by Ashe Barker
North lays a finger over my lips to signal me to be quiet.
He calls out to the other man. “I’m here. Won’t be a sec.”
“Where’s the stuff for C wing?” We hear the sound of wheeled bins being shunted around as Jackson searches for his first delivery of the afternoon.
“Over there, by the door.” Jared steps away from me, and winks. He actually bloody well winks at me before he turns and strides off to help the other man. By the time I peer around the edge of the washing machine North is ushering Jackson out of the room. He glances back over his shoulder and lifts a hand to me as he follows the other prisoner, leaving me alone to make my escape.
* * *
My heart is in my mouth as I clock on for my next shift. I can’t face North again after what happened yesterday, I just can’t. I report to the poky, cluttered wing office to learn that staffing levels are a little better so the lockdown is relaxed. Education is reinstated, and some free association is permitted for prisoners with enhanced status.
I’m stationed on G wing as usual so I take up my normal position at the end of the recreation hall to keep an eye on things. Aside from my personal tribulations we’re still on alert for potential disturbances. The cell search of a couple of days ago did nothing to calm the prisoners’ mood and we all know that if there’s going to be trouble, it will start out here.
Today though things seem unusually calm, and I spend an hour exchanging clipped pleasantries with the men who wander down toward my end. For the most part they are civil to me, and I find it works best if I return the courtesy. We all get along better then. Not all officers see the point in engaging in conversation with prisoners, an attitude I find frankly baffling. My more experienced colleagues such as Jim insist I’ll come around to their way of thinking eventually. I sincerely hope not.
“Go on, you can take your break now if you like.” The wing supervisor, Mr. Drummond, has arrived to take over the watch. He’s an officer with twenty years under his belt and he reckons he knows everything there is to know about incarcerating offenders. He’s a great believer in keeping prisoners in line, showing them who’s boss, in whatever way seems to work. Mr. Drummond has been on report for using ‘excessive force’ a number of times and actually brags about it. He makes me nervous, and the men loathe him. But he’s in charge and I’m not, so I nod and move toward the outer gate.
Then I pause, look back over my shoulder. I know Jared North isn’t in the recreation room because I’d have noticed—definitely. I escorted Bako, one of his cellmates, down to the education block earlier so he’s not going to be back for a while yet, and yes, the third man is playing snooker. That means there’s a reasonable chance I’ll find Prisoner KG8329 alone in his cell. I can’t avoid him so I might as well face the problem head on. At the very least I owe him an apology for my appalling behaviour yesterday, and I’m still uncomfortable about the way I curtailed his gym session earlier in the week. This might be an ideal time to talk to him, especially as I’m on my break so I can’t be accused of time-wasting.
I turn on my heel and march back along the wing to the cells at the far end.
North’s door is ajar, and I hear the low hum of the radio coming from inside. I halt at the entrance and peer round the door. All three bunks are empty. Disappointed, I start to withdraw.
“Something I can do for you, Miss MacBride?” The voice is drawling, not quite mocking me but not far from it. There is something in North’s tone that always causes my stomach to clench. Despite what happened between us yesterday I know he dislikes me, and I understand why. I’m a screw, it’s in the nature of our relationship that he should distrust and despise me, but still his contempt hurts. That kiss yesterday confused things but I doubt anything has fundamentally changed. I wish the situation were different. I wish I could impress him, somehow manage to earn his approval, if only a little.
My apology for grabbing and groping him yesterday might help. I step right inside the cell. North is seated at the table behind the door, which had concealed him from my sight at first. He has a pen in his hand and a sheet of paper laid out in front of him.
“I’m glad I’ve caught you.”
One dark, sardonic eyebrow lifts. “Oh, were you thinking I might have slipped out then? Gone down the pub, perhaps, or decided to catch the latest Bond movie? Leeds United are at home this afternoon, maybe you thought I’d be at the match.”
I know better than to react. I take a deep breath and continue. “I just wanted to talk to you for a moment, that’s all. But if I’m disturbing you, it can wait.” I take step back, intending to leave him to whatever he’s doing.
“Wait, Miss MacBride.” His tone is stern and authoritative. I find myself obeying. Again. He lays his pen down on the table and smiles at me, his expression nothing short of dazzling. “That was uncalled for. I didn’t mean to be rude. What was it you wanted to talk about?”
I step back inside and pull the door closed behind me to reduce the likelihood of being overheard. There is nothing wrong in an officer speaking to a prisoner one to one, but this conversation is private and I prefer to keep it between ourselves.
“I wanted to apologise, about yesterday. And about your gym session.”
“Oh?” He lifts that eyebrow again but says nothing more to help.
“Yes.” I decide to concentrate on the gym; it’s the less personal of the two incidents. “For cutting short your workout. I know how much you enjoy using the gym, so…”
He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “As I understood it, you were doing unpaid overtime just escorting me up there.”
“I was, but you still had to finish early and I’m sorry. That’s all, really.”
“Was it your fault?”
