by Susan Thomas
Mr Brown looked extremely upset. He took a moment to compose himself; it looked genuine, but in fact this was a common question, and his response rehearsed. The women dreaded the religious police picking on them for some trivial reason. To be bared and thrashed in public was a terrible humiliation.
"No! No sister! All public punishments will be ended. I do not say that all state corporal punishment will end, but any administered will be for real crime. We will be tough on real crime, but there will be an end to all punishment for religious reasons."
The women were delighted and even the men were pleased. No man liked to see his wife, his sister, his daughter or even his mother, bared for all to see, then beaten, and all simply because someone thought her clothing or behaviour immodest. The men also had a selfish reason. Although their punishments were not public they too could be flogged for silly reasons: hair too long, unshaven, clothes too gaudy... there were a hundred trivialities. The braided whip that scourged their backs might not break the skin but it left them very bruised and sore for days on end.
"Now then brothers and sisters, we are going to drink a toast to the to the day of the Yellow Sash. The trays of glasses now coming around have wine. We will rise to our feet and drink a solemn toast."
They were most impressed, but even more so when it turned out the wine was real French wine, not blackberry or rhubarb. Real French wine was terribly expensive. The religious police did not approve of wine; they preferred the population to drink ale, if they must, but home made fruit wines and liquors were common. So far wine had not been banned. The fact that Mr Brown was using expensive French wine told them two things: one was that this was really the time to overthrow the Theocracy; the other was that their movement was well funded. That made them feel proud and important. It was precisely the effect Mr Brown had intended to create.
The rose to their feet as one and in a solemn toast they cried out together, "To the day of the Yellow Sash."
---oOo---
Rachel, Lizzie's daughter, made me a lovely wedding dress. Oh it wasn't silk or anything. That was a material way too expensive. It was cotton, that was expensive enough, for most people wore linen. It was, however, very attractive and I loved it. Bill paid for it. We weren't married in the small local chapel, which was just an outreach mission, but in the proper church in town.
The Reverend Philips conducted the service. He had a strange, dry but flowery, way of speaking. It's such an odd combination I was intrigued by it. I had a feeling in my world he would be an academic. My vows included the solemn promise to obey my husband. That was not an optional part of them and I knew it was no mere form of words. A wife had to obey her husband unless he gave her an 'ungodly' command. I now knew what the penalty was for disobedience. On the way out of the church people threw coloured grains (wheat, oats, rye, barley); it was their version of confetti, which in turn, harked back to an earlier custom of throwing grain as a symbol of fertility. In effect they were hoping we would have many children. I'd expected to be Simon's bride, but never thought to be a blushing bride, but that did make me blush.
The Friendly Dragon Inn laid on a good spread. Oh, it wasn't all champagne and caviar as it would have been had I married Simon. My dad had laid down vintage champagnes for my wedding. I wondered what would happen to those now I was dead in my world. There were game pies, home cooked hams, smoked goat, goat pate, beautiful freshly baked breads, local pickles, lovely desserts made from bottled fruits and goat's yoghurt. The wine was a rich dry elderberry. I was surprised by how pleasant it was, and by how very tasty all the food, which had real flavour and was nicely presented. I had very little to do except smile, blush and thank well-wishers.
There was dancing but it was a variant of what, at school, we had called 'country dancing' all performed to the accompaniment of a band playing a motley collection of instruments. I thoroughly enjoyed it all. After the dancing we had more wine poured and then Bill and I had to sit down and receive presents. The presents were mainly home made and included a great many bottled fruits and jams. I guessed this was to help me as a new wife. Master Cartwright 'honoured' us with his presence. He came up and presented us with a small but beautifully made wooden box. Inside was a craftsman made hairbrush with a sturdy wooden back. The inference was quite clear and I blushed furiously. Fortunately, I had the good sense not to tell the pompous idiot what I thought of him.
