by Sarah Veitch
The next day Ruth showered and dressed then walked shyly to the breakfast room and helped herself to thin brown bread and thick yellow cheese slices. As she ate, she reread the timetable she'd been given for the ensuing week. At 10am today she'd to attend Room Five for a seminar on Couples And Trust then was to have one-to-one instruction with a Master for the remainder of the day.
The English girl reached the appropriate Seminar Room and listened for a while. Animated voices came from within it. At 10am Ruth knocked and a male voice called 'Come in.' Ruth obeyed the command and was pleased to see that Justus Lederwaren was leading the discussion. He seemed genuinely nice when he wasn't handing Karel Kromhout the whip. Five females, two of whom she recognised, sat curled in five overstuffed armchairs around him. There was a spare armchair to one side and Ruth quickly claimed it as her own.
'Trust is the quality which allows a couple to separate without anxiety for various lengths of time,' Justus was saying. 'It means they can have various freedoms. That's why the fabric of a relationship splits when that trust is betrayed.'
'Ergo you shouldn't get caught.' The speaker, a girl with auburn curls, laughed loudly.
Justus smiled back mirthlessly. 'Amber has only been here for a week,' he said to Ruth. 'She has your droll Scottish sense of humour.'
'I'm English,' Ruth said belligerently. 'It's not the same.'
'It's the same in that you both have small rumps that will redden beautifully under my tawse,' the trainee Master said. 'And you'll both beg for mercy.'
'Want to bet?' Ruth mumbled under her breath. She felt the humiliated heat rush from her nipples to her pubes. She played with the top fastening of her white silk blouse and moved her legs into a crossed position. When she finally looked at Amber she could see the other girl had also blushed hard.
'As you're both newcomers,' Justus Lederwaren continued, 'I'll overlook your rudeness this once in order to continue the discussion. Now let's get back to the topic in hand.'
For the next forty five minutes Justus asked questions and made observations. He turned to Ruth at the seminar's end. 'Franklin mentioned you hadn't been to Amsterdam before, so would you like to see the city now? Think of it as your first one-to-one counselling hour.'
Hardly able to believe her luck, Ruth said yes. They went sightseeing. They shopped. They ate at an Indonesian restaurant. Ruth could see admiration in his hazel eyes.
After lunch he walked her to the Red Light District, beginning to give her rules as they approached. 'You'll see half-dressed prostitutes in the windows, but show respect and don't stare at them too blatantly.'
'Why would I? I'm heterosexual,' Ruth replied.
'Oh, and don't take photographs in the area or someone will smash your camera,' the man continued.
'I don't even own such a thing,' Ruth lied, her compact camera mere inches away in her bulging shoulder bag.
A dark-skinned female of around twenty-five sat behind a large rectangular pane of polished glass. She wore a luminous white bikini, the incandescent material squeezing her Galia melon-sized breasts and pulling tautly across her hips. Three youths and a couple passed by, walking slowly. The dusky girl smiled at no one in particular with lips stained red.
They moved on to the second window. This girl was smaller and paler, looked more like Ruth herself. She was dressed in a fishnet body stocking which showed off her slender waist and oval buttocks. She tossed her hair back over her shoulders as Justus walked by.
'How much do they charge?' Ruth asked, intrigued.
The Correction House worker shrugged. 'Depends what the customer is looking for.' He grinned at her. 'They're straight here, though, so don't start having any dyke fantasies or hoping for three in a bed.'
'I've never had a lesbian fantasy,' Ruth replied indignantly. It was true. She'd never understood how one woman could finger and fondle another. It was such a forbidden and unlikely love.
'I'm sure we'll find out what really turns you on in due course,' the Dutchman said.
Ruth shrugged, her attention drawn to two near-naked women in the next window. Maybe she could take girly photos here and sell them to a newspaper for a fee? It would be great to feel that she was capable of earning serious money, and it would mean she wouldn't be destitute if her marriage failed.
'Watch the only clean show in a dirty business,' one of the sex club managers called from an open door. Justus stopped to talk to him. Ruth surreptitiously worked her camera up to the top of her shoulder bag then transferred it to the inside of her jacket which she swiftly buttoned up. With the lens peaking from between her buttons, she took her first shot.
