Carrie Undercover

04May13

carrie undercoverIt was more than two hours since lights-out and the sun had long set on the Colossians Baptist Ladies College in the good old State of Alabama. Why was everything ‘good old’ in this part of the world, she wondered? It was crazy, just like the inmates, nothing was particularly old compared to her native England and so far there wasn’t that much good about it; not here in college anyway. She had as yet not seen much of Alabama. Maybe it was like the movies, she thought ruefully.

Carrie Johns tiptoed down the hall painfully aware that every footfall was a shout; or at least seemed that way. Damn these old wooden floors, she cursed inwardly. The only illumination was from the high hall windows that dropped moonlit oblongs onto the floor at regular intervals ahead of her. Then out of the corner of her eye she saw someone watching her and icy fingers of fear stole down her spine.

Carrie gulped and in her head rehearsed a yarn about being English and stupid and ‘where exactly is the midnight cocoa room’ in her best cliché prep-school tones. Some of the snobs here had already bought that line, but only some of them.

Frozen in place she slowly turned her head to face hard puritan eyes regarding her from the shadows. The Founder towered over her, drilling her with his eyes almost 120 years after he had died.

“Creepy bloody painting,” she cursed in a whisper. But if anyone had been watching her they would have seen the green eyes set in heart-shaped face close with relief beneath the fringe of her red-brown hair ‘that must not touch the collar.’

Carrie was small, slight in build and barely five feet two in height; the main reason she had been chosen for this assignment.

“You want me to infiltrate a Bible-bashing Southern college Chief?” she had gasped, “But I am nearly 25.”

“As Interpol is staffed entirely by graduates, I don’t have too many 18-year-olds at my disposal. The FBI would have used their own agent, but they don’t have anyone that young either. So as the only one who could pass…”

“Oh terrific,” Carrie had rolled up her eyes.

“Cut that out,” the Chief had scolded her in his best paternal manner.

“How long will I be in this dump?” Carrie said with a pout.

“I have enrolled you in the second semester. It should be long enough?” the Chief had told her.

“’Should be’ and anyway, a whole semester…?” Carrie had been dismayed, but already it seemed so long ago.

Carrie looked again at the portrait. It was almost as if he knew she was an interloper. She shrugged. She had no time for this.

The principal’s office was locked as she knew it would be. Its usual occupant was one Martin De Mark, an imposing cuss who could turn from jocular to imperious on a dime. But he was not in her sights. It was his secretary’s office that was her target. Or more specifically the student register. A request for it through the usual channels had been considered by the chief, but it was decided that it might tip off the suspect and with students coming and going all the time a sudden departure would not necessarily be a pointer.

Carrie needed to know who had enrolled at Colossians in the month prior to her arrival. That ought to narrow it down to no more than half a dozen suspects.

“Damn,” she cursed as she tried the door with an improvised lock-pick.

The word was a no-no at Colossians and she blanched out of habit lest someone was there to hear her. There wasn’t of course.

Okay it was worth a try. Now for plan B, she thought hoping she could come up with one.

The trouble was all she knew about the suspect was that she was female and could be no older than Carrie was. The informant had said that the woman was hoping to hide in an Alabama college until the heat was off, but not which one. Their only other lead had been the prospectus found in the trash at the back of the motel she was last known to have been whilst on the run. The motel had porn on tap so a genuine candidate was unlikely to have used it.

Carrie let out a heavy sigh and made to go back to her room. The light that came on left her momentarily blind.

“Miss Johns,” Principal De Mark said breezily. “How might I help you?”

“Eh… oh, silly me, I appear to be lost… where might I get some cocoa. I can’t… eh… sleep,” Carrie said blinking hard, her cut-glass tones laid on with a trowel, her usual accent being rather more estuary.

“I think it was explained to you during your first week here that there are no such arrangements available to students after lights out,” De Mark said sharply, adding, “And during your second week when Mrs Coleridge paddled you for the same mistake.”

Carrie felt her buttocks clench and her hand went unconsciously to her rear end as she blushed. The events mentioned had happened so fast that she had not had time to consider breaking cover. The same thought occurred now.

“Tomorrow; my office after second period, see me,” De Mark said in a crisp voice. “Now I suggest you go to bed.”

Carrie hung her mouth open to reply, but all she said was, “Yes Sir.”

*

“Now Miss Johns, you know the drill,” De Mark growled.

