Chapter 18

When Anna entered the room, she saw the Colonel seated behind a solid-looking table. Feeling cold and vulnerable in her pyjamas, she felt a frisson of fear as she saw the slim, hook-handled school cane lying on the polished surface of the table-top. She knew at once how much that beastly cane would hurt through thin cotton pyjamas.

“Sit down, Anna.”

The Colonel indicated the wooden school desk in front of the table.

His eyes glinted lustfully as he watched the pyjama-clad young woman ease her long legs under the desk.

“I have seen the work you have been doing. It looks very comprehensive to me. Would you say you have learnt a lot while you have been here?”

“Oh yes, Sir, a great deal.” By God, I have too, reflected Anna. Twice as much as she had learnt during her years as a teenager at school.

"Well, the rod is a great stimulus to learning,” said the Colonel with a little smile. He laid his hand over the cane on the desk. “I am going to test you on some of the subjects in which you have been instructed by Miss Beeton. I hope for your sake you have retained a lot of the knowledge that has been inculcated into you.” Again the Colonel laid a hand over the cane on his desk.

He just can’t wait to use it, thought Anna. What a sadistic old lecher he was! Still, she had been caned with worse canes than that ... and they had also been wielded by stronger arms. So, painful and humiliating as it would be, it could not be as bad as some of her experiences in the past. Thus Anna tried to comfort herself to some degree.

“I must tell you, Anna, that if your behaviour does not measure up to my requirements during this afternoon’s lessons, I shall deal with you severely.”

Anna’s heart sank like a stone in a pond. Surely ... surely ... he could not be so cruel!

“I ... u-understand ..., S-Sir ...” she whispered.

“Good,” said the Colonel. “We will get on with your examination.”

Anna braced herself, heart fluttering. Now she had to be more careful than ever. Respectful, obedient, submissive ... to the ‘nth degree’!

“I shall begin with oral questions,” said the Colonel. “Later on this afternoon, you will have a number of written tests.”

“I ... I shall try my very best, Sir,” said Anna earnestly.

“You’d better,” said the Colonel, with evident relish, “Because, for every mistake
you make, this cane will be laid across your bottom, young lady! Understood?”

Anna gulped. “Yes, Sir,” she replied.

The afternoon ahead was beginning to look exceedingly unpleasant.

“From what poem do the following lines come, Anna? Hope springs eternal in the human breast?”

Anna’s brain raced. The subject was English Literature, at which she wasn’t too bad, but the range of it was so wide. Her brain clicked. Got it!

“Essay on Man, Sir” she answered.

“Correct,” nodded the Colonel. “Author?”

“Alexander Pope, Sir.”

“Correct.”

Another hurdle cleared. But how long could she keep up the pace? She had answered the first half dozen questions correctly. Of course, it couldn’t last for ever.

“Who wrote the words ‘Oh daughter of Death and Priapus, our Lady of Pain?” asked the Colonel.

Lucky again! It was an obscure line that had stuck in her mind, on account of the phrase Lady of Pain, no doubt.

“Swinburne, Sir.”

The Colonel raised his eyebrows. “Correct. You have become well read while you have been here, Anna.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Now some Shakespeare. In which of his plays do the characters Benedick and Beatrice appear?”

Anna thought hard. Shakespeare’s plays teemed with people. It was so easy to go wrong. And she did.

“Measure For Measure, Sir.”

“Wrong,” said the Colonel with some satisfaction. He made a note on his pad beside him. “Much Ado About Nothing is the answer. We will continue with the Bard.”

Anna concentrated her mind. However, with such a broad subject, it was impossible not to make some mistakes. Of the next dozen questions, Anna got five wrong. Each time, the error was noted on the pad.

“Right,” said the Colonel at length, “I think that will do for English Literature, Anna. You have, I think it fair to say, done quite well. Yes ... quite well. However, there were some errors and you must pay for them. It’s the only way to try and ensure you don’t make the same errors in the future, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir.” answered Anna meekly. It was better to know that what the Colonel had just said was true. Was this not the method Miss Beeton had employed? And had not Anna learnt vastly under her tuition? Miserably she watched as the Colonel stood up and removed his black jacket. Oh how unfair it was!

“Come out here.” The supple cane tapped the polished top of the table, lightly but insistently, as Anna got up from her desk and went forward. The Colonel came slowly round in front of the table. “Now bend over and touch your toes, girl,” he ordered. His cold eyes brightened with cruel lechery as he watched his young victim obey. Her ample pyjama-clad bottom thrust roundly at him as Anna bent over and reached for her toes.

“You will, of course, remain touching your toes...”

“Yes, Sir ...”

Anna gritted her teeth fiercely. She had had worse... far worse... she told herself as she felt the light tap of the tip of the cane on her waiting flesh.

SSwweepppttt!

The familiar burning, electric-wire pain of the biting cane. Encircling, searing; the tip most searing of all. Anna gasped between clenched teeth. Oh God, no matter how much one had had of it, one could never get acclimatised to the pain. Always it was that bit worse than she expected ... or hoped.

Sswweepppttt!

The next cut came a little lower down that taut curve of her bottom. Equally painful,. A thin streak of blazing fire as the flexible willow cracked across the soft flesh ... then a deep-searing burn ... followed by only a fractional ebbing of the immediate pain. Then one was ready for the next.

Anna felt her buttocks clench involuntarily.

Sswweeepppptt!

Anna’s fingers lifted a few inches off her toes as the third stroke cut across the so-tender overhang of her buttocks. And this time a louder gasp came from between her teeth. Quickly she re-touched her toes and straightened her long limbs. Three to go.

The Colonel was putting everything he had got into each stroke, marvelling at Anna’s stubbornness and fortitude. The delight of caning the bottom of such a luscious 28-year-old woman was beyond description. And to cane her just as hard as he liked! Still, the afternoon’s only just beginning, he said to himself. Before it’s over, I’ll have her squirming and yelling with pain ... and pleading with him for mercy!

Sswweeppptttt!

What a wonderful sound... what a wonderful sight!

This time, the Colonel saw Anna’s curvaceous bottom give a sudden juddering squirm as she absorbed the pain. Good ... there were limits even to this young woman’s stoicism.

Ssswweeeepppttt!

The fifth stroke bit again into Anna’s overhang ... and the blonde head jerked up momentarily and once again the fingertips left the toes. There was a sobbing intake of breath as Anna bent over fully again.

“Ooofff!”

So that’s where it hurts her most, the Colonel thought, and aimed the sixth stroke at precisely the same area.

Sswweeeppptttt!

The Colonel’s aim was inexpert and he caught Anna full across the centre of her bottom. The girl took it with no more than a shudder and a whimper ... and remained bending over.

Six long weals smarted and throbbed and burned, especially where the last inch or two of the cane had bitten. Anna choked back the gall in her throat and blinked away the hint of tears that pricked her eyes. Those weals hurt.

Oh yes, they hurt quite enough!

“Alright girl, you may stand straight,” Anna winced as she came erect; the skin over her bottom seemed to have shrunk. It always felt like that after a caning. “Now go back to your desk.”

Meekly, Anna obeyed, watching the Colonel move back to his chair.

“Right, Anna, we will turn to another subject. French Grammar, I think.”

Anna’s heart sank. Certainly not one of her better subjects ... though Arithmetic was perhaps her worst.

“Define the future of the verb Alder” said the Colonel.

Once again Anna cleared the decks of her mind for action ... and began.

Just think of that cane biting for every mistake, she said to herself severely.

And that thought certainly did seem to stimulate her mental powers to quite a remarkable degree!

However, as is self-evident, no-one can possibly be perfect in one subject, let alone several. Anna certainly would not have claimed to be ... nor would the Colonel have expected it. The whole thing was a kind of charade which both ‘pupil’ and ‘teacher’ played out ... simply for the latter’s sadistic amusement.

After English Literature ...

French Grammar ...

Followed by History ...

Followed by Arithmetic ...

... after four subjects, poor Anna’s bottom carried over thirty throbbing-burning weals. Such was the pain she was suffering, she could scarcely sit down on the wooden seat of her school desk.

Oh God, how much longer was this long drawn-out inhumanity going on?

There was just one tiny crumb of hope. Anna felt that the Colonel’s arm was definitely beginning to weaken ... Biting her lips, she watched as he seated himself again and took up yet another paper.

“Geography ...” he announced.

“P-Please ... Sir ... h-haven’t I had enough ... f-for one afternoon?” Anna heard herself making the plea despite the fact that she knew the futility of it. She knew he wanted her broken, made to grovel and plead… Why add to his enjoyment? All the same, it was something that came bubbling out of her in sheer desperation.

“I don’t understand,” said the Colonel flatly. “Had enough? What is enough, young lady?”

“Sir ... please ... Sir ... you’ve caned me ... s-so much ... I ... I ... just can’t think straight any m-more ...”

“Really? Too bad for you, my dear. We will proceed with Geography ... and exactly the same penalties apply.”

A deep shuddering sob came from Anna and, for a brief moment, she buried her head in her hands. Then she forced herself erect again and tried to think calmly. She must ... absolutely must

“I’m ready, Sir,” she said.

“What,” enquired the Colonel, “is the capital of Malawi?”

Anna’s brains felt like scramble eggs. Malawi? That was one of those new African states. She could never remember about them.

“Mogadishu ...” she said tentatively.

“Wrong,” said the Colonel emphatically. And another note went down on his pad.

A big tear ran down Anna’s cheek. Already, for that simple mistake, she could feel the cane making her squirm with pain.

“Next question,” said the Colonel relentlessly. “What is the average annual export of coffee from Brazil?”

Anna’s mind became a complete blank. She began to sob helplessly.

