The Prisoner

Chapter 61

The people in the neighbourhood had always known the bleak and forbidding building as the Old Police Station, and this name had remained long after the constabulary had moved out to more modern premises. The three story Victorian building lay empty for some years until the need to establish the new Local Corrections Offices.

It took some months before the place was up and running. The function of the establishment was to provide a place where offenders released to work locally could be sent by their temporary owners for punishment should the offences or complaints be too serious or too distasteful for them to deal with personally. With the level of abuse that was becoming all too regular in the system it wasn’t long before the services on offer were increased to include relief milking sessions and many more varied forms of discipline than were officially sanctioned.

All that was necessary for the owner was for them to complete a simple online form.  After due consideration by a local committee, an appointment time would be sent back. The owner would then inform their charge of the date and time they were to report along with a list of pre-arrival procedures that would be required. Simpler events such as the infliction of a routine maintenance beating were dealt with by the prisoner arriving with a note from the owner in plenty of time for the arrangements to be made before the appointed hour. The journey was always to be by the local ‘bus service and with the new bright red ID cards that they were obliged to display everyone else travelling was sure to know their destination and therefore the purpose of the visit.

It had been made a policy that, with the exception of the Maintenance punishments, the prisoner was not to be told the reason or reasons for the visit so this would cause them to spend some time searching their minds for the offence that they had obviously committed and greatly increase their apprehension and fear level. Neither would they be told what the punishment would be until they had been secured over the punishment horse with a gag in their mouths to prevent protest or even comment.

The original intention was for the “Locals” as they became known, to be staffed with professionals from the Correctional Centres but the number of Locals being constructed and the expansion of the Correctional system soon caused a shortage of suitable ladies. It was decided to have the experienced wardresses in charge of the locals, but the majority of the punishments and treatments would have to be administered by local volunteers. The minimum age for recruitment was 18 and the maximum fifty-five provided that a basic fitness test could be passed. Uniforms were to be white blouses with plain blue ties, long black skirts and high heels. Shoulder tabs were worn with the shirt with “Volunteer” stitched in white. Unlike the regular wardresses no straps were carried but they did have one of the newer springy crops with a round leather tab at the end with a small hole in the centre.

The interviews were held in a formal setting at the nearest Correction Centre. Applicants were thoroughly questioned on their attitudes to inflicting corporal punishment and whether they had any experience. Those selected were then invited to attend the evening punishment session where it was arranged that heavy thrashings would be required.

This initial exposure ruled out those of a squeamish disposition and the ones that were left were subjected to intensive interviews to determine their attitudes to infliction of corporal type punishments on both male and female prisoners. The ones that were found suitable then had to pass a simple test where they were handed firstly a piece of paper detailing the complaint that had been raised on a prisoner, then a second that ordered a punishment with a medium weight strap and finally taken to a punishment room where a nervous male or female was awaiting sentence. Here they were expected to lay on one of the straps with sufficient enthusiasm that the staff would be inclined to offer them the post. Needless to say, the opinions of the prisoner were not called for. A period of probation was then served where the ladies dressed as wardress volunteers carrying out routine administration. They would then be given a list of various punishments that they would carry out to the satisfaction of a full time wardress before being fully signed off to lay on the punishments to the visiting prisoners.

The volunteers came from all sections of the community and in all shapes and sizes. The one uniting feature was that once they had changed from their day clothes into their uniforms they became authorised to inflict pain and as such create real fear in the minds of those they met in the building. The type of implement and number of strokes was always laid down by the full time wardress in charge so in theory the degree of punishment was controlled. However, the nature of the females who volunteered for such infliction ensured that there were always ways to be found to increase both the humiliation and actual pain that the prisoners would receive. Once the door to the punishment room had been closed and locked behind the volunteer lady and the hapless victim, no one would be any the wiser if subtle techniques were employed in a sadistic way that greatly added to the distress that the punishment was originally designed to impose.

All this information was, as yet, only a distant rumour to many prisoners in the community such as Lang. She had presented herself for inspection as ordered following her twelve slaps with the paddle by Miss Sophie. She had to face away from her male owner and ex-husband, stand with feet apart and then bend fully over raising her skirt over her waist. The very act of stretching the bruised flesh over her lower thighs hurt like hell but she knew better than to offer any objections.

She heard Miss Sophie enter the room and the discouraging clicking of the man’s tongue as he looked over the punished area.

“You have hardly reddened her at all Sophie, you really must learn to lay on the implement so that it really hurts. I will have to arrange more practice for you. As we have some of the neighbours dropping in for a drink tomorrow lunchtime, Lang here will be serving them...so she is bound to make the odd error that will need dealing with. As she knew some of them when she lived here it will be a real test of her humility and acceptance of her new status. Just make sure that you smarten her up before they arrive...a bath would not go amiss, I can smell her from here.”

Before falling asleep Lang started the long process in oiling the strap that was to be used for her Maintenance beatings. It seemed heavier than she expected and was still rigid and inflexible. She realised that she had only three days to work any flexibility into the cruel leather before it would be applied to her rear so she rubbed the oil in as much as she could before returning the strap to the hook over her bed where it was an ever present reminder of what was to come.

Following a restless night in her cell like room, Lang did indeed get her first bath as promised. She had served early morning tea in bed to the couple and was told to wait outside the adjoining toilet to await the convenience of Miss Sophie.

The young female eventually put her head out of the bathroom out and called Lang in. She was told that she could use the un-flushed toilet and then take a bath in the soapy cooling bathwater left by her owner.

The relief that Lang felt as she used the toilet was immense and the chance of getting herself clean overcame any inhibitions she had about using another female’s dirty water. By the time she had dressed again in the stale panties, old bra and her dowdy servant clothes she felt almost human.

Having gone downstairs she was given her orders to prepare for the arrival of the guests and even told who they would include. There would be just three female neighbours and one single lady. Those that had husbands would be consigning them to a day of golf along with Sophie’s husband. Not surprisingly Lang had known one of them in her previous life in the house. She had always struck her as rather arrogant and unkind and she knew instinctively that she would relish seeing her obliged to grovel to please her.

She was the first to arrive. When Lang responded to the door bell and opened it to greet her with a curtsy, she had a grin wider than her face at Lang’s appearance. She quickly showed her through into the large conservatory where the drinks were being served. The next lady was around forty years old, somewhat overbearing, tall and dressed in a  business suit covering her voluptuous figure. From the way she stared at Lang she knew that the woman spelt trouble for her, given half a chance.

She didn’t recognise the next lady either but then a woman arrived with a man she recognised as having been in the same Correctional Centre for a while. She was tall and slim in her mid forties and wearing a leather skirt with a white blouse. She made no attempt to offer any greeting but simply brushed past Lang as she curtsied respectfully. The male had dutifully followed the lady at a distance and parted company as she entered the front door to make his own entrance via the rear of the house.

With the help of the other prisoner-servant Lang served the canapés and drinks as quickly as she could in the hope of avoiding trouble. As she turned around, having picked up a full tray of drinks, she collided with the neighbour from hell who had carefully positioned herself on her blind side to cause such a collision.

The room fell silent.

She rushed to clean up the mess assisted by the male prisoner and as she was dumping the broken glasses in the trash heard the voice of her owner ordering her back into the conservatory.

She arrived to find the guests sitting around the edge of the room scarce able to keep the smirks off their faces. It seems that they had been promised a display of how to deal with prisoner servants along with their invitation, and now she had provided the excuse.

She was ordered to stand in the centre of the room. Miss Sophie stepped forward and gave her a stinging slap across the face. She then turned to the guests:

“I can but apologise for this error. These prisoner servants were supposed to have been trained before their release to the community but it seems that Lang here has chosen to disregard both her training and my reputation as a hostess. Clearly some form of punishment is required and I believe that it will be fitting if you all decide what it is to be.”

The well built lady in the business suit asked if she had been punished recently as in her view that might have kept her on her toes. Sophie simply ordered Lang to turn her back on the guests, spread her legs and touch her toes. She then reached over and casually flipped her skirt over her back to reveal her bunched up panties and the well bruised plump buttocks and thighs.

The woman with the male servant commented that she certainly kept her man in a more tender and receptive state so that he was in constant fear of having to take more punishment.

Such was the murmured interest shown by the other guests that she called him in from the kitchen. His glance took in Lang’s exposed humiliation and soon found himself in the same position next to her with his trousers and pants down to his ankles.

His buttocks and especially the back of his thighs were certainly more bruised than Lang’s and the newness of the bruising indicated a recent topping up. One by one the guests moved forward to run their fingers over the exposed flesh on both servants.

The business suited lady reached between his legs and pulled his dangling scrotum back between his thighs asking if his owner felt that punishments in that area were appropriate in the domestic environment. She was assured that should there be any sexual inappropriateness on his behalf she would certainly consider a genital punishment and he was due to receive one that night along with his maintenance beating for displaying an erection earlier in the day.

“That would be fascinating” remarked the heavily breasted female. “Would it be possible to bring the event forward so that we could all watch? I’m thinking of getting one of these prisoners myself and seeing how they should be disciplined would be most instructive.” The male’s owner looked enquiringly at the host, Sophie, who smiled her agreement immediately, offering to lend any equipment that might be required if the boy’s own implements were not close by.

Lang was despatched to collect the items the owner needed. They included her own punishment strap from beside her bed and a collection of implements from the punishment room. Following a whispered conversation between the owner and Miss Sophie, the latter left the room to collect a couple of items from the kitchen. When everything had been assembled the boy’s owner introduced herself as Amanda and started what would turn out to be a master class in domestic discipline for male and female servants.

Lang was told to adjust her dress and wait behind the guests who all sat in a wide padded sofa. The male, just referred to as “boy” was ordered to fully strip and stand rigidly at the present in front of them. He was around thirty, nearly six feet in height, well built with moderate body hair and short dark hair. He was very, very, nervous.

