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.

Chapter 8

Blackfriars Grange was subject to occasional inspections by the same chief magistrate who had presided over Anna Dobson’s trial. A middle-aged retired army officer known to all as the Colonel, he was permitted, encouraged even by the Governess to take an active interest in disciplining the inmates. In return, he was content to report favourably on the regime there.

Looking down the corridor, the Colonel saw a prisoner with long dark hair standing outside his office door. She was dressed in the standard 1930s style schoolgirl uniform worn by female inmates: white cotton blouse with starched collar and tie, grey socks and bottle green knickers worn under thick elasticated-leg bottle-green bloomer-style shorts. Brown plimsolls completed the outfit.

As he got closer she snapped to attention staring straight ahead, wondering no doubt whether he was the staff member in charge of her punishment. The Colonel ignored her completely and even walked past her, sensing her relief that the time had not yet come.

He then stopped, turned abruptly and stared at her intently.

A look of panic came over her pale freckled face as she smartly curtsied to him, resumed the attention and spoke:

“Angela Millard-Stokes reporting for punishment…er… Sir!”

Her voice was that of a well-educated young lady from a privileged background. She appeared to be in her mid twenties and stood around five foot seven inches tall with a round pleasant face and large green eyes. She looked a little heavy around the hips and had a noticeably large bust. Her legs, as far as he could see were sturdy rather than slim.

She was visibly shaking and felt wretchedly apprehensive as a myriad of thoughts raced through her mind. While she had a little experience of being punished by other females at her girls’ boarding school, the prospect of being dealt with by a man was far more terrifying. Since leaving the all-girl environment, she had spent most of her time working at her friend’s riding stables. Apart from one boyfriend that lasted only a few weeks, she had little experience of men.

She looked into the Colonel's eyes and could only see a hard dispassionate man who would tolerate no reluctance on her part and offer no kindness or compassion. She knew the things the female staff ordered prisoners to do and knew that the male version was likely to be even more inventive and intrusive. It was bad enough having to strip in front of a wardress… but would this man make her parade in front of him? Would he be as sadistic as some of the female staff members and look for excuses to inflict pain? If he did, how would she cope?

He continued to stare at the woman, running his eyes up and down her without any attempt to help her embarrassment. She had been sent to him for punishment for some minor infraction of the rules and he intended to teach her a lesson she would not forget easily.

He opened his door and with a curt flick of his head towards the opening he gave her the first of many orders for the evening.

“Move yourself girl!”

Looking at her uniform, with its old-fashioned school style, he thought of the fun he would have unwrapping such a parcel.

The time had come to take a good look at the prisoner and he began by telling her to take up the ‘present’ position, hands behind her head and elbows back so that her pronounced breasts thrust at her uniform shirt front. He emphasised that after every order she should resume that well braced, feet-apart position so that he could enjoy an uninterrupted view of her.

He then ordered her to remove her tie and gymslip.

Slowly and nervously the young woman unknotted her tie and placed it on an adjacent stool. She then pulled her gymslip up over her head and, carefully folding it, placed it too on the stool leaving her standing self-consciously in a pair of thick bottle-green bloomers with elasticated legs that gripped the tops of her thighs tightly. Absurdly, she still wore the schoolgirl hat on her head.

He told her to unbutton her uniform blouse and pull the tails clear of her waistband. A tantalising glimpse of her heavy old-fashioned vest could be seen as she did so and, although almost all of her ample breasts were restrictively covered, a small area of flesh could be seen. On his next order she removed her blouse and handed it to him.

He saw that the material was of a heavy cotton type, tailored slightly to fit the bust area and designed to keep a schoolgirl warm in the freezing conditions of an English boarding school in the middle of winter. Even without the other garments it would be far too thick to wear with comfort in warm weather, especially indoors. As she snapped back to attention, her discomfort at having to wear such old-fashioned style underwear became even more apparent. The ridiculous 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 just by undressing as well as being extremely hot and itchy to wear, particularly whenever they were required to exert themselves.

He made her turn slowly around so that he could assess her from all angles. When she was facing him he told her to remove her knickers.

Reluctantly she eased the elastic waistband of her bloomers down over her thighs and legs, revealing a pair of regulation gym knickers beneath as she stepped out of them.

“Give them to me,” he instructed.

Blushing, she handed them to him and resumed the present position, standing in just her vest, socks and baggy green knickers, all of the type that might be found in a museum of dress for the first half of the last century. The red marks around her waist and thighs stood out vividly and sweat drops could be seen against her white skin.

Next he had the still blushing prisoner remove her vest. He looked her over as she again resumed the present position. A heavy white support bra was now fully displayed. When she was told to remove her brassiere, she stood frozen to the spot staring at him. He knew that women prisoners who wore the old-fashioned dress style become unusually modest about their bodies, almost as if they lived in the 1930s themselves.

Trembling with fear, Anna reached behind her back, unclasped the broad back clips and leant forward to slip the garment free of her shoulders. As her large firm breasts came into view, he found himself staring at the milky whiteness of her skin that contrasted with the pink of her nipples.