“Ten questions ... and not a single answer right,” said the Colonel. “I’m shocked at this failure. You deserve the caning you’re going to get.”

“Sir ... please ... Sir ... my b-brain seems to have gone dead ... I don’t know why ... ooohh, please ... I ... I’m s-so ... t-tired ...”

“Come out here, girl. I know a way of making your brain come to life again!”

“No, Sir ... please it won’t ... it c-can’t!” Anna’s voice was high-pitched and wailing. All the same, she got up out of the desk and moved to the front of the Colonel’s table yet once more.

“Bend over ... touch your toes ...”

“Please ... please ... no more ... I’ve tried ... I’ve tried so h-hard ...”

“Bend over, my little beauty!”

The cane was being flexed. ... He watched avidly as his commands were obeyed and the pyjama-clad young bottom was once more presented for his attentions.

Chapter 17


The first lesson of the day ended after one hour. Miss Beeton left the room ... but, previously, had set everyone to learn twenty different lines of Longfellow’s Hiawatha!

“I’ll be testing you when I get back ...”

Silence reigned in the classroom. Every head was bowed.

Concentration was intense. Nowhere more so than amongst those who had just felt Miss Beeton’s strap. They didn’t want another taste!

Anna tried to put pain from her mind and make her brain absorb the words. Oh how difficult it was. Yet, it had to be learnt.

From time to time, she felt rebellious flares of resentment at what she was having to do. However, strenuously, she fought them down. There was no other option than to do as she had been told. To grind her brain to the limit. Other women there had learnt how to do it ... and thus now suffered less.

I must join them, Anna resolved.

I must, I must!

It was the only way ...

From the forests and the prairies,
From the great lakes of the Northland,
From the land of the Ojibways,
From the land of the Dacotahs —

Oh God, what rubbish it was! Yet Anna knew she must learn it.

On the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
Stood the wigwam of Nokomis —

Drivel! Yet having to be impinged on the brain. In order to be recited. Unless one wanted the strap. Almost frenziedly, Anna concentrated her mind. She wanted to rage ... to weep ... yet, somehow, she concentrated her mind.

She was beginning to realise that, in Blackfriars Grange, there was no other way except complete mental and physical submission. Hideous as that realisation was, it had to be faced.

Anna wept silent, bitter tears.

Aware of her defeat.

* * *

Click-clack ... click-clack ... click-clack ...

Then, suddenly, Miss Beeton was back. Seated at her desk.

“Attention!”

All heads came up.

“Anna Dobson, report to the Detention Room in pyjamas immediately.”

A freezing sensation in the brain. Almost a loosening of the bowels. Anna remained seated - petrified.

“Did you hear me, girl?”

Anna tried to collect her wits.

“I ... I ... ah ... I mean ... Miss ... but ... why ... w-why ... M-Miss?” Terror was gripping her like a vice.

“Don’t ask questions, girl. Just do as I say!”

Anna was on her feet. Swaying. Panic surging through her. What could it mean? What was it all about? She had done nothing wrong. Nothing which she had not already been punished for. So ... why had she to report to the Detention Room … and why in pyjamas?

Anna summoned the strength to make it to the door. Then out, along the corridor and upstairs to the dormitory, the sickness of dread rising within her. Inside the empty room, she hurriedly undressed and changed into her pyjamas, all the time wondering what ordeal awaited her in the detention room downstairs.

Such a dreadful place!

So full of hideous memories!

Anna recalled her last visit and almost screamed.

Then, her ‘school’ uniform clothes neatly folded on the end of her bed, she hurried down again until she came to the door of the Detention Classroom. Heart pounding, Anna knocked timorously.

“Come in ...”

Anna turned the handle and the door swung easily open.

Chapter 16

6.30am and the alarm bell sounds at the start of another day at Blackfriars Grange.

Once again, Anna and the other women in her dormitory prepare for another day of misery and humiliation.

Pyjamas off and on with the absurd knickers, followed by the rough cotton blouse with rigid starched collar and tie. Then the grey wool stockings held up by a stiff, deep suspender belt, all securely encased in thick elasticated-leg bottle-green bloomers worn under a bottle-green serge gymslip. Everything was designed to humiliate. And it did. Finally Anna pulled on the clumpy school shoes and grey felt hat, remembering to tuck the elastic behind her ears and under her chin. Very neat, but very uncomfortable.

Anna was ready for class.

And she felt sick at the prospect.

In single file the ‘schoolgirls’ clattered down the corridor to their classroom. Behind her, Anna could hear the other new arrival, Catherine, breathing fast. This was to be her second week. Doubtless, she was feeling even more petrified, thought Anna. It was her fourth week.

Into the dreaded room they went.

It looked the same. It smelt the same.

Small, cramping desks. A blackboard and easel. Miss Beeton’s desk on a dais. And, above all, the punishment stool with before it, hanging on the wall, the dreaded paddles. As was her duty, one of the monitors took them down and oiled them.

Dead silence ... but for fast breathing. And a sob or two from Catherine.

Minutes passed.

Then a tingle of nerves as Miss Beeton’s heels could be heard clicking along the corridor.

In she swept, red hair bouncing, wearing a tight-fitting olive-green dress with calf-length boots to match.

“Good morning, girls!”

So bright, so breezy. Not a care in the world. As if that monstrous place with its iron regime was the most natural thing in the world. Hate burgeoned in Anna’s heart as Miss Beeton smiled at them.

“Good morning, Miss Beeton,” they chorused.

“Now it’s back to work. And I hope there is considerable improvement in the work of some of you ...”

Anna felt herself shudder as Miss Beeton’s swivelling gaze seemed to rest rather too long upon her.

“ ... and, Green, you will stop that noise, or I’ll begin the week by laying a strap across your bottom!”

Wide-eyed, dark-haired Catherine Green pressed a hand to her mouth.

“Latin ...” announced Miss Beeton ... and there was concerted audible moan. It was the most hated subject of all.

“Virgil’s Aeneid, starting at the beginning, each of you will translate a few lines.” A pause. “Now, you’ve all done it before, so there shouldn’t be too many errors. Open your books.”

Anna pushed up the lid of her desk and took out the Aeneid. Opening it, she gazed numbly at its opening lines. Once again, her brain seemed to have become like so much rice pudding!

Arma virumque cano, Troiae qui primus ab oris
Italiam fate profugus Lavinaque venit
Litora —

What, in God’s name, was the translation of that?

A wave of self-pity swept over Anna. They were deliberately given these impossible tasks just so that they would fail them! Just to have a ‘reason’ for punishing them! Oh the monstrous vileness of it!

“Green, you will begin ...”

Anna heard the scrape of her chair as she stood up. There was a brief pause. Thank God it isn’t me, said Anna to herself. But, in due time, her turn must come. Anna almost burst into tears.

“... Arms I sing ...” came Catherine’s controlled voice, “... and the man, who first from the shores of Troy came ...” There was another pause. Anna envied her for having got even this far. She was experienced, of course, that made a lot of difference. But would she fail? Then Catherine resumed. “... fate-exiled, to Italy and her Lavinian strand …”

“Good,” said Miss Beeton perfunctorily. “You may sit down, girl.” She was pleased with the ‘progress’ Catherine had made during her first month in class. Originally, she had been as about as mentally lazy as ... well ... Anna, say. In time, the paddle and the cane had persuaded her to make an unpleasant but necessary effort!

“Next. Patricia.”

Tall Patricia, willowy and graceful, thirty-three years.

- multum ille et terris iactatus et alto
Vi superum, saevae memorem lunonis ob iram

Thus Anna read uncomprehendingly. A panic was already beginning to mount in her. She knew she would fail when her turn came! She listened to Patricia translating.

“ — much buffeted he on sea ....”

“On flood, Patricia.”

“I ... I beg pardon, Miss, on flood and ... and ... f-field ... by ...”

A long pause.

“Well?”

“Er ... oh yes ... by constraint ... of ... of Heaven ... and fell Juno’s unslumbering ire.”

The final words came at a rush.

“Passable.”

Patricia sat down. Was that a sigh of relief she gave? It would not have been surprising.

And so it proceeded, with each woman taking up where the previous one had left off.

The next two made a couple of errors ... and each got three strokes of the leather-covered paddle. Miss Beeton was aware of the difficulties of Latin so was less severe than when dealing with simpler subjects.

The next girl word perfect.

And the next ... or nearly so.

Then the seventh woman made quite a hash of it. Four or five errors. It was young, plump-bottomed Melanie. She was much shorter and plumper than Patricia. Twenty-seven or twenty-eight, Anna guessed. Big breasts were straining through her blouse; fat thighs wobbled. In silence the young woman knelt on the stool.

“Knickers down ...”

Obediently, Melanie’s soft-quivering buttock cheeks, so fulsomely rounded, were nakedly exposed.

“Six strokes,” said Miss Beeton. She was still using the paddle.

The big buttocks clenched convulsively as they waited helplessly for the flame-burn of leather-covered wood on flesh ... and quivered even more.

Gasping and whinnying between clamped teeth, Melanie squirmed frantically as the strokes fell methodically. The wild juddering of the whole of her bottom was a hideous spectacle ... especially for those who still awaited their turn. They all knew just how burningly painful even that paddle could be.

But, bravely, Melanie did not cry out. Moreover, she kept her thighs together and thus managed not to rip her knickers. Red-cheeked but dry-eyed, she returned to her place. It had been quite a good performance. Melanie, though, had had over three months’ experience of the ways of Blackfriars Grange.

The eighth woman was word perfect.

The ninth made a couple of minor errors but escaped. Now Miss Beeton was on the front row. Anna’s heart had begun to pound.

Desperately, she tried to work out which lines would be hers ... but even then, she knew she would make little sense of them.