Amanda explained how this would be a demonstration of the regular Maintenance beating but would also include his weekly inspection and a dose of genital discipline. Before she even looked at the male she reached down and picked up his white cotton briefs turning them inside out.

“I firmly believe in carrying out unannounced inspections of underwear as well as regular ones such as this. I am looking for any signs...any signs... of penile activity that might indicate unauthorised self-abuse or even stains from a period in erection.” She then held the garment out to the ladies. “I’m afraid that such signs are present as you can see.”

She pointed out the slightest spot of discolouration in the crotch area.

“This will be dealt with in a while. For now, he is well aware that evidence has been found and that a price for this tumescence will have to be paid. I like to start by emphasising my authority so I need to change his position slightly.”

From the look on his face he knew what was coming as, following instructions he took his hands from on his head and placed them behind his back with the fingers gripping his opposite arm near his elbow. Standing back she then raised her right hand and brought it rapidly down across his face. Before he could even react, the same hand came back across his other cheek leaving both reddened. A barely discernable “Thank you Ma’am” came from the victim.

“It seems a shame to have Wendell here in front of witnesses without them contributing in some way” Amanda remarked looking at the well-built lady. She immediately stood up with a broad smile, announced herself as Louise Maxton, and said that she would be delighted to help out. Following Amanda’s advice she removed a large ring from one hand leaving just plain gold rings that she had been told would not cause any undue damage. Wearing high heels, she was as tall as the servant as she stood in front of him. She had a certain presence that encouraged him to brace hard without any further orders.

The right hand was raised behind Mrs Maxton’s head and brought down and round with a force that surprised everyone in the room, particularly the prisoner who was nearly knocked off his feet. As she raised her left hand he instinctively closed his eyes just before the hand hit his right cheek even harder. It left him shaking with either shock or fear and forgetting to offer his gratitude.

This error was immediately jumped on by Amanda.

“I’m sorry Mrs Maxton, but as the wretch has forgotten to thank you for your efforts, I will have to ask you to repeat the slaps.”

Louise couldn’t believe her luck. The afternoon was exceeding her wildest expectations. She removed her business jacket revealing a long sleeved white blouse. What had appeared to be a large frame shrunk as her waist firmly contained in the skirt was revealed. She was certainly wide around her hips but it was her thrusting chest that everyone noticed even under the blouse. Adding to the delay she then slowly rolled up both sleeves to indicate that she meant business.

She was much slower this time in taking aim. She really hit hard on the left cheek knocking his head to the side then slowly positioned herself to use her other hand all the while fixing him in her stare. This too seemed harder than the earlier one and he could hardly wait to stutter “T-t-thank you Ma’am!” with some enthusiasm.

“Not a good start Wendell. Your lack of respect for Mrs Maxton has placed me in a very embarrassing position, so don’t expect any sympathy from me if you find this little session unpleasant. You will now kneel down in front of these ladies and apologise for your behaviour by kissing each of their feet and stating that you are indeed sorry.” He started at the feet of Mrs Maxton who slowly uncrossed her legs placing her high heeled shoes on the carpet a little distance apart. Her tight skirt was above her knees and as Wendell changed from giving her right shoe a deferential kiss his eyes had to cross her slightly parted knees. He duly said “I apologise Madam for my lack of respect to you.” ...and then kissed her left shoe tip.

Next to her was Sophie wearing a loose cotton skirt. A she uncrossed her legs she deliberately planted her shoes over a foot apart. Wendell kissed her right foot, went to look up at her face to apologise, but stupidly was unable to control himself and looked up the skirt for a split second. Sophie pretended not to notice. Instead she waited until he had apologised to the other two females then stood up and blew her top.

“Amanda! I am amazed and disgusted at your servant’s behaviour. He deliberately looked up my skirt at my most intimate underwear whilst he was supposedly apologising. Just look at his wretched penis, he is even having an erection and displaying a total lack of respect for every one of us.” The other three women joined in the condemnation revelling in the look of terror that the boy now displayed along with the hardening appendage. It was only the briefest of glances with each lady...but as they had complained and he had erected, it would have to be dealt with. He was soon at the attention standing in front of them awaiting his fate.

His owner was fuming. “I can but apologise ladies for this display. I do have a way of dealing with the inappropriate tumescence that is usually effective. He seems to hate having it done but I don’t see any other alternative for us each to apply that particular discipline to him if you are all in agreement.”

She moved a large square leather footrest into the centre of the room and ordered the male to stand over it with a foot either side. He could only achieve this by taking up a semi-squatting position with his thighs well apart and his scrotum dangling and accessible. Placing his hands on the floor made his position even more vulnerable but ideally placed for what his owner had in mind.

“I suggest that we each administer a slap to the rear of his genitals. I find that this really gets through to him and tests his acceptance of my authority in remaining still and accepting the inevitable discomfort. As he will be receiving five such slaps today it should be a most beneficial experience. Perhaps if we allow...say... two minutes recovery between each application...he will have time to recover and think about his errors before the next one. I will go first to demonstrate.”

She knelt next to his left foot, supported herself by gripping his left thigh with her free hand and then gently stroked his scrotum with her other fingers. Flattening her right hand she brought it back to a few inches behind the target then with a sudden movement, slapped the rear of the exposed and hanging genitals. A grunt of pain came from the male as his knees flexed and body shuddered. He knew that he was required to remain in position and somehow managed it.

“It’s the subsequent slaps that really have the required effect ladies. Right now he is suffering a dull ache that extends up into his stomach but he knows that more is still to come and that he has no choice but to accept the pain.”

Mrs Maxton was next. Having positioned herself on her knees she reached between his legs and gently grasped his penis commenting how the treatment was already “doing him good” as his “stiffy” was fast disappearing. She then firmly grasped his testicles to remind him what was coming. When she was given the nod by Amanda she let go, moved her fingers back and then slapped the dangling bulbs with an audible sound.

This time his knees really buckled and he would have collapsed on the stool in the hope of protecting his testes, but Mrs Maxton re-took them in an even firmer grip and warned him to get back in position. Sophie stood up and moved towards him.

“I suppose that we should help him absorb the pain by letting him know what will happen if he tries to avoid our slaps.” She said with a smirk. “How about six strokes with a cane from each of us if he breaks position?” This was agreed by all the ladies.

Having gently lifted and lowered the sagging scrotum a few times Sophie gave it the sharpest slap so far causing them to fly forward until retrained by their own limits of elasticity.

Wendell could not believe that this was happening to him. He was shaking all over and a cold sweat had broken out all over his naked body. He knew that he simply must accept the slaps no matter how much the pain increased each time.

Mercifully the last two ladies seemed, by comparison, almost gentle with the slaps and he was soon back at the present in front of them. Despite his odd error they were more than impressed by the way he was receptive to their authority and knew that it was necessary to accept whatever they dished out.

Amanda admitted that she had found what she thought was the ideal way of keeping the male in permanent fear. She simply used the facility of sending him to the Local Correction centre at frequent intervals for what she termed “Remedial” punishments. Experience had taught her that despite her frequent efforts to beat some sense and obedience into him, a regular dose of what she thought of as professional discipline applied in formal conditions by an experienced lady disciplinarian really brought him up to a decent standard of servility and respect.

The ladies took an immediate interest in hearing about this facility and asked her to explain:

All she had to do when she felt that a little extra discipline was needed was to type in her complaint on the “Local” website and await an appointment being sent back. She would then let Wendell know, and the more notice he had, usually 36 hours or so, the greater the time to build up his stress level.

He would shower and present himself for a naked inspection, desperately trying to think what offence he had committed and therefore how severe his punishment would be. Amanda in turn would check his body for cleanliness but give no hint as to what had displeased her.

Fully dressed and with his red ID card prominently displayed he started the long journey by ‘bus to the centre. He meticulously followed the rules for prisoners travelling in public.  As well as keeping his ID clearly visible he stood for the whole journey even with seats empty all around him. He knew that any member of the public could take offence, either real or imagined and having noted the number on the ID, report him to the authorities who took a dim view of any such complaints. The word had certainly got out what happened at the end of that particular ‘bus route for anyone with a red ID card and he received several grins from other passengers who knew full well that he could only be on his way for a punishment of some kind.

In some ways his first visit caused him less fear and apprehension than the subsequent ones. Ignorance was indeed, in that context, relative bliss. The procedure to be followed had been printed out by his owner and memorised by himself the night before. He marched smartly up to the raised main reception desk where he was obliged to look up to a large black lady dressed in her wardress uniform. She was in charge of the whole centre and regularly took the reception position to meet all the day’s intake. Standing to attention he announced his name, remembering to add the title “Madam” at the end.

Chief Wardress Rathbone stared down impassively at him before checking her computer screen. She was tall with a firm body albeit larger than average. She had been a semi-professional athlete in her day specialising in weights and shot put and retained that air of strength from continuing use of the gym. Her hair was swept back in a formal bun that added to the appearance of a formidable woman who was not to be trifled with.

“Good Morning... “Mister”... Wendell”, she said with a sarcastic tone. You know the procedure I trust. First, change into your punishment clothes, then take a seat in the holding area and you will be collected when my staff are ready for you.”

He went in to the changing room and was given the standard white vest with a number in large black letters on both the front and the back, thin shorts and sandals all of which were designed to make life simpler for the staff and even more humiliating for the prisoners. He could well imagine that the females, obliged to wear just a thin un-supporting vest and small tight panties, felt even more vulnerable. 

Having stripped completely he donned the items and following the orders of the young wardress drank a pint of water that she poured “To keep him properly hydrated” then marched over to the entrance to a large well lit room from which the door had been removed. In it, sitting at a desk with a computer terminal was one of the junior volunteer officers aged around 18 years. She nodded at Wendell and pointed to one of the rows of low wooden benches on which sat other prisoners awaiting the convenience of a staff member. The benches were arranged in a row one side of the room for males, with the other row facing them for females. There were three males and four females all with the combined look of dread and inevitability on their faces. One of the females, a 25 year old slim blonde had clearly already visited one of the punishment cells and sat sobbing and sniffing into a paper tissue.

