Corrective Measures

by Sarah Veitch

  CORRECTIVE MEASURES

  by

  SARAH VEITCH

  Corrective Measures first published in 2001 by Palmprint Publications. Published as an eBook in 2011 by Chimera eBooks.

  ePub ISBN 9781907976377

  mobi ISBN 9781907976940

  www.chimerabooks.co.uk

  Chimera (ki-mir'a, ki-) a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy.

  New authors are always welcome, or if you're already a published author and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to hear from you.

  This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex.

  This work is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The author asserts that all characters depicted in this work of fiction are eighteen years of age or older, and that all characters and situations are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright Sarah Veitch. The right of Sarah Veitch to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Author's Introduction

  These stings-in-the-tale mainly demonstrate men correcting suitably deserving women. A few involve authoritative females correcting other females - and there are a couple where it's a man who cringingly accepts the protracted shame and pain.

  Each story involves adult corporal punishment which the miscreant reluctantly consents to. I will always speak out against adults correcting children or criminal/domestic violence.

  The settings vary from Victorian England where an irresponsible young governess is taught the error of her ways by the frustrated Mistress Of The House, to a modern charity auction where a diffident young female is fully harnessed as a pony girl.

  The mini-novella Re-educating Ruth is set in Amsterdam, in a rigorous House Of Correction for adulterous women. Ruth leaves England to live there at her husband's insistence as it's the only way she can compensate for her various acts of infidelity.

  Ruth is originally convinced that she can win over the Dutch Correction House workers with her sexuality. But she soon finds that they're immune to her charms and are merciless each time she fails one of their many tests. Soon she and the other infidel beauties are pleading for forgiveness as they buck under the lash...

  Contents

  Re-educating Ruth

  It Could Be You

  Pretty In Pink

  Bottom Of The Class

  Saddle Sore

  From Russia With The Lash

  A Taste Of Her Own Medicine

  Girls On Film

  Rump Stake

  Wet, Wet, Wet

  Cheryl's Game

  Three Colours Red

  Work Experience

  A Pony Tale

  The Tutorial

  The Bottom Drawer

  Raising Awareness

  Motion Pictures

  The Hired Hand

  Playing The Game

  Sitting Uncomfortably

  Re-educating Ruth

  Ruth let herself into the house, her pubis still tingling from the afternoon's adultery. Male voices coming from the lounge suggested that her husband, Franklin, and a colleague were already there. 'Only me,' she called breathlessly.

  As she hung up her jacket, Franklin appeared in the hall. He wasn't smiling. 'Ruth - there's a gentleman here to see you,' he said. He turned and went swiftly back into the shadowy chamber. Her arms starting to prickle with uncertainty, the twenty-two year old followed him in.

  A dark-suited male stranger sat at one end of the elongated black leather settee. He was sipping from a glass of amber liquid. 'Sit down,' the stranger said. Ruth blushed, but stood mutinously before him. How dare he tell her what to do in her own house? She looked at Franklin for support, but his eyes were blank with an unusual indifference or held-back rage.

  'Am I to assume that our guest will be staying to dinner?' she asked, shifting her weight from one high suede shoe to the other; she didn't usually encounter coldness like this. Men usually looked at her long straight black hair, wide brown eyes and ready-to-laugh full mouth and started smiling. And they lit up some more when they gazed upon her thirty-six inch breasts and incongruously slender waist. Rightly or wrongly, people were usually nicer to you if you were pretty. So why were this stranger and her spouse being so hateful now?

  'Is the gentleman here for dinner?' she repeated, fluttering her right hand in the direction of the impassive tall male newcomer. Franklin gazed at her insolently for a few seconds more. 'Karel Kromhout is here to give you a really sound spanking,' he said, smirking as a deep blush suffused her facial contours, 'but first we've a video for you to see.'

  Mr Kromhout pressed the play button and the video recorder whirred into life. To be specific, it whirred into showing her sex life. Ruth licked her suddenly sand-dry lips as the familiar rented room filled the screen. Damn, there was her lover, Stephen, sitting on the bed, sipping a martini. She watched as a recorded version of herself sashayed through the door and kissed his neck.

  Their strange guest pressed the pause button, then he patted his lap.

  'Karel Kromhout works in a House of Correction for adulterous women in Amsterdam,' Franklin explained. 'He gets especially annoyed with disobedient flesh that keep him waiting.' He jerked a thumb towards the door which led to an already-darkening October night. 'But if you'd rather leave our home forever, Ruth, then you're free to walk away.'

  Walk would be the figurative word, Ruth thought, staring from one impassive male face to the next. Franklin would keep the car, the house, the very clothes she stood in. She only earned a few pounds for working in a florists two mornings a week. The twenty-two year old envisaged a Franklin-free life; she'd have to go to one of those hostels for the homeless. Surely a spanking from this Dutchman was better than living on the streets?

  'Alright, you win,' she said, striving for indifference. Nevertheless, she cringed inside as she approached Karel Kromhout's knees. The prospect of prostrating herself over them was prodigiously shameful. Especially with her husband watching, a man who had previously treated her with respect.

  'I didn't plan to be unfaithful,' she whispered.