The tenth woman made more than half a dozen mistakes. Six strokes was her allocation with the paddle. Her gasping cries echoed round the room as her bottom changed from white to a rosy-red hue. She had only been at Blackfriars Grange a month longer than Anna.

Sobbing, knickers at half mast, she stumbled back.

It was Anna’s turn.

Trembling, she stood up. The print swam before her.

En Priamus ... she read. Well, that was fairly easy.

“In Priam,” she said.

“Lo, here is Priam, you stupid girl!” interrupted Miss Beeton.

Sunt hic etian Sua praemia laudi; Oh dear God, what did it mean!

“Er ... er ... f-first praise ... er ... here ... was ... er ... his ...” stammered Anna.

“Good Lord, what on earth does that mean?”

“I ... I don’t q-quite know, Miss ...”

“Don’t know? Of course, you don’t know. Because it is gibberish, Dobson! The correct translation is: ‘Even here, virtue hath her rewards.’ That is simple enough. However, it is quite obvious to me you are still not making enough mental effort!”

“P-Please ... I ... “

“Silence, girl! No virtue in that. And the reward here, Dobson, is the paddle. Come out!”

Wretchedly, Anna stumbled to the front of the class. It was all happening as she knew it must. She began to sob as she positioned herself across the desk. Oh the hideous injustice of it! How could she be expected to translate such rubbish?

“Knickers down ...”

She must try to keep her thighs together.

All would be gazing ... mostly with indifference, few with sympathy ... at her bare bottom. She felt her flesh twitching. Then the moment of panic as her wrists were manacled. Anna was pulled a little forward, her bottom curving.

Ready ...

Down from its place came the paddle again.

A sobbing groan from Anna. She tensed. She clenched her teeth furiously.

Thhwwaaccckkkk!

What good did it do to clench her teeth? At once a yelping cry was torn from her as her head jerked up and back. The pain was too great. Always worse than one had told oneself it would be!

Tthhhwwwaacckkkkkk !

“A-Ahh ... a-a-ahh ... aaaahhhhhhhh!”

Full-sweeping strokes from Miss Beeton. Only during the first week or two was she wont to use anything less.

Tthhwwwaaacccckkkkkkk!

“Aaghh owww o-owww aagghhhh!”

Oh God ... the pain of it ... the pain of it! spreading ... burning deep ...

Thwaaaccckkkkkkk!

“A-A-A-Aggghh ... ooooowwwwwwww ... “

That was four. It was nearly over. But not yet. Anna felt her twisting buttocks clench and clench again in frantic dread as there was a momentary pause before the next stroke. She twisted the other way. Again her buttocks clenched.

It made no difference.

Tthhhwwwwaaaccckkkkkk!

She got it full across her quaking bottom ... and it set her writhing in torment yet again as her gasping yelps rang out.

Ttthhhwwwaaacccckkkkkk!

“Y-Yeeeee aaggh a-a-agghhhhh ... “

The last. Oh thank God, it was the last!

Click ...

Where were her knickers? Incredibly ... somehow . . . this time she had managed to keep her thighs more or less together. That was something. An improvement, one might say. She would not have the chore of mending them that evening. Wriggling, Anna pulled up her knickers and shorts. They fitted tight over her burning flesh. Sobbing, she made her way through a mist of tears to her desk.

“Ahh ... hhhaaa ...”

Oh yes, it was always so painful to put a tender bottom down to the hard wood of one’s desk seat! So difficult not to gasp out.

Burning ...

Oh so tender!

Vaguely, Anna was aware that young Maria had made an equal hash of her translation. Weeping loudly, the pretty, Italian-looking woman was placing herself over the punishment stool.

“Six strokes,” announced Miss Beeton.

“N-No ... ooo ... oooh ... n-no ... p-please ... please ...”

“And Maria, this time I am going to use the paddle!”

“No ... no ... m-merceee ... MERCEEEE ... EEEEEEE!”

It would be the first time for her, thought Anna, as she looked upon the girl’s neatly-rounded, twisting bottom. She felt faintly sorry for Maria. But only faintly. They all had to go through it.

In any event, one had not all that much room for sympathy for others when one had so many troubles of one’s own!

Chapter 15

Another two weeks passed, and once more Anna was summoned to the Colonel’s office, this time in her pyjamas.

“Have you been a naughty girl since I last saw you?” asked the Colonel, aware that the women inmates were sometimes made to remain dressed only in pyjamas as a punishment, often for days or even weeks at a time.

Here it comes, thought Anna. Another game he likes to play. She steeled herself. “Yes, Sir,” she answered.

“So that’s why you are dressed like that,” said the Colonel, grinning.

Anna shrugged. Best get it over with. “Yes, Sir ... I’m sorry Sir … I forgot to fold my school uniform neatly ...”

“I thought you might have been, Anna.” The Colonel continued to grin. “So I brought something with me this time. It’s in my briefcase. Go and get it, young lady.”

Nervously, Anna went over to open the briefcase. It contained just one item ... a wood-and-leather paddle. Resignedly she took it out and walked back to the Colonel.

“You’ve felt one of these before?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir ...”

“Stings, eh? Hurts, eh?”

“Yes, Sir ...”

“More than the palm of my hand?” The Colonel was tapping the paddle against his own palm. The instrument was shaped rather like an over-size table-tennis bat ... a thickish wedge of hard ebony-wood covered by about a quarter of an inch of leather. Yes, thought Anna, that will hurt considerably more than a hand spanking.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied, trying not to lose her resolution. Was he going to have her across his lap again, she wondered. Like the last time? That had been a manual spanking and comparatively easy to take. This time she was obviously going to have to draw on her reserves.

The Colonel stood up. “Bend over and touch your toes, Anna,” he ordered, his voice thickening. “I think it will be more convenient to paddle your bottom that way.”

Anna moved towards the centre of the room. Where was she supposed to bend over, she wondered wretchedly? Not that it made much difference. So she made her own decision and positioned herself so that her buttocks were displayed invitingly as she bent over, stretching her pyjama trousers taut across them as she did so.

The Colonel surveyed the superbly proportioned bottom thus presented to him with the greatest satisfaction. It was a bottom worthy of being spanked... of being paddled. Of being caned, too. Well, no doubt he would do that on another occasion.

“Who is a naughty girl?”

“I ... I am, S-Sir ...”

The Colonel’s hand tightened on the paddle and he stepped into a convenient position. The muscles of Anna’s buttocks also tightened in anticipation and there was a momentary quivering of the soft flesh.

SSPPLLAATTTT!

The paddle fell resoundingly over the centre of the fulsome buttock cheeks. Anna gasped, her fingernails clawing into the arm of the chair.

Yes ... that had hurt and hurt plenty. The spreading pain of a broad paddle was not easy to endure.

“Who is a naughty girl?”

“I ... am ... Sir ...”

SSPPLLAATTTTTTTT!

The Colonel delighted in the sound of the paddle on the naked bottom. He loved, too, the way the soft woman-flesh shook all over, jelly-like at the impact. Above all, he relished the way Anna fought for control, yet could not stop herself squirming and gasping.

The Colonel laid the next two strokes on each buttock cheek in turn ... one stroke swiftly following the other.

SSPPLLAAATTTT!

SSPPLLAAATTTTT!

Both cheeks instantly took on a deeper red hue.

SSPPLLAATTTTT!

SSPPLLAAATTTTT!

SSPPLLAAAAATTTTTTT!

SSSSPPPPLLLLAAAATTTTTTTTT!

Anna gasped more loudly, squirmed her shapely bottom more vigorously.

Oh what a beauty, thought the Colonel. It was the purest joy to whack such a lovely arse as hard as he could ... and as often as he wished!

“Oww ... aaah ... owwww ... OOOOWWWW!”

Tough as she was, the deep-burning pain was beginning to get through to Anna. The paddle was never a laughing matter, that she knew from previous meetings with it.

SSPPLLAAATTTTTT! On the right cheek ...

SSPPLLAAATTTTTT! On the left cheek ...

“Oh ... OWWWW ... S-Sir ... please ... S-Sir ... ppllee ... eeease ...”

“It’s hurting, Anna?”

“Yes ... ahhhh ... yes, Sir ...”

“Good ...”

SSPPLLAAATTTTTT!

“... it’s meant to ...”

SSPPLLAAATTTTTT!

“Ooowww ... oowwwwwwwwww!”

Oh how deliciously that bottom was squirming! And oh how Anna twisted and kicked!

SSPPLLAAATTTTTT!

“Yooowwwww ... oww ... oowww!”

The paddle was now descending on the middle of Anna’s bottom again. In the same place as it had started. Where the flesh was getting more and more burningly tender.

SSPPLLAAATTTTTT!

“Yeee ... ooowwww ... oowwww ... aaahhhggg!”

SSPPLLAAATTTTTT!

“Mercy ... ahhhh ... mercy ... S-Sir ... I haven’t been all that n-naughty ...”

“No? Who says not?”

SSPPLLAAATTTTTT!

SSPPLLAAATTTTTT!

All across the centre. Each one now making Anna yell out with pain ... each one setting the whole of her lush bottom juddering wildly.

SSSPPPPPLLLAAATTTTTT!

SSSPPPLLLUUUTTTTTTTT!

“Merccccc ... eeeeeeee!”

But the Colonel was not in the mood for mercy. He could not remember having enjoyed himself so much for a very long time. He would paddle this woman so soundly she wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week!

He raised the paddle once more, ready to smack it down hard on each reddened cheek

“Sir?”

“You may get up, girl, if you wish ...”

If she wished! Anna got up rapidly and turned to see the sweating figure of her tormentor.

Chapter 14

The following week, Anna found herself once more standing in front of the Colonel. It was nearly time for her first sentence review.

