Stephen
“It couldn’t be… and yet for a brief moment I thought it was. The girl
I had dreamed about…the girl that had figured in my every erotic
fantasy.
At school she had been head girl; three years above me and probably a
million light years away from ever looking my way. Head girls don’t
talk to lowly 5th. Graders, I wonder if in fact if they ever see them?
Not that I am not worthy of a look. Even though I would never say it
through modesty, I am good looking although only five feet eight inches
tall. I have a slim athletic body, good bone structure with brown eyes
and straight thick dark brown hair. I think I was popular with the
girl’s because somehow they felt I was non-threatening and could be
handled easily.
At school I always seemed to be the first choice when circumstance
dictated that the girl did the asking… always first on the party list…
first to be asked by the pretty and flirtatious faces of the girls in
my year… “Come and sit with us”… “There’s room here”, “You going to the
dance, Steve?” etc. I rarely refused an invitation and enjoyed my
popularity, but the Holy Grail in the personage of Debbie Pearson… was
always out of my reach.
It’s been a year since I left school and started my accountancy
training and she was still on my mind. Instantly recognizable! The same
beautiful natural ash blonde hair, tied neatly back with a subtle tiny
black bow. Her face, still as neatly featured as I had remembered, with
those wonderful green eyes, the colour and the depth of the world’s
most exquisite emeralds. Her teeth the same perfect white, framed by
the most exquisite lips. Her figure, slender and lithe, with
wonderfully firm breasts, narrow waist and perfectly proportioned
tanned legs that seem to go on forever. I remembered all this and yet I
had seen her, or thought I had seen her, for a mere instance… just a
glimpse as she was reflected many times before becoming a pale image in
the heavy toughened glass of the security counter.
I felt the blood rush to my face. I wanted to flee, to run away… nearly
an adult of nineteen years old… and I really wanted to run.
Surely it could not be!
That she worked here?
I shivered, feeling my cheeks burn and my throat constrict. I could
not, simply could not, endure the shame if it were true. I collected my
senses. Of course it was an illusion… a mere culmination of my trauma
of the morning. Of course that was exactly what it was!
The court had been as bad as I had feared. I was spared nothing, nor I
admit had I deserved to have been.
Driving with in excess of 20mg. of alcohol in breath.
Statute 20/92 of The Driving Code.
Made law on October 23 2015. ‘Any person found in charge of a vehicle
with…’
I had read the charge through many times as I sat in the waiting room.
Basically since October, one bottle of beer would put an average weight
man near the limit that he could legally drive a car. The new limit had
been in operation for four days when I had been caught by the two
female police officers in the police car.
I could think of no mitigation to offer the court. Eventually I was
called. The attractive female court official, her expression, neither
condemning nor sympathetic, had ushered me into the courtroom. The
three female district judges bade me stand up while the prosecuting
lawyer read the charge. I watched her walk towards the middle of the
court so that she could point to me and still face the panelled dais
where the judges sat, their ornate wooden benches, hiding all but their
heads and shoulders.
“Stephen Woodrow Ryder. You have been charged with driving with in
excess of 20mg. of alcohol in breath. How do you plead?”
I had looked at the judges. The middle of the three, probably thirty
five years old; her suit immaculately tailored, her hair swept back
into a neat bun, looked at me questioningly as I stood before the
court, shamefaced and trembling.
“Guilty, Ma’am”
The lady to her right, her black hair shining under the strong lights,
had pursed her red lips into a thoughtful expression before speaking.
“You have no legal representation; do you wish the court to appoint
someone?”
I managed to stammer a reply.
I am guilty er Ma’am.. er I have no er… defence.”
She looked me in the eye.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I have nothing to say Ma’am.”
“You are not even sorry?” Her sardonic expression was accented by one
beautiful eyebrow raised quizzically as she questioned me.
I stammered, like the fool I felt. “Oh no, Ma’am… I er… mean I am most
dreadfully sorry. I deserve to be guilty…er I mean I am guilty and most
dreadfully sorry.” I could not stop myself. I felt tears well up in my
eyes. I er only had a mile to go… er and the road is always deserted at
that time of night… and I drove so slowly er that the police car
stopped me…” I could not stop my tears flowing as I rambled on.
“I mean to say… I was a fool… er an inconsiderate stupid, stupid fool.
I had no thought for the consequences or who I might have harmed…and no
one to blame but myself. I am so, so, so sorry Ma’am.”
I stood silent, I had been a fool and I knew it. I could not help my
tears I looked down at my feet and waited for the worst, hearing only
the clackety clack from the machine of the court stenographer.
The Lady who was sat at the other side of the senior judge had looked
at me long and hard while I had been questioned. She was probably in
her late forties and although attractive, looked as if she did not
suffer fools gladly.
