Choices (1 of 6)

15Sep12

choiceschoicesThe Honourable Lucy Beverage looked at the various pieces of paper laid out on the antique Queen Anne table. Each sheet scattered carelessly next to the envelope that had brought them to her door; each as careless as the choices she had made and had yet to make.

Her slender elegant fingers plucked unconsciously at her Gucci silk top as her clear brown eyes peered down her correctly proportioned elegant nose at the documents from beneath an immaculate chestnut fringe.

Lucy was tall for a woman, with an outer appearance of unruffled calm. But inside she felt sick and more lost than she had felt in all of her 32 years.

She was in hock for almost a million pounds and so far her attempts to pay off her debts by writing cheques she could not honour had led to a £10,000 fine and the prospect of 18 months in prison. She shuddered. The very thought of gaol time for her was as bad as the inevitable bankruptcy that would follow.

For a long moment, her life throbbed in and out of focus and an alien emotion flooded her soul. Somewhere in the back of mind Edith Piaf was singing and Lucy shut her down with an ironic laugh. She supressed a sob, feeling like a little girl who had scraped her knee and wanted to run to Daddy. But some bridges in life could not be rebuilt, she was in tune with Edith on that one.

The plane ticket her cousin had sent looked like an easy option, but then what? She would still be bankrupt with a prison term hanging over her. She wasn’t sure additional penalties there were for fleeing justice on a forged passport, but she suspected that it might be even more severe than her current fate.

That left her with one other option. She picked up the letter and reread it.

“The Cornwall Institute has considered your situation is prepared to offer you a place at their alternative punishment centre.”

There were very few details in writing, but at an earlier interview she had been told that the alternative on offer included corporal punishment. She had laughed in their face and flat walked out on them. However, one other fact now came back to her. As part of the ‘treatment,’ as they had called it, all her debts would be paid with a low interest long-term loan and any amnesty would include not paying any fines.

“Sometimes money talks,” she whispered.

*

Meanwhile in a seedier part of town Patsy Kenwood could not believe her luck.

“The Cornwall Institute has considered your situation is prepared to offer you a place at their alternative punishment centre,” she read aloud, adding: “That’s those spanking and caning freaks.”

Some sort of religious nutters, she didn’t wonder. But what the hell, it had to be better than three years inside, even if they did want her to attend some old-fashioned training centre and whack her bum a few times. All her rent would be paid and all her debts set aside with some sort of never-never scheme. It was a better deal than some of the creeps she had hung out with had ever offered her.

She had been in a state of shock for weeks at the prospect of returning to court to hear her sentence, now she risked a look in the mirror for the first time in days. Her greenish eyes sparkled under her untidy mane of red hair. At 29 she was a looker. Even at school everyone had said she could be a model, but then she just hadn’t grown above average height. She thrust out her slightly too large breasts and smoothed the curve of her ample hips and shrugged. It hadn’t stopped her being a dancer, she mused. Even if she did have to take her clothes off now and then. If only she had stuck to it instead of getting out of her depth with a bit of thieving on the side.

Oh well, she had always known something would turn up and it had.

“I am not going to prison,” she sang childishly to herself in the glass as she began to dance. “I am not going to prison.”

*

“You’re damn well going,” her aunt scolded.

It was almost the first thing she had said to Carol-Anne since she had been arrested for credit card fraud.

“But it’s crazy,” Carol-Anne whined.

“Crazy is it. How many times have you been caught shop-lifting and now you get caught for credit cards. Well I’ll tell you girl, it’s this institute place or prison. You decided and decide quickly,” he aunt raged at her.

Carol-Anne had lived with her aunt for over nine years, ever since her parents had thrown her out at aged 16. She had never been the been the brightest of girls, in fact even her friends called her the original dumb blonde, but even she could see that the institute was worse than school and she had hated school.

“Oh auntie, please,” she wailed, pleading with her big sad blue eyes.

Her aunt turned to confront her, although not particularly tall herself, she towered over the petite five feet nothing 25-year-old.

“You are going aren’t you? You know you are,” he aunt said firmly.

“Yes auntie,” Carol-Anne sighed. After all what real choice did she have?

*

Vernon Cornwall stood in his corner office above the converted stables and watched the three new girls step wide-eyed and nervous from the mini-bus with their bags. They could not see him from where they were and until they entered the courtyard, the Cornwall institute looked like any other English country estate.

