Copyright 2000, Rollin Hand. This is an adult story. It involves sex, spanking, scenes of prison whippings and other topics not suitable for children.

They reintroduced corporal punishment into the criminal justice system slowly. Change did not come about overnight but by 2010 nearly every country in the world, including the USA, had decided that "the CP option" provided a low cost, effective way of dealing with certain non-violent offenses that did not merit jail time. Prisons were expensive.

I'm Rollin Hand, an attorney in a little backwater called Elmwood, Ohio. It's near the Ohio River on the West Virginia border. I practice alone, general practice. Oh, yeah I used to have a hard charging big city practice in high tech litigation, but I burned out. So now it's just me, and Jane, my secretary. It sounds low key, but these are interesting times.

"There are two young ladies here to see you, Rollin," chirped Jane over the intercom. My secretary, Jane was new-- a slim, pretty, long legged brunette of about 30. Like many slender girls she had slim hips, but had a pouty, teardrop-shaped ass that very nicely filled the back of the tight short skirts she favored, which, I had to admit sheepishly, had influenced my hiring decision. She was bright and flirty and had this cute habit of referring to me as "boss". I liked that.

Ever since I had met Karen, my on again-- off again girlfriend, and had become involved with her life as a juvie probation officer, I had become more involved in the new laws permitting corporal punishment for various offenses. I had actually witnessed corporal punishment being meted out at the Juvenile Correction Center, and had listened to Karen's accounts of the less formal punishments that she had given or witnessed as part of her job. Hell, I had even "tested" the proficiency of the spanking implement she was authorized to use. It had been fun to test it on her, less fun for me to be the test subject, but I had to admit, when proceedings moved to the bedroom even that part had been worth it.

So now two girls were in my lobby? Who could this be? I didn't have any appointments and in fact I was looking forward to getting away early. I went out to the lobby and, lo and behold, there was Erin, a niece whom I hadn't seen in years, and with her was another girl. She was about Erin's age which had to be about 18 by now (I did some quick calculating) and gorgeous. About 5'6", long silky blonde hair in a Jennifer Anniston 'do, about 120 lbs and a shape to make heads turn, she stood in contrast to petite Erin who barely topped 5'. She had large green eyes and a look of girl-next-door wholesomeness that belied the devastating sex appeal of her face and curvy figure. Erin was very attractive herself and was decidedly cute. She had filled out nicely since I had seen her last, which was very noticable given the tight slacks she was wearing. But then she had always had a cute butt.

"Hi Uncle Rollin!" squealed Erin and grabbed me with a big hug. Erin had been one of my favorite kids. When she had been a little girl I had baby-sat on occasion and I had always given her something big and splashy at Christmas time. "Rollin, this is my friend Allison. She came with me on our trip."

Allison tossed her head, smoothed her hair and said "Hi" in a throaty voice and gave me a shy smile. Any man better watch that one, I thought.

"Erin you look great, cute as ever, but what brings you here?"

"Oh Uncle Rollin, I don't know, we may be in trouble. See-- we were on this trip to St John's in the islands and we left to come home but one of our friends is stuck there. We left in time but she's, well, stuck."

"What do you mean, stuck? And what were you doing vacationing? It's not spring breaklf a mind to come there myself. You know, if you were here, you and I would be making that long walk out to the tack room in the  barn...where the harness strap is," she added meaningfully. She folded her arms, glaring at Erin, obviously considering what to do. Addressing me she asked, " Rollin what is the penalty for truancy there where you are?"

I cleared my throat and looked at Erin then back at the screen. "Well, for habitual truancy if you are under 18 its a trip to the correction center and you would have to get a Certificate."

"A Certificate from the correction center? Hmmm....what happens there?"

"Ah...they generally have a lecture or a video specific to the offense, that they make the offenders watch, then..."

"A lecture? A video? Is that it?"

"No, let me finish...then the offender gets corporal punishment...actually a spanking in a group with other offenders. And for truancy I think it's also some licks with a paddle."

"Now that's more like it. Ok, here is what you do. Take Erin down there and sign her up for the full treatment. She needs a right smart whipping and..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Linnea. I can't do that. You can't just march your kid down there and say 'punish her for me'. She hasn't committed any crime in Ohio. And besides, she's over 18."

"Well she's acting like she was 15. Skipping school. The very idea. When she was 15 she pulled a stunt like this and I thought she'd never forget it. You remember, don't you Erin? We took a trip out to the barn then, didn't we?"

"Yes, Aunt Linnea, I do," said Erin miserably. "You gave me good licking with a harness strap. It hurt like anything."

"Hmm...but it didn't make a big enough impression I see. I'll have to think about what to do with you....wait, I know. Rollin, do you still date that corrections officer? What's her name?"

"Karen. Yes, I still see Karen." You couldn't keep a secret in this family. As the last batchelor, word of any relationship was duly noted and closely watched.

"Then here is my solution. Erin needs to get back to school, pronto. She also needs to be taught a good lesson for this little fiasco. I will help her out of any lingering trouble down there and I'm hiring you to do it, Rollin, but I want you to ask Karen to punish Erin privately, just like a truant in your jurisdiction...whatever they get. Will she do that, off the record, so to speak?"

"Ah, well, I don't know, I mean, Erin how do you feel about this?"
Even as Erin opened her mouth, Linnea cut in.
"It doesn't matter how SHE feels about it, Rollin. She needs to be punished for this. Its either that or she can forget about returning to school for awhile."

Erin spoke up, trying to be plucky. "It's OK Uncle Rollin." But actually she sounded miserable. I knew that feeling. She obviously felt guilty as sin." I know I deserve to be punished. I'll...I'll... take what's coming to me. But I'm so worried about Susan. Aunt Linnea, please, if I take my punishment from Uncle Rollin, will you let us help Susan?"

"I suppose, child, but first I want Rollin's friend to give you a damn good hiding-- just like you were a high school truancy case."

Now I had to speak up. "Ah, Linnea, Karen is not here now, she's in California with her mother, and anyway, I don't know that I could ask her to do this."
Linnea mulled this over for a minute.

"Well, Rollin, I guess that means you'll have to do it yourself. I know Erin is your favorite niece, but if you love her, you'll be my 'right arm' for me and give her the discipline she needs. A good licking from a male authority figure will do her a world of good."

Erin looked at me, and her face fell. Then she took a breath, gathered herself and said to me, "It's OK Uncle Rollin. I'd rather be punished by you anyway than some stranger."

"Fine," said Linnea, "that's settled then. Rollin take Erin home with you and call me later. Can you set up the minicam on your phone so that I can witness the proceedings?"

"Uh...yes, I think so."

"What!?" Interjected Erin. "You mean you want to watch Uncle Rollin punish me?"

"Why of course child, you don't think I'd just leave it up to the two of you. You'd twist him around your little finger and have him thinking he was killing you. Oh, no, I'm going to be right there and make sure the job is done properly."

"Now wait a minute, Linnea..." I was indignant. How dare she impugn my resolve to do this right! I could mete out sufficiently severe and just correction to Erin, no problem... cute little Erin, my favorite niece...Ok, ok, she had a point.

"I'm sorry Rollin. I don't mean to doubt your good intentions, but we do this my way. Can we do this tonight?"

"It might be better tommorrow, Linnea. Erin might need time to think about it, and I may need to... ah...get some things." I was thinking about a suitable punishment implement. I didn't have a collection of paddles just lying around.

"I agree. She should have some time to reflect upon her upcoming chastisement. I know it really put me in the right frame of mind to receive a correction when I knew it was coming and I had time to think about it. So ok, 8pm tommorrow night?"

"Yes, we'll call you when we are set up and ready."

"Oh and Rollin. I think this girl should get a sound paddling so I want you to make sure you have a real punishment paddle, not some toy, understand?"

"Ive seen what they do at the correctional center Linnea. I'll get the, implement."

Linnea hung up and the screen went blank. There was a nervous silence. Erin's face was crestfallen. She probably couldn't believe this was happening.

"Whew, Erin you really did it, kid."

"Oh, Uncle Rollin, I just feel so bad...mainly for Susan. After know paddle me or whatever, promise you'll help."

"I'll do what I can. I have a friend down there. I'll call him. Meanwhile here's cab fare. Go to my house and cool it for awhile. I'll be home soon and we'll see about going out. Even the condemnned gets a last meal, right?" I tried to say this with a smile.

Erin nodded glumly, then brightened up. "Thanks, Uncle Rollin, you're the best. Really."

"I hope you can say that by 8:30 tommorrow night, sweetheart."

Erin gave a little wince at this last remark and put her hands on her hind end protectively as if in anticipation of the next night's activities. And I couldn't help but notice the way her cute butt wiggled in those tight slacks as she walked out. I also noticed that Allison had seemed excited, hanging on every word of the exchange between me and Linnea. And last but not least was the rear view of Allison's sumptuous ass filling out and swelling the back of the short dress she was wearing. Now there's a behind made for spanking, I thought.

When the girls left, Jane came in. "Wow, boss, are you really going to give that cute little thing a spanking?"

"What, you were listening in? Maybe you deserve what she's going to get."
OOps. I was joking but I knew I shouldn't have said that. But Jane surprised me by saying with a laugh, "I probably do, but go easy on me willya?" Then she gave me another start when she peered over her shoulder and patted her butt and said, "On the other hand with all I've got back here, maybe you should just plop me over your knees and whale away. It'll make me be a good girl. I promise." She said this with a mischievous gleam in her eye. She was slim but the cheeks of her behind swelled the tight confines of her skirt.

I could play along too. "Later, I'm too tired now."

"Pooh! That's what they all say," said Jane with a pout.

"Seriously, though, I'm going to have to paddle this kid's caboose tommorrow night. Karen's out of town and we've sort been on the outs lately anyway so... how should I proceed?"

"You don't know how to give a girl a spanking? You just flip her over your knee, pull her pants down and smack her fanny til she's sorry and blubbering and her mascara's a mess."

"Hmmm...I'm afraid it has to be a bit more formal than that. Aunt Linnea wants me to duplicate a "Certificate" punishment...with a paddle."

"So what's the problem?"

"Two things. One I don't have a Juvenile Correction paddle and Two, I may need to set up a portable minicam link to the phone and someone may have to hold it."

Jane put her finger to her mouth reflectively, sort of cocking her head, thinking.
"I volunteer, boss. I've got an old sorority paddle, and I'll be glad to come over and hold the camera."

The thought of Jane on the other end of that sorority paddle was intriguing. And I could use some help if not the moral support of another adult.

"How big is the sorority paddle? I mean I've seen some that look like a 2 by 4. In the correction center they use a synthetic that's kind of thin and has holes in it."

"You're thinking of the ceremonial paddles with all the insignia that people hang on their walls. Those things are 2 feet long and 3/4" thick. No, mine is most definitely a "working" paddle. It's 18" long, counting a 6" grip, it's maple or something, and it's about, oh, 3/8" thick and 4" wide. It looks sort of small but it packs quite a wallop. Stings first--then burns like fire, I can tell you. Mine is "signed" by all my sorority sisters, and for every signature I got at least one lick---wearing nothing but panties at the time. Let me tell you--15 firm swats with this and your niece will never miss school again."

This sounded about right. I didn't want something that would bruise or be so heavy as to be unwieldy. And it needed to be a real punishment that would satisfy Linnea. And last but not least, I was kind of ticked at Erin for being so flighty and irresponsible. In truth she deserved a "good country lickin'" as Linnea would say. It would get the message across without killing her. For her it would be a memorable experience.

"Ok, I'd appreciate some help. Why don't you just come over at about 7:30 to my place and we'll get things set up?"

"You got it boss, anything else?"

"Yeah come to think of it---I'm thinking out loud-- but the spanking part of a Center punishment is done with a kind of leather smacker--it's about 100 smacks with that prior to the formal paddling. I don't have anything like that. Karen has one, though. But it's probably at her office, although I think at one time it was at my place..."

Jane jumped right in on that one. "Oh, it was, was it? And pray tell what was Karen's smacker doing at your place?"

My blush gave me away. All I got was a smirk and raised eyebrows when I said she had brought it just to show it to me.

"What else did she show you?" Jane said impudently, then she blushed. "Sorry boss, sometimes I just get carried away. But anyway what is this thing like?"

"It's sort of like a leather sole with a rubber facing. They call it a 'sandal'."

"Oh I don't know," said Jane, "if you have to give her a spanking too, why not just use your hand? It'll sting just as much and you won't overdo it. I know from experience that a sturdy male palm connecting with a female fanny can generate plenty of heat for the seat. The main thing is to make it a humbling experience. No girl can feel very adult when she's face down bottoms up over a man's lap. She acted childishly should be punished accordingly."

"From experience, eh? You know this?"

"And I'm not telling....well not now, anyway, but trust me, 100 smacks from the palm of your hand and her little hiney will be dancing. And she'll really feel the paddle then."

I said ok to this thinking that punishing Erin with just my hand would be severe enough. That and the paddle swats should mollify Linnea.

                       Chapter 2

I came home later and decided to take the girls out. They were kind of subdued. I tried to be cheerful but I understood Erin's mood. It would be a painful and humiliating experience for her tommorrow night. Halfway through dinner she spoke up.

"Are you going to spank me very hard, Uncle Rollin?"

"You know if I don't Linnea won't be satisfied. Sorry kiddo, I've got to make it real---for your sake. You do want to go back to school, right?"

