Ticked Off


1 1 wrns“Elisabeth Anne Whitfield did not join the WRNS to be consigned to the backside of history,” The haughty brunette made a pout and wrinkled up her nose in disgust.

It did not occur to her that speaking aloud in the third person sounded somewhat arrogant, or at least it never had during the first 25 years of her life. After all her father was an admiral and both her brothers had their own ships for the love of God.

Elisabeth eyed the dilapidated buildings and hastily assembled tin huts with disdain. She had completed her basic, hadn’t she? They had made her an officer, albeit only a Third Officer, somewhat lowly in her opinion. She reread the missive left at her last posting.

“Further training required,” it concluded.

There was a lot of double-talk about attitude and lack of team spirit, but she was streets ahead of the other girls, and she knew it.

Just then a Spitfire roared overhead as it made a dash for the airfield. A trail of smoke told its own story and Elisabeth wondered if the young man would make it. They had won the Battle of Britain, but there was still much more to do.

“I would have thought…” she was about to address herself with the observation that ‘Daddy might have swung her an admiralty job’ when a rather nervous young wren paused in her passing dash to salute her.

The girl was still gaping when a raucous woman screamed an unintelligible order and she hurried on to joining a crowd of hapless wrens across the way.

“You should have returned that salute you know,” said an easy male voice from behind her.

Elisabeth made a slow turn and appraised the young lieutenant coolly. The man’s grin evaporated and he straightened his cap. She shrugged and met his sudden disdain with a full measure of her own.

“Just as you should have saluted me,” the lieutenant prompted her.

Elisabeth rolled her eyes impatiently but then reluctantly came to attention and saluted smartly. The man was barely 30 and much too cocky for her liking. He sounded common, like a grammar school boy, and in peace time she wouldn’t have looked at him twice.

The man saluted her back and relaxed.

“Okay, let’s have it,” he said lightly.

“I beg your pardon,” Elisabeth said sharply.

“You have it,” the man agreed nonchalantly as he reached for a cigarette from his top pocket. “Now perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me your name.”

“For your information I am Elisabeth Whitfield,” she said as if expecting a reaction.

“You’re late,” the man yawned, “And the correct response when reporting is to give your service number, your rank and your surname only. Give it a try.”

Elisabeth gave a heavy sigh and sagged where she stood. She had no idea what her service number was and she couldn’t be bothered to make one up.

“Third Officer Whitfield reporting for duty… sir,” she said indolently.

“You’re the one with the attitude problem,” he sighed, “Just my luck, you’re one of mine.”

“One of yours?” Elisabeth frowned.

“I am Lieutenant Carpenter, your training coordinator and service moderator,” the man told her as he lit up.

A cloud of blue smoke billowed and drifted on the breeze.

“I have had my training,” Elisabeth blurted.

“I have had my training… Sir,” Carpenter corrected her. “And no you haven’t. You passed out as an officer… barely, but you didn’t get any skills and the pool didn’t want you… something about not being a team player and some guff about being an admiral’s daughter.”

“It is not guff, I assure you,” Elisabeth said indignantly, “My father is an admiral and…”

“I don’t care,” Carpenter barked, suddenly seeming more than just a grammar school boy. “I suspect that you got an easy ride. Well not here. Here we have two approaches, the easy way for women who try and need a bit of a shove in the right direction. And the hard way for little navy brats like you who should never have passed out in the first place.”

Elisabeth started and this time thought better of answering back. The frustration of having to kowtow to this little man made her blink rapidly. She remembered that at Dartmouth some of the other girls had a few run-ins with their training captains, what was the expression…?

“If you don’t double over to your quarters, stow your gear and report to my office in 15 minutes, we will start the day with a tick,” the Lieutenant snarled.

Tick; that was it, six of the best, she remembered, only it hadn’t happened to her, no one had dared. This man was bluffing too.

“I just got here, I don’t even know where…” Elisabeth sighed.

“I don’t care, find it, at the double,” Carpenter yelled, “Move.”

“Yes Sir,” Elisabeth snapped back before she could stop herself.

There was an exchange of glares and then his eyes swivelled to his right and she took the hint.


