“Looks like we’ve got a posh one,” Justice Officer Jenny Talbot said as she looked up from the computer screen on the reception counter and out into the car park.

Senior Justice Officer Helen Brooker turned to look through the same window and saw a silver Mercedes coupe reversing in the car park and then stop in a space over to the right of their Justice Centre building.

“There’s only one occupant. Maybe they want the printing works next door.”

“The lady in the driving seat keeps looking across at our front entrance,” Jenny argued as she watched the driver of the silver car.”

“We’ll see,” Helen Brooker responded. “So, what have we got for ten o’clock?”

“Two clients; a Ms Laura Hancock and a Ms Sara Dennison.”

“It’s twenty to ten. I’d better get our first customer and bring her out to her mother. She should have recovered enough by now.”

“Okay.”

Jenny leaned on the counter and waited. Seeing a woman in her mid-forties looking up anxiously, she smiled across.

“Not long now, Mrs Phillips. My colleague has just gone to fetch Sarah.”

“Will she be okay?” The woman asked tentatively.

“She’ll be fine,” Jenny answered with a reassuring smile. Her bum will be a bit sore, I’m afraid, but she won’t have come to any great harm. She’ll probably welcome a nice cold shower when you get her home.”

Just at that moment, Helen came back into the waiting room escorting a teenage girl who was crying and with her face contorted in pain. Her right hand delicately rubbed the seat of her black trousers.

“All done, Mrs Phillips,” Helen told the woman.

Without speaking, Mrs Smith placed the magazine she was reading on a small table, got up and put an arm around the young female as she escorted her out of the building. They drove off in a small blue car, just as another car arrived in the car park.

“This could be for us,” Jenny noted as the car stopped close to the Justice Centre building. “Another teenager, by the look of it.”

“Yes, and your posh lady keeps looking over our way. Maybe she’s our customer after all.”

“She’s a bit old for us.”

“Not necessarily. Maybe she opted for reformative justice.”

“Maybe.”

As the two officers stood behind the counter, they looked at the newly arrived car and saw the driver was a dark-haired woman, perhaps in her mid-forties, and the front seat passenger was a teenage girl with similar dark hair. They stayed in the car, but took occasional glances at the centre’s front door. Meanwhile, the woman sitting at the wheel of the Mercedes kept looking across.

Just then, the woman got out of the Mercedes and the two officers saw she was wearing an expensive looking cream-coloured dress with a white jacket perched on her shoulders. After surreptitiously looking around the car park and seeing very little activity, she started walking towards the Justice Centre Building.

“Can I help you?” Jenny called across cheerfully, as the woman entered.

The woman, with well-groomed blond hair, possibly in her came across to the counter. She quickly looked the two officers up and down, noting their smart uniform of navy-blue trousers and pale blue shirt.

“I think I have to give you these,” she said in a refined voice, offering Helen several printed pages bound together with a staple.

“My colleague will deal with your paperwork, er, Ms Dennison,” Helen replied curtly. “Jenny, I’ll just see they’re ready for our ten o’clock appointments.”

When Helen disappeared through a door leading to the rear of the premises, Jenny took the papers from Ms Dennison and looked through them. They stated that a Ms Sara Dennison had been prosecuted for driving at over forty miles per hour in a thirty limit, her third conviction for speeding in the space of just under a year.

“Are you Ms Sara Dennison?” Jenny asked, still a little surprised having expected someone quite a bit younger. From the paperwork, she could see Ms Dennison was forty-three years old.

“Yes.”

“You’re early,” Jenny looked at the clock again. It was just fourteen minutes to ten. “Can you show me some ID, please?”

The woman produced a driving licence from her expensive-looking handbag.

“That’s fine, Ms Dennison. You can put your licence away now.”

Jenny read the papers more carefully, and found this lady had accepted the court’s offer of receiving corporal punishment rather than be banned from driving. She had already paid a fine of three hundred pounds, according to a receipt amongst the papers.

“So, you’re here to receive ten strokes of the cane. Is that correct?”

Sara Dennison looked briefly around the room, saw there were just the two of them present, and almost whispered, “Yes, that’s correct.”

“Please don’t feel embarrassed, Ms Dennison,” Jenny said, trying to sound reassuring. “This alternative punishment is becoming increasingly popular.”

“Is it? Perhaps it is for people your own age. For me, it’s a bloody humiliation I could well do without.”