"Yes, I do." And she nodded at Allison, who took a deep breath and spoke.

"I'm glad you said that Mr Hand--I mean that you were going to make this a real punishment."

"You do? You want to see Erin get punished?"

"No, sir. I want you to punish me too. Just like Erin. Whatever she gets."

I almost dropped my fork. There was dead silence for a moment. I leaned forward. "Allison, do you know what you are saying? I am going to have to give Erin an old fashioned bare butt spanking, followed by swats with a wooden paddle. It will hurt. Spankings hurt and they are very undignified."

"What!?" Exclaimed Erin. "Bare butt??  Ohh...No. I'll die from embarassment. Please let us keep something on. I know! we'll wear our bikinis. You can spank us in those, please?"

I turned to Erin. "Sorry Erin, but the procedure calls for bare bottom. Linnea knows that by now and if she doesn't she will insist on it anyway. When you got it with the strap in the barn did she let you keep your panties on?"

Erin's blush told me the answer.

I turned back to Allison.

"This is a very unusual request, Allison. You are asking me to turn you across my knee like a 12-year old, take your pants down and spank you hard, right on the bare fanny. After that you'll get licks with a wooden paddle and they won't be light taps."

Allison's face flushed and she said haltingly,

"I know, Mr Hand, and I've talked to Erin about it. But I am prepared to endure it. We are in this together. Maybe if someone had taken the trouble to discipline me, I wouldn't have done this, but I did and I feel guilty about it. Only with me, nobody will care. I don't have anybody like you or Aunt Linnea. So I'm prepared to take my licks, sir, along with Erin."
A regular Joan of Arc, I thought.
"Well, I admire your courage, Allison. Erin are you OK with this?"

"We talked about it, Uncle Rollin. It's OK. But are you going to... do it?"

"Well, Erin, Linnea wants it to be like a correctional center punishment. On the day for punishment, the kids have to report to the center and they are taken to a room where they have to strip down to their underwear. Then they are escorted into the punishment chamber and sit in chairs facing a stage. Then in pairs their names are called and each pair is put over the lap of a wardess on a special bench. The wardesses pull their pants down and gives them a good hard spanking for 2 or 3 minutes--4 if they have done something really serious. After that they each come up one at a time and get a whipping with a flexible rod or licks with a paddle--depends on the crime."

Erin and Allison grimaced and looked at each other. Then Allison said, "Whew! that sounds severe." She licked her lips. I could swear that there was excitement in her voice. "Is it boys and girls getting it together? And they are bare--their bottoms I mean--really bare?"

"Yes. Nobody's modesty is preserved. The theory is that it reduces all that criminal bravado. No kid can feel like an adult getting his or her bottom smacked like a child. The shame more than anything else makes them wish to avoid the experience."

Then Allison pulled back and said with calm resolve, "I guess then we'll just have to grin and bear it."  Erin snickered. "Don't you mean 'bare' it?
Uncle Rollin's going to see everything we've got."

"Ok, girls that's enough. Let's talk about something more pleasant. Tell me about the islands...."

I left the girls alone the following day while I ran some errands. All day I kept thinking about the evening. I had never given Karen a purely disciplinary punishment. Underlying our games had been a core eroticism. We knew that the play spankings were not to be real punishments and that they would lead invariably to the bedroom. Tonight was going to be different. I was going to have to spank Erin for real to satisfy Linnea--no play paddywhacking there--and to be fair I was going to have to give Allison the same. I had to admit,though, I felt a stirring in my groin at the prospect. Allison was a dish.

I couldn't read Allison--she seemed excited and fearful at the same time. My guess is that she sensed that something had been missing in her life and that she was determined to get it. But was there something sexual going on too? That wouldn't surprise me.

I came home and the girls were in the kitchen sitting at the table having coffee. I said hi and looked at the clock. It was 7:00 pm. I knew I had better set up. The phone with its attached camera and vid screen was in the den, so I took a sturdy armless chair from the dining room into the den where I placed it in the middle of the room and turned the phone around so that the chair was straight on in the field of view. I figured I'd better dig out the portable minicam attachment as well since there was no telling what angle Linnea might want.

At 7:30 Jane showed up. The girls said sheepish hello (I had told them she was coming and why). Jane tried to be cheerful about it ("Hey, nobody ever died from a spanking" and "I used to get it all the time" or "You should have been in my sorority") but Erin and Allison just grimaced nervously as she chattered. Then their eyes got big as Jane pulled her sorority paddle out of a bag.

"Is this what you have to spank us with Uncle Rollin?" said a wild-eyed Erin.

"Let me see that, please?" Said Allison and she took it and smacked it against her palm. "Ouch! Ooh, that really stings. Our bottoms are going to feel that for sure, Erin." She almost seemed excited at the prospect.

Erin just eyed the paddle with a look of dread. " many do you have to give us Uncle Rollin?"

"I think its got to be 10, girls, that is the penalty for chronic truancy and that's what Linnea wants."

The girls looked at each other. Their expressions said Uh-oh as each handled the paddle. "Each name signed on that paddle was paid for with at least one swat to my panty-covered rear," chimed in Jane, "and there are 26 names there."
"Wow..." said both girls, almost in unison. I cleared my throat to get their attention.

"Look, girls, I think you had better change. I want to be ready when Linnea calls. Go upstairs and take off everything but your underwear. If you have beach robes you can wear them until it's time...."

The girls shuffled out. I offered Jane a drink, and made one for me. A double.

"Dutch courage, boss?"

"I may need some."

"There's going to be a lot of squealing and crying here in a few minutes. They will plead and beg....anything to get you to stop...I know."

"I know too. I've seen this you know." Jane just gave me a cool appraising glance with a hint of a smile.

The creaking of the stairs signalled the girls' return. Both wore short beach robes revealing nicely formed legs. I presumed that under the beach robes was bra and panties. We waited, looking at the clock. At 8:00 I dialed up Linnea. I switched on the vidphone monitor and Linnea's image appeared. Her voice crackled from the receiver.

"Hello Rollin, Erin. I see you appear to be ready. You are ready to proceed with Erin's correction, right Rollin?"

"Ah yes Linnea. My secretary Miss Jane Hynde is here to assist me and act as a witness. Also, this may seem a little unusual, but Erin's friend Allison Has requested that she be included in these...ah...proceedings. She wishes to be given the same punishment as Erin. We would appreciate your witnessing her chastisement as well."

Linnea blinked, her mouth open. "I must say that is unusual, but if that is what she wants, I'll witness it--and may I say, honey, that is courageous, but you probably know you do deserve a good hiding just like Erin is going to get."

"Yes, ma'am. I know I do. Erin can't take all the blame. We both agreed to go. We encouraged each other."

"Very well. Rollin tell me what you are going to do."

"Linnea, you asked what a truant would get here. The penalty under the Certificate of Correction option is a good spanking of 2-3 minutes duration followed by 10 licks with a disciplinary paddle. Jane has brought along her old sorority paddle which she assures me is a solid disciplinary implement. The spankings are usually given by a matron with a rubber coated leather sole. I don't have one so I'll just use my hand. I propose to give each of them 100 spanks in lieu of a timed spanking, but that's about what it works out to anyway. Ok so far?"

Linnea nodded.

"Underneath those robes the girls have only underwear. Correctional Center punishments are given on the bare buttocks so the panties will come down."

"This is acceptable Rollin." Looking at Erin she said, "Erin I hate to have to order this punishment for you, but this was a childish act. I thought you had a better head on your shoulders. Never pull a stunt like this again, understand?"

Erin nodded miserably. Now that the time had come, she looked frightened and about to cry. Allison held her head up, seemingly determined to accept her licking with some sense of dignity and grace.

As I sat down in the chair facing the screen, I said, "can you see, Linnea?"

"I can see fine. Proceed."

"Erin, remove your robe and come here." Erin shucked her robe revealing her tight little figure clad now only in silky lavender bra and panties. She moved to face me. I put my hands on her hips and guided her to my right side.
"Place yourself over my knees." She put her hands on my thighs and eased herself face down on my lap. I pulled her forward a little bit so that her pelvis rested right on top of my right leg which positioned her ass nicely. I placed my hand in the elastic of her panties and told her to lift up a little. As she did I slid the panties down to her knees revealing her cutely rounded bare bottom. Her legs were tanned but her buns were still white.

"Here we go Erin. 100 spanks with my hand. Keep your hands on the floor. Do not reach back." I heard a soft, "Yes, Uncle Rollin."

Smack! I spanked her left cheek.
Smack! Right cheek. Two red handprints appeared.
Smack! Smack! Whap! Smack! Crack! Smack! She gasped as solid smacks rang out. Her body gave a little jerk with each one. I hit her hard enough to make each cheek flatten out momentarily, then spring back into shape.

"Jane, keep count. That's 8."
"Right, boss."

Then I started to spank in earnest. I settled into a steady rhythm where I delivered about a spank every two seconds. I covered her little bottom, alternating sides and spreading the smacks around. She tried to be still but started to wriggle after 20. At 40 she started yelping--little "ouches" and hissing intakes of breath. I couldn't let up, so if anything started putting a little more force behind each loud smack. This prompted her to wiggle and writhe across my lap, and she got more vocal as well. Her legs started to scissor up and down. Smack! "Ouch...Uncle Rollin, please!" Smack! "I'll never do it again!" Smack! "Ow! I'm sorrryyy!" Smack! Whap! Smack! She hammered her fists against the floor. She kicked and squealed shamelessly. I kept right on spanking her with hard deliberate smacks. The white cottontail fanny turned a bright red under the onslaught. I heard Jane say, "Thats 90, boss." Ok, so 10 more. I paused and gave her the last 10 slower and a shade harder than the rest. I wanted to make each one count. Judging by her cries and frantic wriggles, they did. Smack! 99. Smack! 100. I stopped and rested my palm on her butt. It was hot. So was my hand. Erin was sobbing.

I let her up. She rose slowly and her hands went to massage her burning fanny cheeks. Tears streamed down her face. Well, I had to make it hurt, otherwise there was no point and Linnea would want me to do it over.

"Ok, Erin pull your pants up and stand over there."

"Wait," said Linnea. "Erin, stop, turn around. Take your pants down so I can see." Sniffling, Erin complied, displaying her red sit spot for the camera. "Ok," said Linnea, apparantly satisfied, "Go do what your uncle told you."

As Erin tugged her panties back up I turned to Allison and said: " Allison, it's your turn now. Come here." Allison meekly said "Yes, sir" and stood to my right. Without being told she hooked her thumbs in the elastic of her panties and pulled them down. Then she laid herself across my lap. Her bottom was larger and proportionately fuller than Erin's. The jouncy cheeks swelled as she positioned herself over my knee. As I patted her creamy mounds I noted that they also seemed softer, more resilient as well. She hadn't tanned as much as Erin so she was mostly white. "Are you ready, Allison, and are you sure you want this?"

"Yes, sir, please go ahead, spank me hard, just like Erin," she whispered, almost breathlessly. So I did. My palm went Splat! Splat! Whap! Smack! I alternated cheeks. I swatted her across the deep crevice of her ass right in the center. I spanked in flurries and I spanked with deliberate spaced apart smacks. In short, I gave her what was probably the tanning of her life-- the tanning she had obviously missed all of years growing up. She wriggled and gasped and the quivering mounds of luscious bottom bounded under my smacking palm. I had more flesh to spank and did my best to spread the smacks around. Her ass wobbled, a fleshy shock wave generated each time my palm struck. But each time the fatty rounds sprang back into shape to await the next spank. She tried to hold it in and not cry out, but under the relentless barrage of smacks she fluttered her legs as best she could, and finally broke down with a long drawn out "wwwwaaaahhhhh!" in response to my smacking hand. Nevertheless, I could not help but notice the glistening dew that formed on the lips of her vulva and in her thrashing and writhing it almost seemed as if she were timing the bucking of her hips to meet the spanks. By the time I had administered her 100 spanks she had surrendered, moaning, her body limp, sprawled across my thighs. I helped her up. She stood, her face a mask of suffering, but she stammered out a "thank you" even as she tried to rub the sting out of her inflamed cheeks.

I stood and moved the chair out of the way. "Sorry girls," I said, "we're not done yet."

Erin pleaded. "Please can we wait just a minute?" she tearfully entreated.

"I'll give you about a minute, Erin. But we need to finish this now. You and Allison stand here where the chair was. Put enough space between yourselves so that I can get to your side. That's right, Allison," I said as she moved to the side. Both girls were stepping from foot to foot, trying to rub the sting away. "Now turn around so that your rear is toward the monitor." Turning to address Linnea I said, "Is this the angle you want?"

"Put them angled more to the side, I think," said Linnea. We fussed with positioning for a few moments until Linnea was apparantly satisfied. Then she spoke. "Rollin, go ahead. Girls those seats of yours have been well warmed up but this is the real thing. Erin, you will stand still and take this paddling, understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Linnea," said a tearful and contrite Erin.

"Ok girls, pants down again--hands on your knees--hollow your backs, that's right stick your fannies out. This is just the way I had to assume the position when I got it as a young girl. And don't get up. Rollin, if they move out of position, that one doesn't count."

I nodded and picked up the paddle. "Ok, girls, 10 swats each. I'll alternate between the two of you."

