Tickets Please

It had started as a bit of fun. Mike and the boys had been off to a football game, and as ever, this meant a fair bit of alcohol on the train journey up. During a pretty turgid match, their only solace was to be found in winding up the opposition fans, and - of course - getting a couple more beers in. Then, after the final 3-1 defeat, the right and proper thing for a dedicated fan to do, was drown his sorrows. So, all in all, by the time the group of lads stepped aboard the train back, they were pretty well oiled. Which, at first glance, was an unfortunate turn of events for 23 year old Mollie, who as train manager was charged with checking tickets and keeping order.

Mollie could see the lads from a mile off. She heard them first, and sighed. Saturday shifts were such a pain. As she walked towards the group, the other passengers scowled pointedly at her, as if the disorder was her fault. Brave though she was, and despite her best assertive tone, Mollie could only do so much to quell the high spirits of a dozen drunken lads. And having done her level best to restore order, she turned to walk on. She was however stopped in her tracks by a sudden and forceful slap, which hit her squarely across the buttocks. She squealed. Red-faced, and quite probably red-cheeked, she turned to see Mike grinning at her.

"Nice ass, love."

"That's assault, that is."

"Wasn't me. Was it you, Dave?"

Dave got to his feet, swaying. Raising a can, he shouted "I'm Spartacus!" and as the other lads around him began to stand and shout the same, Mollie took a last disgusted look at them and flounced off angrily down the train. It was unfair, but she knew when she was beaten.

***

Two hours later, the train drew into the siding. As Mollie conducted her final checks prior to clocking off, she heard a distinct rumbling noise from the corner of carriage 'D'. Investigating further, she found Mike, slumped sideways, sound asleep, now with a pair of comedy eyebrows drawn onto his flushed face. She shook him. God, he stank of beer.

"Oy. You're not supposed to be here. Too much to drink I suppose?"

Mike rubbed his eyes groggily. "Where are we?"

"End of the line. Wait, you're the swine who slapped me earlier, aren't you?"

"Shit!! I was supposed to get off an hour ago. And um... yeah, sorry about that." He had the grace to look a little shame-faced. Suddenly, without his mates, Mike displayed a lot less bravado.

Mollie, however, was not in a forgiving mood.

"You know, two of the other passengers came up to me afterwards. They gave me their details and said they'd happily give statements about what you did. If I called the transport police now, you'd end up with a record. Sexual assault. I guess that would have some pretty serious consequences?"

Suddenly awake, Mike squinted at his adversary. Mollie was tall and stocky, with tightly curled red hair, possibly dyed. Her navy blue uniform was tightly fitted, perhaps a little too much so, and at the top of her thighs Mike thought he could make out the bands of the hold up stockings which showed below her knees, sheer and black. On her feet she wore black trainers. Quite attractive, Mike thought, but then he pulled himself together, recalling that he really needed to do something to defuse a potentially awkward situation. Leering probably wasn't the solution, particularly given his earlier conduct. He sighed.

"Look, I'm really sorry. Honestly. It was just supposed to be a laugh. I can see that it wasn't funny, and I was a dick. I apologise. Please, let's not get anyone else involved. I'm sure there must be something I can do to make things right. How about," he added, with a stroke of optimistic inspiration, "I stand you a drink or two?"

Mollie put her hands on her hips, and snorted. "A drink? I should think you'd damned well had enough already, young man." In reality, he was probably her age, or even a little older, but Mollie was in full-on teacher mode now. She paused, and thought for a moment.

"You humiliated me in front of the other passengers. And I bet I've still got your damn fingerprints on my backside. Tell you what. I'll repay the favour, and we'll call it quits."

Mike look puzzled. "I don't follow."

"I'm going to spank your ass. Not just once, mind, but until it's properly red. And it's going to hurt, I'll make sure of that. On the plus side, you'll avoid a court appearance and being branded as a sex offender for life. So: my way or the police way?"

Mike genuinely didn't know what to make of this. Fucking bizarre idea. What planet was she on? He quickly considered his options. They were in a siding. The doors were probably locked, and Molllie was right in front of him, blocking the way. Even if he could get off the train, there was no obvious way back to the road, without running across lines or through the manned ticket barrier. Amd his guess was that this station was probably big enough to have its own police outpost. Dammit. He really didn't see what options he had, given that a criminal record was out of the question.

"You're fucking weird. Ok, do it. Let's get this over, and I'll get home. Whatever."

Mollie smiled. She was going to enjoy this.

"Right, come with me. There's a disabled bay in first class with plenty of space. I can see to you there." This, she thought, was going to be quite therapeutic. For one of them, anyway.

***

"Trousers down, then." Mollie perched sideways on the chair, creating space on both sides.

"What?"

"Or not. Again, your choice. We do it my way, or... we don't." She pulled a mobile out of her pocket, and brandished it meaningfully.

"But..." Mike looked around, suddenly aware that the carriage was pretty much made of window after window, and they were illuminated in the deepening gloom of the early evening. "We might be seen!"

Mollie shook her head. "Not here. Unless another empty train pulls on, and the driver's looking sideways instead of ahead. Possible I guess, but believe me, you'll have other things on your mind. Now take them down, and come stand on my left."