  'Over,' Karel Kromhout said.

  Ruth stood stock still. 'It was meaningless.'

  'Get over my knee now or leave your husband's house.'

  Whimpering, the young woman bent at the waist and lowered herself until her entire body was supported by the settee, save for her tummy which settled in the stranger's lap with the utmost reluctance. 'I was flattered by Stephen's advances,' she mumbled in a last plea for clemency. 'I just got carried away.'

  'Just as I'm about to carry away your panties now,' Karel Kromhout said.

  Ruth shivered throughout her slender frame as she felt his hands pushing up her black pencil skirt and rolling it over her waist to reveal her black stockings. She felt her toes curling of their own volition as he removed her high heeled shoes.

  'At a later date I may order you to keep these on,' he said, letting the footwear fall to the floor. 'A girl tottering about on stilettoes with a very red bum can be exceptionally appealing.'

  What the hell did he mean by the phrase 'at a later date', Ruth asked herself. 'I've only agreed to a spanking,' she said quickly, lest he be planning to make her parade around the house wearing only her pretty patent shoes.

  'We'll see just what you're willing to agree to once we've had a serious chat about div
orce lawyers,' Franklin said.

  The twenty-two year old breathed shallowly but fast as she felt the Dutchman's fingers tracing the tops of her lace-topped stockings. She whimpered as he unclipped them, then rolled them down her sunlamp-goldened legs.

  'Can't I keep some of my clothing on?' she muttered raggedly.

  'Yes, your upper clothes for they nicely accentuate the globes that I'm going to be thrashing,' Karel Kromhout said.

  Ruth closed her eyes and her lipsticked mouth. She'd say no more for now. Her words only seemed to be exacerbating the situation. My God, she was stretched over some Correction House worker's lap wearing only a pristine white T-shirt and a pair of cream silk pants.

  And it felt as if those same pants were about to come down. Ruth tensed her thighs as she felt her chastiser's fingers brush the waistband of her briefs. 'Nice,' he said. 'But I like a bare bum even better. I can watch its colour deepening as I spank.'

  'Can't you use your imagination?' Ruth snapped. She knew that she wasn't being wise, but she just couldn't help herself - this was so demeaning. She had to show this chauvinist that she could give as good as she got.

  'Oh but I'm very imaginative,' the man said, and his English was controlled and perfect. 'When I have a disobedient girl tied down on a punishment stool I am very ingenious indeed.'

  The twenty-two year old wriggled about as the stranger dragged her panties over her orbs. The change of air currents told her that her bottom was now completely naked. All she had on to protect herself from his scrutinising gaze was her T-shirt under which she wore a half-cup silk bra.

  Karel Kromhout lifted his right hand. Ruth tensed her bottom muscles and inner thighs. The video switched itself off as it always did after the pause command had been held for five minutes, and the TV screen went blank.

  'No matter,' said her tormentor, 'I'll give you a warm-up spanking, then we'll have ourselves a little X-rated viewing, then I'll tan your adulterous hide some more.'

  'I wish...' Ruth tried to find the words that would begin to put this situation right. 'Franklin, I love you, and I'm really sorry,' she said, hoping that her husband was still in the room and was feeling merciful.

  'Maybe some Amsterdam-style correction will show you what contrition really means,' came her husband's flat hard tone.

  The settee ran the width of the room, and she was facing away from him. She couldn't tell if he was a few inches from her exposed bum, or quite a few feet away.

  'I'm scared,' she muttered, putting her hands back to cover her exposed extremities.

  'Mr Byrne, she's trying to protect herself. You'll have to tie her hands in front of her,' the Dutch Correction House worker said.

  The settee creaked. Her husband's shadow fell across her - then he knelt so that his face was close, their gazes parallel. 'Stretch your hands out, Ruth,' he said.

  Ruth did as she was told. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Franklin further. Maybe if she took her spanking without complaint he'd let her keep on being his wife. She watched as he took off his silk tie and wound it around her wrists several times before knotting it. Now she could no longer protect her sentient cheeks.

  Ruth felt Karel Kromhout pull back one of his arms, and knew that her chastisement was beginning. She flexed her buttock muscles, then flattened her tummy against his lap as sensation exploded across one defenceless sphere. 'Aah...' she started to gasp out, but the sound was cut short by another echoing imprint. Ruth kicked her bare feet against the leather of the settee and yelled.

  But the bastard seemed imperious to her wails. She felt his large palm crashing down upon the centre of first one disarmed sore cheek and then the other. His thick fingers toasted the sides of her twitching arse.

  'Ow. It really hurts. Not so hard,' Ruth muttered over the spectacular slapping sounds.

  'Just like you hurt me by being unfaithful,' Franklin's cold voice said. For a moment she'd almost forgotten his existence - all she could think about was the strong heat in her soft bare bottom. But now, as the Dutchman spanked on, she tried to appeal to her loving spouse.

  'Franklin - I'm sorry,' she gasped, the slaps raging down on her backside making coherent thought difficult. 'Never be unfaithful to you again.'

