Certificate of Correction

                   CERTIFICATE OF CORRECTION         

    Part 1- At the Center

Here I am at the the Clark County Correctional Center. Thankfully I'm here as an
observer, not a participant. I should explain. My name is Rollin and I'm an
attorney. Today I'm here with the Volunteer Law Project representing Jennifer
Scott, a 15 year old who came through the juvenile justice system on an alchohol
possesion charge. In Clark County Ohio in the year 2010 there are certain
offences that can be cleared by the defendant obtaining a "Certificate of
Correction". By going through this program their record will be expunged, there
will be no jail time or fine, except restitution if appropriate. The program is
voluntary, but not everyone opts for it, for reasons which will become clear
later.

The introduction of corporal punishment into the criminal justice system did not
come about over night. For years, though, politicians and the public had
complained about money, sentencing for juveniles and jail space until finally in 
California in 2004, petty theft,some driving offenses, and vandalism became
punishable by caning. Enough of the public liked Southeast Asia's approach to
the problem of nonviolent offenses that they were ready to try something new.
Other states were quick to follow. In the wake of President Limbaugh's
conservative law and order platform, the country was ready to try a return to
the woodshed.


 At first, the states tried real "Singapore style" caning, but it quickly became
apparent that this was far too brutal for American sensibilities, as it
frequently resulted in permanent scarring and injury. Another problem was that
females were not originally subject to " the CP option" as it came to be called.
The Supreme Court settled that one rather quickly. It ruled that states could
not discriminate on the basis of sex in handing out punishments. Since the
prospect of brutal canings for females was too unattractive, the system had to
be toned down to fit both the crime and the offender.

 When California substituted the leather strap for the cane in 2005, the public
became more accepting. A strapping was more like the just punishment of youth
that many recalled from their own childhoods. Various states tried various
options. Most juvenile halls had a "punishment room", usually a converted
storeroom, where an offender would be strapped down over a trestle or table and
given the presribed number of licks or swats with whatever implement the state
deemed appropriate. It was all very unscientific.

Later on it became very scientific. Studies were conducted to determine the best
methods of administering corporal punishment both in a physical and in a
psychological sense. Elaborate systems evolved which combined equal mixtures of
shame, loss of dignity, and pain, to make the offender truly repentant and eager
to avoid repeating the experience.

Here in Ohio if you are between 13 and 18 this is what happens. If convicted and
sentenced in juvenile court, an offender is given 30 days to obtain a
"certificate of correction" which must be filed with the court. To obtain a
certificate, the convicted offender makes an appointment with the county
juvenile correctional center and reports on the appointed day at the appointed
time. They are permitted one witness and it cannot be a parent. Parents may wait
in a waiting area, but may not observe. The usual witness is an attorney who is
there to make sure that procedure is followed and to note any undue severity in
excess of state guidelines.

So here I was. I was representing Jennifer, a pretty girl with long blonde hair,
freckles and a nervous smile. She had never been in trouble before, but, caught
in a car with alchohol in her possesion, she was given 30 days to obtain one
Certificate of Correction tailored to this offense.

 I was recommended to Jennifer's parents by Karen, an old and very good friend.
Karen is a juvenile probation officer, who has Jennifer as one of her cases. I
didn't usually practice in juvenile court, but I did some criminal defense work
so I was at least qualified for this. I came into the case too late to try and
get a better deal for Jennifer. She was convicted and given the the chance to
opt for corporal punishment instead of jail or a fine. After conviction, her
parents decided not to appeal. I think they figured that having to get a
Certificate of Correction would teach Miss Jennifer a good lesson while having
the effect of expunging her record. Jennifer and some friends had been out late
one night and had been stopped for a traffic violation. The officer then found
open liquor bottles in the car. She was charged with possesion of alchohol. She
also happened to be the one driving. Luckily she was not under the influence.

Juvenile case officers have a role in the discipline of their charges. They are
present when the correction is meted out. The reason for this is so that the
juvenile will look on the officer as an authority figure from whom to take
direction, and would more likely obey the officer in the future. In addition
case officers are authorized to administer certain forms of corporal correction
for probation violations.

Today Karen is there because two of her charges have come in to obtain their
Certificates of Correction, having elected this option. I did not know who the
other one was.

 Karen is a short blonde with a voluptuous figure, large breasts, a tight waist
and a magnificent and gorgeous ass. In fact I know for a fact that she thinks
her butt is "too big". As for me I am completely enthralled with the sway of her
jouncy hind end. I like full derrieres on women, and to me, Karen is a beautiful
and sexy woman. I have known Karen for something like 7 years. We have been
friends, but not physically intimate with each other. Its hard to say why. The
chemistry and attraction is certainly there and we have both flirted with it. I
guess its just bad timing. We've been close even though we have at times been
with other people. It just seems like whenever I'm not in a relationship, she
is, and vice-versa. Now, however she is divorced and I've just broken up with
someone. We'll see what happens.


I am seated behind a glass partition in a sort of gallery with the rest of the
witnesses. The other witnesses permitted are the victims. There is a husband and
wife, owners of a food mart spray painted, or as they say, "tagged", by several
of the other juvenile offenders. Other than the witnesses, the room is empty. We
are waiting for things to start. Karen had explained to me previously that on
the appointed day the juvenile would have to report three hours before sentence
was scheduled to be carried out. A brief physical is given to verify that the
culprit is fit to undergo punishment. The case officers then conduct a last
interview explaining the seriousness of the crime, and explainig the procedure.
The state has even produced videos on offenses like drunk driving and vandalism
that the teens are required to view before punishment is meted out. The video
graphically illustrates the harm to society caused by the crime.

The teen is then led to a holding cell where  he or she  strips down to
underwear and socks. That was all the clothing allowed in the punishment
chamber. After that, they wait. The waiting is probably as hard as the actual
punishment. They sit in a bare cell, probably the last sitting they'll do for a
while.

Karen has been in this job for less than a year. She counsels juvenile offenders
as part of her job and sometimes that involves advising them as to whether they
should take "the CP option" if it is available for that offense. She tells me
she is conflicted about this. On the one hand, it offers a way to eliminate the
negative effect of a record and avoid time in juvie hall, a good deal for
youthful offenders. In fact after obtaining a Certificate of Correction she
tells me that there is little recidivism. Did I mention that similair
punishments are given in the prison system? I imagine that the prospect of the
whipping post like we have in Ohio scares a lot of these kids
straight---especially after getting a licking courtesy of the state. On the
other hand it is humiliating, to say the least, and probably very painful. This
is Karen's first time attending one of these punishment sessions for her cases
where she actually advised the kids and parents to go through with it. I know
she set me up to represent Jennifer so that I could attend and give her my
comments later. She will want my opinion as to whether she should advise this
course in the future.

Finally a door opens and three case officers and the Special Corrections Officer
with her two assistants enter. All corrections officers, the ones who will
administer the punishment, are women. The assistant officers are wearing smartly
tailored skirts and white blouses with a badge on the front. The Special officer
is a beefy red-haired woman in a Khacki uniform and a Sam Browne belt. She looks
like a formidable no nonsense type of woman. I was glad to be on my side of the
glass.

Another door opens and 6 teenagers are ushered in by guards holding clipboards.
The boys are in underpants and socks. The girls are in panties, bras, and socks.
There are 3 boys and 3 girls. The clipboards are handed to the case officers.
The miscreants sit on 6 chairs lined up direcly in front of the gallery with
their backs to us. Jennifer glances nervously at me before taking her seat. I
give her the thumbs up. What else is there to do?

In the "business" part of the room is some odd furniture. There are two benches,
each having a padded top. The top is shaped like a shallow "A" with restraints
at either end. An integral part of the bench is a slideable chair that slides
into a hollow space right under the apex of the bench. This is a spanking bench.
The victim is secured to the bench with wrist and ankle straps, a strap at the
backs of the knees and a strap across the middle of the back, with his/her
buttocks positioned at the apex. The officer sits at the chair and slides it in.
She is now seated with the miscreant directly over her lap, bottoms up. The
effect is rather like having the teen positioned for an old fashioned
over-the-knee spanking. The advantage is that the officer does not have the
weight of the culprit over her lap and the juvenile cannot move at all.

The other piece of furniture was what was known as "The Box". This is a padded
cube tilted slightly forward on short legs with restraints at wrists, ankles,
knees and back. When bent over the box and strapped in, the culprit's buttocks
are cocked upwardly presenting a raised, well rounded target for the application
of corporal correction.

The Special Officer was ready to start. Karen glanced at me and nodded with a
slight smile.

"All right, pay attention. I am Ms Carson.  My two assistants are Ms Miriam and
Ms Doreen. You already know your case officers. If you cooperate this will be
over soon and you may leave. As you know you are here for punishment, pure and
simple. It will hurt, but you will bear no permanent marks on your bodies. I,
along with my assistant officers will be administering the punishment. Now, make
no mistake about this, it will hurt. You will probably cry and holler, but don't
think that just because you start blubbering like babies that it will go any
easier. You got that?  This is the procedure. There are six of you. Two at a
time you will be placed over the spanking benchs. You will have your pants
pulled down and you will receive a two, three or four minute spanking to be
given by my two assistants according to your sentence. During this time period
you will receive about 50 smacks per minute on you bare tails with this." As she
spoke she held up an oval shaped paddle which was in reality a stiff piece of
leather sole with a rubber facing connected to a handle.

"We call this the "sandal". Maybe if your mothers had used their sandals on your
little hineys when you were younger you would not be here today. You are getting
your records wiped clean for this, so just know that it's gonna sting."

 "After all six of you have had your spankings, I will call your name and one at
a time you will come up here and bend over the box for the licking that the
court has  decreed as the second part of your sentence."

She let that sink in as the woeful teens eye the dreaded implements that hang on
the wall. There are the oval "sandals" the assistant officers would use. There
is a paddle that looks like a big spatula. It is made of some synthetic like
Lexan. The blade or "business" end is 4x8" and has pencil-sized holes. It is
joined to a handle by a narrow 2" strip that makes it flexible, like a fly
swatter. The result is a paddle that will impart an atrocious sting without
injury or severe bruising. There is also a thin rod  made of some  lightweight
synthetic polymer. The rod extends from a handle grip about 28". It is thin and
very whippy. It's the nearest thing we have to the cane, but it is more like a
switch which I have heard stings like absolute holy hell. I also understand it
leaves painful weals but, in the hands of a skilled whipper, will not break the
skin.  Ms Carson continues:   "You are all going to get a good, hard spanking
today, followed by a whipping with the rod or licks with the paddle and you all
deserve it.  Now, from this moment on there will be no swearing, cursing, foul
or abusive language. You will address all of us as ma'am or sir. I have the
power to impose additional punishment for violations of this rule and believe
me, I will do it. Do you understand?"

Six heads bob nervously. The fear in the room is palpable. This woman meant
business! Jennifer appears to be trembling. I couldn't help her now, her course
was set. She was to endure some real pain and she knew it. I wondered what it
must be like in her place, to know that in a few minutes you were going to be
stripped practically naked and whipped on your bare bottom.

The two assistants take the clipboards and each call out a name. One girl and
one boy rise timidly. The assistants take each by the arm and walk them to the
benchs. The command is given to lie over the bench, and both teens do so. The
restraining straps are buckled, hands, feet, back of the knees, back. This
arches both sets of buttocks towards the ceiling. The assistants grab both pants
and panties and ruck them down to mid thigh.  They walk to the wall and retrieve
a "spanker" from a hook. The assistant corrections officers now take their seats
and slide the chairs in. The moment of truth has arrived for these teen
miscreants.

"Set the timer for two minutes for these two" Ms Carson says to a guard. The
guard nods and presses a series of buttons. A digital display on the wall reads
two minutes. I assume it will count down.

"Miriam, Doreen, are you ready?"

"Then begin."

Miriam and Doreen bring the sandals down with a ringing smack! smack! smack! in
a brisk tattoo. They spank at a rate of about 1 spank per second and each one
looks like it is delivered with no small amount of force. The bare bottomed
teens start to yelp as the paddles crack down. The girl jerks her head up and
wails with each smack, the boy clenches his whole body in a vain attempt to ward
off the pain. Its a humiliating punishment and it is designed that way. These
kids are getting an old fashioned spanking like one over mommy's knee. The
position each is in is mortifying for a teenager, bare fannies bucking and
wriggling as sizzling spanks turn their hineys red. The clock counts down...too
slowly it seems. The smacks ring out. The teens yelp in anguish at the
relentless smacking, a two part chorus of "ouches". After two very long minutes,
the buzzer sounds signalling the end of part 1 of their ordeal. The guards
replace the underwear, and unbuckle the straps and the two teens stand, hopping
from foot to foot rubbing their injured bottoms.

"Thats enough of that! Sit back down you two! Call the next two names."

"Jennifer Scott and Russell Smith, stand up and come forward," intones a guard.

I see Jennifer rise on shaky legs. She is a pretty girl with long coltish legs.
She is small breasted, but has an ample bottom, well rounded, still a good bit
of baby fat back there. It wobbles as she shuffles toward the bench.

"Assume the position," says Ms Carson.

I hear Doreen say to Jennifer: "C'mon Honey, over you go, that's it...no, over
farther so the pad is under your pelvis, bottoms well up!"

"Set the timer for three minutes, please Ms Benson". The guard nods and resets
the timer.

"Doreen and Miriam, take their pants down." Pants and panties are rucked to mid
thigh. Jennifer whimpers. " Ladies, begin....now"

Jennifer howls at the first smack of the sandal on her left bottomcheek. She
continues howling as Doreen delivers a blistering spanking that cracks
alternately on left and right cheeks. Jennifers nude rear wobbles with each
smack. She is fair skinned so she reddens quickly. Her jiggling behind cannot
escape the awful barrage of spanks delivered by Doreen's sturdy arm. I am
watching intently for evidence of undue severity or cruelty, but I see none. The
force of the smacks seems the same as for the first teenager and the tempo is
the same. Its your basic good sound spanking that just stings like hell. I know
she is my client but I cannot deny that this is a highly erotic spectacle and I
am actually becoming aroused watching Jennifer's spanking. Finally the cacophony
of smacks and anguished yelping ends. They let Jennifer up and she walks back to
her chair sobbing and clutching her seat. Karen is watching me watching
Jennifer. I make some notes on a pad and will my erection to subside. Another
two are called up. The girl is a cute brunette pixie, about 5'3", 110 lbs with
long hair and a very cute ass which gets spanked to a tomato red hue amid her
howls for mercy. The boy, a stocky 15 year old howls more than the girl.

The spankings done, we are ready for the main event.

Ms Carson takes the clipboard.

"Mandy Johnson, stand up." Mandy rises slowly. She was one of the first two to
be spanked. She is a tall strawberry blonde with a well fleshed bottom. The tiny
pink nylon panties she wears barely contain her cheeks. It doesn't matter. She
wont have them much longer.

"Mandy Johnson, you have been convicted of theft, namely shoplifting. The
Juvenile Court of Clark County has decreed that to obtain a Certificate of
Correction you must receive ten swats with the paddle on your bare bottom. Come
forward and assume the position over the Box.

Doreen and Miriam each grab an arm and escort Mandy to the Box. She is a well
built girl for her age which I peg at 15 or 16. When buckled into the box, her
rear curves are prominently presented for punishment. It's rather like bending
over a barrel in the woodshed, a bygone era reinstated in the 21st century.

My musings come to a halt. Ms Carson has retieved the perforated paddle from the
wall and has planted her feet to Mandy's right side. She nods to Doreen who
peels down the brief panties exposing Mandy's ass, now a hot pink from the
spanking. She lines up the paddle on Mandy's quivering buttocks and raises her
arm to shoulder level, then..... SMACK! Mandy lets out a shriek. Again....
SMACK! The paddle flattens her fanny sending little ripples through the flesh.
SMACK! Mandy howls again. Her bottom jiggles at impact. SMACK! Four. SMACK!
Five. The smacks come about 15 seconds apart. Mandy sobs and pleads but SMACK!
the paddling continues until ten licks have been duly administered. The guards
unbuckle the restraints and help her up. Tears are streaming down her face. They
escort her back to her chair. I don't think it's padded. She sits very gingerly.

The next name is called and the boy spanked with Mandy is put over the Box and
paddled. His sentence is 15 licks. He breaks down crying after 8. The next one
is Russell Smith. His crime is vandalism. He is one of the taggers. The husband
and wife grocery store owners perk up. This is part of what they came to see.

The boy bends over the box and is strapped in. Miriam strips his pants down. Ms
Carson replaces the paddle on the wall and selects a rod. She whips it through
the air a few times, testing its flex. It makes a whining sound. Russell's
buttocks clench at the sound.


"This will hurt, boy, but it will hurt a lot more if you clench. Now relax those
butt cheeks," she says tapping his ass with the switch. Russell moans in
embarrassment, but tries to comply. Ms Carson brings the switch back and with a
deft flick of the wrist, whips it down with a SWISSSH.....THWACK! "Ahhh....rrrr"
screams Russell. This looks a lot more painful than the paddle. Jennifer should
be grateful that she is getting the paddle and not this whippy rod.
SWISSHHH......THWACK! "Ow....ow....ow", yells the boy in anguish. The switch
falls 8 more times, whippy wristy strokes that smack the bare skin, indenting
the flesh and leaving livid red weals. Russell is no hero. He howls lustily with
each stinging stripe of the rod. The 10 strokes are given at intervals of about
20 seconds between each one. This allows the pain from one stroke to be fully
"appreciated" before another is given.

When Russell's whipping is over he is allowed to rise. He clutches his cheeks
trying to soothe the intense sting. His face is flushed and streaked with tears.
He is escorted back to his chair. It now looks like it's Jennifers turn. Her
name is called. The charge is read along with the sentence-12 licks with the
paddle. She stands on wobbly legs and Doreen leads her to the Box. There is a
look of panic on her face. She lays down over the Box arching her pretty
buttocks upward. Her thin panties are stretched tight across her bottom in this
posture. They won't protect her long.

Ms Carson retieves the paddle from the hook on the wall. She nods to Doreen who
peels Jennifer's panties down for the second time that day.

I can't say that Jennifer's paddling was unfair or too severe. The swats are
given full force, and poor Jennifer howls at each one, but she is paddled with
the same degree of severity as the others. Ms Carson administers good solid
smacks that crack like pistol shots, making Jennifer's cheeks wobble on impact.
Her fanny turns a tomato red as the swats are laid on. Jennifers cries out but
my angle is poor and I cannot see if she is crying tears yet. I assume she is.
Twelve solid licks-5 minutes of agony. It is a trying ordeal, no doubt. Ms
Carson raises her arm for the twelvth lick and SMACK! "Owwwwww!",  and it's
over. Jennifer is let up. She is weeping copiously, her face a mask of
humiliation and pain. I know Karen and I will interview her before she leaves.

The other punishments proceed. The others, the taggers, are given the rod. This
is the sentence for vandalism. No one endures the whipping without breaking
down. The whippings are hard but I see no skin breaking. There are tears and
howls aplenty. Ms Carson obviously knows her business. The idea is to administer
maximum pain with minimum damage.

The session completed, The teens are led back to their holding cells where they
may dress. Karen and I will interview Jennifer before she leaves with her
parents who are waiting. I catch up with Karen as I approach the interview room.

"Well," she says, "what did you think?"

"I think it was pretty intense. Those kids really got their butts whipped. They
all bawled like babies."

"Yeah, it was....like a bad prison movie, you know....only it was real. I don't
know. I wonder how much it really hurts, what it feels like."

"You can find out," I said with a grin. "Ms Carson can show you, I'm sure."

She punched me playfully. "Not on your life. That woman is scary."

"Then maybe I can demonstrate, my dear."

I expected another dig in the ribs but Karen just cocked her head and gave me a
cool, appraising look.  She then said, "If you're not doing anything tonight,
I'll take you to dinner. I want to talk to you about today."

I readily agreed. We walked into the interview room, where Karen would give her
charges their signed certificates. Jennifer was there, standing, naturally. Her
face was still flushed and streaked from crying.......

Part 2 is coming. A Date With Karen

Here is part 2 of a saga of our immediate future (sure).

                Certificate of Correction Pt 2

I came away from the experience of attending a correctional session at the
Juvenile Center with mixed emotions. On the one hand it had been both horrific
and fascinating. On the other, decidedly arousing. I had watched 6 juvenile
offenders spanked on their naked buttocks while laid across a bench. I had seen
the matrons, the lady corrections officers, smack each pair of bottom cheeks, so
lewdly offered up, between 100 and 200 times. I had witnessed the shameful
paddling and caning of those same teenagers on their reddened posteriors as they
were held strapped in over the dreaded "Box" which elevated and exposed their
naked rear ends for punishment.

In the post session interview with my client, Jennifer Scott, I came to
understand first hand how horrible and humiliating it was. Jennifer had stood
there, too sore to sit down and had sobbed that she would never go through this
ordeal again. It was painful beyond anything she had ever experienced, she had
said. And the humiliation of being practically stripped naked for it, in front
of witnesses, was so mortifying she did not know if she could face the world
again. I tried to tell her that a lot of kids her age had gone through this
program and that her friends would be sympathetic, but all she said she wanted
to do was crawl in a hole and die.