After that we had another dance and then suddenly a gang of women seized me and dragged me upstairs to our bedroom. They were giggling, laughing and making crude jokes. Rachel, the young woman who had made my dress, whispered to me to relax. This was the custom and I wouldn't be hurt. I was stripped naked by them and put into a short nightdress (a rather pretty one) then they made sure I stayed in bed. I heard sounds in the corridor and Rachel told me that the men were doing much the same thing to Bill. Then Bill was hustled in by the men. He was wearing what looked to my eyes like a Victorian men's nightshirt. They put him into bed next to me, and for one horrid moment I thought they were going to remain while we consummated our marriage. However, they all left calling out crude comments and jokes.
Bill hastened to assure me that no one would come in; three couples would guard the door while we... Now I am going to use the word they used, 'plugged'. I expect you can work out the origin of plugging and plugged. I have to be honest, at first, I felt quite inhibited by this sort of public awareness. Bill didn't seem fazed. He was quite honestly amorous. I guess a thirteen-year abstinence had made him more than a little randy. I understood completely and tried hard to blot out the witnesses outside the door.
Well Bill 'plugged' me alright. He 'plugged' me with all his might, and the huge wooden frame of the bed smashed against the wall but he plugged without stopping. I became aware that down below, in the reception, the drummer and the man on the cymbals were smashing to his rhythm; every time he drove the frame against the wall they crashed on the cymbal and banged on the drum while the guests shouted, "Yes!" Their noise drove into my head and when I came, and boy did I come, I screamed out "Yes!" There was a huge cheer from down below and just then Bill came. He too had been infected and he too shouted "Yes!" and a great cheer erupted from the reception below.
He plugged me again, but more quietly, and there was no accompaniment from below. After that we drifted off to sleep for a while. When we awoke it was quiet below but Bill was amorous again and 'plugged' me for a third time. I had never made love three times in an evening before and I loved it. In fact, I loved everything about my wedding. Sure enough it was rustic, amateurish and had none of the luxury that I would have had if I had married Simon, but I would not have changed one bit of it. I loved it all, even being 'plugged' while down below people cheered and stamped to the rhythm.
The next morning, I felt as if Bill was still inside me as we went down for breakfast. Those that had stayed overnight (some looking like they had stayed up all night) applauded us as we came in and I blushed again. It didn't matter, for in their world brides were supposed to behave like that. I ate a breakfast that I would never have considered in my old world and gazed across at my new husband. I hadn't known him a month as yet but I loved him. It was all utterly outside my experience. I had to be submissive and a good dutiful wife, accept any spanking he gave me and concern myself with my home and husband. I accepted all that. I have always been pragmatic. I couldn't go back, for I was dead back there, so I had best make the most of what I did have and what I had was actually very good. I wondered, if I ever had the opportunity, whether I would go back. I was not to know I would get to make that choice.
Chapter 6
When we returned to the farm it was, for me, to a new status, that of William Cole's wife. It was an odd feeling. I had always had a certain status for myself. At school I was Sarah Watson the golden girl, then, of course, I became Sarah Watson high flyer and destined for great things. Now I was Sarah Cole, wife of prominent farmer, William Cole. As a wife I was of course subject to Bill's discipline and eve
ryone would know that. That sounds negative, but on the plus side, I had fallen headlong in love with this strong, kind, sensible man and I knew he was passionate about me. No use crying over what might have been, I had to make the best of what I had, and what I had was very good.
My first task was to learn to be a good farmer's wife. Cooking on the range was a huge challenge and led to several sessions over Bill's knees having my poor bottom turned to fire. Learning how to preserve fruit and vegetables was put off until the summer but the rhythms of farm life all had to be learned. I found I absolutely loved the goats; they are no different to humans in each having their own character. I soon found some are cantankerous, some affectionate, some shy, and I swiftly had favourites. Annie was a real favourite; she was most affectionate and demanded fussing and treats from me every time I came near her.