I moved to Erin's right side and lined the paddle up. I pressed the wood against her cheeks, drew back and brought my arm around with a deft flick of my wrist. SMACK! Right across the crowns of her bottomcheeks. "Yeowwww!" screeched Erin. Her feet danced up and down. "Ah...ah...yah..." she sputtered.
I moved past her to Allison's right side, took my stance and...SMACK! The gorgeous fanny wobbled with the searing impact of the paddle and Allison yelped. Back to Erin. She was trembling. SMACK! Another hard lick to her flaming fanny. "Owww! Owww! please not so hard!" she blubbed. I walked over to Allison. SMACK! "Yeouch...oh...oh...ow...that stings!" Two down for each. Eight to go. SMACK! "owwww!" 3 for Erin. SWAT! "Ouch...oohh." Allison's third. Both bottoms sported dark red bands now from imprints of the paddle. Back to Erin. "Please Uncle Rollin, not so SMACK! hard ow..ow..ow" She was frantically trying to stay down. SMACK! "Ouch..oh...that stings! whew!" She wriggled her fanny in a rotating motion. It probably didn't help. CRACK! One more for Erin. SMACK! Another lick to Allison's jiggling seat. As the paddle smacks continued so did the abject wailing of the two delinquents. I was delivering the swats firmly, not brutally. Each smack was given flat across both rear cheeks with more wrist than arm. Still I could tell that the level of distress was rising almost exponentially with each solid whap of the paddle. SMACK! "yeowww...oh ..oh" wailed Erin at number 8. WHAP! "Ah....please...not so hard..I...can't.." entreated Allison tearfully. Feet stamped on the floor and they involuntarily wiggled their butts in a fiery dance of pain.

"Two more girls. Be brave." SMACK! I smacked Erin's butt hard, down low. "owwww!" SMACK! Another blistering crack to Allison's wobbling fanny. She struggled to stay bent over. "Aiii...Owwww!"
"That's 9. Now last one." SMACK! "eouchhh...I won't do it again!" CRACK! "Owwwww....I'm sorrrryyyy!"

"That's it girls. You can stand up now."

Both girls stood, rubbing their well-reddenned posteriors. Tears were flowing freely. It had been a sound punishment. Sitting would be uncomfortable for awhile.

Linnea addressed the girls. " I hope you both have learned a lesson now. By the way, Rollin, thank you for handling this. You've done your duty. Erin, I want you to thank Rollin for chastising you. Thanks to him you won't have to come home now and we won't have to take that walk out to the barn. You are forgiven for this little escapade, but I think you know what will happen if you ever pull something like this again."

"Yes Aunt Linnea." Turning to me she said, "Thank you correcting me Uncle Rollin."

"It's Ok, sweetheart. No hard feelings?"

"No hard feelings, Uncle Rollin." Then she added with a wry grin, "just a very hot bottom." Allison nodded vigorously.

"Well that's it then. Erin, you get yourself back to school pronto. Rollin, call me on Monday."

"Yes Aunt Linnea," we all chimed. The screen went blank.

"Ok, girls go get dressed." As I said that Allison put her arms around me and gave me a hug. "Thank you for punishing me as I deserved." Then she kissed me full on the mouth and I could swear she ground her pelvic mound against me as she did so, but because of the angle I don't think Erin or Jane saw it. Jane offered to take the girls upstairs and put some cold cream on their flaming nates. Later we ordered delivery pizza. We all ate standing up. Later, Erin reminded me that I had promised to help Susan.

                Chapter 3
On Monday I didn't waste any time. I contacted Harriet Reeves, a law school classmate of mine. And a friend. I had heard from someone that she had actually moved to St John's and set up a practice there. We had almost had a thing going once, but I was young and carefree and I guess I wasn't ready for the type of commitment she wanted. Chalk it up to bad timing. So she had become engaged to Frank, another law student. I hadn't seen or spoken to her in years, but she was glad to hear from me.

"Rollin, wow, what brings you to these parts? Getting tired of all that Ohio Valley winter weather? Come on down!" Hearing Harriet's voice brought back sweet memories and made me wonder what the hell I had been thinking to let her get away? A real sweetheart. Too bad she had to go and marry Frank.

"God, Harriet, you sound great. Island life must be treating you well."

We caught up with each other for awhile. I was surprised to hear that Frank was out of the picture. "Frank was never here. I came down here after the divorce. This place isn't cosmopolitan enough for Frank." We caught up some more before I got around to telling him what the problem was.

"Whew! That's not a good situation. I'll see what your niece's friend was charged with exactly, but I must tell you that they come down on drug use very hard here. Stuff that would get you a slap on the wrist in the states will get you some serious time here. I'll call you back."

Well I didn't know if drugs would get you just a slap on the wrist around here--it might get you lots of slaps somewhere else, though. I dug into office work as I waited for Harry to call back. Jane was her usual chipper self this morning, but I began to notice, as my drafts came back, a lot of errors. I began to get annoyed. Then she switched letters, putting one to the client in the envelope addressed to my opposing counsel and vice versa. What the hell....?

"Jane, can you come in here?"

"Right away boss." Jane strolled in notebook in hand. I noted the sexy librarian look--hair in a bun, white blouse, dark tight, and very short, skirt. She looked flustered.

"Jane what is this? Your work today has been sloppy as hell and we almost had a disaster with this switched letter." Jane stood there twisting her hands like a schoolgirl in the principal's office.
"I'm sorry boss, I just can't concentrate today."

"Well, you'd better start," I sad gruffly. "We can't have a screwup like you almost made. I could be sued for malpractice! Pay attention to what you're doing." I was sorry to have to bark at her like that, but I was peeved. She hastily retreated and I noted the sexy wiggle of her rear--set into motion by those 3" heels no doubt.

Then Harriet called back. "It's not good," she reported. "Your niece's friend, one Susan Pemberton was arrested for possession with intent to distribute. The penalty can be up to 3 years in jail."

"How can this be? Erin told me they only had an ounce of pot each."

"Yeah, well, that's the rub. When your niece and her friend left, they left their stuff with Susan, so when she was nabbed the total stash was presumed to be hers. Anything over one ounce, they presume you're going to sell some, so they charged her with a distribution rap."

"You mean to tell me that if all three of these girls had been caught at the same time that the charge would be possession only?"

"Yep. And the sentence doesn't involve jail time---although it's not very pleasant. See, St John's has a CP law like a few of the states. For some minor crimes the penalty is a flogging, then release."

"A flogging? How do they do it?"

"When St Johns put this law in place they decided to make the whipping an old world punishment. So they went back to the English tradition. Men get what is called "upper discipline" which is a lashing at a whipping post with a cat-o-nine-tails delivered on the back. Women get "lower discipline" which is a birching like the kind used oh--I don't know, way back when--in the days of Moll Flanders or something. I know they had something like this on some British isles until the 50's. They use a bunch of switches bound together and the strokes are applied to the is quite bare at the time."

Yeouch! A bundle of switches. "How many do they get? Strokes I mean."

"For drug possession like this, 2 or 3 dozen. There is some discretion on the part of the court. I've been told it is very painful and the weals take time to heal. But they did make one change. The implements that are used are lighter by design so that there is less trauma to the skin. You may have heard that the old Isle Of Man birch was a pretty fearsome scourge, and I've heard it was. So they rejected that and opted for a lighter thinner birch, but proportionately increased the number of strokes so that the pain of the punishment was pretty intense. And it lasts longer. I've one client who was birched. She said that the sting was really intense, burning. But she was ok afterwards. This woman Susan, how old is she?"

I told Harriet she was 21. That was why the girls had gone with her. It was her boyfriend who had the place down there--or his family did.  He told me that made her an adult. The penalty was 3 years in jail.
Also, I thought about this. If the three of them had been equally responsible they would have been charged with simple possession. They would have been flogged, but they could have walked, with no jail time. For a young woman in her last year of college, the thought of spending three years in jail must be pretty devastating. I suddenly had an idea that came from some old movie I'd seen on cable.

"Harriet, has Susan gone to trial yet?"

"Er, no, it comes up soon though."

"What if Susan's two friends, Erin and Allison were to come back to St Johns, admit responsibility, and testify that 2/3 of the pot was theirs?"

Harriet thought a minute. "They'd all be guilty of possession of less than an ounce....I see where you are going, it might work. If that's the case they could plead out. But do they know what they are getting into? If the prosecutor accepts the plea, he will no doubt invoke the CP law. They would all have to take floggings for the possession charges. Will they do that for their friend?"

"They might, but would they be subject to punishment as adults? These girls are 18."

"That puts them in a different category. Juveniles are treated more leniently."

That sounded better. "Like how much more leiniently?"

"Under 21, the strokes are given with the correctional strap and it's privately done in a special room at the prison. Only the wardess actually giving the strapping, the warden, the prisoner's attorney and a medical officer and guards are allowed to be present. I had a couple of juvenile clients who got it, so I know. I had to learn the procedure."

"What? Well what happens to adults?"

"Oh. That's outside in the prison courtyard. Every con with a window gets to see it. As do all the prison personnel and any dignitary who cares to show up. There is a scaffold with a whipping post in the middle of the yard. It's like Tyburn, Lord Jeffries, the bloody assizes.... only without the gallows."

"Sounds intimidating."

"Yes, let me tell you," Harriet replied, "we've got some real law and order types that really believe in this corporal punishment treatment. They justify it by pointing to the fact that there is no permanent damage, the criminal gets punished and they don't have to keep building jails."

So Susan would get birched in the yard and the two girls would receive the strap. Erin wanted to help Susan. I wondered though in light of their experience the past weekend, if friendship went that far. In a figurative sense, Erin might have to take that walk out to the barn for a date with the harness strap after all. I asked Harriet to talk to Susan in jail. She had no representation. Harriet could also sound out the prosecutor about a possible deal. I would talk to the girls who were due to go back to UVA tommorrow.

Then it was back to work. The next glitch that day was a motion I had to file. Jane put the wrong court in the caption. Luckily I caught it, and told her pointedly to fix it. I felt bad about growling at her, but the sloppiness was driving me nuts. I was surprised when at the end of the day Jane knocked on my door.

"Can I talk to you boss?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah come in. I won't bite your head off."

"I don't know what's wrong with me today," she started, " I can't seem to concentrate. I'm really sorry."

"It's ok," I said, "everybody has days. You're forgiven. But just be more on the ball, ok? Stuff like you did today can be embarassing at best and disasterous at worst."

She drew herself up and took a deep breath. "Then I think you need to give me something to help me remember to stay focused."

"I don't have any magic pills, Jane."

"I know, but there is something you need to do," she said mysteriously, and, seeming to have made up her mind about something, walked resolutely out. I heard her lock the outer door. Then I heard some clattering as Jane fumbled for something in her desk drawer. When she returned she was holding an 18" ruler.

Holding out the ruler she took a deep breath. "If you want your secretary to stop making stupid errors, you're going to have to correct her bad habits. I suggest you use this." He took the ruler from her hand and she turned and bent over, hands on knees, thrusting out a delectable bottom that strained against the confines of the tight skirt.

I looked at the cute posterior and smacked the ruler in my hand while I asked, "This is going to help you focus on the job?"

"Yes, Boss. I promise. This lady needs a good spanking to make her mind and pay attention."

"Well, I do want to keep you...and I don't want a repeat of I guess I'll have to give you what you need."

"Oh, yes, boss--please...and don't hold back."

"Ok, Jane, but remember you asked for this," I said as I got up and walked around the desk, hefting the ruler. It was really too light to be a serious punishment tool. She wasn't going to feel this much--especially over the skirt, thin as it was. But then, it was what she wanted. A little drama. The little minx had engineered this. I should have seen it coming. The way she flirted with me after overhearing the call to Linnea, her "volunteering" to witness the punishment of the girls--and showing up with that paddle, the way she had watched the girls getting it...oh yeah..I had noticed the hard nipples straining the front of her blouse, and finally the repeated "mistakes" she had made today, they all convinced me that this was a setup. There was this need deep inside. And once she had seen me deal with the girls, she must have decided to pick me as her designated disciplinarian. Not that I minded, but I was a bit ticked about the way she gone about it. So I was going to give her her money's worth.

I got to her side and with my left arm encircled her waist. She gave what I would describe as a delicious shudder as I tapped the ruler against the drum taut posterior straining against her skirt.
Then, Smack! Smack! Crack! I started whipping the ruler down on the crowns of the proffered buttocks with firm steady strokes.
"OOh...ohh...ahhh..." Jane squeaked as the ruler splatted against her hiney.
The way Jane wiggled I knew the ruler stung through the thin skirt, which was rayon or something. I could see the panty line of French cut panties in her tight, bent over position. After about 20 cracks of the ruler I decided to switch gears and get serious. Jane rose thinking we were done.

"Yeow, boss. That really stung!" she said rubbing her rear cheeks through the thin material.

"Oh, really? Well march yourself over to that corner and face it while I go get something." I commanded.

Jane's jaw dropped in reaction to the order. "Boss? What..?"

"Just get your little nose right in that corner!"

Jane gulped, flustered, but she moved. I went into the outer office and retrieved her chair. It swivelled and had no arms. Dragging it into my office, I spun it around in the center of the room and sat down. Miss Jane was about to find out what a hot stinging spanking was all about.

"Jane, get over here." Jane reluctantly approached, hands on her hiney, still rubbing.