It had taken years of investment and political manoeuvring to set-up the institute and even now he could not believe that the authorities would go for it. It had taken careful campaign contributions and a great many favours; favours that included the quite handling of not a few scandal-ridden wayward politicians’ daughters. Finally, bit by bit, he had slowly got his modest establishment.

Now his latest batch of inmates had arrived liked flies unto the spider, he thought. First job is to scare them a little and then see what they are made of.

Over the last two or three years, many young women had opted to leave the institute before he could make much headway, but there was always a few that settled in; some, even staying long after their sentences were up. Looking at the three newcomers, he wondered which of them would make the grade and which would fall at the first hurdle.

“This will require careful handling,” he mused aloud.

*

The three women had hardly spoken to each other on the long drive from London. Only Patsy had made any real attempt, but her heart wasn’t really in it. She quickly decided that the smartly dressed older woman with dark-bobbed hair was too snooty to talk to likes of her and the small five foot blonde was just a scared kid.

Now that they had arrived there was even less reason to talk. So it was in silence that three made their way with their bags up the gravel drive to the open gate that lead to the enclosed stable complex.

The gate itself was a two story brick archway that had one row of windows above it before the roof. There were no ground floor windows on the outer wall and those in the upper stories stared blankly back at them unpenetrateable to their gaze.

“It looks like a bloody prison,” Patsy said.

Carol-Anne looked up terrified by this remark although Lucy just sneered.

Getting no reply, Patsy added, “No actual gates anyway.”

“An open prison then,” Lucy murmured.

“Come on,” Patsy said brightly, as she hitched up her bags to get a better grip and strode on through the arch.

Reluctantly the others followed her into the shadow of the brick tunnel into the courtyard, with nothing but a bright glare beyond.

Then they saw a silhouette of a girl sweeping.

“You there,” Lucy said imperiously, “Where do we report?”

They could see now that the girl had a Mediterranean look and without pausing with the broom she nodded somewhat surlily to somewhere beyond.

It was then that Lucy noticed that the girl’s grey working dress was somewhat short, leaving her legs bare to just below the waist. Then as they went past, she could see why. To all intents and purposes the girl was wearing only a tunic that hung to the top of her thighs. Only, as if this was not enough it had been turned up behind to reveal the girl’s bare bottom. More shockingly, her firm dusky behind was scored with sharp welts that lined her long buttocks from the tucked-up hem to the top of her thighs.

Lucy smothered a gasp and hastily looked away. That small gesture was enough for the others to look where the older woman was so pointedly not.

Carol-Anne blanched and clapped a hand to her mouth while Patsy giggled and exclaimed, “Bloody hell, they weren’t kidding were they?”

In truth, Patsy found the sight of a well-caned bare bottom quite exciting and she tried to catch the other two’s eyes to share the fun. But Carol-Anne kept her chin tightly clamped to her chest and gazed fixed on the floor while Lucy hurried on.

In the yard beyond worse was to come.

In similar attire and bent over a trestle in the middle of the courtyard was another girl. Her legs were secured apart so that all was revealed behind as her bare bottom curved upwards to the sky.

Behind her, stood a very large blond-haired man in his middle 30s dressed in leather trousers and a tight white T-shirt. Between his hands he flexed a long pliable cane, which was about as thick as his thumb and a meter long. In any other circumstance the whole bond-movie villain look might have made the girls laugh, but one look from his hard blue eyes and all three virtually gulped in unison.

“You are late,” he bellowed at them like a parade ground sergeant.

“B-but…” Carol-Anne stuttered.

“We didn’t exactly have any control over the travel arrangements.” Lucy managed to sound cool, even faced with the woman’s stark bare bottom.

Patsy had met many men in her life and knew when to keep her mouth shut.

“Are you answering me back?” The man rasped.

“No I simply…” Lucy tried again.

“Right, you three, get your knickers down and form an orderly queue. You’re next.” The order was punctuated by a slice of the cane through the air and the woman on the trestle flinched.

“Oh my God,” Carol-Anne gasped.

“Oh man, come on,” Patsy groaned, but she put down her bags in preparation to obey nonetheless.

Lucy swallowed and licked her lips. This was insane. It was too soon, she hadn’t finished denying to herself that this was part of the deal yet. She felt sick; as if a great void in her life had opened.