I also asked Bill's permission to sort out his accounting. He seemed surprised, but agreed: soon I had his affairs in order, although I longed for my laptop, as everything had to be done manually and with a fountain pen. I also suggested (a woman could only suggest) that we could reduce his costs. All purchasing of supplies was done by the farmers individually. I suggested that if they formed a co-operative they could purchase goods in bulk and reduce costs. That's how they sold much of their milk. Local farmers agreed very quickly and I set it up for Bill although, naturally, he had to front it all.
It was only a couple of weeks after our marriage I saw my first public punishment. Men and women could both receive a sentence of corporal punishment for both religious and secular offences. The men got whipped on their back with a sort of leather quirt. Apparently, it wouldn't usually cut the skin, but it left awful bruises, and was very painful. Bill had never witnessed one and not experienced it for himself. However, he had friends who'd been whipped and seen their backs. He said it made him shudder and feel sick. Imagine being whipped like that because you grew a moustache. No, I'm not kidding; men must be clean shaven and the religious police could sentence you to a whipping for growing one. Men though, did not get public punishments, women did.
I found that out when Bill was invited as a 'guest of honour' to a public punishment at the community centre in town. Ruth Chandler and Gladys Dover were to be flogged... well they called it a spanking but to me it was a flogging. I'd met Ruth and she was a pleasant woman but a bit dippy. Apparently, she'd made a few changes to her dresses which the religious police had deemed immoral.
They were flogged on the bare bottom with a nasty strap and it really horrified me... and all the other women present. To be fair it was only twelve, and afterwards there was a big emphasis on forgiveness, but forgiveness in Ruth's case was ridiculous. Her clothes were still modest, just not within the rules. Rules, I remembered, that had been made by men. Why is that men feel they have the right to make rules for women? Gladys Dover was a thief, so I had much less sympathy for her, and could just about accept the corporal punishment. In a society like this one alternatives were difficult so a quick, cheap, unpleasant, spanking or flogging seemed like the only solution. However, why did it have to be in public? If they took her off into a private place, like the men, it would still be effective, and everyone would still know.
Although I hated the public punishment, had no desire ever to see another, and feared ever getting one myself. I loved the farm and the surrounding country. I loved the sound of the wind in the trees. No leaves until spring of course, but the flattening silence of heavy snow disappeared when it melted away, and the trees in the wind sounded like the sea. I'd walk out with Bill while he checked his hydro-generators and found the water rushing down the streams so beautiful I could just stand and stare. If there had been heavy rain the streams turned to torrents fed by the higher ground.
It was in this short period, for I work quickly, that Bill announced that his sister and brother in law were coming to stay. They wanted to meet me of course but, more importantly, I had to be registered as a transferee. Bill's brother in law, Steven Clitheroe, was head of the Alternate Worlds Unit and it was an honour that he would register me himself. It was this visit that earned me an unpleasant session having my bottom 'leathered' (the local name for a spanking with a belt).
Steven turned out to be plump and pompous with a very high opinion of himself. Mary, Bill's sister, was a pleasant, attractive lady who seemed to love her husband although for the life of me I couldn't see much lovable about him. Registering turned out to be an extremely detailed taking of my personal history plus a 'million' questions about the world I'd come from. I got bored and irritated by it. I didn't want to look back but only forward and Steven's manner grated on me. I'll admit I was rude to him but his male arrogance really got to me. I expect that means I had only, as yet, changed on the surface and wasn't a real Earth Zero woman just yet.
"Bill, I regret to inform you that your new wife has yet to learn that respect which is essential for life in our society. I trust you have a good remedy for her."
I knew I was in deep trouble and wisely kept my mouth shut at this point.
"I apologise, Steven; Sarah has much to learn yet but I will deal firmly with her."
Steven was pompously gracious, and then studied his manuals, matching my details with the details of the alternate earths they knew about. Finally, he looked up with satisfaction. "I've found you, it's tricky because there are two earth versions that are extremely similar. In fact, we haven't yet found out quite where they diverge. We're under resourced of course, which doesn't help, but I have found you. You are from Earth Nine. When I get back I'll get someone to check out whether you are still alive on Earth Eight."