“You’re a very pretty girl. But a very naughty one, too, I think. How long have you been here now?”

“Four weeks, Sir…” Already it seemed more like four months or even years since her arrival in this awful place, where each day was a living nightmare of a humiliating strict school regime of lessons, rules and corporal punishment for even the slightest infringement.

“Then no doubt you are beginning to learn to behave yourself and be a good girl in future.”

“Oh, yes, Sir… I’m really trying so hard, I really am. I’ve been ever so good since I came here.” Anna found herself pleading like child in the desperate hope of getting her sentence reduced.

“I’m sure you are,” grinned the Colonel lecherously. “And what happens to naughty girls, Anna?”

Anna bit her lips. “They ... they are punished, Sir.”

“That’s right. So I think I shall punish you. For having been naughty in the past. Before you came here. Yes ... I remember you were very naughty indeed, weren’t you? However, I shall not be too severe with you, young lady. I am an understanding man. Just a spanking, I think…”

Anna stood before him in her ridiculous schoolgirl uniform, clenching her hands in despair, her cheeks colouring at the shame and utter hopelessness of her situation. Was there no limit to the utter misery she had to endure? Yet she knew must submit to this man’s demands, however awful, if she was to have any hope of getting her sentence reduced.

“Take off you shorts, girl. And your knickers. Then get across my knees,” said the Colonel, in as calm a voice as he could contrive. Inside him the lust was throbbing fiercely. What a delight it was to be able to give such an order to a young beauty like this! To a curvaceous 28-year-old!

Eagerly the Colonel watched as Anna slipped her elasticated shorts down her long thighs to her ankles, then stepped out of them. Whether she took her knickers off or not would make no difference to the spanking. But, all the same, off those knickers were coming ...

Down they went with a wriggling of the hips... and Anna was naked from the waist down. Naked, that is, but for her schoolgirl socks and plimsolls.

“Come across my knees, Anna ...”

Trembling, Anna obeyed. She was aware that the ‘punishment’ she was about to receive, was a mere flea-bite compared with that which was normally her lot. But there was a shaming humiliation in going across this man’s knees which was far worse that the kind of shame she normally experienced.

But she had to do it ... she had to!

Anna prostrated herself face down over the dark serge thighs and felt a hand grip her waist. She gazed at the floor and gritted her teeth again.

At least, it wouldn’t hurt all that much.

But ... oohhh ... how humiliating it was!

The Colonel licked his lips, raised his podgy palm and began to slap the luscious bottom.

Slap ... slap ... slap ... slap ...

Slap ... slap ... slap ... slap

Oh how excitingly the young flesh quivered like jelly! Oh what a lovely feeling it was to smack that ample bottom!

And to smack it again and again and again and again ...

Slap ... slap ... slap ... slap ...

Slap ... slap ... slap ... slap ...

A pity, though, she hardly made a sound ... even if he hit as hard as he could. She didn’t wriggle much either. Not like she had done when he had cracked the cane across her backside. Ah well ... he could do that again soon. At the moment, it was satisfying enough to give her this spanking.

Slap ... slap ... slap ... slap ...

Slap ... slap ... slap ... slap ...

Slap ... slap ... slap ... slap ...

First one cheek ... and then the other ...

Left and right ... left and right ...

For as long as he liked ...

Yes... he could slap this luscious young woman’s bottom for just as long as he liked!

It was getting a shade pinker. But only a shade. It must be slapped more and more. To make it red. To make it glow. The Colonel wished his hand was harder and flatter, so that he could give the woman the kind of spanking he really wished.

For her part, Anna absorbed the slaps of the soft palm almost indifferently. It was as nothing. There was only the shame. But what did that matter in the short term? As long as the filthy swine was enjoying himself, nothing mattered. Perhaps she should wriggle more... to simulate she was suffering? Yes... maybe that would be a good idea. He would like to think he was hurting her.

Anna began to squirm her bottom seductively as each slap fell. Also to gasp out for mercy ...

“P-Please ... oh ... please ... Sir ... p-please ... no ... no ... m-more ...”

The Colonel was delighted by the sights and the sounds. Perhaps he was really getting through to this girl at last. Keep on slapping ... keep on ... hard ... hard ...hard!

My God, thought the Colonel, my palm is beginning to burn! Surely her bottom was beginning to burn too!

But Anna continued to wriggle of her own accord. And to gasp out in pretended pain. She knew that was what the Colonel wanted ... so she gave him what he wanted. The swine!

After two or three minutes, the Colonel’s arm began to tire and his flabby palm to burn too much. He gazed, with slack mouth, down on Anna’s squirming-quivering bottom. Such a beautiful bottom! Six more slaps as hard as he could ...

Slap ... slap ... slap ... slap ... slap ...slap!

Then The Colonel stopped. He was panting, red-faced, his eyes a shade glassy. Oh God ... how he was enjoying himself!

“You ... you are ... a naughty ... naughty girl...” he panted. “And ... and ... for that ... you ... ahhhh ... yes ... you have ... b-been ... punished ...”

“Yes ... Sir ... thank you Sir ... I deserved to be punished...” responded Anna. She knew that was required of her under such circumstances.

The Colonel’s hand ran over the soft-warm buttock cheeks. Oh what a delightful feel was there! Ripe fulsomeness ... glowing warmth ... secular femininity!

Ah yes ... sexual femininity ...

The Colonel licked his lips, just in time to stop himself actually dribbling. Why should he not indulge himself a little further?

Softly, lightly, he ran his hand over the warm buttock cheeks. Oh ... oh ... how delicious that was! Oh Yes ... yes! To rub ... and then squeeze. Just gently squeeze. Oh ... oh what a superb bottom it was!

Anna stood nakedly submissive.

She felt disgust. But, on the other hand, nothing was quite as difficult as she had expected it would be.

It had been a most enchanting afternoon.

The first of many ...

Chapter 13

When the Colonel returned to the classroom twenty minutes later, Anna had stopped sobbing but her head was still over the textbook. She was writing away as fast as she could.

“Time's up, Anna,” he said, taking his seat behind the desk. “Bring up your work.”

Pale-cheeked and eyes red-rimmed, Anna got up and handed in the sheet of paper with the textbook. She was aware she had not quite finished and hoped there were not too many mistakes. Unless one had been an expert linguist, it was virtually impossible to complete the set-piece in time. And Anna was no expert.

The Colonel tut-tutted when he saw the passage was not complete. Then, using another 'crib', he began to mark the errors. Time and again his blue pencil slashed and each time it did so, Anna seemed to flinch a little.

“Another poor effort,” he said gravely, when he had finished marking. “You don't seem at all up to your work today, girl. What is the explanation?”

“I... I don't know, Sir,” answered Anna weakly. “I'm t-trying very hard, Sir.” She knew it was no use making excuses. They were never accepted.

“But obviously you are not trying hard enough.” The Colonel looked almost sorrowful.

“P-please, Sir...” began Anna. After such a spanking, she was well aware that any subsequent punishment would be doubly painful.

“So,” continued the Colonel, ignoring her interruption, “I think the time has come to stimulate your grey matter...”

“Oh no, please... No,” she begged. “Plee....eease, Sir...”

“Silence, girl! Bend over my desk and take your pants down. You're getting a taste of the paddle!”

Anna gulped, her hands clenching and unclenching. But she didn't hesitate more than a moment two to obey the order. She bent across from the front of the desk and pulled down her thick cotton bloomers and baggy knickers once more. The Colonel picked up the paddle and moved around and surveyed the rosy-hued bottom. A very deep rosy colour.

“Grip tight,” he said. Anna's knuckles clenched white on the far edge of the desk. "You're getting a dozen.” The bottom flesh gave a convulsive quiver. “Any interference and you get the stroke again plus two extra. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” whispered Anna. That routine was familiar to her. She gritted her teeth. It was going to be difficult with her bottom so burning-sore... and she certainly didn't want any extra.

Splatt!

The leather-covered paddle cracked down across both buttock cheeks. It wasn't a particularly thick one, but it made Anna gasp and squirm quite adequately. An even deeper-hued welt overlaid the rosy background.

Splatt!

This time a little lower down the curve of the bottom.

“Oh... owww!” gasped Anna, squirming even more. Of course, the paddle didn't hurt as much as the cane but, being so tender, it almost seemed to. Anna's knuckles grew even whiter.

Splatt!

Lower still... almost to the join of the buttocks and thighs.

“OH... ow... oww!”

Oh how deliciously it makes her squirm, the Colonel thought. If I wanted to, he thought, I could give her twice this number.

Spplatt!

“Owwwww!”

He caught the Anna right across the join of the buttocks and she lost her grip of the desk for an instant.

Skilfully, he swung the paddle again and caught her in precisely the same place.

Spplatt!

“OOOWWW... OOOWWW!”

This time Anna did lose her grip and one arm came flying back involuntarily. But only for a moment. Quickly Anna got a grip again but her bottom was still squirming when the sixth stroke fell. Deliberately, for the third time in succession, the Colonel laid it on in precisely the same place.

Spplatt!

“Yeeooowww... aahh... OOWWW!”

Gasping, crying out, Anna squirmed right down to her knees on the floor and clasped her hands to her wriggling, jerking bottom.

“M-Mercy... mercy... Sir... plee... please...” begged Anna.

She was not so much begging for him to cease the paddling (no chance!) but not to continue to lay it on in exactly the same place.

The Colonel had no intention of doing so, but that had nothing whatsoever to do with Anna's pleas. He simply had other ideas as to how he was going to proceed with the last half dozen.

Meanwhile, with a kind of desperation, Anna had got up off the floor and flung herself back over the desk. She must be ready for the stroke to come. Or else.