“Please Sir, we’re sorry,” Carol-Anne looked as if she might flee.

Just then a door opened behind them and another man in a suit entered the yard. He was around 40 and well-built, although nowhere near as tall as the man with the cane.

“Alright Karl, leave this with me,” the man said with authority. “You three; pick up those bags and follow me.”

Patsy’s face broke into a grin and when his attention was elsewhere, she risked poking her tongue out at Karl.

Carol-Anne didn’t need telling twice and gathered up her bags and scurried towards the door that the suited man was holding open for them.

Only Lucy paused for another look at the scene. She felt strangely light-headed and for a moment the reprieve seemed an intrusion as she tingled in unfamiliar places. Then seeing the suited man glaring at her, she shook herself and hurried after the others.

*

“I’m sorry Sir, but we really didn’t know we were late…” Carol-Anne began bleating out her distress.

“Carol-Anne Simmons,” the man said ignoring her while he studied some notes, “A history of shoplifting and more recently, credit card fraud.”

“Yes Sir,” Carol-Anne gulped.

“Look, I don’t think we can really be held responsible for being late…” Lucy said confidently as if she was addressing a porter at a railways station.

“The Honourable Lucy Beverage, scion of a noble house, all round spoilt brat and fraudster,” he continued studying the eldest of the three women carefully. “Somewhat estranged from your family.”

“Yes well,” Lucy broke off with a blush.

“As are you all to some degree,” Vernon continued.

Patsy stood up straight and unsmiling ready to do anything she was told. She had this man’s number, he was the boss and he had already decided to do whatever he was going to do unless they made it worse.

“Finally we have Patsy Kenwood, shall we say ‘exotic dancer,’ chancer and all round wastrel. Also facing three years for theft,” the man in the suit continued.

Patsy shrugged and tried to shake off a smirk.

“My name is Vernon Cornwall and I am here to make you a unique offer.” He paused for effect. “I am interested in personal reform through, among other things, corporal punishment, principally spanking, caning and other such things. Some may consider me a pervert and I don’t care one jot about that.”

On the word jot he snapped his fingers and then waited to make sure they were listening. He noticed that the girl Pasty seemed to relax a little at the word ‘pervert’ as if she knew now she was on home ground. Lucy reacted with a small tightening around the mouth and a quick flurry of blinking. Only Carol-Anne visibly blanched.

Seeing he had their full attention he continued, “We have been watching you very carefully; your aptitude tests suggest that you will fit in here very nicely. However, you can leave at any time you want. A car is on standby to drive you to the court for sentencing.”

Again he paused for effect and to look for signs of reaction from them.

“If you choose to stay you will be here for at least three months, although you can bail out at any time in those months if you really insist. Then after three months you can go home scot free unless you choose to remain with the programme and continue to enjoy its fringe benefits. But I warn you, while you are here, you will obey the rules or suffer the consequences and to be honest at times you will be somewhat uncomfortable in any case.”

Carol-Anne hugged herself nervously and Lucy licked her lips. Only Patsy was still struggling to hide a smirk as she pondered on the words ‘fringe benefits.’

Then Vernon Cornwall smiled and spoke more gently. “We are not entirely mad here and however it may appear, nothing too traumatic will happen, certainly nothing you can’t handle. Remember, you are not innocent and you are not being offered an easy option, just a better one in my view. As I said, you can leave any time you want.”

Lucy weighed Vernon’s words while Patsy looked ahead and thought ‘you always land on your feet girl.’

Only Carol-Anne showed any concern. She stood awkwardly chewing at her lower lip like one who might run for home at any moment. All she could think of was the scary man with the cane and the two half-naked women in the courtyard.

“Now are there any questions?” Vernon asked.

“Those girls… will we…? I mean…” Carol-Anne mumbled.

Vernon nodded, he knew the girl’s type; she was the most apprehensive and the most submissive. She would fit in here the quickest if she did but realise it. She would be no real challenge and he already knew how to help her.

“Come, I want you to see something; something to make all of this real for you,” Vernon said walking to the window on the other side of his office. “Come here. Look out of the window.”

The girls followed him and shuffled forward to look. Below them was the courtyard with the bare-bottomed girl still across the trestle with the large blond man standing behind her wielding the cane. Only now there were at least a dozen dark lines marking her up thrust bottom and she seemed to be squirming on the frame like a woman with insomnia trying to get comfortable in bed.