The benches themselves were designed to add to the ordeal. Instead of a flat surface they had half inch metal ridges running from the front to the rear every two inches. No attempt had been made to smooth off the edges. A one inch raised ridge indicated where their anal cleft was to be positioned. Given that most punishments were inflicted across the victim’s seat, these ridges were designed to press across the stripes greatly adding to the discomfort. Prior to any punishment they were just uncomfortable, especially if any other beatings had been laid on in the preceding days. Following a recent thrashing however, they would be agonising. Additionally, the benches were low to the floor causing the prisoners knees to be much higher than their hips. This had the effect of forcing more of their body weight on to their throbbing buttocks and tightening the skin in the area. With the females being required to sit with knees wide apart, this caused them to display their pantied crotch even more blatantly than normal.

To increase the fear and anticipation the system denied the victims any idea of what they were about to receive and they were kept waiting for an inordinate time. Additionally, each one of them returning to the holding cell having been dealt with was required to stand in front of the group and state what they had just received before taking their seats.

Just as Wendell had found a moderately comfortable position a plump forty year old female marched in. Her face was flushed and tear stained but she managed to compose herself and announced her name adding:  “ My punishment was 12 strokes of the strap across my naked buttocks and thighs.” before taking her seat with some exclamations of distress, with her knee high position fully revealing the red band marks on the back of her upper thighs

Nothing happened for many long minutes. Around the walls were several notices designed to put the prisoners’ nerves even more on edge: “No protests of any sort accepted” and next to it “Any prisoner making any complaint or criticism shall be liable to additional punishment at the discretion of any staff member.”

One notice stated “Prisoners are advised to relieve themselves before each punishment. Those wishing to do so should ask a staff member for permission.” In itself this caused them to feel discomfort and the need to use a toilet. There was one supplied at the far end of the waiting area in full view of everyone and it wasn’t long before a tall extremely slim female prisoner stood up and marched to a position in front of the staff desk. She executed a curtsy to the young girl and, with a blush, asked for permission to relieve herself.

The girl, clearly one of the new group of volunteers, glanced at her VDU then looked up at the prisoner:

“No! Come back in fifteen minutes and ask again girl!” the staff female snapped. Having checked her VDU she knew that the girl would be collected for punishment in less than fifteen minutes and that sending prisoners to the punishment cells with a full bladder could only add to the amusement of her colleagues giving them more scope than ever for further humiliations and pain infliction.

A thirty something female in Nurses uniform appeared at the open door and called out Wendell’s number. Covering his surprise that he was to get it over with so early he leapt to attention and snapped out a smart “Ma’am” in response. He soon found himself following the nurse, not downstairs to the punishment cells but up a long flight of steps. She opened a door labelled “Clinical Milking Room” and walked inside followed by Wendell.

The room had white walls ceiling and floor with large windows. A strong smell of antiseptic hung in the air and around the walls were various stands, boards and furniture designed to hold prisoners who were receiving the medical attentions of a staff nurse. Wendell could only assume that he was to receive a medical examination and was somewhat shaken when he was told that his owner had requested that he be milked before he was punished on the basis that he was due for a regular milking and also that she felt a thorough milking before he was punished would help concentrate his mind. He knew only too well that the policy of making the “extraction” as unpleasant as possible would be fully followed in this room and the thought of that and the ill-treatment to come made him more than nervous.

Just then there was a knock at the door and in walked two young females dressed in street clothes rather than a uniform of some sort. With a snigger the taller of the two with long fair hair in a pony tail wearing a tight business skirt and blue blouse announced to the Nurse that Chief Wardress Rathbone had said that as they were in the building as part of a work experience scheme, they could watch the procedure and then witness the subsequent punishment of the male. The younger, shorter girl in glasses with long dark hair wearing a thin shirt top and a short denim skirt nodded enthusiastically in agreement. The Nurse asked if this was their first visit and they both nodded adding that they had been looking forward to it for days as they eventually hoped that it would lead to a part time job as a disciplinarian in the Local.

Shrugging, the Nurse said that it would not be a pleasant sight to watch, but they would have to learn sooner or later how the males were dealt with and the sooner they both got started the better.

She then turned to Wendell and ordered him to remove his vest shorts and sandals then assume the present position in the middle of the room. He glanced nervously at the two girls, then removed and carefully placed the items on the floor then braced himself into the present.

“This is a good position for him to hold to start your training ladies” remarked the Nurse. “This ensures that he is fully exposed and you have complete access to any part of his body for an inspection. He is also required to maintain that position even though you may be a little harsh in your examination.

Despite his best efforts at self control, Wendell felt his penis start to erect as a result of the humiliation of being so exposed to the three women. One of the girls noticed it first and with an exclamation of disgust, pointed it out to the nurse.

“Mmmm...well...you must expect a fairly frequent loss of control such as this when dealing with male prisoners. I could have him punished on the basis of insolence but as we are here to milk him I will overlook it this one time. Have you both handled a male’s genitalia before?”

The elder of the two nodded that she had and she was chosen to start, but this was clearly to be a first for the other girl. First she was told to feel the nipples to see how they responded and how they were almost as sensitive to pressure as were the female variety. She was told that when a male was up for a Genital Punishment these were a useful point of pain infliction as well as the “lower” bits. Following the nurse’s suggestion to give them a good squeeze she did just that resulting in a grunt and twitch from the male. As she released them the younger girl needed no encouragement and went straight in with her long nails which caught Wendell by surprise. As she dug the nails into his now pronounced teats he almost doubled up in pain but even as he lowered his arms to relieve the tightness of his nipples that she gripped so tenaciously, a sharp “Keep still Boy” from the nurse made him stand back to the present despite the continuing pain from her grip.  When she did finally release his nipples it was not only Wendell who realised that the girl was unusually sadistic.

The nurse handed out latex gloves and all three pulled them on to their hands with loud clicks as they released the elasticised cuffs around their wrists. She grasped the penis and started her lecture.

“Start by uncovering the end if the male is uncircumcised and checking the area for general cleanliness especially around the rear of the glans whilst holding the foreskin hard back. Rubbing one finger tip firmly around the ridge should reveal and deposits or you can use something like a wooden toothpick instead. Do lift the penis up so that the underside is fully exposed.

Then move down to the scrotum, bearing in mind that it is impossible to thoroughly examine this area without some discomfort for the subject, but Wendell here knows better than to complain or try to impede your efforts. Feel the shape and condition of each testicle between your fingers and also the other contents of the scrotum until you are satisfied that there is nothing untoward. Don’t worry about knowing what is normal and what is not, if you are selected to work here you will have to handle several males every day and will soon learn to recognise any problems.”

These inspections were universally hated by all the male prisoners. Having to stand, naked and fully exposed whilst any of the female staff, or in this case two young girls who had walked in off the street to satisfy their curiosity, groped squeezed and pulled your most private parts was bad enough. But the pain and discomfort that they always seem to cause in the pursuit of being “thorough” always made it worse. These two “trainees” proved to be no exception to that rule.

The taller girl went first. She was certainly firm, especially running her finger round the glans but at least she went easy on the contents of his scrotum. Not so the younger dark haired female. Despite her claimed lack of experience she managed to have him gritting his teeth from her first grip of his penis. Somehow she managed to force his foreskin so hard back that it hurt, especially when she used her other hand to scrape around the base of his glans with a sharp nail that she had cleverly forced through the thin latex of her glove.

She then knelt on the floor in front of the male so that her eyes were almost on a level with his genitalia. She reached forward and soon had a testicle gripped firmly between the fingers and thumbs of each hand. She rolled the sensitive bulbs around as if handling fruit in a market then suddenly utilised the protruding nail to jab the right testicle causing him to gasp and bend forward. She looked over at the Nurse and smiled as Wendell was shouted at by her to remain in position. He was relieved when she reduced the pressure and started to feel all around the dangling sack exploring the internal connections that reached up into his body. With a final squeeze of both testes she stood up and moved away.

“Well ladies” the nurse continued,” the next part of the examination is pretty revolting but entirely necessary.” She went on to explain the location and function of the male prostate and soon had their subject kneeling on a bench with his head well down and facing away from them. The nurse then ordered his knees to be spread and back arched to present his anal cleft as much as possible. She supplied some lubricant for the two females to spread liberally on the fingers of their right hand, the younger girl having sensibly changed her glove for one that was intact.

It didn’t take long. Wendell knew better than to clench or resist in any way and was relieved that the cream they had used didn’t contain any substance that would irritate his delicate membranes, as it so often did during anal examinations.  They both pressed and rubbed against his prostate with two fingers firmly and uncomfortably inserted as deeply as they could into his rectum. Both were removed with a loud plopping sound and he was told to stand back at the present.

“We will now attend to the milking. Remember, this has to result in an ejaculation but we are required to make the whole process as unpleasant as possible so that it will not be looked forward to with anything but apprehension in the future. There are a variety of ways he can be presented for our convenience and as I normally insist on trying for three spurts from each male, we can try one each. The first position will be at the “present” as he is now. If you would both care to change your gloves for these heavy duty rubber ones you will notice that they are heavily ridged to enable you to get a proper grip.”

Having determined that one was left handed and the other right, she soon had a girl seated at right angles either side with their parted upper thighs gripping him just above the knees. The young one was instructed to hold the dangling scrotum to stop any bouncing whilst the other lubricated her right hand, snatched his foreskin fully back and started to pump the shaft up and down. Once a rhythm had been established and the male started to make small movements of his pelvis in response, the nurse stopped the girl and handed her a small tin. Following the nurses instructions she applied a liberal amount of what she realised was crystals of rock salt then resumed pumping but at a greatly increased speed.

