Sixteen of the Best

by Sarah Veitch

  She'd do as she was told all right, or her arse would be permanently bent over the whipping frame. Warden Neath stared contemptuously at the naked prisoner, wailing like a banshee when she was only halfway through her punishment. Two of his sisters had ended up in gaols across town for stealing bread when they were close to starving, whereas this bitch could have lived simply off the proceeds of the family house. Instead, she'd stolen to fund a more lavish lifestyle, and now refused to earn her keep in this women's gaol.

  'Dr Grant, if you can just check on the prisoner's condition?' he said with false solicitation.

  'My pleasure,' the other man replied with a throaty laugh. Neath watched as he stepped forward, admired the teenager's bare body for long moments then ran his palms over her tethered flanks. She shivered violently at his touch then moaned low in her throat as his palpating increased the pain in her tender parts. 'She's a healthy mare who can take much more punishment,' he confirmed eventually, slapping at both cheeks and making the prisoner howl.

  'I can't!' Constance gasped loudly. 'Oh please, sir - really I can't!'

  'I shall continue my ministrations to make sure,' the prison doctor replied, and Neath watched as he slipped a finger into the miscreant's pleasure-hole and thrust it in and out, making the naked young woman groan anew. 'All responses are normal,' he clarified, licking his finger, 'and she's ready to taste the paddle for another ten.'

  'Please, I can't bear it,' Constance gasped.

  'Really? In that case a more thorough investigation is called for,' the man replied, slowly inserting his middle finger into her served-up anus. As he thrust it in and out Constance squirmed at the odd sensations and the blush which suffused her body testified to her increasing shame.

  'Has a man ever availed himself of this part of you?'

  'No, sir. How could he?' the prisoner whimpered.

  'A girl who truly can't take any more is exhausted, can't tighten her sphincter,' the doctor said, adding a second digit to the first.

  Constance cried out. 'No more - you're cutting me in half!'

  'As I thought, all fine and dandy,' the man concluded, slowly withdrawing his fingers from her widened orifice. 'Warden, you can continue thrashing these lazy little cheeks.'

  'If you insist, doctor,' the warden said, exchanging a smile with the Matron who, as usual, was pushing her own right hand against her uniform, palpating the area between her thighs.

  He picked up the punisher again, knowing that this was his favourite part of the session; the second half. By now the girl bent over the frame knew exactly what a thrashing felt like, was desperate for respite. He only had to scrape the birch against the floor - as he was doing with the paddle now - for the troublemaker to pucker up her disarmed bare bottom. He only had to move his arm and make the air currents change for her to push herself desperately against the metal bar.

  'Stroke eleven,' he announced but made her wait, in an agony of anticipation, before he applied the dreaded punishment. This time the paddle went low, marking both the underswell of her cheeks and her thighs.

  'Stroke twelve,' he continued. 'I think I'll lay this one further up.'

  'I can't bear it,' Constance protested.

  'Of course you can - doctor says you're a healthy filly with an arse that's made for punishment.'

  'But...' She broke off as he toasted her burning backside again.

  He waited, tapping the paddle against his outer leg, until she calmed down: experience had shown him that it was better to wait until a girl was concentrating on her sore buttocks, dreading the next judicious application to her recalcitrant flesh.

  'Thou shalt not steal,' he murmured.

  'I won't ever again, sir. I swear!' She sounded as if she meant it.

  'Your bottom will remind you not to.' Raising the paddle, he warmed her orbs for the thirteenth time.

  'Thirteen, unlucky for some,' Matron murmured then doubled over briefly, right hand working overtime. My, but that woman loved to see an uppity girl squirm. Sometimes she came twice in a session, and he was willing to bet that she played with herself again afterwards at the memory. He was looking forward to taking care of himself in private when he'd finished correcting Constance - and, judging by the bulge in the other man's trousers, he wasn't the only one.

