that she had

kept herself quiet and borne this new indignity with fortitude, but in fact she

wailed and sobbed in her misery as she realized there was more to come. “Now the

fighting this evening. I will not allow that, it was a most serious offence and

it

absolutely must be punished. I will give you ten for it (another wail from her)

and as I beat you, you can ponder how you should have behaved. You must

learn to be obedient and feminine, to be deferential towards men and anyone else

above you in the office. Always. When you are not you will find yourself

strapped here waiting for the whistle of my cane to remind you of what

is required”. All of this whispered while he delicately stroked her hair, she

too afraid of angering him to try to move her head away from his horrid touch,

too frightened to speak or argue against him, lost in her misery that she was

to have a further beating.

Her second thrashing took over two minutes, with her bucking and howling

and whimpering throughout, alternating between sobbing acceptance and desperate

efforts to break free of her constraints and strapping. Quite futile,

she was held firmly in place; but worse, she had dropped from the

horizontal between her beatings, so the first stroke didn't count, and during one

of her attempts to break free she lowered her head. She got another one for that

as

well. But eventually it was over, and she was released from the bars and straps,

told to go and face the wall, with her hands on her shoulders standing at

attention, and to raise her right hand when she had stopped crying. Abram

warned her that she would get five minutes by the clock to compose herself or she

would get another dose, “And I had better not hear a sound from you either!”

She stood there suffocating her sobs for some minutes whilst Jarrold and Abram

continued their discussion. She struggled to control her tears, to get herself

calm before the five minutes was up. The thought of more punishment was

intolerable and she had no means of seeing the time, every time the tears flooded

back she dreaded being told her time was up and she must submit again. She

understood now that she could not defy them – so she had stood as she was told,

said nothing, as quiet as a sobbing woman can be,

knowing that only obedience could help defend her from another thrashing.

Finally, when she felt that perhaps she restrain her tears now, still facing

the wall, she put her hand up.

“Come here!” from Abram. As she walked towards him he barked at her to put her

hands back on her shoulders, which she immediately did, suddenly frightened again

by her inadvertent disobedience. He told her to make coffee

for them, and as she walked toward the kitchenette she was told curtly to run.

So she ran, hands on shoulders with breasts bouncing, her bright red

purple striped bottom quivering and wiggling as she clattered along in her heels.

She

made a jug of coffee, laid the two cups on the tray, the milk jug. The briefest

examination of her buttocks with the tips of her fingers had confirmed

their extreme sensitivity and detected the ridging from the stripes on her, but

she had not dwelt on it, fearful that any dawdling would be detected and make them

angry. She walked out carrying the tray, but as she went to place it on the

coffee table she was told sharply to put the coffee things on the table, not the

tray. So she stood there holding the tray with one hand, bending over the table

carefully taking the crockery off it and placing it on the table,

trying desperately to avoid dropping anything and what might happen if she did.

She

hardly thought of her nakedness and her dangling breasts that shook and jiggled

as she worked. Jarrold couldn't take his eyes off them, and Abram just sat there

obviously enjoying her discomfort. The tray cleared, she set to pour the coffee,

taking the first to Jarrold, who motioned her to put it on the table,

then for Abram who kept her waiting, bending holding the saucer for him as he had

done with Lynne until he finally motioned her to put it on the table.

Jarrold said “Come here”, so she started to walk to him, and then remembered to

put her hands on her shoulders and run, in case it was required. As she arrived

her put his hands on his knees, palms up, and “put them in my hands”. It took

her a moment before she realized what he meant, and frankly, having her

tits felt, which would have totally outraged her an hour ago, was nothing now if

it kept him from getting angry. She found she could not reach down that far, so

she knelt before him and carefully lowered one tit into each hand, keeping

her hands on her shoulders. From when she came out with the coffee she had

kept her eyes lowered, too afraid to look them in the eye, wanting not to see

the look on their faces anyway, trying her best to not be there as much as

she could. Putting her breasts into his hands she could not avoid pushing her

face into his chest and belly. His manly smell filled she nostrils, his clothes,

his aftershave, and the deep primitive smell of his erect penis. She was

desperate

to avoid brushing against it, to avoid encouraging him. She hoped that fondling

would be all that Jarrold would demand, although commonsense told her she was

probably going to be raped. She was nearly shaking, but Jarrold didn't mind, he

just went on feeling her and calmly talking to Abram. He

opened his hands again “Shake them!” he commanded, so she had to do her best to

shake her breasts and rub her nipples against his palms. It was difficult

and tiring with her hands on her shoulders and her arms unable to give any

help. Then he removed his right hand to stroke her hair, so she now felt her left

breast slapping against his thigh. “Stand up!” she stood, “Shake them

again”. She did her best, but rather than an elegant little jiggle, the best

she could manage with her arms up was to make to make them swing violently

from side to side. Jarrold seemed to like it.