Justus said goodbye to the man, and they crossed the street. Ruth snapped a tall blonde pouting girl in a champagne silk body stocking. She photographed another who was wearing a black basque and matching thigh length boots.
'I know of your camera,' Justus Lederwaren said matter-of-factly. 'So you might as well stop breaking the rules this minute. Your bum will get a roasting when I find a suitable place.'
'You mean back at the House?' Ruth muttered, looking around to make sure that no one had heard him.
'No, here in the Red Light District,' the trainee Master replied.
'But there are people around and...' The English girl trembled at the thought of having her bum bared in public.
'You should have thought of that before you ignored my orders,' the Dutchman countered. 'That rebellious little arse won't wait.'
They reached a sex shop and he marched her in. 'Can I rent a booth?' he asked loudly. 'Yes, one for couples.'
'Choose your video,' the man behind the counter said mildly, indicating the tape-crammed shelves.
Justus shrugged. 'Oh any video with a naked girl being whipped will do nicely. It'll mirror the thrashing I'm about to mete out.'
The shopkeeper stared at Ruth with new interest, and she felt the colour rush to her miserable face. 'Justus, please don't,' she whispered, looking up at him and widening her eyes in a sweetly pleading gesture.
'When I give you a simple order and you defy it you have to be thoroughly rehabilitated,' the man replied.
'Then spank me in the Punishment Chamber, not here,' Ruth begged in her quietest voice as Justus marched her towards a curtained doorway.
'You disobeyed a trainee Master. I'm going to do more than spank you,' Justus replied. To Ruth's shame he stopped by one of the flagellation-magazine racks and began to unbuckle his belt. A couple who were in the process of selecting a video turned and stared at Ruth with open-mouthed curiosity. The man in particular seemed to be assessing Ruth's chinos-clad bum.
'Alright, I deserve to be chastised. Let's go inside the booth,' Ruth muttered with genuine urgency. She'd die of shame if he bared her bottom out here in the middle of the shop.
The booth was painted cream. The puckering hemispheres on the screen were a hard-caned red. Ruth suspected that her own facial cheeks were equally hectic. She looked up at the squealing correction which was taking place on the video, then looked down at the long wooden seat which ran along one wall.
'Strip,' Justus said.
Maybe she could turn this into a more mutual seduction scene. Ruth gathered her mental resources. 'Wouldn't you rather undress me?' she whispered, sidling up to him and pulling his hands onto her breasts.
'Strip now or I'll double my belt before I use it on you,' Justus Lederwaren replied coolly. 'And make each stroke twice as hard.'
He was only a trainee Master, Ruth thought, so he probably wouldn't give her too stringent a chastisement. Then she remembered with a low pull of dread that the merciless Karel Kromhout was ostensibly a trainee Master too.
Ruth put her fingers to her trouser buttons then hesitated, overwhelmed by uncertainty. The Dutchman took the buckle of his belt and began to bring it warningly towards the other end.
'Please don't double it. I'm stripping,' Ruth said. She pushed the metal button through the hole, then tugged her zip down with trembling fingers. Justus Lederwaren's impassiv
e gaze remained fixed on her face. The English girl manoeuvred her feet out of her shoes, then pulled her socks off. Her chinos fastenings flapped back, but the garment stayed clinging to her hips.
'Remove those trousers this instant,' the Correction House worker said.
'Been a while for you, has it?' Ruth muttered sarcastically. She knew that it hadn't; he'd watched Geri and Ryka being whipped.
Justus leaned against the wall, the thick belt trailing from his right hand. Ruth looked at it then awkwardly pulled down her beloved white trousers. She removed them completely, then stood there gazing over at the man and trying to look as if she didn't care.
'Pull down your pants.'
Ruth licked her lips, but knew that arguing was useless. If she refused to obey him he'd probably parade her, half naked, through the outlying shop. 'Pants coming down,' she replied, trying to add a jokey flavour to the conversation. But her Master just stared at her and didn't laugh.
The thin grey carpet wasn't a feast for the eyes or the imagination, but Ruth stared fixedly at it as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her panties. She continued to gaze downwards as she pulled off her butterfly-motif briefs. Now only her white blouse remained on her body, covering her upper arse cheeks and half of her pubic hair.