The male’s reaction was instantaneous. From experiencing a pleasurable sensation from the small gloved hand the crystals were now being dragged along the shaft and back scratching at the retracted foreskin and throbbing glans. The pace was increased to maximum and the grip on his legs increased. Despite the stinging pain, the massage of the shaft was still stimulating and he suddenly felt the surges of an ejaculation, an ejaculation that he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

With more pain than pleasure he spurted into a glass jar that the nurse had suddenly produced and held just clear of his penile tip.

“That, ladies, was not the most satisfying experience that this male has ever had, but believe me, the next two will be far worse. His penis is already a little sore but we will make it even more tender in this next position.”

She soon had him back in the position he had held for the prostate examination. This time his rapidly re-erecting and reddened penis was hanging down between his legs. The younger girl with dark hair was given the task of extracting more ejaculate. On the nurses advice she sat behind him and reached up to grasp the penis from between his thighs. She played gently with the penis to ensure that the male started to enjoy the experience. In no time she was pumping with her small hand encircling the shaft and rubbing up and down from the tip almost to the base.

She took her time and stopped frequently for the nurse to judge his readiness. Eventually the nurse gave her some cream to spread liberally on her hand before she started to rapidly pump again.

The cream contained some sort of chilly extract.

The burning cream was rubbed hard into the sensitive tissue and combined with the eroticism of what was happening the male, with a strangled moan, ejaculated into the nurses waiting jar.

“When a male is here for a routine milking I normally only allow one ejaculation.” said the nurse. “In this case the object is to remove even the slightest sexual thrill that he might have from being punished so I do my best to drain them as much as possible. There is no guarantee that this boy will provide a third sample but we will do our best. In case he has any thoughts about holding off and not co-operating we will let him know right now that such behaviour will be punished. By now he may well be sore and very tender in that area but there are still a few tricks that we can employ.”

For the third milking the nurse elected to have him securely strapped down on his back to a table with his legs spread and securely strapped to two arms that came out of the end of the table. This left his genitals hanging free.

The elder girl was detailed to sit between the spread legs giving her hands full access to his now sensitive parts. The other was told to stand at his head which was just below waist high to her. For some time the seated girl gave him gentle massage to his shaft and glans until it started to harden. The state of his penis caused him to complain with deep groans, even though the overall effect was erotic to him. The rate of pumping was increased and despite the pain, Wendell found himself responding and he tried to lift his head to look at his masturbatrix. At this point the nurse nodded to the younger girl, who, blushing deeply lifted herself up so that the males gasping face was trapped under her short skirt. He now found himself staring up at her panty clad crotch just before the daylight was extinguished and his nose and mouth were almost totally covered by the thin material.

At this point the other girl slowed down to take some proffered lubricant from the nurse, then went back to pumping with renewed energy and speed. It was more of the chilly based cream and the pain level for his stretched and retracted foreskin and glans went off the scale. With a loud scream into the panty face mask he felt the surge of the orgasm and the ensuing wave of shame that his self control had been completely taken away from him by these young girls.

When released he was ordered back to the present as the now giggling females took their leave with several backward glances at the male they had so effectively humiliated. When the paperwork had been completed the nurse ordered him to dress and proceed downstairs.

                   It was a very subdued male who found himself back in the waiting room. His penis throbbed and felt completely raw but at least he realised that a compromising erection was beyond his capabilities for some time. A tall slim female officer entered with a clipboard and called out a number. The 40 year old female prisoner was still there and with a look of surprise she sprang to her feet and snapped to attention.

With a look of some boredom the staff lady informed the woman that she was next for punishment and to follow her. The woman gasped with shock.

“But Madam...I have been punished and was waiting to be released.” She wailed in desperation. The staff member on the desk searched through her data and was soon joined by the officer with the clipboard. There had obviously been a mistake... but where?

It took several minutes to resolve: It would seem that there had been a mix up with the numbers on the shirts and the woman had received a beating that had been ordered for another female sitting in the room.

The attitude of the staff was simple: She still had her visit to the punishment room to complete as whatever had happened in error, she had yet to receive the punishment that was scheduled for her. Glancing nervously at the posters on the wall that prohibited any questioning of authority the woman pleaded to be let off as she had already been severely beaten and clutched her still throbbing buttocks in the hope of eliciting sympathy.

Just then Chief Wardress Rathbone happened to walk in having obviously overheard the pleading. Her comments were as impassive as her face as she agreed fully with the decision by her staff. She took the clipboard from the officer and consulted the sentence that had been decided.

“Add four strokes for questioning authority” she muttered. “And remember that no allowance is to be made for any existing marking from any earlier beating. She obviously has much to learn about the way we do things here. She seems all to ready to blame officers for what seems to be a genuine error on someone’s part. I think we should take a couple of these other prisoners along with her so that they can see how she is dealt with and spread the word that we do not tolerate any nonsense in this establishment.”

She quickly pointed out a girl prisoner of around 20 years and Wendell as witnesses. The officer with the clipboard ordered the now shaking female and the two witnesses to follow her, leading them down the ominous stone stairs into what had been the holding cells. Each had been extended and was now a punishment room. Each was numbered as it would seem that the equipment within varied to accommodate whatever punishment had been decreed.

The original doors were still in place but could now be opened and closed from the inside. It was left open as the officer indicated to the prisoner witnesses that they were to stand with their backs to the far wall and facing a padded wooden horse that the victim would have to mount. The temperature in the room was chilling and did nothing to stop the prisoner shaking. There was a strong smell of toilets. The walls were plain brickwork and painted white with a stone floor and high ceiling illuminated only by a small window set high in one wall. When the officer flicked some light switches the area of the horse was brightly illuminated as were the racks of straps, canes and other devices on the walls.

“For the benefit of you two” said the wardress, “I will explain the system in here. First the prisoner will strip stark naked then mount the horse. I will secure her to the device with Velcro straps around her arms and legs and finally a thick leather belt will be pulled over the small of her back that will present her buttocks and thighs for punishment.”

“Right girl, strip off and mount as you did earlier.”

The woman knew better that to argue or delay. She quickly slipped off the vest, panties and sandals and climbed up on to the horse. This consisted of a leather covered sloping support for her body that forced her buttocks high one end and her head lower at the other. Either side and away from the body were padded wooden boards to support her arms and legs. This, with the legs in particular, forced her thighs and knees to be spread indecently wide so that her intimate areas were fully displayed. Even though she was unshaved, her genitalia and anus were fully exposed and it was a measure of the woman’s fear of what was to come that this did not seem to concern her. The savage marks of her previous beating were even more apparent and reached down to the top few inches of her plump thighs. Vertically down across the weals were the indentations caused by the seating in the waiting room. Finally the strap went over the small of her back and forced the buttocks even higher.

Neither dared comment, but they were both puzzled by a stainless steel plate that was fitted to the horse behind the woman’s crotch. It led down into a funnel device that pointed down to a stainless steel bucket on the stone floor. Noticing their interest the wardress explained that it was a new idea so that prisoners who were unable to control their bladders when awaiting or during punishment would minimise the unpleasantness for the staff assigned to be there. Wendell immediately realised that this had been the reason for the insistence on them drinking a pint of water when they first arrived and accounted for the smell that lingered in the room.

She then took a well worn soft leather ball gag that had been steeped in a jar of disinfectant and ordered the victim to open wide, forcing the soggy smelly ball into her mouth and securing it behind her head.

“Believe me, when you two have been through this, or when you think back to your other beatings in the system, you will appreciate being totally unable to move or make the sort of inappropriate comments during the punishment that would earn you extra strokes. The strapping and gagging is something of a benefit.”

Without any more explaining she picked up a container from the nearby table and lifted out a swab held in a pair of plastic forceps. The smell of strong antiseptic hit their senses. She carefully swabbed a generous amount of the cold liquid all around the inflamed buttocks, thighs and anal cleft. It took a few seconds for the coolness to wear off and the astringent component to kick in resulting in considerable struggling against the straps and much shouting into the gag.

She then picked up the clipboard and standing in full view of the victim, read out her sentence for the first time.

“Your owners have complained that you have been far too casual about your work for them in the last week and on many occasions have failed to accord them the respect that is required. They believe that you need a good beating to bring you back in line. Their recommendation is for 12 strokes of the medium cane across your buttocks and upper thighs. This has been approved and the Chief Wardress has increased it by four strokes for your earlier dissent. The cane will be administered by Mrs Collins whom I will call in just one moment. This is your opportunity to empty your bladder without attracting any penalty, I advise you to take it.”

The wretched woman knew that this was no idle threat. There was a silent pause then she released control and the two witnesses saw how efficiently the new device collected the flow. When the somewhat noisy process stopped and just a thin patch of steam came from the stainless steel the wardress picked up the ‘phone.

“Mrs Collins? Your next punishment is ready when you are Ma’am. She has been told the sentence the penalties for her dissent and swabbed down.  We have two prisoners present who have been detailed to watch by the Chief Wardress.” The wardress then took up a position near the door.

It took several long minutes for Mrs Collins to arrive, during which the room was in total silence apart from the muffled sobs of the prisoner. As she entered the room the wardress snapped to attention rapidly followed by Wendell and the girl witness. Mrs Collins was a short heavily built woman in her early forties. She had short fair hair and was dressed in a uniform skirt with a short sleeved blouse open at the neck. She was one of the new breed of volunteer ladies and was normally employed as a security guard in a local departmental store. Her satisfaction and enjoyment with her new part time job was not displayed on her severe looking face. Instead, a look of boredom mixed with irritation was the only clue as to her emotions.