Elisabeth’s quarters were apparently shared with another girl, but at least the obvious blonde she found reading on the next bed knew where Carpenter’s office was.

“Dreamy isn’t he and such a pussycat?” the blonde said absently.

Elisabeth harrumphed.

She found the office two minutes late and knocked.

“Come,” Carpenter called form within.

Elisabeth gave a heavy sigh and indolently stumbled inside.

Carpenter was writing rapidly and didn’t look-up.

“Get out,” he snapped, “And try that again.”

Elisabeth made to protest and then she spotted the little tin-pot tyranny and with bad grace wheeled about and went out. This time when he answered she marched in made a salute and rattled off something resembling her service number and gave her name and rank.

Carpenter let his eyes slide up to meet hers and then slowly stood up.

“These are for you,” he motioned to a pile of books on his desk. “I want the naval ranks and establishment branches memorised… after all you should already know them. The others I just want an outline understanding for now.”

Elisabeth nodded and made to grab them.

“Wait for it,” Carpenter said sharply. “First we have to take our tick, don’t we, Third Officer Whitfield?”

Elisabeth became puzzled and shrugged.

“You were late and the manner of your entrance was…” he searched for a word. He settled on “Unacceptable.”

Elisabeth sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Okay, you know the drill,” Carpenter reached over to a hat rack at his left and amid some umbrellas extracted a long thin stick. “As you know a tick is six with one of these, right where it will do you the most good. A second offence is on the unprotected rear, as is a double tick. You can appeal, but wasting the CO’s time will get you a 30 stroke bare bender, so I wouldn’t try it.”

Elisabeth’s eyes were on stalks as she resisted the instinct to back away.

“Hat off and bend over,” Carpenter ordered. “Oh and by the way, three ticks or double ticks in a week and it’s an automatic high jump up before the CO.”

“You can’t be serious,” Elisabeth gasped.

“You going to appeal already?” Carpenter gaped.

“No but…”

“Then bend over,” Carpenter snapped as he moved behind her.

“B-but…” Elisabeth had heard of this, she knew he was within his rights, but she had never thought…

“If you are not going to appeal the sanction then you are disregarding a direct order. The last brat that tried that got twice 30 on successive days,” Carpenter sighed, “Make up your mind which you are doing but don’t do both.”

Elisabeth sucked in a slow breath and then removed her hat. There was no more instruction and she blushed. It was undignified having to bend over in a skirt and the fabric tightened across her behind.

The cane hissed-thwacked and stung her across the bottom. It took a supreme effort not to stand upright or swear at the man. Then as she contended with the cut that didn’t ease in its sting he caned her again.

“Ah,” she gasped and wiggled.

“Stop that,” he ordered and gave her another stripe.

There were three more at 10 second intervals so that after a minute he was done and she was left foot-stamping and decidedly wet around the eyes.

“Attention,” he barked and she rose, her face a picture of woe.

“Let that be a lesson to you,” he smiled encouragingly, “Report to me at eight tomorrow and I expect you to have read those books. Oh and remember, a CO’s visit goes on your record. If you play ball and learn to be a good sport I can handle any sanctions myself, but only if you’re sensible. Don’t go getting caught doing something stupid.”

“Yes Sir, I mean no Sir,” Elisabeth hissed through her teeth.

Then she was dismissed.


Elisabeth’s mind raced as she made slow awkward steps back to her quarters. How dare he? But he had and he had been fully within his rights. What would Daddy say? Daddy wasn’t going to find out, nobody was. Elisabeth blushed.

Okay so the wretched man had some balls and it looked like she was going to have to smarten herself up a bit with this one. Maybe I have been taking too much for granted, she sighed.

She was still pondering when she found her room.

The blonde was still reading, only by now she had put on some striped pyjamas. The thought of stripes sent Elisabeth’s hand to her bottom. The girl looked up.

“Got a tick did you?” she smiled sympathetically, “I got two last week, four the week before that, two of them double ticks. Adam was kind enough to handle it and we agreed to leave the CO out of it.”

Elisabeth blushed, hating the idea that the situation was so transparent.

“Adam?” she asked to deflect a more embarrassing answer.

“Adam Carpenter, dishy I call him,” the blonde looked wistful. “Oh I’m Clarice, Clarice March,” she offered a hand from her prone position.

