Part I

The second strap had had the texture of sandpaper, the effect of which was that instead of suffering an overwhelming sting all at once, Janice had to endure a rasping slow burn that got worse and worse until she would have begged for almost any amount of the heavier leather.

“Mr Drayton,” she wailed as the throbbing soreness threatened to overwhelm her.

Drayton stopped and touched her shoulder to comfort her.

“Yes,” he asked gently.

Janice shook her head and sucked it up.

“Nothing Sir,” she said at last. Although getting the words out past her laboured breathing was a chore.

“I think you’re done,” he said lightly.

Janice’s heart leapt and for a moment she thought he meant the punishment was over.

“I am just going to put some more oil on your tender parts before we proceed to the birching, you might find that the active ingredient makes it sting a little bit, but we don’t want you cooling off too much during your corner time do we?” Drayton said in a business-like manner as her sprayed something cold and soothing on her sore bottom.

The oil wasn’t soothing for long and in a few moments there was a burning sensation to rival the rough strapping she had just got.

“Oh God,” she gasped, but part of her embraced the intensity, she had never felt so alive.

*

Standing in the corner while her bottom fizzed and burned took an effort; she wasn’t permitted to rub or ‘jig-about’ as Drayton put it. Worse still what she had thought was a private session was interrupted by a small group of men and women in white coats and notebooks.

“Trainees,” Drayton explained, “They want to inspect your… that is the effects so far.”

The sudden rush of blood to Janice’s face competed for a moment with the heat in her bottom and a healthy tear or two of shame rolled down her face while eager students leaned in close to her behind and even prodded her once or twice there with pencils.

“Okay, you can see the rest through the one-way or on screen,” Drayton scolded paternally as he ushered the trainees out the door. Then to Janice he said, “Don’t worry, it is nothing they haven’t seen before.”

“Not mine they haven’t,” Janice said sullenly.

“What was that?” Drayton growled.

“Nothing sir,” Janice said hastily. Then to change the subject and out of genuine curiosity she asked, “That was quite a few trainees, just how many girls are there like me? I mean…”

“I know what you mean,” Drayton sighed, “You would be surprised, corporate discipline is a growth industry, but they are not all here to become disciplinarians or adjudicators, there are future senior managers just on a fact finding exercise. Most of the rest won’t make the grade anyway.”

“I see,” Janice said thoughtfully.

“You thinking of applying?” Drayton chuckled.

Janice shook her head and snorted in amusement. “No Sir,” she said, “I think we both know which end my bottom is destined to be in this growth industry of yours.”

Drayton laughed. “Is that stoicism or just realism?” he asked.

Janice stole a glance back over her right shoulder and ruefully replied, “I am believer, and I think the new order philosophy will make the world better.”

Drayton ignored her breach of protocol and met her eyes with his. “Sounds like you should apply for the adjudicators programme after all,” he said.

Janice shook her head and turned her nose back to touch the wall. “I may be ambitious but I am no leader. I know my place and despite the…” she winced and made a phantom rubbing gesture over her sore bottom before adding, “…Drawbacks, I like it.”

“Oh come one,” Drayton groaned, “Surely you don’t buy all that neo-patriarchal crap?”

He was clearly old school, she thought, he might even have liberal tendencies. But he was right up to a point.

“Not in the workplace no, I am sure there are women in the corporate world who could wield the rod so to speak, just not me,” she shrugged.

“And out of the workplace?” Drayton asked now curious.

“Sometimes I wish my family were of the new philosophy tendency. I think the NPT have the right idea, at least for young women up to a certain age, but in any case when it comes to home life, I like my men old school and firm with it,” she told him with a hint of pride.

“You some sort of CDD nut?” he teased.

“No I am a neo-pagan actually, but I am interested in LDD,” she confessed.

Drayton nodded and took a fresh look at her raw behind. Whoever sent her down for this for a first mainline offence must have it in for her or…?

“This is a long way beyond LDD surely?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Janice shrugged before adding ruefully, “But I think I earned it. It could have been worse, I could have been fired.”

*

Her position on the bench was stricter this time. She had been folded in an obscene bottom-up foetal position with a harness arrangement binding her thighs tightly in a way that linked them fairly closely to another band around her waist. Her head was no now right down even as her behind was uppermost.

“The birch is a bitch I am afraid,” Drayton said without any discernible regret in his voice.

His attitude towards Janet had changed somewhat now. He was no less sympathetic and he certainly still liked her, but he was less worried about her now and more to the point he was beginning to see her as ‘one of them’ rather than one of their victims.

In fact the more he thought about it there were more and more earnest young women coming his way these days and far fewer of the hedonistic BDSM crowd. He was seeing even less of the nervous overwhelmed types who were just here to escape dismissal, jail, loss of pay, or all of the above. From an attitude point of view Janice certainly didn’t fit into any of these categories. Damn it if the right-wing moralist weren’t winning hearts and minds after all. This had used to be just a bit of fun.

Turning to address Janice’s bare bottom he tapped it with the birch rod. It was a vicious affair and almost a meter long. It was made up of maybe 15 thin smooth twigs less than a centimetre thick and bound at one end by white tape which formed a handle.

He imagined that Janice’s bottom belonged to the Deputy Chairman, Elizabeth Cavendish, his boss’s boss, a hard faced little so-ing-so who believed every word of her moralist crap. She should be here getting hers not some credulous innocent, he thought.

The birch struck down hard with an almost electric hiss. Janice screamed.

It was a sound primeval, robbed of all resistance and guile and Drayton remembered whose bottom he was thrashing. The tenderising process had worked then, he almost laughed as he struck again.

Four strokes in he was able to marvel at the multi-red texture imparted to Janice’s bare bottom. Amid the deep pink were bright tender reds and some burgundy with purple. It certainly looked sore. Janice seemed to think so, she was howling like little girl lost and twice as miserable.

Two more and then pause, he thought, six sets of six, that’s the way.

Continued…