Shell-shocked, Mike did as he was told, shuffling into position with his jeans puddled around his ankles. Without a word, Mollie took his left hand and pulled him across her lap. He was now dangling head down, staring at the floor, when he saw her reach down and undo the laces on one of her trainers. She slipped it off, and he could see her flexing her nylon-covered toes as she moved her leg back to a comfortable position.

"What are you doing?"

Years ago, they used to have corporal punishment in schools, you know," mused Mollie. "The teachers had several ways of getting their point across. One of them was the plimsoll. The sole can be quite painful, I'm told, when smacked hard into your bottom. Of course, I've no experience myself. But you can enlighten me in a minute."

Putting her plimsoll down on the samll of Mike's back, Mollie reached to the waistband of Mike's briefs, and pulled them down, exposing his bottom. Then she picked up her implement again. She tapped once, twice, three times. And finally, she raised her left arm and brought it down as hard as she could, hitting squarely across both butttocks with an explosive "whap".

"Fuck!" yelled Mike.

"Hush now. If you make noise then I'll have to work harder, to drown you out. And this is just the warmup."

Mike could see her leg tense as she used all of her strength to bring the plimsoll down a second time. Christ, he didn't know how much of this he could take.

"Ass slapping probably doesn't seem quite such a good idea at this point, does it? Is that stinging?"

"YES!"

"Yes 'miss', I think," said Mollie sternly. " It's time you showed a little respect." Mike felt her thigh tense again, and braced himself.

Again and again Mollie swiped. Mike lost count of how many times, and was now measuring his beating only by the increasing throb in his backside. At the same time, he became aware of Mollie's breathing growing heavier with exertion. Finally, she stopped, and shoved ed him forwards onto his knees.

"I can't get a decent swing like that. But I think you've had enough of a warmup now. Wait here. And keep those trousers down. We're not done."

Mike watched Mollie slip her shoe back on, walk to the train door, and step down onto the verge. She seemed to pause for a minute, then walked a few yards away and pulled at something on the verge. Finally, she climbed back aboard the train, with a satisfied expression. In her hand, Mollie was carrying what appeared to be a few long twigs. She smoothly moved her hand down the stem, removing the leaves.

"Now then, I want you kneeling on that seat over there. No, kneeling up, as tall as you can." Satisfied with the new position, Mollie reached down and pulled Mike's briefs right down to his knees, exposing the back of his thighs.

At this point, Mike wasn't too worried. She'd already done the damage, and he couldn't see what more she'd achieve with a few twigs. Quietly, he congratulated himself on getting through this. Half an hour and he'd be on a train back home - perhaps standing in the aisle, this time.

There was a high pitched whistle, and the first switch made contact. Mollie had aimed right at the base of Mike's bottom, in the crease, and she struck right through. Two things happened. Firstly, a bright red stripe appeared, with one or two spots which slowly became brighter where the skin had been cut and the blood showed through. Secondly, and almost simultaneously, Mike howled. How in god's name had a twig hurt that much?

"Stay there!" said Mollie. "You're getting twenty of those, and if you move, I'm starting again. We can be here as long as it takes."

Gasping for breath, Mike held tightly to the back of the chair, his knuckles white. He jolted forwards as the second stroke fell.

"Painful, is it? You won't be sitting for a while, you know." Mollie paused. "I'm talking to you!" She swiped again.

"Yessss! Yes, it hurts."

"Yes - " (swipe) "MISS!!"

"Yes miss, yes miss," Mike stammered.

By the eighth stroke, Mollie's switch was breaking, and she substituted it for a new one. Mike didn't even notice, now. By this point his bottom felt like it was entirely aflame, and he could barely discern the pain of new strokes from that of the old ones. At twenty, his ass was a glowing tapestry of bright red, small pinprick cuts, and purple blotches. Mollie regarded it with satisfaction.

"Now, get up and face me." Pulling his pants up, Mike did as he was told. Mollie sighed.

"Did I tell you to pull those up?"

"Erm... no, miss?"

"Then hold out your hands." Mike did so, and Mollie brought the switch down on both simultaneously. Twice. "Now pull them down again, and face me as you were told."

Mike did as instructed, and blushed as he turned to her with his flaccid penis on display. Mollie looked at him sternly. "What do you have to say to me?"

"I'm sorry, miss. Really sorry."

"And..?"

Mike thought. Panic stricken, he stared blankly at her. "Really, really sorry?"

"No, I want you to thank me. I'll be twenty minutes late off tonight. And I don't suppose I'll get overtime for thrashing a customer, do you?" Mollie grinned.

"Thank you," whispered Mike, broken.

"You're welcome. I'm sure you've learned a valuable lesson. Now make yourself decent, and we'll head back to the platform."

Wincing, Mike pulled his trousers gingerly over his thighs and ass. Mollie took him by the hand and led him down the steps. "Careful now. I expect you're a little stiff, sir? Oh, and" - she slipped a card into his hand - "do take one of these. Customer satisfaction cards. If you scan the QR code and review our service, you can win free travel tickets in future. And," she concluded, with a gentle pat on his bottom, " I do look forward to seeing you on board again."

Mike raised a comedy eyebrow at her, and hobbled painfully off towards the ticket office.

It was going to be a very uncomfortable trip home.