Carrie’s fluttered like a broken-winged bird, her arms flapping straight and nervously at her sides as she took a slight crouching position as if about to flee.

“Can’t we… I mean can’t we talk about this. You haven’t even asked me what I was doing,” Carrie protested with a wail.

The morning had dragged by as Carrie had wracked her brains for a plausible reason for her skulking on the administration floor after dark. Now in the principal’s office things were spinning out of control.

“I don’t care Miss Johns. Let’s face it, whatever you tell me will be a story and I don’t plan on giving you another chance to lie and imperilling your soul,” De Mark said in a bored voice.

“But I…”

“Tell you what Miss Johns, I don’t know how they do things in England, by while you slip your panties down and bend over I will fetch the cane instead of the paddle. Just in case last time we had a communication problem and you didn’t understand that ‘the paddle’ is American for ‘don’t get caught out of bounds.’”

Carrie took a deep breath and clamped shut her jaw.

“Look…” she began, but what could she say?

De Mark cocked an eyebrow until Carrie swallowed hard and reached under skirt to tug at her underwear.

By the time the Principal had turned back, a red-faced and soon to be very red-bottomed Carrie was bending over with her panties at her ankles to display her bare behind.

“Spare the rod and spoil the child,” De Mark intoned, “You know this English device is so much more biblical somehow.”

“I am not a child,” Carrie said sullenly, her accent slipping to show her rather lower middle class South London roots.

“You are under 21, which is much the same in my book young lady,” De Mark said sternly.

“But I…”

“You’re not going to argue, are you?”

“No… Sir,” Carrie said bitterly through her clenched teeth.

“That attitude will get you two extra,” the Principal barked.

Carrie gasped, “Sir I…” tears pooled at her eyes as she closed her mouth in resignation.

“Bend right over now, right over. If I have to offer you a chair back there will be a further two for the privilege,” De Mark promised. “I don’t know what your game is, but it ends here and now. Do you understand?”

Carrie gulped and folded herself over a little more so that her bare bottom was more obviously on display. She hoped it would be enough.

“Yes Sir,” she said; the words awkward in her throat.

“Legs together and bend a little more. Let me see you grab those ankles,” De Mark growled.

The rush of blood to her face felt hot on her cheeks but she did as she was told until her bottom was thrust right up and back at him in what seemed a somewhat obscene manner. Still he had ordered her legs closed, which was more than she had heard from other girls here.

The hard swish ended in a tight thwack somewhere nearby. It took a moment for the sting to register and she grunted and dipped her knees. The paddle had been worse she remembered, although just as embarrassing. But even as this thought came the cane continued to bite and she struggled bug-eyed for breath as the pain continued to build.

The second stroke was even worse and she sucked in air through her nose sharply as she processed it.

“Breath through your mouth, it will be easier,” he told her. He sounded concerned.

Carrie nodded and after a moment, did as she was told. She was still panting hard when the next stroke landed.

“Ah,” she barked and did a little dance without lifting her feet or standing up.

“You take it well Miss Johns,” De Mark said in admiration.

For some reason she was pleased by the compliment, which disarmed her. It was a transient thought brought to an end by another stroke.

“Ehhhrr,” she growled angrily as she struggled to stay bent over.

“Now, now,” he chided her even as caned her again.

“Ooh ffff… fthank you Sir,” she managed, aware of some wetness on her cheeks.

“You are welcome Miss Johns,” De Mark said, launching into another stroke.

“Aah, uhhhh,” the grunt stayed in her throat for a long drawn out groan and she scrambled to keep hold of her ankles.

“Two more I think. The extras I spoke of,” the Principal said taping her proffered bottom with the cane, an act which made her jump a little in anticipation.

The next stroke sent her up and back down low with an angry growl.

“Do that again and it won’t count and I’ll give you another,” he chided.

She again sucked on air and it was a moment before she managed to say, “Sorry Sir.”

For the last stroke her eyes and mouth flew open in tandem and she crushed her ankles in her hands to ride out the relentless wave of pain.

“Paddle swats from me come in multiples of six starting at 12,” De Mark informed her. “If you are caught sneaking around corridors at night again, that is something that you will truly learn.”

“Yes Sir,” she sniffed.

She was shaking at the knees now and had started to rock back and forth.

“Stand up Miss Johns and repair your dress,” the Principal said archly.

