Chapter 43.
Stewart awoke at around 6am. He carried out his morning ablutions and dressed
once more in his prison clothes of denim shirt and shorts. The clothes that he
had been allowed to wear as a free man last night lay neatly folded and awaiting
their collection by Mrs Parsons. He tried to get his mind around his renewed
status as a prisoner and hoped that he could generate a sufficiently submissive
attitude for when he met Miss Emma. He also wished that he had been a little
more lenient with the Germans as his severity would no doubt be thrown back in
his face this morning. Perhaps his greatest regret was in using the crop. It
looked a real bitch of an implement when he held it in his hands and he just
hoped that Miss Emma would have other plans for him that didn't include its use.
He hurried out to the stable block and arrived there at a few minutes to 7am. It
was a sunny but crisp morning, the sort of morning that everyone would describe
as "pleasant", but Stewart, with his stomach already in knots, felt otherwise.
The stable girls were already organised and the first set of riders had left
leaving three of them to their duties around the yard. One of them, a plump
female in her early thirties with long unkempt fair hair walked over to him. She
was dressed in a thin green T-shirt, faded jeans and green wellington boots.
" I presume that you are Stewart," she said, and without waiting for a response
continued, " My name is Miss Wendy and I am the head girl here. Miss Emma is out
riding and she has told me to find you work until she returns, she has also told
me not to accept any lip from you so don't even try it!"
She strode off towards one of the outbuildings and Stewart followed dutifully in
her steps. They entered the changing rooms for the lady riders. Open lockers and
collections of female clothes lay on the benches and hung from hooks on the
wall. They continued into the fully tiled washrooms. There were two toilet
stalls, two showers screened by plastic curtains and a separate washbasin. A
bucket of cleaning materials lay on the floor.
"I don't know what Miss Emma has planned for you when she returns, Stewart, but
she was certainly in a foul mood with the rest of us before she left. You had
better start cleaning these toilets first and then get on with the showers. They
haven't been touched for weeks and equestrian ladies tend to be the untidy of
females. If any lady comes in to use them, stand against that wall with your
nose pressed to the tiles until you hear them leave". She pointed to a spot next
to the washbasin. "One more thing, I don't want you working up a sweat in here,
so strip off your shirt and shorts, you can then work in just your pants and
trainers."
For a brief second Stewart considered arguing with this woman and even
questioning her authority over him. Fortunately, his sense of self-preservation
prevailed and he simply murmured a deferential agreement as he removed the two
items and hung them on a convenient hook. Having watched as he filled the bucket
with hot soapy water Miss Wendy left, and he entered the first stall to start
cleaning. He was soon down on his knees leaning over the pan and seat to clean
the rear of the porcelain with a disinfectant soapy cloth. She was certainly
correct about the time since they were last cleaned and not only the pan but the
whole stall was dirty, smelly and littered with scraps of tissue. He assiduously
washed the seat and lid then dried the whole area with another cloth.
Unfortunately the inside required a good scrub and he was obliged to spend some
time with the brush and cleaning powder before a final flush achieved the
desired cleanliness. He had carefully washed the floor, retreating as he did so
when he heard the door open behind him. He immediately stood, turned and stood
with his nose against the wall catching but a brief glimpse of a heavily built
lady dressed in ordinary clothes in the doorway.
He heard her walk up behind him and a hand was placed on his covered buttocks.
"So, you must be the toilet cleaner that I have heard about." She whispered in a
cultured mature voice. "I have never had a male servant in a ladies lavatory
before...I do trust that you are not too embarrassed and will assist me should I
need it? Turn around and face me."
Stewart did so and found himself being addressed by a not unattractive
dark-haired lady dressed in a tweed country jacket and matching skirt. She was
indeed well built and well into her forties but exuding the attitude of power
that always comes with money. He stifled a gasp when he felt her right hand
gently cup his genitals.
