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Subject: {ASSM} Certificate of Correction  Pt 7 ( F/F, M/F spank, whip, cons, nc)
Date: Wed, 13 Sep 2000 15:10:05 -0400
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Certificate Of Correction Ch 7

We went to Harriet's favorite spot for lunch. I
thought about the "lunch" that the girls were probably
getting. I had called Linnea and given her the bad
news. She was disappointed but later philosophical
about the punishment the girls were to receive in the
morning. 

"A good whipping never did anybody any harm," she
mused." It hurts like hell, though. Believe me, I
know. My father, your great uncle, was a firm believer
in the corrective power of a good strapping for
disobedience and I found myself being marched out to
the barn on more than several occasions growing up. He
raised some welts on my behind with a harness strap, I
can tell you. I guess Erin could be bruised a bit but
that's to be expected. Don't get me wrong. I feel
sorry for Erin and her friends, and it must be scary,
being in jail, but Lord, those girls brought it on
themselves. Drugs! And they knew better!" Softening,
she added, "You'll look out for her, I know, Rollin.
Just...just...make sure it's legal--I mean how they do
it, you know?"

I told Linnea that my collegue had assured me that
they followed a strict procedure, before , during and
after. I even put Harriet on the line to tell her that
the punishment is designed to be painful but not cause
permanent injury. That's scant consolation when you
know that at 10pm the next morning you're going to be
whipped as hard as a sturdy matron can manage, I
thought.

Harriet told me to meet her on the street outside the
compound at 5pm. That would be when the punishment
detail would bring Susan out to prepare the switches
for the birch rod to be used on her the next day. 

When I arrived outside the grounds to the Justice
Center there were about 20 people standing around.
Most looked like islanders although there were a few
tourists. A grove of willow trees took up one corner
of the greenspace inside the iron fence shutting the
grounds off from the rest of the world. I sidled up to
Harriet who regarded the crowd with a dour expression.

"Voyeurs," said Harriet disgustedly, waving her hand
at the onlookers. "They've got nothing better to do
than watch some poor girl be humiliated. They must get
this vicarious thrill knowing that the girl they see
out here cutting and skinning switches is going to get
her bottom whipped in the morning."

Just like Madame LaFarge at the foot of the
guillotine, I thought-- a few "courthouse rats" with
too much time on their hands. They were talking
excitedly and avidly reading the notice displayed at
the entrace gate announcing the fact that one Susan
Pemberton, having been convicted of drug possession,
would receive 36 lashes with the island birch on the
morrow in the courtyard.

"Serves 'em right, I say," proclaimed a stolid matron
loudly. "These little madames parading around in their
little thong bikinis should all have their behinds
whipped. Yes indeed. Whipped real hard!" she added,
eyes aglow.

I surmised that it would do no good to point out to
her that the punishment had nothing to do with thong
bikinis. She was obviously rapturous over the prospect
of a good flogging for any attractive young woman who
could display herself in a thong bikini. 

At about five we could see a small procession emerging
from the side of the building. It was Susan with two
matrons and a guard. Susan wore the tight regulation
denims and a halter top. I decided that she was a tiny
bit bottom heavy--still very attractive--the slender
waist maybe offset her swelling bottomcheeks, making
them look all the more prominent, perhaps. They
stopped at the grove of willow and I could see the
matron pointing to several choice switches. She the
handed Susan a small scissor-like pruning tool. Susan
stood up on tiptoe throwing her bounteous bottom into
stark relief as she reached to cut the indicated
withes. Even from where I stood I could see her
blushing with shame at having to perform such an
ignominious task. The catcalls and comments from the
watchers added to her humiliation.

"Look at the ass on that one--she'll get it good."

"Yeah, they've got a lot to work with--that's a butt
that's going to get a right smart whippin'."

"She'll be standing up on the plane for sure. I heard
they're deporting her right aftewrwards."

"Ralph--stop ogling. She'll be getting that fanny
whipped good and proper--a taste of our island
justice. Ralph, you disgusting oaf, you're practically
drooling. Well, that's enough of this. I should cut a
switch for you at home. Come along." Ralph reluctantly
trotted after the formidable housewife like a puppy.

"It says it's to be 36 strokes. Ouch! She'll feel that
for a long time."

"Hey, sweetie, just remember", called out some jerk in
the throng, "--this hurts us more than it'll hurt
you." General laughter followed.

"Grin and bare it, honey, grin and bare it." More
chuckles.

Susan must have been mortified. I know she was trying
to ignore the remarks, but I could not imagine the
shame inflicted by a bunch of strangers looking on and
discussing your imminent whipping like it was a circus
sideshow.

They cut quite a few switches. Harriet told me that
their regulations called for one rod per dozen
strokes. As Susan cut where they told her, a matron
took and trimmed the switches to length using a
yardstick to measure. We understood that 30" was the
uniform length specified.
It took all of 15 minutes to complete this mortifying
chore, but I'm sure that for Susan they were long
minutes, though probably not as long as the 15-20
minutes that it would take tommmorrow for them to give
her the actual punishment. The trimmed and peeled
switches were tied in a bundle and the punishment
detail escorted Susan back to the compound. I have to
confess, I was watching the gentle sway of her sexy
rear in those tight denims as she walked away.