“I now have to deal with your disobedience. Don't think that you will be getting off lightly because this is your first punishment. I will give you…let’s see… ten strokes and I hope that you will learn your lesson girl. Take off your knickers and hand them to me.”

It took the woman some time to force down the garment as the elastic around the waist and both legs gripped her tightly. Eventually she handed the knickers to him and resumed the present position now wearing just her grey socks and hat.

The knickers were heavy and damp to the touch. As he opened them out he could see the white gusset that ensured that the dark material did not obscure any traces of carelessness. They would certainly be uncomfortable to wear in warm temperatures, he thought to himself.

Doubting the woman's ability to accept the punishment without some form of restraint, he ordered her to lie across the table and reach out with her hands.

He placed a footstool between her legs to help keep her legs parted. This revealed tufts of gingery hair that protruded from between her buttocks and thighs. He moved to the other end of the table, took a seat, gripped her wrists and braced himself against the edge of the table to hold her firmly in place. Her breasts were pressed down on to the wooden surface and her face was forced to look up at his. She had the usual look of the prisoner about to receive punishment and accepting the terrible inevitability of the event.

Taking his time, he removed his uniform jacket and slowly rolled up his sleeves. He picked up the instrument and stood to the victim’s left, shuffling to find a point of balance. Two practice swishes were taken then, with a sharp intake of breath, he brought the cane down across the alabaster flesh of her buttock cheeks.

The impact made the woman jump slightly, but he realised that this was simply in response to the impact. He firmed up his grip of her wrists just as the pain reached her brain and she responded by almost leaping off the table. Her eyes opened unbelievably wide and then screwed themselves shut as she absorbed the agony, knowing that she had no other choice. That first stroke, a real bitch, set the tone for the others. The rest were delivered each with brutal force and total objectivity. They continued with monotonous regularity with the woman first squealing in pain then simply sobbing her heart out in the all too short intervals between strokes. Several times she lifted off the table leaving a damp sheen where her breasts had been pressed down, only to bring them slapping back down onto the hard surface… all thought of their sensitivity forced from her mind by the swishing cane.

Eventually it was over. Having cautioning her to grip the edge of the table with her hands and not to attempt to touch herself, he wandered around to her rear to inspect the results. This had been a thorough but fair punishment and only what the girl had deserved, he thought, as he ran his fingertips over the red swollen lines that crossed her white skin. Each was laid squarely across the cheeks, parallel to the floor with a separation between them all.

Soon the shaking woman was back in the present position in front of him, tears running down her face.

Chapter 7

6.30pm and time to get ready for bed once more. The door to the dormitory opened and Miss Beeton, the 19-year-old wardress walked in. She was wearing the smart navy blue uniform trouser suit and low heeled shoes worn by all prison staff.

“Good evening girls,” she said.

“Good evening Miss,” the ten women replied.

Miss Beeton walked to the end of the line of pyjama-clad women, strolling in front of them, leather-covered paddle in her right hand. Her head was just about level with their breasts so that she looked up at each flushed face before her. She reached the end of the line turned and looked back ...

“Pyjama bottoms down ...” Ten pairs of pyjama trousers were unbuttoned, pushed down and stepped out of. Each woman folded her pyjamas neatly and placed them on the floor at her feet, once more standing to attention.

“Pyjama tops up,” was Miss Beeton’s next order to her class. The ‘schoolgirls’ stood holding the hems of their pyjama jackets up level with their breasts.

“Legs apart.” The women placed their feet about two feet apart.

“Legs together ....”

“Front of pyjama tops up under the chin for breast inspection - MOVE!!!!” was all Miss Beeton had to say to have twenty breasts displayed. They were big breasts but firm, hardly sagging at all. The women stood obediently, pyjamas under their chins, arms straight down at their sides.

Miss Beeton once more strolled along the line until she came to Jane Thomas. “Put your hands under them and push them right up.”

Jane did so, pushing her breasts as high up as she could. “Now, when I say go, pull your hands away and shout bong as your tits drop down. Go...”

Jane removed her hands, letting her breasts drop, bouncing softly. “Bong,” she said in a low voice.

Spplaattt... Miss Beeton gave her a smack with the paddle across the front of her thighs. “I said shout, stupid. Do it again.”

Red-faced, Jane lifted her breasts and let them drop again, saying “bong” loudly as she did so.

“Louder!”

“Bong!” she shouted as she lifted and dropped them again. She was made to lift and drop her breasts half dozen times, shouting “bong” each time, before being told to stop.

Next it was the turn of Angela Millard-Stokes to hold her breasts up by the nipples. She gasped as Miss Beeton ordered her to pull them first to the left and then to the right, then the left breast to the left, the right breast to the right repeatedly. The young wardress, hands on her hips, smiled up at her victim.

“Up ... down ... left ... right ... left tit to the left ... right tit to the right ...” Miss Beeton was enjoying herself. Angela was near to tears, with both shame and the soreness of her nipples.