"I wish to use the toilet, the one that you have so carefully cleaned but I have
no wish to get my underclothes wet on the floor. Wash your hands, go into the
cubicle, lay on the floor face up, with your head a few inches from the pan."
Stewart did as she ordered and the lady then walked into the narrow area,
straddled his shoulders, turned with difficulty and stood, feet either side of
his head, over him. As she slowly raised the tweed skirt he could see her
stocking tops with their suspender clips and then her panties. She gave a short
order and in response he reached up and gently pulled the large panties down
over her knees until they rested on his face. He sensed rather than saw her sit
down and soon heard the sounds of relief as she emptied her bladder. There was
then the sound of the toilet roll been spun to obtain paper and then she stood,
telling him to replace her panties. This he did turning and kneeling, the better
to raise them fully and pull down the skirt.
"Clean up after me." She said, and pushed past him on her way to the outside.
He flushed the toilet and set to work to clean the other. Continuing
uninterrupted, he thoroughly cleaned both showers and started on the sink when
Miss Wendy came back in. She inspected his work as he scrubbed and polished.
"Not bad Stewart. We are always looking for someone to look after the "ladies"
when we have our annual gymkhana event. It's one of those special trucks with
steps leading up to a dozen small cubicles. It is always better to have a full
time attendant to be there to clean each toilet after use and to go underneath
and pump out when necessary, especially on a hot day. I will certainly keep you
in mind. Now, finish off in here, wash your hands and then make coffee for my
two yard-girls and myself.
It was almost ten minutes before Stewart finished the toilets, dressed and
located the small kitchen. He soon prepared three coffees and placing them on a
tray with a small bowl of sugar took them into a stable where he could hear the
chatter of female voices. Sitting around on hay bales were Miss Wendy and two
much younger girls in their late teens. Both were dressed in the same scruffy
working clothes as Miss Wendy. The shorter and certainly plumper of the two
seized one of the mugs, and without a word of thanks swallowed a large mouthful.
A look of disgust on her face alerted Stewart to a coming problem but he was
still caught by surprise. She suddenly spat the contents of her mouth fully in
his face. The hot drink ran down over his shirt making him blink to clear his
eyes.
"Yuck!" the girl exclaimed. The lout has forgotten to put any sugar in"
There was of course no point in arguing. Stewart muttered a few words of apology
that only seemed to irritate the girl even more. The other girl grabbed a mug
and deliberately took a mouthful and then stood with her face almost touching
his chest. She drew her head back and as it came forward she spat the contents
of her mouth fully in his face. Not content with that assault she again drew her
head back and then delivered the remainder mixed in with her saliva.
There followed a few seconds silence as the spit and coffee ran down his face
and over his shirt and shorts. There was nothing to be said, the whole action
had been carried out with such confidence that it was certainly pre-ordained by
Miss Emma. The only question was what would follow next.
It turned out to be Miss Wendy furiously ordering him to strip off the shirt and
shorts and to stand there in just his skimpy underpants and trainers. The two
young girls were then told to take him outside and wash him down. The showers,
it would seem, were only on limits to Stewart in his role as cleaner, when it
came to him being washed down it was the yard hosepipe, the same one that he had
used the previous night on the German girl's punishment knickers that they used.
He was ordered to stand over the drain, legs wide and hands high as the yard
girls turned on the tap and the icy cold jet of water hit him hard, taking his
breath away and stinging the skin on his chest. The girl holding the nozzle
soon had it adjusted to give a narrow stinging jet. She then circled him
concentrating the jet on firstly his face, then his chest and finally his
crotch. Fortunately, it was hardly one of those power washers, but even so, the
icy jet thudded into his genitals, which, without much protection from his pants
found themselves flicking from side to side. Twice the jet caught the testicle
itself and Stewart's involuntary doubling up only resulted in the other girl
shouting at him to stand upright. Finally she circled behind him and having
hosed his body down, used the jet to force the pants up between his buttocks.
