Part I

Annabelle was furious with herself, how could she not guess that the session with Janice Benton was filmed? To make matters worse she had been forced to sit through the replay of her clownish efforts and bad acting while Drayton made comments about her caning style and even how she projected her authority.

Now she stood in his office in just a white blouse and dark brown hold-up stockings with a lace design at the thighs. Meanwhile the adjudicator perused his collection of canes, picking them up one by one to swish them about and test their weight.

“It is usual practice to cane trainees during their first day or so, just to get them acclimatised, so to speak,” Drayton said idly as he settled on a dark brown medium length thin stick. “Looking up the records of your progress I found that you seem to have ducked that experience,” he continued.

Annabelle gulped and tugged the front of her blouse further down in front.

“There was a… um… fire drill just before they got to me,” Annabelle explained hesitantly.

“A false alarm I think,” Drayton said pointedly, “I remember. I checked on that too. Did you know that the sensor that tripped it was the one outside the workshop room you were inducted in, you know, where your colleagues got a little taste of the stick for the first time?”

Annabelle swallowed down an answer and offered a shrug. But her face reddened somewhat and Drayton thought of hands and cookie jars.

“Also there seems to have been a high incidence of in house corrections connected to situations where you were either helpful in finding the culprit, should have been present, but apparently weren’t for some reason or another, or where you were merely a witness…” Drayton let the implication hang on the air while he studied the half nude woman blushing before him.

Her crimson-faced wide-eyed apprehension reinforced his cookie jar analogy and he grinned wolfishly. “You are accustomed to getting away with it aren’t you?” he said.

Annabelle made an air kiss gesture with her lips and looked everywhere but at the adjudicator.

“Suppose,” she muttered.

“I haven’t pulled your psych profile, but your personnel file tells me you are interested in disciplinary procedures, but that you are from money…” he rattled off a few facts that painted a picture of the classic poor little rich girl rebel, but he seemed genuinely impressed by her academic achievements. “Tell me, are you in this for the jolly, or are you one of the new philosophy believers crowd?”

There were actually tears pooling at Annabelle’s eyes now; un-spilled puddles that were leaning towards red-rimmed lakes. Getting caught was unfamiliar enough and now she was being forced to confront herself.

“I…” she closed her mouth to a firm line and looked away again, “I have always been, you know, kind of fascinated by… well anything to do with… punishment and spanking…” But then she toughed up and half rounded on him eagerly, “But I get the politics too, I mean the whole social reform gig, it makes sense doesn’t it?”

“I’ll take your word for the latter point, as to your fascination, are you more drawn to giving or receiving?” he asked.

As he spoke he let the cane relax in his hand and sat back onto his desk while he studied her.

Annabelle made her non-committal pout again and tugged even harder on her blouse front to cover her nudity. She shrugged. “Handing it out, I guess,” she muttered.

“Is that what you think about most when you are alone?” he pressed her.

She blushed furiously at the implication and whispered, “About the same.”

“You’re scared to try it, aren’t you, scared of the pain and that you won’t like it?” he sighed, he had her measure now. “You aren’t supposed to like it, not in the moment anyway.”

“I know,” she whispered, “But I am not scared I won’t like it, not exactly, I’m scared…”

The whole bag of coins dropped and he might have slapped his forehead. “You are scared you will?” he accused.

She nodded and fixed her gaze on the floor.

“Well Annabelle you have a choice to make now,” he told her as he stood up.

She flinched and backed up.

“We can make this official or I can keep this between you, me and your supervisor,” he offered. “I mean carrying out an unauthorised caning will get you binned here and the penalties are…” he winced.

Annabelle dragged air into her lungs and then reluctantly let it all escape into the space between them.

“You know this had to happen sooner or later, getting a punishment I mean?” he said kindly.

He wanted to be pissed off at her, what she had done to Janice was beyond the pale, but no real harm had been done and he felt kind of sorry for this lost not so little girl.

