by Susan Thomas
I sat resentfully. It just wasn't fair, I was innocent, there had been a mistake which no one would acknowledge and now I had to suffer. I was also scared as well as resentful, and the longer I sat, the more scared I got. You should have seen the faces of some of those coming out of the booths: wet red eyes, mascara running, blotchy faces, rumpled clothing, hair awry and walking in the oddest way because their bottom was so sore.
There was a girl next to me who sobbed the whole time she sat there, and when it was her turn, walked in sobbing. A teenage boy sat next to her. He was about eighteen I'd say and very white-faced with dark rings under his eyes, but he sat bolt upright and walked in with a straight back when his turn came. He looked red-faced when he came out, but still walked with a straight back, just very carefully.
I sat worrying about what I was going to get. Penitence plc refused to change their levels just for the Ministry's 'therapies'. They remained in order: pink, lilac, mauve, green, red and black, with pink quite a light spanking and heaven alone knows how to describe black. There was a computer program that converted the sentence into a level, but I didn't even know what my sentence was since I had challenged it and then had it doubled, but from what to what and how did that convert to a level?
The pleasant voice chosen for the computer announcements called, "Lucy Pendle." My heart rate shot up as I stood and my mouth went dry. I took hold of my skirt on either side to stop my hands shaking and walked through the door leading to the corridor of booths. Flashing lights above an open door showed which booth I had to go to. I nearly wet myself when the door hissed shut behind me, it was scary being shut in this metal booth and knowing you could only get out when you were good and sore.
The booth asked in its irritatingly kindly voice, "You are Lucy Pendle?"
"Yes."
"Please give me your Identity Number."
"Seven zero seven, eight four three, nine one three seven."
"Please give me your date of birth."
"Ten, zero two, nineteen eighty-nine."
Thank you, Lucy. You are here for therapy prescribed by the Ministry of Justice. Please answer yes or no."
"Yes."
"Welcome Lucy, I have taken instructions, so you may now proceed to remove all your clothing from the waist down. Don't forget to remove your shoes."
I can't begin to explain how I felt at having to submit like this to a computer controlled machine. To me it was the ultimate in humiliation, and what's more I was innocent of any offence. I kicked off my shoes (why be tidy?), undid my skirt and hung it up, and then resentfully pulled off my tights and knickers and hung them up on the thoughtfully provided hooks. I felt really embarrassed being undressed in this manner - stupid I know, given it's a machine but I suspected there was probably a camera and I thought of some leery man gawping at my partial nudity caught on video.
There is an inner and outer part to these booths and I knew I now had to go into where I would be made horribly sore. Since I wouldn't be allowed out of the booth until I was, there was no point in delay and I stepped into the inner part of the booth; the door hissed shut behind me.
"Lucy, the Punishment Selector Program has equated the sentence prescribed by the Ministry of Justice with Level Black."
I nearly fainted... Black was the worst, the highest level. It is surprising how quickly the mind works sometimes and I realised how it had been arrived at. Being stopped by a police officer because of bad behaviour would alone earn you an optional punishment or community service. Being drunk and disorderly with it was another offence and insulting an officer, even if relatively mildly, was yet another. The law was now very strong against bad behaviour in public, so I had a triple whammy, or rather whoever did it, had. Then I had appealed. I now saw why Mr Witherspoon was worried... unless you had a rock solid reason, the courts tended to get very cross about appeals. My three offences had been doubled to six and I was really in for it now. I felt terribly sick, so sick I couldn't follow the instructions given by the computer, which had to repeat them.
Finally, shaking like a leaf, I stood where the machine wanted me to and gripped the bar that was in front. It was horrible. Then something happened at my feet and they were suddenly imprisoned. True, it was soft and gentle but the feeling of not being able to move them terrified me, and this weird thing happened with the bar I was holding... it sort of sent out growths and they gripped my wrists, very gently for sure but firmly. I could still open and close my hands or even choose not to hold the bar to a degree, but I couldn't get my hands away, they were held. Then there was a soft sound as if someone was breathing 'ffffff' through open lips and a large padded bar came out in front of me at the level of my tummy. I began to whimper because it was all happening now; the floor seemed to shift while the bar stayed still and I was inexorably put into a bent-over position and utterly unable to move.