Jarrold finished his coffee, said goodnight to Abram, and left. Abram

supervised her folding the horse and putting it away, taking the crockery out

to the kitchen, giving her a firm bare handed slap on her bottom when she

didn’t move fast enough. Normally they would have stung, but her bruised

and battered skin was so tender that each slap was very painful. Eventually

Abram told her she could dress, and calmly watched her, telling her which garment

to select next. When she picked up her brassiere she was told it was not suitable

– she must leave it behind. Finally he said “Come here”, and she walked up to

him, not daring to disobey. “Closer!” she stood so close that her breasts

were nearly touching him through the thin material of her top, She had to

thank him again for disciplining her, and promise better behaviour for

the future. Eventually, she was out of the building, past the knowing smirk

of the Security Guard, her bottom smarting furiously and the bruising of

her muscles making her walk stiffly. The lining of skirt brushed against the

welts on her buttocks, now naked under her skirt where her panties had been

cutaway, sending frissons up her back from the tender skin. Every step

reminded her of what had been done to her, the burning pain meant she could not

for one moment forget what she had received, the physical subservience that she

had humiliatingly been obliged to offer. She had thought when it was going

on that when she escaped it would be over, but it was not in any way over, they had

taken control of her, if only for 40 minutes, but she could never get that time

back she could never re-establish a situation where they had not controlled and

abused her. She was angry to the point of fury, and through her tears her one

thought was for revenge and retribution. She would do

everything in her power to ensure that they were severely punished. Little did

she know.

Chapter Seven

She went straight to the Police Station, ten minutes walk away. She spoke to the

Desk Sergeant, said she wanted to speak to a WPC to report a very serious

matter. She knew her rights, knew how the police were supposed to handle these

things. It had been heavily publicized in years gone by. Of course, she

knew nothing; the recent changes had not been publicized at all, rather they had

been kept very quiet. The Sergeant was a middle aged man, past retirement, but

kept on because of the shortage of officers, he looked at her,

saw her indignation and dishevelment, and made his own assessment. He

arranged for her to interviewed by a WPC in a room with no cameras. A good man,

he had stuck his neck out, the proper interview rooms were available but he could

argue he was keeping them free for trouble later in the evening.

What trouble? There was never any trouble now, but he would claim that

old habits die hard, and it was only a woman. The WPC ushered Susan into the

room, got out her notepad and waited. Susan told her she had been beaten,

severely caned. The WPC asked by who, found out who had done it, who was there,

if she had a Guardian, if he knew she was here. Susan ran on beginning to vent

her anger and outrage until slowly it dawned on her that the WPC was just looking

at her, writing nothing down, just waiting.

“What is the matter?” she asked.

“You cannot report these things without your Guardian's permission. If I take a

statement he must countersign it before we can use in an investigation or it can

be used in Court. If he hears that you are here without his permission you could

be severely punished”.

“Right” said Susan, “I will go and get his permission straight away”.

“Will you?” asked the WPC, “I don't think you'll get it”. She knew who Jarrold

was and she had a vague memory of Morrissey, Susan's Guardian. It was clear

to her Morrissey would never countersign a statement against Jarrold even if

he wanted to, and she doubted that he would want to.

“Now you listen to me” said the WPC “I want you leave here, forget that you have

ever been here, forget that I have ever spoken to you, or we will both be in very

serious trouble. Times have changed, it’s not like it was. Go and see

your Guardian and see if he is prepared to do something for you, if he is we

can help you, otherwise you will just have to put up with it”. She wondered

why she put herself at risk in this way by help these women, someone would

shepherd, and when they did, well she tried to avoid thinking about that.

They walked out past the front desk and she assured the Sergeant that it was

not serious after all, she had lost her cat; you know what women are like about

that

etc. She had passed her own Sergeants exams a year ago, but hadn’t managed to get

promoted. Now she saw that all women officers above the

rank of Constable had resigned and left the service. Some months ago she had met

a woman in the High Street who had been an Inspector before she resigned. She was

a shadow of former self, when she asked her why she had resigned she became

confused and defensive and had hurried off. Just after

that she had been put under a Guardian herself and she began to understand what

was happening.

Susan went straight round to see Mr. Morrissey. He greeted her on the doorstep,

“What a pleasant surprise to see you here, but you haven't made an appointment”.

Her next weekly appointment was after the weekend, she

pleaded that she needed to speak to him urgently, could she please come in.

“Why?” he asked, keeping her on the door step.