As she eased herself upright her bottom flared up and she was put in mind of her grandmother’s old electric bar fire on a winter’s evening long ago. It felt for all England as if she had sat on it three of four times.

Carrie shot a glance at De Mark and was surprised and glad that he had turned his back while she dressed.

“You deserved that Miss Johns,” he said in a friendly tone.

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” she responded.

It sounded strangely natural on her lips and the only resentment she felt was that she was not angry. As her knickers, or panties as they called them here, slid over her bottom she gave a wince.

“You are welcome Miss Johns,” De Mark said and offered her his hand.

She shook it with a limp hand and blushed.

“Of you go,” he said brightly when she did not move.

She gaped at him and then hastily said, “Yes Sir,” as she went out the door.

The moment Carrie was outside she clamped her hands to her bottom and bobbed up and down with her jaw on her chest. If her colleagues at Interpol could see her now she would never live it down. Then walking as normally as she was able she made her way to the nearest ladies’ and secreted herself inside a booth with a stack of water-soaked paper towels.

Lunch would have to wait, she decided as she lowered her knickers and one by one she pressed the wet paper to her bottom. Twisting this way and that she was able to see eight parallel dark pink lines across her flesh, each one standing proud in smooth ridges.

The things I do for Queen and Country, she mused ruefully, but the traces of her punishment strangely fascinated her somehow.

*

Class followed class and days went by and Carrie was no nearer finding her target.

“Why haven’t you checked out the office?” the Chief barked at her over the forbidden cell-phone.

“I have tried Sir, but… it’s not that easy,” Carrie reported.

She was reluctant to tell him she had got caught. Not least because it would bring her competence into question, but also because she suspected that the Chief would guess her fate.

“Well try again,” the Chief spat at her, “For all we know the bird has already skipped town and you are on a false trail.”

“Why not raid the place and zero in on this woman?” Carrie blurted, then she could skip town too.

But she knew why. They had no real evidence and the most important thing was to track the suspect back to whoever she was working with.

“Just get on with it,” the Chief growled at her, ignoring her question.

“Yes Sir,” she said, rolling her eyes up.

“Cut that out,” the Chief snarled, although he couldn’t see.

He knew her too darn well, Carrie sighed. Despite the Chief’s insistence, she could still feel aching lines on her bottom when she sat and nothing could induce her to go sneaking around the offices for a while.

That left her with a new tack. There were only so many new girls at Colossians and she might make headway by drawing up a list a checking out any girl who might be older than she appeared. Carrie wondered if she might even try sneaking some shots with the camera phone to pass on to the Chief for elimination purposes. The only problem was that she had absolutely no idea where to begin.

After a couple of free periods sitting on the main steps watching for loners and any prospects, she realised it was hopeless. Then she had a break.

It was the first day that she had dared a swim since her caning and was in the communal shower wondering if her marks still showed. Most of the other girls did not seem to mind displaying such evidence and there were plenty of well-paddled bottoms on show; some of them with quite outstanding paddle rash.

“Epic ain’t it?” said a bubbly blonde across the way from her who had seen her looking.

The girl had a quite impressive behind with even more impressive purple spore staining it. She dipped her knees as she spoke and pressed her bottom out for Carrie’s inspection.

“Eh… yes,” Carrie replied, suddenly embarrassed.

“Hey, you’re English,” the girl gushed, “That’s neat.”

“Carrie Johns,” Carrie said awkwardly.

It was more than strange offering a naked woman her hand.

“Casey, Casey Clark,” the girl continued to gush.

After several minutes chatter about where they had come from and what they wanted from the course in which Carrie did a mental exchange-and-find to replace key facts to feed the girl her Interpol interview spiel, the undercover cop asked what Casey had done to deserve such a shellacking.

“Oh that, I am always getting it,” she said dismissively, then added in a bright sarcastic tone, “Just luck, I guess.”

Carrie was about to accept that as the usual evasion when Casey continued.

“I got caught sneaking some chocolate from the student storage rooms. Well it was mine. I can usually manage it just fine but… I guess… well it’s an occupational hazard of being the Colossians Cat,” she said enthusiastically. “Oh it’s alright; I get spanked all the time at home. At least here they don’t have corner time.”

Casey rolled her eyes up at the last words in a way that reminded Carrie of someone. The chocolate craving touched a nerve too. It was one of a long list of goodies, like mobile phones, that were forbidden and put in storage at the start of each semester. But that wasn’t what intrigued Carrie the most just then.