  'Number fourteen coming up, though I'm running out of space. Maybe we should feed you up with bread so that you've got a bigger backside for future thrashings?'

  'I'm never coming back here,' the wrongdoer promised in a quaking voice.

  'Sorry, but your arse isn't getting off that lightly. You're coming back here next week at the Governor's orders,' Neath replied. He loved the fact that the Governor often meted out such double punishments as they ensured that the prisoner worked hard for the next few months.

  'Time to remind that naughty bottom who's in charge here.' He administered the fourteenth stroke and watched Constance's bare backside flinch and pucker, only to briefly smooth out then flinch some more. By this stage every iota of her being must be concentrated on her helpless hindquarters, her every move given over to trying to shake off some of the pain. He knew that she'd give anything to cup her flaming buttocks, had already decided to leave her wrist fetters in place for the rest of the day.

  'Fifteen.' He could see that Matron was touching herself again and his own manhood ached painfully at the unfolding tableau. This time he lashed the paddle into the centre of her raised rump, watching it flatten briefly as the thick leather slapped hard. As ever there was a second when the offender went beyond words, then she began an impassioned wail.

  'I'll do anything,' she said.

  Warden Neath glanced at the others and they both nodded encouragingly at him. Release was imminent! He walked, stiff legged, to the front of the frame. Getting down on his knees was equally difficult with such a large erection to contend with, but he eventually positioned himself so that he was lower than her face.

  Unbuttoning his trousers, he placed the tip of his manhood close to her lips. 'Your bad behaviour makes him very sad - but you could kiss him better.'

  'Kiss who? What?' The girl opened her eyes and stared blurrily down at him.

  'My friend here.' He pushed his hardness between her lips. 'Just give him a little lick and he'll be fine.'

  He exhaled hard as he felt the girl's soft mouth enveloping the very tip of his cock, then sighed with frustration as the contact ended. 'You have to keep going - unless you'd rather have the paddle instead?'

  The warning seemed to work and she mouthed inexpertly at his root, kept doing so. He came quickly, and suspected from the sighs and groans across the room that the other two had done the same.

  'Good girl,' he said, getting shakily to his feet. 'As a reward, I may not lay on the last five so hard.'

  'But I thought...' Constance muttered, staring at him dazedly.

  'A wayward girl shouldn't think - only feel,' Neath countered, reminding himself that her soft lips had enjoyed the finest rouges whilst his sisters had often lacked basic clothing and housing. She'd had five minutes' respite from the paddle. What more did she want?

  'I could lick the doctor,' Constance said.

  Neath looked at him quizzically but he shook his head. 'I'm here to oversee - and anyway I'd rather watch her wriggle under the flogger.'

  In reality, the warden knew that the man was already spent. He glanced at the Matron, knowing that she'd love to position her female parts under Constance's warm, wet tongue, but knowing also that it would never occur to the teenager that this was an option. And, as Matron was much too proud to suggest it, she'd have to miss out. Matron fared much better with the older girls who knew that tonguing her cunt or her titties brought them favours or at least an early respite from the birch.

  It was odd starting again after such an enjoyable interlude. He stared at the bottom before him, served up for punishment, and wondered if he had the energy to do it justice. Wardens usually made a first punishment especially memorable so that a mischief-maker saw the
error of her ways.

  The Matron seemed to read his thoughts. 'Shall I do the honours, warden? Thrash that naughty little vixen for tempting you?'

  Neath nodded gratefully, realising that he liked the idea of a spectator sport. He watched as the older woman fingered the leather punisher for long, loving moments before lining it up with the prisoner's trembling backside.

  'This will teach you not to tease your elders and betters,' she murmured before swinging the paddle into the girl's upturned flesh for stroke sixteen.

  The renewed sensation after the hiatus must have hurt more as Constance's cries echoed around the room and she tugged impotently at her bonds and again promised anything.

  'Anything?' Matron asked hopefully.

  'Lick the doctor,' Constance gasped as she had before.