She clicked her way around the horse in her uniform knee boots carefully observing the woman from all directions then running her finger tips over the weals from the earlier infliction. Using both hands, she pulled the cheeks apart to check how much the strapping had penetrated the anal cleft noting the thin red line caused by the searing ridge before taking up a position facing the woman’s head. She then took down an electric probe from the wall rack, adjusted the setting on the handle and reached under the woman to lift her left hanging breast with the tip against the nipple. She had just explained to the witnesses that this was to assess if the prisoner was fully secured and gagged when she pressed the discharge button. A loud muffled yelp was heard through the gag and all of her arms and legs flexed against their securing straps. She then repeated the shock to her right breast and finally by pressing the tip just inside her exposed anus and pressing the discharge satisfied herself that the woman was indeed secured.

“Right then girl, you have twelve strokes to take plus four more for your continued stupidity and refusal to obey the rules. The fact that there has been a minor slip up with your earlier punishment is no concern of mine and I will be taking no account of your somewhat tender backside. I intend that you will feel each of my strokes to the full. You two witnesses should pay close attention as you are both due for punishment today and may well be meeting me later.”

She then unbuttoned her uniform shirt and removed it leaving her heavy white support bra exposed. The shirt, with its damp underarms visible, was hung on a convenient hook on the wall. She nodded to the wardress who closed and locked the heavy door which was a further indication of the total inevitability of what was to happen. She went to the rack of canes and selected a couple of long acrylic ones with moulded handles muttering to the wardress that she found them more pliable and less likely to damage the skin than a bamboo version. She practised swishing both and replaced one on the rack holding the selected one for the wardress to disinfect with the swab from that had previously been wiped over the target area.

She then moved to the rear of the victim and swished the cane a few times to further enhance her feeling of total vulnerability. Then, with a few gentle taps on the target part of the upper buttocks, the cane was raised back over her right shoulder and suddenly brought whistling down to impact on the already sore flesh.

As the second stroke was applied, the first weal was already visible against the already reddened skin. Over and over again the plastic rod was brought down to form another line the sum of which moved inexorably down the plump buttocks towards her thighs.

There was no sound from the woman, she had decided on the futility of protest and simply lay there absorbing the pain that had been allotted to her by the system. The final two strokes were laid across the tops of her parted thighs and came close to marking her most intimate area.

Both witnesses were unmoved by the suffering they were observing just feet in front of them. They knew that it would be them strapped down later in the day and should they express the slightest sympathy of objection to this prisoner’s treatment, they would soon be told to change places with her.

Mrs Collins closely examined the now wealed buttocks. She said that she intended to lay the four penalty strokes across the thighs, but as they were well apart this wouldn’t be possible. Instead she would lay four strokes across each tightened thigh in turn so that the female would not feel that she had been let off in any way.

She carefully took aim on the left thigh and delivered four rapid strokes just below the earlier pair at the overhang of the buttock. She then delivered four to the other side just as swiftly.

Without a break she then announced that the punishment was over and that the victim was to allowed a five minute recovery before being un-gagged and unstrapped and the two witnesses were then to make their own way back to the waiting area. With a brief “Carry on!” to the wardress who was unlocking the door, she departed.

Wendell was already seated in the waiting area when the woman reappeared and had to announce her offence and sentence between sobs and sniffles. The duty staff member gave her a clutch of tissues and nodded towards the waiting bench which she sat on with even more exclamations of distress. She was directly opposite Wendell but still had to spread her legs displaying her panty crotch to him. He could only speculate how much extra pain would be caused by the position of having her knees higher than her bottom with all the weight on that area.

It would be nice to think that this was the end of the days suffering for the woman, but as Wendell was to learn when he had a chance meeting with the woman some days later, it most certainly was not.

She told him that dressed in her ridiculous schoolgirl uniform, she had made her uncertain way back to her owner’s house on the ‘bus clutching the official looking envelope with her Report Sheet inside. She had no intention of sitting down even if that had been allowed. Her owners were a couple in their sixties who had gone to considerable lengths to arrange for “Jennifer” as they called her to be assigned to them. Outwardly they appeared to be your average concerned and caring couple but as Jennifer knew only too well, the reality of her position was markedly different. They had both lived abroad and worked for the British Government in several distant places. They had been used to servants and had no intention of giving that life style up now they were retired. The ability to use and abuse a servant was something that they had always hoped for but never achieved until now.

Jennifer knocked on the rear door and it was opened immediately by “Madam”. She was shorter than the average with swept back gray hair into a bun. She wore half rimmed glasses which conveyed the impression that she might be a school mistress or something similar. Her figure was still slim with matronly breasts obscured by a dark blue dress underneath which she preferred, as Jennifer knew too well, supporting underwear and stockings from a previous generation.

“Well, young lady, you certainly took your time.” She snapped. “You will make and serve tea to Mr Henderson and myself in the sitting room...and be quick about it!”

There was no mention of how she had been treated at the Local, why should there be thought the woman. They had sent her to be beaten and that was that. Jennifer quickly produced tea and biscuits for two on a silver salver next to an envelope containing her report from the local, then walked into the sitting room to find the Hendersons sitting on a long sofa as she knew they would be. She put the salver down in front of them, backed away, bobbed a curtsy and said.: “Tea is served Madam,..Sir.”

Mr Henderson eyed her up and down in his usual manner. He was tall and well built with grey hair and a weather-beaten face.

“Ah yes Jennifer...I had forgotten...you were sent for a beating today in an attempt to sharpen up your attitude to work in this house were you not? I trust they dealt with you as we requested. Hand me your report girl and it had better be complimentary.

Nervously Jennifer handed him the envelope with another curtsy before walking backwards to her original position. He opened it and pulled out two sheets handing the second to his wife. He slowly read the report with his eyebrows indication surprise at some of the comments.

“I really can’t believe that even you would question the staff Jennifer. I see that you received an extra four stroke for it...I’m surprised that it wasn’t more. And all because they made a simple mistake with the first punishment.”

Jennifer knew that she had to agree and go along with the man’s utterly unfair comments. She simply looked at the floor and muttered “Sorry Sir.”

“Well” he continued, “Let’s see what all the fuss was about shall we? Turn around, bend right over and raise your skirt.”

She did and waited for some indication of sympathy. She realised that her bottle green school knickers that Mrs Henderson insisted she wore covered up most of the buttocks, but surely the weals across her thighs should be visible under her suspenders that reached down to hold the black stockings up.

“Mmm...well things look pretty good from here apart from the bruises across your thigh backs and they can’t hurt that much even though you richly deserved them. Now,” turning to his wife,  ”What does the other letter tell us?”

Mrs Henderson seemed most excited.

“Well dear, they are expanding the treatments that they have on offer at the Local. They are training a small number of males in inflicting corporal punishments so you can ask for your servant to be dealt with by a male officer should you feel that to be more effective. You can now send both males and females for Genital punishments and they have trained up some junior nurse volunteers to give a daily cover that they hope to extend to weekends eventually. Routine milkings for the owners of males who find the procedure unpleasant is now available at all the normal opening times and they are considering offering female relaxations, as they call it as well. Now...well...here is something for us...they have permission to introduce breast punishments from the start of next month. Apparently the delay is caused by the time it is taking to train up volunteers. I have often thought that Jennifer here could benefit from such a punishment.”

Mr Henderson looked concerned. “Did you have your breasts punished when you were inside Jennifer?” Blushing, Jennifer told them that she had received nine breast cane strokes on each breast just the once, and had to explain how three were laid on the upper surface, three on the lower and three across each nipple.

He snorted in disbelief. “Yours droop so much girl that I fail to see how they could get the cane to the underside! Let’s have a look at them...strip to the waist!”

Jennifer knew this would happen, sooner or later he would find some excuse to humiliate or hurt her and all she could do...dare do...was to obey. She quickly removed her tie then her shirt exposing the heavy old fashioned bra that she had to wear above the restrictive white body corset that squeezed her waist so tight. The bra was soon laying on a table with the other items and she was at the present.

“There you are,” he snarled, “half of the lower surface is clinging to her chest.”

That was indeed true. : She was a large girl in that area and although her breasts were superbly shaped even their owner would agree to a little sag. Mrs Henderson stepped forward, gripped both of the large nipples in a fierce grip with her fingers and lifted the breasts up high. “There you are dear...all exposed on the soft underside.” Then let go suddenly.

Mr Henderson stood up and spent several minutes doing the same lifting and then groping her breasts as she usually did.

“It would certainly be another way we could keep this girl in check.” He mused. “It will be something that we would like to be kept informed about so I think we should reply and express interest my dear.”

After that Jennifer was left alone and apart from serving dinner she was allowed to remain in her room attending to various sewing tasks. When it reached nine o’clock and she could hear them watching one of their favourite shows on TV she permitted herself some hope that they would forget that this was a Wednesday and that her maintenance beating was due at 10pm. She really didn’t think she could take any more as her buttocks and thighs were still sore and throbbing from their earlier treatment. The slightest touch or even sitting on a soft surface hurt like hell. It would be a gamble to ignore reporting to them, but she decided to risk it.

Sure enough, the time came and went and nothing was heard from them. Following routine she changed into her pyjamas and prepared for bed ready to spend a restless night on lying on her front. At ten thirty precisely the call bell by the side of her bed rang and her heart sank: she was being summoned. Hoping that she was required for some simple task she went to the sitting room but realised from the atmosphere that she was in for it. The TV was turned off and she was told to stand in front of the sofa, yet again. Mrs Henderson started the interrogation in a calm quiet voice that Jennifer knew only too well presaged something deeply unpleasant for her and she was frightened, really frightened.

“What day is it Jennifer?” she asked and having received a reply went on to ask “And what time is it?” Having received the answers she then coldly asked: “Jennifer, what are you supposed, no required to do, at exactly 9.45 on a Wednesday night?”

Mumbling and shaking Jennifer responded: “Report to you Madam with my maintenance strap in my hand ready to pass it to you.”

“...and what then?”