I did not raise my head again to see them leave; I looked to my side,
my attention drawn by a gentle tug on my sleeve. It was the court
officer who had first led me in. She had a kindly and concerned
expression on her face. I was too upset to appreciate the nuance of her
look as she whispered to me. “You may sit while the judges consider
their verdict.”
I can’t remember how long I waited. I could not stop crying, I
considered what would have happed… had I run someone over… or hit
another car… all the possible outcomes of driving when one’s reactions
are slowed.
I was not privy to the deliberations behind the large wooden door that
led off from the back of the judge’s benches.
*
Constance Hartman
She had known, as soon as she saw him, what his fate would be. For
Constance, his young good looks and slim well-proportioned body were
all too few and far between in her courtroom. Constance had been a
senior judge in the newly termed, ‘Young Offenders Court’, for five
years. She had served the bench well, enjoying the stature of her
worthwhile profession and taking pride in her quality decisions
regarding the future of her young offenders.
It had been the introduction of the ‘Punishment Centers’ that had made
her see a side to herself that she had never in her wildest dreams
thought that she had possessed.
She had felt guilty at the thrill that had run through her body the
first time that they had all been invited to a model and experimental
Punishment Center in another state.
She had not dared look at her fellow justices as she had watched a
naked teenager being soundly strapped by a woman police officer. The
image had played constantly on her mind… and even in her sexually
oriented dreams. It had been a source of excitement to her. The model
center had quickly found that the effectiveness of the center was
increased by the use of all female personnel. The shame and humiliation
of the youth was increased to such an extent that many of the more
persistent law breakers rarely visited twice.
For the state the financial benefits had been extraordinarily good.
Instead of the cost of hundreds of staff to administer probation or run
boot camps, thirty or so young women could process up to five offenders
a day. If too many turned up at one time they were left in the basement
cells until they could be dealt with. The whole process of court to
punishment was done in private and therefore, a one time offender,
could be sentenced, take his punishment and have none of his friends or
employers know that he had committed any crime. This was one of the
reasons that offenders were given twenty-eight days to attend.
When the centers had opened within her own jurisdiction, she had been
one of the first to sentence a young offender to its corporal methods
of punishment.
She had quickly discovered that her delight was heightened only by the
good-looking young boys as they were being punished.
Unfortunately the sentenced youth could attend at anytime within a
twenty-eight day period and as such her visits were often filled with
disappointment. It was only as she became on personal terms with some
of the staff at certain centers that they would quietly and with
discretion let her know who had arrived; or rather what the young boy…
or sometimes girl looked like.
She stifled her imagination as she looked at her fellow judges. She was
quite sure that as senior judge her recommendations would be well
heeded. Better than that, she knew that she was quite adept at sowing
the seeds for someone else to make the right decision. Constance also
had certain knowledge, although the subject was never broached… that
her fellow justices also took a keen delight in the strapping of a good
looking young boy.
“Well he is pleading guilty; without representation he is at the mercy
of the court, which is a foolhardy action, brought about I believe,
because he is full of remorse and intends to not make the same mistake
again.” She paused. “I really do believe that he is full of remorse.”
“Well there is not a lot we can do. I suppose that it is no excuse that
the limit has only been dropped for four days. I suppose he will be
about the first to be prosecuted under the new limits.”
“But only one milligram over it, if he had waited and had the sample
taken in blood, he would have been clear.”
“I know, the arresting officer has stated that he waived his right to
wait for a doctor and a blood sample, it says he was full of self-guilt
and just kept saying he was sorry… but now we have to decide… the
options aren’t many.”
Constance looked at her companions.
“Well there aren’t any really. I obviously won’t send him to jail of
course, and the probation services are stretched to capacity and are
taking on no more new cases, so there is only the punishment center. If
we defer it to the next sessions, they will want to know why… and what
can we tell them… that he was utterly contrite?”
“I know… it just seems unfair… that we get belligerent, obvious diehard
drinkers that get caught on their thousandth journey, having got away
with it time and time again… and of course they will use every ruse...
including of course delaying things for as long as possible by waiting
for a doctor, whom they hope will be on another call…oh well.”
Constance read the pre-court report as she pretended to consider what
to do. “He is a very unfortunate young man. He lost both parents in a
car accident last year and has been living in an apartment by himself
since then. He has no record of any kind and seems to be quite a
responsible young man, apart from this.”
The dark haired judge spoke, her voice low and thoughtful. “Yes it must
have been a traumatic year for him, since he lost his parents… and yet
he has kept to his work and has not gone off the rails.”
She looked pensive for a moment and then spoke again.