She nodded and strained her brains for an out. There must be something she could say that would make all of this go away; some lie or stratagem, there always had been before. But the tear that escaped her eye to roll down her cheek was way ahead of her.

It was time to help her out and pull away the plaster she had so long protected herself with. “Turn around and face that wall,” he growled, “I want those hands on your head and you thinking about what you have coming.”

Annabelle gaped and made to speak. She wasn’t ready; she hadn’t finished thinking her way out…

“Do it now,” he barked.

Annabelle jumped to obey, mortified that her blouse was no raised in back and that he could see her bare bottom.

“In about 30 minutes or so I am going to thrash your backside for you,” he rasped. “You’ll get at least what Janice had and I am going to make sure you don’t enjoy it.”

“Yes Mr Drayton,” she breathed.

“Then, then we are going to review your behaviour since your arrival here, I have a feeling that you have a lot to answer for,” Drayton told her. “That is, if you consent to me handling your training from here on?”

Annabelle nodded. This was a man she could respect and taking this to her training officer meant more people would be in the loop about what she did.

*

Annabelle felt somewhat precarious kneeling on the bench, as if she might topple. The sensation encouraged her to bend forward more and hug into the leather support on the far side of the frame. No doubt that this was what Drayton had intended because this reaction caused her bare bottom to elevate and offer itself as a tightly divided rounded sphere.

“Undignified isn’t it?” Drayton commented.

Annabelle’s face burst with heat at him nailing it, although she would have added, embarrassing, mortifying, vulnerable…

The cane stroke came in three parts. The dull thwack ending in a sting took her by surprise and knock the breath from her in a hiss, but didn’t hurt as much as she… then a beat after impact this thought was robbed as a slice of pain cut her like a knife. The third part took a while as she processed the first stroke with in wide-eyed shock. The sting trilled in her bottom like some incessant bell; a chime that lingered and grew in intensity before it faded.

“Oh fff-flip,” she groaned.

“Ready for another?” Drayton asked casually.

Annabelle shook her head rapidly as she clung to the bench for dear life.

“Too bad,” he countered and caned her again.

“Oooh-wooo-whoo,” she squealed, following up this with an angry growl.

“Everyone is attuned to the cane differently, you didn’t get that judging from the way you caned Janice,” Drayton told her. “You need to step into the stroke like this and flick your wrist as you do.”

He demonstrated and she duly blurted out her bitter appreciation.

“The timing is set by you to some extent, for instance I think that a stroke every five or six seconds is optimum for you to appreciate an impact before adding another,” he said carefully before adding another stroke.

Annabelle barked and descended into freefall breathing.

“I didn’t count the strokes you gave Janice, but you promised 12,” he continued as he struck again. “But I know damn well you gave her more than that.”

“Sorry,” Annabelle wailed as she nodded frantically in agreement. Just then she passionately believed everything he said.

“Let us assume you gave her four over,” he intoned as he caned her again.

Annabelle yelped and honked out a sob.

“I’ll double that and give you a total of 20,” Drayton said as he put a stoke in hard and tight right where she sat. “Does that sound fair?”

“Oh please,” she sobbed.

“Twenty 21 then,” he compromised upward. “Fair?”

“Yes, oh yes,” Annabelle sniffed.

“Say ‘please give me 21 strokes across my bare bottom as I deserve,’” he caned her again and she yelled out.

“Wh-what?” she sobbed.

“Twenty two then,” he growled adding to her ever receding target.

“Please give me 21 strokes on my bottom,” she blurted.

“As I deserve, and its 22 now unless…”

“Please give 22 strokes on my bare bottom like I deserve,” she wailed. Her breathing was in harmony with her sobs now.

“Very well,” he said caning her again and then after a pause once more.

Annabelle mewled miserably and had trouble holding position.

“When we are done you are going to go to the corner to display your pretty stripes for… oh, shall we say… until lights out?” he said evilly.

