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Subject: {ASSM} Certificate of Correction  Pt 10 ( F/F, M/F spank, whip, cons, nc)
Date: Wed, 13 Sep 2000 15:10:03 -0400
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Certificate of Correction Pt 10

Why was I not surprised that we had not seen the last
of Anna Klochek? For a Carribean island, these people
were wrapped pretty tight. Now, it seemed, Erin and
Allison were in trouble for creating a scene as Susan
was being fastened to the whipping post. Harriet
blamed herself.

"Dammit, I should have told the girls--they don't
allow any vocal demonstations of any kind when
punishment is meted out. You noticed that it was
pretty silent even though everyone who had a window to
the courtyard, including other prisoners was
watching," she said as we hurried along.

"Yeah, I noticed that it was sort of quiet." You would
think that prisoners watching from the windows would
be hootin' and hollerin'.

"That's because they come down hard on other prisoners
who shout encouragement or who heckle. I've heard that
these violators pay a little visit to a soundproofed
upstairs room the next day. I didn't put too much
stock in the rumor because no one ever came to me
directly. I feel horrible I forgot to tell the girls
this."

We arrived at Ms Klochek's office. The lettering on
the door gave her title--Deputy Matron, Director of
Discipline. Director of Discipline--that figures. A
secretary looked up and buzzed an inner office.

"They're here."

Over the intercom came the voice of Anna Klochek.
"Send them in."

The secretary rose and indicated for us to follow. We
walked through an office that was apparantly Deputy
Klochek's and into a room beyond. What we saw there 
gave me a cold lump in the pit of my stomach.

Erin and Allison were upended over a pair of sturdy
padded stools, their hands and ankles bound by cuffs
to the legs of the stools. They had been in street
clothes, the dresses they had worn to court. The hems
of these dresses had been pulled up and secured at the
small of their backs with a strap. Panties had been
lowered to their ankles. Their bottoms were bare, red,
and swollen--the latter two characteristics the result
of this morning's tanning with the strap.

Anna Klochek stood in the center of the room, her
hands flexing a thin pliable cane protruding from a
handle. She was bending it into a semicircle. Then she
whooshed it through the air a few times. It made a
sickening whine. Two other guards stood off to the
side.

"You're just in time to witness a little supplemetary
punishment for your clients here, thanks to that
little disturbance of theirs. Our rules absolutely
forbid any catcalls or cheers on the part of
spectators. When prisoners break this rule we are
authorized to punish the offenders. And don't bother
calling. I have already spoken with the judge--he
witnessed the whole thing and he agrees with my
decision as Director of Discipline. They will receive
4 strokes each with the junior cane."

I was indignant. "You can't be serious. Four strokes
with that cane on top of what they have been
through--it's barbaric!" Both girls looked at me with
frightened eyes, helpless, hoping I could do
something.

Anna Klochek smiled and shrugged. "They should have
obeyed our rules. Now they pay. With their bare little
fannies."

"They didn't know there was a rule," I said. I was
getting pissed. This was purely a snide payback at
Harriet for noticing Klochek's mistake with the heavy
strap this morning. This woman had a heightened sense
of her own importance.

"Well...whose fault is that? Isn't it your business to
know these things and to advise your clients?"

"It's mine," said Harriet, looking Anna Klochek in the
eye. Harriet was wearing a suit with a short skirt,
white blouse and a jacket. She moved over to a table
and began to unbutton the jacket. "It's my fault so
cane me instead."

My jaw dropped. "Harriet you can't...". Her look
silenced me. "I know what I'm doing, Rollin." She had
decided. The determined look said it all.

One of the matrons chuckled and shook her head.
"Sorry, honey, nice try, but our procedures don't
permit..." Deputy Klochek held up her hand, stopping
her underling in mid sentence. Her face broke into a
broad smile.

"So, Mrs Reeves, you are willing to take the
punishment for these two?" indicating Erin and
Allison. "That's a very interesting proposition. How
courageous of you. I must say it's unusual. I've never
seen an attorney prepared to accept her client's
punishment as her own."

