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.
“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.
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