by Susan Thomas
The Spanking of WPC Anne Martin
by
Susan Thomas
All rights reserved
Copyright © January 2017 by Susan Thomas
Published by LSF Publications
http://www.lsfpublications.com/
Cover design by Nathaniel Scott.
All names, characters, organisations, places, events and incidents featured in this work are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
The year is 1960, and Woman Police Constable Anne Martin is a new member of the Police Force who soon finds that a serious mistake on her part leads to corporal punishment in the form of a slippering from Sergeant Peters. It is the first of many spankings in store for Anne. The young woman can easily pass as a sixteen-year-old, and is sent on an undercover mission to a girls' boarding school on the coast. In her role of sixth form schoolgirl, Anne is tasked to find out which member of staff is responsible for drug smuggling. The school has a very strict disciplinary policy, and it isn't long before Anne is spanked and caned ... all in the line of duty! The intrepid young WPC successfully completes her mission, and leaves with a very sore bottom.
After being promoted to Detective Constable, Anne's next assignment is to pose as a hostess at The Tamarisk Club, with the objective of finding out who shows up at the meetings held there by the nefarious Bartlett gang. The club manager, Mr Tasker, gives her the job, making it clear that she must be nice to the customers, and that he will spank her bare bottom when she breaks the rules. Anne quickly finds she gets spanked even when she doesn't break the rules! Her bottom pays a further price when she is sought out for a session with a distinguished member of the club. He has her dress as a schoolgirl and enjoys disciplining her, but Anne is jubilant when she works out his real identity.
Her career in the force progresses nicely, and her feelings for Detective Superintendent Tom Craig develop. All the spankings she has received in the line of duty make her eager to sample a fun spanking with the handsome Tom ... and it seems he is more than happy to oblige...
Britain 1960: Queen Elizabeth gives birth to Prince Andrew; Cyprus gains its independence from Britain; Harold Macmillan is Prime Minister; the Beatles first appear in Hamburg under that name; and Anne Martin becomes the youngest ever Woman Police Constable in her force.
---oOo---
"Martin, you'll be working here with me today. When the others go out on patrol I want a word."
"Yes Sarge."
Anne gave no thought to the rearrangement. Sergeant Peters probably had some boring paperwork he wanted to shift and as she was very new, very young and a woman, she was obviously the first choice. Not that she minded. The sergeant was good; he really knew his stuff and he was no overbearing bully like some were. He was fair-minded, very particular about doing things right for sure, but not unkind.
The station emptied as the old shift made their way home and the new went out on patrol. It was Wednesday evening and it was quiet in the little market town. There was no one in the cells, no one else around and unlikely to be for some while in this small station.
"You wanted to see me, Sarge."
"Yes I did, WPC Martin. Have you heard the case against Jimmy Sullivan collapsed in court?"
"No! Why, what happened?"
"Missing evidence. The judge tore strips off the prosecution for poor preparation."
Jimmy Sullivan was a serial burglar. The trouble was he was also seriously stupid and always got caught, usually with a whole string of offences to be taken into consideration. He wasn't violent or dangerous, just a bloody nuisance, and this time it was hoped he'd go down for a fairly long stretch.
"That's ridiculous." Anne sounded very prim. "There were three boxes of evidence. I assembled them for the detectives and sent them up."
Without a word Sergeant Sam Peters produced a box from under his counter and banged it down in front of her.
Anne sucked in her breath, "Oh my, didn't I..."
"Apparently not," the sergeant said dryly.
"What's going to happen to me?"
"Well they don't know it was you. It seems that some fool at the court signed for three boxes so they think it went missing there. They have been scouring the courts for it but no luck so far. They don't even know who to blame. Now I have a problem."
Anne was horrified. This was a terrible thing to have done. It could have been a rapist or a murderer. "Problem?"