“The Colossians Cat?” Carrie was impressed that the girl managed to get into student storage at all, it was quite a challenge compared with the office area; Carrie knew – she had tried.

“Oh it’s just a private joke. I can sneak into just about anywhere, you know” Casey beamed.

“What about the principal’s office and the admin area?” Carrie said casually.

“Oh sure that’s easy,” Casey grinned, “Too easy. Why? Do you want to alter some grades or check on someone else’s?”

“No…” Carrie said slowly, “Not exactly, but… eh maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement.”

It was too dangerous to talk in the showers, even with the sound of running water, so both girls slipped away to Casey’s room.

The small spanked blonde was strangely lacking in curiosity about Carrie’s request and agreed to it with a shrug.

“That is, if you can do something for me,” Casey sounded doubtful and perched herself expectantly, and not to say carefully, on her bed.

“No problem,” Carrie said eagerly, this was the breakthrough she needed.

“You might want to hear what I need first,” Casey looked decidedly shifty.

“If I can do it I will,” Carrie said in a determined voice.

After all she was a detective and whatever Casey wanted couldn’t be that big a deal.

“I have been busted way too many times this semester,” Casey began, “Not that I can’t handle my own lickings mind you, but… well the folks told me that if I get busted one more time then I can expect hell when I get home. You got to understand that I got some serious spanking and corner time coming anyway so when they say hell, well… let’s just say that last summer I got corner time at a family barbecue for… well that was just for starters and it is way too em-bara-sing!”

Casey rolled her eyes up again.

“So what do you want me to do?” Carrie was puzzled.

“Well,” Casey drawled, “I already got in a fix. Something the folks don’t know about, only…”

Carrie frowned; she wasn’t sure where this was going.

“This time I signed out a book and forgot to take it back… if someone else were to… well admit they took it and took the paddling, well then I would just get off with an ear-burning for not signing it back and the folks wouldn’t hear about it.” Casey didn’t look up as she spoke.

“I see,” Carrie sighed. “You want me to fess up on your behalf.”

Casey nodded.

“Maybe you’ll get off light as you haven’t done it before. I have the book,” Casey said eagerly.

Returning a book late was surely nothing to get paddled for, Carrie reasoned and besides, what choice did she have?

“Okay, give me the book, but I need the information first,” Carrie reluctantly agreed, adding sharply, “Tonight.”

“Not a problimo girlfriend,” Casey grinned.

*

It was insane, Carrie cursed herself, she wasn’t going to let some random member of staff paddle her for no reason. But then she reasoned, with any luck this would all be settled before she had to. Although at the back of her mind she wondered what would happen to Casey if she reneged on her deal just because she was a cop.

The girl had given her nine names for new students in the available time. One of those was in a wheelchair with other issues and another, Carrie knew vaguely, was immature for 18 and even had braces. There was no way either of them was the person she was looking for. That left her with seven suspects.

One by one she tracked them down by cross-referencing class lists and waiting by pigeon holes. In one case she even volunteered to deliver pamphlets to a hall residence to observe another suspect. However, with only one more to go, she had seen no one who remotely fitted the bill and was beginning to suspect that either she was on a wild goose chase or wheelchair and braces were very good actors.

“Harrumph-hum,” said someone beside her as she was leaving the residents’ hall.

Carrie turned to see a young 30-something woman in a plaid skirt and designer glasses. The woman, obviously a member of the faculty had her dark hair neatly tied up and piled atop of her head and she was regarding Carrie with a hard and serious gaze.

Carrie was in a hurry to find the last suspect and greeted the woman with a double rise of her eyebrows.

“Are you Carrie Johns?” the woman asked sternly.

“Eh, yes. Who… I mean, I am sorry Ma’am but…” Carrie shook her head in puzzlement.

“You have an unsigned-for book,” the woman pressed her. “Casey Clark said…”

The woman’s gaze fell on the book that was still under Carrie’s arm.

“I am the librarian, Mrs Sandhill,” the woman added impatiently.

“Oh… oh yes, I have it here. I am so sorry about the misunderstanding. I completely forgot to sign it out and… well I didn’t mean to get Casey into trouble,” Carrie said, fluttering her eyes as she offered Mrs Sandhill the book.