Karen too was sympathetic, after all Jennifer was one of her cases now. There
was an automatic probationary period even though the slate would be wiped clean
90 days hence. Karen presented her with the signed Certificate of Correction
which meant that she had gone through with the program. She or her parents would
send that to the Court. In 90 days if there were no repeat offenses, her record
was expunged. If there was a probation violation, Karen would take care of
determining a recomendation to the Court about disposition.

So it was a tearful and repentant Jennifer who walked out of the Center that
afternoon in the company of her parents. The best I could tell them was that
Jennifer hadn't suffered any more than any of the other kids, that there was no
damage to her skin, and that the staff followed proper procedure.I added,
though, that she was one well spanked little girl, and that she should be
allowed now to put this incident behind her.

I met Karen that night at Luigi's, a favorite Italian restaurant of ours. She
wanted to talk about what we had seen.

"Well, what did you think?" she said, sipping some pinot gris. She was dressed
in a short sleeveless summer dress that showed off her wonderous breasts and
athletic legs. It exposed a generous amount of cleavage and came only to mid
thigh. When we had met outside I remembered praying for a strong wind. I was
still in quite a state.

"It was the most lurid spectacle I've ever seen, if you really want to know, but
I guess its better than jail or time in Juvie Hall."

"Yeah, both of those could be worse, and, there is corporal punishment in both
of those places as well. This way they get the whole thing over with in one
shot."

"Well, there's something to be said for that," I acknowleged, "but, wow, it
really looked painful. That Ms Carson was all business, and she doled out pretty
hard licks, especially with that cane or whatever it was."

"It's a hollow rod made of some synthetic. It's supposed to mimic rattan or
something. The real thing you have to soak in water to keep it springy. That
stuff stays whippy, but you have to know how to use it."

"Do you?" I inquired.

"No", but I am supposed to know how to use the 'Sandal'". This was an oval
shaped piece of leather covered in a thin rubber on the "business" side. It
appeared to be a milder form of punishment, rather like a spanking with mom's
beach sandal.

"YOU? Use one of those things to spank someone?"

"Yes. It's part of the job. We have the authority to spank--not more than 100
smacks at a time--for things like probation violations. This short-cuts getting
the Court involved with trivial stuff. Sometimes there are all kinds of
conditions of probation, like not skipping school. If the kids mess up, I can
take him or her down the hall to room 211 and dish out a good old fashioned
spanking."

"You're kidding! Have you spanked anybody?"

"No, not yet. But there is a little miss I have to see Monday who has been
caught trying to buy cigarettes. She was busted at an underage party with a lot
of drinking going on and just put on probation. I'm thinking it might be
appropriate for her. Changing the subject...Rollin let me ask you something. Did
you ...er get turned on at all watching?"

"I cannot lie. You bet I did. I mean it wasn't just the almost nude state of
these teenage girls. It was the whole situation...the power or the exercise of
that power....the crying, the wriggling, the helpless postures, you know, bare
buns in up the air, getting smacked, the whole thing. It kinda bothered me with
Jennifer...I mean, she's my client, but I got to say, seeing her bare tail get a
whipping was sexy as hell."

"I have to admit, I felt the same," grinned Karen sheepishly. " But I was
imagining myself in their place. I did used to get spankings, but it has been
awhile."

"Really? When did you get your last spanking?"

"Oh I was 14 and it was at camp. It all started when a bunch of us girls tried
to sneak over to the boys camp across the lake. We were going to meet the boys
in the woods but the counselors caught us. They were pretty upset, they could
have lost their jobs and all. They said that they wouldn't report us if we took
punishment from them and we all said ok. Our cabin counselors Sue and Janey and
their assistant Carrie were college girls. Sue and Janey were seniors  and
Carrie was a freshman. The next day at noon rest time they took us girls out to
the nature cabin. There were 8 of us in on it. They pulled out some chairs and
put them in kind of a circle. One at a time we had to pull our pants down, bend
over a lap, and take 25 whacks with the flat of the hand. They took turns at
dishing out the spankings. I don't remember it hurting so much, it was just
humiliating to be spanked like a little kid, bare butt on display and all. And
that wasn't the end of it. From then on when any of us acted up, it was out to
the nature cabin for an over-the-knee session with Sue or Janey. I got it
several times that summer."

"Tell me all about it! Inquiring minds want to know!"

"Some other time, Rollin...now be serious-- you're getting me sidetracked. And
here I am, I'm trying to give you an overview."

Karen contiued: "Other than that, mom spanked me when I was younger, but it was
usually over quickly. That camp spankings though, we had time to think about it.
The weird thing was that it was kind of exciting. I always had butterflies so
bad, but seeing my friends getting it bare made me feel funny, you know? And it
felt all warm afterward...my butt I mean. Our counselors were kind of
semi-serious about it, like it was a joke. You know, they would smile and say
stuff like, 'ooh, Karen and Cathy didn't make their beds in time, looks like a
spanking', and everyone would troop out to the nature cabin or sometimes this
clearing in the woods to see justice meted out. But it was just a game, you
know?"

I didn't know. But what the hell, the image of a younger Karen with her little
camp shorts pulled down and being spanked on the bare fanny over the knee of
some buxom sorority sister beauty was giving me a woody.

"What about you Rollin. I bet you got spanked all the time. You can be
so.....exasperating. C'mon, you can tell me."

"Ok, ok. I was a handful. Until I was about 10, mom did the honors. When she was
at her wits end, Mom would haul me into the bathroom. She'd say it was time for
a real "pantsdowner", that's what she called it. She'd yank my pants down, take
a seat on the commode, and pull me over her knee. Then she would spank. Hard and
fast. No set number. What I remember is how loud all that smacking was in that
bathroom. I'd howl, all right. I'd wiggle and yell but she would smack away til
it felt like my ass was on fire. She would sting my little backside until she
figured I was real sorry for whatever it was I'd done. Then she would give me a
hug and a kiss and that was it."

"How did you feel about it?"

"It was just part of being a kid. I could be a holy terror at times, I know."

"You still can," said Karen grinning mischievously, "but see, thats what's
interesting, when it was over it was over, you were fully paid up and life went
on. That's why I'm thinking this system isn't so bad."

"So are you going to paddle little whats-her-name on Monday?

"Antonia, her name is Antonia DuBois. She's a rich kid and a snotty one to boot.
And yeah, I might just have to spank little Antonia. I'd say based on her
attitude, she could use a good spanking. But I need more data," said Karen with
a kind of faraway look. Then a look of determination crossed her face, as if she
had made up her mind about something. "Rollin, lets go home to my place. I need
your help with something."

"We just got drinks," I protested.

"We'll eat later. First we have to do something."

Stranger and stranger, I thought, but ok, I'm game. Karen rose and once again
her beauty almost knocked me over. That is not much of a dress to put so much
girl into, I thought. We drove back to her place. When we got there she asked me
if I wanted another drink. I said I was ok but she said something about liquid
courage and made herself a double. Then she sat down next to me on the couch.

"Rollin, we've been close for a long time and I have to say I have, well,
certain feelings for you, so I hope what I'm about to ask doesn't spoil things.
I don't think it will, knowing you, but I have to say that."

"Karen, I feel the same way, and I doubt that there is anything you would ask me
to do that would change that. I have felt so much affection for you for so long.
I just want us to be closer."

With that Karen looked at me for a moment then leaned forward and planted a kiss
right on my mouth, her tongue working its way in to find mine. Her arms went
around me and she hugged me fiercely. I took her in my arms. It seemed as if a
wall of passion that had been restrained for so long was about to burst. Finally
we broke.

"Whew!" I said. "What was that for?"

"Partial payment in advance", she said coyly.

"In advance of what you little minx? What I want to do right now is ravish you
royally!"

"Ummm...so masterful too. This is good." Then she got serious again. Women are
so mercurial. It drives me crazy.

"Rollin,...here it is," she began, "I...I...need to know what it feels like. If
I'm going to give one, I have to know what it is like."

"Huh? What what is like? What are you talking about?"

"Spankings, Rollin, spankings....with the sandal. My job, I might have to do
it."

She sat up and squaring her shoulders, said with a look of determination,

"Rollin I want you to spank me. I want you to give it to me just like at the
Correctional Center. With one of those spankers, the Sandal. I have to know what
they feel, what they go through."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. Karen, she of the beautiful ass
who had just taken our simmering friendship to the next level with that
passionate kiss, who had treated me to this lurid spectacle, who had regaled me
with recollections of her delightful adolescent paddywhackings, wanted me to
spank her! Like it was some big favor??

The 'ol computer figured this one out pretty quick.

"Uh...well, I guess so." I said, feigning reluctance.

"Then you'll do it!" She breathed in relief.

"Yes, but don't be too grateful yet," I warned.

"Ummm...yes, " she said, biting her lower lip. Then she straightened again.

"I need this, Rollin, and I need it to be authentic. Don't hold back, ok?"

I nodded.

"I'm going to get ready. I brought one of the Sandals home. The best way is for
you to sit in the middle of the sofa. When I'm over your lap it will be the way
we have it in room 211. We just have a wide padded bench, not one of those
special spanking benches. I'll be right back."

She walked into the next room and returned with a "sandal". This was an oval
shaped piece of leather with a rubberized backing held between two pieces of
wood that were clamped together to form a handle. Karen handed me the bat.

"We can give, at most, 100 licks with this. That is what you should give me.
Here...". And she handed me the wicked little paddle.

She looked for all the world like a contrite schoolgirl handing daddy the paddle
that he would spank her with.

She turned around and asked me if I would "please help the lady out of her
dress". She explained that it was underwear only in the punishment room and she
wanted to be treated "like one of the kids."

"Just like the teenagers? Are you sure?" I asked.

She did not flinch.

"Everything. Just like you saw Jennifer get tanned by Doreen."

"Ok," I said, unzipping her dress, "Take this dress off and your shoes."

She slipped the flimsy dress over her head, which left her in bra and panties.
Her nicely endowed breasts strained against the bra and her luscious ass was
barely contained by the tiny panties. I had seen her in a bathing suit before
but nothing could compare with this. She had a narrow waist and a firm fully
fleshed posterior that jutted out impudently.

"Are you ready for this?" I asked taking the spanker in hand, flexing it,
testing the weight.

She looked me straight in the eye. "Yes, Rollin, I am. Take me across your knee
and give it to me good. 100 smacks, well laid on, as they say."

"Then get yourself across my lap, young lady" I said, taking a seat on the
couch.

She prostrated herself across my lap, resting her pelvis directly over my groin,
arching those magnificent buttocks up. I took the paddle in hand and rested it
on her rear.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Rollin?" she said with a grin as she turned
her upper body slightly. "My panties, they need to come down." And she lifted
her bottom up so I could slide her panties down to her knees. I took the
waistband of her panties and tugged them down revealing her glorious nude hind
cheeks. She turned forward and rested her face on her hands. I was ready to
begin.

I took the Sandal raised my arm and brought it down with a loud SMACK! squarely
in the middle of of Karen's nude fanny. The cheeks wobbled deliciously and a
patch of red arose where I had struck.

"Oooh..." breathed Karen.

SMACK! again I whipped down the leather paddle smacking her left cheek.

"Owwww...." yipped Karen.

Taking a firm grip I started to spank in a  slow but steady rhythym, one
side....smack!.... then the other, smack!.... sometimes....smack!... right
across the middle. Karen gripped the cushions of the sofa and gave little yelps
with each few smacks.

"Are you counting?" I said. "You wanted 100, remember?"

"Oooh..yes Rollin, I think you've given me 8 or 9. I'll count. Please continue
my spanking, kind sir."

"Ok, here goes...."

And I started up once again, determined to make it meaningful. I smacked the
sandal down against her nether cheeks at the rate of about one smack every two
seconds. I figured this was a good way to let her feel each spank distinctly.
Her behind started to redden and the succulent bottomcheeks bobbed and jiggled.
After a while Karen was wriggling her luscious body all over my lap. I just knew
she had to be able to feel my hardening penis. All the while she breathlessly
maintained the count. SMACK! "37" SMACK! "38" SMACK! "Oooh...39" SMACK!
"oww...40". I was mesmerized watching the lascivious jiggle of her bare buns
with each hearty smack of the Sandal. As I neared 70 her movements became more
animated and the yelps which accompanied the count became more vocal. Karen
began to flutter her feet and hump her body up and down. It almost seemed as if
she were deliberately raising her sit spot to meet the descending crack! of the
paddle. She wanted a bare fanny tanning and she was getting it. Having watched
the correctional officers I had a pretty good idea of how hard to spank and I
laid the spanks on very firmly. As we neared 100, a climax of sorts seemed to be
building. Her cries now more frantic, the noisy smacks seeming louder, the
bucking and wriggling of her nude bottom, all of this culminated in the last few
smacks of the wicked Sandal. SMACK! "yeowww...97" SMACK! "Ohh...Rollin...98"
SMACK! "99" and...SMAAAACK!!! "ow..ow..ow...Rollin you beast!...100".

I stopped. She lay for a moment across my lap seemingly drained and making
little noises like "Ah...ah...ah...". Then she jumped up. Her hands flew to her
red seat and she rubbed as she bent halfway over sticking out her behind lewdly.
Her mouth was open and her eyes were wide as saucers.

"My God!!  That really stung! Oh wow!"

She did a little dance, hopping from one foot to the other. It was as sexy a
thing as I had ever seen. Finally she slowed down. She didn't even pull up her
panties, she just stretched out her arms and fell into mine. Gripping my head
with one hand she pulled my lips to hers and proceeded to kiss me passionately.
I ran my hands all over her body. She winced when I first touched her bottom.
The cheeks were hot to the touch and I slowly rubbed and kneaded them, hoping to
assuage some of the sting. My hand eventually found the bush between her legs.
As I suspected, she was wet. She gave alittle moan as I ran my fingers along the
slippery folds of her labia. She moaned louder as my fingers found the little
button of her clitoris and I massaged it gently. She broke off the kiss and
stood back. Her fingers reached behind her as she undid the clasp of her bra.
Shucking the bra, she freed her glorious tits. Her hands went to the waistband
of my pants and she yanked them down. Falling to her knees she reached into my
undershorts and pulled out my engorged member. My prick disappeared between her
lips as she took me into her mouth, slowly drawing her lips across the glans and
swirling her tongue around the head.

I couldn't stand much more of this! I pulled her head back and stood her up,
then I took off the rest of my clothes. We walked hand in hand to her bedroom
where at long last she got her royal ravishing. I took her in every way I could
think of. She was wet and yielding but her tight tunnel gripped my member as I
slid in and out of her building that delicious friction to shattering crescendo.
I especially liked taking her from behind as she knelt on all fours, my tummy
now spanking her wobbly globes as my hard rod disappeared between the
red-suffused cheeks, over and over again. Then she rode me, astride my legs as I
grabbed her breasts pinching the nipples. I held out as long as I could but
finally gave up and came, pumping furiously. She said later that she came more
than once. We collapsed in a heap on the bed.

Later we dressed and puttered around in her kitchen. We were both famished. She
fixed some pasta and a salad and we sat down to eat.

"When you were spanking me, toward the end, my rear was so hot and burning that
I thought I couldn't stand it. Each smack was like a splash of fire on my hind
end that just got hotter and hotter."

"Isn't that the idea?" I said.

"I think so. It was really a sharp shock. But you know what? It made me feel
sexy. Maybe 'cause it was you and I knew what was coming next. And when you
stopped and I got to rub my bottom, soon it felt all pleasantly hot and tingly."

"Well, then I guess your experiment is a success. Little miss Antonia might not
be sitting comfortably for a while after Monday, I'm thinking."

"Uh...Rollin, the experiment isn't over yet."

Whatever did she mean by that?

Next ---- Pt 3

                        Certificate of Correction Pt 3

When I awoke the next morning, Karen was already up. I could hear her rustling
around in the kitchen. She heard me in the bathroom and called to me, telling me
to come on down for breakfast. "And don't bother to dress!" she admonished in a
sing-song lilt. I staggered downstairs in my t-shirt and boxer shorts to find
Karen in a flimsy nighty bouncing about in the kitchen. At her command I sat
down and was treated to a hearty breakfast served by Karen in the little pink
baby doll neglige that hid little. My penis gave a little twitch at the sight of
those luscious breasts and her jouncy rear end. I noticed that her ass seemed
yet a bit pink from the previous night's festivities. Hmmm....I was starting to
get worked up again, all right. We sat down and ate. I was eying Karen as
hungrily as the eggs, and I was famished.

"Are you done?" she said over our third cup of coffee. "Because if you are, I
want to continue our experiment," she said grinning.

Mmmm boy, I thought. You bet I want to get my hands on those pnuematic buns of
hers again.

"Are you sure you are up for this again?" I said with genuine concern. "Your
fanny still looks pinkish."

"Oh, you're not going to smack MY bottom this morning........oh no," she said
giggling.

Then it dawned on me.

"Wait a minute...you don't mean to..."

"Oh yes I do! Come on Rollin. You agreed to help me. I now know what a smacking
with that spanker is like ...thank you very much," she said, lifting and giving
her rear end a rub," but I also need to know how to give one."

I choked on the coffee. "You've got to be kidding. You want to smack ME with
that thing?"

Karen huffed,  "What's the matter, .....are you chicken? To take a little
spanking from a girl? A strong, brave guy like you?"

I was trapped and I knew it. I mumbled a surly ok. Karen broke into a big smile,
and said, "Good boy," pinching my cheek playfully. There was silence for a
moment.

"Well.... no time like the present for giving my brave boy his spanking. Come
with me young man," she said with a mock serious tone.

  We got up from the table and Karen took my arm and led me into the living room
where the Sandal lay on the coffee table. Karen sat down and crooked her finger,
grinning all the while, beckoning me to her side. I sighed and shuffled to her
side reluctantly. She patted her thighs and I draped myself across her lap. She
leaned over, her breasts brushing against my back, and took up the spanker.

"Lift up Rollin. This is the moment of truth for all naughty boys." I obeyed and
felt her fingers in the waistband of my shorts. She tugged my boxers to my knees
fully baring my hind end. A cool breeze fanned my rear as she patted it with the
spanker. She gave my fanny a few more tentative taps and said: "I am going to
give you what I think they call a good SOUND spanking! Now don't move. Be brave.
After all I took mine, so you should take yours."

Then she started to smack. She was tentative at first and the first few spanks
were tingly and somewhat pleasant. Then she really got into it, putting some
force behind the blows, and my bottom started to heat up. I felt solid hard slow
smacks for about the first ten then she switched to a rapid cadence for the next
ten. My bottom started to really sting as she laid on smack after smack, 
alternating one side at a time, sometimes right across the middle. I could
imagine what she looked like, a determined look on her pretty face,  arm
flashing in the air, breasts heaving and then bringing the Sandal down with a
loud smack. My body gave a jerk with each sonorous smack! that landed. I gasped
and wriggled. My sit-spot was heating up and I knew my buns must be getting red
by now.

"How (smack!) does this (smack!) feel (smack!) Rollin? "( Smack! smack! smack!)

"Oww....it stings."

"Good.(smack! smack!). You probably deserve it for all the stuff (smack! smack!)
you got away with when you (smack!) were (smack!) a kid. (Smack! smack! smack!)"

"Yeowww...ouch ...ow ....ouch. That's enough....stop!"


"No...not yet...tell me is it worse with slow even spanks like this?
(smack!.....smack!.....smack!......smack!), or fast spanks---- all at once like
this?" smack!spank!swat!whap!smack!crack!spank!

"Ow...ow...ow..ow....they're both bad", I yelped, "Now for god's sake stop!"

"Just a few more good hard ones, Rollin. I'm pretending you are a naughty 16
year old truant. This(smack!) will (smack!) teach(smack!) you(smack!) to get to
school(Smack! whack! swat! spank!whap!)"

"ouch..ouch...ow..ooh...Karen...stop now? ok?"

I imagine I looked like a 16 year old truant lying over her knee with a beet red
bottom and howling for mercy after a good licking from the truant officer. She
stopped and I hopped up off her lap rubbing my flaming buns and doing a little
dance as I ooh'ed and ahh'ed. As the fire subsided to a hot glow, amazingly, my
cock began to harden again.  I contemplated Karen's barely concealed charms in
the little nighty. Karen reached out and took my throbbing member in her hand.

"Ohhh...is this for me? Maybe there is some benefit after all to a good old
fashioned spanking for you, Rollin. We may have to do this again. I know it
turned me on."

And with that she stood up and doffed the flimsy nighty to reveal her glorious
nakedness. While I stood she knelt and took me in her mouth until I could stand
no more. I pulled her up and flung her to the couch. She was more than ready and
I slid right in. We commenced to fuck furiously, building quickly to a climax.
We rested awhile in each other's arms then started up again, this time very
slowly. And so it went...

We made love all weekend, just friends no more. All too soon it became Monday
morning.

***********************************************************************


We met at her place after work. Karen was bustling around in the kitchen fixing
a casserole. I could tell she was bursting to tell me about her day and I was
curious about her case that she had mentioned, a girl named Antonia DuBois.