“There is one thing… if we were to send him to the one center we all
know… if you get my meaning, We could make sure that… well at least
afterwards, he would get… well, erm… more looked after… urm less
traumatic… do you both think.”
The senior judge looked at her companion, a smile spreading across her
face. “Sometimes Kate, I think you are heaven sent for this court. Yes
of course…all agreed? I will just change the form from any center to
Center No. 19”
*
Stephen
I felt a gentle hand on my arm, bidding me to stand up. I did not see
the kindly look upon officer’s face as I stood with shaking legs, as
the judges re-entered the court.
I stood as straight as I could, I tried looking at the three female
judges and then my cowardice took over and I hung my head in shame.
“Stephen Woodrow Ryder.” I looked up as the clear voice of the senior
judge addressed me. “You are sentenced to attend a punishment center,
during the next twenty eight days. You must attend within this period
or you will be arrested and appear before me on a far more serious
charge, which will result in your loss of freedom for a considerable
period of time. You will also not be allowed to drive a motor vehicle
for a period of nine months from this date and you will be bound over
for two years. Do you understand?”
I managed to look at her as I answered. I could not help the trembling
of my voice as I almost sobbed my reply.
“Yes Ma’am, thank you Ma’am… I am er.. most sorry for my stupidity
Ma’am.”
I hung my head as I heard the prosecuting lawyer speak in a loud voice.
“Court is adjourned”
I heard the court officer whisper to me as the judges filed out. “Come
with me and I will give you your forms. Her voice was kindly and for
the life of me I couldn’t understand why.
The punishment centers had been existence for over a year now and had
been designed for a variety of crimes, vandalism, joyriding, petty
theft and drink driving. They were specifically designed for the
juvenile male although on odd occasions, for severe or repeat offences
girls had been sentenced to attend. I knew very little about them and
anecdotal hearsay of what punishment, punishment centers actually doled
out, was a closely guarded secret. Offenders who had actually visited
the centers were not allowed to say what the punishments consisted of
for fear of being immediately arrested for contempt of court; and the
government had banned newspapers from speculating on what the
punishments might be… or reporting hearsay from offenders. All that was
known was that they were an effective method of curbing adolescent
crime and that there were very few repeat offences.
I sat at the desk in front of the young court officer, my eyes were
still full of tears and I still could not repress the odd sob of deep
regret as I waited. I noticed that she had taken off her uniformed
jacket and was wearing a white shirt. Her breasts seemed firm as they
pressed against the crisp white material as she leaned towards me.
After she had finished sifting the forms and putting them in order she
spoke. “If you will sign these. Please”
She handed me a sheaf of forms, which I signed without reading. She
took them from me, her slender fingers shuffling the papers into a neat
pile before handing me the top copy.
“Take this with you… you are to attend Center 19 any time within the
next twenty eight days.” I felt sure that she gave me a look of
kindness and sympathy as I got up and turned to leave. On impulse I
turned back to her. I looked at the soft expression of sympathy upon
her face and although I was near to tears again I managed to stammer.
“Thank you for your help er.. Miss, I am so sorry to have caused so
much trouble.”
*
Constance picked up the telephone as she smiled conspiratorially at her
fellow judges. “I think a telephone call would be more judicious than a
note… don’t your think.” She laughed at her own pun as she dialled the
number.
“Martha… oh good… and you? Yes the same! Yes we have had a young man in
this morning. I don’t want to influence you in any way… and I know the
punishment is statutory; but I would ask you to let everyone read the
court report.”
Constance listened for a short while and then spoke again. “Oh yes… if
it had been for more severity I would have put a recommendation on the
form.”
She listened again for a few moments and then spoke softly. “Yes… I had
not immediately thought of that. Yes I know it could be short notice…
but if we are free we will certainly attend. I think that he is so
contrite that it might even be today, its still early enough… before
twelve isn’t it?”
She listened once more and then thanked the woman on the other end of
the phone.
*
I was determined that I should get this whole sorry mess over and done
with. I returned to my apartment and showered thoroughly. Changing into
clean clothes, I looked for the address on the form. Offenders must
attend BEFORE twelve noon. You may be detained overnight. You may bring
any medicines that have been properly subscribed. You may NOT bring
luggage. Forty minutes later I was on my way. The cab dropped me off
one street away, somehow I think the driver suspected where I was
heading, but I walked quickly into a florist shop and waited until he
had departed before making my way to Number 26/28 Arlett Street.
The building looked like every other government office on the street.
It did not have a sign other than its number, etched discreetly into a
brushed chromium plaque set into the wall beside the glass door. The
door was framed in stainless steel with a broad bar across the front of
the glass. The glass of the door matched the windows, with its opaque
smoked glass, guarding the view of the interior from the street.