“Please Madam, I am to go up to your bedroom, strip completely, kneel on the left side of your bed on all fours with my knees wide apart, head touching the duvet and back arched until your or Mr Henderson arrives to give me the beating.”

“...and during the beating?”

“I must remain in position... otherwise penalty strokes will be awarded Madam.”

Mr Henderson interjected: “Well Jennifer, knowing all this you have seen to deliberately flout our rules and instructions...why is that?”

“Ppplease Sir, I have been beaten already today...my bottom is too sore to take any more. Please may I have them on another night instead... Sir?”

The couple looked at each other in shock and both commented how insolent she was in deliberately avoiding punishment then trying to wriggle out of it even more. She was told that the state of her buttocks was of no concern and if she really wanted to avoid repeat punishments she should behave better. She was told to leave the room whilst they discussed her fate which she did, standing, trembling with fear, in the cold hallway. Eventually she was called back in to stand in front of them.

“Having given the matter due consideration, we have decided that your maintenance beatings will be increased from 8 to 16 strokes for the rest of the month. It is your bad fortune that this is a month with five Wednesdays. Needless to say, double penalty points will be awarded for the month as well should you irritate us on any occasion. It is rather late, but this is a Wednesday and you will now receive your beating. Go and fetch your strap.”

With a curtsy to them both, Jennifer hurried up to her room, took the wretched implement off its hook and on returning to the room presented it to Mrs Henderson with yet another curtsy of submission. She was told to follow the normal instructions, go to their bedroom and to grip the strap in her teeth when in position. It took but seconds for her to strip and mount the bed. She felt the tightness of her flesh and renewed the persistent pain as she bent into the required position. By twisting her head she could see herself in the mirror and just how blatantly she was displayed along with the weals and bruises that the Hendersons had yet to see. For one brief moment she allowed herself to believe that they would take pity on her when they saw how tender she was and not carry out the punishment, or at least, reduce it to something with which she could cope. She soon came back to reality and realised that the marks were more likely to inflame their sadism rather than reduce it. There was no clock so she could not tell how long she was waiting. She knew that one of their tricks was to keep her in suspense far longer than necessary but not daring to move in case they suddenly burst in, as they had on more than one occasion hoping to find her out of position and therefore liable for penalty strokes.

She found that biting on the strap to retain it in her mouth soon had her tongue tasting the oil that had been lavishly anointed by herself. It was making her salivate for some reason but she dare not remove it even for just one second in case they came in.

After fifteen minutes of holding the humiliating and difficult position and dribbling into the strap the door opened and she heard them walk into the room, closing the door behind them. She knew that she was theirs to do with as they wished.

Mrs Henderson was the first to speak: “My... my... girl they really give a good thrashing at the local don’t they! You must be quite sore.” She then slowly dragged her sharp finger nails up and down her cheeks digging into the weals so that Jennifer flinched.

“Keep still girl, you are in enough trouble without making things worse for yourself! Do you really want some penalties?” she then gave half a dozen sharp slaps to both buttocks knowing that the condition of her target would greatly increase the pain level. All that Jennifer could do was to bite even harder on the oily and now wet strap.

“I think that we will start with four strokes from me and then four from my husband. Normally that would be the end, but of course you are on an enhanced maintenance beating for tonight and the next four weeks. Just in case you are expecting any sympathy let me remind you that any insolent exclamations or undue movement will most certainly result in penalty strokes as normal.”

Jennifer knew from previous beatings that this was no idle threat and that her owners would be looking forward to finding some small fault that would justify even more pain. Mrs Henderson reached round and gripped the handle of the strap telling her to release her dental grip which she did. Mrs Henderson grunted in disgust as she showed her husband the teeth marks and dribble on the strap. She then stood with feet wide, raised the strap back over her shoulder and brought it down over the centre of the waiting buttocks with a dull “thwuck”.

It hurt Jennifer even more than she expected but she remained in position and waited. The next three followed quickly, all to the same area so that a broad band of flesh felt on fire. She started sobbing knowing that nothing would stop the assault. Mr Henderson laid his four on with even greater force, as he always managed to do. His landed lower down and started to encroach on the tops of her thighs.

Her buttocks felt as if a red hot iron had been applied to them. She knew that she had moved during the strokes, how else could she absorb the pain? Whether that would be deemed sufficient to need penalties she would no doubt be told. Just then he ran his hand between her legs cupping her hirsute vulva and slowly introducing a wriggling finger into her intimate folds. By now she should be used to the Henderson’s employment of humiliation as well as pain to break her down, but she would never voluntarily agree to these assaults, she would only learn to accept them to avoid more of the same.

She well remembered her first few days with them. A couple of the young boys from the next door house popped in on some errand for their mother. They were not yet eighteen, well under half her age, but fired up on emerging hormones and could not help looking at her large breasts. Rather than telling them to behave Mrs Henderson just grinned at them and said how good it was that they were taking an interest in the opposite sex. She then asked them if they had ever seen a pair of breasts in real life?

Mumbling and blushing they both admitted that they had not. Unbelievably Mrs Henderson said that perhaps the time had come to correct that and turning to Jennifer gave a simple command to strip to the waist. Jennifer, understandably shocked, covered her breasts protectively with her hands and shook her head.

Mrs Henderson was furious. Telling the boys to wait, she ordered Jennifer down to the cellar and followed her leaving all the doors open. This room was in the process of being developed as a place in which punishments could be inflicted. Taking a thin cane down from the wall rack she ordered Jennifer to bend over with legs apart and grasp her ankles. She hesitated, but soon complied when Mrs Henderson offered to call the boys down to watch. She then felt her schoolgirl skirt raised and her knickers being snatched down to her knees. Her new owner stood to her side, raised the cane high and quickly laid on five stinging cuts across the plumpest part of her nates.

The sound of both the cane and Jennifer’s yelps carried upstairs to the waiting pair who looked at each other with broad grins. They had, of course heard stories about the way these prisoner servants were treated but hearing it for themselves was an unexpected treat.

It was just a couple of minutes before the now dressed girl came back up the stairs and stood in front of them again. Mrs Henderson apologised for the delay and explained that this was a new servant who had much to learn. She then turned to Jennifer and repeated the order to strip.

Sobbing a little and blushing bright red, she obeyed, just lingering for a brief second and looking at her owner in the hope that she might change her mind before reluctantly slipping off her shirt and large white brassiere. She took up the hands on head, elbows forced back and legs apart position without being told. She tried to ignore the throbbing pain from under her skirt as the boys looked over every part of her breasts.

“Not the best example of how breasts should look boys as Jennifer is rather old and overweight... so hers tend to droop more than they should. However, they are a good size and the nipples big and rubbery.” She then ordered her to jump up and down so that they bounced and slapped against her chest wall. The movement causing some amusement with her small audience.

“I must have a word with your mother, it might be a good idea for you two to come round and get some practical experience of what a fully developed female looks like...you know...get to examine her...all over...really thoroughly. Would you be interested?”

Their enthusiasm for the suggestion was overwhelming.

“Right then, I will arrange it sometime, in the meantime I will allow you both fifteen seconds each to give them both a real feel... and don’t forget the nipples.”

It felt longer to Jennifer. Standing there, frightened to move or object, she had to brace with her elbows hard back as the two young thugs cruelly squeezed and pulled with one hand on each breast. When they had finished, both ached and carried red marks.

Just a few days prior to the visit to the local Mr Henderson had complained about Jennifer’s weight and said that the time had come to do something about it: Mrs Henderson had agreed and remembered back to the incident with the neighbours boys. She had completely forgotten to discuss things with their mother but had noticed how fit they were and had heard from a friend that they regularly exercised in a large gym that had been built for them in a building in their garden. She wondered if perhaps their mother would allow them to take on Jennifer for some really hard physical training so that she would burn off some calories. In return they could use her for some more exploring to increase their knowledge of the female anatomy. With both her owners in agreement Jennifer was informed and still awaited the results of the discussion that she knew had taken place with the boy’s mother. She could not believe that even the Hendersons would hand her over like a toy to these two youths. The thought of being trained by them with physical exercises until exhaustion was bad enough, but the thought of them having her strip and be intimately groped and exposed for their education, was infinitely worse.

The sound of Mrs Henderson slapping her hand with the now warm strap brought her back to the present day.

“Well girl, eight strokes to go. We could lay them all over your backside but that seems to be a little too tender, so we will be incredibly kind and lay them on another part of the body. You will therefore take them on your inner thighs which seem to be untouched. Lay on your left side facing away from me and lift your right leg up high to fully expose the left thigh.”

With some difficulty Jennifer did as she was ordered. The soft white flesh of her plump thigh lay fully exposed. Mrs Henderson raised the strap and brought it hard down across the leg... high up near her exposed crotch. She had chosen the site well knowing just how sensitive the area is to any punishment. Jennifer’s instinctive reaction was to lower her right leg to protect it, but she managed to keep her limbs well spread. The next three moved down the thigh three inches at a time towards the knees until the whole area was red and burning.

On the command “Change” from Mr Henderson she turned on her right side and extended her left leg skywards feeling the abused flesh tighten. She could now see the careful way he caressed the strap in his hands before standing back a little and bringing it down just above the knee. Knowing where the most sensitive spot was he was keeping the best ‘til last. The three remainders fell quickly leaving both inner thighs blazing with pain as she was ordered to her feet and told to wait outside the bedroom door whilst they discussed whether any penalties were needed.

This was psychology at its worst. She stood on the cold landing frantically rubbing her legs to ease the pain, dreading the call to return, but knowing that she would have to obey and allow whatever the pair had decided, to take place. Eventually her name was called and trembling with fear she marched in, curtsied to them both and stood to await their verdict.

They sat side by side on the bed. Mrs Henderson smiled cynically. “Your acceptance of our authority tonight has been barely acceptable, but we have decided to let you off any more strokes. We may need your services later so I want you to kneel at the foot of the bed and await your next order Jennifer.”