"You would'nt believe my day!" she said. "Wow, what an education."

"I'm all ears. Did little miss Antonia get her botty smacked?"

"And how! But that's not the half of it. I got to the office down at Juvenile
and about 10am I get this call on the intercom from Eva Findje. She's been there
for a while. She's in her late 30's tall, short platinum blonde hair, a real
nordic goddess type. She wants me to witness corporal punishment. See, whenever
we are going to administer CP at our level, which we have authority to do, we
have to call in another case officer as a witness. Well, I haven't been there
that long so it was my first. I had noticed this kid, about 15 and his mother
coming in earlier and they went into Eva's office. I didn't think any more about
it until I got the call. So anyway I go down to Eva's office and this kid, his
name was Ricky, he's sitting there white as a sheet. Eva told me later that when
he came in he was snotty and rude. That was one of the reasons Eva decided on
CP. It seems Ricky is on probation for repeated curfew arrests and last night
the cops picked him up again. He spent the night in Juvie and his mom was there
to pick him up. They brought him in when his mom arrived and he starts mouthing
off to Eva. Big mistake. Eva tells Ricky she won't tolerate disrespect and his
mother says that he is rude to her all the time. Eva tells his mom that a good
hard spanking might help to fix that and his mom agrees. Now Ricky is starting
to sweat. Eva then decides that administrative CP is called for and calls me
in."

"As I walk in Ricky is sitting there wringing his hands and Eva is writing on a
form. It's the form we all fill out when we are going to dish out administrative
CP. I notice she puts Ricky down for 50 licks. Ricky starts to plead with his
mom who just shakes her head. She tells him he has had this coming for a long
time. Eva opens a drawer and takes out the Sandal. Ricky's eyes get as big as
saucers. Eva stands up to her full 5'11" height and says 'Lets go, Ricky.' Ricky
cringes but his mom pushes him out the door. Eva is in front tapping that paddle
in her hand and her heels click as we walk down the hall. At the admin desk Eva
asks Julie if room 211 is vacant. She gives Ricky this big evil grin and says,
"go right in, no waiting." Eva tells Ricky to go inside."

"Once inside Eva sits on the bench. This is a wide black padded exercise bench
like you'd find at the gym, except that is has a vertical back in the middle.
This was the old model spanking bench and they still use them for younger kids.
Anyway Eva demands that Ricky put out his hands. She secures them with soft
restraints, then positions Ricky to her right. She undoes his belt, unzips his
fly and pulls his pants down. Ricky is blubbering and protesting, but mom just
shakes her head, no. Eva pulls Ricky right over her knee and props him so that
his fanny is the highest point of his body. Then she takes his underpants down.
Ricky is really squealing now, begging to be let off."

"Eva tells Ricky he is getting 50 licks and she asks me to count. I nod and she
brings that little spanker down on Ricky's little bottom with a loud crack. She
really puts it to him. Eva spanks slow and hard. She must have taken 5 minutes
to give Ricky his 50 swats and I bet it was the longest 5 minutes of his young
life. Each smack was deliberate and given as hard as she could make it. Eva does
not hold back. He really got a good tanning. He squealed like a stuck pig with
every spank and that was a lot of squealing because she spaced the spanks about
10 seconds apart. Ricky's fanny went from white to pink to cherry red. He tried
kicking his legs but Eva held him down and just kept spanking one cheek then the
other. I think it hurt more than a fast spanking because he had time to absorb
each one and think about the next."

"Ricky is crying real tears now and begging Eva to stop. She lectures him
between each lick of the final 10. I guess she wanted to make sure the lesson
was driven home. Finally she lets him up. Ricky hops up and does this frantic
little dance, rubbing his red butt, oblivious to the fact that three women are
watching. Finally he "comes to" , so to speak and pulls his pants back up. You
should have seen it! His face was as red as his fanny."

"Eva shakes the paddle at him and says something like 'Let that be a good
lesson, young man. Don't let me find you back here again!' Then Ricky's mom
turns to Eva and asks her in this oh-so- sweet voice where can she find one of
those Sandal paddles. You should have seen the look on Ricky's face after that
one. It was priceless."

"Sounds like an interesting start to the day," I ventured.

"It gets better. After watching Eva, I know what the drill is, and after
ah...practicing on you, I think I know how to do this."

"Well, I would hope my participation in your 'experiment' was of some help," I
said dryly. "What happened next?"

"I think I told you about this case. There's this girl. Antonia DuBois. Snooty.
Rich girl. She's a truant, an habitual one. School authorities complain to us
and we have to process them through here. In a lot of states she'd get the
paddle at school but I guess we aren't as enlightened here. Anyway, now its a
probation violation. I don't want to take it to court, what are they going to
do?"

"Make her get a Certificate?" I ventured.

"Maybe after a few more violations, the court would recommend that. But I wanted
to nip it in the bud now. I thought maybe a short painful shock to Miss
Antonia's fundament might put her back on the bus and get her out of our hair.
We really have bigger problems, like shoplifting and drinking and drugs."

"So she comes in with her mother who I can see is at her wit's end with this
child. She's a very pretty girl, she has to be popular. You know, short blonde
hair in a pageboy style, nice figure, about 5'7", long legs, cute face. Drives
the boys to distraction for sure. A real man killer.

"So we start to talk. I explain that legally she must be in school at her age.
She is sullen and snippy, as if this whole thing is some big inconvenience for
her. Her mother chimes in, echoing what I'm saying, but Antonia just rolls her
eyes. I turn to her mother and say something like 'it looks like we are not
making an impression here.' Her mother nods and then I drop the bomb. In a
matter-of-fact voice I tell Antonia that in view of her attitude I think the
administration of case officer level CP is appropriate.

Antonia does not know what this means. 'In lieu of reporting this violation to
the court, I am proposing a non-formal sanction in this case and hope that
afterwards you learn to comply with the conditions of your probation.' Antonia
still doesn't get it. Light is beginning to dawn on her mom's face though, and
she just eyes her daughter and smiles. Antonia just wears this puzzled
expression. I decide to buzz Eva. I tell her that I'm about to administer CP and
I need a witness. Antonia is becoming alarmed now, and says 'What is this?'

"I say 'In a moment Antonia you and I and your mother, if she wishes, and a
coworker who will witness this, will take a little walk down the hall to room
211.  There I will sit on a low padded bench and you will lift your dress and
place yourself across my knee for some much-needed correction. You will receive
a good spanking from me of 50 smacks on your bare backside with this', and I
pull the Sandal out of my drawer and plop it on the desk. She stares at it, eyes
wide, mouth hanging open. 'No..no...you can't do this to me.' Antonia turns to
her mom now, 'Can she mom? Can she really do this?' Mom just lifts her eyebrows
and shrugs and says, 'I think she can, dear. It's the law.'

Mom is tickled pink. She's probably tried everything with Antonia and nothing's
worked. Now we've got her attention. Then Eva arrives and the sight of this tall
stern-looking woman seems to intimidate Antonia even more. I tell Eva very
matter-of-factly that I'm going to administer a spanking to Antonia. Eva nods
and folds her arms. Antonia is licking her lips and squirming while I take my
time filling out the paperwork. I have Eva initial as a witness then say 'ok,
Antonia, lets go get this over with.'Antonia looks at mom and pleads, 'Mom, tell
her no--she can't do this to me!' Mom just shrugs and says 'Sorry, darling, I
think they can.' Antonia is wild-eyed and panicky now. She can't believe this is
happening.

We walk down the hall. This time I'm leading the little parade. Room 211 is
empty so we all go in. I sit down and tell Antonia to get herself right over my
knee. Her mother stops her and for a moment I think we are going to have a
problem, but her mother says, 'this is to be on her bare bottom, right?' We nod
and she says, 'alright then Antonia, take off that dress. I don't want it
wrinkled.' Antonia begs, 'please no', but mom is adamant. Antonia pulls the
dress off. Now she is in her bra and panties with a garter belt, no less--can
you believe it?--and hose. She must have thought she was going to lunch at the
country club instead of going to get her bottom tanned. I look at Antonia and
pat my thighs. Antonia looks beseechingly at mom and says, 'do I have to?'. Mom
says that she better do as I say. Antonia puts herself across my lap as I push
back against the support. I arrange her so that her hind end is over my right
leg. This way I can lift her little derriere up so I can get at it better. Eva
taught me this. Anyway I tell Antonia to lift up a little so I can skin her
panties down. Then I picked up the Sandal and started spanking 1...2...3, like
that. I think its better to spank with hard slow smacks rather than a fast
flurry. It gives the kid time to appreciate the build-up of the sting. Boy, did
she jiggle and squirm. Every time I brought that paddle down on her nude little
hiney, she would jerk and yelp. Actually her hiney wasn't so little. She was
nearly fully developed and had a nice full round cheeked behind. I just kept on
smacking at a steady pace while Eva kept count. She started pleading and crying
by smack number 10. Each cheek wobbled when I smacked it. Your butt doesn't
wobble as much, Rollin."


"Not as much fun , huh?"

"oh..you..anyway I must have taken 5 or 6 minutes to give little miss Antonia
her fanny warming and she was crying and pleading for mercy and for mommy to
make it stop by the end of it. And her bottom....it was beet red and probably
stung like anything. I think I did a good job of it even if I do say so myself."

"I know from experience you can do a 'good job'".

"Well, anyway, that's my day. How was yours?"

"Not as interesting as that yet, but I think it's about to get a lot more
interesting."

"What do you mean, Rollin."

"Do you smell that? While you were regaling me with tales of smacked bottoms,
the dinner was burning."

"Oh no!" wailed Karen. "The casserole!" And she ran to pull the smoking dish out
of the oven. "Now we have to go out," she said ruefully.

"Not just yet", I said, making a show of rolling up my sleeve. "Do you know the
traditional penalty for girlfriends who burn dinner just so their boyfriends
will take them out?"

"Now wait a minute, Rollin" said Karen, backing up," You're not going to..."

"Oh yes I am young lady. If I have to buy you dinner you'll have to sit on a
well warmed bottom to eat it," I said with a wicked gleam in my eye.

Then Karen cracked a smile and the chase was on. Karen was as giggly as a
schoolgirl caught up in the excitement of being pursued by a determined male.
Around the table, into the living room I chased her. She tried to make a dash
for the bathroom where she could lock the door, but as she ran out from behind
the couch I caught her and tucked her under my arm.

She wiggled and squirmed, "Put me down, put me down right now."

"Oh,no, milady, now its time for your comeuppance."

I carried her over to the dining room and pulled out a chair. Seating myself I
plopped her face down across my lap. She was still half laughing as I pulled up
her dress to reveal her sumptious behind clad in brief satin panties.

"Rollin don't you dare!" She shrieked.

"Oh, yes my love, I think this lovely fanny needs a good warming."

I rubbed my hand across the jiggling mounds, patting and kneading the ripe
globes. Then I started to spank. The feel of a wobbly bottom under one's hand as
it smacks from cheek to cheek is really quite delicious. Heat builds up in the
hand (as it must in the recipient's rear end) and there is a springy resilient
quality in the feel as palm meets bottom. Each cheek flattens when struck and a
cute little shock wave expands outwardly. Then the flesh springs back to its
original shape. After warming her panties a bit I felt it was time to get down
to business. She shrieked anew, still giddy, as I pulled the brief satin panties
to her knees. What a sight! Two very round and very bare pouting bottom cheeks
perched over my knee, ready for more attention! With her lovely rear now denuded
I could see a pink flush and some faint handprints. Another delightful rubbing
made her coo. I slipped my fingers into the slit between her legs. Her arousal
was evident. I started to spank again, slowly, each spank making a loud splat!
sound. She wailed in mock distress and kicked her lovely legs as I smacked from
cheek to cheek. The wobble of each fanny cheek as I smacked it was mesmerizing.
I kept on spanking, the pink flush becoming darker, now almost red. From time to
time I stopped to pat and rub. The spanks were only medium hard, I did not want
to hurt her, but I did want it to sting. I was caught up in the age old drama of
the conquering male applying loving dominance to his sweetheart and the
sweetheart was loving every minute of it. She moaned in exctasy when I found her
clitoris and massaged it. She rose up, arching her buttocks in time to meet my
descending hand. For my part I was now as hard as blue steel.

"Woman are you going to prattle on about bare fanny spankings while dinner
burns?" Smack! smack! whap! splat! spank!

"Oh, no, sir I promise...never again!"

Smack! "Because if you do, (smack!) you will find youself (smack! crack!) over
my knees for a good tanning! (Smack! whack! Crack!)

"Owwww.....yes sir! Is that a threat or a promise, sir?"

Smack! smack! smack!

"Ouch...ouch!"

"Dont be impudent, woman!"

Smack! smack!

"whewwwww!.....that stings, sir!"

I stopped. I held her across my lap, both of us out of breath. I tenderly lifted
her upright. She stood and ruefully rubbed her bright red buttocks.

"Well" I said, "That was hard work. Now I'm famished. Let's go out."

Karen's eyes got as big as saucers. She grabbed my belt and pulled me to her for
a long wet kiss once she realized that I was having her on.

"Not on your life, mister. You haven't even started to earn your supper yet!"

We never made it out to dinner.

CERTIFICATE OF CORRECTION  PT 4a--Aunt Linnea

"There are two young ladies here to see you, Rollin," chirped Jane over the
intercom. My secretary, Jane was new-- a slim, pretty, long legged brunette of
about 30. Like many slender girls she had slim hips, but had a pouty,
teardrop-shaped ass that very nicely filled the back of the tight short skirts
she favored, which, I had to admit sheepishly, had influenced my hiring
decision. She was bright and flirty and had this cute habit of referring to me
as "boss". I liked that.

 Ever since I had met Karen, my on again-- off again girlfriend, and had become
involved with her life as a juvie probation officer, I had become more involved
in the new laws permitting corporal punishment for various offenses. I had
actually witnessed corporal punishment being meted out at the Juvenile
Correction Center, and had listened to Karen's accounts of the less formal
punishments that she had given or witnessed as part of her job. Hell, I had even
"tested" the proficiency of the spanking implement she was authorized to use. It
had been fun to test it on her, less fun for me to be the test subject, but I
had to admit, when proceedings moved to the bedroom even that part had been
worth it.

So now two girls were in my lobby? Who could this be? I didn't have any
appointments and in fact I was looking forward to getting away early. I went out
to the lobby and, lo and behold, there was Erin, a niece whom I hadn't seen in
years, and with her was another girl. She was about Erin's age which had to be
about 18 by now (I did some quick calculating) and gorgeous. About 5'6", long
silky blonde hair in a Jennifer Anniston 'do, about 120 lbs and a shape to make
heads turn, she stood in contrast to petite Erin who barely topped 5'. She had
large green eyes and a look of girl-next-door wholesomeness that belied the
devastating sex appeal of her face and curvy figure. Erin was very attractive
herself and was decidedly cute. She had filled out nicely since I had seen her
last, which was very noticable given the tight slacks she was wearing. But then
she had always had a cute butt.

"Hi Uncle Rollin!" squealed Erin and grabbed me with a big hug. Erin had been
one of my favorite kids. When she had been a little girl I had baby-sat on
occasion and I had always given her something big and splashy at Christmas time.
"Rollin, this is my friend Allison. She came with me on our trip."

Allison tossed her head, smoothed her hair and said "Hi" in a throaty voice and
gave me a shy smile. Any man better watch that one, I thought.

"Erin you look great, cute as ever, but what brings you here?"

"Oh Uncle Rollin, I don't know, we may be in trouble. See-- we were on this trip
to St John's in the islands and we left to come home but one of our friends is
stuck there. We left in time but she's, well, stuck."

"What do you mean, stuck? And what were you doing vacationing? It's not spring
break is it?"

"Well," said Erin nervously and twisting her hands, " We sort of skipped out
with these guys...it was only supposed to be a weekend...but we got stranded.
But our friend, Susan...I think she's in jail."

"In jail? Erin, whatever for?" Now I was puzzled.

"Ah....I...er think its for drugs. It was in St Johns." Erin hung her head. She
avoided my eyes.

"Drugs? What kind of drugs. What were you into?" I felt a chill at the base of
my spine. Jesus! St John's of all places.

"Not much really...it was just a little. You know, some pot we bought from this
guy...it was just to try it....everybody was doing it. We didn't even know it
was illegal."

Oh brother. This was not good. St John's was a Carribean island, a British
protectorate, and very conservative, even regressive, some would say. It was a
beautiful place, but they took a dim view of drug use. As a result it wasn't
that popular with kids. Mostly older tourists went there because it was quieter.
Like many jurisdictions in the early years of the new century, St John's had
reinstituted corporal punishment for various offenses, but other than that I had
heard nothing about this out of the way place. Years ago before the new CP laws,
I had heard about prison terms for kids on vacation who got involved with drugs
thinking it was ok because the locals did it. Wrong. I guess it was good that
they got out when they did.

Then there was Aunt Linnea, a distant and somewhat eccentric aunt and family
tartar who had taken in Erin when my brother died. An old school no nonsense
aunt, she didn't brook much in the way of misconduct. She was paying for Erin to
go to school in Virginia at UVA and would not be happy to hear that her freshman
charge had taken the opportunity to skip out on a lark and head for the islands
with some boys.

"You know we are going to have to call Aunt Linnea," I ventured.

"Ooh, yes I know Uncle Rollin. Geez, she will be pissed. I know I'm in big
trouble."

"Well, no use putting it off, we'd better call her. How about your parents,
Allison?"

"You could call them, Mr Hand, but they won't care. Mother is wrapped up in her
country club stuff and Daddy is off to Europe on some business deal. They'll
just try and throw money at the problem to fix it. It's the way they are with
everything." She seemed disappointed that there was nobody interested in even
chewing her out.

"Hmm. I guess you know your folks, Allison." Poor little rich girl? I thought.
"Anyway, Erin--lets get this over with. I'll have Jane get Linnea on the line."

I tilted the phone monitor toward Erin so that the minicam pointed at her. Now
all three of us were in its field of view. The imposing visage of Aunt Linnea
came into view. In her early 50's, Linnea was a hardy and robust woman. She
owned and still worked the farm in upstate NY where Erin had lived while going
to high school. Her blonde hair was tied in a bun she was dressed in jeans and a
flannel shirt.  "Hello, Rollin, nice to hear from you. Erin, what are you doing
there? You are supposed to be at school. Who is your friend? What is going on?"

Erin told her.

A frown began to settle in on Aunt Linnea's features and her eyes narrowed as
Erin spilled out the story.

"And honest Aunt Linnea, it was just supposed to be a weekend and we were going
to be back but we got stranded and..."

"Young lady, you are not supposed to be there at all. How irresponsible and
dangerous to boot! What am I to do with you, girl? If I had snuck out of school
for a jaunt like this, my father would have worn out my little fanny with his
belt. What were you thinking of? And you young lady, what's your name?"

"Allison, ma'am."

"Allison you're just as irresponsible. Both of you girls should be due for a
damn good hide tanning. Imagine! I just can't believe this!"

"I'll...I'll come home right away Aunt Linnea. I'm sorry. We came here because
our friend is in trouble. I thought Uncle Rollin could help."

"No, no, don't come home. You need to be back at school." She thought for a
moment. "I'm really angry at you Erin and you need to be punished. I've half a
mind to come there myself. You know, if you were here, you and I would be making
that long walk out to the tack room in the  barn...where the harness strap is,"
she added meaningfully. She folded her arms, glaring at Erin, obviously
considering what to do. Addressing me she asked, " Rollin what is the penalty
for truancy there where you are?"

I cleared my throat and looked at Erin then back at the screen. "Well, for
habitual truancy if you are under 18 its a trip to the correction center and you
would have to get a Certificate."

"A Certificate from the correction center? Hmmm....what happens there?"

"Ah...they generally have a lecture or a video specific to the offense, that
they make the offenders watch, then..."

"A lecture? A video? Is that it?"

"No, let me finish...then the offender gets corporal punishment...actually a
spanking in a group with other offenders. And for truancy I think it's also some
licks with a paddle."

"Now that's more like it. Ok, here is what you do. Take Erin down there and sign
her up for the full treatment. She needs a right smart whipping and..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Linnea. I can't do that. You can't just march your kid down
there and say 'punish her for me'. She hasn't committed any crime in Ohio. And
besides, she's over 18."

"Well she's acting like she was 15. Skipping school. The very idea. When she was
15 she pulled a stunt like this and I thought she'd never forget it. You
remember, don't you Erin? We took a trip out to the barn then, didn't we?"

"Yes, Aunt Linnea, I do," said Erin miserably. "You gave me good licking with a
harness strap. It hurt like anything."

"Hmm...but it didn't make a big enough impression I see. I'll have to think
about what to do with you....wait, I know. Rollin, do you still date that
corrections officer? What's her name?"

"Karen. Yes, I still see Karen." You couldn't keep a secret in this family. As
the last batchelor, word of any relationship was duly noted and closely watched.

"Then here is my solution. Erin needs to get back to school, pronto. She also
needs to be taught a good lesson for this little fiasco. I will help her out of
any lingering trouble down there and I'm hiring you to do it, Rollin, but I want
you to ask Karen to punish Erin privately, just like a truant in your
jurisdiction...whatever they get. Will she do that, off the record, so to
speak?"