“I can understand that, Ms Dennison, but at least it will enable you to retain your driving licence. I expect that’s important to you.”

Jenny was tempted to add that it might also teach the woman to keep to the speed limits, but she didn’t.

“Of course it is,” Ms Dennison snapped. “I run my own business. I can’t do without a car. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Jenny smiled patiently.

“Take a seat, Ms Dennison. It will be a few minutes. There’s coffee in the machine and water in the dispenser.”

Ms Dennison looked round, then silently went over to a reasonably comfortable-looking armchair and sat down.

At that moment, the front door to the centre opened and a middle-aged woman and a teenage girl entered. Jenny looked through the window and saw the small car parked outside was now empty.

“Can I help you?” Jenny greeted the two new arrivals.

“This is my daughter, Laura Hancock,” the older woman announced. “I’m her mother, Mary Hancock.”

Jenny looked at the two women. The mother, Mary, was clearly quite tense, while daughter Laura was almost shaking with fear.

“Do you have some papers to show me?” Jenny asked.

“Yes,” Mrs Hancock answered, and began delving into her bag. “Here you are.”

Jenny checked through the paperwork.

“So, Laura, you’re here to receive eight strokes of the cane, a sentence awarded after you pleaded guilty to being drunk and disorderly in the town centre. Is that correct?”

“That’s correct,” Mrs Hancock answered for her daughter.

Jenny looked at the daughter, a girl just seventeen-years-old, two years younger than herself. Short, slightly overweight, the girl was dressed in black leggings and a white cotton top. Laura avoided eye contact with the young Justice Officer.

“Do you have proof of ID, please?”

Mrs Hancock pulled a credit card for herself and Laura offered a student bus pass with her photo and name.

“Please go and sit down. We’ll be with you shortly.”

Mother and daughter, both still tense, went and sat down near to Sara Dennison. Mrs Hancock smiled weakly towards Sara.

“Is yours being done now?” Mrs Hancock innocently.

“Sorry?”

“Is your son, or is it your daughter, being dealt with now?” Mrs Hancock rephrased her question.

“Um, no,” Sara answered curtly.

“Oh! So…?”

“Yes, it’s for me,” Sara Dennison confirmed, hoping that would quieten the woman.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise.”

The three women then sat quietly in an embarrassed silence.

Jenny sorted through the paperwork for the two women awaiting punishment, then was interrupted by Helen Brooker joining her from the rear of the centre.

“We’ve a bit of a problem, Jenny. They need me over at the court building. Some woman is being extremely disruptive.”

“They need a bit of muscle, do they?” Jenny joked.

“Behave!” Helen replied, giving Jenny’s bottom a smack. “Anyway, can I leave you to deal with these two? They’re almost ready for them. Give it five minutes and take one of them through. Actually, you could perhaps use two changing rooms and take them both through. Will you be okay? I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“I’ll manage. No worries.”

Helen Brooker quickly checked her own uniform, similar to Jenny’s, to make sure she was suitably presented, and left the building. Jenny had been left on her own before, so she felt quite capable of organizing things for these two awaiting their punishment. Now, she had to choose one of the two to go first. Waiting until the clock showed five minutes past ten, she came around from behind the counter. The three in the waiting area all looked at her anxiously.

“Laura, would you come with me, please?”

Laura looked nervously at her mother, but remained seated.

“Don’t worry, Laura. I’ll look after you,” Jenny said, taking the girl by the arm and starting to pull her out of her chair.

“Can I go with her?” Mrs Hancock asked.

“Sorry, no. Against regulations, I’m afraid. You just wait here. Laura will be fine. I’ll take good care of her.”

Jenny managed to get Laura to her feet, and she led the girl through the door leading to the rear of the centre.

“What happens now?” Laura asked, clearly terrified.

“I’m taking you to a changing room where you can get ready. That’s all that’s happening for now.”

“I’m just so scared!”

“I’m sure. This isn’t going to be pleasant, but it’s not all that bad, and once you’ve been done then your record is clean. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

“But what they’re going to do to me, it’s going to be really horrible, isn’t it?”

“It’s going to hurt, I can’t lie. And your bum is going to be pretty sore afterwards, but you’ll soon get over it. Here we are.”

Jenny stopped at a door marked ‘Changing Room 1’, opened the door and pushed Laura in. She followed and closed the door behind them.