"Lucy, the record shows you have never been in a penitence booth before. I recommend you become a member and make regular visits, it is good for the soul."
I screamed, "How would you know, you're a bloody machine?"
The voice was not offended. "You will be chastised with four instruments, Lucy. I recommend that you hail each one and the cleansing it will bring you. At all times, I will monitor your physical condition to keep you safe. The first instrument is the paddle."
I craned my head around with a mouth so dry that I thought it must be stuck forever. I saw that paddle come out and couldn't look any more. Suddenly, there was a huge hard smack across my bottom which promptly ignited. I shouted out with the shock of how hot it felt, and then it smacked down again but in a slightly different place. It is hard to describe how I felt bent over like that with my bare bottom being whacked by a machine that would listen to no pleas; it is a most horrible feeling.
Each smack of the paddle across my bottom was like being hit by molten steel. It simply burnt again and again until my whole bottom was one huge fiery furnace. It just seemed to go on and on and no way could I keep count - smack after smack, and what made it worse, I could hear the wretched thing as it smacked on my bare bottom with a most unpleasant sound. I began to panic, unsure how many of these I could stand and fearful of the other three instruments I had been promised. I tried to pull away from my bent over position but one might just as well spit at the moon... the machine held me gently fast.
I was crying out and tears were flowing but the machine took no notice, just continued with the spanking and imparting the blistering heat into my poor bottom. Then abruptly it stopped and I heard a sound as the paddle was retracted.
"Lucy, my instruments tell me you are not welcoming the cleansing of your chastisement."
"I'm innocent," I screamed, "innocent do you understand? Innocent."
"Lucy, the machine chided gently, "none are fully innocent."
It was pointless arguing; the whole philosophy of Penitence PLC is that constant self-refection and regular spanking is required to maintain a wholesome life. I whimpered when it announced that I was now in for the strap.
The strap felt utterly different to the paddle with its huge blow and fiery impact. It seemed thin and when it struck it was wicked; a venomous line, ten thousand concentrated wasp stings appeared across my soft bottom. I screamed but the next came right after. Soon, as with the paddle, I lost all track of how many and just felt this endless repetition of the wasp sting effect until my already sore bottom had endless lines of them. It took me quite a while to realise that the sound it made was different from the paddle... it sounded narrower if that makes sense. I gripped the bar so hard that, had it been alive, I would have strangled it. Finally, the wicked thrashing with the strap ceased and I heard the soft sound of its retraction.
"Lucy, you are not benefiting from the cleansing. My instruments sense underlying anger."
"I am bloody angry," I screamed. "I'm bloody well innocent."
The machine was not offended; its kindly voice explained that I would now be receiving the Penitence PLC's nine-tailed whi
p which was apparently unique to these booths. It ignored my crude response.
I wish I could describe to you the horrors of that whip; it was far, far worse than either the paddle or the strap or even the cane which came after. Even the sound, as it swished through the air towards my bottom, was chilling. When it strikes there is an enormous stinging everywhere across the bottom, down onto the thighs and around the hips. It's not hard as such but it is just pure evil in its effect. The tips of the whip seem to bury themselves into you; they don't really but that's how it feels, and those vicious tips get everywhere. I was hit a good many times, even on my vagina. I screeched each time the whip struck... each and every time. No self-restraint for me, I just let rip until I was hoarse and I still kept screeching.
"Lucy, my instruments tell me you are nowhere near a true state of penitence. It is in your own interests to welcome the cleansing of your chastisement."