The other matron spoke. "Anna, you can't...". Anna
gave her a hard stare.
"Shut up, Officer Vasquez, this is my call and I can
do anything I want." Then she turned to Harriet,
regarding her thoughtfully. I could not take my eyes
off of thin thin flexible cane that she flexed with
her hands as she considered Harriet's offer. She could
bend it almost in a circle. "Hmmm...I'm inclined to
say yes to your proposal."

"You'll let the girls go. When this is done we leave,"
Harriet said evenly.

"Yes." 

"All right. We have an agreement."

"Yes we do," said Anna with a wide grin. " And I don't
mind telling you, Mrs Reeves, that I will enjoy this."
The smile vanished. " Now to business. That suit looks
like it would wrinkle. Would you be so kind as to take
it off?"

Harriet took a deep breath and unzipped the skirt. She
dropped it revealing an ensemble in white satin, a
garter belt holding sheer nylons, and panties. She
unbuttoned her blouse to show a white satin bra.
Lovely. Under other circumstances I would have been
dazzled--even as it was, I hated myself for my
developing erection.

"The girls," I said, gesturing to Erin and Allison
still bound over the stools.

"Oh, yes, release them," Ms Klochek nodded to Officer
Vasquez. The assistants unbuckled the girls who rose
on unsteady legs, pulled their panties back up, and
smoothed their dresses back down. Their faces bore
looks of genuine relief which then turned to looks of
concern at Harriet's plight.

Harriet had stipped down to bra, garter belt and
nylons, and panties. Anna Klochek pointed the cane
toward the near stool. "Would you be so kind as to
assume the position, Mrs Reeves? Over the stool
please, bottom well up."

Harriet took a deep breath and lowered herself face
down across the padded top. Her luscious bottomcheeks
were turned up and in perfect position for the cane.

"Fasten her down." Two assistant matrons lept do do Ms
Klochek's bidding.

Harriet turned her head. "Tying me down isn't
necessary. I won't get up."

"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs Reeves--regulations you know. All
punishees must be restrained. This will hurt a bit,
I'm afraid, and you might jump up and injure
yourself."

They buckled her wrists and ankles in and drew the
strap across the small of her back. Harriet was
completely immobile. Klochek circled her, moving to
her front, still flexing the whippy cane. She paused
in front of Harriet, idly swishing the wand back and
forth. 

"Eight strokes, Mrs Reeves. After all, someone must
pay for that unseemly outburst."

"What?" I interrupted. "Each of the girls were going
to get only 4. Harriet should get no more than that." 

"It's 8. Take it or I strap your clients back down
over these stools."

"This is illegal and you know it. Don't push it." The
reaction of Klochek's two assistants had told me that
Anna was way out of bounds. It may have been a bluff
but it was a good one.

Her eyes narrowed sharply. Then she shrugged. "Very
well, 6, and it stays in this room."

Harriet raised her head slightly and nodded. I looked
at Anna Klochek.
"Done."

She wasted no time. Moving to Harriet's rear, she took
a stance and lined up the cane, tapping it gently
against Harriet's nether cheeks. Harriet tensed at the
sensation of the cane touching her bared seat. Ms
Klochek raised her arm to shoulder level and whipped
the cane down in a blur. It made a distinct whining
sound before it impacted the crowns of Harriet's
buttocks with a sharp retort. The fleshy mounds
rippled and a red line appeared.

Harriet told me later that she had been totally
unprepared for the searing line of pure agony that
that first swipe of the cane caused her. It felt like
a white hot wire, she said, and the pain spread out
from her bottom to engulf her nervous system totally.

When the stroke hit, Harriet's head flew back, her
fingers splayed out, and her whole body jerked at the
shock. Klochek stepped back, savoring the moment.
Harriet had gasped sharply but had not cried out. The
blonde matron paced, swishing the cane, waiting.
Harriet said later that this must have been
deliberate. She knew how to time the strokes because
the pain actually peaked several seconds after the
cane struck. The skill in timing was to catch the
penitant just as the pain was subsiding, because that
was when the dread of the next one was starting to
build.