After some ten minutes of each woman having to bounce her breasts or pull her nipples, the order came to replace their pyjama tops.

Miss Beeton gave the order for them to turn around ... “And now, would you girls be so kind as to show us your bums,” she said with a mock upper class accent.

Ten bottoms were at once displayed to the teenager, who walked along pinching a cheek here, slapping a cheek there, making comments about whose bottom was fat, whose bottom was firm, whose bottom she would most like to smack!!!

The ten mature women stood in just their pyjama tops, bare bottoms displayed as the young wardress poked and prodded them while making derisive remarks.

“Let’s have your bottoms on display,” the wardress ordered. “That’s good, girls. Now hands under the overhang of each cheek, fingers resting under each buttock.”

Each woman reached round and placed her hands as told, fingers touching the beginning of the swell of each cheek.

“When I say go, you will bounce your cheeks up and down. I want good hard flicks of your fingers and to see those bottoms really bouncing. Is that clear?”

“Yes Miss,” ten cultured voices replied together.

Miss Beeton kept them waiting some thirty seconds... “GO!!!”

The fingers at once flicked up and down... ten large bottoms bounced and danced.

“Come on Thomas, get those cheeks moving, girl,” Miss Beeton said, giving the woman a hard slap on her left buttock. Jane Thomas gasped, her fingers worked harder, her buttocks bounced and quivered.

The wardress made Angela Millard-Stokes bend over and touch her toes for six strokes from her paddle, three stinging strokes across each cheek for not bouncing hard enough. She then made Sarah Dickinson smack her own bottom with the paddle three times on each cheek for the same offence, and ordered her to give herself another six when she deemed they were not hard enough.

She kept the women at it for a full ten minutes. ‘BOUNCE’ both bottom cheeks ... ‘BOUNCE’ the right cheek only ... ‘BOUNCE’ the left cheek only ... ‘BOUNCE’ both cheeks. And so it went on, buttocks wobbling, wrists aching. They dare not stop. To even appear to slow down could, and would, result in the paddle being laid across those very cheeks.

For further amusement, Miss Beeton next made each woman step out in front of the class one at a time and bounce her bottom while singing the old nursery rhyme:
Jelly on the plate
Jelly on the plate
Wibble, wobble
Wibble, wobble
Jelly on the plate.

She continued calling out which cheek she wanted to see bouncing, making threats of punishment for any ‘girl’ not singing loud enough or trying hard enough ...

After five minutes they were told to stop, replace their pyjama trousers and turn to face the door. They were then allowed a short rest ... if standing at attention could be called a rest.

“Running on the spot - begin ...” Miss Beeton suddenly shouted at them. “Come on, get those knees right up. Arms at your sides. Come on, you lazy cows, get those knees up!”

Angela Millard-Stokes gasped, but pushed her knees higher. Breasts and bottoms wobbled, mouths gaped open, but they kept running.

The wardress had them at it until she thought it best to stop, before they became exhausted. “Dickinson, come out here, girl!” she pointed to a spot in front on her with her switch. The tall blond woman came and stood to attention before her.

“I will not have any slackers here, girl. You were told to run. Did you think I wouldn’t notice your legs getting lower and lower?”

“I ... I did ... did my ... b-best ... M-Miss.” Sarah Dickinson panted.

“Then I’m afraid your best is not good enough, girl. Fetch me your gym shoe.” As she spoke she walked to the wall and returned with a chair. She took the shoe from the prisoner, and sat down.

“Get across my knee... legs out straight!” she snapped.

With a low groan, Sarah Dickinson lay over the young wardress’s knee. She felt the fingers in the waistband of her pyjama trousers, the cool air on her bottom as they were pulled down. Oh God, she thought, I’m going to be spanked by a girl some ten years my junior! The shame, the humiliation. Sarah felt her bottom twitch as the wardress tapped it with the gym shoe. “This is going to hurt you a lot more than it is me,” she laughed.

Tears of shame prickled at her eyes.

Spllaaattt ...

The wardress laid the gym shoe across the centre of Sarah Dickinson’s right cheek.

Spllaaattt ...

Next, the left cheek.

Spllaaattt ...

The centre of her bottom. With each slap the big buttocks trembled.

Spllaaattt ...

The right cheek again, then the left, next the centre. Miss Beeton laid on some 24 slaps before she was sure she was getting through to the woman. Sarah gasped and grunted as the last half dozen fell. They stung like hell, but she had had far, far worse. Her biggest hurt was her pride. Whenever this young wardress had them for a class, she was always fearful her pride would stop her obeying them and she knew where that would lead.

“I hope that will encourage you to try harder next time, girl!” Miss Beeton dropped the gym shoe and patted the prisoner’s bottom.

“Ahhh... oohhh... y-yes... M-Miss... aahh... it will... it will M-Miss.”

“I hope so, for your sake, girl... not to mention your fat bum’s.”