“It's a problem at work, please I must see you”. Frankly he didn't like her

tone,

a woman has no right whatsoever to tell her Guardian that he must do

anything. He let into the house to her get off the street. He listened while she

told him an abbreviated account of the evening, with as little salacious

detail as she could manage. She was shocked when he said “Show me”. She

paused, didn't know what to do, then turned around and lifted the back of

her skirt a little for him to see. “No, properly, right up, all of it”, so she

pulled the skirt right up to her waist, front and back and stood there waiting.

She heard

him get out of his chair, she felt him come close as he examined her wounds.

“Well they have made a proper job you” remarked casually, “but there is nothing I

can do about it”. She was stunned by this, in spite of what the WPC had told her,

then he went to explain that if he complained she would be sacked, as a woman who

had complained she would never get another job. He

would not be able to support her, so she would end up in a Hostel like so

many others and with her daughter in Care. Even if he did complain, nothing

would-be done, it would never get to Court, and if it did there would be no

conviction.

He didn't like to spell out that the Court would not now disapprove of reasonable

chastisement of women employees. Finally she asked what she

should do. He advised her to be careful to follow the rules and be obedient,

don't annoy them. That would be the best way to avoid another beating. He

went on at length about the importance of keeping her job and how she would-be

well advised to do everything in her power to make sure she did keep it,

whatever was required of her.

Chapter Eight

She went to bed determined not to go work in the morning, but knowing she

must. The idea that they had the right to do what they had done, and would do it

again as and when it pleased them was scarcely credible. Clearly if they could do

that to whenever they chose, they could do anything to her. Her

neighbour had helpfully looked after her daughter after school and had

not pressed for an explanation of her late homecoming. She did not want to go

back to work, ever. But she knew that she must, that she would.

The following morning she was early. Margery grinned at her when she gave her the

attendance book, asked her she was looking forward to a sit down after the

journey in. She had spent the rest of last evening standing up, and had slept

face down. She had stood on the bus in to work, and hadn't thought about the

necessity of sitting, but she would indeed have to sit at her desk today.

At 10am Abram put his head round his door and shouted for her. As walked

towards him he shouted at her to hurry up, so she broke into the scurrying

half run that she had seen all the others do – she did not dare offend him. He

sat at

his desk and told her how she was to dress, the short skirts and thongs,

the strappy high heels and uplift 3/8th cup brassieres that did not fully cover

her

nipples, the thin tight tops. He made himself very clear, her skirts were

never to be more than three inches below her pussy, although she could wear

longer skirts until her welts had healed, or when he decided it was cold enough.

It

wasn't until she got home that evening and measured that she fully understood how

short that was. She was aghast, she owned no skirts that short but it had been

made clear to that have to get some, or take the consequences. She set

work with a needle and thread to recut her most fancy brassieres to leave part of

her nipple uncovered. She also had to modify the thongs that went with

them. He had told her that from the top of her pussy to the top of the thong must

be no more than two inches, she soon realized how tiny that is. She

wondered who would check, and how. She thought she could guess.

The following Monday she dressed herself in this strange outfit. Over the weekend

she had made each garment separately, but had not tried them all on together. She

hated the idea, deeply resented having to dress like a whore,

there was no other word for it, and put off the moment as long as she could.

But there was no getting away from it, now it was Monday morning and she must

dress, she must not, definitely not, be late. She found the brassiere gave little

support to her breasts, well it held them up, but it not hold them in place,

so that when she leaned over her daughter to pour the milk on her breakfast they

swung away from her body, free and very clearly outlined by her tight top.

The thong was no better, so tiny that it had not covered all her pubes. Afraid

of

what might happen if she left it like that she had trimmed the excess hair

with scissors to that they were not noticeable. It covered the lips of her pussy,

but she still felt naked and vulnerable, more so than if she had been

wearing nothing, as movement kept reminding her of how she was covered, and

every draft of air that went with it reminded her of how little she was covered.

Dressed like this she would have to take the bus to work! For the first time

she wondered how many other women amongst her fellow travelers were being forced

to dress in the same way. Perhaps lots of them. She didn't know. But

at least it gave her the reassuring thought that she was not alone. When she

checked in the mirror she found to her surprise that the welts had gone –

that meant that she would have to wear a short skirt, a very short skirt. The

skirt

was so short that it was almost impossible to sit without men being able to

lookup it, look up it and see not just some thigh but the little lacy black

thong she was wearing. She thought about this and decided to take a newspaper to

put-on her lap on the bus, which was all very well, but what would she do in

the office? Oh well, the office is mostly girls and there is nothing I can do

about it

anyway. And so, at 8:10, with her high heels clacking, bare legs flashing in

the sunshine, breasts moving and bouncing under her top, she set off for work.

Review This Story || Email Author: The Patrician

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