She nodded in rapid agreement; anything he said, especially if it implied her caning was over soon.

“Unless you need your supper tonight, the canteen is used to seeing post-punished girls, you could go sans culottes and show off yours stripes,” he teased.

“N-n-no, corner p-please,” Annabelle wept eagerly, she wasn’t hungry anyway, not just then or any time soon.

Drayton noted with amusement that she had let her legs part a little despite his instruction and usual good practice.

“You were telling the truth then, you do enjoy this somewhat,” he chuckled as he noted her modest arousal.

Annabelle clapped her legs shut and wanted to die of shame.

“I can activate the cameras in your suite,” he said thoughtfully, “Monitoring extra corner time in your room the next time you cross me might be useful. Also I think we may need to curtail your urge to um… well, indulge your libido, shall we say. After all I think we have established you need to be punished.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes like a wild pony and fought down the panic. The embarrassment was acute, but what he was suggesting was an abyss of… she had over a month of training yet… almost six weeks!

“Please, please Mr Drayton, I’ll do anything you want, I know I deserve it but…” she begged.

“I’ll think about it,” he said slightly mollified, “But I warn you if you stay under my guidance, if your supervisor allows it; I am going to restart your training, all three months of it and you will be under my very close scrutiny, do you understand?”

Annabelle sniffed and nodded frantically, although she was feeling anything but positive.

“We are going to find out which side of the cane you really belong,” he told her gently. “If you truly have a talent for dishing it out, then we will see about extra training in that direction. If not I’ll have you transferred to the harshest bottom bashing bastard I can find in Alpha Corp just for your audacity, do you understand me?”

Annabelle gaped bug-eyed into the floor as she realised she was riding the tiger. But as the caning hadn’t finished she had more immediate problems.

“Aieeee,” was the sum total of her reply.

*

That Monday morning Janice could still feel the effects of her encounter with Drayton and she certainly wasn’t looking forward to sitting at her desk. But at least evidence of her weekend didn’t show, she thought as she entered the office, not judging from the way people weren’t staring.

Not that anyone was ready to forget how she had been spanked in front of everyone, least of all Janice herself. She blushed.

It felt over, but she knew that it wasn’t. There was still that pesky third element to her punishment and she had a feeling the worst was yet to come. That trepidation was enhanced by the sight of two envelopes on her desk.

“Oh shit,” she muttered under her breath, one was clearly from the institute.

She tore it open and scanned it twice and then sat down hard as she forgot.

“Yah,” she gasped and jetted back to her feet, grabbing her rear end.

The final part of her punishment, she read, consisted of no less than three and no more than seven randomly selected occurrences. At least one of which would consist of a revisit to the institute and one an inherently embarrassing spanking in the same vein as her office spanking: The number and type of corrections would be selected by computer. Janice gulped.

For a long, long minute she thought about the appeal form in her bag before taking it out. Then in a slow deliberate act she tore it into four rough pieces and tossed it into the bin.

It would be good to see Drayton again, even if he left her unable to sit down for a month or two. She could only pray that the humiliation would just be the once, but if not… she shrugged.

Finally at peace she was more casual with the other letter.

“Dear Ms Benton,” it read, “Your improved attitude and commitment to our corporate philosophy has been noted. Despite your recent errors of judgement we feel that you have what it takes for significant preferment. Assuming that you complete your punishment as directed, in due course we will invite you to apply to the parent company, Alpha Corp as an executive trainee on an enhanced salary. Nothing more is required of you at this time and human resources will contact you for an appointment in due course.”

Janice re-read the signature and felt her heart pump, “Oh my God,” she said excitedly and after bouncing up and down for a moment dropped heavily into her seat.

All heads turned as Janice Benton yelled out as she did a kind of hopping dance while clutching her bottom. It sounded as if she had sat on a tack and was in pain, but for some reason she was smiling. The woman was crazy.

The end for now.