Laura looked nervously around. It was a small room with a padded bench occupying most of the right hand side wall and a single chair and table to the left. Several coat hangers hung from hooks at the opposite end of the room. One held a short thin orange tunic, much like a T-shirt, but shorter.

“This will be your room while you are with us, Laura,” Jenny started off on a well-rehearsed narrative. I’ll lock the door when we leave, so your property will be quite safe.”

“When we leave?”

“When I take you through to, you know, get your punishment.”

“Oh god!” Laura burst into tears. “Please, I’ll never get drunk again! I promise!”

“Yes, but you already did, Laura. You have to take your punishment for that. Then, yes, don’t get drunk again and you’ll never have to come here again. Okay?”

“I suppose.”

“Good. Come along. Let’s get you stripped off.

“What? Everything?”

“Yes, please. You can keep your bra on if you prefer. Put the rest of your clothes on this table here.”

With Jenny’s encouragement, Laura managed to slip off her white cotton top. She left her white bra on while she kicked off her shoes and fumbled with her black leggings.

“Do you need any help?” Jenny offered when removing her leggings seemed to be taking Laura an age.

“It’s just, I’m so nervous,” Laura tried to explain her hesitation.

“That’s okay, I understand. I’d be nervous too. Do you want to lean on me while you step out of your leggings?”

“I’ll manage,” Laura snapped. She picked up her leggings from the floor, folded them roughly and placed them with her white cotton top on the bench. “Won’t this do?” Laura asked when she was left standing in just a white bra and brief white panties that left the lower cheeks of her bottom bare as well as the upper portions.

“No, sorry, panties aren’t allowed, just your bra. Then I’ll put this tunic on you,” Jenny replied, taking the orange garment off its hanger and holding it ready for Laura.

“But, these knickers are quite brief, they won’t make much difference.”

“It’s regulations, Laura. You’re only allowed to wear this tunic and your bra.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll fetch another staff member and we’ll hold you down and pull your knickers off. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“I suppose not,” Laura answered with a sigh. “Okay, you win.”

Reluctantly, Laura pushed her brief white panties down, stepped out of them and added them to her small pile of clothes on the bench. Jenny threaded the orange tunic over Laura’s head and pulled it down as far as it would go.

“It’s too short!” Laura exclaimed, finding the tunic hardly extended below her waist.

“It’s only intended to cover your upper parts, Laura. It’s actually slightly long, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“Only my upper parts? What do you mean?”

“We need your bum clear of the tunic, don’t we?”

“Oh god!”

“It will be a few more minutes before they’re ready for you, Laura. Wait here. I’ll be along to collect you shortly.”

Laura left the room, locking the door behind her, and went back to the waiting area.

“Sara Dennison, please.” She announced.

Ms Dennison seemed surprised to be called, having expected nothing to happen until Laura Hancock returned.

“Now?” She queried.

“Yes, come with me and we’ll get you changed.”

“I suppose there’s some awful garment for me to wear, is there?” Ms Dennison asked as Jenny led the way.

“There’s a gown, yes. It’s so we can deal with you easily and without risk of damaging your own clothing.”

“Huh!”

Jenny took Ms Dennison to a changing room opposite the one allocated to Laura. She unlocked the door and allowed the woman to enter, closing the door behind them. The room was similar in size to Laura’s, and had a similar padded bench, small table, chair and coat stand with several coat hangers. Another short orange tunic hung on one of the hangers.

“What now?” Sara asked.

“Strip off, please. You can put your clothes on the table. Make use of any coat hangers you want. You may keep your bra on, but everything else has to come off.”

Sara Dennison stood still, waiting.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Are you staying in the room?”

“Yes, I’m required to. Don’t be shy, we’re all girls together.”

“Good grief! This is so humiliating!”

Despite her discomfort, Sara reached behind her and tried to slide down the zip of her cream-coloured dress. It appeared stuck.

“Could you help me?” Sara asked, turning her back on the young officer.

“Of course.”

Jenny found a stray thread had jammed the zip, but managed to clear it and slide the long zip down. The dress that had fitted snugly around the woman’s womanly curves loosened and Jenny could see Sara was wearing brief pale blue panties, a matching bra and light tan coloured tights.

After the dress was removed, Jenny took it and placed it on one of the coat hangers. Ms Dennison sat on the edge of the padded bench to slowly ease off her tights, then she stood up to slip her pale blue panties down her shapely legs.