She took her stance again. Swisshhh...thwack! Harriet
writhed. A second red line appeared. 30 seconds went
by. More pacing by Klochek.

SWisshh...thwick! "Arrhh...ah...ah.." Harriet fought
to keep her composure under the onslaught of stinging
agony from the whippy cane.

Erin and Allison looked on, horrified. Three vivid
weals spaced about half an inch apart adorned
Harriet's bare wriggling fanny.

Sweee.....huick! "Ahh....oh God, please...ah...ah.."

"Beginning to feel it I see, Mrs Reeves." The blonde
matron smiled. She was in her element. "That's good. I
like to know that the message is getting through."

She lined up for another stinging cut. Harriet jerked
as she felt the gentle tap-tap -tap, then...

Ssswwwiiissshhh....thwack! The hardest one yet,
delivered with the full force of Anna Klochek's arm.

Harriet lost it. "Yeeeowwww...arhhh....nnnhhh..." she
shrieked. A look of triumph came over Anna Klochek's
face.

Klochek didn't rush the last one. I sensed she wanted
to savor it. Her obvious objective--the delivery of
maximum pain within the strictures of our little
agreement.

She planted her feet at Harriet's left side then
raised the menacing cane for the sixth time.

Swiiissshhh....thwack! Harriet's body jerked and she
let out a plaintive wail. A sixth weal appeared.
Harriet sobbed, partly because of the atrocious pain,
partly in relief that the ordeal was over. She could
not control the sobbing even as she was let up. She
had been whipped. Well and truly whipped in every
sense of the word.

****************************************************************

Later as we lay naked in Harriet's apartment, she
would tell me that she had never in her life felt
anything that compared to the sheer agony that she had
endured that day. It was like the cane burned through
you, she said, imprinting its fire on your brain. It
felt like the world consisted of only two things...a
cane and a bottom. One to bring fire, the other to
endure it.

I kissed the weals of course, and spread cold cream on
her buttocks. Next I crouched behind her and stuck my
tongue as far as it would go into her musky sweetness.
I flicked the little bud over and over and ran my
tongue up and down the moistened slit. She was
curiously on the boil, well juiced, as if the caning
had awakened some primordial need for sex, as if the
pleasure could go on and on, obliterating the fire
ignited by the kiss of the cane. 

Then she rode me. Too sore to be on her back, she
teased my cock to a hard upright erection with her
mouth then with me on my back, she mounted me. She
rode me like a wild woman, alternately upright bucking
furiously then lying on top gringing her hips,
squeezing my erection like she wanted to milk it dry.

Later we lay spoon style on our sides and fucked
slowly, torturously slowly. I tried to be careful not
to press too hard on her wealed behind. I gave her a
languid shafting that gathered steam slowly. The
delicious friction of my hard penis sliding in and out
of her slickened vagina was making us both deleirious
with pleasure. She wanted me to speed up. I resisted.
Our climaxes built like a slow moving freight train
gathering speed. When neither of us could stand it any
more, I let go. So did she. Later, still sore and
unable to sit comfortably, she said that the sex we
had just had had been the most intense she could
remember.

"Still, I don't advise a full swinging bare butt
caning as foreplay," she said as we stood, drinks in
hand, on her veranda. It was three days later. I had
put Erin, Allison and Susan on a plane for Miami the
evening of the day they had been flogged. They were
only too happy to get off the island.

"What will you do now?" I said. "Still want to stay
down here?"

"Despite all that happened, I still rather like it. Do
you want to stay in dreary Ohio?"

"You know, I could get used to this," I mused. Pina
colada in hand, sun sinking into the ocean, gentle
breezes wafting. "Is this a proposition, Mrs Reeves?"

"It is. And you can drop the Mrs."

I told her I liked the sound of it. Hand and Reeves,
attys. Specialists in defending smacked bots of all
stripes. I told her it was too bad her last name
wasn't Crop or Kane or something. I paid for that last
remark, but that's another story.



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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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