by Susan Thomas
The Disciplined Women of Earth Zero
by
Susan Thomas
All rights reserved
Copyright © September 2016 by Susan Thomas
Published by LSF Publications
http://www.lsfpublications.com/
Cover design by Nathaniel Scott.
Further information about Susan Thomas's ebooks can be found at:
http://www.susanthomasstories.com/
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. It includes adult spanking and some sexual scenes. Any resemblance to actual persons, places or events are purely coincidental.
Sarah has it all ... a good education, a top job in finance, and a handsome fiancé. Life is wonderful, until things begin to go wrong and her world comes crashing down, leaving her with nothing. Miserable and angry, she drives out of the city into snow-covered countryside. Losing control of the car on a narrow road, she smashes into the crash barrier and plunges down a ravine ... and wakes up face down in the snow with no injuries or pain. Rescue arrives in the form of a rugged farmer, Bill Cole. He takes her to his stone farmhouse where he tells her to change into a demure dress belonging to his sister, as the trendy leggings Sarah is wearing are considered immoral, and will offend his Bible Study group. When she refuses, Bill puts her over his knee and spanks her. It is but the first shock of many to come, for Sarah learns she died in the car crash and is no longer on Earth, but a parallel world called Earth Zero.
Here in Earth Zero, with its theocratic government, women are expected to be submissive to men and defer to male authority, not speaking unless invited to do so. Though women are protected and valued, they are disciplined by their husbands, and if the offence is significant, (such as raising the hem of their skirts) they are subjected to a public punishment and strapped on their bare bottom. Sarah is not used to any of this, and her outspokenness soon earns her a second spanking from Bill. But he is a kind man, and she feels deeply attracted to him on many levels. Romance and marriage follow rapidly, and Sarah gradually adjusts to her new, much simpler yet enriched life. However, her former skills on Earth are also useful on Earth Zero, and she is sought out by the government to undertake a secret investigation. If she is successful, she will be offered an incredible opportunity...
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
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Prologue
The community hall had once been part of a large school; the rest of the building had been destroyed, leaving only the school hall, and that had been adapted for its current use by the small farming community. The stage was not being used; those watching would be very close. She stood, holding her husband's hand tightly, scared, for this was her first public punishment. She doubted she could be any more scared if she was herself about to be punished.
They were at the front of the horseshoe-shaped group of spectators as befitted her husband's standing in the community. A short distance away, and the centre of everyone's attention, was the wooden punishment block. Ironically it had been made by the husband of one of the two women due to be punished. Simon Chandler was the carpenter and joiner of the district. He too was a man of substance, with several men working for him, and two apprentices; but man of substance or not, his wife would not be spared her public spanking.
The wooden punishment block was a fine example of the craftsman's trade: no nails or dowels had been used, only meticulously made complex joints. The finish was exquisite and she couldn't help wondering at the care and love that had gone into something only used to punish. The construction was odd: a low platform at the front was for kneeling on, then an angled riser, and finally a top platform which sloped downwards. The person kneeling would be bent over, their upper body angling down to become lower than their bottom.
From a door in the corner a group made an entrance. There was Master Cartwright, District Overseer; the Rev. Nathaniel Phillips ... a burly man carrying a small case; two women dressed in flimsy white robes that barely reached the knees; and four older women, each properly dressed, supporters for the women in white. Master Cartwright separated himself from the others, and raising himself to his full height addressed the horseshoe of spectators.
"Brothers and Sisters, it is a sad occasion when one of our number offends against the community. Punishment must follow to cleanse and purify us all, but after punishment must come forgiveness. Once these punishments are done with today our sisters will be restored to us and no mention of their past deeds need be made."
She thought that Master Cartwright was as windy and pompous as usual but she gave no sign of her contempt. Her husband squeezed her hand a little to show that he knew what she thought and agreed.
"Rev. Phillips will now lead us in prayer."
The prayer was also long and windy; she thought that if she was standing waiting in that skimpy gown of penitence she would be screaming for them to get on with it.
Master Cartwright puffed up his chest again and announced, "Ruth Chandler will now make her confession."
A small slight woman stepped forward, her skimpy white gown revealing the shape of her body as the light was behind her. She didn't look up but spoke as if to the floor.
"I am guilty of wearing immodest clothing. I encouraged others to wear such clothing. It was foolish of me I know but my vanity led me on. I apologise to you all and accept my punishment. I have brought shame on my husband, but in his love he has forgiven me, and I beg you all to do the same."
She watched the confession, keeping her anger carefully hidden. What stupidity this was. The foolish Ruth was merely guilty of lowering the bodice of her clothing a little and raising the length of her dresses and skirts. Hardly earth shattering stuff. However, she wasn't angry when Gladys Dover made her confession. The woman had been found to have skimmed the food collections for the poor and needy. She had been using what she took for her own family who were not in need. Theft was theft in anyone's book and needed punishing.