“I can keep my bra on? Right?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

Jenny took the short orange tunic off its hanger and helped Ms Dennison put the short orange tunic over her head and roll it down until it reached a few inches below her waist. Sara gathered the fairly tight-fitting garment around her and looked down.

“It’s far too short for me. I need something longer.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jenny replied. “It just needs to cover your upper body and not much else.”

“So, it’s done here, is it? In this small room?”

“No, when it’s your turn I’ll take you along to another room.”

“What? You expect me to walk around with my bum and everything on show, do you?”

“That is correct, Ms Dennison, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure no one sees.”

“This is just so tiresome! You’re not the one who is going to thrash me, are you? I mean, you’re so young.”

“It’s usually done by a more senior officer.”

“Female?”

“Yes.”

“That’s something, I suppose. Look, how long is this all going to take? I have other things to do, you know.”

“It won’t be long, Ms Dennison, although I don’t think you’ll be wanting to do too much afterwards, at least not for a while.”

“For goodness sakes, you’re only supposed to thrash my backside, aren’t you? I’m sure I can put up with a bit of discomfort.”

“I could phone someone, a friend of yours perhaps, to come and pick you up if you want.”

“God no! I want as few people to know about this as possible, thank you!”

“Okay, but just let me know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t. Look, can’t we do this right now? I could bend over this bench here. Couldn’t you get this cane thing, or whatever you use, and get it over with? All these delays are bloody torture!”

“I’m sorry, Ms Dennison, but I’m afraid I can’t do that. We have procedures and they have to be followed.”

“Red tape, you mean?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs Dennison. I’d do if it I could, but I can’t.”

Jenny quickly left the room, feeling hot and bothered, although she didn’t know why. She went to the end of a short corridor, opened a door marked ‘Punishment Room’ and peered inside.

“Are you ready for the next one, ladies?”

A rather plump lady in her early fifties, looked up from reading a newspaper. Another woman, taller and leaner, picked at her fingernails.

“Yes, ready when you are, Jenny,” the plump lady, Jane Griffin, answered. “No news from Helen, I suppose?”

“Nope. Haven’t heard a thing. I’ll get the next one in.”

As Jenny walked back to the changing rooms, she considered whether she should select Laura, who had been waiting the longest, or whether she might bring Ms Dennison along. After a brief pause for reflection, she entered Laura’s room.

“Would you like to come with me, please Laura?” the young officer said to the teenager sitting at the table.

“Is it now?”

“Yes. Come along.”

“Everyone can see my bum with this short tunic!” Laura protested as Jenny half-dragged her towards the Punishment Room.

“No one will see. Trust me,” Jenny answered, taking Laura’s arm in case she faltered.

They entered the Punishment Room and Jenny introduced Jane Griffin and Monica Edwards to Laura. Laura barely looked at the two officers.

The room, larger than the changing room, had green painted walls, another small desk, and in the centre stood a simple upright chair with its back towards the door. Jane, the heavier, shorter officer of the two, had stood up as they entered. She held a thin, pale yellow cane, straight and about two and a half feet long, in her right hand.

Laura cringed when she saw it, and tried to back away towards the door, but Jenny stopped her.

“Come along, Laura,” Jane Griffin said. “Come and stand behind this chair.”

“Why? What are you going to do?”

“You know what we’re going to do, Laura,” Monica Edwards replied as she tapped the top rail of the chair with her hand, motioning Laura to where she needed to position herself.

“Come on, Laura,” Jenny added as she took the teenager by the arm. “Just stand behind the chair for us.”

Reluctantly, Laura allowed herself to be moved into position until she was just an inch or two from the chair. Jenny held her left arm and Monica took her right arm.

“It’s okay, Laura,” Jenny spoke softly. “All you have to do is bend over the back of the chair.”

With Jenny pushing her left shoulder, and Monica pressing the back of her head, Laura was more or less forced over the back of the chair, the short orange tunic now riding up and fully exposing her naked backside. Jenny and Monica folded Laura’s arms behind her back and held her tight before forcing the girl’s head down low, making her bottom stand out. They held Laura tightly and the girl could barely move.

“You’re hurting me!” Laura protested.

“I’m just folding the tunic up out of the way,” Jane Griffin said as she pushed the tunic well up Laura’s back, ignoring the girl’s protests.

“I’m almost naked!” Laura remonstrated.