'Tie your blouse up high around your waist,' her tormentor continued. 'We don't want it flapping down to cover your small soft bottom.'
'Speak for yourself,' Ruth muttered, then she saw the look in his face and hastened to do as she was bid.
When the twenty-two year old had finished knotting the upper garment in place she felt horribly vulnerable. Especially when Justus Lederwaren ordered her to face the wall. She did so, and sensed that he was assessing her newly-bared bum and naked thigh backs. Any second now...
'Sit on the bench beneath that coat hook,' the Dutchman said. Surprised, Ruth looked around at him and Justus jerked his head in the appropriate direction. Maybe he wasn't going to chastise her after all. Ruth felt an odd deep pull in her stomach, part relief, part disappointment. A tiny fraction of her psyche had wanted to know how a belt-based punishment felt.
The twenty-two year old smiled at the trainee Master, then walked to the bench which ran along one entire wall of the video booth. She sat down gingerly, knowing that the plastic would feel cool against her bare bottom. She folded her hands in front of her so that they covered her pubes.
'Now swing your legs up and back,' her hazel-eyed trainer continued. Ruth looked at him blankly. Justus sighed. 'Like this.' He hunkered down and took hold of her ankles then brought them slowly up and over her head, holding them in situ. Her twitching nether cheeks were now totally exposed. 'Let's bind these naughty legs out of the way,' Justus Lederwaren continued, and Ruth peered through her thighs to see him removing his cravat and using it to tie her ankles together. He then bondaged them to the wall's high coat hook then stood back to admire the fleshy view. 'You may want to put your palms down on the bench rather than keeping them in your lap,' he said conversationally. 'That way you'll have something to grip onto when the leather sears your cheeks.'
Ruth heard his words, but couldn't quite translate them into action. Her entire being had become focused on her hugely-displayed haunches. Her eyes, peering through her upended legs, were fixed on Justus Lederwaren's belt. Somehow she'd envisaged being put over his knee and given a leathering. She could have wriggled against his manhood and gotten him hard...
'How many strokes do you deserve for lying to your Master?' the Dutchman asked.
'Four?' Ruth asked. She wasn't feeling hopeful.
'Four it is. And how many for taking photographs of the window girls?' the man replied.
Damn! Ruth had wanted a total of four lashes, but her helpless rotundities were obviously going to taste a great deal more. 'Another four?' she muttered, flexing her ankles to relieve the slight pull on her calves and shoulders.
Justus Lederwaren nodded. 'That sounds fair.' He paused, looking contemplative. Ruth shivered, awaiting further instruction. 'And two for trying to talk your way out of this punishment. And two for not stripping the instant I told you to,' the Dutchman said. He smiled. 'That's twelve of the best, but if you touch your punished flesh you'll get extra. We have to teach these adulterous globes a measure of control.'
Ruth had no defence, and knew that an apology wouldn't save her from her fate. She sucked in her breath, watching the man step backwards. She closed her eyes as he pulled back the belt, then opened them wide and yelled as the first band of heat streaked across her creamy soft skin. Her bottom did a little jerky dance on the bench of its own volition, but her bound ankles ensured that she wasn't going anyplace.
'My dear girl, with movement like that you'll never need aerobic exercise,' Justus said lightly.
Ruth felt a low rush of pudenda-based pleasure and a sweeping shame. 'I thought that you liked me,' she muttered piteously.
'I do like you. That's why I'm doing this,' the older man replied. He lined up the belt again, and Ruth pulled in her arse cheeks the little she could in her displayed position. 'I like you enough to want to make you a better person,' her tormentor said.
'I'll be better,' Ruth yelped, wishing that he wouldn't stare over at her helplessly exhibited pussy folds.
'No, you'll just try to look better - to not get caught out again - if I stop chastising you. If I continue to teach you self discipline then you'll ultimately lead a more honest and worthwhile life.'
'It's for my own good, you mean,' Ruth said sarcastically.
'Yes, your extremities will hate it but your character will thank me for it,' the Correction House worker said.
He pulled back the belt again. Ruth cried out before it touched her and Justus Lederwaren stayed his hand and smiled coolly.