Sarah Dickinson bit her lip. Being called a girl by this teenager was like a knife in her. She knew the little bitch was goading her, hoping she would retaliate so she could put her on report. From her upside down position, she felt a hand run over her right bottom cheek. “Sore, is it?” the wardress asked, with a mocking tone in her voice.

“Y-Yes... yes M-Miss... it... it is... M-Miss.”

“Well, if you had been a good little girl, and done as you were told, you wouldn’t now have a sore botty, would you?”

“No... no M-Miss...”

“And that goes for all you pretentious cows,” Miss Beeton said, addressing the nine remaining women. None needed telling. They all knew.

Miss Beeton gave Sarah Dickinson’s bottom a slap. “Up you get then,” said the teenager, and the 28-year-old got awkwardly to her feet with her pyjama bottoms down by her knees. “Pull your pyjamas up, and get back in line.”

“Let’s have those pyjama bottoms down again, girls...”

Once more, pyjama trousers were unbuttoned and pushed down. Only this time they stopped halfway down the thighs.

The wardress returned to the rear of the women. “Arms straight above your heads, legs a metre apart. When I say bend, you will all slowly bend over and grip your ankles.”

“Bend!” The women slowly bent over, displaying all that had once been so private. Now they had to show everything... to whoever wished to see it.

They were made to bend and stretch. Sometimes they bent over for a full minute, others for a second. They were made to stand with arms in the air, until they felt like lead. All the time they were threatened with a spanking if their arms and legs were not kept straight.

“Right, girls... What I would like you all to do, is pull the cheeks of your bottoms apart. Wide apart, so that we can see those arseholes of yours. Would you all be so kind as to do that for me?”

With a groan, the ten bent figures obeyed the shaming order.

“Thomas, I want those cheeks wider than that. Don’t be shy.”

Jane Thomas pulled harder, so much so she felt as if she would tear herself apart.

“That’s better. You see, you can do it,” the wardress scoffed.

She kept them bent over for a full three minutes. They could all see, from between their legs, the wardress sniggering, eyes going from one to the other. She was enjoying every moment as she kept the ten women prisoners bent over, humiliating themselves.

“I’m watching you, Dickinson! Get those legs straight and those cheeks apart, girl, unless you want to go back over my knee, as well as on report,” Miss Beeton called out.

With a groan, Sarah Dickinson straightened her legs and pulled harder on her cheeks.

“Hands back on your toes.” Miss Beeton took a pencil from one of the shelves as she passed.

Slappp!

She smacked Sarah’s right cheek. “Cheeks apart.”

The prisoner at once reached round and pulled her bottom cheeks apart once more.

Miss Beeton slowly pushed the pencil up Sarah Dickinson’s bottom.

Sarah shuddered as she felt it sliding in. The little cow, the bitch! Oh how the rotten little bitch loved to degrade her. I could kill her... I will... I will. But, at heart she knew all she would do was to stay bending, holding her buttocks open, with a pencil protruding from her arsehole.

“You may all stand.” Miss Beeton said. “Pull your pyjamas up, that is apart from Dickinson, who can’t,” she laughed.

“Dickinson, stand out the front, and show your classmates your award for being the best ‘arsehole’ in the class.”

Pencil twitching from side to side, face burning with shame, Sarah walked forward.

“Wiggle your bottom for your school friends ...”

The shamefaced woman swayed her hips, making the pencil swing to and fro

“What is Dickinson, girls?”

“An arsehole, Miss,” came the reply. The felt no pity for Sarah, all knowing it could so easily be one of them standing there. Shamed so by this teenager.

“Back in line, Dickinson. Get that pencil out and your trousers up.”

Red-faced, Sarah Dickinson removed the pencil and joined the others.

Miss Beeton pointed to a spot at the end of the dormitory. “Time for a race. When I say go, you will run to the far end of the room, touch the wall and return here, touch the other wall and run back. And I don’t have to tell you, you keep running until you are told to stop. Got that in your thick heads?”

“Yes Miss...” The ten pyjama clad women stood in line, breasts heaving.

“And to make it more fun,” Miss Beeton announced. “Whoever is last when you’re told to stop will get my switch across her bottom.”

Miss Beeton checked they were in line, raised her arm: “Ready... steady... wait for it... GO!!”

They set off down the hall, none wishing to be last, breasts bouncing as they ran more or less in line. Up and down, up and down they ran. Legs became heavy, breath harder to find. And all the time having to worry about being last.

Catherine Green, being the youngest, was pacing herself best. As they one more turned from the end wall, Miss Beeton, having watched Catherine’s well run race, reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair. Catherine gave a scream, leaned back to ease the pain and crashed down on her bottom, much to the amusement of her tormentor. “Now run, you little cow.” Miss Beeton said, laying her paddle across the woman’s bottom as she set off.

By the time Catherine was on her feet the others were nearing the far end of the hall. She ran flat out, but as she reached half way the others were on their way back. She ran and ran ... and with only a few strides left to overtake Jane she heard Miss Beeton call a halt.