I didn't reply or comment nor did I say anything when 'she' informed me that I was now in the final stages of my therapy and that I would receive the cane. The cane was agonising; each stroke dug deeply into my bottom and left horrible pain in its wake. On my already well-thrashed bottom it was so much worse. Perhaps I would have handled it better if it had just been a caning and nothing else, but now I strained constantly to get away - all quite pointless and I just wore myself out as the number of strokes mounted and the welts crossed each other. In the end I was so tired I simply stopped fighting while the cane beat my bottom and I croaked out what noises I could. Then, once again, it ended abruptly and I was released from what had been holding me and gently moved back into a standing position once more.
"Lucy, your therapy is at an end. Do you require assistance to get dressed and leave?"
I was so exhausted with all the crying and screaming and my bottom hurt so much that I didn't care if a robot came to help, though I really wanted my mum. I croaked out, "Yes...please."
The inner door opened with its soft 'fffff' sound and then the outer door opened briefly, admitting an older woman in a nurse's uniform; the door closed behind her. She was extremely kind, cleaning and refreshing my face with something and helping me to get dressed, being very careful of my poor bottom. She helped me out to the front door too and I spotted scared faces in the waiting room looking away.
Mum was great and got me back to the family house very quickly. She'd been looking after my purse while I'd been in there and now gave it back. I found myself putting it down on the kitchen worktop alongside hers before going upstairs for treatment in her bedroom. As I was half way up the stairs it suddenly came to me what had happened about my ID. I always put my purse down on the worktop and there were always neighbours in and out of the kitchen. Suppose someone had taken a copy?
While mum attended to my sore bottom and I swallowed a strong dose of pain killers, I broached my idea.
"Lucy, they are all my friends, who on earth would do that?"
Then we both were hit with the same idea and shouted together, "Amber!"
Amber Connell is a spoilt, troublemaking bitch whose parents are so besotted with her they can't see it. She is not liked by anyone around here and has had trips to the 'therapy centre' before they closed them in favour of Penitence PLC. She was in the same year as me at school and hated me because I was good at school work. Also, she used to call me a 'stuck up cow', and when I got my own flat she said that proved it. She likes to go out drinking, and when my mum and I thought about it, she had been here when I had, not long before that D & D with IB cropped up. If she took a photo to get the barcode she had friends who could easily make her a copy of an ID card and she was about the same build and colouring as me.
"Well not much can be done about it now, even if we are right."
My mum was all practical as usual and later, after lots of family and neighbour sympathy, I went to my own place. However sore I might be, and I was very sore, I still had a client to meet the very next day. I knew I was pale and moving very stiffly, but then it is not uncommon these days what with all the judicial corporal punishment; the regular spanking of those still deemed to be in training (such as young newly qualified teachers); the companies that, unlike Maitland's, had Penitence Partnership contracts; not to mention all those, in my view, daft people who voluntarily went to a spanking booth. The client looked at me knowingly, but after that it was just business which, what with one thing and another, lasted most of the day.
I left his office and decided I would just go back to my flat, so headed homewards. I had only gone about a hundred metres when I saw Sergeant Benfield standing supervising a random check of school kids on the way home. In spite of all the sore bottoms some kids still did stupid things like get cigarettes on the black market.
It was impulse that made me walk up to him. "Sergeant Benfield, remember me, Lucy Pendle?"
"Yes, Miss, I do."
He was very attractive; of that there was no doubt but I wanted to tell him something.
"OK, well I have had my therapy so have nothing to gain by saying this: it was not me that you caught drunk, I was in bed that night and anyhow never do drunk and disorderly."
He looked at me (I saw he had lovely blue eyes) and I could see he believed me but was puzzled.
"Well I made no mistake, Miss. I scanned Lucy Pendle's ID and if it was in your possession how could I have done that?"
"A forgery, and I am certain I know who."
I showed him a photo of Amber and explained my theory. He looked at me and, excusing himself, walked back to his car and was checking something. When he came back he had a thoughtful expression.
"Well now, you may, just may, be right. As it is Friday again is she the sort of girl who is likely to be in town again tonight?"
"Yes."