So here I was waiting at the business-like counter of Punishment Center
19. The glass that had portrayed my apparition of Debbie Pearson,
separated me from the young girl who spoke into the microphone on her
side of the glass.. “Can I help you?” Her voice sounded strangely
neutral through the small speaker that must have been concealed
somewhere in the counter surface.
“Er my name is Steve.. er Stephen Ryder, I have to report here within
erm.. er twenty eight days.. er, so I have come today.”
I felt foolish and embarrassed talking to the young girl behind the
counter, whom, no doubt, would know the details of my crime.
She looked no older than seventeen; the cuffs of her crisp white shirt
were folded back at the sleeve, revealing her slender wrists. She wore
a neat stainless steel watch on her left wrist and a tiny silver chain
adorned the other. Her face looked neat and attractive with a minimum
of make-up; her appearance was slightly studious, no doubt aided by the
wire framed spectacles that she was wearing.
“Can I have your form please… you did bring it with you?” Her voice was
questioning as she looked at me, her eyes were quite obvious in her
interest of looking me up and down.
I fumbled in my jacket pocket and produced the form which I put in the
tray which was set into the counter and allowed objects to be passed to
the other side. I slid the form towards her, underneath the glass
partition.
She did not thank me, but read the form for several moments before she
extended her slender manicured fingers forwards and pressed a button on
her counter position. “Please wait there and I will send someone out to
fetch you. She motioned behind me and I looked around to see that there
were three chairs opposite the counter, the backs of them against the
smoked glass of the window. For the first time I noticed that because
of the light, one could see out of the windows, although passers by
could not see in. There was a low glass table in the centre of the room
on which were placed a variety of Government information leaflets.
I took the middle seat and waited;. I mused at my fright on seeing
someone I thought was Debbie Pearson… and then I remembered that it
could not possible have been her. I had often enquired in a quite
causal way of old school friends what ever happened to so and so,
eventually slipping Debbie’s name into the list of people I enquired
about. I had found out by this reasonably subtle method, that she had
gone on to do nursing. The last time that I had enquired I was told
that she had qualified and that she was now a theatre nurse, having
moved to another city, although they couldn’t remember where.
I sat and waited. The young receptionist reappeared several times
behind the counter but paid me little attention. I was too embarrassed
to ask how long I would have to wait and instead started thinking about
what my punishment would be. I had heard of aversion therapy for drink
driving and wondered whether I would be shown a series of films about
the blood and carnage that can be caused by drink driving.
Althea Jones
Althea Jones had been sixteen when she had joined the court service as
an assistant to the probation officer. When the Punishment Centers had
been first planned she had seen the advertisement for staff in the
Government employee’s magazine. Although she had not realised the full
import of the new department, she had read with interest the prospects
of advancement and promotion. The one word that had taken her eye from
the start had even sent a thrill of excitement through her… the word
‘Punishment’.
It had been a pleasant surprise when she had learned the actualities of
the center’s purpose and methods… and had been more of a surprise to
her when she had been promoted to the front counter; the Center’s first
point of contact with offenders. She soon realised that her job was not
just looking after the first reception of the offender, but that she
was playing an integral part in the conditioning of the convicted
criminal.
Althea had, for as long as she could remember, known that she was
different. Not in any outward appearance, other than that she was
extremely pretty: but in the fact that she liked to dominate boys.
Her realization had come very early on in her young life. She had seen
an old illustration in a book in her father’s library. It had shown a
young woman, smartly dressed in epaulette’d uniform, smacking the bared
bottom of a young teenage boy. His trousers had been pulled down to his
ankles and he seemed to be screaming furiously as the young lady’s hand
descended onto the reddened cheeks of his bottom.
She could not recognise the uniform, but the setting seemed to be an
official place of punishment, she thought that perhaps because of the
style and setting of the room that it might in a police station. There
was no reference to the illustration, and as the book was written in
German she was unable to read the text.
Time and time again, she had waited until her parents were out and
taken the book from the shelf to gaze at the illustration.
She had told no-one of her discovery and had never discussed, even with
her closest friends, how that vivid illustration had made her feel.
As she became older she realised that she was indeed different to the
rest of her girlfriends. Instead of their gushing enthusiasm at being
kissed on the lips by this boy or that, she had, had an entirely
different view of the opposite sex.
Her fantasies involved subjugating boys on every level, including her
favourite image of taking his trousers down and holding his penis while
she spanked his bottom.
She had eventually, after very careful consideration, chosen a
boyfriend. Not the muscular football player that most girls seemed to
favour, but a slim, well-proportioned boy, just a year older than
herself. Her choice had suited her well, although for the boy, the
pleasures were at best… mixed.