"Ruth Chandler will be punished first." The pompous tones of Master Cartwright grated on her nerves but again she gave no sign.
Two of the older women led Ruth forward. She was trembling now and tears were leaking down her cheeks, but she made no attempt to resist, just knelt on the lower platform and bent forward so that she was fully stretched over on the block. There was a rail to hold on to at the rear of the block and the slight woman gripped it tightly. There were no restraints. One of the two older women lifted her skimpy gown and pulled it right up exposing her bottom for all to see. The faces of all the women watching showed clearly that they desperately hoped never to be in that position.
The burly man stepped forward and opened his case. Inside was a beautifully made leather strap. She shuddered when she saw it for it was clearly a strap designed to give a serious punishment. It was long, thick and heavy. The man stepped forward, lined the strap up across the bottom of poor Ruth Chandler, and then stepping back raised the strap high and brought it whistling down with a horrid crack. The noise of the strap echoed around the hall and was quickly followed by a shriek from the woman. The chastised bottom rippled and a violently red band appeared across both cheeks. Almost every woman present averted her eyes, clearly hopi
ng that they would never be in that position. But she could not avert her eyes ... they seemed drawn to the sight of this woman's spanking, leaving her with no control. Crack! The strap landed its second punishing blow across the bottom which rippled violently, and once again a screech followed that deafened the watchers.
She felt her eyes were obliging her to watch the strap landing on the poor woman's rear end but it was making her stomach knot itself. The sheer humiliation of being bared and strapped in public like this was, in her view, awful. The strap was landing in neat lines covering Ruth's somewhat fleshy bottom until every part had the angry red bars of the strap. Twelve strokes, was the sentence, which didn't sound much, but looking at the results, was clearly a tough one.
Ruth was crying uncontrollably when the last of the twelve was done. She was helped to stand by the two matrons assigned to her and it was pleasing to see that they were very kind to her. They wiped her face and supported her although standing still was clearly not easy for her. Ruth Chandler kept craning her head around as if she could see the marks on her bottom, but the white robe was once again covering it.
While Ruth was being helped, Gladys Dover was being placed in position over the block. She was not so compliant, she kept pleading and protesting, but eventually was positioned when her two matrons knelt down by her and held her shoulders. Clearly Gladys couldn't be trusted to stay in position. When the first stroke lashed down Gladys screeched and bucked to such an extent the two women supporters had difficulty keeping her in place. She continued to struggle, scream and plead until the ninth stroke cracked down, at which point she seemed to collapse over the block and just lay there sobbing as the last three were applied.
The punishment over, and the two women recovered, now was the time for forgiveness. The two penitents stood each with an older woman on either side and the spectators now began to greet them. Men shook their hands and the women gave them a hug. She had never done this before but hugged each and whispered, "Bless you" before stepping to one side. Her husband found her again and put his arm around her; she loved him very much but had great anxieties about many of the ways of this community.
Chapter 1
Life is far too short to be obsessed with ambition. I had to die in order to learn that lesson and even then I nearly forgot.
I was always serious about my life. My parents expected it, and before you think I am about to go off on some parent-blaming rant, I'm not. I loved my parents and they loved me. I got on really well with them but I imbibed their attitudes with my baby milk. They were high achievers and expected the same from me, and I rewarded them. I did well in everything. I excelled at primary school, and at the expensive private high school for girls, I was top of everything. I made it to be captain of the netball, athletics and swimming teams as well as head girl and did outstandingly well both at GCSE and A-level.
At university I got a double first in maths and economics, before going on to get an MBA, and my goal was success. Had you asked me to define success I might have had some difficulty. Get to the top; money, honours and position would probably have featured in my answer. Undoubtedly I was serious about it all. I was snapped up by an investment bank before even leaving university. After a very successful first year they sent me off to work in New York for a while and on my return it was obvious I was regarded as a high flyer. Then I met Simon; he was another high flyer and we were regarded as the golden ones, envied by others. My parents were proud of me and delighted when Simon and I got engaged.
Then, like Job in the Bible, it was all taken away in a few short months. Three events...bad things go in threes they say...and I had nothing.
The phone call came late one evening when I was at home. An 'incident' on the motorway and my parents were two of the five dead. It was a very bad time for me; we had a big project at work and grief disables as well as all the extra work death causes. However, I coped and managed it all, feeling that Simon was very supportive as indeed he was.
When the complications of death had been dealt with, and my project at work wrapped up, I felt as if I had come to the surface. When I got the text from Simon I had no inkling that it would say what it did. He felt our relationship had "run its course" and was ending it. I rang him.
