Prologue
Marcus was a great admirer of the female sex. He liked all parts of a woman’s
body, well shaped tits, soft hair, slim waist, long legs, and pert bottom.
But like all men he had his preferences.
He regarded a nubile girl’s arse as her greatest glory, the essence of her charms,
and the apotheosis of womanhood. As a connoisseur of women he was, by virtue of his
profession, in a fortunate position to see many girls and compare their physical assets.
Like the naked eighteen-year-old girl who was bent over in front of him now ready
to receive her punishment. That was the way he liked the arse to be presented, the girl
bending over to touch her toes so that her cheeks were tightened, her milky-white
unblemished buttocks achieving perfect symmetry, fleshy but not too voluptuous, so
vulnerable…
He took terrible liberties.
Marcus parted her cheeks to look at her anus, the most desirable female orifice.
This girl’s was that delicious pinky-brown colour, delicate and beautiful yet reminding
you of its function…that even lovely young girls have to shit.
And she was feminine and beautiful despite being a Reformatory girl, considered
by many to be the lowest form of life. A slut and a whore.
Below the tiny puckered bud of her anus her pussy lips were fleshy and dark in
contrast to the whiteness of her rounded cheeks and thighs.
The vulva was inviting too.
Both entrances promised moments of sheer bliss.
Yet he knew which forbidden fruit was the more tempting.
He allowed her cheeks to close again, ran his hand over the downward slope of her
bottom, and drew back his cane.
The first stroke made her buttocks quiver delightfully.
He waited to see the first purple wheal decorate her virgin arse, a foretaste of
things to come, a sign of her initiation.
Chapter 1
Marcus Brendel pulled a face to himself as he listened to his sister’s pleas over
the telephone.
‘Please Marcus, you’re my only hope. I’m at my wit’s end.’
The subject of the conversation was Melanie’s eighteen year old daughter Beth
(short for Bethany) who was getting into every sort of trouble and driving her mother
crazy. Marcus knew from previous phone calls Beth had dropped out of school, after years
of sporadic attendance, and that she snorted coke and binged on booze, but now she’d
joined some gang that terrorized their part of London and the police were frequent callers
at Melanie’s door.
At first Marcus had tended to see her as a fairly typical inner city teen with a
mother struggling to cope without a man’s influence around the place. Beth’s father was a
West Indian with loads of bling and image but not much sense of responsibility: not in it
for the long haul or any sort of haul, long or short.
Now Marcus had to admit the picture seemed to have got worse pretty quickly
although it was difficult to know how much Melanie was over-egging the account in order to
convince Marcus that he should get involved.
‘I thought if we could get her out of London. Away from the gang she hangs out
with…’
‘Might make her worse,’ observed Marcus.
‘You could get a place for her, couldn’t you?’
‘You seriously want to send her to the Reformatory?’
‘Could be the making of her,’ insisted Melanie. ‘She needs discipline.’
‘Discipline is a bit of an understatement for our regime.’
‘You’re always telling me it’s what these youngsters need.’
‘I’m talking dyed in the wool young hoodlums with criminal records.’
‘The policewoman said Beth’ll end up in court if she doesn’t mend her ways. They
rob people on the tube, beat other kids up for no reason, deal drugs, you name it. Some
of the lads raped a girl from a rival gang just because she strayed onto their
territory.’
‘Youngsters are usually admitted through the courts, Melanie.’
‘I don’t want to wait for that to happen.’
‘Do you want to send her up for the weekend to see if I can talk some sense into
her? I’m not sure the Reformatory’s the place for her.’
‘Marcus, she wouldn’t arrive. I couldn’t trust her.’
‘So you’re saying I’d have to fetch her?’
‘It’ll be the only way and even then she’ll be a handful I can tell you. You
haven’t seen her for years.’
It was true.
Marcus still had an image in his mind of the cute little girl of twelve he’d last
seen when Melanie paid him a visit. She’d been escaping from one of her many dubious
boyfriends (it took something drastic to persuade Melanie to venture further north than
the Watford Gap) and was seeking sanctuary knowing Marcus represented safety and the force
of the law.
