Those who have read 'Reform School Parts I
and II, may well skip this preface. As I
said at the outset of the series, this is a fantasy of the future. Instead of 'liberalism' spreading, civilisation
has returned to a much harsher way of life.
Back to Victorian days. Or, if
you prefer, taking a leaf from the Islamic book. Under both systems corporal punishment was,
or is, part and parcel of everyday life.
So, we move on a hundred years or so ...
The soft approach has lost out. Being kind and considerate to youngsters has
caused more trouble than it can possibly be worth. They have not responded; they have not
contributed. They have simply considered
the elders in society an easy touch. Some
really bad habits including casual violence, stealing ... all became endemic
amongst the young. In the end, the
Establishment ... representing the major part of society ... had to take
over. It had found a new kind of regime,
based on respect for authority and law and order. A regime which accepted rules and discipline.
Some would call it a fascist kind of society
...
Well, maybe.
But it was a society which checked the headlong rush of lemming-like
creatures into the abyss of anarchy.
It was a society with faults. Over-aggressive. Over-compensating. But, at least, it was positive ... and
checked a downward trend which had been in progress for a century.
Great Britain was one of the first nations to
implement a new, rigorous regime for youngsters - both male and female. Germany was another. France, Spain, Russia and the Slavic
countries soon followed suit. In Islam
it was already there.
Under Government direction, Reform Schools
were re-introduced in all these countries.
Within a few years, the crime rate amongst
the younger generation had reduced remarkably.
Only the 'liberals' were surprised.
The majority nodded in silent approval.
This new, disciplinary regime had made their lives safer and more
satisfying. No longer were respectable
citizens plagued by the noisy rowdysim and violence
of teenagers. Those immature youngsters
who got out of line soon found themselves undergoing a most unpleasant
experience.
The Establishment had, at last, got a grip on
things.
It had got things ordered. Set standards. Assessed values. Restored sanity to the relationships between
young and old.
There are many who wish that such a
revolutionary programme could be initiated today. Instead of a hundred years hence ... which is
the period in which this story is set.
Now for the more immediate background ...
Lisa Cavan, an exceedingly attractive young
woman of 22 years ... blonde and busty ... was originally sent to Redesdale Grange, having been sentenced for having sexual
intercourse while under the age of 25.
This was an offence under State Regulations (unless one was
married). She received six months at a
Grade II Reform School. However, after
an outburst in Court, during which she insulted the Chief Magistrate, the
sentence was changed. Lisa Cavan was
sent for twelve months at a Grade I Reform School. Here the regime was far, far stricter than in
a Grade II School.
Over the months, Lisa Cavan suffered agonies
and humiliations far beyond anything she had previously remotely considered
possible. Certainly, she paid the full
penalty for her misdemeanours.
Ultimately, she was paroled after some eight months ... but only because
she submitted to the vile sexual lusts of her Parole Judge. Who (surprise!) turned out to be the same
Judge who had originally sentenced her.
At this point, Lisa - now an utterly
different person from the one who had entered Redesdale
Grange, formed a relationship, with the Governor's niece, Miss Cleo. A lesbian relationship.
For obvious reasons, Cleo persuaded Lisa to
stay on in the Prison Service, starting off as Junior Officer.
Lisa surprised herself by agreeing.
She was even more surprised to discover how
much she enjoyed her work. Perhaps it
was because the world had treated her so harshly that Lisa so enjoyed getting her
own back.
Taking it out on others.
In any event, she made a most satisfactory
Prison Official. And she and Cleo
continued to have the happiest of relationships. The iron regime of Redesdale
Grange grinds on. Lisa, once a victim of
it, is now a cog in its disciplinary wheel ...
Cleo Krane looked
round her classroom with complacent satisfaction.
Before her, eighteen heads were bowed
down. Black, brown, dark blonde, light
blonde, the occasional red. Her 'pupils'
were doing long division sums. Twenty of
them. The concentration and the silence
were intense. The penalty of failure in
this arithmetic exercise was known by all.
One stroke of the cane for every wrong
answer.
This classroom regime was one of the integral
parts of the discipline at Redesdale Grange, one of a
dozen Grade I Reform Schools throughout the United Kingdom. Six more were planned over the next three
years.
The Reform School inmates, whose ages ranged
from 16 to 25, were all dressed in schoolgirl uniforms. At least, in a bizarre travesty of that
uniform. It was designed deliberately to
degrade. A see-through blouse, a short
skirt, minuscule knickers, suspender belt and stockings, high heeled
shoes. These mature young women were
being treated as schoolgirls again.
"Ten more minutes," announced Cleo
complacently. She turned a page of the
novel she was reading ... hearing a gasp or two of anguish form various members
of her class. Some girls were very bad
at arithmetic ...
A little bubble of pleasure went through
Cleo. She loved her work. Being the niece of the Governor also gave her
a special kind of authority. She was not
simply another prison official; she was in charge of the 'educational' side of Redesdale. Like her
aunt, she adopted a Victorian style in dress, although her long gowns were
rather more frilly and fanciful, as befitted a young woman. Her gown that day was of pale lilac with a
white ruffed lace collar. Most fetching.