The Librarian took it and then looked Carrie up and down just as the secret police woman looked impatiently away for her prey.

“I am sorry, but that is just not good enough,” Mrs Sandhill blustered. “You know the rules.”

“Do I?” Carrie said still looking off to the left to study each passing face.

“Come with me,” Sandhill snapped, “Come with me right now.”

“I…” Carrie pointed impotently in the other direction.

“Unless you wish to see the Principal,” the woman said in a hard voice pointing more firmly the other way.

“Very well,” Carrie said in a bored voice and went where she was directed.

*

“Uh,” Carrie yelled as the paddle seared her rear end.

It was hard to hold position, even with her hands flat to the wall like they were. Her skirt was tucked up and her knickers, panties as the Sandhill woman had it, were stretched between Carrie’s slightly parted ankles.

The Librarian had wasted no time in having Carrie bend over to offer her bare bottom for 12 stiff paddle swats.

After the growing and rapidly unbearable sting, the worse thing was that she was being spanked in the semi-public outer office area of the library where two other library assistants and at least one other student had be on hand to see.

“Your attitude is appalling and your failure to sign out a valuable book will go on your record and be included in your end of semester report,” Mrs Sandhill scolded as she let fly with another swat.

“Yes Ma’am,” Carrie grunted through gritted teeth.

“Yes ma’am,” Sandhill mimicked with another swat, and then with another she repeated, “Yes ma’am.”

By the end of the paddling Carrie was puffing like a steam train and thoroughly sorry for everything she had done, hadn’t done or was ever going to even contemplate.

“Now get out of my sight,” the Librarian growled after almost grudgingly taking Carrie’s reluctantly offered handshake.

“Yes Ma’am,” Carrie sniffed as she wiped away a tear.

Out on the library steps Carrie was just weighing up the relative merits and personal preferences of the paddle as compared to the cane when she saw her.

The woman was tallish and elegant with long well-groomed black hair. The cream band that set off her tresses matched the sash at her model-like wasp-waist in a way that no gauche 18-21-year-old could carry off. Yet she was certainly no member of faculty, she even had a student name badge and a prospectus held neatly under one arm. And despite being the picture of a college student straight out of central casting, Carrie’s expert eye put her at around 28.

Forgetting the throb in her bottom, Carrie casually strolled after her until she was close enough to see the name on the badge. Helena Weir, it ran, the last name on her very short list.

*

Principal De Mark stood glaring at the two women in his office. One, the sassy English girl, stood with an attitude he did not like in a student with the aggressive body language of the cop she claimed to be. The other girl who was sitting bold as you please like butter could not melt in August was a criminal deceiver of all things. He had been duped and he did not like it one bit.

The Chief stood between the two women assuring him that Carrie Johns was indeed with Interpol and that Helena Weir, which was probably not her real name, was a suspect in a criminal conspiracy he would rather not explain just then.

“I have no idea what this is all about, really I don’t,” Helena complained in trim Bostonian tones.

“Hell, of course you don’t,” the Chief drawled.

Principal De Mark cocked a disapproving eye at the Chief’s swearing in front of two students, which was how he was forced to still see them, but decided that for once that the broad grizzled-haired policeman was more than his match and let it go.

Helena sucked in her cheeks pensively and looked away as if considering something.

“Run the whole story by me again DC Johns, for the benefit of the Principal and Miss ‘I have no idea,’” the Chief yawned.

Carrie had explained everything over the phone while the Chief was in transit. The only omissions made were the full extent of her part of the bargain with Casey and the previous consequences of her earlier failures. This time she repeated the story without mentioning the Clark girl’s part in it.

“So Miss Johns and this… this Weir person have been here for weeks under false pretences?” De Mark was fuming.

Real pretences surely, Carrie pondered, but thought better of passing a comment.

“I tell you I have no idea…” Weir began again.

“Miss Weir, you are already in enough trouble, I suggest you be quiet. Do you think I do not know when a girl is lying? I suspect it is a talent that the Chief here shares,” De Mark’s tone cut to Carrie’s quick even though it wasn’t directed at her.

One look at Weir was enough to see that Helena was quailed by him.

“Look I… I haven’t done anything…”  Helena protested.

“Then you maintain that you are a student?” De Mark demanded.

“Yes Sir,” Helena spluttered.

“Well I can see you are lying about something so…” De Mark picked up a long heavy paddle with drilled holes and hefted it. “Assume the position Miss Weir, over the back of the chair I think, you’ll need the support.”