“Take your knickers right off, girl,” he ordered. He was much enjoying himself. Certainly, already, Anna was going to find it painful to sit down for the next twenty-four hours.

The dark bloomers and knickers were around Anna's ankles and she stepped out of them and kicked them to one side. A deep sob shook her. She knew what was to happen.

“Straddle your legs... wide...” came the order.

Feeling, as ever, the shame of her action, Anna did so, displaying herself flagrantly. Though she had to do it scores of times before, her cheeks till seemed to burn as deeply as her bottom.

“Wider than that...”

Anna complied, gritting her teeth even tighter. What was to come was just as painful, if not more so, than the repeated strokes on the lower part of the overhang.

With seeming casualness, the Colonel gazed on the spectacle before him. Delicious. Quite delicious. He swung the paddle and laid it across the very top of Anna's left thigh. On the tender-white inside of the thigh.

Anna cried out in anguish, head jerking back... yet somehow she maintained her grip.

“Oh... oh... God... h-have... mercy!”

Again the paddle swung and this time it fell across the top of the right thigh. The perfect counterpart to the stroke which had just fallen across the left.

Another terrible cry from Anna. Another despairing plea. Yet, in her heart, she knew she would get no mercy.

The next four strokes, which fell at measured intervals, were cruel indeed. Each one had Anna squirming down to her knees on the floor, clasping her hands to her tormented flesh. For each of the two strokes on each of the thighs fell in precisely the same place. On the very tenderest flesh... which got even more tender each stroke! Little wonder that Anna cried out in such anguish or that her pleas grew more frantic. When it was at last over, Anna remained on her knees in front of the desk, her face buried in her hands, the hot tears trickling through her fingers. She wept not only on account of the unrelenting pain but because of the sheer inhuman injustice of the treatment she had received. There was no rhyme or reason for it. Yet, of course, she dare not... would not think of... complaining. Rather to the contrary.

“Have you anything to say, girl?” came that cruel, calm voice from above her.

“Mmmff... mmmfff... th-thank y-you, Sir for c-correcting m-me... mmmfff...! One never, never got used to it ...

“Leave your knickers off,” said the Colonel, going back to his own chair. He watched as Anna settled her burning bare bottom down on to the hard rough wood of her desk seat. Gingerly as she did it, she simply could not help crying out on contact.

“I hope that will concentrate your mind better next time you have a French lesson,” he said.

“Y-Ye... ss... Sir,” agreed Anna, nodding her head. Would it, though, she wondered? In any event. this monster could always find some other excuse for tormenting her! She simply could not check her tears.

The Colonel realised this. For the moment, Anna had her fill. There were times when it was quite useless to give orders. A balance had to be preserved.

“Right, young lady,” he said, “we will take a short break before resuming. Go and stand in the corner until I return.”

Gasping again, Anna got up and walked stiffly across the room and stood in the corner, automatically placing her hands on the top of her head. It was the prescribed place for them under such circumstances. The Colonel walked after her and then tucked the hem of Anna's gymslip into her waistband. Bright-hued, glowing, the ample young buttocks were fully exposed. He surveyed them with unabashed satisfaction. Naughty schoolgirls deserved to be spanked! Perhaps, he thought to himself, I'll finish off the morning, later on, with a touch of the cane. That should really have her yelping!

So, with that happy thought, he left the young woman sobbing her heart out in the corner of the room.

Needless to say, Anna was in exactly the same position when the Colonel returned. Her tightly-rounded bottom cheeks were still the same bright hue but her sobs had ceased. He saw her give a shudder of apprehension as he closed the door behind him. She was aware that her ordeal of the morning was not yet over. It was simply a question of what form that ordeal took.

“You may go back to your desk,” he said. “No need to put your pants on again.” he added as she bent to pick them up from off the floor.

Anna resumed her seat with a little gasp.

“Spelling” he announced, opening a dictionary before him.

Anna sat rigidly erect, biting her lower lip furiously, striving to check her tears and concentrate her mind. Spelling mistakes were punishable. Usually one stroke for every mistake in a word. Plus one extra. But strokes with what, wondered Anna. The instrument varied. The Colonel clarified the situation but did not exactly put Anna at her ease by taking down and placing the slim, hooked-handled cane on top of his desk. Oh God, the thought of that on her so-tender flesh! Anna felt her buttocks clench convulsively upon the hard wooden seat where they rested.

“Philosophy...” he said.

Anna, taking her time, got it right.

“Lilliputian...”

Anna, taking her time, got it wrong. One L and two P's.

The Colonel explained the error with a little frown and picked up the cane. He stood up, flexing it lightly. “Come out here, girl,” he ordered. Biting her lower lip even more furiously, Anna obeyed. Hideously reluctant as she was, she dare do nothing else. Sterner penalties awaited any delay, let alone disobedience. “Bend over and touch your toes,” came the second order. And again it was obeyed.

Her gymslip rode right up to expose the taut, rose-and-red cheeks. The Colonel sawed the cane across them gently, seeing them twitch with dread.

“How do you spell 'Lilliputian'?” he asked, with seeming calm.

“L... I... double L ... “ began the girl. And at that point where she had made her first mistake, the cane rose and fell swiftly across her bottom. With an anguished yelp, Anna jerked instantly erect, clasping both hands to the thin, twin-tracked weal just raised.

“Ohh... oh... ooowww... ooowww” she gasped, squirming this way and that.

“Yes... double L,” said the Colonel. “Don't forget again. Bend over... and continue.”

Anna bent over again. “I...” she began, “P...”

Again the cane whiplashed across her curving bottom and once more she gasped and squirmed with pain as her hands pressed urgently.

“Yes... one P. Continue...”

Anna bent and touched her toes, spelling out the letters until the word was completed. And as it was, the cane fell for a third time.

“OWW... OOWW!” cried the girl, squirming almost to her knees. The Colonel had deliberately given it to her with all the force of his right arm. Oh, by God, how he loved to make a girl squirm like that ... to see the burning agony in her flesh as she jerked and juddered, gasping out with pain. Oh yes, yes... there was nothing quite like it!

“Back to your place,” he said, putting the cane on the desk and resuming his seat.

Anna, now sobbing again, walked stiffly away. It seemed as if the combination of hate, despair and self-pity in her heart must burst it. No one could have been more aware that the sadist in whose power she was could make her suffer as much and for as long as he wanted!

Fifteen minutes later Anna, weeping copiously and pleading for mercy, was touching her toes for the fifth time that morning with a dozen or so bright red weals criss-crossing her buttock cheeks.

The Colonel regarded Anna's curving hindquarters. He picked up the cane and came round the desk. The pleasures of power, the pleasures of inflicting pain, were indeed unique!

“Now, where were we?” he asked in his usual benign fashion. The cane was still in his hand, the woman's bottom was still curved taut for his attention. She was trembling and sobbing, not surprising after such a spanking, followed by the paddle and then the cane.

“I... I was spelling 'kaleidoscope' S-Sir,” answered Anna.

“And got it wrong in three places, I believe?”

“Y-er... ess... Sir...”

How deliciously the buttocks clenched and re-clenched as the cane swished menacingly! What a joy to have such a 'schoolgirl' to punish as one wished! Anna was certainly having just about the toughest classroom session the Colonel had ever held.

“Start again then,” he said casually, measuring the curving buttock cheeks. He had already explained to Anna where she had gone wrong.

“K...” began the young woman.

Instantly the cane lashed down and bit, sending Anna squirming to her knees.

“Oww... owww .. oooowwwww...”

“That's right this time,” he said. Previously Anna had begun with a 'C'.

“'A'... mmmfff... mmmfff .. 'L'... mmfff...” continued a sobbing Anna as she bent yet again. “'E'... “

Once more the cane cracked down. Once more Anna yelped and squirmed.

Up again .. only to bend over again ...

“'I'... er .. er...'D'... mmmfff .. 'O'...”

For the third time the cane whistled and bit. Ssswweee... ccraaaccckkkk!

“Yer... aaah... ooowww... aahhh... OOOWWWW!” cried Anna on her knees once more, thrashing about on the carpet, hands clasping and grasping. She was fast approaching the end of her considerable nervous and physical endurance.

“Finish the word, young lady,” ordered the Colonel relentlessly. He was aware that she was virtually at the limit, but there was still one stroke to come... and she was going to get it!

Breasts heaving, her contorted features red with tears, Anna somehow dragged herself up, then bent and touched her toes.

“Continue...” said the Colonel, a thin, sadistic smile on his lips.

“'S'... 'C'... 'O'... 'P'... 'E'... “ spelled out Anna laboriously. Then, in a vain attempt to avoid what she knew must be coming, her shapely bottom twisted to one side. But she escaped nothing. The lashing cane caught her fair and square to send her writhing to her knees again.

“Oh... agh... ohhh... pleease Sir... ohh... h-have m-mercy have... mercy...” sobbed the girl.

She was quite defeated. Yet, strangely, perhaps one might think, she no longer felt any active resentment at what was being done to her. She simply wanted it to stop. For the whole thing to be over. Nothing else mattered. The repetitive pain was just too much for her.

“Stand up, girl,” ordered the Colonel, “and spell the word in total.”

Anna forced herself up, heaving with sobs, yet striving for some composure. It didn't matter that she had been utterly humiliated, that she was naked from the waist down. All that mattered was to get the spelling right.

“Any mistakes,” said the Colonel, flexing the cane, “and you'll go over my desk and get an extra half dozen. Understood?”

“Yess... Sir..” whispered the young woman. Oh God, she must get it right!

Carefully... oh so carefully... while the Colonel watched and smiled thinly, Anna spelt out the word letter by letter.

“Correct,” he said, replacing the cane on his desk.