I guided her around to my right side and rolled up my sleeves. Her eyes got big as she watched. Then I looked up. "Jane, you wanted a spanking, now you're gonna get one. The thing is, spankings are 99% more effective when given on the bare bottom as you observed Saturday night. Now lift up your skirt."

"But boss, I..."

"Lift your skirt now or my belt is coming off!"

Jane gulped and tugged the tight skirt up. She had to shimmy a bit to get it up over her hips. When she did, I was presented with a very nice view of a black garter belt holding up her stockings along with French cut black silk panties. She had obviously dressed for the occasion. I guided her over my lap until she was jacknifed over my right knee, bottom pointed at the ceiling, hands on the floor to my left, legs straight out to my right. Her lovely pert posterior was a classic teardrop shape, swelling globes that spilled out of the edges of the skimpy panties. Bands of pink caused by the ruler laddered the exposed flesh.

Jane gave a little wriggle as I rested my hand on her left cheek cupping it.
"Ok, Jane, lift up a bit." She groaned with embarassment but lifted her hips. I tugged down the little panties until they fluttered at her ankles. Clamping my arm over her back and pulling her closer I said, "Jane, I am now going to give you something that will help your concentration immensely. Remember this when you are sitting at your desk tommorrow."
Jane managed to choke a quavering, "yes, boss."

Then I started to spank. The smacks were deliberate and firm. I alternated sides. Smack! left cheek. Smack! right cheek. The bottomcheeks giggled. Jane made little yipping noises as the spanks rained down. I stepped up the pace a bit, peppering her nude fanny with smacks that echoed off the walls. She wriggled. She drummed her feet on the floor. "Ow, boss... Smack!...yeow...Smack!...ooh that one hurt...Smack! crack!...please, it stings...really! Smack! Spank! Whap! I gave her a long rapid-fire barrage of crisp hard spanks that bounced off her well reddened buns. "Owwwweeeee!" She yelled arching her back and lifting her feet off the floor. Then I slowed down. Smack! "Do you think this will help Jane?" Smack! "Will you really try to avoid thoughtless mistakes?" Smack!
"Ow...ow...ow! Yes boss. Please stop now?"

"Ten more good hard ones Jane to really drive the point home," I said rubbing the beet-red globes. Smack! Smack! Smack! Just as I raised my hand again, I heard a key in the lock and the door was pushed open. There stood a middle-aged Hispanic lady in a bluish smock with a large wastebasket on a trolley. The cleaning lady! Shit!

Jane, however, maintained her composure. She lifted her head, and said very straightforwardly, "We are having a private conference, now. Could you please come back later?"
The cleaning lady, her eyes bulging out of their sockets, nodded dumbly, crossed herself and backed out of the room, closing the door. We heard the clattering of her cart as it receded down the hall.

"Where were we?" I said. Unbelieveable.
"That was three," said Jane. She was looking back at me tearfully. "You were going to give me ten."
"I think under the circumstances, we are finished, Jane."
There was silence for a moment, then Jane said in a small voice, "I think you should finish boss...finish what you said."
Better give the lady what she needs, I thought, and I laid on 7 more hard stingers that had Jane gasping and writhing over my lap.

Jane moaned softly as I rubbed her flaming hiney. I could see glistening in the furry patch between her legs. She responded to my caress by humping her hips up and down. My fingers found her warm wetness and she moaned louder, "Oh, yes, bossss....please."
I slipped one finger in---then two. With my encircling arm I reached around and found her clit. Massaging her clitty with one hand and finger-fucking her with the other, it wasn't long before she shuddered in a violent wracking orgasm.

I let her slip to the floor on her knees. She moaned softly massaging her inflamed rear and rested her head in my lap. Then she brought her hands up, lifted her head and deftly reached for my zipper. She pulled my zipper down and reached in to grasp my penis which by this time was as hard as a rock and threatening to burst from the confines of my pants. She pulled it, and it popped out, pointing straight up. Jane regarded it for a moment. Then she raised her head and looked wistfully into my eyes. "Shall I go ahead boss? I think you need this after giving me such a throrough spanking---and what you you did after." I nodded and she lowered her head to the turgid shaft. A shock wave of pure pleasure passed through me as I felt her lips engage the head. Then it slipped between those lips and slid into her warm wet mouth. She sucked in long slow pulls at first, dragging her lips the length of my shaft before letting it nearly pop out of her sweet mouth before doing it again. Then she sort of bobbed up and down and swirled her tongue around. She sucked harder after awhile and the bobbing motion became faster. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over me as my accomplished fellatrix worked her lips and tongue on my cock. I gripped her shoulders as I started to cum. I thought I would rise up out of the chair, I came so hard. Jane kept her head down and gulped the gism that filled her mouth.

When it was over I slumped back in the chair. Jane rocked back on her heels for a moment, then in a very businesslike way, rose, adjusted her clothing, and stood before me. "Boss, I..." she started, but I interrupted her. "It's ok, Jane---look neither one of us knew..."

"But Boss, I did. I knew from Saturday night. I wanted you to treat me like your niece and her friend--I was so turned on by you spanking them...I wanted to see for myself," she said haltingly, eyes downcast. The admission shamed her.

"It's ok Jane," I reassured her but at the same time I thought, what does this mean now? "Jane, I have to ask you--do you still want to work for me?"

"Oh, yes! I do. And I'll really do my best, not like today. But boss?" she said questioningly. "Yes?" I lifted my eyebrows. "If I really do screw can...what I mean is...I want you to punish me. Will you?"
"After tonight, I don't see any other way, " I smiled. "And Jane,..."

"Yes, Boss?"

"Bring that paddle of yours to work with you tommorrow, ok?"
                  Chapter 4

We were a nervous trio, Erin, Allison and I, who sat lost in our own
thoughts as we saw the lights of St Johns through the window of the Air
Carribean prop jet as it approached the island. Erin and Allison had
decided to come back to try and help their friend Susan avoid a three
year jail term for  selling drugs. She hadn't really sold any drugs, it
was just presumed that with a little under 3 oz. in her possession, that
it was for the purpose of sale. However, with Erin and Allison willing
to testify that one third of the stash had been theirs, and abandonned,
the charge would be at most, simple possession.

Possession did not warrant a jail term in St Johns, but it did warrant
punishment, and that was the cause of the butterflies in the girls'
stomachs as the plane swooped in for its landing. My friend Harry, an
attorney in St Johns, had undertaken Susan's representation at my
request. The prosecutor had seemed amenable to a reduction in charges if
the girls would return and testify as to their own guilt, however, this
would amount to a guilty plea on Erin and Allison's part, and the court
would pass sentence. What they hoped was that the court would just issue
an immediate deportation order for all three, but there was the outside
chance that all three could receive the punishment mandated by the
island's criminal code.

The punishment was flogging. For adult females, the flogging was in the
form of a birching. It was not as severe as the whipping with a cat that
men received, but it was administered as "lower discipline", across the
bared buttocks of the female prisoner in the prison courtyard. For
juveniles (under 21) the punishment was given in private with a strap,
again across the bared bottom of the offender.

Two weeks prior, both girls had been given a spanking plus 10 licks with
my secretary Jane's paddle by yours truly under the stern direction of
Erin's guardian, Aunt Linnea. So the possibility of a second punishment was
was unsettling, to say the least. Where the licking mandated by Aunt
Linnea had been a family affair, given with affection, with both tears
during the correction and hugs and forgiveness at the end, a judicially
ordered strapping would be a cold, mechanical proceeding in harsh

To give the girls credit, it hadn't taken them long to decide to face the music and help their friend. And we wanted to do it without delay. Susan continued to sit in jail.

We landed at the airport and went straight to the hotel. It had been a
long day. That night I met Harriet for dinner. She had changed but was still pretty as ever. The long hair was gone in favor of a close cropped style. I told her I thought it made her look younger. Harriet still had great legs, a long slender waist, and sparkling blue eyes. Her short skirt stretched very tightly across a trim, pouty derriere. She jumped up from the bar as I walked in and gave me a big hug. I thought maybe she pressed her body against mine a little longer than necessary.

We chatted for awhile. She had come down here after her divorce. She felt like she was just starting to live again, she said. With an interested twinkle she asked about my love life. I told her about my on again off again thing with Karen. "It seems like it's off again, now. She had to go to California for an extended period of training. And she's looking at a west coast job. We agreed that we should back off for the time being." Harriet allowed as to how that made sense. I didn't tell her about the complication brought on by my tryst with my own secretary.
I asked her why she settled here.

"I was devastated by the breakup with Frank. I came down here to regroup, get my head together. At the time the island population was growing. There was a need for basic legal services, so I looked into it and joined the bar. It wasn't that hard. Life here was kind of nice and laid back."

"Even with this English discipline stuff in the criminal code?"

"Well, yeah but you have to look at it from their point of view. A kid steals some stuff, he lives here, everybody knows him. He's probably not a bad kid but they figure he needs a good spanking. So that's what they do. Same with drunk drivers, vandals, and other petty crime. They don't want prisons--too expensive. The insular nature of the society keeps the recidivism down. When everyone knows you've been flogged, it's shaming and they watch you."

"It is lurid. Shameful." I told her about the Ohio procedure.

"Wow!" she exclaimed. "Spanked like a ten year old then paddled." Her body gave a little shiver. "I wonder what that feels like."

"I wouldn't know," I mumbled, but my face gave me away.

"Rollin, c'mon fess up--you're hiding something. I can tell," she teased.

"Maybe later. What about this birch switch they use here. It sounds seriously painful."

"I've seen it applied once....It's painful, yes, but...interesting. I've often wondered..."

We were interrupted by the waiter who took our orders. Somehow we got off into other subjects--how her marriage to Frank went s�


Harriet had talked to the prosecutor's office and explained that if the girls were ready, we could be on the docket for an arraignment and pretrial hearing the next day. This court was not that busy. Harriet then launched into an explanation of what could happen.

"I've talked it over with the prosecutor's office and they have agreed to recommend mitigation of Susan's sentence if you two plead guilty.
Susan will be in court and new sentence will be imposed. Now, girls," she said evenly, "I will do my best, and, usually immediate deportation is ordered. But I have to let you know that The court could order that you be given corporal punishment, all three of you, before they let you go."

Both Erin and Allison looked at each other. This was the moment of
truth. Up to now they could have backed out, but once they agreed to show up in court, the die was pretty much cast.

"We will, of course, ask that you be deported and barred from reentering St John's for a period of time but, even with the prosecutor in agreement the court does not have to accept the deal. I must say that usually they do, and I really think everything will be alright and you'll be on your way to the states tommorrow. Are you prepared to go ahead?"

"Wha...what could they do to us?" asked Erin nervously. I had told her
what the penalty was before. I guess she wanted to hear it from the
horse's mouth.

"They could give you the strap." said Harriet with a deep breath. "The procedure is this, "they will take you into custody
overnight. You have to be held for 24 hours in case there are numbing
drugs in your system, that sort of thing. Then close to the end of the
24 hour period, they will take you to the infirmary and give you a
medical exam to make sure that you are declared fit to receive
punishment. Your attorney, which can be me or Rollin, may be present for
the exam and may accompany you through the rest of the I have done this for two juveniles and one adult
client so I can tell you what happens. You will be given a hospital gown
to wear. Underneath you will be naked. A punishment detail of matrons
will place your hands in handcuffs and escort you to an upstairs room in
the Justice Center. You will have your gown removed and you will be
fastened face down over a sort of bench. They will read the warrant signed by the judge and then one of the matrons will then
deliver the required number of strokes to your ah...bottom with an
approved juvenile correction strap. This is a piece of leather about 20"
long, 3" wide and 1/4" thick. After the strapping you will be taken back
to the infirmary for treatment, then released."

The girls grimaced. "Does it hurt much?" asked Allison. Erin knew, she
did not have to ask.

Harriet nodded. "I'm afraid so, girls. My clients have told me that indeed it does hurt. Very much. They were both unable
to bear it without crying out. Their skin was very red and
their buttocks swollen. There were welts that did not go away completely
for weeks. However, there was no permanent damage. But
yes, they said it was very, very painful."

"What about Susan?" asked Erin, obviously concerned. "What could happen
to her?"

"Ah, yes, Susan," said Harriet with a sigh. "Look, I've talked to her and
she prefers this to three years in jail here, but she is scared and
justifiably so. An adult flogging in St John's is a serious matter. You
know, it's a good thing this isn't one of the French protectorates where
they mandate flogging. You can be sentenced to hundreds of lashes and
have to stay in jail until they can all be administered, so you get
both, jail and a whipping, several in fact.

"Anyway, Susan might be looking at 3 dozen strokes of the birch."

"What's a birch? Isn't that a type of tree?" wondered Allison. We had
been using the word, but I hadn't really explained to the girls what it
was. Harriet spoke up.

"That's almost right, Allison, but it really refers in this context to a bunch of
switches, 6 in fact, bound together. The tree they use is willow. It
doesn't grow here indigenously, but when this got started, they planted
a grove on the Justice Center grounds. The night before a birching the
matron or guard detail given the job of actually administering the whipping
goes out, along with the prisoner, to the willow and cuts a bunch of
switches that are about a metre long and taper from 5mm down to half
that. Then they strip the buds and leaves to make them smooth, bind them
in groups of 6 each and put them in water. It's kind of an event and
spectators sometimes gather on the street to watch the "condemned" help
cut and peel the very switches that she will be flogged with. It's an
extra measure of humiliation and public shaming that the government of
St John's feels is appropriate, since the punishment for women is
considered less severe than what the men get."