Her first date was planned to perfection. Instead of the movies or
dance, she had invited him home for the evening while her parents were
away overnight. She had carefully and expertly teased him, with little
and affectionate touches; a hand gently caressing his cheek, or her
face touching his as she leaned over him to pass him a drink.
The boy had responded, although timidly, by thinking that he could go
further. It was his first fumbled sexual advance, as he tried to touch
her breasts, which sealed the relationship.
She had jumped up as if utterly shocked. Her protests making the boy
blush nervously and then shake with dear as she threatened to tell not
only her parents, but also to phone his mother, whom she knew to be
exceedingly prim.
The result was that either he was punished by her or she would tell,
embellishing the description of his fumbling to that of attempted rape.
Relieved at first, he had agreed… only to realise in shock and anguish,
what the alternative would be.
It had taken some time, before he realised that her threat was real and
serious. She had emphasized what the dire consequences of his parents
being informed would actually mean to him… and suggested that it was
possible that the school would find out. It never once occurred to him,
that he had been cleverly and expertly set-up.
Althea often smiled to her self at the thought that in reality it had
only taken an hour and a half from him walking through her front door,
to the scene she remembered vividly.
She had made him strip to his under shorts, knowing that it would have
taken a lot longer to get him to part with them willingly. She had
eventually coaxed him to lie over her pretty knees. Once in position
she had quickly pulled the garment down to his thighs, his shock at
being bared so intimately had made him cling to his position rather
than reveal his penis and testicles to her gaze.
The rest had been easy. A hairbrush placed conveniently and innocently
beside her chair was quickly brought into play. He had cried and gasped
with the realisation that he was indeed being spanked. The fire in his
buttocks had brought him to floods of tears as he was relentlessly
spanked with the hard-backed brush.
“What a naughty cry-baby you are… thinking that you could have your way
with me… how disgusting… aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” Her words had
so belittled him that it was a few seconds before he realised that his
under-shorts had been briskly pulled down to his ankles. It had taken
Althea no effort at all to entirely remove the garments… or to deftly
grasp his testicles by thrusting her hand between his legs and grasping
the delicate orbs of flesh in her slender fingers.
Although she had had no experience, she managed to hold them firmly,
but without causing undue pain. Still holding him, she had made him
stand with his back to her, as she retained her grip on him.
After that, her confidence grew. She slipped her other hand around his
hips and grasped his penis, which she suddenly realised had stiffened
to become semi-erect. She had made him turn towards her, and had used
both hands to hold his penis and testicles from the front; gripping him
firmly with a threat to squeeze harder if he did not obey.
Her triumph over him was the culmination of all her fantasies. She had
manipulated him to her will. The rest of the evening for Althea was
relaxed and enjoyed entirely at her leisure. In protest and shame she
had spanked him while he was standing up. She had made him stand
sideways, holding his penis firmly in her hand while she had laid more
strokes of the hair-brush over his buttocks until he had sobbed and
begged for her to stop.
For Althea, the grand finale… the epitome of his shame had been carried
out in a delicious sexual ritual: she had made him kneel on the thick
arms of her easy chair with his head hanging over the cushioned back
and with a large bath towel underneath him.
As he hung his head in shame and anguish, she had applied baby lotion
to his bottom, her hand smoothing over his buttocks as she spoke to him.
“Poor baby, did I hurt you very much, never mind, it will all be better
soon.”
He was blushing and trembling as her fingers first brushed against his
tightly closed sphincter. Impudently she had insinuated her finger-tip
up through the opening, experimenting with varying movements and
pressure until she had found the soft mound of his prostate.
Her knowledge of its location had already been carefully and diligently
researched in the copious volumes of anatomy books she had taken from
the public library.
He had gasped and groaned, his anguish almost palpable as she had
reached around his hips, her hand brushing over his tummy as it moved
down to his erect penis.
He had continued to gasp and groan, almost wailing in anguish and
embarrassment as she retracted his foreskin for the first time.
She had, with increasing dexterity milked him… keeping a steady rhythm
within his bottom and over the sensitive flesh of his penis. She had
grown bolder and more vigorous; his gasps and groans giving her
excellent clues as to the effect of her manipulation to his prostate
and penis.
Within minutes he was ejaculating wildly; his body shaking and
trembling as he gasped for air. She did not stop until she had milked
the very last drop from him.
She smiled as she thought back to that time. She had honed her dominant
skills and her sexual technique to perfection upon her reluctant model.
She had made him attend her house when ever circumstances permitted it.
She had spanked him and milked him to her hearts content, each time the
pain and pleasure, more exquisite, more unbearable. For the seventeen
months until she had left school, she had experimented with his body
and his psyche. The vivid illustration in her father’s book brought to
life.