"Ah, well, I don't know, I mean, Erin how do you feel about this?" Even as Erin
opened her mouth, Linnea cut in. "It doesn't matter how SHE feels about it,
Rollin. She needs to be punished for this. Its either that or she can forget
about returning to school for awhile."

Erin spoke up, trying to be plucky. "It's OK Uncle Rollin." But actually she
sounded miserable. I knew that feeling. She obviously felt guilty as sin." I
know I deserve to be punished. I'll...I'll... take what's coming to me. But I'm
so worried about Susan. Aunt Linnea, please, if I take my punishment from Uncle
Rollin, will you let us help Susan?"

"I suppose, child, but first I want Rollin's friend to give you a damn good
hiding-- just like you were a high school truancy case."

Now I had to speak up. "Ah, Linnea, Karen is not here now, she's in California
with her mother, and anyway, I don't know that I could ask her to do this."
Linnea mulled this over for a minute.

"Well, Rollin, I guess that means you'll have to do it yourself. I know Erin is
your favorite niece, but if you love her, you'll be my 'right arm' for me and
give her the discipline she needs. A good licking from a male authority figure
will do her a world of good."

Erin looked at me, and her face fell. Then she took a breath, gathered herself
and said to me, "It's OK Uncle Rollin. I'd rather be punished by you anyway than
some stranger."

"Fine," said Linnea, "that's settled then. Rollin take Erin home with you and
call me later. Can you set up the minicam on your phone so that I can witness
the proceedings?"

"Uh...yes, I think so."

"What!?" Interjected Erin. "You mean you want to watch Uncle Rollin punish me?"

"Why of course child, you don't think I'd just leave it up to the two of you.
You'd twist him around your little finger and have him thinking he was killing
you. Oh, no, I'm going to be right there and make sure the job is done
properly."

"Now wait a minute, Linnea..." I was indignant. How dare she impugn my resolve
to do this right! I could mete out sufficiently severe and just correction to
Erin, no problem... cute little Erin, my favorite niece...Ok, ok, she had a
point.

"I'm sorry Rollin. I don't mean to doubt your good intentions, but we do this my
way. Can we do this tonight?"

"It might be better tommorrow, Linnea. Erin might need time to think about it,
and I may need to... ah...get some things." I was thinking about a suitable
punishment implement. I didn't have a collection of paddles just lying around.

"I agree. She should have some time to reflect upon her upcoming chastisement. I
know it really put me in the right frame of mind to receive a correction when I
knew it was coming and I had time to think about it. So ok, 8pm tommorrow
night?"

"Yes, we'll call you when we are set up and ready."

"Oh and Rollin. I think this girl should get a sound paddling so I want you to
make sure you have a real punishment paddle, not some toy, understand?"

"Ive seen what they do at the correctional center Linnea. I'll get the
right...er, implement."

Linnea hung up and the screen went blank. There was a nervous silence. Erin's
face was crestfallen. She probably couldn't believe this was happening.

"Whew, Erin you really did it, kid."

"Oh, Uncle Rollin, I just feel so bad...mainly for Susan. After you...you know
paddle me or whatever, promise you'll help."

"I'll do what I can. I have a friend down there. I'll call him. Meanwhile here's
cab fare. Go to my house and cool it for awhile. I'll be home soon and we'll see
about going out. Even the condemnned gets a last meal, right?" I tried to say
this with a smile.

Erin nodded glumly, then brightened up. "Thanks, Uncle Rollin, you're the best.
Really."

"I hope you can say that by 8:30 tommorrow night, sweetheart."

Erin gave a little wince at this last remark and put her hands on her hind end
protectively as if in anticipation of the next night's activities. And I
couldn't help but notice the way her cute butt wiggled in those tight slacks as
she walked out. I also noticed that Allison had seemed excited, hanging on every
word of the exchange between me and Linnea. And last but not least was the rear
view of Allison's sumptuous ass filling out and swelling the back of the short
dress she was wearing. Now there's a behind made for spanking, I thought.

When the girls left, Jane came in. "Wow, boss, are you really going to give that
cute little thing a spanking?"

"What, you were listening in? Maybe you deserve what she's going to get." OOps.
I was joking but I knew I shouldn't have said that. But Jane surprised me by
saying with a laugh, "I probably do, but go easy on me willya?" Then she gave me
another start when she peered over her shoulder and patted her butt and said,
"On the other hand with all I've got back here, maybe you should just plop me
over your knees and whale away. It'll make me be a good girl. I promise." She
said this with a mischievous gleam in her eye. She was slim but the cheeks of
her behind swelled the tight confines of her skirt.

I could play along too. "Later, I'm too tired now."

"Pooh! That's what they all say," said Jane with a pout.

"Seriously, though, I'm going to have to paddle this kid's caboose tommorrow
night. Karen's out of town and we've sort been on the outs lately anyway so...
how should I proceed?"

"You don't know how to give a girl a spanking? You just flip her over your knee,
pull her pants down and smack her fanny til she's sorry and blubbering and her
mascara's a mess."

"Hmmm...I'm afraid it has to be a bit more formal than that. Aunt Linnea wants
me to duplicate a "Certificate" punishment...with a paddle."

"So what's the problem?"

"Two things. One I don't have a Juvenile Correction paddle and Two, I may need
to set up a portable minicam link to the phone and someone may have to hold it."

Jane put her finger to her mouth reflectively, sort of cocking her head,
thinking. "I volunteer, boss. I've got an old sorority paddle, and I'll be glad
to come over and hold the camera."

The thought of Jane on the other end of that sorority paddle was intriguing. And
I could use some help if not the moral support of another adult.

"How big is the sorority paddle? I mean I've seen some that look like a 2 by 4.
In the correction center they use a synthetic that's kind of thin and has holes
in it."

"You're thinking of the ceremonial paddles with all the insignia that people
hang on their walls. Those things are 2 feet long and 3/4" thick. No, mine is
most definitely a "working" paddle. It's 18" long, counting a 6" grip, it's
maple or something, and it's about, oh, 3/8" thick and 4" wide. It looks sort of
small but it packs quite a wallop. Stings first--then burns like fire, I can
tell you. Mine is "signed" by all my sorority sisters, and for every signature I
got at least one lick---wearing nothing but panties at the time. Let me tell
you--15 firm swats with this and your niece will never miss school again."

This sounded about right. I didn't want something that would bruise or be so
heavy as to be unwieldy. And it needed to be a real punishment that would
satisfy Linnea. And last but not least, I was kind of ticked at Erin for being
so flighty and irresponsible. In truth she deserved a "good country lickin'" as
Linnea would say. It would get the message across without killing her. For her
it would be a memorable experience.

"Ok, I'd appreciate some help. Why don't you just come over at about 7:30 to my
place and we'll get things set up?"

"You got it boss, anything else?"

"Yeah come to think of it---I'm thinking out loud-- but the spanking part of a
Center punishment is done with a kind of leather smacker--it's about 100 smacks
with that prior to the formal paddling. I don't have anything like that. Karen
has one, though. But it's probably at her office, although I think at one time
it was at my place..."

Jane jumped right in on that one. "Oh, it was, was it? And pray tell what was
Karen's smacker doing at your place?"

My blush gave me away. All I got was a smirk and raised eyebrows when I said she
had brought it just to show it to me.

"What else did she show you?" Jane said impudently, then she blushed. "Sorry
boss, sometimes I just get carried away. But anyway what is this thing like?"

"It's sort of like a leather sole with a rubber facing. They call it a
'sandal'."

"Oh I don't know," said Jane, "if you have to give her a spanking too, why not
just use your hand? It'll sting just as much and you won't overdo it. I know
from experience that a sturdy male palm connecting with a female fanny can
generate plenty of heat for the seat. The main thing is to make it a humbling
experience. No girl can feel very adult when she's face down bottoms up over a
man's lap. She acted childishly should be punished accordingly."

"From experience, eh? You know this?"

"And I'm not telling....well not now, anyway, but trust me, 100 smacks from the
palm of your hand and her little hiney will be dancing. And she'll really feel
the paddle then."

I said ok to this thinking that punishing Erin with just my hand would be severe
enough. That and the paddle swats should mollify Linnea.

********************************************************************

Certificate of Correction Part 4b--Aunt Linnea, con't

I came home later and decided to take the girls out. They were kind of subdued.
I tried to be cheerful but I understood Erin's mood. It would be a painful and
humiliating experience for her tommorrow night. Halfway through dinner she spoke
up.

"Are you going to spank me very hard, Uncle Rollin?"

"You know if I don't Linnea won't be satisfied. Sorry kiddo, I've got to make it
real---for your sake. You do want to go back to school, right?"

"Yes, I do." And she nodded at Allison, who took a deep breath and spoke.

"I'm glad you said that Mr Hand--I mean that you were going to make this a real
punishment."

"You do? You want to see Erin get punished?"

"No, sir. I want you to punish me too. Just like Erin. Whatever she gets."

I almost dropped my fork. There was dead silence for a moment. I leaned forward.
"Allison, do you know what you are saying? I am going to have to give Erin an
old fashioned bare butt spanking, followed by swats with a wooden paddle. It
will hurt. Spankings hurt and they are very undignified."

"What!?" Exclaimed Erin. "Bare butt??  Ohh...No. I'll die from embarassment.
Please let us keep something on. I know! we'll wear our bikinis. You can spank
us in those, please?"

I turned to Erin. "Sorry Erin, but the procedure calls for bare bottom. Linnea
knows that by now and if she doesn't she will insist on it anyway. When you got
it with the strap in the barn did she let you keep your panties on?"

Erin's blush told me the answer.

I turned back to Allison.

"This is a very unusual request, Allison. You are asking me to turn you across
my knee like a 12-year old, take your pants down and spank you hard, right on
the bare fanny. After that you'll get licks with a wooden paddle and they won't
be light taps."

Allison's face flushed and she said haltingly,


"I know, Mr Hand, and I've talked to Erin about it. But I am prepared to endure
it. We are in this together. Maybe if someone had taken the trouble to
discipline me, I wouldn't have done this, but I did and I feel guilty about it.
Only with me, nobody will care. I don't have anybody like you or Aunt Linnea. So
I'm prepared to take my licks, sir, along with Erin." A regular Joan of Arc, I
thought. "Well, I admire your courage, Allison. Erin are you OK with this?"

"We talked about it, Uncle Rollin. It's OK. But ah...how are you going to... do
it?"

"Well, Erin, Linnea wants it to be like a correctional center punishment. On the
day for punishment, the kids have to report to the center and they are taken to
a room where they have to strip down to their underwear. Then they are escorted
into the punishment chamber and sit in chairs facing a stage. Then in pairs
their names are called and each pair is put over the lap of a wardess on a
special bench. The wardesses pull their pants down and gives them a good hard
spanking for 2 or 3 minutes--4 if they have done something really serious. After
that they each come up one at a time and get a whipping with a flexible rod or
licks with a paddle--depends on the crime."

Erin and Allison grimaced and looked at each other. Then Allison said, "Whew!
that sounds severe." She licked her lips. I could swear that there was
excitement in her voice. "Is it boys and girls getting it together? And they are
bare--their bottoms I mean--really bare?"

"Yes. Nobody's modesty is preserved. The theory is that it reduces all that
criminal bravado. No kid can feel like an adult getting his or her bottom
smacked like a child. The shame more than anything else makes them wish to avoid
the experience."

Then Allison pulled back and said with calm resolve, "I guess then we'll just
have to grin and bear it."  Erin snickered. "Don't you mean 'bare' it? Uncle
Rollin's going to see everything we've got."

"Ok, girls that's enough. Let's talk about something more pleasant. Tell me
about the islands...."

****************************************************************************** I
left the girls alone the following day while I ran some errands. All day I kept
thinking about the evening. I had never given Karen a purely disciplinary
punishment. Underlying our games had been a core eroticism. We knew that the
play spankings were not to be real punishments and that they would lead
invariably to the bedroom. Tonight was going to be different. I was going to
have to spank Erin for real to satisfy Linnea--no play paddywhacking there--and
to be fair I was going to have to give Allison the same. I had to admit,though,
I felt a stirring in my groin at the prospect. Allison was a dish.

I couldn't read Allison--she seemed excited and fearful at the same time. My
guess is that she sensed that something had been missing in her life and that
she was determined to get it. But was there something sexual going on too? That
wouldn't surprise me.

I came home and the girls were in the kitchen sitting at the table having
coffee. I said hi and looked at the clock. It was 7:00 pm. I knew I had better
set up. The phone with its attached camera and vid screen was in the den, so I
took a sturdy armless chair from the dining room into the den where I placed it
in the middle of the room and turned the phone around so that the chair was
straight on in the field of view. I figured I'd better dig out the portable
minicam attachment as well since there was no telling what angle Linnea might
want.

At 7:30 Jane showed up. The girls said sheepish hello (I had told them she was
coming and why). Jane tried to be cheerful about it ("Hey, nobody ever died from
a spanking" and "I used to get it all the time" or "You should have been in my
sorority") but Erin and Allison just grimaced nervously as she chattered. Then
their eyes got big as Jane pulled her sorority paddle out of a bag.

"Is this what you have to spank us with Uncle Rollin?" said a wild-eyed Erin.

"Let me see that, please?" Said Allison and she took it and smacked it against
her palm. "Ouch! Ooh, that really stings. Our bottoms are going to feel that for
sure, Erin." She almost seemed excited at the prospect.

 Erin just eyed the paddle with a look of dread. "Er...how many do you have to
give us Uncle Rollin?"

"I think its got to be 10, girls, that is the penalty for chronic truancy and
that's what Linnea wants."

The girls looked at each other. Their expressions said Uh-oh as each handled the
paddle. "Each name signed on that paddle was paid for with at least one swat to
my panty-covered rear," chimed in Jane, "and there are 26 names there." "Wow..."
said both girls, almost in unison. I cleared my throat to get their attention.

"Look, girls, I think you had better change. I want to be ready when Linnea
calls. Go upstairs and take off everything but your underwear. If you have beach
robes you can wear them until it's time...."

The girls shuffled out. I offered Jane a drink, and made one for me. A double.

"Dutch courage, boss?"

"I may need some."

"There's going to be a lot of squealing and crying here in a few minutes. They
will plead and beg....anything to get you to stop...I know."

"I know too. I've seen this you know." Jane just gave me a cool appraising
glance with a hint of a smile.

The creaking of the stairs signalled the girls' return. Both wore short beach
robes revealing nicely formed legs. I presumed that under the beach robes was
bra and panties. We waited, looking at the clock. At 8:00 I dialed up Linnea. I
switched on the vidphone monitor and Linnea's image appeared. Her voice crackled
from the receiver.

"Hello Rollin, Erin. I see you appear to be ready. You are ready to proceed with
Erin's correction, right Rollin?"

"Ah yes Linnea. My secretary Miss Jane Hynde is here to assist me and act as a
witness. Also, this may seem a little unusual, but Erin's friend Allison Has
requested that she be included in these...ah...proceedings. She wishes to be
given the same punishment as Erin. We would appreciate your witnessing her
chastisement as well."

Linnea blinked, her mouth open. "I must say that is unusual, but if that is what
she wants, I'll witness it--and may I say, honey, that is courageous, but you
probably know you do deserve a good hiding just like Erin is going to get."

"Yes, ma'am. I know I do. Erin can't take all the blame. We both agreed to go.
We encouraged each other."

"Very well. Rollin tell me what you are going to do."

"Linnea, you asked what a truant would get here. The penalty under the
Certificate of Correction option is a good spanking of 2-3 minutes duration
followed by 10 licks with a disciplinary paddle. Jane has brought along her old
sorority paddle which she assures me is a solid disciplinary implement. The
spankings are usually given by a matron with a rubber coated leather sole. I
don't have one so I'll just use my hand. I propose to give each of them 100
spanks in lieu of a timed spanking, but that's about what it works out to
anyway. Ok so far?"

Linnea nodded.

"Underneath those robes the girls have only underwear. Correctional Center
punishments are given on the bare buttocks so the panties will come down."

"This is acceptable Rollin." Looking at Erin she said, "Erin I hate to have to
order this punishment for you, but this was a childish act. I thought you had a
better head on your shoulders. Never pull a stunt like this again, understand?"

Erin nodded miserably. Now that the time had come, she looked frightened and
about to cry. Allison held her head up, seemingly determined to accept her
licking with some sense of dignity and grace.

As I sat down in the chair facing the screen, I said, "can you see, Linnea?"

"I can see fine. Proceed."

"Erin, remove your robe and come here." Erin shucked her robe revealing her
tight little figure clad now only in silky lavender bra and panties. She moved
to face me. I put my hands on her hips and guided her to my right side. "Place
yourself over my knees." She put her hands on my thighs and eased herself face
down on my lap. I pulled her forward a little bit so that her pelvis rested
right on top of my right leg which positioned her ass nicely. I placed my hand
in the elastic of her panties and told her to lift up a little. As she did I
slid the panties down to her knees revealing her cutely rounded bare bottom. Her
legs were tanned but her buns were still white.

"Here we go Erin. 100 spanks with my hand. Keep your hands on the floor. Do not
reach back." I heard a soft, "Yes, Uncle Rollin."

Smack! I spanked her left cheek. Smack! Right cheek. Two red handprints
appeared. Smack! Smack! Whap! Smack! Crack! Smack! She gasped as solid smacks
rang out. Her body gave a little jerk with each one. I hit her hard enough to
make each cheek flatten out momentarily, then spring back into shape.

"Jane, keep count. That's 8." "Right, boss."

Then I started to spank in earnest. I settled into a steady rhythm where I
delivered about a spank every two seconds. I covered her little bottom,
alternating sides and spreading the smacks around. She tried to be still but
started to wriggle after 20. At 40 she started yelping--little "ouches" and
hissing intakes of breath. I couldn't let up, so if anything started putting a
little more force behind each loud smack. This prompted her to wiggle and writhe
across my lap, and she got more vocal as well. Her legs started to scissor up
and down. Smack! "Ouch...Uncle Rollin, please!" Smack! "I'll never do it again!"
Smack! "Ow! I'm sorrryyy!" Smack! Whap! Smack! She hammered her fists against
the floor. She kicked and squealed shamelessly. I kept right on spanking her
with hard deliberate smacks. The white cottontail fanny turned a bright red
under the onslaught. I heard Jane say, "Thats 90, boss." Ok, so 10 more. I
paused and gave her the last 10 slower and a shade harder than the rest. I
wanted to make each one count. Judging by her cries and frantic wriggles, they
did. Smack! 99. Smack! 100. I stopped and rested my palm on her butt. It was
hot. So was my hand. Erin was sobbing.

I let her up. She rose slowly and her hands went to massage her burning fanny
cheeks. Tears streamed down her face. Well, I had to make it hurt, otherwise
there was no point and Linnea would want me to do it over.

"Ok, Erin pull your pants up and stand over there."

"Wait," said Linnea. "Erin, stop, turn around. Take your pants down so I can
see." Sniffling, Erin complied, displaying her red sit spot for the camera.
"Ok," said Linnea, apparantly satisfied, "Go do what your uncle told you."

As Erin tugged her panties back up I turned to Allison and said: " Allison, it's
your turn now. Come here." Allison meekly said "Yes, sir" and stood to my right.
Without being told she hooked her thumbs in the elastic of her panties and
pulled them down. Then she laid herself across my lap. Her bottom was larger and
proportionately fuller than Erin's. The jouncy cheeks swelled as she positioned
herself over my knee. As I patted her creamy mounds I noted that they also
seemed softer, more resilient as well. She hadn't tanned as much as Erin so she
was mostly white. "Are you ready, Allison, and are you sure you want this?"

"Yes, sir, please go ahead, spank me hard, just like Erin," she whispered,
almost breathlessly. So I did. My palm went Splat! Splat! Whap! Smack! I
alternated cheeks. I swatted her across the deep crevice of her ass right in the
center. I spanked in flurries and I spanked with deliberate spaced apart smacks.
In short, I gave her what was probably the tanning of her life-- the tanning she
had obviously missed all of years growing up. She wriggled and gasped and the
quivering mounds of luscious bottom bounded under my smacking palm. I had more
flesh to spank and did my best to spread the smacks around. Her ass wobbled, a
fleshy shock wave generated each time my palm struck. But each time the fatty
rounds sprang back into shape to await the next spank. She tried to hold it in
and not cry out, but under the relentless barrage of smacks she fluttered her
legs as best she could, and finally broke down with a long drawn out
"wwwwaaaahhhhh!" in response to my smacking hand. Nevertheless, I could not help
but notice the glistening dew that formed on the lips of her vulva and in her
thrashing and writhing it almost seemed as if she were timing the bucking of her
hips to meet the spanks. By the time I had administered her 100 spanks she had
surrendered, moaning, her body limp, sprawled across my thighs. I helped her up.
She stood, her face a mask of suffering, but she stammered out a "thank you"
even as she tried to rub the sting out of her inflamed cheeks.

I stood and moved the chair out of the way. "Sorry girls," I said, "we're not
done yet."