At that time Beth was quiet, well behaved and rather shy; her mixed race origins
evident in her light brown skin, large brown eyes, and curly black hair. She had a wary,
slightly unsettled look about her.
Melanie’s faith in Marcus’s ability to sort out her problems was based on the fact
that he’d protected her when they’d lived together with their abusive alcoholic mother.
At a certain stage in her routine booze-driven journeys to oblivion she always became
violent and lashed out at her children. Marcus took many a blow intended for his sister,
absorbing his mother’s fury until she lapsed into a few hours of drunken stupor.
The worst thing their mother threw at them was to say she didn’t know how their
father was or whether they even had the same father. This undermined Melanie particularly
and she vowed to search for their father when she was old enough.
Marcus matured early and developed quickly into a tall strapping young man able to
restrain his mother physically, holding her down in her chair or locking her in her
bedroom until the storm was over. Collecting and confisticating the gin and vodka bottles
didn’t work if you wanted any peace because she’d scream for them the way some women would
scream for a child taken away by force.
The down side of the relationship between brother and sister was that Melanie
developed a dependency on Marcus and expected him to bail her out when she got into
trouble, a fairly frequent occurrence because of her terrible choice of boyfriends,
Beth’s natural father being just one example.
Marcus had to accept another fact about his sister.
Melanie spent most of her time drinking in clubs and pubs through the day as well
as at night, allowing herself to be picked up by men. It wasn’t the solitary and
excessive drinking her mother had indulged in at home; it was more of a means to an end
and it was characteristic of Melanie’s complete inability to discipline herself to work
and make her own way in the world except by attaching herself to a man and his money.
Marcus knew Melanie also regarded him as an expert in dealing with problem
youngsters because he worked in the Reformatory.
The Reformatories were still relatively new as an addition to the penal system,
introduced as a measure to arrest the alarming increase in teenage gang warfare and the
use of knives and guns by young people.
Between 2010 and 2020 the clamour for the authorities to act decisively against
these trends became almost hysterical.
In the decade before, Governments introduced new legislation that appeared to most
people to tinker with the problem, restrictions on the sale of weapons, slightly tougher
regimes in young offenders institutions, and so on, but the situation continued to
deteriorate even according to the government’s own statistics which most people thought
underplayed the extent of the problem.
Eventually boot camps for youngsters between eighteen and twenty five were
introduced which went some way to satisfy public opinion until a number of exposes by
journalists revealed conditions in the camps to be far from draconian. The young inmates
were rewarded financially for good behaviour and there were a number of unfortunate
incidents when the inmates were allowed out to work on community projects.
The public, led by a few prominent politicians, called for something along the
lines of the old Borstals but tougher to instill Army-style discipline and respect for
other people and their property, based on fear of punishment (including birching) rather
than systems of rewards.
Staff was recruited mainly from the Prison Service and Armed Forces and
psychiatrists and therapists were no longer required. The aim was to frighten the young
inmates to such an extent that they would never re-offend. His sister had no idea of what
conditions were really like in the Reformatories otherwise she would not wish the regime
on Beth. On the other hand perhaps her desire to get Beth off her hands so she could live
her own life without encumbrances was overriding.
Life had dealt Melanie a poor hand of cards and she was in no position to be an
effective parent.
Beth was sitting on the sofa under the watchful gaze of her mother and her latest
boyfriend when Marcus got to the flat.
She was wearing a grey top with a hood, hands deep in pockets, with a scowl on her
face.
‘If you’d like to make yourself scarce for a couple of hours,’ Marcus said to the
man. ‘Family matters.’
The man shrugged and looked at Melanie.
‘See you later sweetheart,’ she said.
He slouched out of the flat.
‘Take that hood down, Beth,’ said Marcus. ‘Let me have a look at you.’
‘Do what your uncle Marcus tells you,’ said Melanie.
‘Why should I?’
‘Because I’m asking you…’
‘Never mind about asking,’ said Marcus.
He leaned over the girl and grabbed her wrist firmly. With his left hand he
flicked back the hood.