Helena swallowed and shot a glance at the Chief with eyes that seemed to say, ‘you aren’t going to let him are you?’

The Chief shrugged. It was irregular to be sure, but given Alabama law and the fact that Weir was a consenting adult and claimed to be a student, the Principal was within his rights.

“Miss Weir,” De Mark barked.

Helena pouted a little and then gave a dismissive shrug of her own and did as she had been directed.

Carrie threw the Chief a look, but although she felt she ought to stop it this damn woman had been the cause of a lot of bottom pain and embarrassment. If she wanted to tough it out then it was up to her.

Helena made one more appeal with her eyes in the direction of the Chief and then with one more look of scorn at Carrie the woman hiked up her skirt and tugged her knickers down as went over the back of the chair.

The Chief was clearly appreciative of the impressive bottom on display and even Carrie had to gape a little. But the Principal was unmoved as he positioned himself to deliver the first swat.

The paddle was heavier than any Carrie had yet seen and carried two dozen finger-sized holes on its striking surface. She had heard of such a thing, the more hardened girls called it the beast and the others dared not speak of it at all.

The first swat landed with a dull thwack and Helena immediately reacted. In its wake the paddle left perfect stark white trace complete with pink circles on her smooth tanned bottom. Then as Carrie watched the pale flesh flooded with ever darkening pink as the skin began to rise in a welt.

It was on this tender spot that De Mark landed another swat to extract an angry grunt from Helena.

“Any time you want to admit that you are not a student I’ll let the Chief here handle things,” the Principal sounded cross.

“Oh don’t mind me,” the Chief chuckled.

“Uhm,” Helena grunted as she was spanked again.

Her bottom was beginning to look interesting now Carrie thought with a grin.

After four or five more swats Helena was rasping down air and clawing at the back of the chair. Carrie shifted her position so that she could see that the woman’s face was now damp with tears.

“I am a student,” Helena gasped, her eyes fixed on a single point, “Helena Weir is my real name. So it’s legal yah. You can’t get me on that.”

Carrie noticed that Boston had vanished from her accent and she was now whining in pure New York.

“Go on,” De Mark growled after another short salvo of swats.

“I-I… I’m just a courier… I swear. I don’t know what this is about,” Helena sobbed, her accent getting thicker by the moment. “I just gotta hang loose until I get’s word.”

De Mark let loose with a tight volley of spanks that had Helena howling in short order.

“Who do you have to meet?” the Chief said quietly.

He indicated to the Principal that he should stop or at least pause a minute.

“I doan know man. I doan know them and they doan know me. I just have to check a certain book in the library every day or so until I get instructions,” Helena sobbed bitterly as well she might given the state of her well-welted behind.

“Damn,” the Chief cursed.

De Mark glared at him.

“Well when I am done paddling you I want you out of here,” he said, and then to the Chief he spat, “Arrest her.”

“You want to resign your place here and come into protective custody?” the Chief said softly. “Of course you’ll have to tell us everything you know.”

“Yes Sir oh yes Sir,” Helena hiccoughed through copious tears.

The Chief pushed De Mark aside and helped the woman down.

“What about her?” the Principal pointed at Carrie.

“She’s not a student here, she’s undercover, so hands off,” the Chief growled.

But all the same he gave Carrie a withering stare. He hadn’t liked the way she had let Casey take the risks; especially as they didn’t know what they up against. Also he thought that Helena could have been taken quietly without involving De Mark. Then he paused.

The Chief took a long hard look at Carrie and smiled.

“Chief, what you thinking Chief?” Carrie didn’t like the look in his eye and suspected that she was way ahead of him.

“The real suspect doesn’t know who you are. They don’t know Helena or her name. She is just a reader of a note in the library,” the Chief mused. “For all they know, you are their contact.”

“But… but, I won’t do it,” Carrie wailed. “I won’t stay in this place one more minute.”

“You will and that’s an order Detective Constable Johns,” he barked.

Carrie rolled her eyes up.

“You do that one more time and I’ll…” the Chief snarled.

“So do I take it that we are to have the pleasure of Miss Johns’ company for the rest of the semester?” the Principal said in a weary voice.

“Oh yes indeed,” the Chief grinned.

Carrie pressed out her bottom lip and groaned.