I didn't feel that it mattered a jot to me and his presence had simply earned me a sore bum. I wasn't to know just what would come out of that knowledge. At that time all I could think was, "Oh no!" Bill could be lenient about my slips in attitude. Partly that was because he loved me but also because it was in our own home and no one else knew. If I slipped he'd just spank me and not take a belt to me. However, Steven would expect that I'd get exactly what Mary would get if she was so rude and that was the belt. Not that Mary would be so rude of course. She was a well brought up Earth Zero woman.
When Steven had finished speaking Bill spoke quietly, but very firmly. "Sarah, go to my office right now."
To be honest I was ashamed. Not of being rude to a pompous ass like Steven but of embarrassing Bill. Steven was his brother in law, and a guest, so it really wasn't right of me to be rude to the idiot. I know I can be quite abrasive at times and I had to curb it in this world. Perhaps I deserved a punishment but I didn't relish it at all. However, I went white when I saw Bill removing the belt from his waist band. Oh, don't think lightweight fashion belts in beautiful Italian leather. Think thick, heavy, working man's belt with a heavy duty buckle and double stitching.
I begged unashamedly. "Please Bill, don't use your belt. Just use your hand." Oh, I begged much more than that and I started to cry. Fresh in my mind was the strapping given to Ruth and Gladys. Bill's belt wasn't as heavy or nasty as that strap but it would be much like that. I dreaded being punished with the belt.
"Sarah, I hate chastising you but it is important that you learn to curb your tongue. If you spoke like that in public it would end in a public punishment. You've seen what they are like and I'm certain you don't want that. I may have been too lenient with you but if I don't punish you properly this time Steven may complain to the religious police. If he were to do that you'd get a nasty public punishment and I'd get a black mark against my name."
I was shaking, partly at the prospect of getting what he called a 'leathering' but also the prospect of it escalating to a public punishment. The thought of Master Cartwright, and all those men, watching my bare bottom being thrashed was horrible.
I was wearing a heavy skirt and a pair of warm wool stockings not the silk stockings which were for special occasions. Does that sound frumpy? Yeah, well you try living in a house with no central heating, when it is freezing cold, and you make
frequent trips outside. Clothing was thick and heavy for good reason. I had to remove skirt, knickers, garter belt and stockings and stand before Bill.
I stood, my head down in a submissive way, while he lectured me in patient tones about how women must behave. It was hard to accept it. It was so contrary to my upbringing but that was how Earth Zero women were brought up, or at least in this country they were; Bill said the word was that in some places women were treated very badly. Finally, he finished his lecture. "Now Ruth, you are to bend over this chair and hold on tightly. I shall give you twenty but if you start jumping up or anything I may have to increase that. Please don't make me give you more."
I bent over with small tears already leaking from my eyes. I was scared and I am not going to pretend anything else. I sensed the belt whipping through the air and heard an almighty sound in the small room and then the pain hit. It was terrible and I shot to my feet with a scream, my hands scrabbling at my bottom. I craned my head around to look. There was the imprint of the belt clearly to be seen across my soft skin. Bill looked at me reprovingly and I bent slowly over again holding onto the seat of the chair once more.
Well, I hung on to that chair as if it was a life raft in a storm as Bill whipped seven more strokes down on my poor defenceless bottom. Each one hurt terribly and even the thought that I deserved it didn't comfort me. I found it so hard to take and I have no idea how much noise I made. The eighth one seemed to hit the painful welts made by the first seven, and I shot once again to my feet screaming, "I can't take any more. I can't, I can't!"
Bill put his arm around me and kissed me. "Yes you can Sarah and you must. This is the world we live in whether we like it or not. You have to learn to guard your reactions. Pompous idiots like Steven abound and they will patronise you. You mustn't show it. Learn that lesson from my belt... please."