  'You won't after I've finished re-educating you,' her chastiser said. Her husband said nothing. Ruth writhed as the Correction House worker spanked her full force. His palm lashed on and on whilst she squirmed and whimpered. He spanked her till her small buttocks felt like baking coals.

  'I'll say and do anything,' Ruth gasped piteously. 'Please, sir - I'm so sorry.' To her relief, her tormentor stopped.

  'Let's make this naughty girl watch an even naughtier video,' he said, carefully turning her head to one side, then patting it gently. Ruth focused with difficulty on the TV screen as he aimed the video control at the underlying machine. Immediately a recorded version of herself and Stephen, her lover, came into view.

  'Late as usual,' Stephen teased on the video tape. 'You'll have to be tied up to make atonement.'

  Ruth watched as he tied her totally naked form spread-eagled-style to the hotel's four poster bed.

  'How often did you screw him, Ruth?' Franklin asked.

  Ruth wished that her husband was sitting near her head rather than near her bum which was still hellishly exposed for future punishment. If only she could make eye contact, could make the cute faces that usually meant that he forgave her anything. But, tied and positioned as she was over the stranger's lap, she could only entreat her angry spouse with her voice tone and her words.

  'Just the once, darling,' she murmured, for in the video she was wearing the pencil skirt and jacket that she'd worn today, so figured that her spouse had only proof of her latest act of adultery.

  'Start spanking her again,' Franklin said.

  'But I swear,' Ruth started. 'You can see that I'm wearing this skirt and jacket, and...'

  'I had that tape made up three months ago,' her husband said.

  Damn! She'd met Stephen six times in all, once a month for the past six months on the day that Franklin had his headhunting trips. She might well have worn her most flattering outfit more than once.

  'Three times then?' she amended, but it came out like more of a query than a statement. She shivered as her tormentor switched off the recorded tape and raised his right hand again.

  At the first buttock slap, new warmth spread over painfully-established heat. Ruth drove her belly and pubis forward, then had nowhere else to go but reluctantly backwards. She bucked like that for several minutes as the muscular man continued to conquer her denuded cheeks. 'Oh please have mercy, sir,' she whispered as the spanking continued. 'Please, please, please!'

  'On future occasions when I sense real regret in your voice and actions I'll stop punishing you, but today your correction isn't negotiable,' Karel Kromhout said.

  'If I had my way right now she'd be corrected with more than your palm,' Franklin cut in.

  'Your wish is our command, sir. She'll squirm under the whip, cane and tawse during the next few months,' the Amsterdam Correction House worker explained.

  Was he really going to whip her? Ruth lay heavily across her tormentor's knee and felt extremely contrite about cheating on her spouse.

  'Now where were we?' Karel Kromhout enquired.

  I was wishing you'd go to hell, Ruth thought. Aloud she said, 'I was... apologising very sincerely for all the wrongs I've done, sir, and promising never to repeat them again.'

  'You won't repeat them after six months in the House of Correction,' her dominator murmured, raising his hand.

  'You can't make me go. That's kidnap,' Ruth blurted out, tugging with new levels of trepidation at her silken wrist bonds.

  'Oh, you'll only be coming to my Amsterdam discipline centre if you ask very nicely,' the older man countered, hoisting her small red cheeks higher upon his lap.

  'Forget it,' Ruth spat out. 'I'm happy here in England. I never want to...' But she didn't get the chance to say that she neve
r wanted to live abroad, for the Dutchman started spanking her helpless hemispheres again.

  At last he stopped and turned the video on. Ruth watched dazedly as she was fucked by her lover who'd left her tied to the four poster. Stephen so loved his bondage. He'd tied or cuffed her wrists and ankles on all six occasions they'd met.

  'Stephen, do you do this with your wife?' she'd murmured, knowing from the especially-swollen rod between his legs that he didn't.

  'No, she's strictly into missionary with the lights out,' he'd said.

  'So, you like being tied up do you, Ruth, my dear?' the Dutchman asked now, as he caressed her soft curved flesh.

  'Not really, I...' That was true. The tying up bit had scared and unnerved her. But she'd liked letting Stephen take control.

  'Why let him bind you, then?' Franklin asked. His voice was heavy with hurt and a simmering anger. Ruth wished that she hadn't bruised his heart and his ego. She'd only wanted one wild day a month with her lover, and had been sure that she'd never be found out.

  'He... it was just different,' she answered lamely.

  'Appealed to her latent masochism,' the spanker amended, kneading her blazing globes.

  What was he, a disciplinarian or a shrink? Ruth forced back the retort. Her husband was talking again. She wondered if her spanking was over at last.

  'Has being touched by you got her all sexed up, Mr Kromhout?' Franklin asked.

  Ruth sensed from the movement around her that Karel Kromhout had shrugged slightly. 'She's your wife, so if you'd rather check for proof yourself, sir?' he said.

  'No, she obviously enjoys being fingered by strangers,' Franklin murmured. 'So be my guest.'

  Suddenly the most delicate of touches butterflied its way across her sensitive clit. Groaning with desire, Ruth pushed her pubis blindly towards the pleasure-source, craving for it to be repeated. Instead she felt a finger trace around the rim of her sexual space.