  Matron scowled. 'Four to go,' she mumbled after counting and recounting on her fingers.

  'Fear not, dear lady, it's my duty to keep a tally,' the doctor said.

  'Doctor, please, I can't take any more,' Constance whimpered.

  'Miscreants don't have an option,' Matron said.

  Neath knew that the older woman loved to take her frustrations out on the girls. He made sure that she went easy on the genuine hardship cases, those who had stolen in order to ward off starvation or to feed their children. But work-shy ladies like this one deserved a hot, sore arse.

  'Seventeen.' The woman laid the blow over the offender's central swell, doubtless reawakening earlier paddle strokes.

  Constance howled.

  'Eighteen.'

  Another wail.

  'Nineteen.' By now the same flesh had been roasted again and again by the leather blade, the paddle also marking the top of the girl's thigh backs.

  'Ask me nicely for the last one,' Matron said, running the leather across the gentlewoman's helpless flesh.

  It seemed to take Constance a while to find her voice, then she said, 'Please use the paddle on me again, Matron.'

  'Say please warm my naughty little cheeks, Matron,' the older woman elaborated.

  Sobbing with humiliation, Constance mumbled, 'Please warm my naughty little cheeks.'

  The Matron obliged and she cried out into the punishment chamber, then sobbed some more.

  'Admirable as the view is,' Warden Neath said softly, after a full five minutes of staring at the naked prisoner, 'it's time I took her back to her cell.'

  He did just that, tethered the young mischief-maker to her bed and hurried back to the punishment room.

  'She's tied down on that soft belly and is feeling very sorry for herself. But not as sorry as when her cellmate returns from the laundry, I'll bet!'

  'Serves her right, letting the other girls do her share of the work,' Matron cut in. She was looking rather flushed and Neath privately wagered she'd been rocking against the stool she sat on, a covert way of pleasuring herself again.

  Neath winked and turned to the other man. 'Well, doc, did we treat the prisoner fair?'

  Neath's mate grinned. 'I doubt if the real doc would have let you use that paddle.'

  'Fortunate for us that he's in his cups as usual and you were able to stand in.'

  'Stand in? Hell, I was doubled over by the end. You know there's nothing gives me more pleasure than seeing a pretty young reprobate being taken to task.'

  'So, same time next Friday?' the warden asked.

  Neath's mate and the Matron both nodded eagerly.

  'No chance of the Governor popping in halfway through?' the woman asked nervously.

  Neath shook his head. 'I found out from a friend the other day that he prefers boys, is always over at the House of Correction. He likes to see these young lads take the birch.'

  'So we can use what we like?' Matron confirmed.

  'Uh-huh, we can do our own thing as there's no one to supervise us. Personally, I'm glad of the change, was tired of using the birch.'

  'All these twig ends,' Matron said with a shudder, 'I was forever sweeping up.'

  'So, how do we warm Constance's arse on Friday?' Neath's mate asked.

  'With a cat-o'-nine-tails,' Neath said happily. 'My brother sent it to me, says that just one stroke leaves nine hot weals on a bad girl's bottom. I'm looking forward to laying it on hard.'

  She must think positive, Constance told herself as she lay tethered on her softly rounded stomach. For once she was glad that her cell's tiny window didn't have a shutter, for the cold breeze had cooled her punished cheeks. The paddle had been terrible but at least she'd be familiar with it on Friday, would know what to expect. And surely the doctor would intervene if Neath or Matron went too far?

  She wondered when Neath would return to untie her from the bed. Four hours must have elapsed as she could hear the other women returning from their morning shift at the laundry. Molly, her cellmate, was a hard woman but might show some sympathy, bring her a crust of bread.

  She turned her head sideways as her cell door swung open.

  'Molly. I'm so glad to see you!'

  'As am I to see you,' Molly answered, sitting down on the side of the narrow bed. 'We had to do all your work as usual.'