“Then allow me to assist in her cover,” De Mark said darkly. “I don’t like liars and deceivers no matter which side of the law they claimed to be on.”

As he spoke he again took up the paddle and advanced on Carrie.

The Chief saw his intent and was about to cite ‘assault on an officer,’ but then he remembered Casey again.

“Chief, you can’t…” Carrie wailed.

“It might keep your mind focussed on the job and besides I don’t like how you have handled things. In any case we need a plausible cover for why you came to see the principal here,” the Chief shrugged.

“But…”

Carrie was a picture of woe as the Chief opened the door and summoned two low-key agents to collect Helena.

“Have fun,” the tear bedraggled former courier said bitterly as she left, shooting a glare in Carrie’s direction.

One of the cops eyed Carrie in puzzlement but then he saw her face and the paddle in the principal’s hand and smirked.

“Chief,” Carrie wailed in a pleading voice.

“I would love to stay,” the Chief grinned, “I really would. But I have to debrief this hostile witness so I can bring you up to speed. And you need to get back to normal college life before anyone notices anything amiss.”

As soon as they were gone De Mark tapped the palm of his hand and said; “Now Miss Johns, you saw how I had Miss Weir. Please assume the same position. This time I trust I will be allowed to complete my work.”

Carrie swallowed hard and went ashen. This wasn’t fair, she thought miserably.

*

Carrie just wanted to go somewhere and have a good cry. It was a bottom searing effort just to put one foot oh so carefully in front of the other. To anyone watching she had the appearance of one walking on fragile ice and every step launched a swarm of angry bees in the rounds of her buttocks. Those who saw her slow progress could not doubt that she had been to see the principal for an exemplary paddling.

Worse still was that Principal Martin De Mark had made it quite clear that he resented her infiltration of the school and was not going to make the slightest concession to her case. In fact she felt she was firmly in his sights for some special treatment she did not need.

“You darn Feds can go to hell as far as I am concerned,” he had told her, “And what in heck’s sake is Interpol doing here? Some meddling idea of the UN I don’t wonder. The people of Alabama and Colossians Baptist Ladies College will not kowtow to interlopers.”

His accent had come out proud and strong as he spoke. Carrie could almost sympathise, she would rather be anywhere but here just then. But then had come the paddle and all her sympathy had had to be reserved for herself.

Crossing the quad to her room put Carrie in something of quandary. She was already drawing sniggering glances and the shadows and seclusion of going around by the less visible way offered a salve for her dignity. On the other hand it was a route that was almost twice as far and full of promise of further purgatory for her poor ravaged behind.

“Oh well,” she said ruefully to herself, “At least the opposition is more likely to buy it if I am seen to be…”

She choked on the word spanked and had to fight back the tears. Chin up, old girl. Play up school. Jolly hockey sticks and all that rubbish, she mocked herself. It was time to go deep undercover in plain sight.

The end?



9 Responses to “Carrie Undercover”

  1. 1 paul1510

    Damian,
    the things an undercover cop has to suffer, 😀
    Paul.

  2. 2 Michael

    Nicely done, DJ, and I hope as you hint with your closing “The end?” that there may be more Carrie adventures in college and other places that her Interpol duties may take her.

  3. 3 Svetlana

    What a wonderfully crazy genre mix!

    Favourite bits:

    “You darn Feds can go to hell as far as I am concerned” … It probably takes the advanced theological training of a Baptist principal to understand why “damn” needs to be replaced by “darn” while “go to hell” is quite alright.

    “Returning a book late was surely nothing to get paddled for, Carrie reasoned” … Spanking stories would never work if the characters read as many of them as we do.

    “For some reason she was pleased by the compliment, which disarmed her.” … Funny how you care about the E score even when you detest being spanked as such.

  4. Would love to see this series continue. Great job.

  5. 5 John

    Great story, would like to hear of Carrie’s special treatment from principal Martin De Mark and her continued investigations at the Baptist College.

  6. 6 Ehlane

    I like the principal but dislike the librarian – either you’re not mad any more when the spanking’s over or you keep spanking until that anger has subsided. I don’t see the point in acting like she did. Great story though, reminds me of life in upper secondary school, although I was never spanked, only threatened with it 😀

  7. 7 DJ

    Something different and more of the same 😉

    Thanks for the comments. 🙂

  8. 8 lard51

    good story like to hear more like it

  9. 9 SpankLover

    love spankings


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