Eventually the water was turned off and he was left soaked and shaking from the
cold. Miss Wendy re-appeared and ignoring his obvious discomfort ordered him to
go out to the gate to the yard and wait for Miss Emma. She told him that she
should be back in a few minutes and that he was to make sure that he was waiting
at attention, to open the gate for her. Several female riders came through the
gate sniggering at the shivering bedraggled male as he opened and closed the
heavy wooden contraption. It was a good twenty, freezing minutes before a lone
rider appeared. It was Miss Emma, dressed in her full riding gear.
The very height of the horse added to impression of absolute superiority, but
even if she had been walking the way she was dressed would have been sufficient
to frighten Stewart. She wore long highly polished black boots into which fitted
the legs of a pair of perfectly tailored jodhpurs. A tweed jacket covered most
of a crisp white shirt that was complimented by a black tie. A riding hat sat
perfectly upon the young head and in the gloved right hand was a thin riding
crop that Stewart immediately recognised. This vision of authority looked down
as he opened the gate and spoke:
"You can consider yourself lucky that Mrs Parsons told me about your behaviour
and not my mother, otherwise you would have been sent back to the Centre with an
adverse report. I won't be making it easy for you, but at least it won't go any
further. Take what's coming, button your lips and it will be over and forgotten
about in a few hours...understood?"
Stewart blurted out his agreement and stood to the side as she brusquely rode
through the gate. He then saw her give a brief order to the two girls who walked
over to collect him. They led him into one of the straw covered horse stalls
and, collecting some leather harness straps from the wall rack, faced him
inwards and tied one wrist to each side of the stall. Without a word of
explanation they then each fixed a brush with a retaining strap to their right
hands and started to groom him, one working on his front and the other his rear.
From the first contact with the bristles he realised that the brush designed for
the hide of a horse would be harsh in the extreme. The two stable-girls worked
with a will and, starting on his shoulders worked down their respective sides to
his waist drawing the brushes firmly across his skin over and over again until
each area was reddened. Fortunately they stopped at the waist and recommenced
with his legs having hobbled one ankle clear of the ground and to the side with
a length of leather tied to the side of the stall. His soft inner thighs seemed
the most sensitive to their efforts with one brush in particular, leaving
several scratches. They were both working on the lower legs and calves when Miss
Wendy walked in and looked over the side of the stall at the prisoner.
"Have you brushed his groin and flank area yet?" she enquired.
Embarrassed, the two girls admitted that they had not. Wendy reminded them that
Miss Emma had called for a thorough grooming and ordered them to untie his
ankle, pull down his wet thin pants and then re-hobble him. Blushing, the
plumper girl who was working on his front grasped the garment, pulled it to the
floor and then, as he stepped out of them, hung them on a convenient nail.
His foreskin had remained retracted even though the cold had shrivelled his
organ considerably. The girl slipped off the brush and used it to lift the
wrinkled organ until it was horizontal. The sharp bristles could be felt on the
underside of the exposed head.
"Wendy, what happens if this male behaves like one of the stallions and this
thing gets all big as we clean it?" she enquired.
" That is almost certainly more than he dare do, but if it starts to swell I'm
sure that a stiff brushing will change its mind".
Emboldened the girl at the rear started to vigorously brush down his buttocks.
Stewart soon found that standing still to prevent his sore penis being subjected
to even more traumas from the bristles. When however, the brush was forced down
the anal cleft scouring the sensitive skin on the inner cheeks and furrow he
could not help but jerk his thighs. This only resulted in the stable girl
brushing his intimate skin even more vigorously; she brought the brush up behind
his scrotum ensuring that the perineum was well scrubbed. The girl then stopped,
and at Miss Wendy's suggestion, passed the brush between his legs to the other
girl.