“That’s not the point. It wasn’t your fault either, but you were the one to lose out.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Miss MacBride. I asked you if it was your fault.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“So, why are you here? Really?”
“I told you, to apologise.”
“Why, if it was none of your doing? How were you responsible? Why do you think you owe me an apology?”
“Because I was late taking you up there, and I made you leave before your hour was up. I was already on overtime—”
“Unpaid overtime.”
“Yes, unpaid, but I was there anyway, so I could have stayed longer. I should have. I could tell you were angry, so I thought…” I run out of words. This was a bad idea, I should never have started this conversation.
“And yesterday?”
“I should never have done—that. It was unprofessional.”
“Which bit?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, was it unprofessional to hide my camera from the cell search? Or to take it home with you, then bring it back in here for me? Or maybe it was the kiss that’s bothering you, although that was the bit I preferred the most.”
“All of it,” I confirm, utterly miserable. “I can’t even start to think what got into me. Or what you must think. I don’t normally leap on prisoners like that.”
“No? That’s a pity.” He pauses, cocking his head to one side as he peruses me with interest. “Is that it? Have you covered everything now? All your sins laid bare?”
“It’s enough. You’d be within your rights to report me for sexual harassment.”
His eyes widen, then he laughs out loud. “Miss MacBride, you really are full of surprises. You thought I was angry with you? Offended even?”
“Yes, of course. Or you should be. I behaved like a, a…”
“A slut?”
“What? No!”
“No?”
“Well, yes. Perhaps. I’m not like that, though, not really.”
“And that bothers you?”
“Yes. A little.”
“A little?”
His expression of disbelief suggests I�
�m not fooling him at all. He’s right. Under his questioning I find myself wanting to admit that his displeasure over the last couple of days bothers me a lot. Much more than I at first realised.
“More than a little,” I agree. “I’ll try to make it up to you?”
“I see. And how do you intend to do this, Miss MacBride? Extra visiting privileges, perhaps? Or maybe some more money to spend? Do you have money for me, Miss MacBride?”
“Of course not.” I am indignant at the suggestion. I might have something of a temporary crush on this particular prisoner, which has led to some serious lapses in judgement, but a bent officer I am not. “I just wanted to make it right, that’s all, and if you think I’m going to let you use this as an excuse to get extra privileges then you can think again. It’s not happening.” I turn to leave.
“Wait.” The single word drips with authority. It’s another command; he expects me to obey.
I turn to face him, my hand still on the door. “Yes?”
“I accept your apology, Miss MacBride, but if you were in the wrong over all these matters, and you clearly believe that you were, then that deserves a punishment, does it not? Isn’t that how these things work?”
“Is it?”
“I think so. And so do you. That’s why you’re here.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“You came here to be punished.”
“No, I didn’t.”
I tip up my chin as he gets to his feet to pace to the far end of the cell. He leans on the wall eight feet from where I stand and he watches me. His arms are folded across his chest, and just like yesterday he is quite still, quite calm, which is more than can be said for me. My heart is thumping, my breathing rapid. I dread to think what is happening to my blood pressure under that cool, hard scrutiny.
At last, he speaks. “Miss MacBride, you deserve a spanking. A good, hard spanking and I’m more than happy to oblige you.”
“That’s ridiculous!” I can’t believe he actually said something so outrageous.
“Is it? Okay then. You can close the door on your way out.” He makes no move toward me, nor does he return to his bunk. For myself, I am rooted to the spot.
His gaze is unwavering, assured. The corner of his lip quirks. He watches as I struggle to find my next words. He is patient, leisurely almost, allowing me all the time I need to process his shocking and wholly inappropriate suggestion. My voice when it emerges is more a strangled squeak.
“All right. Thank you.”
“Is that ‘all right, thank you, I’m leaving now’? Or ‘all right, thank you, please spank me’?”
My eyes must be like saucers. I can barely comprehend what he is proposing. “What, here? Now?”
“Here and now is where we find ourselves, so yes, I think that would be best.”
“Will it hurt?” Jesus, where did that come from?
“Oh, yes. Would you want it any other way?”
Probably not. My pussy is moistening as I anticipate what’s to come, despite the impossible situation. For heaven’s sake, anyone might walk in.
“You have keys, Miss MacBride. If you’re worried we might be disturbed you could always lock the door.”
I gape at him. Did I really voice my only objection out loud?
He smiles at me again and holds out his hand. “Let me, Miss MacBride. The keys, please?”
And—I do it. I actually hand over my keys to one of the prison inmates. It’s the cardinal sin among officers, and I’ve committed it without a murmur of protest. North steps around me to pull the door closed and uses my key to lock it. He then hands the heavy bunch back to me.
“You need to keep these safe, Miss MacBride.” He murmurs the advice, then drops a light kiss on my forehead.
Beyond amazed, I take the keys and shove them back in the pocket of my uniform trousers. Then I stand and stare at him, totally at a loss for what to do next. North helps me out of my predicament by sitting down again on the chair where he was seated when I entered. He leans back, his expression serious though not threatening in any sense. He hasn’t said so, but I have no doubt that if I chose to I could just unlock the door and walk out of here and he wouldn’t lift a finger to prevent me leaving.
