Another day at the Correctional Centre was starting.

The Governess' first appointment of the day was with the saleslady from the firm that markets the disciplinary equipment. Miss Finch arrived five minutes early and sat in her crisp business suit awaiting the call into the office. The previous night she had looked anything but crisp and business like as she entertained the selected female prisoner in the visitor quarters. She smiled as she  thought back on the evening. How the rather haughty girl had been a little reluctant to obey her orders and how the visit from the policewoman and the application of the guardroom cane had improved her attitude. A secret thrill ran though her body when she remembered the events of the early morning; the sharp intake of breath and the facial expression that the girl had made as she forced her breasts into the too small brassiere as she had been made to dress in front of her.  Perhaps she had been a little unkind in her long use of the nipple clamps, but the girl had been one of those stuck-up bra models in her previous life and needed taking down a peg or two or maybe four or five.

She was called into the office and was surprised to see that another lady was present. The Governess introduced her as the Centre doctor and said that she was on hand to give her professional advice where needed. Sitting back in her chair, Mrs Gurney then came to the point of the meeting.

"As you probably know, one of the prisoners is scheduled to receive a breast punishment today. During my hearing of the charges against her I formed the opinion that she needed to be treated fairly harshly if we are to ever break the stubborn superiority that she displays. As we all know however, these breast canings are more feared than really effective; given the control that has to be exercised over the choice of cane and the force of the strokes to avoid any damage. What we really need is something that can be laid on with enthusiasm, frightens the living daylights out of the observers, hurts like hell but causes no real damage. Can you help?"

"Certainly can Ma'am," responded the saleslady reaching into a voluminous case at her feet," This is the very latest design of breast flogger, it is on trial at the moment and would require your regional Inspector's approval for use today, but it would be well worth the effort."

 

She produced a fearsome implement. A thick plaited handgrip about six inches long was attached to several long thongs about two feet long. On closer examination the nine thongs were made of supple rubber with each a different length so that on impact they would be fully splayed and cover and area around six inches in diameter.

The Governess examined the implement in detail then passed it to the doctor. She inspected it and then, having given it several experimental swishes through the air, brought it down over the arm of a padded chair with a thud. She nodded her approval to her boss.

Without further discussion the Governess made a phone call. From her tone, her frequent "Mama's" and her deferential tone it was someone in authority.

The necessary permission obtained, coffee was called for and the three ladies relaxed.

In the rest of the Centre however, the mood was anything but relaxed. The Centre Tannoy announced that there would be a formal and public punishment session at 1200hrs in the main punishment room. The administrative staff sprung into action. One squad of female prisoners was detailed to prepare the room under the supervision of their wardress. Every item and surface was dusted, polished and polished again. The duty nurse ensured that all the necessary medical equipment was topped up and ready for use.

At eleven o'clock the invited guests started to arrive. These were local worthies who had some say in the funding of the centre. They were mainly female with two or three males. Several of them had brought their young daughters, aged eighteen and upwards as an object lesson in keeping to the straight and narrow.

All were formally dressed in business attire and an eager nervous attitude permeated the room where they waited. Stewart's squad under Miss Kenton were assigned the task of taking coats, showing them to the waiting room and serving coffee. From the glances at the female prisoner's shirt covered breasts it was obvious that the reason for the session was known.

Just as Daley was serving two cups of steaming coffee, one of the daughters, a snooty tall eighteen-year old turned suddenly. There was no way Daley could avoid her elbow and both cups and their contents were sent flying, mainly over the servant-prisoner. Instead of showing concern for whether the hot coffee had hurt Daley, (which it had), or help in sponging her shirt down, the little minx simply berated the girl calling her a "Clumsy Cow!" in a loud voice.

Swiftly Miss Kenton was there, offering profuse apologies and a whispered suggestion to remain after the session and help deal with the offence. This left the girl positively beaming and the coffee stained Daley looking totally dejected.

Stewart heard about all this somewhat later. He had been detailed as Prisoner Escort and had been marched over to the room where Harper was waiting by two policewomen. He was surprised how composed the female was. She stood to attention when they entered and meekly put her hands in front of her for the handcuffs. She was in the regulation schoolgirl type dress with everything spotlessly clean and pressed. Her shoulder length hair had been planted in a pigtail.

 

It was a short march to the punishment room. Everyone they passed glanced in their direction but Harper faced forward and appeared in a daze. On arrival the handcuffs were removed and they were left in the holding cell by themselves with the door slammed shut. They took a seat next to each other on the low bench.

Stewart asked how she was feeling.

"Pretty frightened," she admitted, "The sooner we get this over the better. It's the total injustice of this place that really gets to me. I am about to be flogged across my poor boobs and there isn't a damn thing that I can do about it, I just have to accept whatever they want to do to me."

She apologised as she gently massaged her breasts through the white shirt material. "That injection they gave me yesterday has certainly worked, I have just started my period and they are really swollen. This wretched regulation bra feels even tighter!"