Pasty licked her lips and broke into an open grin. “Crazy, man,” she whispered.

Lucy grasped her own wrist and the odd feeling that she had felt earlier returned as her eyes drank in the scene. The blood rushed to her head and spilled into a blush on to her face. It was a new experience for her.

Carol-Anne was wide-eyed and open-mouthed as she gaped at the scene. She wanted to go. Run out the door, run up the drive and never look back.

All of this Vernon read in their faces as they watched the rest of the caning.

“Have I made myself quite clear about everything?” Vernon asked.

“Yes Sir,” Patsy said quickly.

“I suppose,” Lucy said with a shrug and then added, “Sir.”

“I don’t like it here, I want to go,” Carol-Anne wailed.

“You want to spend the next three years in prison where much worse things will happen to you?” Vernon said casually.

Carol-Anne’s mouth worked but no words came out. That was too terrible to think about. That was tomorrow. This was now.

“It’s a simple enough question,” Vernon said.

Carol-Anne looked at Patsy who was staring at her with an incredulous look on her face.

Lucy was pursing her lips with a sour expression and looked Carol-Anne up and down like something she had stepped in.

“Oh I don’t know,” Carol-Anne said close to tears.

“No you don’t do you? It’s fear of the unknown. It is how you got yourself into trouble to begin with,” Vernon said sympathetically.

Carol-Anne nodded meekly and looked at her shoes.

“If you agree, I am going to do something to help you and if you still want to go in five minutes, I’ll walk you to the car myself,” Vernon said with a smile. “Do you agree?”

Carol-Anne smiled and risked a small nodded.

In one easy movement he crossed the room and scooped up the tiny woman as he sat down and tipped her across his lap so that her cotton trousers were drum tight over bottom. Carol-Anne barely had time to gasp as she sprawled blinking rapidly over Vernon’s knee before the first spank landed.

“Ow,” she squealed.

While Lucy clutched herself at the throat Patsy giggled at this until a glare from Vernon silenced her.

A rapid clapping barrage fell for the next three or four minutes until Carol-Anne was squirming and wailing moist-eyed across Vernon’s knee.

“You are a silly little girl and I really I am not going to indulge you as others have. You are certainly not going to waste anyone here’s time, do you understand me?” The scolding reminded Carol-Anne of her aunt and she whimpered in agreement.

“Now,” Vernon said darkly as he set the girl back on her feet, “I have a good mind to send you down to Karl for a sound caning on your bare bottom in front of everyone, any more silliness from you and I will. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir,” a wide-eyed Carol-Anne said even as she rubbed her bottom.

“Now do you still want to go or shall I have someone show you to you room?”

“I’ll stay Sir,” Carol-Anne said hastily, still furiously rubbing at her bottom and glowered; still blushing at the other two women.

Patsy responded by fixing the younger woman with a small smile as her tongue danced around her lips like a cat licking cream from her whiskers.

Lucy was blushing almost as much as Carol-Anne and unconsciously straightened her clothes as if it had been her whose dignity had been assaulted.

Vernon watched them all, gauging how each responded and how best to proceed. Carol-Anne had been the most scared and now to some extent the worst had happened to her and she knew she would survive. Lucy thought she could rise above it all, but she smoothed at her thighs and surreptitiously ‘weighed’ her bottom with her hands. He gave a wry smile at the way Lucy had identified strongly with Carol-Anne’s plight and that even now unnamed possibilities ranged through her mind. Only Patsy was openly amused. He knew the type. To her it was all fun for the feeble minded; a bit of rough and tumble that she could steer to her advantage. For now she would be useful in steadying the others, but in time she would need the most taming.

To be continued.



5 Responses to “Choices (1 of 6)”

  1. 1 paul1510

    Damian,
    I think that I will enjoy this, it’s different, but not so different as to be unfamiliar. 😀
    Sometimes the familiar can be comforting. 😉
    Paul.

  2. 2 bahamagirl1996

    It looks like his is going to be interesting . U gat me 🙂

  3. 3 DJ

    Thanks – it is finished and will appear here over the next two weeks. 😉

  4. 4 Autumn

    Scrumptious… I look forward to hearing more.

  5. 5 DJ

    I hope it will be OK too. 😉

    Thank you Autumn


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