Erin pleaded. "Please can we wait just a minute?" she tearfully entreated.

"I'll give you about a minute, Erin. But we need to finish this now. You and
Allison stand here where the chair was. Put enough space between yourselves so
that I can get to your side. That's right, Allison," I said as she moved to the
side. Both girls were stepping from foot to foot, trying to rub the sting away.
"Now turn around so that your rear is toward the monitor." Turning to address
Linnea I said, "Is this the angle you want?"

"Put them angled more to the side, I think," said Linnea. We fussed with
positioning for a few moments until Linnea was apparantly satisfied. Then she
spoke. "Rollin, go ahead. Girls those seats of yours have been well warmed up
but this is the real thing. Erin, you will stand still and take this paddling,
understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Linnea," said a tearful and contrite Erin.

"Ok girls, pants down again--hands on your knees--hollow your backs, that's
right stick your fannies out. This is just the way I had to assume the position
when I got it as a young girl. And don't get up. Rollin, if they move out of
position, that one doesn't count."

I nodded and picked up the paddle. "Ok, girls, 10 swats each. I'll alternate
between the two of you."

I moved to Erin's right side and lined the paddle up. I pressed the wood against
her cheeks, drew back and brought my arm around with a deft flick of my wrist.
SMACK! Right across the crowns of her bottomcheeks. "Yeowwww!" screeched Erin.
Her feet danced up and down. "Ah...ah...yah..." she sputtered. I moved past her
to Allison's right side, took my stance and...SMACK! The gorgeous fanny wobbled
with the searing impact of the paddle and Allison yelped. Back to Erin. She was
trembling. SMACK! Another hard lick to her flaming fanny. "Owww! Owww! please
not so hard!" she blubbed. I walked over to Allison. SMACK!
"Yeouch...oh...oh...ow...that stings!" Two down for each. Eight to go. SMACK!
"owwww!" 3 for Erin. SWAT! "Ouch...oohh." Allison's third. Both bottoms sported
dark red bands now from imprints of the paddle. Back to Erin. "Please Uncle
Rollin, not so SMACK! hard ow..ow..ow" She was frantically trying to stay down.
SMACK! "Ouch..oh...that stings! whew!" She wriggled her fanny in a rotating
motion. It probably didn't help. CRACK! One more for Erin. SMACK! Another lick
to Allison's jiggling seat. As the paddle smacks continued so did the abject
wailing of the two delinquents. I was delivering the swats firmly, not brutally.
Each smack was given flat across both rear cheeks with more wrist than arm.
Still I could tell that the level of distress was rising almost exponentially
with each solid whap of the paddle. SMACK! "yeowww...oh ..oh" wailed Erin at
number 8. WHAP! "Ah....please...not so hard..I...can't.." entreated Allison
tearfully. Feet stamped on the floor and they involuntarily wiggled their butts
in a fiery dance of pain.

"Two more girls. Be brave." SMACK! I smacked Erin's butt hard, down low.
"owwww!" SMACK! Another blistering crack to Allison's wobbling fanny. She
struggled to stay bent over. "Aiii...Owwww!" "That's 9. Now last one." SMACK!
"eouchhh...I won't do it again!" CRACK! "Owwwww....I'm sorrrryyyy!"

"That's it girls. You can stand up now."

Both girls stood, rubbing their well-reddenned posteriors. Tears were flowing
freely. It had been a sound punishment. Sitting would be uncomfortable for
awhile.

Linnea addressed the girls. " I hope you both have learned a lesson now. By the
way, Rollin, thank you for handling this. You've done your duty. Erin, I want
you to thank Rollin for chastising you. Thanks to him you won't have to come
home now and we won't have to take that walk out to the barn. You are forgiven
for this little escapade, but I think you know what will happen if you ever pull
something like this again."

"Yes Aunt Linnea." Turning to me she said, "Thank you correcting me Uncle
Rollin."

"It's Ok, sweetheart. No hard feelings?"

"No hard feelings, Uncle Rollin." Then she added with a wry grin, "just a very
hot bottom." Allison nodded vigorously.

"Well that's it then. Erin, you get yourself back to school pronto. Rollin, call
me on Monday."

"Yes Aunt Linnea," we all chimed. The screen went blank.

"Ok, girls go get dressed." As I said that Allison put her arms around me and
gave me a hug. "Thank you for punishing me as I deserved." Then she kissed me
full on the mouth and I could swear she ground her pelvic mound against me as
she did so, but because of the angle I don't think Erin or Jane saw it. Jane
offered to take the girls upstairs and put some cold cream on their flaming
nates. Later we ordered delivery pizza. We all ate standing up. Later, Erin
reminded me that I had promised to help Susan.

Certificate of Correction  Pt 5--Jane's Turn

On Monday I didn't waste any time. I contacted Harriet Reeves, a law school
classmate of mine. And a friend. I had heard from someone that she had actually
moved to St John's and set up a practice there. We had almost had a thing going
once, but I was young and carefree and I guess I wasn't ready for the type of
commitment she wanted. Chalk it up to bad timing. So she had become engaged to
Frank, another law student. I hadn't seen or spoken to her in years, but she was
glad to hear from me.

"Rollin, wow, what brings you to these parts? Getting tired of all that Ohio
Valley winter weather? Come on down!" Hearing Harriet's voice brought back sweet
memories and made me wonder what the hell I had been thinking to let her get
away? A real sweetheart. Too bad she had to go and marry Frank.

"God, Harriet, you sound great. Island life must be treating you well."

We caught up with each other for awhile. I was surprised to hear that Frank was
out of the picture. "Frank was never here. I came down here after the divorce.
This place isn't cosmopolitan enough for Frank." We caught up some more before I
got around to telling him what the problem was.

"Whew! That's not a good situation. I'll see what your niece's friend was
charged with exactly, but I must tell you that they come down on drug use very
hard here. Stuff that would get you a slap on the wrist in the states will get
you some serious time here. I'll call you back."

Well I didn't know if drugs would get you just a slap on the wrist around
here--it might get you lots of slaps somewhere else, though. I dug into office
work as I waited for Harry to call back. Jane was her usual chipper self this
morning, but I began to notice, as my drafts came back, a lot of errors. I began
to get annoyed. Then she switched letters, putting one to the client in the
envelope addressed to my opposing counsel and vice versa. What the hell....?

"Jane, can you come in here?"

"Right away boss." Jane strolled in notebook in hand. I noted the sexy librarian
look--hair in a bun, white blouse, dark tight, and very short, skirt. She looked
flustered.

"Jane what is this? Your work today has been sloppy as hell and we almost had a
disaster with this switched letter." Jane stood there twisting her hands like a
schoolgirl in the principal's office. "I'm sorry boss, I just can't concentrate
today."

"Well, you'd better start," I sad gruffly. "We can't have a screwup like you
almost made. I could be sued for malpractice! Pay attention to what you're
doing." I was sorry to have to bark at her like that, but I was peeved. She
hastily retreated and I noted the sexy wiggle of her rear--set into motion by
those 3" heels no doubt.

Then Harriet called back. "It's not good," she reported. "Your niece's friend,
one Susan Pemberton was arrested for possession with intent to distribute. The
penalty can be up to 3 years in jail."

"How can this be? Erin told me they only had an ounce of pot each."

"Yeah, well, that's the rub. When your niece and her friend left, they left
their stuff with Susan, so when she was nabbed the total stash was presumed to
be hers. Anything over one ounce, they presume you're going to sell some, so
they charged her with a distribution rap."

"You mean to tell me that if all three of these girls had been caught at the
same time that the charge would be possession only?"

"Yep. And the sentence doesn't involve jail time---although it's not very
pleasant. See, St John's has a CP law like a few of the states. For some minor
crimes the penalty is a flogging, then release."

"A flogging? How do they do it?"

"When St Johns put this law in place they decided to make the whipping an old
world punishment. So they went back to the English tradition. Men get what is
called "upper discipline" which is a lashing at a whipping post with a
cat-o-nine-tails delivered on the back. Women get "lower discipline" which is a
birching like the kind used oh--I don't know, way back when--in the days of Moll
Flanders or something. I know they had something like this on some British isles
until the 50's. They use a bunch of switches bound together and the strokes are
applied to the ..er...bottom...which is quite bare at the time."

Yeouch! A bundle of switches. "How many do they get? Strokes I mean."

"For drug possession like this, 2 or 3 dozen. There is some discretion on the
part of the court. I've been told it is very painful and the weals take time to
heal. But they did make one change. The implements that are used are lighter by
design so that there is less trauma to the skin. You may have heard that the old
Isle Of Man birch was a pretty fearsome scourge, and I've heard it was. So they
rejected that and opted for a lighter thinner birch, but proportionately
increased the number of strokes so that the pain of the punishment was pretty
intense. And it lasts longer. I've one client who was birched. She said that the
sting was really intense, burning. But she was ok afterwards. This woman Susan,
how old is she?"

I told Harriet she was 21. That was why the girls had gone with her. It was her
boyfriend who had the place down there--or his family did.  He told me that made
her an adult. The penalty was 3 years in jail. Also, I thought about this. If
the three of them had been equally responsible they would have been charged with
simple possession. They would have been flogged, but they could have walked,
with no jail time. For a young woman in her last year of college, the thought of
spending three years in jail must be pretty devastating. I suddenly had an idea
that came from some old movie I'd seen on cable.

"Harriet, has Susan gone to trial yet?"

"Er, no, it comes up soon though."

"What if Susan's two friends, Erin and Allison were to come back to St Johns,
admit responsibility, and testify that 2/3 of the pot was theirs?"

Harriet thought a minute. "They'd all be guilty of possession of less than an
ounce....I see where you are going, it might work. If that's the case they could
plead out. But do they know what they are getting into? If the prosecutor
accepts the plea, he will no doubt invoke the CP law. They would all have to
take floggings for the possession charges. Will they do that for their friend?"

"They might, but would they be subject to punishment as adults? These girls are
18."

"That puts them in a different category. Juveniles are treated more leniently."

That sounded better. "Like how much more leiniently?"

"Under 21, the strokes are given with the correctional strap and it's privately
done in a special room at the prison. Only the wardess actually giving the
strapping, the warden, the prisoner's attorney and a medical officer and guards
are allowed to be present. I had a couple of juvenile clients who got it, so I
know. I had to learn the procedure."

"What? Well what happens to adults?"

"Oh. That's outside in the prison courtyard. Every con with a window gets to see
it. As do all the prison personnel and any dignitary who cares to show up. There
is a scaffold with a whipping post in the middle of the yard. It's like Tyburn,
Lord Jeffries, the bloody assizes.... only without the gallows."

"Sounds intimidating."

"Yes, let me tell you," Harriet replied, "we've got some real law and order
types that really believe in this corporal punishment treatment. They justify it
by pointing to the fact that there is no permanent damage, the criminal gets
punished and they don't have to keep building jails."

So Susan would get birched in the yard and the two girls would receive the
strap. Erin wanted to help Susan. I wondered though in light of their experience
the past weekend, if friendship went that far. In a figurative sense, Erin might
have to take that walk out to the barn for a date with the harness strap after
all. I asked Harriet to talk to Susan in jail. She had no representation.
Harriet could also sound out the prosecutor about a possible deal. I would talk
to the girls who were due to go back to UVA tommorrow.

Then it was back to work. The next glitch that day was a motion I had to file.
Jane put the wrong court in the caption. Luckily I caught it, and told her
pointedly to fix it. I felt bad about growling at her, but the sloppiness was
driving me nuts. I was surprised when at the end of the day Jane knocked on my
door.

"Can I talk to you boss?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah come in. I won't bite your head off."

"I don't know what's wrong with me today," she started, " I can't seem to
concentrate. I'm really sorry."

"It's ok," I said, "everybody has days. You're forgiven. But just be more on the
ball, ok? Stuff like you did today can be embarassing at best and disasterous at
worst."

She drew herself up and took a deep breath. "Then I think you need to give me
something to help me remember to stay focused."

"I don't have any magic pills, Jane."

"I know, but there is something you need to do," she said mysteriously, and,
seeming to have made up her mind about something, walked resolutely out. I heard
her lock the outer door. Then I heard some clattering as Jane fumbled for
something in her desk drawer. When she returned she was holding an 18" ruler.

Holding out the ruler she took a deep breath. "If you want your secretary to
stop making stupid errors, you're going to have to correct her bad habits. I
suggest you use this." He took the ruler from her hand and she turned and bent
over, hands on knees, thrusting out a delectable bottom that strained against
the confines of the tight skirt.

I looked at the cute posterior and smacked the ruler in my hand while I asked,
"This is going to help you focus on the job?"

"Yes, Boss. I promise. This lady needs a good spanking to make her mind and pay
attention."

"Well, I do want to keep you...and I don't want a repeat of today...so I guess
I'll have to give you what you need."

"Oh, yes, boss--please...and don't hold back."

"Ok, Jane, but remember you asked for this," I said as I got up and walked
around the desk, hefting the ruler. It was really too light to be a serious
punishment tool. She wasn't going to feel this much--especially over the skirt,
thin as it was. But then, it was what she wanted. A little drama. The little
minx had engineered this. I should have seen it coming. The way she flirted with
me after overhearing the call to Linnea, her "volunteering" to witness the
punishment of the girls--and showing up with that paddle, the way she had
watched the girls getting it...oh yeah..I had noticed the hard nipples straining
the front of her blouse, and finally the repeated "mistakes" she had made today,
they all convinced me that this was a setup. There was this need deep inside.
And once she had seen me deal with the girls, she must have decided to pick me
as her designated disciplinarian. Not that I minded, but I was a bit ticked
about the way she gone about it. So I was going to give her her money's worth.

I got to her side and with my left arm encircled her waist. She gave what I
would describe as a delicious shudder as I tapped the ruler against the drum
taut posterior straining against her skirt. Then, Smack! Smack! Crack! I started
whipping the ruler down on the crowns of the proffered buttocks with firm steady
strokes. "OOh...ohh...ahhh..." Jane squeaked as the ruler splatted against her
hiney. The way Jane wiggled I knew the ruler stung through the thin skirt, which
was rayon or something. I could see the panty line of French cut panties in her
tight, bent over position. After about 20 cracks of the ruler I decided to
switch gears and get serious. Jane rose thinking we were done.

"Yeow, boss. That really stung!" she said rubbing her rear cheeks through the
thin material.

"Oh, really? Well march yourself over to that corner and face it while I go get
something." I commanded.

Jane's jaw dropped in reaction to the order. "Boss? What..?"

"Just get your little nose right in that corner!"

Jane gulped, flustered, but she moved. I went into the outer office and
retrieved her chair. It swivelled and had no arms. Dragging it into my office, I
spun it around in the center of the room and sat down. Miss Jane was about to
find out what a hot stinging spanking was all about.

"Jane, get over here." Jane reluctantly approached, hands on her hiney, still
rubbing.

I guided her around to my right side and rolled up my sleeves. Her eyes got big
as she watched. Then I looked up. "Jane, you wanted a spanking, now you're gonna
get one. The thing is, spankings are 99% more effective when given on the bare
bottom as you observed Saturday night. Now lift up your skirt."

"But boss, I..."

"Lift your skirt now or my belt is coming off!"

Jane gulped and tugged the tight skirt up. She had to shimmy a bit to get it up
over her hips. When she did, I was presented with a very nice view of a black
garter belt holding up her stockings along with French cut black silk panties.
She had obviously dressed for the occasion. I guided her over my lap until she
was jacknifed over my right knee, bottom pointed at the ceiling, hands on the
floor to my left, legs straight out to my right. Her lovely pert posterior was a
classic teardrop shape, swelling globes that spilled out of the edges of the
skimpy panties. Bands of pink caused by the ruler laddered the exposed flesh.

Jane gave a little wriggle as I rested my hand on her left cheek cupping it.
"Ok, Jane, lift up a bit." She groaned with embarassment but lifted her hips. I
tugged down the little panties until they fluttered at her ankles. Clamping my
arm over her back and pulling her closer I said, "Jane, I am now going to give
you something that will help your concentration immensely. Remember this when
you are sitting at your desk tommorrow."  Jane managed to choke a quavering,
"yes, boss."

Then I started to spank. The smacks were deliberate and firm. I alternated
sides. Smack! left cheek. Smack! right cheek. The bottomcheeks giggled. Jane
made little yipping noises as the spanks rained down. I stepped up the pace a
bit, peppering her nude fanny with smacks that echoed off the walls. She
wriggled. She drummed her feet on the floor. "Ow, boss...
Smack!...yeow...Smack!...ooh that one hurt...Smack! crack!...please, it
stings...really! Smack! Spank! Whap! I gave her a long rapid-fire barrage of
crisp hard spanks that bounced off her well reddened buns. "Owwwweeeee!" She
yelled arching her back and lifting her feet off the floor. Then I slowed down.
Smack! "Do you think this will help Jane?" Smack! "Will you really try to avoid
thoughtless mistakes?" Smack! "Ow...ow...ow! Yes boss. Please stop now?"

"Ten more good hard ones Jane to really drive the point home," I said rubbing
the beet-red globes. Smack! Smack! Smack! Just as I raised my hand again, I
heard a key in the lock and the door was pushed open. There stood a middle-aged
Hispanic lady in a bluish smock with a large wastebasket on a trolley. The
cleaning lady! Shit!

Jane, however, maintained her composure. She lifted her head, and said very
straightforwardly, "We are having a private conference, now. Could you please
come back later?" The cleaning lady, her eyes bulging out of their sockets,
nodded dumbly, crossed herself and backed out of the room, closing the door. We
heard the clattering of her cart as it receded down the hall.

"Where were we?" I said. Unbelieveable. "That was three," said Jane. She was
looking back at me tearfully. "You were going to give me ten." "I think under
the circumstances, we are finished, Jane." There was silence for a moment, then
Jane said in a small voice, "I think you should finish boss...finish what you
said." Better give the lady what she needs, I thought, and I laid on 7 more hard
stingers that had Jane gasping and writhing over my lap.

Jane moaned softly as I rubbed her flaming hiney. I could see glistening in the
furry patch between her legs. She responded to my caress by humping her hips up
and down. My fingers found her warm wetness and she moaned louder, "Oh, yes,
bossss....please." I slipped one finger in---then two. With my encircling arm I
reached around and found her clit. Massaging her clitty with one hand and
finger-fucking her with the other, it wasn't long before she shuddered in a
violent wracking orgasm.

I let her slip to the floor on her knees. She moaned softly massaging her
inflamed rear and rested her head in my lap. Then she brought her hands up,
lifted her head and deftly reached for my zipper. She pulled my zipper down and
reached in to grasp my penis which by this time was as hard as a rock and
threatening to burst from the confines of my pants. She pulled it, and it popped
out, pointing straight up. Jane regarded it for a moment. Then she raised her
head and looked wistfully into my eyes. "Shall I go ahead boss? I think you need
this after giving me such a throrough spanking---and what you you did after." I
nodded and she lowered her head to the turgid shaft. A shock wave of pure
pleasure passed through me as I felt her lips engage the head. Then it slipped
between those lips and slid into her warm wet mouth. She sucked in long slow
pulls at first, dragging her lips the length of my shaft before letting it
nearly pop out of her sweet mouth before doing it again. Then she sort of bobbed
up and down and swirled her tongue around. She sucked harder after awhile and
the bobbing motion became faster. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over me as
my accomplished fellatrix worked her lips and tongue on my cock. I gripped her
shoulders as I started to cum. I thought I would rise up out of the chair, I
came so hard. Jane kept her head down and gulped the gism that filled her mouth.

When it was over I slumped back in the chair. Jane rocked back on her heels for
a moment, then in a very businesslike way, rose, adjusted her clothing, and
stood before me. "Boss, I..." she started, but I interrupted her. "It's ok,
Jane---look neither one of us knew..."

"But Boss, I did. I knew from Saturday night. I wanted you to treat me like your
niece and her friend--I was so turned on by you spanking them...I wanted to see
for myself," she said haltingly, eyes downcast. The admission shamed her.

"It's ok Jane," I reassured her but at the same time I thought, what does this
mean now? "Jane, I have to ask you--do you still want to work for me?"

"Oh, yes! I do. And I'll really do my best, not like today. But boss?" she said
questioningly. "Yes?" I lifted my eyebrows. "If I really do screw up...you
can...what I mean is...I want you to punish me. Will you?" "After tonight, I
don't see any other way, " I smiled. "And Jane,..."

 "Yes, Boss?"

"Bring that paddle of yours to work with you tommorrow, ok?"

Life was getting interesting.

Certificate of Correction Part 6 Return to St Johns

   We were a nervous trio, Erin, Allison and I, who sat lost in our own thoughts
as we saw the lights of St Johns through the window of the Air Carribean prop
jet as it approached the island.  Erin and Allison had decided to come back to
try and help their friend Susan avoid a three year jail term for selling drugs. 
She hadn't really sold any drugs, it was just presumed that with a little under
3 oz.  in her possession, that it was for the purpose of sale.  However, with
Erin and Allison willing to testify that one third of the stash had been theirs,
and abandonned, the charge would be at most, simple possession.

