by Sarah Veitch
'What are you going to do to me?' Ruth mumbled as she crawled in front of Sadie on her leash, heading for one of the doors at the far side of the building.
'I'm going to teach you to sit up and beg, to give a paw, to be a good little dog,' the stronger woman said.
'And if I won't?' Ruth's pride fought against the humiliating orders.
'If you don't you'll get your arse tanned again and again.'
And suddenly Ruth knew that the previous weeks had been a mere rehearsal for the training that was to follow, that her real re-education had just begun...
It Could Be You
Chloe cheered as the wind-powered town clock struck midnight. A snowflake fell, bringing forth another excited roar from the drunken crowds. There had been so much global warming of late that a flurry of snow was a cause for much rejoicing. The New Year was off to an auspicious start.
'Let's go wild tonight!' Emma whooped, slugging back another half tin of lager. Chloe hesitated, wondering what her best friend had in mind. Emma had the courage of a thirty year old revolutionary, even though she was a hair extension consultant aged twenty-two.
Now Emma started to steer her away from the Hogmanay crowds. 'I know how we can get access to The Game,' she said excitedly. 'Big Game. We're talking thousands if your numbers are called.'
'And we're talking about the sorest backsides in Christendom if we get caught buying a ticket,' Chloe replied in a tense low voice. She shivered at the thought of publicly baring her bottom. She'd never had a spanking, far less a thorough caning before. And the State Caning Machine seemingly ignored a female convict's pleading, was supposed to stripe her cheeks the hottest red.
'Hey, it's the New Year. Do you really think that the Anti-Betting Boys in Blue are going to be out looking for the likes of us?' Emma scoffed haughtily. 'We just need one big win and we'll never have to work again!'
And so it was that Chloe found herself following her friend down a series of tunnels to an enormous factory basement. Emma muttered a password, and the girl on the door beckoned them in.
Both girls bought ten tickets each then crossed their fingers. The hour passed slowly. They sipped cranberry juice cocktails as they waited for the lottery winners to be announced. 'This is the last time I'm coming here,' muttered the bearded man at the next table. 'My brother got a state caning yesterday. You should see the colour of the poor guy's arse.'
'Is it true that they can vary the severity of the caning machine?' Chloe started to ask with bashful curiosity.
'Ssssssh!' everyone else said as the successful numbers appeared on the satellite screen.
'Damn,' Chloe muttered a couple of minutes later, crinkling up her tickets, 'I haven't been lucky.'
'You certainly haven't,' said a voice in her ear. 'I'm from the Anti-Betting Squad. The disciplinary rod awaits.'
Twenty minutes later Chloe watched through a glass panel as Emma was led into the State Caning Room. A uniformed male policeman held her right arm and marched her towards the automatic mechanical punisher. 'Disrobe from the waist down,' he said matter-of-factly. 'Then bend over the whipping stool and grip the lower bar to hold yourself in place.'
'That's easy for you to say,' Emma sulked. Her fingers fumbled against the button of her jeans, then she reluctantly pulled down the close-fitting denim. She shrugged the garment off then hesitated, her fingers on the waistband of her silken pants. 'Couldn't I just keep my briefs on, Mr Policeman?' she asked humbly. 'The material's thin so it would just be for modesty's sake.'
'Section 2A of the Bottomley Act demands that the illegal gambler be naked of posterior,' the policeman answered, staring at her with mild impatience.
'What if I don't comply with your rules?' Emma shot back. Chloe was glad to see her friend showing such verve and spirit. She wondered if she'd be so brave when her own turn came.
'A failure to comply with the rules can lead to extra hard cane strokes,' the man replied. 'And we have three bachelor security guards who are very eager to undress a naughty young delinquent,' he added with a smile. 'Their fingers have been known to stray up vaginal and anal passages as they pull down a recalcitrant girl's pants.' He looked at her own tautly-knickered crotch, his eyes assessing. 'Shall I call them all in?'
'No - please don't do that.' Emma licked her lips then turned her body so that her stomach rather than her arse was towards the restless official, then she slowly pulled down her bikini briefs. Chloe could see apprehension in her friend's blue eyes - apprehension and a cautious excitement. Emma was obviously rising to the challenge of all this.