Cleo's mind drifted ... and settled on
Lisa. Lovely, lovely Lisa. Who had once (poor girl) been one of her
pupils but who was now her assistant. A
prison official. But more than
that. Far more. Lisa was her friend and lover. Oh such a wonderful lover!
What nights they had together!
Locked, palpitating, in each other's arms!
Cleo sighed.
Life would not be worth living without Lisa, she told herself. Which, of course, was a ridiculous thing to
say. For Cleo had enjoyed herself very
much before Lisa had come along ... and was perfectly capable of doing so if
ever Lisa went away. After all, if you
were a sadist, and had a constant supply of young women under your absolute
control, one could hardly be anything but happy!
"Five more minutes," announced
Cleo.
Again came that anguished murmuring ...
Yes, it was tough at Redesdale,
thought Cleo. But then, it was supposed
to be tough. The State decreed it
so. Erica Krane,
her aunt, like all the other officials in the place, were only doing their
duty. Carrying out policy laid down.
Cleo's mind drifted back to Lisa. What was she doing, she wondered? It was a rest period for her. The whole morning off before she took a
different class in the afternoon. Probably,
thought Cleo, she was having some fun with the Duty Girl. They had an understanding about that. Any Duty Girl (that is to say, a prisoner
assigned as a personal servant to an Official for the day) was considered to be
fair game ... and there would be no objections from either if they wanted to
amuse themselves with her. The girl on
duty that day, Cleo recalled, was Linda.
A petite, pretty thing of 17 who had served one month of a three-month
stretch. Yes, Lisa would probably be
well relaxed by now ...
"Time's up. Bring up your exercise books."
Each girl stood up and extricated herself
from the small desk at which she had to sit.
Those with long legs had an uncomfortable time of it. In a tense silence they filed up and, in
turn, placed their work on Cleo's desk.
She looked at each pale, frightened face ... seeing the tension and the
dread in uneasy eyes ... sensing which ones had made the biggest hash of the
exercise. Well, she would soon know for
sure.
The short-skirted figures returned to their
places.
They waited still and silent, hands clasped
on top of the head - the obligatory posture whilst an exercise was being
marked. Many an eye flickered with
anguish to the cane which hung on display behind Cleo. It had a hooked handle, was three feet long,
slim and whippy, and highly polished, especially at the last twelve
inches. This was because this 'business
end', as it was sometimes referred to, had been lacquered to increase its
hardness. And, thus, its
efficiency. This lacquering had been the
idea of the Governor, Erica Krane, and had swiftly
gained Ministry approval. It was with
some pride and pleasure that the Governor had recently learnt that these
lacquered canes were now used in all Grade I Reform Schools.
Certainly, each girl in the classroom knew
just how painful a cut from such a cane was.
Cleo's blue pencil was busily at work. She worked from a crib, slashing through each
incorrect answer and noting how many problems had not been solved. Then she sorted the pile of books into some
order. Though she sometimes dealt with
girls at random, it was more usually her policy to summon out first those who
had done best. Thus, those who remained
at their desk had to watch the preliminary punishments, all the time knowing
that her punishment was bound to be worse!
That, indeed was a most salutary experience.
Cleo looked up and then slowly round the
class. By then you could almost cut the
tension with a knife.
"Some good efforts from a few," she
announced, "but bad efforts from the majority. Some VERY bad efforts." Cleo could see many of them trembling. Lips being bitten. Tears already beginning to form in terrified,
despairing eyes. Well, they were there
to suffer ... and suffer they would!
"It seems to me," she continued,
"That this class is particularly inept at this form of arithmetic. Very well.
I intend to change that. We shall
have more long division in future. Also,
if there is not a rapid improvement, I shall increase the penalties. Two strokes instead of one for every error
might make some of you wake your ideas up!"
There was a low horrified gasp ...
Then Cleo stood up and took down the
cane. She flexed it and then ran her
fingers almost lovingly along its smoothness.
Though the tawse and the birch had their
merits, without doubt the cane was Cleo's favourite corrective instrument.
"Alicia!" she barked. "Come out here ... "
With something like relief, a tall girl with
red hair stood up. She had a willowy
figure and rather small breasts.
"Not a bad effort. Just the one sum uncompleted."
It was no mean feat to have got nineteen of
the sums correct! Cleo didn't pay compliments.
"I ... I'm sorry, Miss ... I didn't
quite have ..."
"Silence, girl! Get over my desk."
Without demur or delay, Alicia knelt on the
trestle stool that ran along the front of Cleo's desk, her back to the
class. Then she lifted up her short skirt
high and pulled down the tiny little pair of black knickers she wore. Her bottom was unmarked and the flesh
exceedingly white, as it often is with redheads. Alicia bent across the desk and clasped the
back edge ... and Cleo, almost casually it seemed, measured the naked bottom
before her.
Then the cane went up fast and high ... and
came whistling down even faster.