"Wow! She has to cut her own switches. And people watch this?" said
Erin, incredulous that this could happen.

"Yes and the jeers from the crowd are, as you might expect,
embarrassing. Prison garb is tight denim trousers that don't leave much
to the imagination, and the soon-to-be-whipped hears a lot of comments
about the portion of her anatomy about to get it."

"Do people get to watch her get it?" said Allison.

"Well, it is closed to the general public, but practically anyone who
has some clout can get in and watch from a window in the Justice Center.
The Justice Center is our combined criminal court, juvenile facility and
jail. It has a central courtyard and there is a scaffold there with a
whipping post in the middle of it. They do it there. Usually at high

"God, it sounds ghastly. Poor Susan!" Erin just shook her head in dismay
for her friend.

"Yes, poor Susan. The night before they measure her for the post and..."

"Measure her for what?" I interjected.

Harriet began to explain. "I'm sorry girls, these details are kind of lurid. The whipping post has a horizontal bar
that sticks out about 2' to project a padded trestle. They use this for
women. The bar is adjusted so that the trestle is positioned right at
the pelvis. This makes her bend forward at the hips when her wrists are
secured to the post. It pushes the buttocks out to provide a better, er
target. The birch is used only on the buttocks and upper thighs. They
want to avoid hitting the back."

We all paused a moment to absorb the grim reality of these details.

Harriet continued. "I have told all of this to Susan, but she wants to
risk it to get out of here. You know, as a practical matter she might be
flogged anyway if she were jailed here. Corporal punishment of the
prisoners is routine for rules infractions, even minor ones. The matrons
even have 'regulation' straps that have been approved by the courts to
deal with misbehavior."

A pretty grim prospect, I thought. I looked at Erin. "Your call, kiddo."
"I...I guess we're ready," said Erin. Allison nodded and said, "we can't
leave Susan here."

"Ok, then," said Harriet with a sigh, shuffling some papers, "I'll call the prosecutor
and the clerk's office. You go back to the hotel. I'll call you."

We waited anxiously in the hotel. The girls paced. Nobody felt like
eating. Finally Harriet called. "Well, Rollin, tell the girls we are set
for 10am in the morning. I've done the best I can. The prosecutor will
reccomend leniency, but I'm afraid of this judge. He is hard on drug
use, especially on kids from the US who come down here on holiday to
raise hell. You had better tell the girls to be prepared to be taken
into custody and spend the night in jail. And for what comes later."


We were an anxious bunch that walked up the steps of the Justice Center the next morning. We were ushered into the courtroom by Harriet. Susan was brought in from a side door. The girls hugged each other and cried. Susan thanked them profusely for returning to help her. Susan was a beautiful girl. A voluptuous redhead, she had shimmering long curly red hair, green eyes and a nice build. She was a robust 5'7" with a large bust and flaring hips. Her well-rounded seat was displayed by the tight prison denim trousers she had to wear. Well, I thought, at least she's well upholstered enough to take it.

Order was called and the judge entered. The judge, an overweight florid man in his late 60's, wore the black robe and wig favored by the English common law countries that had adopted that justice system. Harry wore a barrister's wig and robe as well. He had moved for my admission pro haec vice (for this matter) so I could represent the girls.

The bailiff called the case, Commonwealth vs. Susan Pemberton. The prosecutor then addressed the judge, explaining the charge and how it might be affected by the presence of Erin and Allison. The judge nodded, listening intently, then he addressed Harriet and me.

"Counsel, do I understand that your clients are willing to plead guilty to possession of less than one ounce of a controlled substance, if the charge against Ms Pemberton can be likewise reduced?"

We said yes. The judge indicated that he wished to make sure, and spoke directly to Erin and Allison.
"I admire you for returning to help your friend, ladies, but as you are aware our laws on drugs here are very specific and there are penalties for drug use. Has it been explained to you what those penalties are?"

"Yes, Sir,"
said both girls in a small voice.

"And do you both wish to enter a plea of guilty to the possession charge?"

Both girls looked at each other, then at Susan, then answered in the affirmative.

At this point the prosecutor jumped in and said that his office recommended leniency in the form of immediate deportation for all three defendants. Harry spoke next pointing out that Susan had spent 10 days in jail already. I got up and told the court that the girls had been punished already (without being specific as to how). The judges eyebrows arched up at this bit of information. At this point our hopes were high. Those hopes, however, were dashed by the next pronouncement from the bench.

The judge indicated he was ready to rule. "The defendants will rise,"
said the bailiff.

"Susan Pemberton, Erin Hand, and Allison Carter, you are all guilty of illegal drug use. That is a serious crime on St Johns. Drugs are a cancer on our island society. Year after year you American students come down here and think you can flount our laws and get away with it."

Uh-oh, I thought. This was bad. The guy was working up to something. The girls were standing there, trembling as he continued the tirade.

"Well, you young madames cannot, and I'm going to make an example of you three so you can go back home and tell your friends, tell the newspapers, tell anyone you care to that drugs in St Johns will not be tolerated!" He was almost shouting.

When he stopped you could hear a pin drop in the courtroom.

"I'm going to reduce the charge for you Ms Pemberton, but under the reduced charges I'm sentencing you three to the maximum permitted by our law. Erin Hand and Allison Carter, you will each receive 24 lashes to be administered in the approved manner for juveniles by the department of corrections. Susan Pemberton, you will be given 36 lashes to be administered according to proper procedure for adult female offenders. And, ladies, I hope this punishment is a salutatory experience for you three. Sentence will be carried out within 24 hours and you are then to be deported. That is all. Bailiff, take Ms Hand and Ms Carter into custody. Call the next case."

Erin's knees buckled and I nearly had to catch her. Allison gasped loudly. Two bailiffs approached. Before anyone could react Allison and Erin were cuffed and were starting to be led away.

"Please, help, Uncle wait...just a minute. Can they do this?" Erin entreated, practically dragging her heels as they hustled her along.

"Just a minute," I pleaded. The bailiffs stopped. One of them turned to Harriet and I.

"They are to be taken into custody now, counselors. Sorry, but we have our procedure. The pre punishment physical will be at 10am. You may see them there. There will be no visiting tonight. Miss Pemberton will accompany the punishment detail to prepare the rods for her correction at 5pm today if you care to observe from outside the compound like everyone else." The guy was brusque and all business.
The three frightened girls were then hustled out of the courtroom.

Harriet and I looked at each other. She shook her head and sighed. "Best we could do, Rollin. That judge, Forbisher, is hard on drug cases. He has an addict daughter. Hates dealers and thinks the way to get to the problem is to levy severe punishments. It could have been worse, though. He could have kept Susan's sentence at three years and had Erin and Allison whipped. Let's go back to my office and I'll fill you in on what we do next.

The last thing I saw was the frightened look in the eyes of the girls as they were led away in cuffs to spend what was to be a very terrifying night in view of what was in store the next day.

                     Chapter 5

We went to Harriet's favorite spot for lunch. I thought about the "lunch" that the girls were probably getting. I had called Linnea and given her the bad news. She was disappointed but later philosophical about the punishment the girls were to receive in the morning.

"A good whipping never did anybody any harm," she mused." It hurts like hell, though. Believe me, I know. My father, your great uncle, was a firm believer in the corrective power of a good strapping for disobedience and I found myself being marched out to the barn on more than several occasions growing up. He raised some welts on my behind with a harness strap, I can tell you. I guess Erin could be bruised a bit but that's to be expected. Don't get me wrong. I feel sorry for Erin and her friends, and it must be scary, being in jail, but Lord, those girls brought it on themselves. Drugs! And they knew better!" Softening, she added, "You'll look out for her, I know, Rollin. Just...just...make sure it's legal--I mean how they do it, you know?"

I told Linnea that my collegue had assured me that they followed a strict procedure, before , during and after. I even put Harriet on the line to tell her that the punishment is designed to be painful but not cause permanent injury. That's scant consolation when you know that at 10pm the next morning you're going to be whipped as hard as a sturdy matron can manage, I thought.

Harriet told me to meet her on the street outside the compound at 5pm. That would be when the punishment detail would bring Susan out to prepare the switches for the birch rod to be used on her the next day.

When I arrived outside the grounds to the Justice Center there were about 20 people standing around. Most looked like islanders although there were a few tourists. A grove of willow trees took up one corner of the greenspace inside the iron fence shutting the grounds off from the rest of the world. I sidled up to Harriet who regarded the crowd with a dour expression.

"Voyeurs," said Harriet disgustedly, waving her hand at the onlookers. "They've got nothing better to do than watch some poor girl be humiliated. They must get this vicarious thrill knowing that the girl they see out here cutting and skinning switches is going to get her bottom whipped in the morning."

Just like Madame LaFarge at the foot of the guillotine, I thought-- a few "courthouse rats" with too much time on their hands. They were talking excitedly and avidly reading the notice displayed at the entrace gate announcing the fact that one Susan Pemberton, having been convicted of drug possession, would receive 36 lashes with the island birch on the morrow in the courtyard.

"Serves 'em right, I say," proclaimed a stolid matron loudly. "These little madames parading around in their little thong bikinis should all have their behinds whipped. Yes indeed. Whipped real hard!" she added, eyes aglow.

I surmised that it would do no good to point out to her that the punishment had nothing to do with thong bikinis. She was obviously rapturous over the prospect of a good flogging for any attractive young woman who could display herself in a thong bikini.

At about five we could see a small procession emerging from the side of the building. It was Susan with two matrons and a guard. Susan wore the tight regulation denims and a halter top. I decided that she was a tiny bit bottom heavy--still very attractive--the slender waist maybe offset her swelling bottomcheeks, making them look all the more prominent, perhaps. They stopped at the grove of willow and I could see the matron pointing to several choice switches. She the handed Susan a small scissor-like pruning tool. Susan stood up on tiptoe throwing her bounteous bottom into stark relief as she reached to cut the indicated withes. Even from where I stood I could see her blushing with shame at having to perform such an ignominious task. The catcalls and comments from the watchers added to her humiliation.

"Look at the ass on that one--she'll get it good."

"Yeah, they've got a lot to work with--that's a butt that's going to get a right smart whippin'."

"She'll be standing up on the plane for sure. I heard they're deporting her right aftewrwards."

"Ralph--stop ogling. She'll be getting that fanny whipped good and proper--a taste of our island justice. Ralph, you disgusting oaf, you're practically drooling. Well, that's enough of this. I should cut a switch for you at home. Come along." Ralph reluctantly trotted after the formidable housewife like a puppy.

"It says it's to be 36 strokes. Ouch! She'll feel that for a long time."

"Hey, sweetie, just remember", called out some jerk in the throng, "--this hurts us more than it'll hurt you." General laughter followed.

"Grin and bare it, honey, grin and bare it." More chuckles.

Susan must have been mortified. I know she was trying to ignore the remarks, but I could not imagine the shame inflicted by a bunch of strangers looking on and discussing your imminent whipping like it was a circus sideshow.

They cut quite a few switches. Harriet told me that their regulations called for one rod per dozen strokes. As Susan cut where they told her, a matron took and trimmed the switches to length using a yardstick to measure. We understood that 30" was the uniform length specified.
It took all of 15 minutes to complete this mortifying chore, but I'm sure that for Susan they were long minutes, though probably not as long as the 15-20 minutes that it would take tommmorrow for them to give her the actual punishment. The trimmed and peeled switches were tied in a bundle and the punishment detail escorted Susan back to the compound. I have to confess, I was watching the gentle sway of her sexy rear in those tight denims as she walked away.

Harriet and I retired to her house that evening. There was nothing more to be done. Harriet changed into a very fetching sundress made of some thin cotton. She made us some fruit concoction with rum in it, and brought the pitcher over to the table in front of the sofa.  "If we tried to mount some sort of appeal or PR campaign we would only prolong this thing, and in the end the girls would be whipped anyway, right?" I just wanted to confirm this. I sort of felt that maybe we hadn't done everything we could have.

"Right," said Harriet. "This island is rough for law 'n order. Especially drugs. I know how they think. If they let these girls off with a scolding it sends the wrong message. As I told you, they use the birch for petty thievery too. I had a client a few months back--court appointed, you know, we all get them. Pretty girl. Single mom. Two young children. She says she didn't lift anything from the store, that it was a mistake. I believed her, and I told her she'd sound and look good to a jury. Well, they offered her 24 strokes for a guilty plea. She couldn't raise the money for bail and she had those two kids to take care of--so she opted for the birch."

"She did a lively dance, Rollin. When they commenced to whipping her little seat she was stoic at first, then she started yelping and squirming. At the end she shrieked and cried like a baby. They took their time, too-- 24 slow deliberate strokes in the noonday sun. She said later that at first it stung like bees and then like a slow fire building up. Not so bad at first but then as the pain builds on top of itself it takes your breath away. By about number six she was yelping and dancing. But you know, by 20 she was doing sort of a slow grind against the bar...." Her voice trailed off and her eyes had a distant look.

"Is this how you learned all this? the procedure, I mean? Through this client?"