“And now for our prize winner ... you, I think, Green won that. The rest of you get back in line, facing me, and you,” pointing at Catherine, “get your fat arse up here!!”

Biting her lower lip, Catherine came forward and stood waiting.

“Get your pyjama bottoms off, woman. Do you think you’re to have it across them, stupid?” Miss Beeton walloped her paddle across Catherine’s pyjama clad bottom.

“No ... No ... M-Miss ... I ... I’m so-sorry Miss,” Catherine answered, quickly removing her trousers, and placing them folded on the floor.

Miss Beeton roughly twisted the woman round by her arm so that she had her back to the other ‘schoolgirls’. “Hands on your head, and up on your toes,” she snapped.

Catherine at once obeyed. She stood naked from the waist down, awaiting her punishment. Punishment she knew she did not deserve, punishment for being last in a race for this little bitch’s amusement. Punishment because this girl had picked her out from the start to receive it.

“Now, girl, I am going to give you six. If you move your hands from your head, or come off your toes, you will get two extra. Understood?” Miss Beeton tapped the buttocks before her as she spoke.

“Y-yes... Miss...” Catherine felt her buttocks twitch as the paddle tapped.

WHAPPP! The stroke landed dead centre of both cheeks. Catherine rocked forwards, teeth bared as she took in the pain. But she stayed on her toes.

WHAPPP! The next stroke landed a little lower. Catherine gave a gasp.

WHAPPP! This time higher. The woman gritted her teeth.

Miss Beeton laid the next two on in quick succession. Catherine gave a yelp and all but put her heels on the ground. But hung on.

The young wardress kept her victim waiting for the last stroke, tapping first one cheek and then the other. She was having great fun. How many girls, she thought, had the power to spank a once proud woman’s bare bottom because it amused them to do so. A woman so much her senior at that. Oh yes, it was great fun to watch these arrogant cows quivering in dread of her.

Bottom twitching uncontrollably, Catherine summoned up all her willpower not to earn extra strokes, although she knew her tormentor could spank her bottom all day if she felt so inclined.

WHAPPP!

“Aaaaahhhhh... ooohhhh...” Catherine, although expecting it, was not ready for the pain. Miss Beeton had swung the paddle upwards so that it bit deep into the softest part of her bottom, between the cleft. The sudden shock made Catherine come off her toes. She at once returned to stand as ordered but, to no avail.

“You stupid slag... bend right over and touch your toes... I want that skin tight... move, woman!!”

Sobbing, Catherine bent over. Was there no escape from this hell? What had she done to deserve to be treated so? She had never harmed this girl, or the monsters that were now her Mistress. No, she was paying the price for others. Others who had acted as she had in the past. And she knew, as all who were brought to this hell-hole, there was no escape. She had thought of taking her own life. But even that was impossible. There was no opportunity, one was watched at all times, the knives and forks were made of plastic. There was not a piece of string, rope or wire to be seen. Even the bedclothes were made of untearable material. Escape was hopeless. And she had been warned, as they all had, that to attempt either would bring a 24 stroke spanking every morning for a month. No, there was only pain and more pain. There was no escape. One just had to accept it and hope to please these sadistic swines. Wasn’t that the reason she was now bending over awaiting the paddle across her naked bottom from a girl nearly half her age, some twelve inches shorter than her and half her build? She knew she could easily overpower this girl, but in her brain were etched the consequences. Pain... pain and more pain ...

Miss Beeton laid two wristy strokes across Catherine’s taut buttocks.

“Aaaaahhhh... oohhhh... ooohhh...” Although Catherine cried out, she remained bending.

“Up,” said Miss Beeton, lightly tapping Catherine’s bottom with the paddle.

Catherine stood. How she wished she could clasp her hands to her stinging bottom. But even that was forbidden.

Chapter 6

Pulling back the bed clothes and yawning, Anna slowly sat up on the edge of the iron bedstead, rubbed her eyes and looked around the room. The rest of the dormitory were all out of bed and in various stages of dressing. There were twenty four beds in all, twelve arranged directly opposite each other down either side of the room, with a tall locker separating each one.

The continuous noise of the bell interrupted her thoughts, urging her out of bed.

As she stood in pyjamas on the cold linoleum floor, the door of the dormitory opened and in walked the warden, a tall slim woman in her thirties wearing a smart navy blue uniform.

“I’m glad to hear there’s no talking going on,” she announced. It was forbidden to speak to anyone before the 7.30 bell.

Anna opened up her locker, took her blouse off its peg and laid it on the bed while she looked for some underwear. As she did so, she could hear the Warden stop by the end of her bed.

“Anna Dobson, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Miss,” Anna replied.

“I can’t help noticing that it’s almost twenty past seven and you’re still in your pyjamas. I’ll be back promptly at seven thirty and will pay particular attention to whether you’re properly dressed by that time and your bed is neatly turned back as it should be. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Miss,” Anna repeated, forcing out the words as politely as she could.