   Possession did not warrant a jail term in St Johns, but it did warrant
punishment, and that was the cause of the butterflies in the girls' stomachs as
the plane swooped in for its landing.  My friend Harry, an attorney in St Johns,
had undertaken Susan's representation at my request. The prosecutor had seemed
amenable to a reduction in charges if the girls would return and testify as to
their own guilt, however, this would amount to a guilty plea on Erin and
Allison's part, and the court would pass sentence.  What they hoped was that the
court would just issue an immediate deportation order for all three, but there
was the outside chance that all three could receive the punishment mandated by
the island's criminal code.

   The punishment was flogging.  For adult females, the flogging was in the form
of a birching.  It was not as severe as the whipping with a cat that men
received, but it was administered as "lower discipline", across the bared
buttocks of the female prisoner in the prison courtyard.  For juveniles (under
21) the punishment was given in private with a strap, again across the bared
bottom of the offender.

   Two weeks prior, both girls had been given a spanking plus 10 licks with my
secretary Jane's paddle by yours truly under the stern direction of Erin's
guardian, Aunt Linnea.  So the possibility of a second punishment was was
unsettling, to say the least.  Where the licking mandated by Aunt Linnea had
been a family affair, given with affection, with both tears during the
correction and hugs and forgiveness at the end, a judicially ordered strapping
would be a cold, mechanical proceeding in harsh surroundings.

   To give the girls credit, it hadn't taken them long to decide to face the
music and help their friend.  And we wanted to do it without delay.  Susan
continued to sit in jail.

   We landed at the airport and went straight to the hotel.  It had been a long
day.  That night I met Harriet for dinner.  She had changed but was still pretty
as ever.  The long hair was gone in favor of a close cropped style.  I told her
I thought it made her look younger.  Harriet still had great legs, a long
slender waist, and sparkling blue eyes.  Her short skirt stretched very tightly
across a trim, pouty derriere.  She jumped up from the bar as I walked in and
gave me a big hug.  I thought maybe she pressed her body against mine a little
longer than necessary.

   We chatted for awhile.  She had come down here after her divorce.  She felt
like she was just starting to live again, she said.  With an interested twinkle
she asked about my love life.  I told her about my on again off again thing with
Karen.  "It seems like it's off again, now.  She had to go to California for an
extended period of training.  And she's looking at a west coast job.  We agreed
that we should back off for the time being." Harriet allowed as to how that made
sense.  I didn't tell her about the complication brought on by my tryst with my
own secretary.  I asked her why she settled here.

   "I was devastated by the breakup with Frank.  I came down here to regroup,
get my head together.  At the time the island population was growing.  There was
a need for basic legal services, so I looked into it and joined the bar.  It
wasn't that hard.  Life here was kind of nice and laid back."

   "Even with this English discipline stuff in the criminal code?"

   "Well, yeah but you have to look at it from their point of view.  A kid
steals some stuff, he lives here, everybody knows him.  He's probably not a bad
kid but they figure he needs a good spanking.  So that's what they do. Same with
drunk drivers, vandals, and other petty crime.  They don't want prisons--too
expensive.  The insular nature of the society keeps the recidivism down.  When
everyone knows you've been flogged, it's shaming and they watch you."

   "It is lurid.  Shameful." I told her about the Ohio procedure.

   "Wow!" she exclaimed.  "Spanked like a ten year old then paddled." Her body
gave a little shiver.  "I wonder what that feels like."

   "I wouldn't know," I mumbled, but my face gave me away.

   "Rollin, c'mon fess up--you're hiding something.  I can tell," she teased.

   "Maybe later.  What about this birch switch they use here.  It sounds
seriously painful."

   "I've seen it applied once....It's painful, yes, but...interesting.  I've
often wondered..."

   We were interrupted by the waiter who took our orders.  Somehow we got off
into other subjects--how her marriage to Frank went south, old mutual
classmates--where were they now.  Through the course of the meal I found myself
warming up to Harriet and I think the feeling was mutual.  What a great smile I
thought.  What a great figure another part of me thought as I watched the
sensuous sway of her hips as she walked away to the ladies room before dessert. 
I escorted her home.  She lived close by.  There was an awkward moment at the
door but I decided not to push things.  Still, the energetic goodnight kiss and
the feel of her breasts pressing against me told me that maybe I should have
been bolder.  Somehow though, I couldn't see getting mixed up with Harriet until
the girl's situation was resolved.

   ***********************************************************************

   Harriet had talked to the prosecutor's office and explained that if the girls
were ready, we could be on the docket for an arraignment and pretrial hearing
the next day.  This court was not that busy.  Harriet then launched into an
explanation of what could happen.

   "I've talked it over with the prosecutor's office and they have agreed to
recommend mitigation of Susan's sentence if you two plead guilty.  Susan will be
in court and new sentence will be imposed.  Now, girls," he said evenly, "I will
do my best, and, usually immediate deportation is ordered. But I have to let you
know that The court could order that you be given corporal punishment, all three
of you, before they let you go."

   Both Erin and Allison looked at each other.  This was the moment of truth. 
Up to now they could have backed out, but once they agreed to show up in court,
the die was pretty much cast.

   " We will, of course, ask that you be deported and barred from reentering St
John's for a period of time but, even with the prosecutor in agreement the court
does not have to accept the deal.  I must say that usually they do, and I really
think everything will be alright and you'll be on your way to the states
tommorrow.  Are you prepared to go ahead?"

   "Wha...what could they do to us?" asked Erin nervously.  I had told her what
the penalty was before.  I guess she wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth.

   "They could give you the strap." said Harriet with a deep breath.  "The
procedure is this, "they will take you into custody overnight.  You have to be
held for 24 hours in case there are numbing drugs in your system, that sort of
thing.  Then close to the end of the 24 hour period, they will take you to the
infirmary and give you a medical exam to make sure that you are declared fit to
receive punishment.  Your attorney, which can be me or Rollin, may be present
for the exam and may accompany you through the rest of the

   ...er...procedure.  I have done this for two juveniles and one adult client
so I can tell you what happens.  You will be given a hospital gown to wear. 
Underneath you will be naked.  A punishment detail of matrons will place your
hands in handcuffs and escort you to an upstairs room in the Justice Center. 
You will have your gown removed and you will be fastened face down over a sort
of bench.  They will read the warrant signed by the judge and then one of the
matrons will then deliver the required number of strokes to your ah...bottom
with an approved juvenile correction strap.  This is a piece of leather about
20" long, 3" wide and 1/4" thick. After the strapping you will be taken back to
the infirmary for treatment, then released."

   The girls grimaced.  "Does it hurt much?" asked Allison.  Erin knew, she did
not have to ask.

   Harriet nodded.  "I'm afraid so, girls.  My clients have told me that indeed
it does hurt.  Very much.  They were both unable to bear it without crying out. 
Their skin was very red and their buttocks swollen.  There were welts that did
not go away completely for weeks.  However, there was no permanent damage.  But

   yes, they said it was very, very painful."

   "What about Susan?" asked Erin, obviously concerned.  "What could happen to
her?"

   "Ah, yes, Susan," said Harriet with a sigh.  "Look, I've talked to her and
she prefers this to three years in jail here, but she is scared and justifiably
so.  An adult flogging in St John's is a serious matter.  You know, it's a good
thing this isn't one of the French protectorates where they mandate flogging. 
You can be sentenced to hundreds of lashes and have to stay in jail until they
can all be administered, so you get both, jail and a whipping, several in fact.

   "Anyway, Susan might be looking at 3 dozen strokes of the birch."

   "What's a birch?  Isn't that a type of tree?" wondered Allison.  We had been
using the word, but I hadn't really explained to the girls what it was. Harriet
spoke up.

   "That's almost right, Allison, but it really refers in this context to a
bunch of switches, 6 in fact, bound together.  The tree they use is willow. It
doesn't grow here indigenously, but when this got started, they planted a grove
on the Justice Center grounds.  The night before a birching the matron or guard
detail given the job of actually administering the whipping goes out, along with
the prisoner, to the willow and cuts a bunch of switches that are about a metre
long and taper from 5mm down to half that. Then they strip the buds and leaves
to make them smooth, bind them in groups of 6 each and put them in water.  It's
kind of an event and spectators sometimes gather on the street to watch the
"condemned" help cut and peel the very switches that she will be flogged with. 
It's an extra measure of humiliation and public shaming that the government of
St John's feels is appropriate, since the punishment for women is considered
less severe than what the men get."

   "Wow!  She has to cut her own switches.  And people watch this?" said Erin,
incredulous that this could happen.

   "Yes and the jeers from the crowd are, as you might expect, embarrassing.
Prison garb is tight denim trousers that don't leave much to the imagination,
and the soon-to-be-whipped hears a lot of comments about the portion of her
anatomy about to get it."

   "Do people get to watch her get it?" said Allison.

   "Well, it is closed to the general public, but practically anyone who has
some clout can get in and watch from a window in the Justice Center.  The
Justice Center is our combined criminal court, juvenile facility and jail.  It
has a central courtyard and there is a scaffold there with a whipping post in
the middle of it.  They do it there.  Usually at high noon."

   "God, it sounds ghastly.  Poor Susan!" Erin just shook her head in dismay for
her friend.

   "Yes, poor Susan.  The night before they measure her for the post and..."

   "Measure her for what?" I interjected.

   Harriet began to explain.  "I'm sorry girls, these details are kind of lurid. 
The whipping post has a horizontal bar that sticks out about 2' to project a
padded trestle.  They use this for women.  The bar is adjusted so that the
trestle is positioned right at the pelvis.  This makes her bend forward at the
hips when her wrists are secured to the post.  It pushes the buttocks out to
provide a better, er target.  The birch is used only on the buttocks and upper
thighs.  They want to avoid hitting the back."

   We all paused a moment to absorb the grim reality of these details.

   Harriet continued.  "I have told all of this to Susan, but she wants to risk
it to get out of here.  You know, as a practical matter she might be flogged
anyway if she were jailed here.  Corporal punishment of the prisoners is routine
for rules infractions, even minor ones.  The matrons even have 'regulation'
straps that have been approved by the courts to deal with misbehavior."

   A pretty grim prospect, I thought.  I looked at Erin.  "Your call, kiddo."
"I...I guess we're ready," said Erin.  Allison nodded and said, "we can't leave
Susan here."

   "Ok, then," said Harriet with a sigh, shuffling some papers, "I'll call the
prosecutor and the clerk's office.  You go back to the hotel.  I'll call you."

   We waited anxiously in the hotel.  The girls paced.  Nobody felt like eating. 
Finally Harriet called.  "Well, Rollin, tell the girls we are set for 10am in
the morning.  I've done the best I can.  The prosecutor will reccomend leniency,
but I'm afraid of this judge.  He is hard on drug use, especially on kids from
the US who come down here on holiday to raise hell. You had better tell the
girls to be prepared to be taken into custody and spend the night in jail.  And
for what comes later."

   ***********************************************************************

   We were an anxious bunch that walked up the steps of the Justice Center the
next morning.  We were ushered into the courtroom by Harriet.  Susan was brought
in from a side door.  The girls hugged each other and cried.  Susan thanked them
profusely for returning to help her.  Susan was a beautiful girl.  A voluptuous
redhead, she had shimmering long curly red hair, green eyes and a nice build. 
She was a robust 5'7" with a large bust and flaring hips.  Her well-rounded seat
was displayed by the tight prison denim trousers she had to wear.  Well, I
thought, at least she's well upholstered enough to take it.

   Order was called and the judge entered.  The judge, an overweight florid man
in his late 60's, wore the black robe and wig favored by the English common law
countries that had adopted that justice system.  Harry wore a barrister's wig
and robe as well.  He had moved for my admission pro haec vice (for this matter)
so I could represent the girls.

   The bailiff called the case, Commonwealth vs.  Susan Pemberton.  The
prosecutor then addressed the judge, explaining the charge and how it might be
affected by the presence of Erin and Allison.  The judge nodded, listening
intently, then he addressed Harriet and me.

   "Counsel, do I understand that your clients are willing to plead guilty to
possession of less than one ounce of a controlled substance, if the charge
against Ms Pemberton can be likewise reduced?"

   We said yes.  The judge indicated that he wished to make sure, and spoke
directly to Erin and Allison.  "I admire you for returning to help your friend,
ladies, but as you are aware our laws on drugs here are very specific and there
are penalties for drug use.  Has it been explained to you what those penalties
are?"

   "Yes, Sir," said both girls in a small voice.

   "And do you both wish to enter a plea of guilty to the possession charge?"

   Both girls looked at each other, then at Susan, then answered in the
affirmative.

   At this point the prosecutor jumped in and said that his office recommended
leniency in the form of immediate deportation for all three defendants.  Harry
spoke next pointing out that Susan had spent 10 days in jail already.  I got up
and told the court that the girls had been punished already (without being
specific as to how).  The judges eyebrows arched up at this bit of information. 
At this point our hopes were high.  Those hopes, however, were dashed by the
next pronouncement from the bench.

   The judge indicated he was ready to rule.  "The defendants will rise," said
the bailiff.

   "Susan Pemberton, Erin Hand, and Allison Carter, you are all guilty of
illegal drug use.  That is a serious crime on St Johns.  Drugs are a cancer on
our island society.  Year after year you American students come down here and
think you can flount our laws and get away with it."

   Uh-oh, I thought.  This was bad.  The guy was working up to something. The
girls were standing there, trembling as he continued the tirade.

   "Well, you young madames cannot, and I'm going to make an example of you
three so you can go back home and tell your friends, tell the newspapers, tell
anyone you care to that drugs in St Johns will not be tolerated!" He was almost
shouting.

   When he stopped you could hear a pin drop in the courtroom.

   "I'm going to reduce the charge for you Ms Pemberton, but under the reduced
charges I'm sentencing you three to the maximum permitted by our law.  Erin Hand
and Allison Carter, you will each receive 24 lashes to be administered in the
approved manner for juveniles by the department of corrections.  Susan
Pemberton, you will be given 36 lashes to be administered according to proper
procedure for adult female offenders.  And, ladies, I hope this punishment is a
salutatory experience for you three.  Sentence will be carried out within 24
hours and you are then to be deported.  That is all.  Bailiff, take Ms Hand and
Ms Carter into custody. Call the next case."

   Erin's knees buckled and I nearly had to catch her.  Allison gasped loudly. 
Two bailiffs approached.  Before anyone could react Allison and Erin were cuffed
and were starting to be led away.

   "Please, help, Uncle Rollin....no wait...just a minute.  Can they do this?"
Erin entreated, practically dragging her heels as they hustled her along.

   "Just a minute," I pleaded.  The bailiffs stopped.  One of them turned to
Harriet and I.

   "They are to be taken into custody now, counselors.  Sorry, but we have our
procedure.  The pre punishment physical will be at 10am.  You may see them
there.  There will be no visiting tonight.  Miss Pemberton will accompany the
punishment detail to prepare the rods for her correction at 5pm today if you
care to observe from outside the compound like everyone else." The guy was
brusque and all business.  The three frightened girls were then hustled out of
the courtroom.

   Harriet and I looked at each other.  She shook her head and sighed.  "Best we
could do, Rollin.  That judge, Forbisher, is hard on drug cases. He has an
addict daughter.  Hates dealers and thinks the way to get to the problem is to
levy severe punishments.  It could have been worse, though. He could have kept
Susan's sentence at three years and had Erin and Allison whipped.  Let's go back
to my office and I'll fill you in on what we do next.

   The last thing I saw was the frightened look in the eyes of the girls as they
were led away in cuffs to spend what was to be a very terrifying night in view
of what was in store the next day.

   ************************************************************************

Certificate Of Correction Ch 7

We went to Harriet's favorite spot for lunch. I thought about the "lunch" that
the girls were probably getting. I had called Linnea and given her the bad news.
She was disappointed but later philosophical about the punishment the girls were
to receive in the morning.

"A good whipping never did anybody any harm," she mused." It hurts like hell,
though. Believe me, I know. My father, your great uncle, was a firm believer in
the corrective power of a good strapping for disobedience and I found myself
being marched out to the barn on more than several occasions growing up. He
raised some welts on my behind with a harness strap, I can tell you. I guess
Erin could be bruised a bit but that's to be expected. Don't get me wrong. I
feel sorry for Erin and her friends, and it must be scary, being in jail, but
Lord, those girls brought it on themselves. Drugs! And they knew better!"
Softening, she added, "You'll look out for her, I know, Rollin.
Just...just...make sure it's legal--I mean how they do it, you know?"

I told Linnea that my collegue had assured me that they followed a strict
procedure, before , during and after. I even put Harriet on the line to tell her
that the punishment is designed to be painful but not cause permanent injury.
That's scant consolation when you know that at 10pm the next morning you're
going to be whipped as hard as a sturdy matron can manage, I thought.

Harriet told me to meet her on the street outside the compound at 5pm. That
would be when the punishment detail would bring Susan out to prepare the
switches for the birch rod to be used on her the next day.

When I arrived outside the grounds to the Justice Center there were about 20
people standing around. Most looked like islanders although there were a few
tourists. A grove of willow trees took up one corner of the greenspace inside
the iron fence shutting the grounds off from the rest of the world. I sidled up
to Harriet who regarded the crowd with a dour expression.

"Voyeurs," said Harriet disgustedly, waving her hand at the onlookers. "They've
got nothing better to do than watch some poor girl be humiliated. They must get
this vicarious thrill knowing that the girl they see out here cutting and
skinning switches is going to get her bottom whipped in the morning."

Just like Madame LaFarge at the foot of the guillotine, I thought-- a few
"courthouse rats" with too much time on their hands. They were talking excitedly
and avidly reading the notice displayed at the entrace gate announcing the fact
that one Susan Pemberton, having been convicted of drug possession, would
receive 36 lashes with the island birch on the morrow in the courtyard.

"Serves 'em right, I say," proclaimed a stolid matron loudly. "These little
madames parading around in their little thong bikinis should all have their
behinds whipped. Yes indeed. Whipped real hard!" she added, eyes aglow.

I surmised that it would do no good to point out to her that the punishment had
nothing to do with thong bikinis. She was obviously rapturous over the prospect
of a good flogging for any attractive young woman who could display herself in a
thong bikini.

At about five we could see a small procession emerging from the side of the
building. It was Susan with two matrons and a guard. Susan wore the tight
regulation denims and a halter top. I decided that she was a tiny bit bottom
heavy--still very attractive--the slender waist maybe offset her swelling
bottomcheeks, making them look all the more prominent, perhaps. They stopped at
the grove of willow and I could see the matron pointing to several choice
switches. She the handed Susan a small scissor-like pruning tool. Susan stood up
on tiptoe throwing her bounteous bottom into stark relief as she reached to cut
the indicated withes. Even from where I stood I could see her blushing with
shame at having to perform such an ignominious task. The catcalls and comments
from the watchers added to her humiliation.

"Look at the ass on that one--she'll get it good."

"Yeah, they've got a lot to work with--that's a butt that's going to get a right
smart whippin'."

"She'll be standing up on the plane for sure. I heard they're deporting her
right aftewrwards."

"Ralph--stop ogling. She'll be getting that fanny whipped good and proper--a
taste of our island justice. Ralph, you disgusting oaf, you're practically
drooling. Well, that's enough of this. I should cut a switch for you at home.
Come along." Ralph reluctantly trotted after the formidable housewife like a
puppy.

"It says it's to be 36 strokes. Ouch! She'll feel that for a long time."

"Hey, sweetie, just remember", called out some jerk in the throng, "--this hurts
us more than it'll hurt you." General laughter followed.

"Grin and bare it, honey, grin and bare it." More chuckles.

Susan must have been mortified. I know she was trying to ignore the remarks, but
I could not imagine the shame inflicted by a bunch of strangers looking on and
discussing your imminent whipping like it was a circus sideshow.

They cut quite a few switches. Harriet told me that their regulations called for
one rod per dozen strokes. As Susan cut where they told her, a matron took and
trimmed the switches to length using a yardstick to measure. We understood that
30" was the uniform length specified. It took all of 15 minutes to complete this
mortifying chore, but I'm sure that for Susan they were long minutes, though
probably not as long as the 15-20 minutes that it would take tommmorrow for them
to give her the actual punishment. The trimmed and peeled switches were tied in
a bundle and the punishment detail escorted Susan back to the compound. I have
to confess, I was watching the gentle sway of her sexy rear in those tight
denims as she walked away.

Harriet and I retired to her house that evening. There was nothing more to be
done. Harriet changed into a very fetching sundress made of some thin cotton.
She made us some fruit concoction with rum in it, and brought the pitcher over
to the table in front of the sofa.  "If we tried to mount some sort of appeal or
PR campaign we would only prolong this thing, and in the end the girls would be
whipped anyway, right?" I just wanted to confirm this. I sort of felt that maybe
we hadn't done everything we could have.

"Right," said Harriet. "This island is rough for law 'n order. Especially drugs.
I know how they think. If they let these girls off with a scolding it sends the
wrong message. As I told you, they use the birch for petty thievery too. I had a
client a few months back--court appointed, you know, we all get them. Pretty
girl. Single mom. Two young children. She says she didn't lift anything from the
store, that it was a mistake. I believed her, and I told her she'd sound and
look good to a jury. Well, they offered her 24 strokes for a guilty plea. She
couldn't raise the money for bail and she had those two kids to take care of--so
she opted for the birch."