Anna's relief was so great that a loud sob burst from her. The Colonel's smile broadened a little. He re-seated himself on his desk chair.

“Well, you have been a very careless and naughty girl this morning, haven't you?” he said.

Anna nodded her agreement. “Y-yes, Sir.” she answered. She would have agreed to anything. Oh God, how those thin weals throbbed and burnt across her tender flesh!

Chapter 12

The Colonel entered one of the classrooms. Behind the desk stood a blackboard and on top of the desk were some text books. Also, a single-thonged strap and a slim cane with a hooked handle. In front of it a schoolchild's desk had been placed.

The strap was mild compared with the leathern paddle normally used; the cane was half the weight of the one used in training. Though not severe, they stung a girlish bottom adequately and also had the advantage of being used with frequency, since damage was slight.

Shortly after he had seated himself, there came a knocking on the door.

“Come in ...”

Anna Dobson entered. She was pale, tense and nervous as she advanced tentatively towards the desk, dressed in the standard 1930s style schoolgirl uniform worn by all female inmates: rough cotton blouse with rigid starched collar and tie; grey wool stockings, all securely encased in thick elasticated-leg bottle-green bloomers worn under a bottle-green serge gymslip. Very neat, but very uncomfortable.

“Anna Dobson reporting, Sir,” she said. Then she bit her lower lip. How she hated these sessions! The humiliation of them was as bad as the pain of them. The fact that she had been at the Centre five weeks seemed to make no difference. The Colonel regarded the girl with what might have been taken for fatherly kindness. How enchanting Anna looked! Though actually twenty-eight, she could easily have been taken for sixteen or seventeen, especially dressed as she was. The eternal schoolgirl!

“Good morning, Anna.”

“Good morning, Sir ...”

The Colonel saw that her hair, long and thick, had been plaited into two pigtails. Each had a pale blue ribbon at the end. The schoolgirl uniform was certainly effective in humiliating the women prisoners and making them feel inferior. It was, it seemed, yet another way of guaranteeing that they would feel embarrassed as well as being extremely hot and itchy to wear, particularly whenever they were required to exert themselves.

How delightful ... and how ridiculous she looked!

“Take your seat, girl,” said the Colonel.

“Yes, Sir ... “

Anna eased herself into the small desk. On top of it, as usual, were paper and pen. She trembled inwardly, sure in the knowledge that however hard she tried ... whether she succeeded or failed ... she would suffer only humiliation and pain in that room.

“We will begin with the poem I set you to learn last time,” said the Colonel. “Write it down on the paper in front of you.”

“Yes, Sir ... “

Anna bowed her dark head to the task, picking up the pen. It had been quite a long poem of some twenty-four lines ... and some difficult words. She had read it every night since her last lesson and was fairly confident that all would be well. She wrote the lines with care. Slowly, but not too slowly. Accurate or not, she could still be punished for bad writing or taking too long over a task. At last, after a last look through, she raised her head.

“Finished, Sir ...”

“Bring it here then, girl.”

She stood up and advanced to the desk, conscious as ever of the brooding male eyes upon her. Eyes of cruelty. How she hated them. And how they made her tremble inside!

“Yes... that seems very good,” said the Colonel, having read the poem right through. He was a little disappointed that the woman had done so well. Still, there was time in plenty. She must have worked hard to get it right. He picked up one of the textbooks beside him and handed it to her.

“Arithmetic,” he said perfunctorily. “Open at page forty-three and answer the six questions set there. You have exactly twelve minutes.” The Colonel smiled inwardly. Arithmetic was not one of Anna's better subjects, especially when she was put under the pressure of time. He watched her scuttle back to her desk. It would not be long, he said to himself, before those knickers would be down!

In that, he was to be proved right but, since he was completely in control of the situation, it was not exactly unexpected.

“Time's up,” he said at the end of the allotted period. “Bring your work up here.”

Pale, biting her lower lip again, Anna did as she was told. She had not even started on the last question and she was sure some of the others were incorrect. The humiliation was about to intensify, the pain to begin. Silently and apprehensively she stood by the desk while the Colonel gravely studied the answers to the various sums, marking them from a 'crib' he had beside him.

“I'm afraid that's not very good,” he said at last, “Not at all. One question not even started and three of the answers wrong. That means you got only two right, doesn't it?”

“Yes, Sir,” whispered Anna. The knuckles of her clenched hands were white.

“I think you must agree that it is only right that you should be punished for such bad work...”

“Yes, Sir...” came another whisper.

The Colonel paused. “I know arithmetic is one of your weak subjects, so I shall make allowances. Mind you, I can't go on doing so. If you don't soon improve, I shall have to take sterner measures. To ensure that you do improve. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir ... “

“So, this time, I am going to give that bottom of yours a sound spanking. If you had been as bad at any other subject, it would have been the paddle or the cane. And it will be as far as arithmetic is concerned in future. Come here, girl, and get across my knees.”

The Colonel swivelled his chair sideways as the young woman came round the desk. Of course, he could have imposed any punishment he liked. He opted for a spanking simply because he felt like giving one at that moment. Anna's lips quivered, but there was a certain relief in her dark eyes. She had expected worse. On the other hand there was, somehow, an additional humiliation about a hand spanking. Silently she stretched herself across the waiting thighs and clenched her teeth. Oh God, what an existence she had to endure! How could fate have been so cruel to her? She might, at that very moment, have... have been... no... no... she mustn't think of it! She must not think of what her life had been like before prison. She felt her gymslip being pulled right up and then her bloomers were pulled down, followed by her knickers. Right down to below her knees.

The Colonel gazed happily at the ample, curving spread of her buttocks. So unlike those of an actual schoolgirl. He put his left hand and arm tightly round Anna's waist and ran his hand lightly over the unmarked flesh. He felt it quiver at his touch.

“You will try harder in future, girl,” he said.

Then he began to smack the helpless, plump, naked bottom. He smacked each cheek alternately then every third slap fell across the rear, partly on both cheeks. The Colonel slapped hard, hurting his palm. Not that he cared about that. The knowledge that Anna's bottom hurt more was ample compensation.

Left ... right ... centre ...

Left ... right ... centre ...

The pattern continued, the rounded cheeks growing redder and redder. Soon Anna's bottom began to wriggle, soon she was beginning to gasp at the slaps. Ten or a dozen she could take in silence, but when the spanking went on and on, it was different.

Smaaacck! Smaacckkk! Smaaccckk!

“Oww ... ooofff ... ooowwww ... “

The Colonel's eyes were glittering, there was a little sheen of sweat forming on his brow. He was determined to make this one of the most severe spankings he had ever administered, no matter how much the palm of his hand was burning. The sight of that wriggling bottom, with the cheeks constantly clenching and unclenching, was wonderful. And the sound of Anna's gasps and cries only added to his enjoyment. Yes ... this was to be a spanking she would remember.

Smaaacck! Smaaaccckkk! Smaaaccckkk!

“Ohhh ... oowwww .. awwww ... oh ... please ... please ...”

Smaaaccck! Smaaaccckkk! Smaaaccckkk!

How many slaps had he laid on? He had almost lost count. It must be thirty at least. Oh God, how his hand was burning! Still, he mustn't ease up. Damn it, he would give the woman fifty before he stopped. Oh how beautifully pink and red her bottom was getting!

On and on he went, gritting his teeth, striving to keep up the force of his smacks. By the way Anna wriggled and gasped, it seemed he was succeeding.

That must be forty, he said to himself. Then he steeled himself for a final ten, giving them all he'd got left.

“Owww... Owww... Oh... Pleeease….. Sir... No more... Please Sir...”

Left... right... centre...

Left... right... centre...

The soft flesh juddering and jerking madly... Redder and redder...

Come on! Six more... as hard as you can!

SMACCKK! SMACCKK! SMACCKK!

SMACCKK! SMACCKK! SMACCKK!

The Colonel slumped back, chest heaving. He was quite done in. His hand slipped from Anna's waist and she slid to her knees on the floor, hands clasped to her burning bottom, weeping uncontrollably. The former was an action strictly forbidden after a punishment except in the classroom. Not that those clasping hands did much to stem the burning pain. It was an instinctive gesture more than anything else.

Oh God, it was the worst spanking she had ever had! The beast... all simply for his own amusement! And, worst of all, the morning had but just begun. Anna knelt there, sobbing uninhibitedly. They were sobs not only of pain but of self-pity.

“Pull your knickers up, girl,” the Colonel ordered when he had recovered himself somewhat. His heart was still pounding furiously. My word, that really had been a spanking! No wonder the woman was weeping like that. He watched as, wincing, Anna pulled up her knickers and bottle-green serge bloomers, while she still remained by his chair.

“Mmmmfff... ugh... mmmmfff... ugh... “

“Now go back to your desk...”

“Mmmmfff... uughh... uuughhh... mmmffff... uughh... uggh...”

Anna stumbled as she walked away, hands still pressed to her bottom. A louder gasp came from her as she seated herself. Through a haze of tears she saw the Colonel gazing at her impassively.

“You will try harder in future, won't you?” he said.

“Y-Yer... esss... mmfff... mmfff...” came the sobbing answer.

“Wipe your eyes and stop that noise. Anyone would think you had a real good hiding.”

Anna strove to control her sobs. Could this monster even faintly imagine what it was like for a woman of her age to have a spanking like that? Her bottom seemed even more on fire than if she had a twenty-stroke paddling!

The Colonel rose and stepped down from his desk, bringing with him another textbook. He opened it and placed it on Anna's desktop.

“French,” he announced. “You will translate the whole of the passage on page thirty-eight. Write it down carefully. And, I hope for your sake, there aren't too many errors. I shall be back in twenty minutes.”