"Well I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll look out for her and whether she is misbehaving or not I'll check her ID. If she is carrying Lucy Pendle's ID... well, now I know you and can arrest her on the spot."
"Would she be in trouble?"
"Oh yes. Firstly she has used a forged ID. Secondly she used it to avoid punishment. Thirdly she knowingly allowed an innocent person to be punished. Reformatory, I would say, plus your record would be straightened out and you'd get compensation. That's all if though; if she is in town and if you are right and if she is carrying your ID."
I felt cheerful because I knew I was right and I was certain Amber was cocky enough to just carry on using my ID. She would think it fun to get me into trouble again. Sergeant Benfield started speaking again (what lovely broad shoulders he had and such a delightful speaking voice).
"It would be nice if I could tell you how it goes. I'm not on duty on Sunday... how about I take you to lunch and then I can debrief you so to speak."
I looked at him surprised and saw he fancied me as much as I fancied him so I agreed like a shot. He told me he'd pick me up and that there was a nice pub up on the moors that did fantastic lunches; then he had to get back to his duties.
As I walked away I felt very cheerful because suddenly the whole nightmare mistake was not looking so bad. I knew I'd be vindicated, Amber punished severely and then there was the dishy Sergeant Benfield. Being debriefed by him was something to look forward to.
Also by Susan Thomas...
Journey to Love
Soon after Kathy Anderton starts dating, she wonders why she is expected to have sex to keep a boyfriend - a view shared by her friend Kelly, who invites Kathy to attend her church. Kathy's mum is pleased with this development, particularly as she finds out she is dying of cancer, which prompts her to make arrangements with the vicar concerning Kathy's future. Coming to terms with her mother's death, Kathy is sad, scared and angry - angry that she was abandoned by a father she'd never known, and that both sets of grandparents refused to acknowledge her existence. Anger fuels her to research her father, and she discovers several Anderton's resident in a small rural town in America, and also finds a girls' college some twenty miles away. Kathy investigates further and finds
it to be a very strict Christian college with curfews, rules, mandatory attendance at the college chapel, and weekly meetings with tutors to discuss work grades and responsible attitude. Given that she has no stomach for the drinking and sex culture in British universities, she applies for a place - and is successful.
Her new life begins, and when she receives an invitation from Pastor Brad Hoctor to attend his family church, the ideal appeals to her. After the first service, she joins 'Pioneers', a group for the 16- to 21-year-olds in church, and subsequently has her first sight of Assistant Pastor Jack Myerscough - a handsome man who is to become a key influence. It seems that discipline within the church family is strict, and Pastor Jack has no qualms in spanking young women for their disruptive behaviour. This regime is all new to Kathy, but it doesn't stop her from accepting Jack's invitation to go out on a date with him - even though he later punishes her for her own failings. Kathy's developing relationship with Jack unfolds as she finds out more about her estranged family, and her ultimate acceptance of Jack's authority culminates in a happy ever after ending in this tale of Christian domestic discipline.
The Disciplined Women of Chapel Island
When 18-year-old Kate and her wealthy parents make yet another house move, this time to their luxury new home on Chapel Island, Kate senses from the outset that there is something both mysterious and exciting about the place. The island is beautiful, though somewhat unusual in that it has its own currency and a police and security force known as The Guardians - and it isn't long before Kate has her first encounter with them. Whilst exploring on her bicycle, she narrowly avoids colliding with a golf cart (the mode of transport on the island) and is later questioned by two Guardians who tell her that her mother will be informed.
Subsequently, Kate is puzzled when she notices that her mother has to go out and pay some kind of penalty, and on returning home is taken by her husband to his study where she later emerges rubbing her bottom. Kate's curiosity deepens and she follows her mother to the Accountability Suite in the House of the Guardians. As a result of Kate's investigations, she discovers that domestic discipline and corporal punishment are an accepted way of life on the island - and the reason Kate's parents chose to reside here. Under this regime, many infractions are dealt with publicly with all manner of spanking implements.