"I wish you hadn't phoned. I had hoped you'd be mature about this."
"Well I hoped you'd have the balls to speak to me face to face and not send a text, but there it is."
I killed the call knowing from his voice further conversation was pointless. I phoned my boss and asked for a day's personal leave. He granted it immediately and I spent the day in stupid misery before getting rid of all memorabilia of my ex-fiancé.
The next day I went back to work and was made redundant. They were nice about it I have to say; regretful and offered a fair package, but I sensed that my high flying days were over. With my qualifications I would get a job but never with the same money and opportunities. I felt nothing worse could happen: no parents, no fiancé and now no job and I went kind of mad. I suddenly didn't care about my life and threw a bag together and got in my car and just started to drive. I was angry the whole time. I kept thumping the steering wheel, took huge risks with my driving, and was lucky not to be stopped by the police.
I vaguely knew I was driving out of the city and into the country, and as I drove the already cold weather began turning nasty. I didn't care even when it started snowing. I guessed there were warnings out but I didn't bother turning on the radio or stopping at a motel. I just kept driving blindly though farmland and into higher land with wooded areas between small farms. The weather grew much worse and soon I was heading through driving snow with the wipers barely able to keep the screen clear.
I have to explain my mood. I knew what was doing was dangerous and stupid. My car was not suited to either the weather or the roads I was now on. I knew that if I broke down or crashed the cold could kill me if I got no help. I knew all that but I simply didn't care. I suppose it was a form of breakdown but at the time I didn't care if I lived or died.
I drove off what passed for a main road onto a narrow side road which at the best of times would not be an easy drive. In the driving snow it was insane but I suppose that is what I was. The car struggled, slipping and sliding as the road wound uphill, sometimes between trees and sometimes clear. I saw the bend ahead and I saw the barrier that showed there was a steep drop on one side but I paid no attention and went into the bend faster than I should.
It felt like the car was dancing. It sort of took over, moving over the snowy ground like a ballet dancer, twirling away from the direction I intended to go. The car didn't hit hard, but the barrier was not robust at all, more of a warning than anything, and it gracefully gave way. The car lurched through and dropped away. I felt no fear for it was all happening in an odd slow motion way that seemed totally unreal. There was a moment when my stomach seemed to somersault as the car dropped, and then there was a huge thump as we hit solid ground.
There was an awful pain across my knees as I suppose part of the car folded into me. The air bag failed to inflate and then, again in slow motion, the car seemed to tilt and fall and the roof came down on my head. There was a most terrible pain for a moment and then nothing.
---oOo---
When I say nothing I mean nothing. Once when I was a teenager I was in an accident and spent several days in an intensive care unit. I was vaguely aware of things; I felt thirsty but seemed unable to open my eyes or speak. I could hear vague noises and voices as if they were in a bath tub somewhere. It was all very odd but this nothingness wasn't like that. There were no sounds, no dream, no vague sensations. It was all just... nothing. Then I opened my eyes.
There was no break between the nothing and opening my eyes. It was like turning on a light... off...on. I found I was lying face down in snow and it was a bright clear morning. I had no pain, no injuries and at that point wasn't even cold. I was wearing the same clothes but they weren't wet with snow or anything. There was a large daft looking d
og just centimetres from my face. It was looking at me and when I opened my eyes it began barking. It turned and barked up the steep slope behind me.
I sat up. I felt wonderful. My eyesight seemed sharp and clear, my hearing keen, and my whole body hummed with good health and well-being. I had none of the jaded feeling from my eighty hour weeks or the sour taste of too much coffee. Looking around I could see that the road above was where I had crashed. There was a barrier of sorts but it was made of rough wooden poles with crudely painted red and white bands. It didn't look like the one I hit and it wasn't broken. There was no car nor any sign of one. The snow was unmarked and there weren't even tracks leading to where I lay. To say I was puzzled would be understating it. I remembered the pain of the crash in my knees and head, but there was no evidence of injury at all. None, not a sign even of a scratch. Then I began to feel cold.
"Hello down there."
"Hello," I called back.
"Are you injured?"
"No."
"If I drop a rope down can you use it to walk back up? Its steep, I know, but can you do it?"
"Yes I can."
I didn't know at the time what the rope was secured to but down it came and I used it to help me walk and climb back up the steep slope. The further up the bank the clearer it was that this was where I had crashed, except it had stopped snowing. The twin mysteries were how the barrier seemed so different and what had happened to my car. I got to the top where a man helped me over the barrier. He was tall and thick set wearing a heavy brown duffle coat. He stepped back in shock when he saw me and I wondered why.
"Here," he said removing his coat, "you'd best put this on before you die of cold."