He left the classroom with Anna, still sobbing, head bent over the textbook, her pen already poised. She was better at French than arithmetic, but not all that much better!

Chapter 11

“Punishment dress for one week. Report to Matron straight away and ask her to issue you with some.”

The Governess’s words had barely registered with Anna before she was dismissed. Only two weeks into her sentence and already she was on report for failing yet another dormitory inspection despite several warnings. Worse still, she was about to suffer the humiliation of having to wear a specially-designed punishment costume for a week. A whole week, just because she was a few seconds late making her bed that morning.

Later, upstairs in the storeroom, Anna stood facing the Matron and one of the younger wardresses, nervously fingering the seam of her uniform, not wanting to take the punishment garment held out for her to put on.

“Are you going to do as you’re told and put this on, Dobson?” Matron’s voice was beginning to sound impatient.

Close to tears, the tall 32-year-old woman shook her head defiantly. She had already witnessed one of the other inmates dressed in the absurd outfit known as the ‘Bad Bunny’ suit because of a pair of large rabbit ears attached to the hood of the ill-fitting one-piece costume and dreaded the prospect of suffering the same awful embarrassment. Made of stretched nylon material, it was designed to be worn so that it buttoned up at the back but left the buttocks exposed as an added humiliation. The sleeves ended in fingerless mittens thus rendering the wearer helpless but looking and feeling foolish and humiliated while facilitating the application of corporal punishment. The thought of being like that for a whole week was too much for Anna.

“If you don’t get undressed, we’ll have to get someone to help us do it for you,” said the other, much younger woman. Nancy Thomas wasn’t much older than Anna, yet still addressed her like a naughty child instead of someone her own age.

“I can’t wear that.” Anna’s voice was little more than a whisper. Biting her lower lip in trepidation, she raised her large grey eyes pleadingly to the mistress. It was humiliating to have to plead but she desperately did not want to have to wear such a ridiculous outfit.

“I’m afraid it’s the Governess’s orders, Dobson. Now do as you are told and get undressed. You don’t want to make things worse by having to be undressed as well, do you?”

Anna shook her head, aware of the hopelessness of her situation. With a groan of despair, she began to slowly undress under the watchful gaze of the two women; first unbuttoning the front of her uniform with fumbling fingers, then removing her shoes, socks, tie and blouse until she stood in just her underwear. For a moment she hesitated, not wanting to undergo the shame of appearing naked in front of the other women but knowing she had to take everything off, slid the elasticated waistband of her knickers down her thighs and stepped out of them. When finally she unfastened the clasp of her bra, Anna stood silently, arms clasped in front of her, eyes lowered in shame.

Nancy Thomas handed her a diaper and a pair of orange rubber pants. “These first.”

“Oh no, please!” Anna protested. “Have I got to wear them?”

“We don’t want any accidents, do we,” said Nancy mockingly. “Put them on, Dobson…”

“Please, Miss…..”

Nancy thrust the diaper and rubber pants into Anna’s hands. “Get them on girl, this instant!”

Hey eyes filled with tears, Anna took the diaper and fastened it between her legs. Choking with sobs, Anna then inserted one white limb after the other into the rubber pants and pulled them slowly up her limbs thighs, feeling the elastic snapping and clinging against her flesh, until at last she was left standing in the rubber training pants feeling utterly humiliated.

Anxious to get the ordeal over as soon as possible, she reluctantly took the one-piece punishment suit from the senior matron and began putting it on, first one leg and then the other.

“You’re putting it on back to front,” Matron observed scornfully. “It’s supposed to fasten at the back!”

Confused, Anna stepped out of it and tried again, this time pulling it right up until she was able to put her arms in the sleeves. As the ends of the sleeves were sewn up, she stood helplessly, wondering what she was supposed to do next.

“Turn round so that I can do you up,” said Nancy Thomas.

Anna obeyed, feeling cold and naked in the ill-fitting garment as the younger woman slowly fastened the buttons at her back.

“There,” said Nancy when she had finished, standing back and looking at Anna. “Let’s have a look at you.”

“How long have I got to wear this?” she asked tearfully, her voice little more than a whisper.

“You’ve got to stay like that for a week, Dobson. Isn’t that what the Governess said?”

“A week!” Anna protested. Her punishment seemed so unfair, just because she hadn’t folded her own pyjamas properly.

“Maybe it’ll teach you to be more tidy in future,” said Nancy with a sardonic smile, evidently enjoying Anna’s discomfort. “Off you go now.”

In a daze of embarrassment and confusion, Anna made her way slowly downstairs to the main hall, trying to decide where she should go, desperately not wanting to be seen yet knowing she must return to her lessons. As she stood hesitating in the hall doorway, the bell for morning activity sounded, reminding her that she was due to report to the gym for PT.

Anna dreaded the prospect of anyone seeing her dressed as she was. How could she possibly endure a whole week dressed like that, she wondered miserably.
With a sigh of despair, Anna went slowly downstairs to the main hall, trying to decide where she should go, desperately not wanting to be seen yet knowing she must return to her lessons. As she stood hesitating in the hall doorway, the bell for afternoon activity sounded, reminding her that she was due to report to the gym for PT. Miserably, Anna realised she would have to go there or risk further punishment if she didn’t.

Making her way warily along the corridor, Anna hardly looked where she was going. She had loitered in the hall until she was sure most of the girls had left, but now it was six minutes since the bell had gone and she knew that she needed to hurry. Anna felt sick. She could feel her heart pumping away at twice its normal speed. The next half an hour or so was going to be awful in any case but at least she didn't have to make it still worse by being late. She hadn't wanted anyone to see her, but now she realised that she might have waited too long.

"Hey, Anna! Is that you?"

Oh, god. It was the voice of Sheila, a girl in her dormitory. The last thing that she wanted was to talk to her now. Anna lowered her head, pretending that she hadn't heard and continued to hurry along the corridor. It was no use. The other girl ran up to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Anna! What’s happened?"

Anna carried on walking quickly along the corridor and shook her head, not looking into Sheila's eyes.

"Why are you wearing that? Is it a punishment?" asked Sheila, concerned at her friend's discomfort.

Anna knew that she would have to tell her. After all it was only a matter of time before everyone knew. “I’ve got to stay like this for a week,” she muttered bitterly.

Sheila immediately understood the significance of the punishment dress.

"Oh, Anna! I'm so sorry . . . That’s awful. What on earth did you do?"

"I failed dorm inspection this morning. It’s so bloody unfair."

"Don't worry. It's your first time, isn't it?"

Anna nodded.

"Well, you'll be okay. It's horrible but you'll soon get used to it. You'd better hurry or you’ll be in more trouble if you're late!"

Anna nodded and hurried on towards the gym.

As Anna neared the gym she saw a queue of girls lined up outside the changing rooms under the eye of the young gym teacher. Nervously, she joined the end of the line uncomfortably aware of that, dressed as she was, the eyes of everyone were on her.

The teacher looked at her and grunted. "Just in time! What's your name, girl?"

Anna answered her, rather surprised that the teacher did not comment on her attire. Miss Drake made a mark against her name in a list she was holding, well aware that the woman in the ‘Bad Bunny’ costume would have to remain dressed as she was for the session.

"Right! That's it!" she announced. "It's five to four. One girl's still not here and she'll be regretting that before too long! The rest of you file into the changing room and stand by the benches."

Chapter 10

Miss Beeton was amusing herself with Anna.

“I think you deserve some sort of punishment for your insolence. Don’t you agree, girl?” The young wardress was asking from her seat on the edge of the desk.

“I-I’m sorry M-Miss ... I-I didn’t see you, Miss ...” The tall dark-haired woman stammered. Was it her fault that she had bumped into this little cow as she rounded a corner?

“That isn’t what I asked you, you stupid girl,” Miss Beeton snapped, folding her arms.

“I ... I su-suppose so ... M-Miss ...” Anna stood shame-faced, dressed in the ridiculous school uniform. How she hated being treated like this, especially by this wardress. “S-Sorry Miss... I sup-suppose I do, Miss...” Anna clasped her hands behind her back trying to hide her anger.

“Show me your bottom, girl,” Miss Beeton said, picking up a wide wooden paddle from the desk.

Without any hesitation Anna turned, placed her thumbs into the elastic of her shorts and knickers and slid them halfway down her thighs, took the hem of her gymslip and lifted it clear of her buttocks.

“I think that as you admit to deserving a punishment, it is only fitting that you give it to yourself.” Miss Beeton sniggered as she knocked Anna’s hands from her skirt. Taking the hem, she pulled it right up before placing the paddle in Anna’s hand, patting and squeezing the woman’s bottom cheeks.

“How old are you?” Miss Beeton asked.

“Twenty... twenty-eight M-Miss...” Having to give her age to this young woman always made her squirm inwardly. Admitting that she was in fact ten years senior to Miss Beeton as she lay across the desk displaying her bare bottom would no doubt make any woman squirm.

“Twenty-eight...” Ann mused, “In that case, I think twenty-eight nice hard spanks on each of your fat bottom cheeks will teach you to be far more careful in future. I don’t have to tell you I want good firm spanks. Also, to save me the trouble of counting them, you can do it. Carry on.”

Anna gripped the paddle in her right hand and reaching back placed it in the centre of her right buttock. Raising her arm as high as was possible, she brought the paddle sweeping down hard on the centre of the buttock cheek, sending shock waves outwards.

“One... Miss...”

“Harder!”

Spllaaattttt ... “Two... Miss...”

“I said HARDER!”

Spllaaattttt ... “Three ... Miss ...”

Spllaaattttt ... “Four... Miss...”

Spllaaattttt ... “Five ... Miss...”

Spllaaattttt ... “Six... Miss...”