"Yes Martin, a problem. Actions, my girl, have consequences, and so by rights I should report this. However, if I do your career is over. Oh, they probably won't chuck you off the force but you'll be visiting schools and directing traffic from now on. That would be a shame as you're bright and could go a fair way... for a woman of course."
Anne was fighting to hold back tears. She felt as if she had stepped into a lake of horse manure right up to her neck.
"However, I am getting too old to always do what I should. Jimmy is now off and no amount of wishing will change that. The stupid fool will probably get caught again very soon. No one can be blamed because it could have been any one of a dozen people or so they think. Of course it couldn't, because WPC Anne Martin didn't put it on the van, but since that idiot up at the court signed for it, they don't know. But," and here he looked very stern, "that means you get away with being very sloppy indeed and that offends me. In my book those who do wrong or make serious mistakes should suffer the consequences. So as I say, a problem. It's a sort of moral dilemma; do I do what I should or deal with you in a totally different way?"
Anne had an idea where this was going. There were always rumours flying around the ranks of the WPCs about how some sergeants, or even more senior officers, dealt with 'problems' when it was a woman involved. Sergeant Peters wasn't like some of them but that didn't mean he wouldn't use the same methods.
"What different way, Sarge?"
"I'm old enough to be your father, Martin. How does your father deal with your bad behaviour?"
Yes she was right, that was the way the wind was blowing. Well the sergeant was no lascivious bully. If that was what he intended she wouldn't fight it.
"My father died when I was eleven, Sarge."
He looked genuinely shocked and clearly felt sorry for her. It was a different voice entirely that said, "Oh I am sorry, Martin. I know how that feels. My dad died down the pit when I was nine. Not easy is it."
They stood in silent contemplation and then Anne decided it was time to stop delaying, "I think I know where this is going Sarge. You mean corporal punishment don't you?"
"Yes Martin, I do. I can't see any other way of dealing with this can you? You were careless and you have to learn that you can't be. I could report it, but what is gained other than your career down the drain? Nothing. Jimmy will still be out and nobody at the court is on the hook, so not a thing. You are young and I am more than old enough to be your father. A sore backside will serve to punish and remind you to be thorough with your work."
It took Anne back to when her father was alive. That was pretty much his attitude and his tone of voice; actions had consequences and when his daughter misbehaved, over his knee she went. That made her think; going over the sergeant's knee wasn't a pleasant thought, indeed any kind of corporal punishment wasn't attractive, but that was particularly embarrassing to think about.
"What exactly did you have in mind, Sarge?"
"In the lost property is that pair of leather slippers. You take yoursel
f into the store room, bare and bend, and I give you a good hard spanking with that slipper. Then you vow to be a great deal more thorough in future."
Anne was relieved. So, not over his knee, but there was the 'bare and bend' bit. That was horribly embarrassing, but she'd heard rumours that it did happen to girls in the force (and also in the WRENS and WAAF) from time to time. Some thought it terrible but some thought it good; it was an option never offered to the young men and it was preferable to a bad record. She wondered what would happen if she refused. Sergeant Peters was not likely to let her get away with it. If she didn't 'bare and bend' he would report her; better embarrassment and a sore bum than a bad record.
"I'm very sorry Sarge. I think I know what happened. I was due to go off duty, the van was late and there was a lot to go on. I must have rushed it. It's a terrible thing to have done. I'll be very careful in future as I don't want it going on my record. I'll go to the store room."
"A sensible decision Martin. Go now and get ready while it's quiet. Best take a chair in to bend over. I'll give you time before I come in."
Anne picked up one of the plain wooden chairs put out for members of the public who had to wait. On her way to the store room she began to tremble. She hadn't had any corporal punishment since Miss Flowers, her headmistress, had given her two strokes of the cane on each hand when she was fourteen. She laughed … Miss Flowers would certainly approve of what was about to happen to her; they had never got on and she had been a regular visitor to the head's office.