  'I'll make it up to you tomorrow,' Constance said. She trembled as she realised that the other girl was staring at her exposed bare bottom and flexing her muscular right arm.

  'You'll make it up to me now - and later with that pretty pink tongue of yours,' Molly said, beginning to spank with a surprisingly firm palm.

  -oOo-

  Enjoy more of Sarah Veitch's acclaimed CP titles, all published exclusively as eBooks by us and ready to download now...

  Below the Belt

  To Kerri's relief, the man stopped slapping her agonised spheres. Snivelling, she slid to her knees and reached for his zipper. She looked up at the nurse. 'Will I get into trouble for this?'

  'No, it's part of your humiliation. You're repenting for a wrong. It would be different if you'd crept off with a man you fancied for mutual pleasure,' the nursing sister said. 'Now use your pretty pink tongue to its full effect.'

  Colouring further, Kerri eased the man's phallus from his trousers and licked it, glad to be free of his lap and his spanking hand.

  'Is that the best you can do?' he murmured, slapping his palms together.

  'I'll try harder, sir,' Kerri promised...

  In this classic spanking story by Sarah Veitch, Kerri is duped into moving to Alpineglow, a remote town with a unique brand of justice. She arrives to find it's owned by Jeff Rendell, a man she once seriously wronged.

  Jeff and his overseers strictly discipline Kerri and the other disobedient dissidents. They're also set exquisitely-demanding sexual tasks.

  Permanently nursing a sore bottom, she searches for ways to exploit the system. But her cunning tactics lead to increased humiliation for nothing is exactly as it seems...

  'Intriguing and stimulating. I couldn't put this book down.' In The Buff.

  'All the lovingly-described punishing action any hardcore CP lover could want.' Forum.

  'A spine tingling read from first page to last.' Kane.

  Corrective Measures

  Ruth focused on the braided coiled whip. It had several tails of heavy dark leather. She didn't know if it had the traditional nine tails, and didn't want to get close enough to examine it. The naked culprit was obviously also staring at the crop, for a slight shiver ran through her spreadeagled body and she tensed her helpless bottom cheeks.

  - A shy Russian bride has to taste the whip on her wedding night

  - The model in a spanking video betrays her producer so badly that she has to submit to the cane for real

  - A young woman breaks the law in a futuristic setting and endures having her bottom bared before the state caning machine...

  These 21 stories demonstrate a wide range of punishment implements and judicious settings. Here many young women - and two unfortunate young men - pay at length for their intransigence. The collection also includes the mini novella Re-educating Ruth in which a young female infidel reluct
antly agrees to spend several months at a merciless House Of Correction for adulterous women in Amsterdam.

  Further Training

  He smiled as he forced her to her knees. 'You cheat and lie constantly, Miss Churr, so now I'm going to give you something to think about.'

  So saying, he fastened a heavy studded collar around her neck and attached a long leash to it. Then he made her crawl over to the hated whipping stool.

  'I'm sorry I lied,' she mumbled as he bent her into place.

  'Ten lashes of the cane for lying to your Mistress,' he said promptly. 'And ten more for plotting to kidnap Suki. And ten for stealing clothes from a washing line.' He bound her wrists and ankles to the lower quarters of the stool then crouched at her face. 'I'll give the naughty puppy her first ten strokes then take her over to show the others her striped backside.'

  'Yes, sir,' Charlotte whispered, cringing inside.

  Charlotte is such a disobedient slave that she's transferred to island two of a vast correction centre. There she's strictly re-educated at the shame-based school and military academy until she pleads for clemency.

  But Charlotte comes up with a scheme to thwart her superiors. The only drawback is that she'll be assigned to the sadistic Karo if the plan backfires...

  'Superior CP fiction.' Desire.

  'Gave me intense pleasure from first page till last.' Kane.

  Reformed Characters

  'Get the braid-handled whip ready,' the Master said to one of the men. 'She knows how she's to position herself. I'll be along presently to make her dance a jig.'