She looked over to where the young man was seated. She had already
admired his good looks and clean cut appearance. It was usually the
tattooed young hooligans that were the bread and butter of the center’s
reluctant clientele. They were usually scruffy, most of them ugly and
brash, certainly not the type of youth that would have taken her
interest. This one seemed different. He was well spoken, perhaps timid,
but certainly attractive. His body looked trim and lithe and he seemed
fit and healthy.
She noted that he had blushed several times as he had looked across at
her, perhaps it was because of his embarrassment at his crime… or
perhaps she thought, that he was embarrassed about her knowing that he
had had to attend for punishment.
One thing, that she was certain of… was that he had not even the
remotest idea of what his punishment would be. She squeezed her legs
together at the delicious thought.
*
Stephen
As I looked around the room in my idleness I noticed that there were
only two doors apart from the one I entered from the street. Both were
marked private. One was at the opposite end of the counter and one was
to my right. Both were made from a smooth grey easy clean surface that
seems to be indicative of most government offices. For the first time I
noticed a small sign that had been placed beneath one of the many
security cameras; it read. ‘Mobile Phones Must Be Switched Off’. I felt
in my pockets for my own mobile phone and checked that there were no
messages.
I had already given a week’s prior notice that I would be taking my
free days off this week and so would not be back in the office for
eight days. I thankfully switched it off, before it could incur
anyone’s displeasure.
Suddenly I heard the distinct sound of an automatic lock being
activated within the frame of the door to the street. I looked around
as a second lock mechanism was being activated, this time the sound
came from the door to my right which was marked private. I watched as
it opened and a strikingly pretty woman in police uniform entered the
room. She was pulling a trolley which looked very similar to a
supermarket shopping cart. The only difference being, that in front of
the basket there looked to be a small locker.
Her dark hair was tied back from her pretty face, emphasising the well
defined bone structure of her sun-bronzed face. Her shirt bore the
epaulets and stripes of a sergeant. I noticed that her breasts seemed
very prominent against the loose material of her blue shirt and that
her City badge was laying at angle over the slope of her right breast
rather than hanging from her shirt..
Around her slim waist, she wore a wide leather belt, which supported an
assortment of equipment. I observed that there were handcuffs, a radio
communicator and a rather odd night stick that looked more like a
cattle prod. I remained seated until she spoke.
Reading from a plastic name tag which had a flat plastic band attached
to it… and in turn was attached to her clipboard, she said.
“Stephen Woodrow Ryder… is that you?”
I muttered my confirmation as she wheeled the cart further into the
center of the room.
“O.K. Now listen to me.” Her voice was not harsh but had an air of
authority to it as she looked me directly in the eye.
“You paying attention….? Good. Between now and when you leave, you obey
every order immediately, without questions, without delay. Now tell me…
what do you do?”
I was speechless for a moment and then in a rather shaky voice I
replied. “er I obey every order..erm immediately without erm… question.
“Right now for your own good… remember that. So repeat it one more
time.”
I felt foolish, as if I was in class at school. I looked towards the
glass partition and saw that the receptionist was watching me as I
stood listening to the sergeant.
“Don’t look away… look at me. Now tell me again what do you do?” She
had raised her voice slightly, but still had that air of quiet
authority.
“I er…obey immediately and er… don’t ask questions.”
“Well that is the essence of it.” She lowered her voice and looked at
me with a kind almost concerned expression on her face.
“Look Sweetie… I am trying to help you get through today… so tell me
again.”
“I obey every order. .erm without question and without delay.”
“O.K Strip and put your clothes in here.” She indicated the basket”
Your watch, any money you may have, mobile phones etc. You put in this
locker here. Got it?”
I know I must have looked dumbfounded. I could not believe for a moment
that she meant me to strip… right here in the office. I looked at her,
incredulous at what she had asked me to do.
“You mean take my clothes off… here?”
“You forget very quickly, I thought you had learned your little rule.
Now tell me it again, what must you do.” I felt utterly stupid and
embarrassed as I looked at her. Her attractive face bore an expression
of impatience as she waited for me to repeat the rule.
“Let’s just stop before we get to the ‘butts’, shall we?”
She stood with her legs astride and her hands upon her hips. Her well
formed legs forming her skirt into and A shape.
“Right here we go again. Strip… put your clothes in the basket and your
personal items in the locker.” She spoke in a tired fashion, putting
her flattened hand out towards me in a gesture similar to a traffic cop
stopping a car at a junction.
“Not another word. Go to it… Strip.”
I looked at her and then feeling utterly foolish began to stake my
jacket off. I folded it and put it in the basket. Slowly and feeling
utterly humiliated and ashamed, I undressed, occasionally glancing at
the glass patrician, only to see that the receptionist was still
looking at me without a trace of surprise or embarrassment on her face.