Anne put the chair in the dusty store room and shut the door behind her. Now what should she do? She took off her uniform cap and put in an empty shelf. Her tunic came right down over her bottom. That would be in the way so she first undid the belt that went around her waist and then the tunic buttons. Folding the jacket carefully she laid that with the cap. Her instruction was to bare and bend, but her heavy uniform skirt came down a good two inches beneath her knees. That would be hard to lift up. She almost panicked. She was going to have to practically undress to take this punishment.
It took several deep breaths for Anne to calm herself. Alright, the skirt had to come off. She undid it, and stepping out of it folded it to join her cap and tunic. She stood shaking her head. Oh God, this was so embarrassing! The underskirt all WPCs had to wear must also come off as it would just be a nuisance. Soon it too was with the rest of her uniform. Now to bare herself. Again she had to fight with herself to go further. She believed other girls had done this but it was just so horribly embarrassing. She undid the garter belt, freeing the regulation dark stockings she had to wear, and then taking a huge breath to steady herself was about to pull her panties down. No! She'd wait until he came in. She pulled the chair to her and stood behind the back, bending over it to test the position. This was going to be quite horrible.
The door opened and Sergeant Peters came in carrying the leather slipper. In the lost property it had looked perfectly harmless, but no longer. Now it looked menacing. It was a large one made for a big man out of good quality heavy leather. There was heel but the style had a cut away part where the bridge of the foot would be. She could see by the way the sergeant was handling it that it made it ideal to hold and land a good solid whack with the sole. The sole itself was good thick leather and it took no imagination to know that it was going to hurt.
"Well done Martin. I see you are taking this in the right spirit. Now let's have the last stage and get on with your punishment."
Anne felt herself blushing at what she had to do next. Just standing in front of him with so little on was bad enough. She turned and taking a deep breath she pulled her panties down to her knees and bent over the chair. She held the seat on either side, unsure how much it was going to hurt.
He said nothing more but abruptly there was a mighty blow across her bottom. The whack of the leather on her bare bottom filled the room, but the slightly delayed sting made her gasp. "Uh!" Anne was ashamed of the noise she had made. Wasn't she supposed to take punishment stoically?
Whack! Again the sound filled the room. She gasped and then the sting seemed to multiply and she gasped again. Her knees bent in a vain attempt to ease the stinging. She wondered how many he was giving her.
Whack! "Aaah!" She moved over the chair, horrified by the deep stinging on her bottom. She panted a little to try and control the pain. It was hurting far more than she had thought possible.
Whack! "Aah! Ow! Oh!" Anne felt overwhelmed by the ultra-hot stinging that now seemed to be everywhere on her bottom. She lifted a leg and put it down and wriggled. It was all in vain, it still hurt.
Whack! "Aaaow!" She couldn't keep still. Each whack now seemed to be worse than the one before. She wriggled and began to pant a little.
"Keep still Martin."
"Sorry Sarge, but it hurts."
There was no answer to that except another huge blow across her bottom. For a brief moment she went even further over the chair and then let out a yell before moving back again. It seemed the worst whack so far. The fiery sting burnt hotter and deeper than ever and didn't seem to want to ease.
"Oh God!"
The sound of another hard whack with the slipper filled the store room. Anne gave a loud yell and abruptly stood upright, her hands flinging around to fan her bottom.
"Bend, Martin. I haven't finished your spanking yet."
Anne stood hopping around from foot to foot fanning her bottom. "I'm sorry. Sorry. It hurts."
"Bend, Martin."
"Yes Sarge. Sorry."
She felt ashamed of herself. She wasn't bothered about her modesty any more. She was now ashamed of her inability to take her punishment stoically. The bloody slipper really hurt.
The next whack was followed swiftly by another. "Ow, ow, ow." She partly stood again, wanting to bring her hands back to protect her bottom. Sergeant Peters put his hand on her back and pushed her down again. "Martin, I want you to stay in place until I have finished. Clear?"