Already Anna’s right buttock cheek was beginning to burn. She laid on the spanks as hard as she could, trying to spread them out as best she could. After 20 spanks there didn’t seem to be a part of her bottom that wasn’t on fire.

To Anna’s added humiliation, one of the maids came into the room as she continued her spanking.

“Oh, sorry Miss, I didn’t know you were in here. I’ll come back later,” the woman said.

“That’s all right, Doris, carry on, we won’t be long.” Miss Beeton smiled towards the maid.

“Been a naughty girl, has she, Miss?” the woman asked as she began to dust the desk.

“You could say that,” Miss Beeton replied. “Keep your eye on her for a moment, I won’t be long.” She stood up from the desk and opened the door. “When she’s given herself twenty-eight she’s to start on her other cheek, good hard strokes too. Let me know if they are not.”

As Miss Beeton left the room, the maid stopped her dusting. With an evil grin she went and stood just behind Anna. From time to time the domestic staff found themselves in a position to have some sport with the ‘pupils’, and this to her was one such chance.

“Come along, you heard what your teacher said,” she mocked as Anna, now with tears streaming down her face brought the paddle down for the twenty-second time.

Spllaaattttt ... “Twenty-two... ”

Spllaaattttt ... “Twenty-three...”

“Harder girl! Or I’ll tell your teacher,” warned the maid.

Miserably, Anna struck her right buttock cheek even harder

Spllaaattttt ... “Oww…. Twenty-four...”

Spllaaattttt ... “Ouch… Twenty-five...”

Spllaaattttt ... “Oww…Twenty-six... ”

Spllaaattttt ... “Ouch… Twenty-seven...”

Spllaaattttt ... “Oww…Twenty-eight...”

Anna paused, desperately wanting to rub the buttock she had been compelled to spank so hard.

“Come on, you haven’t finished yet girl. Let’s see you do the other cheek.”

With a groan of utter despair, Anna took the paddle in her left hand and struck her left buttock.

“One….”

“Harder!”

Chapter 9

Later in his office, the Colonel reviewed the files of the latest intake of prisoners. They had been at the centre for just a month so should have a decent level of discipline by now he thought. Their ages ran from 19 to 36 and all were on a 12-month sentence. Each female had a set of photographs that depicted her full face and then four naked, taken from the front, each side and back with the prisoner standing with legs wide and arms outstretched to the side. From the absence of marks these were obviously taken just after their arrival. Two or three were somewhat overweight and the Colonel was pleased to note that all but two or three were well endowed in the chest department.

One girl would have to be watched like a hawk. Another female in the style of Millard-Stokes stared at him from the photograph in her file. She was Sarah Dickinson, a 28-year-old blonde who had already received two formal thrashings. She had held supervisory positions in an IT company before her fall from grace. Her punishment record showed only relatively minor transgressions and all her punishments were well taken. Bringing up her record on the screen, the Colonel looked at the post-punishment digitals. The first showed the results of 12 hard strokes across her plump backside and the second 18 some ten days later. Naturally no record existed of any informal punishments that she had received but the photographs revealed marks from what must have been such inflictions. Clearly a prisoner who would need the strictest treatment he thought for himself.

Towards the end of the afternoon he walked around his domain on a final tour of inspection. The dormitory was ready for the prisoners with the beds in position down either side of the room with the sheets and blankets stacked on each ready for making. The retaining rings were fixed to the two rails at the top of each bed and the one hook at the bottom. The floor made of plain wood strips was still dusty and awaiting the labours of the prisoners who would eventually bring it to a gleaming shine.

The toilet and shower block was in a similar state awaiting their efforts. The Colonel noted that the four normal toilets were lacking seats as he instructed. Even so, they would be more comfortable and less embarrassing to use than the four Asian type ones along a wall. He tore off a length of toilet paper and rubbing it with his hand approved the coarse cheap texture. He must remind them, he thought smiling to himself, of how many pieces they would each be allocated for every 24 hours as part of his economy drive. Five should be enough if they were careful.

The punishment room was ready with the equipment awaiting the first victim. The Colonel took a plastic rod from its rack and swished it experimentally through the air. His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of marching feet and glancing at his watch realised that the time had come to meet his squad. He strode into the bare parade room to find a young duty wardress lining up six female prisoners in a line. As he entered she called them to attention.

“Sir, here for what they are worth, are the prisoners awaiting punishment.”

The Colonel walked to the front to an audible gasp from the squad and a snapped “Silence!” from the wardress. As if life in the School was not bad enough, they were now about to face the added humiliation of being under the total control of a male officer…and all that might entail.

The women stood rigidly at attention, staring straight ahead. Their school type uniforms had obviously been recently pressed for the inspection in the desperate hope that they could make a good impression. At the wardress’s invitation, the Colonel walked the line standing in front of each nervous girl examining her in detail from head to toe. All of them held their shoulders well back and he could see the protrusions of several nervous nipples through the material of the regulation bras and blouses. The wardress produced a notebook and pen making him realise that he would have to find some faults… which he did.

A mark on the toe of a highly polished shoe, a button undone on a shirt, a tie with a faint mark from some food, a hair out of place, a minute hole in the back of a sock… all resulted in an irritated question to the offender:

“Name?”

And the recording of the error. In no time, eight of the squad had collected errors, errors that would require dealing with. He finished his tour and stood in front of them.

“Not a good start, you all knew that you would be facing an inspection and yet several of you still failed to take the necessary care. If I carried out a full inspection of your underwear and general bodily standards, goodness only knows what I would find.”

Despite their rigid position, that last remark caused a look of horror to pass over their faces as the implication sank in that this man could and would be carrying out the most intimate examinations of their bodies.

The wardress, a slim girl who looked no more than nineteen, spoke again:

“Each time I point at a prisoner she will march forward, bend over fully reaching behind her to pull her knickers down to her knees. She will then grasp her legs as low down as possible and brace herself.”

The squad were allowed to stand at ease but warned that they were to watch each punishment and not divert their gaze. In no time, the first recipient was bent over facing away from them with her buttocks tight and bared. Unhitching her strap the wardress carefully but firmly laid her three strokes over the lower section of the girl's bottom. Each stroke had her move slightly in response.

Knickers and bloomers pulled up, she returned to her position and was replaced by the next candidate. Several girls displayed the marks of recent punishments. One in particular was the 32-year-old who had already aroused the Colonel's interest in connection with her poor record. Her name was Jane Thomas and her buttocks were heavily bruised from what must have been a serious application of the cane. Stretched tight by her position the bruises would make this simple strapping exceedingly painful, but as the Colonel knew well, such a fact was no excuse for leniency.

“When did you receive these marks Thomas?” he enquired.

From her bent over position the girl stuttered out that she had been formally caned four days ago and received an unofficial punishment two days ago. When asked by the wardress how many strokes, she replied 18 then 12. The wardress muttered that these will feel like gentle slaps in comparison, knowing full well that across the bruises, they would feel like hell.

She selected the lower section of buttock where it joined the thigh as this was always sensitive and had clearly been the aiming point for many of the strokes. She laid on three hard ones and was pleased to note that when the girl stood, tears were forming in her eyes.

The rest of the punishment strapping continued with the usual inevitability until the last girl had returned to her position. The Colonel then announced that he would now administer the strap.

Every prisoner was taken by surprise as the first stroke sizzled down. Stokes only just managed to keep in position as the strap slapped into her sore and throbbing rear. When it was over, several of the women were visibly shaken and Thomas reduced to snivelling.

“Now for the corrections,” announced the Colonel.

These would be administered by the wardress. The Colonel particularly interested in how Dickinson would take hers. Her offence had been pure invention when he complained that her uniform was untidy but he wanted to see if she displayed any rebellious streak.

She was tall with delightfully long legs and as she bent over, her hair hung down almost to the ground. The previous six strokes stood out on her otherwise unmarked bottom as the wardress laid on three as hard as she could, looking for her reaction. She certainly gasped and moved her feet slightly on the second stroke, quickly apologising and shuffling back in position. The third must have hurt like mad across her taught and burning cheeks but as she stood up the expression on her face was of simple acceptance.

There was no need to offer a prize to see who the winner of six strokes would be. They left Jane Thomas until last. As she came forward her eyes were very much on the strap held by the wardress, knowing just how much it could hurt. She was quick enough to bend over and lower her knickers but the Colonel insisted that she force her hands even lower down her legs than she would normally so that her buttock cheeks were stretched as taut as possible. The wardress slipped her hand over them feeling the radiant heat and tightness of the skin over the firm muscles. Stepping back, she brought the strap down.

Jane Thomas almost jumped out of her shoes and yelped loudly. Before she had time to recover, the second and third stroke came lashing down. As the new pain reached her mind, the wardress shouted to her to stretch even lower and remain in position. She placed her feet well apart and brought the strap down yet again. It proved to be too much for Thomas who leapt to her feet clutching her buttocks. A shocked silence went round the squad as the enormity of her refusal to remain in position sunk in. They knew full well that this could result in a group punishment for them all. The Colonel broke the appalled silence:

“We now have two situations to deal with. Firstly, Thomas's refusal to accept punishment. Secondly the need to award a group punishment to you all for one of your squad's refusal. I will now have to make a telephone call.”

He left the now despondent squad in the presence of the wardress whilst he went to his office.

It was the duty officer who answered. The Colonel explained the problem and was soon reassured that the punishment room staff would take care of it. He then went back to the parade room and spoke to the squad.

“We will firstly finish the six strokes for Thomas, then we will administer the six that she has earned for you all as the group punishment. The rest of you will then receive your six and finally, Thomas will report to the punishment room where her refusal to accept punishment will be dealt with.”

It would be a long night for them all and one that Jane Thomas, in particular, would remember for some time.