Stewart, smarting from the "grooming" pondered on what on earth the girl wanted
with two brushes. He soon found out: Still holding her own brush under his penis
she started to use the other brush to firmly scour the hair on his scrotum. The
cold had ensured that his testicles were held in a firm grip by the muscles with
no hope of them being forced to the side or out of harms way as they would in a
slack scrotum. Both he and they had to stand there and take it as they were
cruelly brushed with only the scrotum muscle-skin to protect them. The skin
itself soon became stinging hot which contrasted with the dull, growing ache
from the delicate bulbs. Unfortunately for Stewart, despite the pain and
humiliation his shrunken penis started to swell. Even more unfortunate for him,
Miss Emma suddenly arrived to see how her orders were being followed. All she
could see was his supported penis swelling to full erection as it lay on the
brush bristles.
"What in the hell is going on in here?" she shouted at everyone. "Are you
totally unable to control your emotions Boy?" she enquired of the lone male.
With considerable irritation she snatched both brushes from the girl and
advanced on Stewart ducking to pass under his right arm and then stand in front
of him. Her jacket had been removed and Stewart could see the effects of the
cold on her pert young nipples as she stood next to him. She place one brush
underneath where it had already been to support his now erect penis and the
other she brought down on the top, effectively making a bristle sandwich. At any
time this would have been a tender area for such treatment, but following his
previous nights rutting, the already sore and exposed glans had been rendered
excruciatingly so. She then proceeded to roll the organ by moving the brushes in
opposite directions.
Stewart, arms outstretched, tried to absorb the pain but his supporting knee
instinctively flexed in a futile attempt to remove his penis from the source of
the agony. With her face only inches from his she half whispered to him:
"Now you know how you made the German females feel last night, but don't worry,
I have asked Mrs Parsons for some of that cream that you were so generous with,
I do hope that it will make your pathetic little pecker less sore!"
She then continued to roll his penis but gave orders over her shoulder, that
Wendy was to prepare the condom for use. Stewart did not see the way the woman
unwrapped a standard condom, and with difficulty, squirted in some of the cream
from a bottle. He was aware that Miss Emma had stopped tormenting him and moved
to the side and then saw Miss Wendy advancing on him with the latex device in
her hands. Without any embarrassment on her part she pushed the latex over his
erect, scratched and throbbing penis, forcing it all the way to the base. She
then produced some elastoplast tape and secured the rim of the condom to his
hair and pubic mound. Clearly, they were anticipating a reduction in size that
they didn't want to result in the condom falling off.
At first, the embrocation was cold, thick and gave a certain amount of relief
from the stinging soreness. This feeling of relief was short-lived as the cream
started to work. The skin on the shaft as well as the abraded skin of the
bulbous head started to sting as if rubbed in rock salt, which it possibly had.
The next order was to untie his wrists and ankle from the leather thongs and
lead him from the stall, which Miss Wendy did by grasping the back of his neck.
The two younger girls watched his screwed up expression and bared teeth with a
look approaching sympathy, as he was half pushed and half dragged past them.
With the two stable girls following he was pushed into one of the large barns
where a pile of oblong straw bales had been piled together. Miss Emma
re-appeared with the inevitable crop tucked under her arm.
"As Miss Parsons mentioned, you are here for two reasons. Firstly your continued
disobedience of my mother's instruction that you are to keep your foreskin
pulled back and secondly your failure to crop the German female prisoner. We had
placed you in a position of authority; you let us down, and must now pay a
penalty. Your foreskin is undergoing its own discipline as you may have noticed
And...since you gave the older female thirteen with this crop, that would seem
to be a fair punishment for you to take on behalf of the prisoner you let off.
My horse seemed to find it rather painful when I used it on him this morning, so
I anticipate that your rather softer hide will find it even more so. Miss Wendy
and her girls will assist in restraining you over the bales."