“I’ll be spanking your bare bottom, so if you would be so good as to lower your trousers to your knees, then you can lie across my lap.”
“I… I…”
“Do not keep me waiting, Miss MacBride.”
“My name’s Molly.” I blurt it out. It seems important to me that if I’m to accept a spanking from this man, and it seems that I am doing just that, then he should at least know my name.
“Molly? That’s pretty. It suits you. I’m Jared, though I imagine you already knew that.”
I nod. I checked his records, though we never use other than last name and number to address a prisoner. “Jared,” I repeat. “I knew someone at school called Jared.”
“Did you?” He pauses for a few moments, his head cocked to one side. “Are you playing for time, Molly?”
“No, of course not.” I take a step toward him.
“Good, because even though we’re locked in here it won’t be long before someone comes looking for you. We wouldn’t want to be disturbed, would we?”
“No. I’m on my break, I have half an hour…”
“I see. That should be enough time. Shall we get on, then?”
“Yes, of course.” I move to stand beside him, wondering how to proceed. What is the protocol for this? Is there even such a thing?
“Your trousers, Molly. Bare bottom, remember. Perhaps you’d like to take off your jacket, too.”
I chew on my lower lip, every professional instinct, every shred of modesty I ever possessed screaming at me to turn now and run. I do none of that though. Instead, my fingers are shaking as I unbutton my uniform jacket and take it off. I lay it across the bunk I know to be Jared North’s then I unfasten the front of my trousers and lower the zip.
“Push them down, please.” He is implacable and not letting me off any of this. I have no choice but to do as he says. At this moment I have no notion where this craving to be spanked came from, even less where it has been lurking all these years. But once he shone his spotlight on my suppressed desire, I was somehow caught in the beam, unable to step away. And now, if I’m to receive the spanking I apparently crave, he will require me to prepare myself for it. I must bare my bottom, and submit to him.
It’s time to embrace the inevitable. I hook my thumbs over the waistband of my loosened trousers and I shove them down.
Chapter Two
I let out my breath, though I’m careful not to let her know I was holding it. Right up to the moment Molly dropped her pants for me, I expected her to bolt for the door. Usually so confident and assertive, the delectable Miss MacBride is completely vulnerable as she stands before me with her trousers around her knees. She hasn’t said as much, but I can read her well enough to be certain this is new to her, her first spanking. I consider myself a lucky man, and I have no intention of blowing this now.
“Would you turn up the volume of the radio?” I tilt my chin toward the TV sitting on the small chest of drawers beside my bunk. Molly obeys me, adjusting the sound to a level likely to at least mask any noise we might make.
I pat my lap, urging her to lay herself across my thighs. Having brought her to this point it’s best to move this on briskly now, not least because we have limited time and I have no intention of rushing at the end. Also in my experience a new submissive requires direction and firm control to get her past the initial shyness and insecurity. From the way she’s trembling in front of me it’s clear that Molly MacBride is painfully shy about what’s going to happen to her and is racked with nerves.
“You don’t have to do this, you do know that? Yesterday’s over and done with, there’ll be no hard feelings.” She’s scared, but it’s taken courage and determination to get this far. I doubt she’l
l back out now, but I have to ask.
“I know that. I… I want this. I want you to do this. Please, be quick.” She throws herself forward to dangle across my lap, her stomach on my thighs and her head just off the floor. She grabs hold of my ankle to steady herself. Her trousers are down, but her crisp white cotton shirt is quite long at the back and covers her bottom. I leave that for now as I arrange her more securely. It would never do for her to fall. I lift my knee a little to elevate her bottom—I prefer her pretty little cheeks to be nice and high for what I have in mind.
My cock has been stiffening since she first uttered the words ‘I’m sorry,’ and is rock solid now. She can’t but be aware of my monster boner nudging her waist as I pull her in close and slide my leg over both of hers to trap her in position. I’m not really expecting a struggle, and if she asks me to I’ll let her up anyway, but a firm approach usually pays dividends. No woman wants to be spanked by a man who doesn’t seem to mean business. Well, that’s been my observation anyway. Sure enough, almost as soon as I take charge she settles and her body relaxes.
I take hold of the hem of her shirt between my fingers. “May I?”
She nods, and tenses again. I lift her shirt to reveal her perfect, round bottom, still covered in her pristine white, sheer lace knickers. It’s all I can do to not shoot my load right here and now. I have never seen anything quite so fucking beautiful in my life. Who would have dreamed such a treat lay beneath those serviceable prison-issue trousers? If this little adventure means I end up spending the remainder of my sentence in solitary with the sex offenders and violent psychopaths, it’ll have been worth it. Pity about the parole though.
I shove that unwelcome thought aside. “This is a bare-bottom spanking. Molly. Nothing else counts. I love your taste in underwear, but we need to lose the knickers too.” I hook my fingers into the elastic at the top of her panties, and though my words are issued as a statement, we both know I’m seeking permission.