'Save the histrionics, my dear. No matter how much you yell you're getting twelve of the lash.' He contemplated her hugely-displayed bum. 'Don't worry. I spend my life chastising soft young buttocks. I know how much you can take.'
'Psychic, are you?' Ruth muttered. Then the belt came down and her words turned into a wail of impotent perturbation. Her position prevented her from examining her posterior, but she could feel that he was toasting the fleshiest part of her nether cheeks. Though the leather stimulated her poor arse to the utmost, her main misery was caused by the ongoing shame.
The man dropped the belt and moved forward, then hunkered down at her rear. 'Let's see how hot you are so far,' he said, and brushed his fingertips along one of the wide long belt marks. Lust immediately coursed through Ruth's lower belly, spreading through her pubis and inner thighs. She groaned and tried to jerk her thrilled mons upwards, her sex tunnel suddenly begging to be filled. All pride gone, she writhed helplessly and whispered 'Please enter me, sir.'
'Easy,' Justus said. 'You're nowhere near deserving pleasure yet.'
'Please,' Ruth muttered hollowly, the need for an orgasm almost overwhelming her.
'Please warm my bare cheeks until they become more thoughtful?' Justus Lederwaren mocked. He reached for the belt and stood up, holding it near the silver buckle. A few seconds later Ruth howled as she tasted stroke three. Again she jiggled about on the bench and again the man waited until her movements eventually slowed to mere bottom-twitching. Then he laid on the fourth stroke and the fifth.
'I'll never photograph the window girls again. I'll do anything you say,' Ruth cried, temporarily meaning it.
'I told you that I'd stop when you'd suffered all twelve, and you're just about to taste the sixth one,' the Correction House worker said.
Ruth flinched as she heard a scuffling noise in the corridor outside. 'Who's there?' she asked sharply.
'Maybe a customer or the shop owner making use of a peephole,' Justus Lederwaren replied.
At the shameful thought Ruth found that words almost failed her. 'You mean, someone's watching us right now?'
'Yes - I'm sure the shop owner enjoys watching a disobedient girl getting her pants pulled down and her bottom reddened,' t
he impassive Dutchman said. He moved closer and ran a knowing finger down the swollen wet folds of her labial lips. Ruth moaned loudly and tried to buff her hungry fronds against his fingers, but he immediately pulled his hand away. 'Now where was I? Ah, yes, admonishing your wilful backside.'
The wilful backside quivered and quaked then relaxed slightly after the sixth stroke, which wasn't as bad as expected.
'Because you've a greedy little hole you're able to endure a more agonised arse,' Justus Lederwaren explained. He fingered the belt. 'We've done tests in which we stroke a girl's pussy before we take the cane to her. She howls less when she's thoroughly sexed up.'
Ruth shivered. She hated this man knowing that her quim was begging for it. She wanted to retain a vestige of control.
The seventh stroke cruelly crisscrossed two of the others. Ruth did her inevitable baying dance on the bench and tried impotently to pull her ankles free of their pitiless bonds.
'You're making too much fuss. You're beginning to anger me. I'm going to lay on the next four in quick succession,' the Correction House worker said softly, then he lashed the leather strap into her disarmed buttocks in a quiver-making quartet. Each sound effect in tandem with her movements, Ruth grunted, groaned, whimpered and finally yelled.
'Only one to go,' the Dutchman said consolingly when her sore globes had at last calmed down. He stopped and fondled her all over, then stood back and put his head assessingly to one side. 'Mm, a nice unfluctuating scarlet. I know how to administer a thorough thrashing, firm but fair.'
Ruth thought that he'd behaved like a male chauvinist pig, but she kept her council. With her ankles bound and her bum raised, she wasn't in a position to make him into an enemy.
Justus Lederwaren doled out the last lash across the centre of her tautly-held cheeks. Ruth squealed at the strange mixture of sore heat branding across her bum and covetous heat spreading throughout her sex curve. Her hands opened and closed convulsively on the plastic bench.
'I'm sorry I disobeyed you,' she whispered, hoping that she could make amends and earn permission to cup her anguished flesh for a few seconds. 'Really, sir, I'm remorseful about being bad.'