Anna took off her pyjama jacket, picked up the horrid bra she had been given on arrival and slipped it on, bending forward while stretching behind to do up the hooks and eyes. Removing her pyjama bottoms, she took the pair of green knickers from the drawer where she had left them on top of the pile the previous evening and wriggled into them, pulling them up and easing the elastic in the legs up over her thighs and bottom. Anna then took her blouse from the locker and put it on, shivering slightly at the coldness of the cotton against her skin. In her hurry to do it up, her trembling fingers fumbled with the little buttons until at last the collar was fastened and she knotted the tie round her neck and turned the collar down.

Aware that time was getting short, she pulled on her shorts and sat on the edge of her bed to pull on her socks and gym shoes. Quickly tidying her bed clothes, Anna stuffed her pyjamas into the drawer of her locker and closed it just as the 7.30 bell was ringing and, just in time, rushed breathlessly to the end of her bed for the inspection. The dormitory door opened immediately and the warden entered.

She began check the opposite side of the dormitory first. The silence in the room was broken only by the sound of her heels tapping on the green linoleum as she slowly made her way round the room. On reaching the end, she turned with a swirl of her pleated skirt and started back down the other side until she reached Anna’s bed.

Tight-lipped, the warden stood in front of Anna for a second or two before moving behind her. There was a brief pause and then the sound of a locker being opened.

“Are these yours, Dobson?”

Anna turned to see the warden holding up the pyjamas she had hastily stuffed into her locker.

“Yes, Miss,” she replied.

“In that case, you can put them back on again. I think it’s time you had a lesson in obedience, my girl. This is the second time I’ve caught you like this.”

Anna knew better than to argue with one of the wardens. With a sigh of resignation, she took the pyjamas and, watched in silence by everyone else in the room, began to undress. First her shoes and socks, then shorts, followed by her tie and blouse before hesitating in just bra and knickers, hoping at least to be allowed to keep her underclothes on.

“Everything off. You don’t wear those in bed, do you?” the warden insisted.

Obediently, Anna removed her bra and quickly put on her pyjama jacket, fastening the buttons as she did so, before taking her knickers down and pulling on her pyjama bottoms.

The warden eyed the pyjama-clad girl.

"We take discipline extremely seriously here Dobson. Failure to tidy your clothes is a spankable offence."

The temperature of the room dropped five degrees. Anna's mouth went dry as she tried to tell herself she hadn't heard what she had just heard. Did the woman really say ‘spankable’?

As if to confirm Anna’s worst fears, the warden fetched an 18" leather-covered paddle from one of the cupboards at the end of the dormitory. Holding it in her hand she nodded to Anna. "As this is your first spanking, Dobson, I’ll make it ten."

Anna couldn't move. Her eyes were glued to the paddle as the woman approached. This couldn't be happening. "But I didn't know - I was going to fold them later!" she sputtered, tears coming to her eyes she was so frustrated. She looked up at the warden with incredulity. "You can't be serious!"

"If you argue with me I shall make it a dozen," she cautioned. "Now assume the position."

Anna didn’t know what ‘the position’ was but was horribly aware that it probably involved bending over and presenting her backside for a spanking. It had been many years since she her mother had last spanked her, but she had never forgotten how much it made her bottom sting. Cheeks burning with shame, she tucked her pyjama jacket into the elasticated waistband of her trousers and stepped into the centre of the room and bent over.

“Bend your knees and grip your ankles.”

"This isn't fair..." she whispered as she did so, thrusting her bottom out prominently behind her.

"I told you, no arguing. That's a dozen then. I want you to count them." The warden stepped up to Anna's backside and lifted the paddle in her right hand.

Whap! Whap! Whap!

"Oooooohhh!" squealed Anna, rising up in surprise. There had been no warning, no first stroke to let her realise what she'd got herself into. There was only the sudden rush of raw pain as three blistering strokes landed in the span of three seconds. She gripped her bottom through her thin pyjamas and moaned. She realised after the fact that it didn't hurt so badly; it had been the shock that had startled her. The warden wasn't impressed, however.

"How dare you! The impertinence! Since you like to dance so much, we shall make it twenty. Now get back in position before I get the cane!"

Groaning, Anna bit back a retort and bent over. Her bottom tingled lightly. The paddle had a sharp sting but it didn't penetrate--the pain faded quickly.

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

Anna sucked in her breath and gritted her teeth. The first few seconds were the worst. It felt like she backed into a hot stove and wasn't allowed to move away but had to stay with her bottom pressing against the burning metal.

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

Oh, God, it was getting worse! Anna grunted and wiggled her bottom to relieve the sting. Whap! Whap! Whap!

"Hmmmmm," said the voice of the warden. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Whap! Whap! Whap! Anna held her breath and tried to think. Whap! Whap! What was the woman talking about? Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! It was so hard to concentrate while her bottom was on fire!

"You aren't counting!" snapped the warden. "None of these count unless you are counting."

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

"Oooooh, ouch! No! Please, Miss, that's not fair. I--I forgot. Please, that has to have been twenty."