The rough harsh bales had been arranged with a form of steps at one end and a
large platform at about waist level. Stewart found that they required him to
kneel on the steps and then lay across the level bales. Miss Wendy then sat
across his waist facing his feet effectively pinning his upper body to the
straw. Each of the stable girls then took a wrist and sat on the bales with
their outstretched booted feet pressed into a shoulder and an armpit. As they
lay back slightly pulling on his arms he was effectively pinioned into position.
His sore encased penis pressed against the hard straw stems. He lay there
without protest accepting the inevitable. The smell of fresh straw was mixed
with the horsy smell of the yard-girls as they awaited Miss Emma's convenience.
She stood, booted feet well apart, and swished the crop experimentally. The
sound was more than familiar to Stewart's ears, but this time he would be
feeling the effect of that plaited rod hitting his own buttocks. He had seen how
much it could hurt and now he was to feel it.
As usual, the first stroke although delivered with force across the centre of
his cheeks, did not immediately hurt. Within a few seconds this illusion
vanished as the searing pain reached his brain. With only a short break the
second stroke fell across the top of his buttocks where there was little padding
from his muscles. The rest followed at ten second intervals, some accompanied by
grunts of effort from the young girl.
Without the restraint of the three other females he would have been unable to
remain in position and he found a new respect for the stoicism of the last human
to feel the sharpness of the crop. The flogging continued until the final stroke
cut up into the crease at the tops of his thighs and Miss Emma curtly announced
that she had finished and he could be released. The two younger girls let go of
his wrists, and before Miss Wendy climbed off his back they closely examined the
swelling weals with their grubby fingers commenting on how much they swelled
compared to the horse flesh that they were used to. Brusquely, a flushed and
heavily breathing Emma ordered Stewart to his feet.
"Well taken Stewart, you have wiped the slate clean. You can remove your condom,
wash your penis get dressed and collect your kit; the transport will be here
shortly. You have my word that, unlike that idle slut Gilpin, when you get back
to the Centre they will be receiving a glowing report of your conduct here.
Stewart did as he was ordered trying to ignore the swelling nates and throbbing
pain that the young vixen had just left him with. At least it was over and he
wasn't facing a worse thrashing when he got back. Heaven knows what Mrs McEwan
had lined up for Gilpin. He had no choice other than to dress in the coffee
stained uniform and had just walked outside when, instead of the expected prison
truck, a small police van had driven up. The two young female officers were soon
in deep conversation with Miss Emma and both examined the crop with frequent
glances in his direction. Just then a despondent and dishevelled Gilpin dressed
in her schoolgirl uniform came out of the house being led by the ear by Miss
Parsons. She was told to stand next to Stewart.
The conversation continued for some time and was punctuated by frequent bursts
of laughter. Eventually the two police officers stood in front of the two
prisoners and looked them up and down. They were both in full uniform including
hats and jackets; both were of average height, a little on the heavy side with
one white and the other of Caribbean origin. The black officer, with Johnson on
her nameplate, spoke first and curtly ordered them to put their hands in front
of them and hold them together. Two pairs of handcuffs were unclipped from the
rear of each policewoman's waist and flicked down on the proffered wrists. The
white policewoman addressed them:
" It is our job to deliver you to the Correctional Centre and no way will we
stand any hassle from either of you. Should either of you step out of line we
can easily stop the van over in some secluded area and lay into you with our
batons so don't even think of it. You may find that the van we have today is a
little uncomfortable, as it normally transports police dogs around the county.
Again, we don't want any complaints so make the best of it back there".
Grasping the centre section of each handcuff the prisoners were led to the rear
of the van and the doors opened. The inner mesh door was then unlocked revealing
a bare metal floor with two bristle mats fixed over the wheel arches. A
decidedly doggy smell reached their nostrils.
"Both of you, strip off your lower clothes." Came the order.
Without hesitation Stewart removed his shorts and underpants and Gilpin took off
her short uniform skirt and panties. All were collected by Officer Johnson who
threw them to the floor at the front of the caged area. Next they were ordered
to half crawl into the van and sit on the wheel arches facing each other. They
both immediately appreciated that with their hands cuffed in front of them and
nothing to grip they needed to place their feet well apart to brace themselves.