Her short afro hair was twisted into small dreads.
She had two studs in her right eyebrow.
Marcus had not been prepared for how attractive she looked despite the anger and
resentment on her face.
‘Stand up,’ he told her.
Beth made a tutting sound and muttered something under her breath but she rose
slowly to her feet.
‘Take that damned jacket off. I’m sick of telling you,’ said Melanie.
‘I’m freezing,’ she said, hunching her shoulders.
‘Take it off,’ said Marcus.
When she complied with another shrug of her shoulders Marcus saw the outline of big
breasts in a tight black t-shirt which carried a logo that meant nothing to him. She was
wearing grey track suit bottoms and trainers. Though the trousers were baggy it was odds
on she was slim yet curvy underneath. Though she stooped in the manner of a moody
teenager, she was tall. She had full lips and neat features.
Melanie was a good looking woman and her daughter was stunning.
Her brown eyes under long black lashes slid away from his face.
She was determined to avoid eye contact.
‘Take that gum out of your mouth,’ Marcus told her.
‘What is this?’ she protested. ‘You’re not my dad.’
‘I don’t like kids chewing gum in front of me.’
‘I’m not a kid.’
‘Take out that filthy gum,’ Marcus repeated.
‘Or what?’
‘Or I’ll make you.’
‘I’ll report you.’
‘Just do it.’
She didn’t respond until Marcus showed her he was serious by moving towards her.
She offered the large lump of gum on her outstretched palm.
‘Put it in the bin,’ said Marcus.
‘In the kitchen,’ ordered Melanie.
When Beth was out of the room, she asked Marcus urgently, ‘Will you take her?’
‘I see what you mean by attitude.’
‘You thought I was exaggerating?’
‘I wondered,’ Marcus admitted.
‘This is relatively good behaviour,’ said Melanie. ‘She’s quite subdued.’
‘Is she using shit now?’
‘She’ll be on something,’ said her mother.
‘She’ll have to go cold turkey if I take her.’
‘It’s for her own good.’
‘I don’t think she’ll see it that way.’
Marcus knew he’d already made up his mind to take her home and he recognised why.
He took pride in his ability to reform anti-social young people and his niece was no
different. He would enjoy handing back to her mother a civilized and mature young lady in
place of a young tear away.
He knew there was a darker side to his motivation but he wouldn’t let his sister
get even a glimpse of those feelings.
Not for the first time he felt a twinge of guilt but he was usually able to
convince himself that the ends justified the means.
‘Your mother wants you to live with me for a time,’ Marcus told Beth when she came
back. ‘See if we can straighten you out.’
‘You bitch!’ She snarled at her mother. ‘You fucking bitch.’
Marcus slapped her hard across the face.
‘Do you know why she wants rid of me?’
‘Behave yourself.’
‘So I’m out of the way when she brings her punters home.’
‘You see! You see!’ shouted Melanie. ‘This is the way she treats me.’
‘What do you expect? Respect?’
‘You will show your mother respect Beth,’ Marcus told her.
‘I fucking won’t.’
Marcus grabbed her and dropping back into the settee he yanked Beth over his lap.
‘She needs a damn good hiding,’ said Melanie.
Marcus brought his hand down hard on her wriggling bottom.
‘Get off you bastard,’ Beth yelled.
Marcus smacked her hard again.
‘She can’t feel it,’ Melanie said.
She took hold of the elasticised waist of Beth’s track suit bottoms and pulled them
down as far as her the backs of her knees.
Her arse was already bare because she was wearing only a black thong which had more
or less disappeared into the deep cleft between her buns.
Marcus spanked each cheek in turn while Beth kept up a torrent of protest and abuse
couched in the foulest language and Melanie exhorted him to use more force.
He enjoyed watching her firm round globes quiver as he slapped them. Her young
flesh was smooth and unblemished, mid-brown in colour, and perfectly shaped. Some girls
have arses that protrude provocatively and Beth was one of them.
It was a pity that her vulva was concealed by the thin piece of material but there
would be plenty of time in the days ahead for him to inspect all of his niece’s charms.
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