This follows on from my 6
th
story and was not planned, but as in so many events in life it just happened.
David and I married in 1987 soon after he divorced Victoria.
He never went home to Victoria and the abusive relationship that he had survived. His wounds are healing. The physical wounds healed quickly but the psychological wounds took longer, and it has taken a long time for him to understand that his opinions matter and he and I are in an equal partnership.
I remain a sadist and enjoy the giving of pain, but up until a year ago I had with one exception only ever engaged in non-consensual discipline. Sadly, the only individual I ever punished who did not seek discipline was the man I now love more than anything in the world.
I will never again lift a hand to David. He has suffered far too much already.
But as you are aware I have a dark side, and after divorcing Christopher and before meeting David I had continued to satisfy my desire to administer pain. I only administered CP to a small exclusive clientele and offered no sexual or any other services. I worked from premises I owned in town.
Following the start of my relationship I discontinued working as a dominatrix. At the time It did not seem appropriate given the experience through which David had lived.
And then things changed. The wheel turned.
For many years, the do-gooders with their unrealistic views of the fundamental goodness of human nature have ruled the roost. In the UK corporal punishment was made illegal in prisons in 1967 and state schools in 1986. Meanwhile minor and street crime had worsened to epidemic proportions. And then along came Maggie Thatcher.
In 1998 corporal punishment was re-introduced in England for several crimes where it was considered a short and very sharp lesson would do more than a custodial sentence which in all probability would be suspended because of overcrowding in the prisons. And so, corporal punishment in the form of birching, paddling, strapping, or caning to the naked buttocks was introduced.
Several crimes for which this would be appropriate were identified. These included drunk or dangerous driving, minor crimes of violence, public drunkenness, and shoplifting. Additionally, a tariff of punishments for each type of crime was published. A drunk driver for example might expect a more severe punishment than a drunk found urinating in public.
It was decided on the grounds of public decency that men would discipline men and women discipline women. This also satisfied the sensibilities of orthodox religious groups who might otherwise have protested. There were a few dissenting voices that complained this was soft on women who would necessarily be punished by somebody from the "weaker sex." This was until it was pointed out that women have softer, plumper, and less muscular buttocks and therefore generally feel the pain of a flogging, and mark more easily than their male counterparts. And if you think women are weak, consider how hard modern women tennis players can strike a tennis ball.
One day Big Brother, who was obviously watching, wrote me a letter offering me a job interview at one of their newly opened re-education centres. It is obvious that even in the 1980s the government knew more about us than we would have liked.
The invitation was on official UK Prison Service headed paper. After a brief preamble outlining the changes to the law and what offences would now be punished by corporal punishment the letter cut to the chase and informed me that in view of my experience in providing consensual beating I had been selected to apply for a post as a female corporal punishment officer. The post would be part time and probationary in the first instance until a core group of officers had been employed. Following this those amongst us who delivered the most proficient punishments would be offered employment on a full time or part time basis as we wished.
I was invited to attend for interview.
At first my reaction was to throw the letter away, but after a little thought I started to reconsider. I knew I would have to discuss this with David and did not want to reopen old wounds, but the old urges remained, and I knew this was something I would be both good at and derive satisfaction from.
I need not have worried. On the evening of the day the letter was posted through our letterbox David had been watching the news on television and remarked that they were recruiting punishment officers for the new centres, and he was surprised I had not applied. From there it was easy to admit I had been approached and he jokingly smiled and said I was made for the job, and that of course I should go for interview.
The details of the interview itself are not important. Suffice it to say that the first part of the process was designed to weed out individuals who were psychologically unfit and would have done lasting physical damage to anybody they punished, and those who thought that the process was a good idea, but "when the chips were down" would be either not be able to do the job properly or would feel guilt afterwards. They were looking for level-headed individuals who could coldly, impersonally, and efficiently deliver a court ordered thrashing.
Following this process, we were subjected to a physical examination and finally made to administer corporal punishment to dummies. Those who did not have the correct technique were shown how and made to practice until they were proficient.
Having passed the entry process, I was eventually given a provisional job three mornings a week from 9am to 12pm. Each morning. I would be expected to give six punishments in each half hour slot. For the first month we worked in pairs. All sessions were recorded on video tape from three different cameras with audio. This was for legal purposes to ensure we were not unduly brutal and although some talking was permitted we were not meant to unduly taunt the miscreants.
The process was always the same. The victim was asked to attend the centre reception one hour before their appointment and was registered and tagged with their name and sentence on a wrist band. They were told to strip naked and go to the toilet and then shower before putting on a loose smock. They would then be taken into the punishment room by the reception team and bound naked to the punishment trestle exactly ten minutes before their punishment was to start. They were instructed never to talk to a punishment officer unless spoken to first and any disobedience would incur a penalty.
Early in my employment even after I was trusted to work alone I was sometimes randomly assessed by a supervisor standing behind the one-way mirror in the wall next to where the video cameras were placed. After 6 months this supervision became less and less frequent and then stopped, and I was then confirmed as being a certified Officer and offered a full-time post.
Normally I take little interest in the identities or offence of the women I punish. They come in all shapes and sizes and all colours and creeds. Every Monday morning a list of offender's names and sentences with their appointment time and date with the punishment officer allocated to them is pinned on the wall on the common room where we can sit, chat, and have a tea or coffee. I always check this list to learn what my workload for each day will be.
One Monday morning I was reading the list when a familiar name leapt out at me: Victoria Green. Alongside her name, her date of birth and sentence: twenty-four birch strokes for repeated shoplifting, were printed. I did a double take, and then to make sure this was
THE
Victoria I went down to the administrative office and checked the address against her name, and sure enough it was David's old address.
She was timetabled to appear at the centre on 12.30 pm on the following Wednesday afternoon when I was scheduled to finish at 12 pm. Fortunately Victoria was due to be birched by a colleague Julia, and when I explained that I would like to be the one to discipline Victoria she was happy to ask for permission to be half an hour late for work because of a dental appointment, and I agreed to step in to take her place
It was not usual for the offender to be told the name of their punishment officer and I saw no reason for this to change.
And then, the following Wednesday at 12.28 pm I entered the punishment room
Victoria had been strapped to the punishment table in a kneeling position with her hands thighs and ankles firmly bound, and a strap was in place around her waist holding her fast against the padded leather bench and another over her upper back. He soft pale and amply rounded bum was perfectly positioned and immobilized for her correction. There would be no escape from the birch I held in my right hand although I looked forward to seeing her bum cheeks writhing in agony as pain built on pain.