“Just hold still, Laura,” Jenny encouraged, her voice faltering only slightly. “It’ll soon be over.”

“Laura, I now need to carry out the court’s sentence. That’s eight strokes of the cane across your bottom,” Jane explained.

“No!” Laura wept.

“Don’t try and resist, Laura,” Monica said. “Just keep still, let Jane smack your bum, then it’s all over. Okay?”

“Please, no!” Laura said through her tears.

Jenny and Monica both gave Jane a nod, unseen by Laura.

With just a whoosh of air to warn of the impending pain, Jane applied the first stroke. The cane bit into the soft mounds of Laura’s buttocks and left a sore-looking red weal.

Laura screamed, and pulled against Jenny and Monica’s restraining grip. It was all they could do to hold her down over the back of the chair.

Jane continued the caning, leaving just ten second gaps between each stroke. After the third stroke, Laura seemed to lose her strength and remained still over the back of the chair while stroke after stroke was applied. In just under two minutes, Laura’s bottom was red sore in colour with eight pronounced angry red lines standing out. The girl was bawling her eyes out.

“That’s it, Laura. All over. You’re done,” Jenny tried to comfort the sobbing girl who seemed to be almost breathless. “Take your time, get up when you’re ready.”

Jenny and Monica released their grip on the teenager, and Laura began easing herself up from her bending position. Her knees were weak and she flopped onto the floor with Jenny holding on to her to stop her falling too sharply. Monica handed Jenny a wad of tissues to assist Laura.

“Try and stand, Laura,” Jenny said. “You can lean on me if it helps. I’ll hold you.”

With a helping hand from Monica, Jenny managed to get Laura to her feet. She took a couple of tissues and wiped Laura’s face. The girl had been wearing make-up and it now looked a sorry mess from the tears that had caused it to run.

“Let me help you back to the changing room and we’ll get you cleaned up before you go back to your mum,” Jenny suggested.

“My bum hurts!” Laura wailed. “It hurts so much!”

“I know, I know. But it’s all over now. Lean on me and we’ll go back to the changing room. Then you can have a bit of a lie-down if you want.”

Jenny draped one of Laura’s arms over her shoulder and they slowly made their way back to Laura’s changing room.

“Lie face down on the bench, Laura,” Jenny said, helping the girl.

“Mind my bum! It’s so sore!” Laura pleaded.

“I know, I know. I’ll be careful.”

With Laura now face down on the bench, the orange tunic tucked well up and away from the girl’s naked bottom, Jenny stood back. The eight strokes had been applied with neat parallel weals indicating precisely where they had landed, with barely a quarter of an inch between each stroke.

“Give it a few minutes, Laura, and the pain will start to settle down. You’ll still feel sore, but it will start to feel a lot better.”

“I want my mum!”

“Try to stay still and I’ll leave you alone to collect your thoughts and recover. Then I’ll come back and we’ll get you dressed and back to your mum. We’ll need to give your face a bit of a wash. Your tears have made your make-up a bit of a mess. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Jenny quietly closed the door and went across to the door for Ms Dennison’s changing room. She entered without knocking, and found the woman sitting quietly on the bench.

“I thought you’d forgotten me,” Sara said tetchily as she looked up.

“No such luck, I’m afraid.”

“Are we finally going to get this over with now?”

“Yes, they’re ready for you now.”

“At last!” Ms Dennison exclaimed, before adding more thoughtfully, “Not that I’m looking forward to this next bit, I suppose.”

“Come along then.” Jenny held the door open.

“Do we have far to go?”

“Not far, why?”

Sara turned her back towards Jenny.

“I was just wondering how far I would be marched with my bare bum, not to mention everything else, on show. Are you going to handcuff me?”

“No, the building is secure. You can’t leave without a pass key that only staff have.”

“Then, I’m hardly likely to give you a shove and run off across the car park dressed like this, am I?”

Jenny chuckled. “No, I suppose not.”

“I suppose my hair is already a mess, is it?”

It amused Jenny that Ms Dennison would be worried about the state of her hair at this moment.

“Do you want me to tie your hair back so it doesn’t flop over your face when you’re bent over?”

“Bent over? I have to bend over to have my bottom smacked, do I?”

“Actually, yes.”

“Then yes, perhaps you should tie my hair back. I’ve got a ribbon in my bag.”

Jenny took the ribbon and carefully grouped Ms Dennison’s long blond hair behind her head to form a ponytail.