"She did a lively dance, Rollin. When they commenced to whipping her little seat
she was stoic at first, then she started yelping and squirming. At the end she
shrieked and cried like a baby. They took their time, too-- 24 slow deliberate
strokes in the noonday sun. She said later that at first it stung like bees and
then like a slow fire building up. Not so bad at first but then as the pain
builds on top of itself it takes your breath away. By about number six she was
yelping and dancing. But you know, by 20 she was doing sort of a slow grind
against the bar...." Her voice trailed off and her eyes had a distant look.

"Is this how you learned all this? the procedure, I mean? Through this client?"

" What?" She'd been distracted. "Oh, yeah, she was my first. This was all new. I
had done a little bit of everything, you know, divorce, wills, real estate--even
some juvenile and criminal stuff. The corporal punishment law had been in effect
for about 3 years before I got here. At first I was appalled, but I don't
know--it's probably better in a lot of cases than jail. And for women it's not
really brutal in the sense of injury or scars, but it stings like hell. Also,
it's more shameful. You know, to get your ass whipped like that. Frankly, I
think there's a sexual element too. In fact," her voice dropped to a
conspiratorial level, "I've heard that some women even become ah...aroused by a
birching." She blushed as she said it. It brought something back to me that
she'd said the previous night. I couldn't pin it down--it was hanging on the
edge of my memory--out of focus.

I acknowleged that I knew something about this, and under the influence of
Harriet's island punch or whatever, started to tell her about Karen and her
experiment with the "sandal". Her eyes grew wide as the tale unfolded. I guess
we'd both had a few drinks. Harriet flushed as the details poured out. I could
swear her nipples hardened, from what I could see through the thin top of her
dress. Something was going on with her.

"You spanked her?" she said breathlessly. I nodded. "Over her skirt?" I shook my
head. "Nooo...on her ...panties?" Another head shake. "Bare... er, bottomed?" A
yes nod. "I can't believe this! This was a...an experiment? And then what? Tell
me!" She was visibly excited. She licked her lips, eyes shining.

"Well...the sex was pretty.. ah..intense."

"Oh, my! Rollin! And I always thought you were so very proper with us ladies.
Now I know how naughty you are," she teased, "and a brute as well." She was
trying to compose herself. She paused, then asked, "Did you put her across your
knee like some bratty little girl?" I nodded. "So you put her over your knee,
pulled down her pants and gave her a spanking just so she could feel what a
correctional paddling felt like. And then you...then you..."

"That's about the size of it."

"I wonder about the size of it," she giggled.

"Now who's being naughty?"

"Well, Rollin you come in here looking all fine and fit and start telling tales
of spankings for girls on their bare bottoms...what's a lady to do?" Her voice
was now an octave lower and she leaned toward me. I grabbed her around the waist
and pulled her to me. She mashed her lips to mine and we kissed, deeply, her
furtive tongue seeking mine. My hand found her breast and I palmed it gently
pinching the erect nipple. She groaned with pleasure. I stood up pulling her
with me. She pulled away for a moment then unzipped the little sundress. It fell
to the floor leaving her in a wispy bra and thong panties. Wow! She was
gorgeous. She was sort of long waisted with baseball sized perky breasts and
wide flaring hips. Now as we resumed the kiss my hands roamed her sumptuous
seat, caressing and kneading the resilient mounds. She responded with a low moan
and by grinding her pelvis against mine.

 We moved back to the couch. I sat down and cradled her face up in my lap and
continued kissing her while my hand caressed her breasts. After awhile I slid my
hand between her legs. Yep, the gusset of the thong was slippery wet. She
groaned as I slid my fingers up and down her slit. She started humping against
my hand then stopped. She propped herself halfway up.

"Try it on me," she said in a throaty whisper. I thought, "Huh?" But I got her
meaning as she turned over and crawled face down across my lap, stretching her
body out along the couch, her hips cocked over my right thigh. Her impudently
rounded bottomcheeks jutted up, soft, inviting. She looked back at me. "Go
ahead, spank me. I want to see what it feels like. Smack my bottom."

"You want me to spank you?"

"Umm...yes. The idea of it gets me hot. I just want to feel what it's like to
get a real fanny warming. You will won't you? Don't you think I have a nice
fanny?" And she gave it a little wiggle. Who could resist?

"As you wish, my dear." I patted and rubbed the fleshy mounds. She purred, and
arched her fanny up even higher. Then I started smacking her with little half
force slaps. Her rear wobbled deliciously, and she gasped in pleasure. I spanked
from side to side, slowly to let her absorb each one. She writhed and ground her
hips in response to each one. Then I picked up the pace, briskly spanking now.
She let out a stream of "Oh...oh...oh" as my palm went smack! smack! smack! Her
bottom was getting pink now, then hot pink as I spanked a little harder. These
spanks were interspersed with rubbing, kneading and a few trips by my hand to
that wet spot between her legs. Then I landed about ten good hard smacks, in a
right! left! right! left! pattern. She gave a squeal and ground her hips into my
lap. "Oooh....Rollin..that stung!" she bleated.

"Well this is a spanking you know. It's supposed to sting."

And with that I delivered another 10, this time medium hard. My hand struck
firmly, flattening each jouncy summit. The delicious mounds gave a little quiver
and than spang back to their original rounded shape as each solid smack landed.

Smack! A firm crack to her left cheek. "Owwww....Rollin!" Smack! Another one to
the other side. "Oooh....ahhhh...!" Smack! Smack! "Ouch! Ouch!" She gave a
little jump and kicked her legs.

I kept it up, alternately smacking her bouncing derriere soundly and pausing to
rub. When I did this she humped her hips, ginding her pelvis on my leg. Her
bottom color changed from pink to hot pink to a tomato red hue as I continued
her sexy chastisement. She started humping in time now, pushing her bottom up to
meet my descending hand. I could sense she might be close to cumming.  After a
fast flurry of about a dozen, I stopped and pulled her up. Her mouth was a wide
"O" and she rubbed her cheeks as she knelt on the couch, her eyes shining, her
chest heaving.

"Now I know what all the fuss is about," she said. "Ooo...I'm hot. Everywhere.
Mmmm, that was wonderful," she breathed and slid to the floor kneeling between
my legs. She undid my zipper and pulled out my rock hard penis. "Did spanking me
do all that?" she said licking her lips. I could only groan in assent because
she proceeded to slip my member between her lips and swirl her tongue around the
head. I was lost in a paroxism of pleasure. She eventually stopped, shucked down
my pants and slipped off her bra and thong. My cock was sticking straight up as
she lowered herself on it and started to pump up and down. The sliding friction
was exquisite. She was moaning now and pumping harder and faster. She came in a
shuddering climax, shaking like a rag doll. I came a second or two later,
pushing up with my hips, banging against her pelvic bone. We collapsed in each
other's arms, breathless and spent. Until we recovered, that is. The next one
was longer and more leisurely. Finally, exhausted, we fell asleep in each
other's arms.

Certificate of Correction     Ch 8

The next morning we presented ourselves at the Justice Center at 9am. Harriet
and I were to be allowed to observe the proceedings for Erin and Allison. Only
attorneys for the girls could be there on their behalf. There was to be a
medical exam for all three--which we could monitor--then Erin and Allison would
receive their punishment. After that, at high noon, Susan would receive the
birch.

We were met by a representative from the prosecutor's office, a smartly dressed
woman who said her name was Helen Schiff. She was all business---dark suit,
black hair pulled back in a bun, black rimmed glasses--yep, young assistant DA
all the way. I wondered if she volunteered for this. We shook hands, and we were
taken to the infirmary and instructed to stand off to the side in an examination
room.

They brought in Allison and Erin. The girls looked relieved to see us and gave
us a wan smile. They looked like they hadn't slept much. They were in street
clothes. Their stay was too short to merit prison garb. Not so with Susan. She
was brought in wearing her denims and halter from the day before. She looked
worried.

"Alright, let's get started." This from a beefy woman who looked to be the
matron in charge. "I'm Mrs Morris and I'm in charge of this punishment detail.
First, you girls are to be examined by Dr Blumquist to certify your fitness for
punishment. We'll then take the two junior girls upstairs. Ms Pemberton, you
will wait until noon for imposition of sentence. Cooperate and this will go
smoothly and you'll be allowed to leave St Johns today. Make trouble for us and
you might not. The very least we can do is order additional strokes, and belive
me, you don't want that. Do I make myself clear?" Nobody said a word. "Well, do
I?" she barked.

"Yes, ah... ma'am" squeaked Erin.

"Yes ma'am, yes." said Allison and Susan together.

She looked at all three for a moment. "Good. Alright, ladies, now strip.
Everything. Let's go."

The three girls looked at each other like 'Gee do we hafta?' The punishment
detail consisted of Mrs Morris, a juvenile matron escorting each of the girls,
and a female guard who had custody of Susan. Harriet and I were the only
non-prison personnel.

"This gentleman is your attorney ladies. You picked him, so don't go all modest
on me. Take your clothes off."

Allison, Susan and Erin proceeded to strip. Although I had seen Allison and Erin
both practically naked before, I still marvelled at how beautiful they both
were-- Erin with her petite but perfectly proportioned figure, and Allison with
her more bounteous figure. Susan was a lush and curvacious woman, perhaps a tad
bottom heavy, but that just made her more alluring. Harriet looked at me with a
raised eyebrow, but I could only give her a questioning grimace, like what am I
supposed to do? I tried to distract my mind. It wasn't fair to witness such a
lovely unveiling in such stark surroundings and for such a grim purpose.

They were given hospital type gowns. As they were tying these, the doctor
arrived. As if a pre-whipping physical were routine, he matter-of-factly
examined each girl, listening to her heart with a stethescope, taking blood
pressure--Christ, I could have told him that their little hearts would be racing
a mile a minute. Then the worst part. Each one had to bend over the examining
table while the doctor raised their gowns and inspected each one's buttocks to
certify them fit for flogging. Understandably they all blushed at this shameful
indignity. I understood that it was necessary--any cuts or bruises and they
wouldn't proceed. The doc made some notes on a chart then addressed the head of
the punishment detail.

"All are fit and ready to undergo punishment, Mrs Morris."

"Thank you doctor. All right girls, you heard him. You are healthy young ladies
and can stand up under the punishment you're going to get. Just a word of
advice--when the whipping starts, don't clench. It hurts more. Also, go ahead
and cry. Don't try and be the strong silent type. Now, I'm the head of this
detail but I'm not the one who's doing the flogging. That would be Ms Anna
Klochek. Ms Klochek has been specially trained to administer the punishment
prescribed for you by our courts. She is waiting for us upstairs. Let's go."

I couldn't decide if this was good news or bad news. I settled on bad. She had
probably had lots of practice and could therefore swing a punishment strap hard
with unerring accuracy.

 "Clara," she said to Susan's guard, "escort Miss Pemberton back to her cell."

And with that she ushered us out into the hallway for a walk down a long
corridor to a stairway. Erin and Allison were clad only in thin gowns, like
hospital gowns. They were naked underneath. The procession drew some stares,
smiles and knowing winks from passersby in the hallway, much to the
mortification of Erin and Allison. There was no question that this was a
punishment detail headed for the special room set aside for the delivery of
juvenile strappings.

We arrived at a nondescript room on the second floor and were ushered in. It was
a 20' by 40' room, low ceilinged, about the size of a school classroom. It was
unfurnished except for the apparatus that stood in the center of the room. This
was a low padded bench having a top in the form of a long shallow "A".
Apparantly the prisoner's hips rested at the apex of the A while lying face down
on the bench, so that in this slightly bent position the buttocks were the
highest point of the body, presenting a well-defined target for the strap. The
bench was only 3' high, which meant that the lashes would be applied with a
downward stroke.

A powerful looking matron in her mid 30's, short blonde hair, rangy, athletic,
who was apparantly Anna Klochek, stood at one end of the room next to a rack of
leather straps and wooden paddles.

Harriet and I were told to stand behind a yellow stripe painted on the floor.
The girls were taken to the other side of the bench, each one held at the elbow
by her guard. Mrs Morris pulled an official-looking document from a valise she
held under her arm.

"That's the warrant for the execution of corporal punishment," whispered
Harriet. "She has to read it to the defendants."

"Allison Carter, Erin Hand, having been found guilty of violation of the Code of
the Island of St John's, sec 18- 411(a), you have been sentenced to receive 24
lashes with the juvenile correctional strap. Have you anything to say?"

Both girls shook their heads. Their faces bore fearful expressions. Erin's eyes
flicked to Anna Klochek. I caught a thin smile forming on her face. Erin blushed
and looked away.

"Then we will proceed. We will go in alphabetical order. Miss Carter, please
remove your gown."

Allison hesitated for a brief moment then slipped the gown off, letting it drop
to the floor. Her guard pulled her over to the bench while Mrs Morris said, "Lie
face down...move forward a little. Hands down to the sides please."

While Allison was being adjusted, her guard fastened wrist cuffs to Allison's
wrists at the front legs of the bench, and ankle cuffs at the back. She then
brought a wide strap around from underneath which went across her lower back,
and buckled it. Another strap went around her legs just above the knee. Thus
fastened, she was completely immobile. She could squirm a bit but that was about
it. Her bottom jutted up obscenely in this contraption, the cheeks spread a
little, but remained relaxed so as to absorb in the fatty mass of flesh the
painful smacks of the strap that were to come.

When she was buckled in, Mrs Morris checked the restraints one last time and
nodded to Mrs Klocheck. The blonde matron selected a strap from the wall and
advanced toward the bench.

"Just a minute," said Harriet, "I want to examine that strap."

"This is highly irregular, Mrs Reeves. You are here to observe. That is all. You
may not interfere."

"That strap is not regulation for juvenile offenders. I wish to examine it. If
you please," she said holding out her hand.

"Let her see it," said Mrs Morris to Matron Klocheck, who with a smirk handed
the strap to Harriet. From a pocket in her suit coat Harriet produced a small
caliper and a tape measure, and proceeded to measure the strap. Allison craned
her head to look, eyes wide with trepidation.

"This is not regulation. It is 24" long, not 20", and is 3/8" thick, not 1/4" as
called for by your own procedure directives. See for yourself."

Mrs Morris handled the strap, then gave it to Mrs Klocheck. "Ok, Mrs Reeves,
you've made your point." To Mrs Klocheck she said: "Use the one hanging next to
it."

"Nice job," I whispered.

"That strap looked too heavy. I think they use it for prison discipline for the
adult females. The juvenile one is lighter, it won't bruise as much. It's the
least I could do for the poor girls. I suspected they might try this--probably
on a 'suggestion' from the judge, but he'd deny it in a heartbeat."

Anna Klochek retrieved the proper implement and took her stance next to the
bench. Allison closed her eyes, tense, buttocks clenched. The matron put her
left foot forward and ran the supple length of leather through her fingers.
Bringing it back she swooped it down from overhead. There was a "whoosh"
followed by a loud CRACK! as the leather flattened the summits of Allison's
bottomcheeks.

"Aiii...ahhh," hissed Allison. A livid line of red spang up on the crowns of her
buttocks as the strap was withdrawn.

"One," counted Mrs Morris. Another guard made a note on a clipboard. The matron
took aim again. Whoosh...CRACK! The jutting fanny jiggled as the strap hit.
"Arrr....owwww..." cried Allison. "Two." Whoosh...SMACK! Another loud smack
planted on the quivering mounds of Allison's behind. "Ohhhh...ssss...ahhh, God
it hurts!" squealed Allison, frantic. "Three." More scribbling on the clipboard.

The strap rose and fell with a steady rhythym, perhaps at intervals of 10-15
seconds. Mrs Klochek was putting her back into it, determined to punish the
attractive American as severely as she could. The blows of the strap were
explosive. Allison's fanny got redder and her cries more plaintive with each
smartly applied lick. The island of St John's was going to make sure these
Americans went home with well whipped fannies.

Whoosh...SMACK! "Oh...hoo...hoo..." Allison cried. "Fourteen." Whisshh....CRACK!
A particularly hard one. Allison jerked her head back and let own a shriek. A
thin smile appeared on Ms Klocheck's lips. She lined up the next stroke.
Whoosh...CRACK! Allison's buttocks quivered. The red bands were now all blurring
together. "Sixteen"

The remaining strokes were delivered with that same hard relentless intensity.
This was a real punishment. What I had done with the paddle, I could see, had
been mild by comparison. Twenty four strokes with what amounted to an old
fashioned razor strop, thick and supple, was a serious ass tanning, and I was
sure both Allison and Erin would feel the strap's heat for days to come.

I did have to admit that the strapping had been delivered with efficiency and
precision. Ms Klocheck knew what she was doing. She stood to the right side and
measured her distance. She ran the strap through her her left palm before
drawing it back behind her and swinging it up and down in a wide arc. Each
searing lick was right on target, each one producing a loud Crack! that
reverberated off of the hard walls of the room. The awful smacking sounds were
interspersed with Allison's hisses, wails and moans. The whole thing was over in
5 minutes. It must have been the longest 5 minutes of Allison's life, though.

When they let her up she could hardly stand. Her face was contorted in pain,
tears streaming down. She sobbed in soft hiccupping gulps. They shuffled Allison
to the side, and slipped the gown over her head. Mrs Morris turned her gaze on
Erin.

"Miss Hand, remove your gown please."

Erin's frightened eyes darted to the two of us as she dropped her gown to the
floor.

"Place her on the punishment bench," intoned Mrs Morris. Erin's guard assisted
her in assuming the face down bottoms up position that exposed her seat so
vulnerably. Matron Klochek waited patiently, strap in hand.

Erin's whipping was a carbon copy of Allison's, except that Erin wriggled more.
The pain of each smack of the strap must have been atrocious judging from Erin's
wails which grew more and more frantic with each lick delivered by the strong
right arm of the formidable Anna Klochek. Whoosh...SMACK! Whoosh...SMACK!  I
wondered if she enjoyed this. I think so. Her face beamed with an expression of
both determination and a sort of grim joy. She was sweating, her face and arms
bearing a light sheen of moisture. She would occasinally break rhythym to brush
back an errant lock of hair. After each painful smack we observed Erin grinding
her hips into the pad of the bench in a vain attempt to assuage the pain. Erin's
fanny was smaller and more compact than Allison's. It didn't jiggle as much as
each hard shot impacted the writhing cheeks. I wondered if it hurt her more than
Allison. Whoosh...SMACK! "Owwwww."  Whoosh...SMACK! "Aiii....ahhhh...". These
were the only sounds heard in the room for the five full minutes that it took to
administer 24 strokes with the licky strap. Nobody in the room moved or said a
word as all eyes fastened on the chastiser and the chastised acting out their
duet of pain.

When all 24 licks had been duly administered, Mrs Morris nodded to Matron
Klocheck who was by now, almost breathless. She had outdone herself. Both girls
had been given a bare bottom licking to rival the efforts of the burliest male
prison guard. The buttocks of both girls had been tanned to a livid red, almost
purple. They were both sobbing with pain and humiliation from the ordeal. At
least it was over.

"Take them back down to the infirmary," said Mrs Morris. Turning to Harriet and
me she said, "We will bring their clothes to them there. They will be released,
after Miss Pemberton's birching, which is due to begin in 15 minutes."

"Anna," she said, turning to the blonde matron who had so thoroughly whipped the
wriggling bottoms of our clients, "please escort Ms Reeves and her colleague to
the yard."

She told us to follow her. We caught up with her and walked three abreast down a
long corridor.

"Did you have to hit them so hard?" challenged Harriet. Anna Klochek stopped.
She looked at Harriet with a hard glare. "Of course. It's my job to punish. And
I punish very thoroughly," she said with a thin smile. "I believe that our
punishment should drive the culprit beyond the limits of her ability to bear
it--it should break her completely. Only then will she be truly sorry for her
crime."

"Well, it's obvious you tried," said Harriet huffily.

"Perhaps you protest too much, Ms Reeves. They had it coming. They got a, what
do you call it, good 'trip to the woodshed' today. However, the day isn't
over.... and Ms Reeves," she said with a cruel smile,

"Yes."

"You haven't seen anything yet."

Certificate of Correction Ch 9--The Birch

We were led into the yard. Harriet and I stepped into the brilliant noonday sun.
There were small, portable elevated bleachers that had been erected on either
side of a scaffold which stood at one end of the enclosed courtyard. The
courtyard itself was a long rectangle in the center of the Justice Center
complex measuring about 200' by 100'.

Various dignitaries and "guests" were already seated, some in the bleachers and
some in chairs directly in front of the scaffold. Stark and ominous, a whipping
post stood in the center of the scaffold. Off to the side was a bucket. Three
rods, actually bunches of switches bound at one end, and wrapped in cheesecloth,
protruded from the bucket. Otherwise the scaffold was bare except for some
chairs.

As attorneys for the prisoner, Susan Pemberton, we were entitled to be in front.
No one was permitted on the platform itself except the prisoner and the
corrections department people.