" What?" She'd been distracted. "Oh, yeah, she was my first. This was all new. I had done a little bit of everything, you know, divorce, wills, real estate--even some juvenile and criminal stuff. The corporal punishment law had been in effect for about 3 years before I got here. At first I was appalled, but I don't know--it's probably better in a lot of cases than jail. And for women it's not really brutal in the sense of injury or scars, but it stings like hell. Also, it's more shameful. You know, to get your ass whipped like that. Frankly, I think there's a sexual element too. In fact," her voice dropped to a conspiratorial level, "I've heard that some women even become ah...aroused by a birching." She blushed as she said it. It brought something back to me that she'd said the previous night. I couldn't pin it down--it was hanging on the edge of my memory--out of focus.

I acknowleged that I knew something about this, and under the influence of Harriet's island punch or whatever, started to tell her about Karen and her experiment with the "sandal". Her eyes grew wide as the tale unfolded. I guess we'd both had a few drinks. Harriet flushed as the details poured out. I could swear her nipples hardened, from what I could see through the thin top of her dress. Something was going on with her.

"You spanked her?" she said breathlessly. I nodded. "Over her skirt?" I shook my head. "Nooo...on her ...panties?" Another head shake. "Bare... er, bottomed?" A yes nod. "I can't believe this! This was experiment? And then what? Tell me!" She was visibly excited. She licked her lips, eyes shining.

"Well...the sex was pretty.. ah..intense."

"Oh, my! Rollin! And I always thought you were so very proper with us ladies. Now I know how naughty you are," she teased, "and a brute as well." She was trying to compose herself. She paused, then asked, "Did you put her across your knee like some bratty little girl?" I nodded. "So you put her over your knee, pulled down her pants and gave her a spanking just so she could feel what a correctional paddling felt like. And then you...then you..."

"That's about the size of it."

"I wonder about the size of it," she giggled.

"Now who's being naughty?"

"Well, Rollin you come in here looking all fine and fit and start telling tales of spankings for girls on their bare bottoms...what's a lady to do?" Her voice was now an octave lower and she leaned toward me. I grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to me. She mashed her lips to mine and we kissed, deeply, her furtive tongue seeking mine. My hand found her breast and I palmed it gently pinching the erect nipple. She groaned with pleasure. I stood up pulling her with me. She pulled away for a moment then unzipped the little sundress. It fell to the floor leaving her in a wispy bra and thong panties. Wow! She was gorgeous. She was sort of long waisted with baseball sized perky breasts and wide flaring hips. Now as we resumed the kiss my hands roamed her sumptuous seat, caressing and kneading the resilient mounds. She responded with a low moan and by grinding her pelvis against mine.

We moved back to the couch. I sat down and cradled her face up in my lap and continued kissing her while my hand caressed her breasts. After awhile I slid my hand between her legs. Yep, the gusset of the thong was slippery wet. She groaned as I slid my fingers up and down her slit. She started humping against my hand then stopped. She propped herself halfway up.

"Try it on me," she said in a throaty whisper. I thought, "Huh?" But I got her meaning as she turned over and crawled face down across my lap, stretching her body out along the couch, her hips cocked over my right thigh. Her impudently rounded bottomcheeks jutted up, soft, inviting. She looked back at me. "Go ahead, spank me. I want to see what it feels like. Smack my bottom."

"You want me to spank you?"

"Umm...yes. The idea of it gets me hot. I just want to feel what it's like to get a real fanny warming. You will won't you? Don't you think I have a nice fanny?" And she gave it a little wiggle. Who could resist?

"As you wish, my dear." I patted and rubbed the fleshy mounds. She purred, and arched her fanny up even higher. Then I started smacking her with little half force slaps. Her rear wobbled deliciously, and she gasped in pleasure. I spanked from side to side, slowly to let her absorb each one. She writhed and ground her hips in response to each one. Then I picked up the pace, briskly spanking now. She let out a stream of "Oh...oh...oh" as my palm went smack! smack! smack! Her bottom was getting pink now, then hot pink as I spanked a little harder. These spanks were interspersed with rubbing, kneading and a few trips by my hand to that wet spot between her legs. Then I landed about ten good hard smacks, in a right! left! right! left! pattern. She gave a squeal and ground her hips into my lap.
"Oooh....Rollin..that stung!" she bleated.

"Well this is a spanking you know. It's supposed to sting."

And with that I delivered another 10, this time medium hard. My hand struck firmly, flattening each jouncy summit. The delicious mounds gave a little quiver and than spang back to their original rounded shape as each solid smack landed.

Smack! A firm crack to her left cheek.
Smack! Another one to the other side.
Smack! Smack!
"Ouch! Ouch!" She gave a little jump and kicked her legs.

I kept it up, alternately smacking her bouncing derriere soundly and pausing to rub. When I did this she humped her hips, ginding her pelvis on my leg. Her bottom color changed from pink to hot pink to a tomato red hue as I continued her sexy chastisement. She started humping in time now, pushing her bottom up to meet my descending hand. I could sense she might be close to cumming.
After a fast flurry of about a dozen, I stopped and pulled her up. Her mouth was a wide "O" and she rubbed her cheeks as she knelt on the couch, her eyes shining, her chest heaving.

"Now I know what all the fuss is about," she said. "Ooo...I'm hot. Everywhere. Mmmm, that was wonderful," she breathed and slid to the floor kneeling between my legs. She undid my zipper and pulled out my rock hard penis. "Did spanking me do all that?" she said licking her lips. I could only groan in assent because she proceeded to slip my member between her lips and swirl her tongue around the head. I was lost in a paroxism of pleasure. She eventually stopped, shucked down my pants and slipped off her bra and thong. My cock was sticking straight up as she lowered herself on it and started to pump up and down. The sliding friction was exquisite. She was moaning now and pumping harder and faster. She came in a shuddering climax, shaking like a rag doll. I came a second or two later, pushing up with my hips, banging against her pelvic bone. We collapsed in each other's arms, breathless and spent. Until we recovered, that is. The next one was longer and more leisurely. Finally, exhausted, we fell asleep in each other's arms.

                    Chapter 6

The next morning we presented ourselves at the Justice Center at 9am. Harriet and I were to be allowed to observe the proceedings for Erin and Allison. Only attorneys for the girls could be there on their behalf. There was to be a medical exam for all three--which we could monitor--then Erin and Allison would receive their punishment. After that, at high noon, Susan would receive the birch.

We were met by a representative from the prosecutor's office, a smartly dressed woman who said her name was Helen Schiff. She was all business---dark suit, black hair pulled back in a bun, black rimmed glasses--yep, young assistant DA all the way. I wondered if she volunteered for this. We shook hands, and we were taken to the infirmary and instructed to stand off to the side in an examination room.

They brought in Allison and Erin. The girls looked relieved to see us and gave us a wan smile. They looked like they hadn't slept much. They were in street clothes. Their stay was too short to merit prison garb. Not so with Susan. She was brought in wearing her denims and halter from the day before. She looked worried.

"Alright, let's get started." This from a beefy woman who looked to be the matron in charge. "I'm Mrs Morris and I'm in charge of this punishment detail. First, you girls are to be examined by Dr Blumquist to certify your fitness for punishment. We'll then take the two junior girls upstairs. Ms Pemberton, you will wait until noon for imposition of sentence. Cooperate and this will go smoothly and you'll be allowed to leave St Johns today. Make trouble for us and you might not. The very least we can do is order additional strokes, and belive me, you don't want that. Do I make myself clear?" Nobody said a word. "Well, do I?" she barked.

"Yes, ah... ma'am" squeaked Erin.

"Yes ma'am, yes." said Allison and Susan together.

She looked at all three for a moment. "Good. Alright, ladies, now strip. Everything. Let's go."

The three girls looked at each other like 'Gee do we hafta?' The punishment detail consisted of Mrs Morris, a juvenile matron escorting each of the girls, and a female guard who had custody of Susan. Harriet and I were the only non-prison personnel.

"This gentleman is your attorney ladies. You picked him, so don't go all modest on me. Take your clothes off."

Allison, Susan and Erin proceeded to strip. Although I had seen Allison and Erin both practically naked before, I still marvelled at how beautiful they both were-- Erin with her petite but perfectly proportioned figure, and Allison with her more bounteous figure. Susan was a lush and curvacious woman, perhaps a tad bottom heavy, but that just made her more alluring. Harriet looked at me with a raised eyebrow, but I could only give her a questioning grimace, like what am I supposed to do? I tried to distract my mind. It wasn't fair to witness such a lovely unveiling in such stark surroundings and for such a grim purpose.

They were given hospital type gowns. As they were tying these, the doctor arrived. As if a pre-whipping physical were routine, he matter-of-factly examined each girl, listening to her heart with a stethescope, taking blood pressure--Christ, I could have told him that their little hearts would be racing a mile a minute. Then the worst part. Each one had to bend over the examining table while the doctor raised their gowns and inspected each one's buttocks to certify them fit for flogging. Understandably they all blushed at this shameful indignity. I understood that it was necessary--any cuts or bruises and they wouldn't proceed. The doc made some notes on a chart then addressed the head of the punishment detail.

"All are fit and ready to undergo punishment, Mrs Morris."

"Thank you doctor. All right girls, you heard him. You are healthy young ladies and can stand up under the punishment you're going to get. Just a word of advice--when the whipping starts, don't clench. It hurts more. Also, go ahead and cry. Don't try and be the strong silent type. Now, I'm the head of this detail but I'm not the one who's doing the flogging. That would be Ms Anna Klochek. Ms Klochek has been specially trained to administer the punishment prescribed for you by our courts. She is waiting for us upstairs. Let's go."

I couldn't decide if this was good news or bad news. I settled on bad. She had probably had lots of practice and could therefore swing a punishment strap hard with unerring accuracy.

"Clara," she said to Susan's guard, "escort Miss Pemberton back to her cell."

And with that she ushered us out into the hallway for a walk down a long corridor to a stairway. Erin and Allison were clad only in thin gowns, like hospital gowns. They were naked underneath. The procession drew some stares, smiles and knowing winks from passersby in the hallway, much to the mortification of Erin and Allison. There was no question that this was a punishment detail headed for the special room set aside for the delivery of juvenile strappings.

We arrived at a nondescript room on the second floor and were ushered in. It was a 20' by 40' room, low ceilinged, about the size of a school classroom. It was unfurnished except for the apparatus that stood in the center of the room. This was a low padded bench having a top in the form of a long shallow "A". Apparantly the prisoner's hips rested at the apex of the A while lying face down on the bench, so that in this slightly bent position the buttocks were the highest point of the body, presenting a well-defined target for the strap. The bench was only 3' high, which meant that the lashes would be applied with a downward stroke.

A powerful looking matron in her mid 30's, short blonde hair, rangy, athletic, who was apparantly Anna Klochek, stood at one end of the room next to a rack of leather straps and wooden paddles.

Harriet and I were told to stand behind a yellow stripe painted on the floor. The girls were taken to the other side of the bench, each one held at the elbow by her guard. Mrs Morris pulled an official-looking document from a valise she held under her arm.

"That's the warrant for the execution of corporal punishment," whispered Harriet. "She has to read it to the defendants."

"Allison Carter, Erin Hand, having been found guilty of violation of the Code of the Island of St John's, sec 18- 411(a), you have been sentenced to receive 24 lashes with the juvenile correctional strap. Have you anything to say?"

Both girls shook their heads. Their faces bore fearful expressions. Erin's eyes flicked to Anna Klochek. I caught a thin smile forming on her face. Erin blushed and looked away.

"Then we will proceed. We will go in alphabetical order. Miss Carter, please remove your gown."

Allison hesitated for a brief moment then slipped the gown off, letting it drop to the floor. Her guard pulled her over to the bench while Mrs Morris said, "Lie face down...move forward a little. Hands down to the sides please."

While Allison was being adjusted, her guard fastened wrist cuffs to Allison's wrists at the front legs of the bench, and ankle cuffs at the back. She then brought a wide strap around from underneath which went across her lower back, and buckled it. Another strap went around her legs just above the knee. Thus fastened, she was completely immobile. She could squirm a bit but that was about it. Her bottom jutted up obscenely in this contraption, the cheeks spread a little, but remained relaxed so as to absorb in the fatty mass of flesh the painful smacks of the strap that were to come.

When she was buckled in, Mrs Morris checked the restraints one last time and nodded to Mrs Klocheck. The blonde matron selected a strap from the wall and advanced toward the bench.

"Just a minute," said Harriet, "I want to examine that strap."

"This is highly irregular, Mrs Reeves. You are here to observe. That is all. You may not interfere."

"That strap is not regulation for juvenile offenders. I wish to examine it. If you please," she said holding out her hand.

"Let her see it," said Mrs Morris to Matron Klocheck, who with a smirk handed the strap to Harriet. From a pocket in her suit coat Harriet produced a small caliper and a tape measure, and proceeded to measure the strap. Allison craned her head to look, eyes wide with trepidation.

"This is not regulation. It is 24" long, not 20", and is 3/8" thick, not 1/4" as called for by your own procedure directives. See for yourself."

Mrs Morris handled the strap, then gave it to Mrs Klocheck. "Ok, Mrs Reeves, you've made your point." To Mrs Klocheck she said: "Use the one hanging next to it."

"Nice job," I whispered.

"That strap looked too heavy. I think they use it for prison discipline for the adult females. The juvenile one is lighter, it won't bruise as much. It's the least I could do for the poor girls. I suspected they might try this--probably on a 'suggestion' from the judge, but he'd deny it in a heartbeat."