'Bend over the whipping stool,' the officer said again.
Emma took a deep breath then obeyed him. Chloe watched her friend's bare bottom quiver slightly as it neared its painful fate. What must poor Emma be thinking and feeling? She, Chloe, just wanted to escape.
But that would earn her further correction for resisting arrest, so all she could do was watch her friend's chastisement. Watch and learn, knowing that this striping would fall on her own small buttocks next. 'Ten strokes for the purchase of ten lottery tickets,' said the robotic overhead voice which presumably always passed sentence. 'First time offender, so State Caning Machine is to be set at level three.'
The policeman did something to a square machine at one side of Emma's bum. That same bum twitched, obviously aware that its punishment was growing nearer. It was a wonderfully smooth and defenceless bum, Chloe thought, with a rush of lust and shame. At the moment both hemispheres were a uniform creamy shade, a firm peach of perfection. A tiny part of Chloe's psyche wanted to see the flesh striped a glowing red. Emma had gotten her into this fix, she told herself with a little rush of devilment. She deserved to writhe under the swishy cane.
'Stroke one,' ordered the robotic voice. Chloe looked back to see that Emma's fingers were tightly gripping the low bar of the punishment stool, bare feet resting in the grooves of the crossbar. It was a position which elevated her extremities to their utmost, resulting in an erring and very sorry looking bare arse.
'Let the official punishment commence,' the policeman said. As Chloe stared, a long judicial cane came mechanically out of the machine. Obviously Emma couldn't see it. She sensed or heard it, though, for her body puckered up some more. The cane was attached to a metal arm which seemed inordinately flexible. That same arm pulled the rod back, back, back, then whacked it forward into Emma's waiting flesh.
The twenty-two year old's bottom jerked and both slender thighs stiffened for at least ten seconds, then Emma seemed to push her tummy more fully into the wooden stool. The muscles in her bum tightened then slowly relaxed again as they realised the first cane stroke was over. After another few seconds her shoulders also untensed.
The mechanical cane seemed to know that the transgressor was ready for cane stripe two. Either that, or someone watching the punishment was pushing the activator button. Whatever, the long rod struck again and the state's newest prisoner yelped and groaned. A second thin pink line appeared on the undercurve of Emma's pale bum, below the first stripe. They were almost parallel across the twitching creamy flesh. Chloe winced in sympathy for her friend but still watched, mesmerised. 'She's wriggling that arse so prettily,' a male voice said.
Chloe looked around in shock and surprise. It was an older policeman who had spoken. He was standing behind her and staring fixedly at the punishment scene. 'I like a backside with a bit of life in it,' he continued, watching through the glass as Emma's bum wriggled under the rod again. 'Especially one as cute as this.'
'She's my best friend,' Chloe muttered, wishing that the man wouldn't talk so crudely.
'Then you can compare red stripe marks afterwards,' the fifty year old replied with a lazy grin.
Chloe stared back at him with wide eyed apprehension. 'I've never been caned before, far less in public. Isn't there another way...?'
'Are you offering me a good time?' he asked, clear interest lighting up his eyes.
Chloe hesitated, not wanting to have full sex with
the man yet longing to control the situation. 'I could please you with my hand,' she murmured, curling her ringless fingers into an inviting sheath.
'Oh dear, trying to bribe an official with sexual favours. That's perverting the course of justice,' the man said sadly. 'Which earns you another two sore strokes.'
God, no! She'd tried to wriggle out of her ordeal and only succeeded in making the situation worse. Chloe pushed her weight down more firmly on her pencil skirt clad bum as if to make access to it difficult. 'But that makes twelve. It'll be agony,' she moaned.
'You should have thought of that before you broke the law, young Miss,' the policeman said.
Knowing that he was right, Chloe moved her gaze back in time to see the mechanical rod being lined up with Emma's lower half again. The poor girl had been getting caned for some time and her bum looked like that of a luminous zebra. Now it tensed and quivered as she waited for another judicial stroke.