It could have been a lot worse. Usually kneeling at the foot of the bed required her to play some part in the sex that usually followed her beatings. With luck it would be just tidying up afterwards when they were asleep. Without luck she would be expected to join them in the bed and assist in some way as she tried to forget the pain they had caused her.

Meanwhile, for Wendell, his visit to the local continued in its inexorable way: He had to wait a further ten minutes before a volunteer wardress in her thirties, tall with lanky short blonde hair and an angular face walked into the waiting room and called out his number. He obediently followed her as she almost marched through the building well aware that a word from her would increase his sentence should he show any reluctance or disrespect. He soon found himself in a punishment cell and was mortified to find the two young girls who had watched and assisted with his milking present were there to witness his punishment. As he stood to attention awaiting the next order he found their immature grins of anticipation to be more than distasteful.

In no time he was totally naked and lying in position with his thighs spread and his head well down awaiting the tightening of the Velcro straps. His painfully sore penis with its retracted foreskin rested against the cold steel of the urine trough which he felt almost soothing, but he knew from the formal thrashings he had received when in the Correctional Centre that this would be a short lived relief.

The two girls were allowed to assist in fastening the restraints which they did using all their strength to bind him securely to the horse. The wardress retrieved the gag from the disinfectant jar and pushed it into his mouth fastening the straps behind his head. He had no idea what the liquid was that it had been steeped in, but it tasted foul and smelt even worse.

Rather than hurry the proceedings the wardress took the time to show the girls the various canes, straps and paddles that hung on the racks and described how they were used on the male and female victims that were brought into this place of discipline. They seemed to take great delight in flexing and swishing both the rattan and plastic canes whilst speculating on how painful they were to receive. They even tried hitting their free hands with a few implements and emitted frequent exclamations that indicated they were experiencing the effects for themselves.

“Now boy” the wardress said to Wendell ”This is the time to relieve your bladder without incurring and penalty strokes. I strongly advise you to do that.” Just then, the elder of the girls reached between his thighs and grasped his dangling tender organ between her thumb and fingers and started to shake it hard which as well as being painful also reminded him that his bladder was indeed full and that he would have to relieve himself in front of them no matter how disgusted and humiliated it made him feel. Even the act of passing water proved to be painful, especially with the girl gripping the shaft and waiting to direct the flow,  but at least it wouldn’t count against him he acknowledged to himself as he relaxed control and the urine flowed freely into the stainless steel trough.

The action was greeted by sounds of disgust from the two witnesses who then asked if they could swab the area to be punished. It was the younger girl’s turn to torment him. She took the forceps in her hand and swished the swab around the bowl for some time before bringing it still running to his buttocks. It was ice cold and smelt more like a commercial product than one for sensitive human skin. She allowed it to run down his buttocks and particularly into his anal cleft where it stung his anal region savagely. Having wiped it generously over both buttocks and thighs she drew it down through the anal cleft and then wiped it around the exposed tip of his penis rubbing it against the steel of the trough. The skin in that area was already raw, and as she hoped, the liquid added greatly to his suffering.

Eventually the volunteer wardress picked up her clip board and read aloud to him: “Your owner has complained about your frequent requests to be milked, a procedure that she finds revolting. To discourage this in the future she has asked that we milk you here, which I note has already been done, and then inflict a paddling and dose of the cane. I see that we have approved thirty swats of the small paddle to be followed by sixteen of the medium cane. The lady scheduled to punish you is rather busy and has therefore authorised me to lay on the paddle, she will then come here to lay on the cane.”

Wendell lay there fuming at the injustice. He had mentioned it just the once and to have him beaten for that one time was a total injustice...not that he was even in a position to comment, let alone complain.

She went on: “I have been given permission to allow these girls to practice with the paddle. I will lay five on each cheek and then they will do the same. Needless to say, any whacks that I consider to be too light...will be repeated.”

The wardress selected a heavyrubber paddle from the rack. It had a wooden grip with the oval shaped business end somewhat larger than a hand. It was over a quarter inch thick and not very pliable as she demonstrated by flexing it in front of him. She could just as easily have selected one of the smaller lighter paddles so her choice demonstrated that Wendell should not to expect the slightest consideration, let alone mercy from the woman.

Playfully slapping it across the palm of her left hand she told the girls that she had chosen that particular paddle because she needed to “tenderise” the whole of the buttock area so that the relatively minor caning would have the most effect. Much as she would prefer to land the paddle on the same spot every time, even to giving the whole thirty strokes to the same spot on the same buttock, she would have to spread them around or risk displeasing the wardress who would eventually arrive to lay on the cane. She said that she would give him her ten and then the girls could try their hands.

His buttocks were only slightly bruised from earlier beatings by his owner and apart from the vertical indentations from the seating, they had an almost clean area to work on. This did not last long.

The wardress laid on five to each side, raising the paddle way over her shoulder and bringing it down to a slightly different target each time with a loud “Thwack”. One girl stood behind to observe the marking process and the other squatted in front of his face, not caring that this would allow him to see her panty crotch as she was so absorbed in watching his facial reactions to each impact.

The younger girl went first. She was of a slight build but packed a surprising wallop and she put her whole body behind each stroke of the paddle on the already reddened target. It took less than a minute to complete her allocation and hand the now warmed implement to her friend.

She stood behind the boy, stroking the palm of her left hand with the rubber as she surveyed the buttocks deciding where she needed to hit.

“There doesn’t seem to be much colour in his thighs, so will it be ok if I warm them up a little?” she asked with a grin.

“Warming” was hardly the word.  She gave five really hard whacks to the upper part of each thigh overlapping the lower part of each buttock cheek. When she finished, her selected area was a much darker hue than the rest as the bruises started to appear.

His buttock area still felt as if on fire when he heard the phone being lifted and a brief conversation imparting the knowledge that he was ready for the cane. There was a long wait during which the wardress explained the finer points of how severely the staff laid on the cane in the local. She said that the unofficial motto was that if you laid it on hard enough it would be a longer time before a repeat performance would be necessary. In practice however, since the decision as to whether another offence had been committed rested entirely with the owner, this didn’t always hold true. What was true that the fear and apprehension displayed by the repeat offender was certainly increased when he or she had been really effectively thrashed on the previous visit.

Just then to Wendell’s horror, the door opened and in walked Mrs Rathbone the Chief Wardress. Of all the rotten luck he thought to himself. Any other wardress would be strict, but not to the extent that he had heard Mrs Rathbone was. When he saw her selecting a prodder from the rack he knew what was coming and struggled against his over tight straps to move. It was futile and he felt the cold touch of the probe lifting up his scrotum and nestling between his testicles.

“Just a routine check to make sure that you ladies have secured him properly” she said quietly.

Then pressed the discharge button.

To the captive male it felt as if he had been kicked in the balls. He strained against his straps and shouted...or at least tried to shout into his foul tasting gag.

It took several seconds before he could relax and open his eyes. Mrs Rathbone stood in front of him towering over his head.

“It is the custom in the actual Correctional Centres that formal thrashings are carried out with the Officer stripped to the waist. This emphasises the feminine aspect of the punishment so the victim learns respect for the female in authority.” It also” she added with a cold smile to the new girls, “reduces the ladies body temperature a little as a really good thrashing can be hard work and that of course induces sweating.”

Without any embarrassment she then removed her tie and undid her shirt slipping it off her back to reveal a white heavy sports type bra with her breasts surging over the cups. This was unclipped from the rear with some difficulty and leaning forward she pulled the stiff wired cups free of her breasts and hung it with the shirt and tie on a convenient hook.

She was certainly a magnificent site that even Wendell found impressive. The light brown breasts stood out well, even without support, and were capped with large almost black areoles and thick black nipples almost half an inch long. She leant forward until they were almost touching her victim and shook them slightly.

“Take a good look at them Boy! This is the one time you are allowed to without it resulting in even more pain!” She then stood and addressed the girls:

“This will be a formal flogging and it is designed to hurt. If you have any thoughts that you won’t like what you are about to see, I would advise you leave now.” They remained motionless and so she closed and locked the door, signalling the end of all hope for the male and walked over to the cane rack. She knew what she was looking for and soon found it.  A length of knotted but springy bamboo with a hand grip in rubber. It was forty inches long and about 3/8th of an inch thick not counting the knots. Most of the staff would have chosen a thinner and more flexible cane, but as Chief Wardress, Mrs Rathbone knew that her inflictions had to be that little bit special to impress the staff and the prisoners with her authority. This might impress the staff, but would be sheer hell for the victim.

She squatted down to be level with Wendell’s head and held the cane under his nose. “You will be feeling this in groups of four strokes, I will allow a couple of minutes for the pain to subside between each group. My advice is to remember to breathe and avoid clenching your buttocks as that will only make it feel worse.”

She then stood, and with a glance at the wall clock, raised the cane over her right shoulder and brought it whirring down to cut across the buttocks just below the top of the anal cleft. The next three fell in rapid succession creating a two inch broad band from the top of the cleft. As the pain reached Wendell’s brain, futile sounds of extreme anguish could be heard through his gag. Mrs Rathbone pointed out the different weals that her “special” cane created. Slightly thicker than normal canes and with the characteristic lumps or extra swellings from the knots.

She waited for exactly two minutes on the wall clock ...then brought the next four strokes slashing down, just below the first ones.

“You girls can now appreciate why I checked on his restraints. Believe me, if he wasn’t secured he would probably be running round the room clutch his backside and begging for leniency. Feel free to run your finger tips...and nails if you wish over the ridges.”

This they did, commenting on how hot the weals felt, particularly the added swellings. Needless to say their nails were scraped along the ridges whilst watching to see if this caused the male any extra pain. It did, but he was so totally maxed out by the cane strokes themselve there did not appear to be any extra moans or struggles.