"Start counting at one."

Whap! Whap! Whap!

"But--"

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

"OW! Okay, okay, that's one, two, three, four--"

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

"Oooh, slow down, I can't--"

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

"Ten! That's ten, eleven--"

"Dobson!" The warden stopped swinging the paddle and lifted the girl's face to glare at her. "How dare you skip! You obviously need practice counting. We shall start from the beginning, and this time we will go to thirty. Are you ready?"
Tears dripped down Anna's face and her bottom stung unmercifully. She fidgeted, wondering why this woman was so unreasonable. But she had little choice but to cooperate.

"Okay, I'm ready," Anna breathed. "But please, go slower so I can keep pace."

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

"Errg!" gasped Anna. That wasn't slower at all. She hissed: "Onetwothreefourfive--"

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

"--sixseveneightnineten!"

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

"Eleventwelvethirteenfourteenfifteensixteenseventeen--"

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

"Oh! Er, eighteennineteentwentytwentyonetwentytwo--"

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

"--twentythreetwentyfourtwentyfivetwentysix--"

Whap! Whap! Whap!

The three strokes were low, across the tops of Anna's thighs and she shrieked in pain. "Owwww, please! It hurts!"

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

"Twentyseven, twentyeight, twenty-"

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

"--nine, thirty! Thirty! THIRTY! That was thirty!"

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

Anna leaped up and away from the warden. She stood sobbing, rubbing her stinging buttocks through her pyjamas and glaring at the woman. "That was THIRTY!" she kept saying over and over again.

"So?" The woman stared at her, puzzled.

"You're supposed to stop at thirty!"

"I told you we were going to forty. Since you stopped, I'm afraid we shall have to start over from the beginning."

The blood drained from Anna's face and her mouth dropped open. "You've got to be kidding!" she hissed. "This isn't fucking happening! You said thirty, you distinctly said THIRTY!"

The warden’s face went dark with fury and Anna knew she'd made a dreadful mistake but she couldn't help it. This was so unfair. The woman was changing the rules as she went along. Anna couldn't handle it.

The warden, meanwhile, went to over to the cupboard and opened the top drawer. From this she took out a long wooden paddle, oval in shape and drilled with one inch holes. Compared to the other paddle it seemed huge, and Anna's heart sank as she realised there was worse still to come.

"Noooo," she moaned, her knees feeling weak.

"I'm afraid so, Dobson. Since you are a new inmate I wanted to go easier on you and use the small paddle, but you have made that an impossible task. Your disrespect and foul language tells me you need serious punishment."

"Oh, please!" Anna sank to her knees, sobbing. "Please, no more. I'm sorry. I don't know what I've done to offend you, but I'm sorry. Please, don't spank me anymore. I can't take it."

"Dobson! You should be ashamed of yourself! Now get up off the floor and take your punishment like an adult. How old are you?"

Anna got to her feet and sniffed back a sob. "Twenty-eight, Miss." The will to fight had gone out of her. This bitch was going to paddle her and there was nothing she could do about it. Best co-operate and get it over with as quickly as possible.

"Twenty-eight years old and crawling on the ground like a baby! What on earth do you think you look like."

Anna blushed as she suddenly became aware of the others watching her. She suddenly felt horribly ashamed of herself in front of them all.

"Now, can you take your punishment like an adult?"

"Yes, Miss."

"All right. To make up for your previous unco-operation I'm going to give you twenty."

Anna shuddered. Twenty! Oh, God, this was going to be difficult. She licked her lips nervously and nodded.

"But we still have the issue of your swearing, I'm afraid. That is a serious offence here. It merits at least twenty."

"Oh, nooo!"

"Quiet, girl. I know it's not your first time but I think you'd prefer it to the alternative. Lower your pyjama trousers and bend over the end of your bed. Unless, of course, you'd rather take an extra twenty.... It's your choice."

Anna gulped. Some choice. She took a deep breath and began to lower her pyjama bottoms. The thin cotton material protected little more than her modesty anyway. She told herself that a paddling couldn't be much worse on the bare, but her heart trembled as she eased the elasticated waistband down her thighs, leaving her in only her pyjama top.

"Place your hands on the end of your bed and stick your bottom out behind you."
Anna obeyed silently. ‘Get this over with, just get this over with,’ she kept telling herself.

The warden stared at Anna's shapely buttocks. The skin was pink and covered with dark red blotches from the vigorous spanking, but the she saw there were areas she'd missed. The heavier paddle would easily take care of them. Licking her lips, she drew back the heavy instrument, briefly glancing over her shoulder at other girls in the room behind her.

THWACK!

An explosion lifted Anna onto her toes and it was all she could do not to scream. The next blow didn't come immediately, however, and given time to access the pain, Anna realised it wasn't as bad as she'd feared. The horrible part was the humiliation of being spanked like a child, and by a stranger no less.