Chloe licked her lips at the thought of her own nether cheeks being so vulnerably displayed. The shame must be daunting. At least it's not personal, she told herself. It's an impartial machine which lays on the cane.
Emma took her last stroke and lay over the stool for a while whimpering quietly. It was clear to both watching policemen and to Chloe that she'd never break the anti-gambling law again. Gently the policeman who had been overseeing her punishment helped her up and steered her out of the gallery. The older man then turned to Chloe. 'Time for your flogging, girlie,' he said with an eager grin.
Together they walked towards the newly vacated whipping stool. 'Let's have that skirt and those panties off,' the man continued. Remembering what he'd said about procrastination, Chloe reluctantly removed her skirt then pulled down her pants.
'State Caning Machine has malfunctioned. Have paged all electronic engineers to report for duty to fix it,' the robotic voice of the intercom suddenly said.
'Paged all engineers? There's only two of them,' the official laughed, rolling his brown eyes heavenwards.
'I thought that lots of people wanted to be engineers,' Chloe gasped with growing dread.
The policeman shrugged. 'They did until the government stopped giving out university grants.' He smiled. 'Nowadays we've a very small skilled workforce. Speaking of which, what do you do yourself?'
'I record talking books,' Chloe said.
'Thought you had a nice voice,' the officer replied amicably. He slapped one palm against the other. 'Well, now it's about to squeal.'
'But I thought the caning machine was broken?' Chloe said, looking hopefully at her discarded skirt and panties.
'It is. Means I have to use manual intervention,' the policeman replied.
'You mean you'll cane me by hand?' the twenty-two year old muttered, taking a step back then covering her bare bum with her spread-apart small fingers.
'It's a difficult job but someone's got to do it,' the older man confirmed with a sardonic look.
Worse and worse. Chloe searched for ways to delay her punishment a little longer. 'Can't I come back when the machine is fixed?' she asked.
'No, correction must be carried out within six hours of arrest,' the official said. He put his hands on her naked cheeks and started to steer her towards the whipping stool. 'Best get the striping started. Your friend's eager to see the show.'
The twenty-two year old's belly tingled with excitement and ongoing shame. 'You mean Emma's watching?' Chloe asked, peering fruitlessly at the one way window. She'd half enjoyed watching her friend receive a state caning, but she felt quite different now that her own rump was on full display.
'Yes, public humiliation is part of the corrective process,' the policeman explained. 'Usually we have queues waiting to see the wrongdoers taking their canings. It's only because its Hogmanay that the public gallery is almost bare.'
Bare like her bum. Chloe looked for a way to take the warden's mind off the birching she had due. 'Why is buying a lottery ticket so terrible?' she asked quickly.
'You're obviously too young to remember the year two thousand,' said the man. He sighed. 'I was born that very year, so when I was older my parents told me all the details. I knew then that I wanted to stamp out such gambling vice.'
He bent Chloe over the whipping stool. 'Right, girlie, raise your arse in the air whilst I tell you the rest of the story. That way you'll connect the crime with the punishment even more fully and hopefully won't be foolish enough to repeat the offence.'
Slowly Chloe wrapped her hands around the stool legs and placed her feet in the grooves. Her bottom was displayed like the full moon and felt hugely vulnerable. 'I really am sorry,' she whispered ingratiatingly.
'We find that criminals are even more sorry once their bums have been warmed,' the official added. He ran a palm over Chloe's naked haunches and she shivered with pleasure and the fear of pain.
'As I was saying,' the man continued, 'when the lottery began in the mid nineteen nineties it was supposed to be a bit of fun, an occasional diversion. Unfortunately the organisers hadn't allowed sufficiently for human weakness and human greed.' He adjusted Chloe's naked haunches so that they squirmed more centrally on the stool. 'Some people started spending most of their income on tickets and scratchcards, then they'd shoplift to make ends meet. When they still didn't win they started to rob people of their savings in order to buy more lottery tickets.'
'So law and order was breaking down and the lottery became illegal,' Chloe muttered, wondering how her bare bottom looked to the watching man and woman. 'Thanks for explaining all the anti-betting propaganda. Now I understand.'