The next four strokes followed and joined up with the first two searing bands of pain across his buttocks. A period of just two minutes then elapsed with the room in total silence apart from Wendell’s muffled moans and the creaking of the straps and frame that supported him.

Before laying on the final four Mrs Rathbone carefully examined the area available. Rather than lay another band to join the others she prodded the tip of the cane against the lowest part of the buttocks and upper thighs that were unmarked.

“It would be a pity to let this soft spot escape the rod” she mused, “but we had better first re-position the thighs so that I don’t catch the scrotum by mistake.”

By winding a handle low down on the left of the frame the supports on which his lower legs were strapped were brought closer until they were almost touching. This had the desired effect of shielding his testes but raised his buttocks tightening the skin around the lower area. Sensing what was to come, the male was now shivering with fear and his entire body covered in a cold damp sweat.

There were no more words. The rattan cane was raised high over Mrs Rathbone’s sturdy shoulder and brought whirring down across the vulnerable flesh. Three more strokes quickly followed to cover a band of just two inches or so of the most sensitive part of his legs and backside.

The cane was then immediately placed back on the rack and the Chief Wardress about to depart when the duty wardress raised a query. Needless to say, not one of the females was even looking at the shivering moaning male as their interest had ceased with the final stroke.

“With respect Ma’am” the young wardress said “I am trying to complete my punishment assignments so that I can become fully authorised to punish these wretches myself. I have noted that Wendell’s owner has kindly ticked the box that would allow us to use him for staff training and wondered if you would allow me to lay on one of the punishments that I need to complete. You could, perhaps, sign me off if I administered it to your satisfaction.”

Mrs Rathbone, struggling to replace her support brassiere picked up the clip board and examined it and turned to the two young witnesses:

“Mmmm, you see girls, we have recently included a box for the owners to tick should they be happy for us to use their prisoners for a little extra staff training. There have been comments that owners who ticked it thought that they were simply agreeing to the actual punishment being used for training rather than anything extra but that is hardly our concern. In Wendell’s case the box is ticked and we can use him as we wish, should we chose to do so.”

She then asked the wardress what she had in mind. It seemed that she had yet to lay on a hand punishment and following a brief glance at the wealed and reddened buttocks in front of them, laughingly agreed as at least that part of him was still unmarked.

Wendell could not believe that his agony was not yet over. He had no idea what a hand punishment entailed, perhaps it was being slapped by the wardresses hand, maybe his face, whatever the area it would be better than taking any more pain to his rear.

He soon found himself unstrapped, ungagged and somewhat unsteadily, at attention taking great care not to follow his natural instinct and trying to rub away some of the pain. He was still damp with sweat and rather paler in complexion than normal, but all of these signs were perfectly normal to the two staff to the extent that no comment was necessary. Needless to say, the two female visitors had flushed faces and a shining eyes that seemed to indicate their continuing excitement at his vulnerability and pain.

Mrs Rathbone, now fully dressed briefed the wardress and explained to the visitors:

“The hand punishment, is really a relic of the old style school punishments where a strict mistress would keep her charges in line with a cane. What I want to see is a more penal version of that punishment. I expect to see five firm strokes of a suitable cane laid on across the fingers and palms of this boy. He will take the strokes without any attempt to avoid them. This is in itself, a good test of his acceptance of the wardresses authority as he will see everything in front of him and be obliged demonstrate his acceptance of her authority by not moving his hand in the least, even though he knows it will hurt like hell...or should do if she lays them on to pass my level of satisfaction. Now...which cane will you select? It will of course be much lighter than the one I have just used but not as light as say one of the ones that we will be using when we are approved for female breast punishments. Anyhow, the assessment starts right now so off you go!”

With a confident smile the young wardress went over to the rack of the lighter canes, took down several and practised swishing them several times before selecting a very flexible plastic rod about two and a half feet in length and a quarter of an inch in diameter.

She then addressed Wendell:

“Right boy, you will now experience a hand caning from me, not because you have committed any crime but simply because I need to demonstrate one to the Chief Wardress here. I intend that it will hurt, but should you try to avoid any stroke you will still receive that stroke and a penalty one in addition. Throughout the punishment you are to watch the tip of the cane wherever it is and your eyes are to remain open. You may brace yourself when you see me bringing it down but nothing else. There will be no rubbing hands during or after the last stroke has been given. I will accept a little movement after each stroke, but you will have your hand back in to correct position within ten seconds or that stroke will be repeated. Do you have any questions?”

A forlorn Wendell assured her that he had not.

“Stand with your feet apart, left hand behind your back, right hand in front parallel to the floor.” She then used the tip of the cane to lift his hand to the required level. “Fingers together and fully outstretched...”

She stood to his right about four feet from his hand to ensure that the tip would hit the target, raised the cane back over her right shoulder and brought it whistling down across the fingers just below the first joint on the index finger.

Wendell was appalled how much it hurt. The pain seemed instantaneous and he had just got his hand back to the required level when the second stroke hit just where the fingers join the palm. He did not need to be told that the wardress was out to impress.

Strokes three to five landed across the plump palm area, the last taking in the thumb root.

His whole hand was now an excruciating pad of pain as he followed instructions and placed it behind his back and offered the left one for punishment. The two visitors stood just feet away to his front. Both were still flushed with excitement and watching every whistling descent of the cane.

Perhaps it was because he was right handed and therefore the skin on that hand a little more hardened, or perhaps it was because the wardress was laying on even harder that the left fingers, but the left palm felt even more painful as the strokes fell. By the time the last one had landed the tears were running down his face much to the visitors amusement.

But at last it was over... or so he thought.

The unsmiling young wardress replaced the cane and came back to his part of the room clutching an old fashioned wooden school ruler. Not one of the modern plastic jobs, this had been kept as some sort of memento and Wendell wondered what for. He was soon to find out.

“Now Ma’am, “ the wardress went on “as you well know the school mistress of old also had an alternative to the cane. Cheeky young males could also expect to have their knuckles rapped and I hope that you don’t mind, but I found this ruler in a junk shop the other day and thought that I would include that discipline with my hand punishment routine. It wasn’t a punishment that any of them looked forward to but I sure that its use was beneficial to improving overall school behaviour.”

Mrs Rathbone was impressed. She inclined her head to indicate her acceptance of the wardresses views, her purchase of the implement and its intended use on the boy.

The wardress again now stood to his right. Ordered him to extend his hand palm down, adjusted the height by tapping it with the heavy wooden ruler and then brought it down in a sharp flick to crack flat across his knuckles.

It took a few seconds for the pain to hit his brain, during which time he had noticed the ink stains and scribbled name of its one time owner on the ruler. He thought that no pain could exceed that of the cane across his fingers...but he was wrong. It was a duller more sickening pain but to a new height of intensity. Without thinking he snatched his hand away and rubbed the knuckles violently with his other hand.

“Well boy,” his tormentor remarked “that disobedience was very silly. I appreciate that this must hurt and I was going to go easy on you, but now you will have to take...without movement...that stroke repeated to your right knuckles and then two to your left hand knuckles.”

It took only a couple of minutes to hit him with the wretched ruler the three times she had promised. Each time the load crack signalled the numbing pain that he had to fight against to remain in position. He certainly felt for the previous generations of males who were obliged to stand and take such knuckle aching cracks from a stiff and starchy school mistress, probably in front of several other boys and girls who must have flinched each time they heard the noise in case they might be next.

Naturally, neither Mrs Ratcliffe nor the girls had any such worries and were free to appreciate the effect it had had on their victim. He had been looking round at all of them with concern, but now he had the look of a man terrified about what may come next. His visit to the centre was certainly having the results that his owner had hoped for as he was already planning to avoid another visit in any way he could.

He had no need to worry about any further pain or indignities that day. Mrs Rathbone departed having made approving comments as to the abilities of the wardress and the latter was soon escorting him back to the waiting room and the discomfort seats.

He had to wait for around thirty minutes, during which he found himself fidgeting to ease the discomfort from the seat and being given disapproving glances by the lady officer in charge. He was then given the envelope containing his report card and told to dress and leave, which he did with some difficulty as his hands were still throbbing and all too sensitive to him touching anything. He departed for his owner’s house as rapidly as he could.

And now here he was, days later, in front of another group of ladies who were fascinated to hear of his punishments in the local. Naturally they insisted on closely examining his hands and found the bruising they expected, particularly to the backs. Amanda explained that the night he returned was when he was scheduled to carry out her intimate laundry and she laughed saying how he found the very hot water that she requires her panties and things to be washed in to be even more uncomfortable than usual. Naturally, her sympathy extended to the next day when she had him pruning a thick hedge with a small pair of secateurs that he seemed to find difficult, especially as he wasn’t allowed to wear protective gloves. She had to hand it to the staff at the local, they certainly changed attitudes as until today, Wendell had been as good as gold. He would have to be brought down a peg or two in front of the ladies, but first Lang had to be punished for her carelessness earlier.

Once more she found herself at the present in front of the comfortably seated guests. Sophie explained how she tried to prevent Lang believing that she was in some way special by dressing her in cast off’s from the charity shops. Her panties were the exception as she was made to wear Sophie’s from the previous day. I think we will start by having her strip to her underwear so that you can see what I mean.

This she did, and Lang was soon standing in front of them, back at the present, dressed only in her ill fitting dingy bra and small white panties. To be forced to display herself in front of people who knew her was almost unbearable, yet it had to be endured as she knew only too well. Having heard the story about the “local” she had no enthusiasm to do anything that would enable Miss Sophie to book her in to their safe keeping.

Miss Sophie came straight to the point. Lang had been clumsy and any form of clumsiness by a servant had to be punished. She would normally have waited for her husband to return but decided that it would be better if she allowed the guests to decide how she should be disciplined.

But how would that be?

To be continued.

.