From the look on Gilpin's face, her buttocks were extremely tender and the last
thing she needed was to be sitting on plastic tufts, indeed, the insides of both
thighs were bruised and wealed giving a clue as to the sensitive state of her
nates. The days when either of them would have been embarrassed by displaying
their genitals were long passed and both were fully engaged in accepting the
discomfort without complaint. The doors were slammed shut leaving the van in
almost total darkness as their journey commenced.
Whichever policewoman was driving she soon demonstrated that smooth handling of
a motor vehicle was not her speciality. It was reasonable to expect a few bumps
as they left the stable yard but she seemed skilled in finding the slightest
pothole in every surface she drove over. Bracing himself as best he could
Stewart soon found that his buttocks were spread to their maximum and the sharp
bristles were digging into the soft flesh of his crotch. Every so often their
driver managed to find a speed bump or similar that, when hit at speed, caused
them both to be thrown upwards and then slam down on the arches, even jabbing
the spikes into his anal area. Any thought that the prisoners had of resting
their agonised rears on the comparative comfort of the floor were dashed by the
frequent opening of a small hatch that enable the passenger in the front to keep
an eye on them. The thought of a discreet whacking with the two batons enabled
them both to hang on for dear life. They even found themselves wishing for the
relative comfort of the prison truck that had delivered them for "work in the
community".
Eventually the van came to an abrupt halt and the engine was switched off. The
rear doors were opened and in streamed daylight. Johnson ordered them to collect
their clothing, crawl out to stand next to her and dress. The bright sunlight
made them squint through half-closed eyes and they were both dressed before they
could properly look around. To their undisguised horror the first thing they
focussed on was a large sign.
"Male Correctional Centre".
Stewart spoke first and tried desperately to explain that they were both
prisoners at the female centre and that there had obviously been some mistake. A
uniformed wardress hurriedly checked the documents that the police had just
handed her and grudgingly agreed, but found both policewomen decidedly
unresponsive to a suggestion that they might like to take the pair a
considerable distance out of their way. She went into the guardroom and
following a lengthy telephone conversation returned to speak to them.
" I understand that the male here is undergoing some sort of experiment in being
held as a prisoner in the female centre. It does seem that there has been a
cock up in the administration, however, there is no way that you can be
transferred for several days and so you will be getting a taste of how males are
treated normally by the system. As for you girl, I have received permission to
let you experience life in this centre so in effect the experiment will be
reversed for a few days".
The two of them were stunned as even though they were both dreading a return to
the regime of their old centre, at least they knew what to expect and how to fit
in with the system. They had heard rumours how the Male Centres were run along
far stricter lines with even more brutal wardresses in charge.
Before they could even collect their thoughts a young chubby wardress was
summoned and took charge of them. With hardly a glance she told them to follow
her through the main gates and on to a small parade ground. Waiting, at rigid
attention were two groups of male prisoners still in their normal clothes.
"These wretches have just arrived to start their sentence so you two can join
them to make the numbers up. You boy, will join the group on the left and you
girl, will join the other. That will make thirteen in each squad which I intend
will be a very unlucky number for you all!"
Stewart turned to the wardess to ask if it would be possible for Gilpin to be in
the same squad as himself. From the way her expression changed to a look of
total disbelief he realised that he had made a big mistake and instinctively
assumed the attention position in the hope of assuring her that he meant no harm
and would submit to whatever she decided. She took a couple of paces to be close
to him and smiled broadly. Emboldened by her change of expression Stewart
relaxed. He simply didn't see it coming, and the next thing he knew the short
plump wardess had punched him hard in his stomach collapsing him to the floor.
As he lay at her booted feet, retching and doubled up he began to realise that
this was a different regime altogether.
To be continued.