“There, that should hold it nicely.”

Ms Dennison took a deep breath. “Right, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. Let’s get this horrible business over with.”

“It’s ten strokes, isn’t it?” Jenny queried as they walked slowly towards the punishment room.

“Yes. Probably not the most comfortable thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“Be kind to me, young lady.”

The sudden suggestion of vulnerability surprised the young Justice Officer, and she found herself at a loss for words.

“Sorry,” Ms Dennison added. “I probably came across as hard as nails and completely unrepentant, didn’t I? Believe me, I’m not feeling at all strong at the moment. I’m scared, and I wish to god I’d had a lot more respect for the speed limit.”

“I’m sure,” Jenny finally replied. “I suppose that’s the idea of this punishment, isn’t it?”

“Punishment? That’s a scary word. A speeding ticket sounds almost respectable, just an inconvenience, but I am being punished, aren’t I? I have to accept that.”

“A short, sharp shock.”

“Yes.”

They arrived at the door to the punishment room and Jenny led them through.

“This is Jane, and this is Monica,” Jenny introduced them.

“Can we just do this, please?” Ms Dennison asked impatiently, staring at the stocky woman holding the cane.

“Of course,” Jane replied. “Ladies?” she added, with a nod towards Jenny.

“Stand just at the back of this small chair, please Ms Dennison,” the young Justice Officer ordered, placing a hand gently on the woman’s back.

“Like this?” Ms Dennison asked as she stood behind the chair.

“A couple of inches further forward, please. Yes, that’s fine. Hands behind your back, please.”

Ms Dennison immediately complied, enabling Monica and Jenny to each take one of her arms and prepare to fold them behind her back.

“Now bend right over and get your head down low.”

Again, the woman complied as best she could, and then Monica and Jenny pushed her right over the back of the chair, her arms folded behind her back, so she was firmly held in position.

“Hold still, Ms Dennison,” Jane ordered as she prepared to start applying the cane to the woman’s bottom.

“I can’t do much else! Is my bottom bare?”

“I’ll fold your tunic up higher,” Jenny replied, and pushed the thin cotton material right up the woman’s back.

“It feels like I’m completely naked. I could’ve taken the damn thing off!”

No one replied. Instead, Jane laid the cane gently across Ms Dennison’s buttocks as she aimed the first stroke.

“Ten strokes,” Jane added before immediately tapping the cane several times across the woman’s naked bottom, drawing it well back and whistling down the first stroke. It landed with a loud crack, and Ms Dennison jumped.

“Yeeouch! That smarts!”

“Hold still!” Monica shouted.

Jane delivered another, equally hard, stroke.

“Ooouch! Ye gods!”

Jane continued applying stroke after stroke across the womanly bottom that had been offered to her as a target. Jenny could see the vivid red stripes forming, stripes that reminded her instantly of Laura’s bottom when she helped her lay down on the padded bench.

Jenny could see the woman flinching and jerking as each stroke whipped into her bottom, and for a moment Jenny lost count. A quick check of the stripes confirmed the woman had received eight strokes, leaving just two to go.

“Nearly done,” Jenny offered, thinking it might provide a little comfort.

Jane pulled the cane back and used all her strength to hurl it forward until it whipped Ms Dennison’s buttocks for the penultimate time.

She seemed to take the stroke without any vocal response.

Jane swiftly pulled the cane back for the final stroke. It landed with perhaps the loudest crack of the ten.

“Okay. That’s you done,” Jane announced.

“Thank god for that!” Ms Dennison responded. “That bloody hurt!” She began easing herself off the chair with a little help from Jenny and Monica.

“It had to be done,” Jenny replied, now rather breathless from her exertions at holding the woman down.

“Can we, can we get out of here now?”

“Of course,” Jenny responded. “Can you walk okay?”

“I’ll manage.”

“This way. Let’s get you back to the changing room.”

“Can we just take it slowly? I might need your help getting dressed, young lady.”

“No problem. My name’s Jenny, by the way.”

Jenny walked Ms Dennison slowly back to her changing room where she opened the door and helped the woman to lay face down on the bench.

“There. Take a few minutes to catch your breath.”

“Is my bum a real mess?” Ms Dennison asked.

“It looks pretty bruised and there’s ten weals showing where the cane hit you. There’s no sign of any of the strokes crossing other strokes, though.”