Anna Klochek retrieved the proper implement and took her stance next to the bench. Allison closed her eyes, tense, buttocks clenched. The matron put her left foot forward and ran the supple length of leather through her fingers. Bringing it back she swooped it down from overhead. There was a "whoosh" followed by a loud CRACK! as the leather flattened the summits of Allison's bottomcheeks.

"Aiii...ahhh," hissed Allison. A livid line of red spang up on the crowns of her buttocks as the strap was withdrawn.

"One," counted Mrs Morris. Another guard made a note on a clipboard.
The matron took aim again.
Whoosh...CRACK! The jutting fanny jiggled as the strap hit.
"Arrr....owwww..." cried Allison.
Whoosh...SMACK! Another loud smack planted on the quivering mounds of Allison's behind.
"Ohhhh...ssss...ahhh, God it hurts!" squealed Allison, frantic.
"Three." More scribbling on the clipboard.

The strap rose and fell with a steady rhythym, perhaps at intervals of 10-15 seconds. Mrs Klochek was putting her back into it, determined to punish the attractive American as severely as she could. The blows of the strap were explosive. Allison's fanny got redder and her cries more plaintive with each smartly applied lick. The island of St John's was going to make sure these Americans went home with well whipped fannies.

"Oh...hoo...hoo..." Allison cried.
Whisshh....CRACK! A particularly hard one. Allison jerked her head back and let own a shriek. A thin smile appeared on Ms Klocheck's lips. She lined up the next stroke.
Whoosh...CRACK! Allison's buttocks quivered. The red bands were now all blurring together.

The remaining strokes were delivered with that same hard relentless intensity. This was a real punishment. What I had done with the paddle, I could see, had been mild by comparison. Twenty four strokes with what amounted to an old fashioned razor strop, thick and supple, was a serious ass tanning, and I was sure both Allison and Erin would feel the strap's heat for days to come.

I did have to admit that the strapping had been delivered with efficiency and precision. Ms Klocheck knew what she was doing. She stood to the right side and measured her distance. She ran the strap through her her left palm before drawing it back behind her and swinging it up and down in a wide arc. Each searing lick was right on target, each one producing a loud Crack! that reverberated off of the hard walls of the room. The awful smacking sounds were interspersed with Allison's hisses, wails and moans. The whole thing was over in 5 minutes. It must have been the longest 5 minutes of Allison's life, though.

When they let her up she could hardly stand. Her face was contorted in pain, tears streaming down. She sobbed in soft hiccupping gulps. They shuffled Allison to the side, and slipped the gown over her head. Mrs Morris turned her gaze on Erin.

"Miss Hand, remove your gown please."

Erin's frightened eyes darted to the two of us as she dropped her gown to the floor.

"Place her on the punishment bench," intoned Mrs Morris. Erin's guard assisted her in assuming the face down bottoms up position that exposed her seat so vulnerably. Matron Klochek waited patiently, strap in hand.

Erin's whipping was a carbon copy of Allison's, except that Erin wriggled more. The pain of each smack of the strap must have been atrocious judging from Erin's wails which grew more and more frantic with each lick delivered by the strong right arm of the formidable Anna Klochek. Whoosh...SMACK! Whoosh...SMACK!  I wondered if she enjoyed this. I think so. Her face beamed with an expression of both determination and a sort of grim joy. She was sweating, her face and arms bearing a light sheen of moisture. She would occasinally break rhythym to brush back an errant lock of hair. After each painful smack we observed Erin grinding her hips into the pad of the bench in a vain attempt to assuage the pain. Erin's fanny was smaller and more compact than Allison's. It didn't jiggle as much as each hard shot impacted the writhing cheeks. I wondered if it hurt her more than Allison. Whoosh...SMACK! "Owwwww."  Whoosh...SMACK! "Aiii....ahhhh...". These were the only sounds heard in the room for the five full minutes that it took to administer 24 strokes with the licky strap. Nobody in the room moved or said a word as all eyes fastened on the chastiser and the chastised acting out their duet of pain.

When all 24 licks had been duly administered, Mrs Morris nodded to Matron Klocheck who was by now, almost breathless. She had outdone herself. Both girls had been given a bare bottom licking to rival the efforts of the burliest male prison guard. The buttocks of both girls had been tanned to a livid red, almost purple. They were both sobbing with pain and humiliation from the ordeal. At least it was over.

"Take them back down to the infirmary," said Mrs Morris. Turning to Harriet and me she said, "We will bring their clothes to them there. They will be released, after Miss Pemberton's birching, which is due to begin in 15 minutes."

"Anna," she said, turning to the blonde matron who had so thoroughly whipped the wriggling bottoms of our clients, "please escort Ms Reeves and her colleague to the yard."

She told us to follow her. We caught up with her and walked three abreast down a long corridor.

"Did you have to hit them so hard?" challenged Harriet. Anna Klochek stopped. She looked at Harriet with a hard glare. "Of course. It's my job to punish. And I punish very thoroughly," she said with a thin smile. "I believe that our punishment should drive the culprit beyond the limits of her ability to bear it--it should break her completely. Only then will she be truly sorry for her crime."

"Well, it's obvious you tried," said Harriet huffily.

"Perhaps you protest too much, Ms Reeves. They had it coming. They got a, what do you call it, good 'trip to the woodshed' today. However, the day isn't over.... and Ms Reeves," she said with a cruel smile,


"You haven't seen anything yet."

                    Chapter 7

We were led into the yard. Harriet and I stepped into the brilliant noonday sun. There were small, portable elevated bleachers that had been erected on either side of a scaffold which stood at one end of the enclosed courtyard. The courtyard itself was a long rectangle in the center of the Justice Center complex measuring about 200' by 100'.

Various dignitaries and "guests" were already seated, some in the bleachers and some in chairs directly in front of the scaffold. Stark and ominous, a whipping post stood in the center of the scaffold. Off to the side was a bucket. Three rods, actually bunches of switches bound at one end, and wrapped in cheesecloth, protruded from the bucket. Otherwise the scaffold was bare except for some chairs.

As attorneys for the prisoner, Susan Pemberton, we were entitled to be in front. No one was permitted on the platform itself except the prisoner and the corrections department people.

The punishment detail emerged from a door at one end of the courtyard. A rather official looking man in his 50's led. I guessed he was the warden. Next to him was a uniformed matron. There were guards on either side of Susan walking abreast.

As they approached the scaffold, a uniformed policeman ascended the platform. This fellow looked young and fit. He put down his hat and started to take off his shirt. It looked like he was to be the "executioner". He was a good looking guy in his 20's, brown curly hair, trim, actually quite handsome. Susan looked up and I could see her give a little start when she realized that a man would be giving her the whipping. Under any other circumstances she would probably thought him quite good looking. I didn't imagine she'd relish him asking her out in view of his appointed task today. Unfortunately, he also had wide shoulders and strong looking arms.

Susan was wearing the same type of white smock that the girls had worn. My impression was that the whole procession looked like some pagan sacrificial rite.  The young officer started to roll his arms and stretch, loosening up his shoulders.

The procession arrived at the bottom of the platform. Susan hesitated, then, prodded by her escorts, she ascended the stairs. When all had reached the top. The warden pulled out a paper and addressing Susan started to read it.

"It's the warrant for execution of the sentence," whispered Harriet. She seemed breathless and agitated. She gripped my hand. "Poor Susan, there's nothing we can do for her now...They haven't had a man do the birching before."

"Anything in their regulations forbid it?" I asked. Maybe this wasn't right.

"No. It doesn't say. It's up to the corrections department. The regulations cover things like how many strokes, the size and length of the rod, that sort of thing." She shivered as she contemplated the police officer with his shirt off, now clad in a tank top, arms crossed...waiting.

Up on the platform the warden started to speak. He read essentially the same charge as the one read to Allison and Erin

"...for which crime you will now receive 36 strokes with the island birch to be delivered as lower discipline to the bare skin. Do you have anything you wish to say before sentence is carried out?"

Susan stammered a nervous "no".

The warden nodded to the head matron and said, " Secure her to the whipping post and proceed."

A sound, yelling from a window above, momentarily diverted everyone's attention.

"Susan, Susan, look up, we're here! You're not alone, Susan!"

Susan and everyone else looked up to the window above. There were Erin and Allison waving with the fist up salute. Susan seemed to straighten up her posture at the sight of her friends.

Next to me Harriet noted, "Uh, oh, trouble. They're not supposed to do that." An official was talking to Anna Klochek and pointing to the window. She nodded and strode off. I tried to follow but a guard stopped me.

"No one allowed in this entrance. You'll have to have an escort."

I'd have to go back in the front gate when this was over, anyway. I returned to Harriet.

"Are the girls in trouble?" I said.

"I don't think so. They'll just tell them to pipe down."

On the platform Susan was ordered to doff her gown. She did so revealing her lush body to the gaze of the spectators. Being a redhead, her skin was white. She had a few freckles, but overall she had a pale skin tone. It would redden quickly under the birch. Susan had an attractive figure. Her slender waist flared out into nicely rounded hips and a full lush derriere. Her bottom cheeks were both rounded and prominent. Nature's perfect spot for punishment.

The two guards led her to the post and positioned her against a horizontal bar with a pad that projected out from the post and pushed her behind out by pressing against her pelvis. Ankle cuffs were fastened to ring bolts. They stretched her hands forward and up, and tied them to a ring high on the post almost forcing her to stand tiptoe. This stretched her thighs and calves slightly and forced her bottom to jut out lewdly, inviting the rod.

Susan turned and looked, wild-eyed at the man who would administer her birching. He reached into the bucket and selected a rod. Drawing it out, he unwrapped it from the cloth and shook it. The switches deployed, fanning out to form an end that looked to be about 3"-4" wide. He swooshed it through the air several times. It made an audible whine.

"They keep it wrapped in wet cheesecloth overnight," said Harriet. "Keeps it supple--they don't want it to dry out."

The young officer looked at the warden.

"If you are ready, Sgt Wiggins, do your duty. Proceed with punishment."

Wiggins took his stance to Susan's right. He carefully measured the birch rod so that the splayed end would fall across both cheeks evenly. Susan flinched as he tapped her bottom lightly. Satisfied that his position was correct, he drew back his arm. The birch rod made a whining sound as it descended and a dry thwack! as it landed. Susan emitted a loud hiss, drawing a breath in through clenched teeth. Someone on the platform called out, "One".

Parallel pink lines spang up on the crowns of Susan's buttocks where the rod had struck. Susan wriggled and flexed her calves. Sgt Wiggins lined up the rod again.

Swiiishh...thwack! The impact caused a fleshy ripple of the cheeks of Susan's rear. Another sharp hiss from Susan. I heard a "Two" solemnly intoned by someone on the platform, apparantly keeping count.

Swiisshhh...whick! Another hard swipe from the rod made Susan arch her head back in pain. It must be stinging, I thought, but she was mostly silent yet. She shifted from foot to foot as if this might alleviate the sting. All it did was made her fanny jiggle lasciviously.

Swissshhh....huick! Number 4. A gasp from Susan.

Swiishhh....thwack!  "5". Susan thrust forward, arching on tiptoe. The pink lines were merging into an overall hot pink hue.

Swiisshhh....huick! "6". Right in the fold at the top of the thighs-a tender spot. I could see Susan's whole body tense in painful reaction to the swipe of the rod.

Having found a rhythm, Sgt Wiggins now started whipping in earnest, delivering a stroke, pausing, then pulling back his arm for the next one. Susan grew more vocal now, yelping as the birch striped her nude fanny which grew redder with every stripe. As the rod landed she would tense and throw her head back. Her bottom jiggled as the rod struck.

At number 12, Wiggins stopped to get another rod. Susan sagged against the bar gulping. She was one third of the way through the painful ordeal. Wiggins took his time unwrapping a second rod. Susan turned her head to see what he was doing, her eyes wide with apprehension.

"Ooh, I can only imagine how frightfully this must be stinging," breathed Harriet, her hand still squeezing mine. "He's really laying into her."

I could only agree. Susan's rear was striped red. The birch wasn't heavy, it was more supple and swishy than anything else, but the cumulative effect must have felt like bee stings on top of bee stings.

Wiggins was ready to start up again. This time he delivered the twelve strokes in sets of three.
He would strike with three quick strokes like sswish! swish! swish! and pause. The first time he did this, Susan rose up on her toes and let out a wail that sounded like "arrrhhh...ahhh...uhh" at each lick. After the second set of three she started dancing, hopping from foot to foot. It was like she was doing a fanny jiggling dance in tune to the birch that scorched her shapely seat in such a pitiless manner.
On the third set she yelled in pain, "Arrhh...ahh...nnnhhh" as each stroke landed. Wiggins had broken into a sweat now. His skin revealed by the tank top glistened with exertion. He pused to wipe his brow, then delivered the last three swipes of the second group of 12. Susan broke down and shrieked. Her bottom was starkly red now. Most most offenders, this would have been the end of the ordeal. Susan had 12 more to go.

She turned her head in our direction as Sgt Wiggins fetched the last rod. I mouthed, "Almost over." Susan nodded weakly, her tearstained face a mask of anguish.