“Come on Sugar… I haven’t got all day.”
The sergeant glanced at her watch before looking back at me.
I hurried my undressing until I had placed my shoes, with socks inside,
on top of the pile of clothes and my watch, phone and wallet in the
locker. I felt utterly foolish as I stood before her in just my
underpants.
“I said strip… that includes the pants.”
She stood looking at me with her hands resting on the belt at her
waist. I felt the heat from the redness in my cheeks as my body
shivered with acute embarrassment..
“I could not help looking at her. My voice pleading as I stammered
through my embarrassment.
“Pleeease er… miss… er sergeant… not with..” I glanced at the counter.
“Not… erm my underwear… please not erm here.”
I watched as her hands went towards the nightstick and then suddenly
she seemed to decide… and I think gave me the benefit of her
benevolence.
“Look sweetie… this day is going to be tough enough as it is. That is
why I made you repeat the rule. Now without this gets more unpleasant
for you… take your pants down and put them in the basket.” The kindness
and sincerity in her voice made me stop and consider my position. Only
two hours ago I had been full of remorse and now I was whinging about
the punishment.
I felt my face blush and another shiver run through me as turned away
from her and hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my under shorts.
Feeling utterly stupid and humiliated, I pushed them down my legs,
acutely aware of the obvious prurient interest of girl behind the
counter.
I held my under shorts against my body, making sure that they were
covering my genitals, before clasping my bare hands to my groin as I
quickly put them on top of the pile of clothes, covering myself again
with both hands.
I stood crouching over, my knees pressed together and my hands clasped
firmly over my penis and testicles as I looked at her through a mist of
humiliation.
“O.K. now I have some questions to ask you. So pay attention, you got
that?” I nodded feeling utterly foolish at my nakedness in front of
her. Unconcerned at my embarrassment she read from the clipboard.
“Ever suffered from heart problems?”
“Er… no.” I answered.
“Do you have a pacemaker?”
I answered to the negative.
“Ever suffered with a hernia?” I shook my head.
“Rheumatic fever?”
Again I shook my head as she carried on with a whole serious of
questions related to my health. Eventually she finished the list and
looked at me straight in the eye. I could not help my blush of
embarrassment at her close scrutiny of my naked body.
“O.K., now turn around and face the window.” Her instruction caused me
to blush once more. Ashamedly I faced the window. Looking out towards
the street, I had never felt so naked. I tried to convince myself that
I could not be seen by passers-by and yet the view of the young girls
walking in the street, going about their business just a few feet from
my nakedness, seemed to accent my peculiar and humiliating situation.
I heard her move to stand behind me, as I crouched forward trying to
retain my modesty from the front. I knew that she, and the girl behind
the counter, would have a perfect view of my naked bottom.
Suddenly it happened… a blinding pain shot through my left buttock. I
instantly fell forward, my left leg immediately became completely numb,
failing to support my weight.. I tried to break my fall, at the same
time trying to clasp a hand to my buttock which felt as if it were on
fire. The terrible pain seemed to envelope the whole left side of my
body. I felt dizzy and sick as I felt myself falling to the floor,
writhing in agony. I looked up feeling hurt and full of anguish and
indignity. I could see the pretty sergeant casually replace the cattle
prod device back into her belt. I had forgotten my modesty in the shock
and hurt of the moment. I was writhing upon the floor, my penis and
testicles flopping lewdly from side to side as I tried to rid myself of
the pain.
The sergeant stood over me, her eyes betraying no surprise at my
anguish as I writhed uncontrollably. I rubbed my buttocks hard against
the course material of the carpet in absolute torment at the pain which
cut through my body like a knife. Eventually I managed to clasp my
hands over my penis and testicles, aware, even through the haze of
pain, of high ridiculous I must have looked to her.
It was several moments before I could get to my knees and then
eventually… stand shakily in front of the pretty young sergeant.
She looked me up and down, her expression not unkindly. “It hits some
guys harder than others, but the effects don’t last long. Don’t think I
am picking on you… everybody gets it.”
Her voice became softer as she saw the tears well up in my eyes. “Look
sweetie, you need to know what this thing does.” She patted the device
hanging from her belt. “That was on number two; this thing goes to
number ten! Get the picture, you don’t disobey… and you don’t hesitate…
get it?”
I could not help the tears that rolled down my cheeks as I looked at
her. Whether it was the kindness in her voice or the pain and
humiliation of the violent electric shock, I could not tell.
“Let me tell you something else. You are wondering… or you certainly
will do soon, why I didn’t give you number one as a demonstration.