'If you'd taken the time to understand before then this naughty backside wouldn't be facing a roasting,' the anti-gambling policeman said in a heartfelt tone.
His words seemed to remind him of her fate. Leastways he walked towards the cupboard and brought out a long thin cane with a thicker curved handle. 'Twelve strokes coming up,' he warned, walking up behind her exposed soft curves.
'Couldn't you just settle for the original ten?' Chloe muttered.
'No, your proposition was lewd. Being punished for it will stop you becoming a woman of easy virtue,' her dominator said.
'Yeah? And what will it take to stop you being a sadist?' Chloe asked jeeringly.
Then she squealed and shoved her tummy into the whipping stool as the cane whacked against her bent-over cheeks.
'This is state-sanctioned chastisement. Would you rather go to prison?' the man replied.
'Christ, no,' the twenty-two year old gasped with feeling.
'Then ask nicely for the second stroke,' the policeman said.
The room fell silent as Chloe mused over this latest demand. 'What if I don't?' she asked, not wanting to say the words which would immediately continue her chastisement.
'If you don't then my arm may get annoyed and may start to cane harder,' the official replied.
'Don't cane harder,' Chloe yelped, already hugely aware of her inaugural stripe. She marshalled her resources, reminding herself that humiliation was part of the rehabilitation process, that it was for her own good. 'Please sir,' she whispered ashamedly, 'I deserve a second sore swish of the cane.'
The official obliged. Chloe felt the rod heating the centre of her small soft globes. She drummed her feet against the stool's grooves and wailed for thirty seconds. In truth the pain was bearable but she was already thinking ahead to how she'd feel by stroke twelve. 'I clearly haven't lost my touch,' said the man. 'Both stripes are very comely. But there's far too much white flesh left...'
Chloe shivered. She knew that he intended to redden each centimetre of her unclothed orbs. She wished again that she hadn't broken the law, hadn't listened to Emma. Remembering that her friend was watching, she resolved to act unfazed.
'I don't hear you begging for stroke three,' the policeman said.
'That's because I haven't said anything,' Chloe muttered. The man laid on the third stroke immediately and she groaned.
'Did that one sting more than the others,
my lawbreaking friend? You brought it on yourself,' he said softly.
'Please, sir,' Chloe whispered, 'I've been a naughty girl who deserves another stripe.'
She winced as the official put that same red band in place. Now she was a third of the way through her punishment. She wondered if Emma was enjoying the naked view.
'Now where shall I put the fifth stripe?' the policeman said.
'Surprise me,' Chloe muttered. He was such a gloating bastard that she felt obliged to verbally fight.
To her shame, the man took her at her word. 'Well, I could aim the rod at the tender area above your legs,' he murmured thoughtfully. 'That makes your bottom jerk real hard before it gets back into position. Or I could warm you just a little further up so that one stripe lies beside the next.' He hesitated, and Chloe sensed that he was lining up the cane with her cheeks again. She pushed her tummy more fully against the whipping stool's seat. 'One part of me wants to toast a new section of buttock just to see the line appear,' the man continued thoughtfully. 'Another part wants to make an existing mark a more heated red.'
Striping a new section of her arse obviously won, for the guilty party felt the man laying the cane on a previously untouched centimetre of her raised bare bottom. She muttered obscenities under her breath as he applied the long thin rod to her creamy right sphere. 'Now, now, be nice to the kindly policeman,' he mocked, doling out the sixth stroke to her left.
A moment later he swished on the seventh and the eighth. Chloe could tell that he wasn't moving his arm very far back - but then he didn't have to. She was finding out that even a small swish of the cane thoroughly disciplined her sentient helplessness. What on earth had possessed her to break the law when she'd known that a caning was the penalty? She'd just never envisaged baring her bottom like this.
The ninth stroke landed on the delicate crease above her thighs and almost unnerved her. Chloe gave an animalistic little cry and started to rise. She scrambled awkwardly to her feet then put both hands over her punished haunches, rubbing furiously at the latest pain.