Sgt Wiggins prepared the final rod, shaking the withes to spread them out. As he swooshed it through the air, I could see Susan flinch at the sound. This time he laid them on in hard even strokes. As each swishing lick struck Susan raised up, her buttocks jiggling with the splat of the rod. Then she cried out in pain and danced from foot to foot. She was no longer in control of her body but was dancing to the tune of the punishing birch. By number 28 she was crying continuously and begging shamelessly for mercy. At stroke number 32, however she had slumped her body against the bar and was grinding her pelvis against it in a slow humping motion, like she was being ridden from behind by a vigorous lover. Wiggins paused momentarily, puzzled.

"Oh, God," said Harriet, "look, she's become sexually aroused. I saw this once before."
Everyone watched the unmistakeable writhing in stunned silence.
The lewd display was interrupted by a sharp admonition from the warden.
"Proceed, Sergeant. Finish the punishment."

Sgt Wiggins nodded and drew back his arm, apparantly determined to make the last few memorable.
Swiisshh....huick! "Arhhh....ah...ah.." bleated Susan. The hardest one yet. She ground her hips against the bar in a slow circular motion.
Sweee....thwack! "34." Susan's fanny bounced lewdly.
Swiiissshhh....thwick! "35". Susan humped up and down, in a frenzied motion.
Swiisshhh....huick! "36". Susan rose on tiptoes and screamed, probably partly in relief.

The warden turned to Wiggins. "Good job Sgt."

"Thank you sir," he replied and placed the rod in the bucket with the other spent birches.

"Untie her and take her back to the infirmary." The attending matrons approached to do his bidding. Susan slumped when they untied her. They quickly covered her with the loose gown. Susan's hands gingerly massaged her punished rear cheeks through the thin cotton, and I could see tears roll down her face as they led her away.

"Poor Susan," said Harriet shaking her head. "What an ordeal! To be stripped naked and thrashed with a bundle of switches until you are screaming and dancing. It's especially shameful for a have your rear end whipped like some schoolgirl...and then to even become aroused by it! She will feel the shame of that spectacle for years to come."

The spectators were beginning to melt away.

"I guess that's the point," I ventured. "The pain will fade soon but she will remember this vividly for the rest of her life. Let's go retieve Erin and Allison."

We went back out front and in through intake. To our surprise we were told that the two juveniles had not been released but were being detained in the office of the deputy juvenile head matron.

"Well call her," I demanded. "Those girls are to be released to my custody."

The desk officer picked up the phone. "There is an attorney here, a Mr Hand. With him is a Mrs Reeves, an attorney for Susan Pemberton...yes? alright, I'll send them back...yes, Carla can escort them. I will. Right away, Ms Klochek."

Anna Klochek again. I did not have to be told that this was not good news.

                     Chapter 8

Why was I not surprised that we had not seen the last of Anna Klochek? For a Carribean island, these people were wrapped pretty tight. Now, it seemed, Erin and Allison were in trouble for creating a scene as Susan was being fastened to the whipping post. Harriet blamed herself.

"Dammit, I should have told the girls--they don't allow any vocal demonstations of any kind when punishment is meted out. You noticed that it was pretty silent even though everyone who had a window to the courtyard, including other prisoners was watching," she said as we hurried along.

"Yeah, I noticed that it was sort of quiet." You would think that prisoners watching from the windows would be hootin' and hollerin'.

"That's because they come down hard on other prisoners who shout encouragement or who heckle. I've heard that these violators pay a little visit to a soundproofed upstairs room the next day. I didn't put too much stock in the rumor because no one ever came to me directly. I feel horrible I forgot to tell the girls this."

We arrived at Ms Klochek's office. The lettering on the door gave her title--Deputy Matron, Director of Discipline. Director of Discipline--that figures. A secretary looked up and buzzed an inner office.

"They're here."

Over the intercom came the voice of Anna Klochek. "Send them in."

The secretary rose and indicated for us to follow. We walked through an office that was apparantly Deputy Klochek's and into a room beyond. What we saw there  gave me a cold lump in the pit of my stomach.

Erin and Allison were upended over a pair of sturdy padded stools, their hands and ankles bound by cuffs to the legs of the stools. They had been in street clothes, the dresses they had worn to court. The hems of these dresses had been pulled up and secured at the small of their backs with a strap. Panties had been lowered to their ankles. Their bottoms were bare, red, and swollen--the latter two characteristics the result of this morning's tanning with the strap.

Anna Klochek stood in the center of the room, her hands flexing a thin pliable cane protruding from a handle. She was bending it into a semicircle. Then she whooshed it through the air a few times. It made a sickening whine. Two other guards stood off to the side.

"You're just in time to witness a little supplemetary punishment for your clients here, thanks to that little disturbance of theirs. Our rules absolutely forbid any catcalls or cheers on the part of spectators. When prisoners break this rule we are authorized to punish the offenders. And don't bother calling. I have already spoken with the judge--he witnessed the whole thing and he agrees with my decision as Director of Discipline. They will receive 4 strokes each with the junior cane."

I was indignant. "You can't be serious. Four strokes with that cane on top of what they have been through--it's barbaric!" Both girls looked at me with frightened eyes, helpless, hoping I could do something.

Anna Klochek smiled and shrugged. "They should have obeyed our rules. Now they pay. With their bare little fannies."

"They didn't know there was a rule," I said. I was getting pissed. This was purely a snide payback at Harriet for noticing Klochek's mistake with the heavy strap this morning. This woman had a heightened sense of her own importance.

"Well...whose fault is that? Isn't it your business to know these things and to advise your clients?"

"It's mine," said Harriet, looking Anna Klochek in the eye. Harriet was wearing a suit with a short skirt, white blouse and a jacket. She moved over to a table and began to unbutton the jacket. "It's my fault so cane me instead."

My jaw dropped. "Harriet you can't...". Her look silenced me. "I know what I'm doing, Rollin." She had decided. The determined look said it all.

One of the matrons chuckled and shook her head. "Sorry, honey, nice try, but our procedures don't permit..." Deputy Klochek held up her hand, stopping her underling in mid sentence. Her face broke into a broad smile.

"So, Mrs Reeves, you are willing to take the punishment for these two?" indicating Erin and Allison. "That's a very interesting proposition. How courageous of you. I must say it's unusual. I've never seen an attorney prepared to accept her client's punishment as her own."

The other matron spoke. "Anna, you can't...". Anna gave her a hard stare.
"Shut up, Officer Vasquez, this is my call and I can do anything I want." Then she turned to Harriet, regarding her thoughtfully. I could not take my eyes off of thin thin flexible cane that she flexed with her hands as she considered Harriet's offer. She could bend it almost in a circle. "Hmmm...I'm inclined to say yes to your proposal."

"You'll let the girls go. When this is done we leave," Harriet said evenly.


"All right. We have an agreement."

"Yes we do," said Anna with a wide grin. " And I don't mind telling you, Mrs Reeves, that I will enjoy this." The smile vanished. " Now to business. That suit looks like it would wrinkle. Would you be so kind as to take it off?"

Harriet took a deep breath and unzipped the skirt. She dropped it revealing an ensemble in white satin, a garter belt holding sheer nylons, and panties. She unbuttoned her blouse to show a white satin bra. Lovely. Under other circumstances I would have been dazzled--even as it was, I hated myself for my developing erection.

"The girls," I said, gesturing to Erin and Allison still bound over the stools.

"Oh, yes, release them," Ms Klochek nodded to Officer Vasquez. The assistants unbuckled the girls who rose on unsteady legs, pulled their panties back up, and smoothed their dresses back down. Their faces bore looks of genuine relief which then turned to looks of concern at Harriet's plight.

Harriet had stipped down to bra, garter belt and nylons, and panties. Anna Klochek pointed the cane toward the near stool. "Would you be so kind as to assume the position, Mrs Reeves? Over the stool please, bottom well up."

Harriet took a deep breath and lowered herself face down across the padded top. Her luscious bottomcheeks were turned up and in perfect position for the cane.

"Fasten her down." Two assistant matrons lept do do Ms Klochek's bidding.

Harriet turned her head. "Tying me down isn't necessary. I won't get up."

"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs Reeves--regulations you know. All punishees must be restrained. This will hurt a bit, I'm afraid, and you might jump up and injure yourself."

They buckled her wrists and ankles in and drew the strap across the small of her back. Harriet was completely immobile. Klochek circled her, moving to her front, still flexing the whippy cane. She paused in front of Harriet, idly swishing the wand back and forth.

"Eight strokes, Mrs Reeves. After all, someone must pay for that unseemly outburst."

"What?" I interrupted. "Each of the girls were going to get only 4. Harriet should get no more than that."

"It's 8. Take it or I strap your clients back down over these stools."

"This is illegal and you know it. Don't push it." The reaction of Klochek's two assistants had told me that Anna was way out of bounds. It may have been a bluff but it was a good one.

Her eyes narrowed sharply. Then she shrugged. "Very well, 6, and it stays in this room."

Harriet raised her head slightly and nodded. I looked at Anna Klochek.

She wasted no time. Moving to Harriet's rear, she took a stance and lined up the cane, tapping it gently against Harriet's nether cheeks. Harriet tensed at the sensation of the cane touching her bared seat. Ms Klochek raised her arm to shoulder level and whipped the cane down in a blur. It made a distinct whining sound before it impacted the crowns of Harriet's buttocks with a sharp retort. The fleshy mounds rippled and a red line appeared.

Harriet told me later that she had been totally unprepared for the searing line of pure agony that that first swipe of the cane caused her. It felt like a white hot wire, she said, and the pain spread out from her bottom to engulf her nervous system totally.

When the stroke hit, Harriet's head flew back, her fingers splayed out, and her whole body jerked at the shock. Klochek stepped back, savoring the moment. Harriet had gasped sharply but had not cried out. The blonde matron paced, swishing the cane, waiting. Harriet said later that this must have been deliberate. She knew how to time the strokes because the pain actually peaked several seconds after the cane struck. The skill in timing was to catch the penitant just as the pain was subsiding, because that was when the dread of the next one was starting to build.

She took her stance again. Swisshhh...thwack! Harriet writhed. A second red line appeared. 30 seconds went by. More pacing by Klochek.

SWisshh...thwick! "Arrhh...ah...ah.." Harriet fought to keep her composure under the onslaught of stinging agony from the whippy cane.

Erin and Allison looked on, horrified. Three vivid weals spaced about half an inch apart adorned Harriet's bare wriggling fanny.

Sweee.....huick! "Ahh....oh God, please...ah...ah.."

"Beginning to feel it I see, Mrs Reeves." The blonde matron smiled. She was in her element. "That's good. I like to know that the message is getting through."

She lined up for another stinging cut. Harriet jerked as she felt the gentle tap-tap -tap, then...

Ssswwwiiissshhh....thwack! The hardest one yet, delivered with the full force of Anna Klochek's arm.

Harriet lost it. "Yeeeowwww...a���� 

Klochek didn't rush the last one. I sensed she wanted to savor it. Her obvious objective--the delivery of maximum pain within the strictures of our little agreement.

She planted her feet at Harriet's left side then raised the menacing cane for the sixth time.

Swiiissshhh....thwack! Harriet's body jerked and she let out a plaintive wail. A sixth weal appeared. Harriet sobbed, partly because of the atrocious pain, partly in relief that the ordeal was over. She could not control the sobbing even as she was let up. She had been whipped. Well and truly whipped in every sense of the word.


Later as we lay naked in Harriet's apartment, she would tell me that she had never in her life felt anything that compared to the sheer agony that she had endured that day. It was like the cane burned through you, she said, imprinting its fire on your brain. It felt like the world consisted of only two things...a cane and a bottom. One to bring fire, the other to endure it.

I kissed the weals of course, and spread cold cream on her buttocks. Next I crouched behind her and stuck my tongue as far as it would go into her musky sweetness. I flicked the little bud over and over and ran my tongue up and down the moistened slit. She was curiously on the boil, well juiced, as if the caning had awakened some primordial need for sex, as if the pleasure could go on and on, obliterating the fire ignited by the kiss of the cane.

Then she rode me. Too sore to be on her back, she teased my cock to a hard upright erection with her mouth then with me on my back, she mounted me. She rode me like a wild woman, alternately upright bucking furiously then lying on top gringing her hips, squeezing my erection like she wanted to milk it dry.

Later we lay spoon style on our sides and fucked slowly, torturously slowly. I tried to be careful not to press too hard on her wealed behind. I gave her a languid shafting that gathered steam slowly. The delicious friction of my hard penis sliding in and out of her slickened vagina was making us both deleirious with pleasure. She wanted me to speed up. I resisted. Our climaxes built like a slow moving freight train gathering speed. When neither of us could stand it any more, I let go. So did she. Later, still sore and unable to sit comfortably, she said that the sex we had just had had been the most intense she could remember.

"Still, I don't advise a full swinging bare butt caning as foreplay," she said as we stood, drinks in hand, on her veranda. It was three days later. I had put Erin, Allison and Susan on a plane for Miami the evening of the day they had been flogged. They were only too happy to get off the island.

"What will you do now?" I said. "Still want to stay down here?"

"Despite all that happened, I still rather like it. Do you want to stay in dreary Ohio?"

"You know, I could get used to this," I mused. Pina colada in hand, sun sinking into the ocean, gentle breezes wafting. "Is this a proposition, Mrs Reeves?"

"It is. And you can drop the Mrs."

I told her I liked the sound of it. Hand and Reeves, attys. Specialists in defending smacked bots of all stripes. I told her it was too bad her last name wasn't Crop or Kane or something. I paid for that last remark, but that's another story.






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