The paddle slammed into her buttocks again and again, each blow loud and merciless. Tears leaked out the corners of Anna's eyes. The pain seemed to seep through her entire body.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

Three in a row, fast as bullets, right at the sensitive base of her bottom, the paddle lifting the flesh as it connected. "Owwww!" Anna squealed, biting her lip and struggling to stay in position at the end of her bed.

"Quiet or I'll really give you something to cry about!" snapped the warden, and laid the next several wallops in harder than ever.

Oooh! Anna wiggled her bottom and prayed that this would soon be over. Hadn't they reached twenty yet? It felt like fifty! Oh, God, she wasn't supposed to keep count, was she? Surely the woman had said she didn't have to. But maybe she would just deny that--it was her word against her own.

How many had there been? Anna tried to think as the paddle pounded into her again. That vicious set of three, the follow up four, and the first few made at least ten. There had been a number of others. There should only be about four or five left at the most.

Gritting her teeth, Anna counted the next several blows. Only a couple more, surely.

THWACK!

It had to stop.

THWACK! THWACK!

Oh, God, that hurt.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

Oh, oh! It wasn't stopping! Was the woman trying to kill her?

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

Tears flowed as Anna felt all hope leave her. There was nothing she could do. If she protested, the woman would only punish her more.

THWACK! THWACK!

Steeling herself, Anna resolved to take whatever the woman gave her.

THWACK! THWACK!

Fortunately, her bottom was going numb--the blows hurt deep down but the sting was less.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!!!

Anna bit back a scream of frustration. That was thirty-five! Perhaps the woman intended to give her forty anyway.

THWACK! If she could just hold on for a little while longer...

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Oh, please, stop! THWACK!

There was silence in the room. It took Anna a few seconds to notice it, and when she did, she began to sob. She stood bent over the end of the bed in near collapse. Her bare bottom was blistered and sore with huge welts and dark red bruises and pale blotches left by the holes in the paddle.

The warden studied the girl with satisfaction. "So, will that teach you to tidy your clothes?"

"Yes, Miss," Anna whispered, defeated. She would said anything to please the warden. Anything to avoid more pain.

"Good. Pull your pyjamas up. Are you ready for the rest of your spanking?"

Anna turned and saw the warden standing, watching her. She couldn't believe the woman was serious. "There's more?" she whispered in a hoarse voice.

"Swearing is a serious offence, Anna. I'm afraid a simple paddling just won't do. This calls for the cane."

"The cane!?"

"Yes." The warden got up and pulled a long wooden pointer from the railing beneath the cupboard. The stick was about a quarter-inch thick and very flexible, as evidenced by the way she bent it into a U. "Shall we start with a dozen?"

"Yes, Miss," she said, though desperately wanting her ordeal to end.

"To the centre of the room and grab your ankles."

Anna obeyed silently, hoping her cooperation would merit her some mercy.

"This is punishment for your swearing, Dobson, so after each strike I want you to count the stroke and say out loud the word that got you into this trouble. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Miss."

There was a soft swish and then a squishy thud. For a second Anna wasn't aware of any pain, and then it hit her. A sharp burrowing sting that just kept going deeper and deeper. For about ten seconds Anna couldn't even breathe.

"O-one," she finally gasped. She hesitated. "Fuck!" Oh, that felt good to say that!

Swish-THWACK!

"Eeek, oooh, two!" growled Anna. "Fuck!"

Swish-THWACK!

"Three fuck!"

Swish-THWACK!

"Fourfuck!"

Swish-THWACK!

"Five FUCK!"

The agony was incredible. Each stroke left a thin stripe of burning rawness that astonished Anna. She could never have imagined so much pain, let alone that she could endure it. And yet she was--the pain seemed to wash over and through her without really touching her. It was surface, external. It was almost like she was watching herself from outside her body, except that it was more intimate than that. She thought only of the pain. She learned all of its stages: that first breath of total emptiness, followed by the overwhelming rush of emotion as the pain bit and you sank into it and lost all trace of identity, and then the amazing clearness as your focus returned to reality and when you looked around the world seemed a different place.

After each stroke Anna obediently uttered the F-word. At first it was cautious, then vigorous, and then it was only a groan of complaint as the ceaseless beating continued.

The warden carefully thrashed Anna's buttocks and then moved down her thighs. As Anna expected, she didn't stop at twelve. It wasn't until the second pass over her flesh, welts growing on top of welts, that Anna became indignant. She'd taken two dozen; it was over. She'd proved her obedience and cooperation. The caning served no more purpose.

The warden stopped at thirty. Anna slowly raised herself upright, placing her hands behind her neck and waiting patiently for instructions. Every movement caused her flesh agony.

" I hope this lesson has been instructive to you?"

"Yes, Miss," she whispered tearfully.

"Good. You can remain in your pyjamas for now. The bell should be ringing in a few minutes.”

Anna watched the warden her with vengeful eyes as she returned the cane to its resting place and longed to take the cane to her chastiser. She had done nothing to deserve such punishment yet there it seemed there was nothing she could do about it. Blackfriars Grange was indeed a terrible place.