“Oh yippee! Although I suppose that would have been a lot worse, wouldn’t it? I probably should be grateful for that, although how my bum feels right now, well, you’ll have to excuse me for not expressing my thanks too loudly.”

“No problem,” Jenny replied, still looking hard at the damage that had been inflicted on the woman’s bottom.

“Is it permitted to apply a damp cloth to my poor bum?”

“Not really, but I will anyway. There’re some kitchen towels here. I’ll dampen a couple and lay them on your bottom.”

“Thanks.”

Jenny dampened the paper towels under the cold tap and carefully laid them across Ms Dennison’s naked buttocks.

“Aaahh!! That’s cold!”

“Sorry,” said Jenny.

“No, it’s helping.”

Jenny looked at her watch.

“Look, I need to check reception. The next clients should be arriving soon. Take your time, the pain will soon settle down a bit.”

Back in the waiting area, Jenny noted Laura’s mum was still the only occupant.

“What’s happening?” Mrs Hancock asked.

“Laura’s all done, Mrs Hancock. She’s just having a little lie-down. I’ll fetch her for you. Oh, does she have a make-up bag I can take through to her?”

Jenny took a small fabric bag from Mrs Hancock and took it through to Laura. She found the girl in the process of getting dressed.

“Do you need any help, Laura?” Jenny asked as she saw the girl standing unsteadily in just her white bra and panties.

“I think I can manage,” Laura replied as she struggled to pull on her black leggings, cringing when the material stretched around her bottom.

“My bum is so sore,” Laura commented as she slipped her shoes back on.

“Let me take that orange tunic from you,” Jenny said, taking the garment and pushing it into a laundry bin. “Do you want to wash your face in the sink before you put your top back on and do your make-up?”

“Is it a mess?”

Jenny nodded, and got the sink ready for Laura. She helped the teenager remove the last vestiges of the smeared make-up and handed over several paper towels for the girl to dry herself.

“Sit on the edge of the bench, Laura,” Jenny suggested when the girl was ready to re-apply her make-up. “The light’s not too bad in here.”

“That’s certainly not an experience I ever want to repeat,” Laura declared when she was ready to leave.

“I know, but at least it’s over now. Come back to the reception counter and I’ll get your paperwork signed.”

Laura walked slowly but unaided back to the reception area. Her mother stood up as soon as she saw her daughter.

“Are you okay, darling?”

“I’m fine, mum. Don’t fuss.”

Jenny completed Laura’s paperwork and handed over the paper confirming the punishment had been carried out.

“Keep that safe, Laura. Take Laura home, Mrs Hancock. You might have some cold cream you can put on her bum?”

“Yes, I’ll find something.”

“Good. Off you go, Laura. Learn from this experience and let’s not see you back again, eh?”

“You won’t!”

With the waiting area now empty, Jenny returned to Ms Dennison’s changing room. She found the woman still laying face-down on the bench, her bottom totally exposed.

“How are you getting on, Ms Dennison?”

“Sore, hurting like mad. How did you expect?”

“Sorry, but that’s the nature of the punishment, I suppose.”

“You keep using that word, young lady.”

“What? Punishment? Do I? I didn’t realise.”

Ms Dennison looked strangely at the younger woman, and smiled knowingly.

“I expect you quite like your job, don’t you, young lady? Jenny, I think you said your name was.”

“Yes, that’s right, and I suppose I do like my job. We see all sorts here.”

“I think it’s time I got dressed,” Ms Dennison said, still with a slight grin on her face.

She eased herself to her feet, grimacing and screwing her face up in obvious discomfort. Jenny bent down and fed the woman’s pale blue panties onto one foot and then the other before pulling them up the woman’s shapely legs and around her bottom.

“Ouch! My knickers feel extra tight.”/p>

“I expect your bottom has swollen a bit. Things will soon settle down,” Jenny replied sympathetically.

“You were right, I’m going to struggle to drive home.”

“Do you want me to call someone for you?”

“No, I think I’d prefer the discomfort to the humiliation. Unless you’d like to drive me home, Jenny?”

“I couldn’t. I mean, I wouldn’t be allowed.”

Jenny blushed furiously, which caused Ms Dennison to smile again.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, Jenny. “Perhaps I shouldn’t ask what they’d do to you, Jenny, if you broke the rules?”

“What do you mean?”

“We wouldn’t want you getting a smacked bottom, would we?”

The End

© Kenny Walters 2024