“Third Officer Whitfield,” Elisabeth said sourly as she eased her bottom onto the bed. She winced and made to stand again and then heaving a great sigh she added, “Elisabeth.”

“I’ll get a cold flannel,” Clarice said finally moving off the bed.

“It’s not… necessary,” Elisabeth grunted.

But her new friend helped Elisabeth undress. Then once down to her underwear, Clarice led her to lay on her front while she eased Elisabeth’s white undies down over her thighs to reveal six plum ridges marring her tight round white bottom.

“You have had more than… I mean… did he really… you know… cane you on the…?” Elisabeth didn’t know how to ask.

“Bare bum drill, bending right over,” Clarice giggled, “Jolly well hurt too. Goes with the territory I am afraid.” The blonde shrugged.

“I am beginning to get that,” Elisabeth said ruefully.

“Oh you’ll get it alright,” Clarice giggled again.


Elisabeth thought her face would melt. No man had ever seen her naked before, or even half naked as she was. Yet here she was standing in just a tie, blouse and stockings while her precious skirt, knickers and jacket lay neatly folded over a chair in the corner of Adam’s room. She could feel the chill caressing her where it shouldn’t just out of his eye line under the oh-so-short white cotton hem of her service shirt. She couldn’t help tugging down a little in front, even at the cost of an increased rear exposure.

“Late, late to the wrong administration class and then… then you blame the officer in charge,” Carpenter shook his head. “Lucky it was old Stephens or you would be in serious shtick.”

“Sir…does this mean I get a double… you know?” Elisabeth blushed again.

“Damn straight, now bend over,” he growled.

Elisabeth rolled her eyes to heaven and made an about turn. Oh well maybe Adam was kind of a dish, but this was no less embarrassing. She eyed the stuffed leather chair he had placed in the centre of his office. For six on the seat of her skirt she had twice just had to bend over and touch her toes. This offered support was a harbinger of a far stiffer experience

“Bend over I said,” her supervising officer barked, “The chair, get your behind pointing at that ceiling.”

Elisabeth worked her mouth and wondered if it was worth reminding him that she was an admiral’s daughter.

“You don’t have to make it a double you know,” she muttered.

He raised both his eyebrows at once.

“Sir,” she added in a hasty mutter as she again dragged down her shirt in front.

“I’ll make it a double-double in a minute,” he rasped and she balked.

Bending over the chair-back was embarrassing, she was most definitely showing him her bare bottom now; she only hoped that she wasn’t also revealing the rest of the goods.

“Any complaints, appeals or other assorted backchat?” he snarled as he lined up the cane.

“No Sir,” she sighed.

The cane bit her across the lower bared cheek and she hissed. The undignified wiggle was unavoidable and she knew he would add a stroke or two if she persisted. Then the cut really clung on in.

“Nuh,” she grunted.

He caned her again: hard. At 15 second spaces he could make this last six or seven minutes with a few extra cuts. By then of course she would be in a puddle of tears.

“Count them,” he ordered her.

“Two, thank you Sir,” she added cheekily.

He caned her sharply and drew a hiss.

“Was that impudence, make that number one,” he said quietly as he bent low to her ear.

“Yes Sir,” she replied through gritted teeth, “One, thank you Sir.”

“Good girl,” he chuckled, as he caned her again.

He doubted she would keep count so well under the onslaught, but the extras would do her good and she knew it.

“Two thank you Sir,” she squeaked as he lay in the fifth biting stroke.

Elisabeth was gaining a new understanding of navy life, Daddy would be proud yet. She almost smiled as a tear rolled down one cheek. The first of many.

3 Responses to “Ticked Off”

  1. 1 Jimi

    Very enjoyable , thankyou. The caning of Wrens is a very fascinating subject, I wish it was possible to find out definitively just how much is truth and how much fantasy. The main problem I have with many of the supposed punishments is that they were just too severe, fortunately you described perfectly acceptable and credible canings.
    The story was very well constructed and certainly had a ring of truth and realism about it.

  2. 2 MrJ

    Charming story!

  3. 3 Svetlana

    The stories here often include characters like Clarice. I like them a lot. They really help to set the right atmosphere.

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