Number one is for your balls,” She looked at my groin as she spoke. I
could not help looking down myself, my eyes involuntarily following
hers to my hands which were still firmly clasped over my genitals.
“A prod in those little plums of yours is a pain you would remember for
the rest of your life. So you had better look lively when you are given
an order. Do you understand now?”
“Yes er miss… It is just the shock and erm… embarrassing erm being
undressed like this” I could not help further tears from running down
my cheeks as I spoke.
She looked at me, this time her face showed real concern. She moved
towards me and put her hand on to my shoulder. Her fingers were gentle
and cool against my fevered skin. Somehow I felt real warmth and
affection from her, in spite of the pain she had made me endure.
“Look sweetie.” Her face moved closer to mine and she whispered softly
to me.
“Forget your embarrassment; embarrassment doesn’t hurt like the stunner
does. You are here for your punishment, the law requires it… so try and
take it easy and do what you are told. It won’t be easy… but it is
better than adding to it, alright sweetie?” Her lips were almost
touching my cheek as I listened to her. For some reason I wished right
then, that she would put her arms around me and kiss me tenderly. I
could not stop my tears from flowing down my cheeks or my body
trembling with emotion.
“Right give me you left hand.”
I looked at her with a worried expression upon my face.
“Don’t worry I an not going to zap you again… unless of course you
disobey.”
My concern was not just that she was going too hurt me that I would
have to take my hand away from my genitals. Fumbling to cover my penis
and testicles with one hand,
I raised my arm out in front of me. Gently she took my wrist and placed
the plastic tag around it. She took a small stapler type device from
her pocket and sealed the strap.
“Just so that we don’t forget who you are.” she smiled.
She stood back and looked at me. “O.K. Stephen, let’s get on with it.
Go and stand in front of that door.” She indicated the door marked
PRIVATE through which she had entered.
I crouched in my position of knees pressed together and hands clasped
to my groin and shuffled rather than walked to stand in front of the
door. I could feel my shoulders shaking with my sobs… and yet could do
nothing about my distress.
I heard her turn the shopping cart around, so that she could pull it-
rather than push it, before she moved forward to stand behind me.
Suddenly I felt the coolness of her delicate fingers stroke over my
buttocks and heard her voice speak gently to me.
“Poor baby… such a sensitive soul aren’t you.”
I shivered and tried to stifle a sob as the electronic lock released
its mechanism and the door opened to reveal an empty corridor. There
was a notice upon the wall. It read: ‘Foul or abusive language WILL
result in further punishment.’ She waited, making sure I had read the
notice.
I heard her voice; again it was soft and caring.
“Walk forward and stop in front of the second door on the right. Don’t
ask questions, don’t hesitate, don’t disobey and you’ll get through
this… so come along sweetie let’s get moving.”
As I stood in front of the unmarked door, I felt the sergeant brush
past me and knock. She resumed her position behind me and putting her
soft hands upon my hips, whispered in my ear. “O.K. sweetie, remember,
don’t resist and don’t question.” I felt sure that it was her lips that
touched my neck as she let go of my waist.
The door opened to reveal two tall female warders. Their bodies were
breathtakingly beautiful, bodies with the height and physique that one
imagines Amazonian women would have. Each wore a white shirt and black
tie. Their navy skirts were knee length and did little to hide the
superb proportions of their hips and legs. Hanging from each of their
belts were a set of handcuff and a cattle prod.
They could have been sisters, their pretty faces were so similar; high
cheekbones, with beautiful blue eyes, straight nose and firm jaw line.
No uniform, however severe, could disguise their firm breasts and
narrow waists. Behind them in the totally tiled room stood four nurses,
two each side of a rubber padded bench which was set into the centre of
the floor.
Several broad leather straps were hanging down from the shiny rubber
surface, the brightness of the stainless steel buckles, glinted under
the brightness of the circular operating room light in the ceiling. To
the rear of the padded bench were several baths as well as a row of
sinks.
Rubber tubing and several strange medical apparatus hung from hooks on
the walls or were placed on shelves surrounding the other three sides
of the room. A tall chromium I.V. stand had been placed to one side of
the bench, its tubing running down to a portable instrument trolley,
which contained a plethora of instruments as well as tubes, jars and
bottles of various liquids and ointments.
All the nurses looked to be young, perhaps eighteen or nineteen years
old. They were each wearing rubber aprons over their uniforms and their
hands were encased in surgical gloves. They were all extremely pretty,
unlike most hospital nurses, their make-up had been perfectly applied
to their beautiful faces and their uniforms were beautifully fitted to
accent the lovely curves of their bodies.
There were two blondes and two with dark, almost black hair; the one
thing they had in common was their look of cool appraisal at my naked
body.
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