Stewart looked out into the room. One of the practice training dummies wearing a bra and panties was still secured to the breast punishment frames. Unknown to him the wardress selected to punish Harper had been practicing with the new whip just prior to their arrival. He watched as two wardresses unstrapped the dummy that they referred to as "Agony Annie"  and carried it away.

 A few minutes went by and then two other females were brought in and told to take a seat. One of the wardresses explained that Harper was "top of the Bill" but the others had been brought in for formal punishments to fill the time for the visitors. Twenty selected prisoners were then marched in and took their position along one wall. They had been selected from different squads to witness the punishments and no doubt to carry the details back to their sisters.

Eventually, just before the starting time, The Governess led the chatting and smiling visitors to their comfortable seats. The punishment session was about to commence.

The Governess stood in front of the guests and made a short speech of welcome.

She continued:

"There are three prisoners under punishment today and I hope that the scale and nature of their discipline will fully acquaint you all with the very effective methods we have at the Centre for training our charges. You will see our underlying level of humanity is maintained by the presence of Doctor Jayne Hargreaves and two of her nurses who are authorised to stop the punishment at any time. But, please ladies and gentlemen, be under no illusion; females in this establishment are dealt severely. Following each application of a punishment, please feel free to examine the prisoner and ask any questions that you may wish."

Turning to the waiting staff she issued the order: "Commence punishments!" A fully uniformed wardress marched to the holding cell, opened the door and snapped out the name.

"Hellawell!"

A short plump girl snapped to attention and marched out. She was around twenty years old, short fair hair and round plain face. She halted in front of the senior wardress.

 

"869 Hellawell. On report for persistent slacking in Physical Training. Sentenced to 18 strokes of the strap across her buttocks."

She was ordered to strip and place her clothes on a small table. First she gave the assembled visitors a nervous glance, then, steeling herself she removed all the items of her uniform, paused as if hoping for a miracle of deliverance, then finally removed her stockings, suspender belt, bra and panties.

The audience had hardly taken in the young firm body that stood in front of them before she was ordered to mount one of the punishment blocks. Her back was to the spectators so she could not see their reaction to her unladylike displays as she climbed up to lean over the padded bench. The flimsy modesty belt did little to help. Certainly an almost uninterrupted view of her crotch was bound to be given, but mercifully, this bench required the legs to be closed so the intimate secrets were soon obscured. Her large breasts were also flattened against the cold leather of the top providing her with more privacy. Two of the junior wardresses quickly secured her wrists and ankles. Finally a thick waist strap was pulled around her.

The punishing wardress stepped forward. It was Miss Kenton. Somewhat self-consciously she removed her uniform shirt then her brassiere revealing her superb breasts. Clearly she was ill at ease with the requirement for the punishing wardress to be stripped to the waist, but her reservations were in no way going to get in the way of her career ambitions.

She was handed a heavy strap with a handle. The flexible thong was about two and a half feet long with the last eighteen inches split into two. She ran it through her left hand several times to re-assure herself with the feel. One of the nurses swiftly swabbed the twin cheeks down with a soaking cotton wool swab. Surplus liquid ran into the anal groove and disappeared between the clenched legs.

She then took up station to the prisoner's left flank, raised the strap and brought it thwacking down to the wet, white buttocks. Immediately she lifted the strap clear and brought it down again, then again.

The firm white flesh rapidly showed three red swathes equally spread across both cheeks. As the shock of the impact turned to pain the girl gasped and flexed against her securing straps. Miss Kenton casually filled in time, with one eye on the clock, by walking round the whipping frame holding the strap with her right hand and stroking it affectionately with her left. Her chosen technique was clearly to be three quick strokes every minute.

As the second hand reached the top she was back in position with the strap raised. This time it was brought down over the upper part of the buttocks. Then, once more, she commenced the slow measured walk around the victim.

The third dose was laid across the lower part of the bottom. This area was clearly more sensitive and the girl reacted with a gasp, then a groan and finally a short yell of distress. By now the audience were totally absorbed in the procedure taking place in front of them. The absolute silence was interrupted only by the sound of the strap; the muffled exclamations of the prisoner and the measured tread of Miss Kenton's uniform boots as, once more, she patrolled the punishment bench.

Nine strokes down, nine to go. But now the entire area of the girls buttocks were a bright throbbing red with the thin lines that indicated where the edge of the strap had struck, already turning a darker shade. Miss Kenton gently stroked the marks with her fingertips, waited a further full minute, and then brought down the strap to start the second half of the discipline.

The three across the upper surface slammed home. The prisoner's breathing had become so irregular that there was scarcely any breath left to scream, only to moan almost inaudibly.

The next three, across the centre seemed, to spur her vocal cords to more effort.

"Please Miss..no more Miss!" came the grovelling plea. Miss Kenton did not even break her step at the girls pleaded. Instead she gave a satisfied smile as she raised her strap for the final three.