The punishment detail emerged from a door at one end of the courtyard. A rather
official looking man in his 50's led. I guessed he was the warden. Next to him
was a uniformed matron. There were guards on either side of Susan walking
abreast.

As they approached the scaffold, a uniformed policeman ascended the platform.
This fellow looked young and fit. He put down his hat and started to take off
his shirt. It looked like he was to be the "executioner". He was a good looking
guy in his 20's, brown curly hair, trim, actually quite handsome. Susan looked
up and I could see her give a little start when she realized that a man would be
giving her the whipping. Under any other circumstances she would probably
thought him quite good looking. I didn't imagine she'd relish him asking her out
in view of his appointed task today. Unfortunately, he also had wide shoulders
and strong looking arms.

Susan was wearing the same type of white smock that the girls had worn. My
impression was that the whole procession looked like some pagan sacrificial
rite.  The young officer started to roll his arms and stretch, loosening up his
shoulders.

The procession arrived at the bottom of the platform. Susan hesitated, then,
prodded by her escorts, she ascended the stairs. When all had reached the top.
The warden pulled out a paper and addressing Susan started to read it.

"It's the warrant for execution of the sentence," whispered Harriet. She seemed
breathless and agitated. She gripped my hand. "Poor Susan, there's nothing we
can do for her now...They haven't had a man do the birching before."

"Anything in their regulations forbid it?" I asked. Maybe this wasn't right.

"No. It doesn't say. It's up to the corrections department. The regulations
cover things like how many strokes, the size and length of the rod, that sort of
thing." She shivered as she contemplated the police officer with his shirt off,
now clad in a tank top, arms crossed...waiting.

Up on the platform the warden started to speak. He read essentially the same
charge as the one read to Allison and Erin

"...for which crime you will now receive 36 strokes with the island birch to be
delivered as lower discipline to the bare skin. Do you have anything you wish to
say before sentence is carried out?"

Susan stammered a nervous "no".

The warden nodded to the head matron and said, " Secure her to the whipping post
and proceed."

A sound, yelling from a window above, momentarily diverted everyone's attention.

"Susan, Susan, look up, we're here! You're not alone, Susan!"

Susan and everyone else looked up to the window above. There were Erin and
Allison waving with the fist up salute. Susan seemed to straighten up her
posture at the sight of her friends.

Next to me Harriet noted, "Uh, oh, trouble. They're not supposed to do that." An
official was talking to Anna Klochek and pointing to the window. She nodded and
strode off. I tried to follow but a guard stopped me.

"No one allowed in this entrance. You'll have to have an escort."

I'd have to go back in the front gate when this was over, anyway. I returned to
Harriet.

"Are the girls in trouble?" I said.

"I don't think so. They'll just tell them to pipe down."

On the platform Susan was ordered to doff her gown. She did so revealing her
lush body to the gaze of the spectators. Being a redhead, her skin was white.
She had a few freckles, but overall she had a pale skin tone. It would redden
quickly under the birch. Susan had an attractive figure. Her slender waist
flared out into nicely rounded hips and a full lush derriere. Her bottom cheeks
were both rounded and prominent. Nature's perfect spot for punishment.

The two guards led her to the post and positioned her against a horizontal bar
with a pad that projected out from the post and pushed her behind out by
pressing against her pelvis. Ankle cuffs were fastened to ring bolts. They
stretched her hands forward and up, and tied them to a ring high on the post
almost forcing her to stand tiptoe. This stretched her thighs and calves
slightly and forced her bottom to jut out lewdly, inviting the rod.

Susan turned and looked, wild-eyed at the man who would administer her birching.
He reached into the bucket and selected a rod. Drawing it out, he unwrapped it
from the cloth and shook it. The switches deployed, fanning out to form an end
that looked to be about 3"-4" wide. He swooshed it through the air several
times. It made an audible whine.

"They keep it wrapped in wet cheesecloth overnight," said Harriet. "Keeps it
supple--they don't want it to dry out."

The young officer looked at the warden.

"If you are ready, Sgt Wiggins, do your duty. Proceed with punishment."

Wiggins took his stance to Susan's right. He carefully measured the birch rod so
that the splayed end would fall across both cheeks evenly. Susan flinched as he
tapped her bottom lightly. Satisfied that his position was correct, he drew back
his arm. The birch rod made a whining sound as it descended and a dry thwack! as
it landed. Susan emitted a loud hiss, drawing a breath in through clenched
teeth. Someone on the platform called out, "One".

Parallel pink lines spang up on the crowns of Susan's buttocks where the rod had
struck. Susan wriggled and flexed her calves. Sgt Wiggins lined up the rod
again.

Swiiishh...thwack! The impact caused a fleshy ripple of the cheeks of Susan's
rear. Another sharp hiss from Susan. I heard a "Two" solemnly intoned by someone
on the platform, apparantly keeping count.

Swiisshhh...whick! Another hard swipe from the rod made Susan arch her head back
in pain. It must be stinging, I thought, but she was mostly silent yet. She
shifted from foot to foot as if this might alleviate the sting. All it did was
made her fanny jiggle lasciviously.

Swissshhh....huick! Number 4. A gasp from Susan.

Swiishhh....thwack!  "5". Susan thrust forward, arching on tiptoe. The pink
lines were merging into an overall hot pink hue.

Swiisshhh....huick! "6". Right in the fold at the top of the thighs-a tender
spot. I could see Susan's whole body tense in painful reaction to the swipe of
the rod.

Having found a rhythm, Sgt Wiggins now started whipping in earnest, delivering a
stroke, pausing, then pulling back his arm for the next one. Susan grew more
vocal now, yelping as the birch striped her nude fanny which grew redder with
every stripe. As the rod landed she would tense and throw her head back. Her
bottom jiggled as the rod struck.

At number 12, Wiggins stopped to get another rod. Susan sagged against the bar
gulping. She was one third of the way through the painful ordeal. Wiggins took
his time unwrapping a second rod. Susan turned her head to see what he was
doing, her eyes wide with apprehension.

"Ooh, I can only imagine how frightfully this must be stinging," breathed
Harriet, her hand still squeezing mine. "He's really laying into her."

I could only agree. Susan's rear was striped red. The birch wasn't heavy, it was
more supple and swishy than anything else, but the cumulative effect must have
felt like bee stings on top of bee stings.

Wiggins was ready to start up again. This time he delivered the twelve strokes
in sets of three. He would strike with three quick strokes like sswish! swish!
swish! and pause. The first time he did this, Susan rose up on her toes and let
out a wail that sounded like "arrrhhh...ahhh...uhh" at each lick. After the
second set of three she started dancing, hopping from foot to foot. It was like
she was doing a fanny jiggling dance in tune to the birch that scorched her
shapely seat in such a pitiless manner. On the third set she yelled in pain,
"Arrhh...ahh...nnnhhh" as each stroke landed. Wiggins had broken into a sweat
now. His skin revealed by the tank top glistened with exertion. He pused to wipe
his brow, then delivered the last three swipes of the second group of 12. Susan
broke down and shrieked. Her bottom was starkly red now. Most most offenders,
this would have been the end of the ordeal. Susan had 12 more to go.

She turned her head in our direction as Sgt Wiggins fetched the last rod. I
mouthed, "Almost over." Susan nodded weakly, her tearstained face a mask of
anguish.

Sgt Wiggins prepared the final rod, shaking the withes to spread them out. As he
swooshed it through the air, I could see Susan flinch at the sound. This time he
laid them on in hard even strokes. As each swishing lick struck Susan raised up,
her buttocks jiggling with the splat of the rod. Then she cried out in pain and
danced from foot to foot. She was no longer in control of her body but was
dancing to the tune of the punishing birch. By number 28 she was crying
continuously and begging shamelessly for mercy. At stroke number 32, however she
had slumped her body against the bar and was grinding her pelvis against it in a
slow humping motion, like she was being ridden from behind by a vigorous lover.
Wiggins paused momentarily, puzzled.

"Oh, God," said Harriet, "look, she's become sexually aroused. I saw this once
before." Everyone watched the unmistakeable writhing in stunned silence. The
lewd display was interrupted by a sharp admonition from the warden.  "Proceed,
Sergeant. Finish the punishment."

Sgt Wiggins nodded and drew back his arm, apparantly determined to make the last
few memorable.  Swiisshh....huick! "Arhhh....ah...ah.." bleated Susan. The
hardest one yet. She ground her hips against the bar in a slow circular motion.
Sweee....thwack! "34." Susan's fanny bounced lewdly. Swiiissshhh....thwick!
"35". Susan humped up and down, in a frenzied motion. Swiisshhh....huick! "36".
Susan rose on tiptoes and screamed, probably partly in relief.

The warden turned to Wiggins. "Good job Sgt."

"Thank you sir," he replied and placed the rod in the bucket with the other
spent birches.

"Untie her and take her back to the infirmary." The attending matrons approached
to do his bidding. Susan slumped when they untied her. They quickly covered her
with the loose gown. Susan's hands gingerly massaged her punished rear cheeks
through the thin cotton, and I could see tears roll down her face as they led
her away.

"Poor Susan," said Harriet shaking her head. "What an ordeal! To be stripped
naked and thrashed with a bundle of switches until you are screaming and
dancing. It's especially shameful for a woman...to have your rear end whipped
like some schoolgirl...and then to even become aroused by it! She will feel the
shame of that spectacle for years to come."

The spectators were beginning to melt away.

"I guess that's the point," I ventured. "The pain will fade soon but she will
remember this vividly for the rest of her life. Let's go retieve Erin and
Allison."

We went back out front and in through intake. To our surprise we were told that
the two juveniles had not been released but were being detained in the office of
the deputy juvenile head matron.

"Well call her," I demanded. "Those girls are to be released to my custody."

The desk officer picked up the phone. "There is an attorney here, a Mr Hand.
With him is a Mrs Reeves, an attorney for Susan Pemberton...yes? alright, I'll
send them back...yes, Carla can escort them. I will. Right away, Ms Klochek."

Anna Klochek again. I did not have to be told that this was not good news.

Certificate of Correction Pt 10

Why was I not surprised that we had not seen the last of Anna Klochek? For a
Carribean island, these people were wrapped pretty tight. Now, it seemed, Erin
and Allison were in trouble for creating a scene as Susan was being fastened to
the whipping post. Harriet blamed herself.

"Dammit, I should have told the girls--they don't allow any vocal demonstations
of any kind when punishment is meted out. You noticed that it was pretty silent
even though everyone who had a window to the courtyard, including other
prisoners was watching," she said as we hurried along.

"Yeah, I noticed that it was sort of quiet." You would think that prisoners
watching from the windows would be hootin' and hollerin'.

"That's because they come down hard on other prisoners who shout encouragement
or who heckle. I've heard that these violators pay a little visit to a
soundproofed upstairs room the next day. I didn't put too much stock in the
rumor because no one ever came to me directly. I feel horrible I forgot to tell
the girls this."

We arrived at Ms Klochek's office. The lettering on the door gave her
title--Deputy Matron, Director of Discipline. Director of Discipline--that
figures. A secretary looked up and buzzed an inner office.

"They're here."

Over the intercom came the voice of Anna Klochek. "Send them in."

The secretary rose and indicated for us to follow. We walked through an office
that was apparantly Deputy Klochek's and into a room beyond. What we saw there 
gave me a cold lump in the pit of my stomach.

Erin and Allison were upended over a pair of sturdy padded stools, their hands
and ankles bound by cuffs to the legs of the stools. They had been in street
clothes, the dresses they had worn to court. The hems of these dresses had been
pulled up and secured at the small of their backs with a strap. Panties had been
lowered to their ankles. Their bottoms were bare, red, and swollen--the latter
two characteristics the result of this morning's tanning with the strap.

Anna Klochek stood in the center of the room, her hands flexing a thin pliable
cane protruding from a handle. She was bending it into a semicircle. Then she
whooshed it through the air a few times. It made a sickening whine. Two other
guards stood off to the side.

"You're just in time to witness a little supplemetary punishment for your
clients here, thanks to that little disturbance of theirs. Our rules absolutely
forbid any catcalls or cheers on the part of spectators. When prisoners break
this rule we are authorized to punish the offenders. And don't bother calling. I
have already spoken with the judge--he witnessed the whole thing and he agrees
with my decision as Director of Discipline. They will receive 4 strokes each
with the junior cane."

I was indignant. "You can't be serious. Four strokes with that cane on top of
what they have been through--it's barbaric!" Both girls looked at me with
frightened eyes, helpless, hoping I could do something.

Anna Klochek smiled and shrugged. "They should have obeyed our rules. Now they
pay. With their bare little fannies."

"They didn't know there was a rule," I said. I was getting pissed. This was
purely a snide payback at Harriet for noticing Klochek's mistake with the heavy
strap this morning. This woman had a heightened sense of her own importance.

"Well...whose fault is that? Isn't it your business to know these things and to
advise your clients?"

"It's mine," said Harriet, looking Anna Klochek in the eye. Harriet was wearing
a suit with a short skirt, white blouse and a jacket. She moved over to a table
and began to unbutton the jacket. "It's my fault so cane me instead."

My jaw dropped. "Harriet you can't...". Her look silenced me. "I know what I'm
doing, Rollin." She had decided. The determined look said it all.

One of the matrons chuckled and shook her head. "Sorry, honey, nice try, but our
procedures don't permit..." Deputy Klochek held up her hand, stopping her
underling in mid sentence. Her face broke into a broad smile.

"So, Mrs Reeves, you are willing to take the punishment for these two?"
indicating Erin and Allison. "That's a very interesting proposition. How
courageous of you. I must say it's unusual. I've never seen an attorney prepared
to accept her client's punishment as her own."

The other matron spoke. "Anna, you can't...". Anna gave her a hard stare. "Shut
up, Officer Vasquez, this is my call and I can do anything I want." Then she
turned to Harriet, regarding her thoughtfully. I could not take my eyes off of
thin thin flexible cane that she flexed with her hands as she considered
Harriet's offer. She could bend it almost in a circle. "Hmmm...I'm inclined to
say yes to your proposal."

"You'll let the girls go. When this is done we leave," Harriet said evenly.

"Yes."

"All right. We have an agreement."

"Yes we do," said Anna with a wide grin. " And I don't mind telling you, Mrs
Reeves, that I will enjoy this." The smile vanished. " Now to business. That
suit looks like it would wrinkle. Would you be so kind as to take it off?"

Harriet took a deep breath and unzipped the skirt. She dropped it revealing an
ensemble in white satin, a garter belt holding sheer nylons, and panties. She
unbuttoned her blouse to show a white satin bra. Lovely. Under other
circumstances I would have been dazzled--even as it was, I hated myself for my
developing erection.

"The girls," I said, gesturing to Erin and Allison still bound over the stools.

"Oh, yes, release them," Ms Klochek nodded to Officer Vasquez. The assistants
unbuckled the girls who rose on unsteady legs, pulled their panties back up, and
smoothed their dresses back down. Their faces bore looks of genuine relief which
then turned to looks of concern at Harriet's plight.

Harriet had stipped down to bra, garter belt and nylons, and panties. Anna
Klochek pointed the cane toward the near stool. "Would you be so kind as to
assume the position, Mrs Reeves? Over the stool please, bottom well up."

Harriet took a deep breath and lowered herself face down across the padded top.
Her luscious bottomcheeks were turned up and in perfect position for the cane.

"Fasten her down." Two assistant matrons lept do do Ms Klochek's bidding.

Harriet turned her head. "Tying me down isn't necessary. I won't get up."

"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs Reeves--regulations you know. All punishees must be
restrained. This will hurt a bit, I'm afraid, and you might jump up and injure
yourself."

They buckled her wrists and ankles in and drew the strap across the small of her
back. Harriet was completely immobile. Klochek circled her, moving to her front,
still flexing the whippy cane. She paused in front of Harriet, idly swishing the
wand back and forth.

"Eight strokes, Mrs Reeves. After all, someone must pay for that unseemly
outburst."

"What?" I interrupted. "Each of the girls were going to get only 4. Harriet
should get no more than that."

"It's 8. Take it or I strap your clients back down over these stools."

"This is illegal and you know it. Don't push it." The reaction of Klochek's two
assistants had told me that Anna was way out of bounds. It may have been a bluff
but it was a good one.

Her eyes narrowed sharply. Then she shrugged. "Very well, 6, and it stays in
this room."

Harriet raised her head slightly and nodded. I looked at Anna Klochek. "Done."

She wasted no time. Moving to Harriet's rear, she took a stance and lined up the
cane, tapping it gently against Harriet's nether cheeks. Harriet tensed at the
sensation of the cane touching her bared seat. Ms Klochek raised her arm to
shoulder level and whipped the cane down in a blur. It made a distinct whining
sound before it impacted the crowns of Harriet's buttocks with a sharp retort.
The fleshy mounds rippled and a red line appeared.

Harriet told me later that she had been totally unprepared for the searing line
of pure agony that that first swipe of the cane caused her. It felt like a white
hot wire, she said, and the pain spread out from her bottom to engulf her
nervous system totally.

When the stroke hit, Harriet's head flew back, her fingers splayed out, and her
whole body jerked at the shock. Klochek stepped back, savoring the moment.
Harriet had gasped sharply but had not cried out. The blonde matron paced,
swishing the cane, waiting. Harriet said later that this must have been
deliberate. She knew how to time the strokes because the pain actually peaked
several seconds after the cane struck. The skill in timing was to catch the
penitant just as the pain was subsiding, because that was when the dread of the
next one was starting to build.

She took her stance again. Swisshhh...thwack! Harriet writhed. A second red line
appeared. 30 seconds went by. More pacing by Klochek.

SWisshh...thwick! "Arrhh...ah...ah.." Harriet fought to keep her composure under
the onslaught of stinging agony from the whippy cane.

Erin and Allison looked on, horrified. Three vivid weals spaced about half an
inch apart adorned Harriet's bare wriggling fanny.

Sweee.....huick! "Ahh....oh God, please...ah...ah.."

"Beginning to feel it I see, Mrs Reeves." The blonde matron smiled. She was in
her element. "That's good. I like to know that the message is getting through."

She lined up for another stinging cut. Harriet jerked as she felt the gentle
tap-tap -tap, then...

Ssswwwiiissshhh....thwack! The hardest one yet, delivered with the full force of
Anna Klochek's arm.

Harriet lost it. "Yeeeowwww...arhhh....nnnhhh..." she shrieked. A look of
triumph came over Anna Klochek's face.

Klochek didn't rush the last one. I sensed she wanted to savor it. Her obvious
objective--the delivery of maximum pain within the strictures of our little
agreement.

She planted her feet at Harriet's left side then raised the menacing cane for
the sixth time.

Swiiissshhh....thwack! Harriet's body jerked and she let out a plaintive wail. A
sixth weal appeared. Harriet sobbed, partly because of the atrocious pain,
partly in relief that the ordeal was over. She could not control the sobbing
even as she was let up. She had been whipped. Well and truly whipped in every
sense of the word.

****************************************************************

Later as we lay naked in Harriet's apartment, she would tell me that she had
never in her life felt anything that compared to the sheer agony that she had
endured that day. It was like the cane burned through you, she said, imprinting
its fire on your brain. It felt like the world consisted of only two things...a
cane and a bottom. One to bring fire, the other to endure it.

I kissed the weals of course, and spread cold cream on her buttocks. Next I
crouched behind her and stuck my tongue as far as it would go into her musky
sweetness. I flicked the little bud over and over and ran my tongue up and down
the moistened slit. She was curiously on the boil, well juiced, as if the caning
had awakened some primordial need for sex, as if the pleasure could go on and
on, obliterating the fire ignited by the kiss of the cane.

Then she rode me. Too sore to be on her back, she teased my cock to a hard
upright erection with her mouth then with me on my back, she mounted me. She
rode me like a wild woman, alternately upright bucking furiously then lying on
top gringing her hips, squeezing my erection like she wanted to milk it dry.

Later we lay spoon style on our sides and fucked slowly, torturously slowly. I
tried to be careful not to press too hard on her wealed behind. I gave her a
languid shafting that gathered steam slowly. The delicious friction of my hard
penis sliding in and out of her slickened vagina was making us both deleirious
with pleasure. She wanted me to speed up. I resisted. Our climaxes built like a
slow moving freight train gathering speed. When neither of us could stand it any
more, I let go. So did she. Later, still sore and unable to sit comfortably, she
said that the sex we had just had had been the most intense she could remember.

"Still, I don't advise a full swinging bare butt caning as foreplay," she said
as we stood, drinks in hand, on her veranda. It was three days later. I had put
Erin, Allison and Susan on a plane for Miami the evening of the day they had
been flogged. They were only too happy to get off the island.

"What will you do now?" I said. "Still want to stay down here?"

"Despite all that happened, I still rather like it. Do you want to stay in
dreary Ohio?"

"You know, I could get used to this," I mused. Pina colada in hand, sun sinking
into the ocean, gentle breezes wafting. "Is this a proposition, Mrs Reeves?"

"It is. And you can drop the Mrs."

I told her I liked the sound of it. Hand and Reeves, attys. Specialists in
defending smacked bots of all stripes. I told her it was too bad her last name
wasn't Crop or Kane or something. I paid for that last remark, but that's
another story.

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