"Yes Sarge." She gripped the chair tightly knowing much more and she'd be crying. She could feel the tears welling up behind her eyes and was desperate to avoid crying. She was a constable, she wasn't meant to burst into tears like a little girl.
The whacks fell faster now but no lighter. Anne's cries grew louder and shriller with each whack and she most definitely didn't remain still, but she didn't jump up either. She was praying that twelve would be the number, but Sergeant Peters didn't stop at twelve. He paused for a moment and then told her, "I'm giving you three more hard ones. Do not jump up."
Anne screeched when the thirteenth connected with her very sore bottom. Then the tears began. The fourteenth and fifteenth whacks produced great gulping sobs and when he told her to stand, she couldn't stand still. She wriggled and shook as her bottom burnt and burnt. It had only been a leather slipper for pity's sake, and she was reduced to blubbering like a baby.
"Now then Martin. Do you think you've learnt your lesson?"
Anne turned to look at him. Her face was red and blotchy now, her eyes red and full, her face wet with tears. She made no attempt to put her hands in front of her but held her hot throbbing bottom.
"Yes Sarge. I'll check, double check and treble check everything now, especially evidence. I promise it will never happen again. Honestly."
"Good. Go and sort yourself out and then report to me." He turned to go.
"Sarge… you won't tell anyone will you?"
"It never happened, Martin. Three boxes left here and were signed for at the court. We'll bury the box among the pre-war records."
"I didn't mean that Sarge. I meant the spanking. You won't tell anyone, will you?"
"I'm a father, Martin. Fathers don't boast about spanking daughters. I know you're not my daughter but you are the right age and that's how I view it. Now hurry up and make yourself presentable."
"Yes Sarge, and thank you. Thank you very much."
---oOo---
Anne felt the school breakfast sitting like half-set concrete in her stomach:
grey porridge with a dollop of syrup; rubbery and half cold scrambled eggs with a miserly piece of streaky bacon and a tinned tomato; and to finish, cold toast with margarine and the thinnest marmalade she had ever encountered. Not even the police canteen was that bad. The mugs of tea were weak and Anne wasn't at all sure that the tea leaves used to make it hadn't been recycled from yesterday. Now she queued with the other Lower Sixth girls (who were sixteen to seventeen years old) to go into assembly. Miss Drake-Harrington (MA Oxon), the deputy head, was conducting a knicker inspection. Anne was amazed that this kind of humiliation could be imposed on seventeen year old girls. She didn't think her secondary modern school would have thought about doing it for a second, but these were wealthy boarders, and that, it seemed, made a difference. She reached the deputy head and as required, lifted her skirt up to her hip to reveal her red school knickers, and was passed on into assembly.
Amanda Bentley was standing to one side looking fed up. She had evidently been caught wearing her pink nylon knickers, and after assembly, those knickers would be around her ankles while Miss Drake-Harrington applied six sizzling strokes of the cane to her bottom. The discipline at St Agnes of Clitheroe Academy for Girls was incredibly strict, and even sixth formers were liable for corporal punishment if found in breach of the many school rules.
Doctor Hardcourt (MA Oxon, D. Phil.) droned on in assembly and Anne drifted off into recalling exactly what she was doing pretending to be Anne Martin, a sixteen-year-old sixth former at the Academy.
---oOo---
"Martin, you'll be working here with me today. When the others go out on patrol I want a word."
"Sarge, am I in trouble again?" The memory of her spanking from Sergeant Peters was still fresh.
"No Martin."
After the shift change was over and the station quiet again, he had told her to go up to Inspector Baker's office. Inspector Baker was a fool, and everyone knew it was Sergeant Peters who really ran the station, so what the inspector could want with her she couldn't imagine. Baker left the moment she arrived, leaving her with a man in a tweed suit. It was none other than Detective Superintendent Craig, a man with a formidable reputation and tipped to be Chief Constable one day.