Harriet and I retired to her house that evening. There
was nothing more to be done. Harriet changed into a
very fetching sundress made of some thin cotton. She
made us some fruit concoction with rum in it, and
brought the pitcher over to the table in front of the
sofa.  "If we tried to mount some sort of appeal or PR
campaign we would only prolong this thing, and in the
end the girls would be whipped anyway, right?" I just
wanted to confirm this. I sort of felt that maybe we
hadn't done everything we could have.

"Right," said Harriet. "This island is rough for law
'n order. Especially drugs. I know how they think. If
they let these girls off with a scolding it sends the
wrong message. As I told you, they use the birch for
petty thievery too. I had a client a few months
back--court appointed, you know, we all get them.
Pretty girl. Single mom. Two young children. She says
she didn't lift anything from the store, that it was a
mistake. I believed her, and I told her she'd sound
and look good to a jury. Well, they offered her 24
strokes for a guilty plea. She couldn't raise the
money for bail and she had those two kids to take care
of--so she opted for the birch." 

"She did a lively dance, Rollin. When they commenced
to whipping her little seat she was stoic at first,
then she started yelping and squirming. At the end she
shrieked and cried like a baby. They took their time,
too-- 24 slow deliberate strokes in the noonday sun.
She said later that at first it stung like bees and
then like a slow fire building up. Not so bad at first
but then as the pain builds on top of itself it takes
your breath away. By about number six she was yelping
and dancing. But you know, by 20 she was doing sort of
a slow grind against the bar...." Her voice trailed
off and her eyes had a distant look.

"Is this how you learned all this? the procedure, I
mean? Through this client?"

" What?" She'd been distracted. "Oh, yeah, she was my
first. This was all new. I had done a little bit of
everything, you know, divorce, wills, real
estate--even some juvenile and criminal stuff. The
corporal punishment law had been in effect for about 3
years before I got here. At first I was appalled, but
I don't know--it's probably better in a lot of cases
than jail. And for women it's not really brutal in the
sense of injury or scars, but it stings like hell.
Also, it's more shameful. You know, to get your ass
whipped like that. Frankly, I think there's a sexual
element too. In fact," her voice dropped to a
conspiratorial level, "I've heard that some women even
become ah...aroused by a birching." She blushed as she
said it. It brought something back to me that she'd
said the previous night. I couldn't pin it down--it
was hanging on the edge of my memory--out of focus.

I acknowleged that I knew something about this, and
under the influence of Harriet's island punch or
whatever, started to tell her about Karen and her
experiment with the "sandal". Her eyes grew wide as
the tale unfolded. I guess we'd both had a few drinks.
Harriet flushed as the details poured out. I could
swear her nipples hardened, from what I could see
through the thin top of her dress. Something was going
on with her.

"You spanked her?" she said breathlessly. I nodded.
"Over her skirt?" I shook my head. "Nooo...on her
...panties?" Another head shake. "Bare... er,
bottomed?" A yes nod. "I can't believe this! This was
a...an experiment? And then what? Tell me!" She was
visibly excited. She licked her lips, eyes shining.

"Well...the sex was pretty.. ah..intense."

"Oh, my! Rollin! And I always thought you were so very
proper with us ladies. Now I know how naughty you
are," she teased, "and a brute as well." She was
trying to compose herself. She paused, then asked,
"Did you put her across your knee like some bratty
little girl?" I nodded. "So you put her over your
knee, pulled down her pants and gave her a spanking
just so she could feel what a correctional paddling
felt like. And then you...then you..."

"That's about the size of it."

"I wonder about the size of it," she giggled.

"Now who's being naughty?"

"Well, Rollin you come in here looking all fine and
fit and start telling tales of spankings for girls on
their bare bottoms...what's a lady to do?" Her voice
was now an octave lower and she leaned toward me. I
grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to me. She
mashed her lips to mine and we kissed, deeply, her
furtive tongue seeking mine. My hand found her breast
and I palmed it gently pinching the erect nipple. She
groaned with pleasure. I stood up pulling her with me.
She pulled away for a moment then unzipped the little
sundress. It fell to the floor leaving her in a wispy
bra and thong panties. Wow! She was gorgeous. She was
sort of long waisted with baseball sized perky breasts
and wide flaring hips. Now as we resumed the kiss my
hands roamed her sumptuous seat, caressing and
kneading the resilient mounds. She responded with a
low moan and by grinding her pelvis against mine.

 We moved back to the couch. I sat down and cradled
her face up in my lap and continued kissing her while
my hand caressed her breasts. After awhile I slid my
hand between her legs. Yep, the gusset of the thong
was slippery wet. She groaned as I slid my fingers up
and down her slit. She started humping against my hand
then stopped. She propped herself halfway up.

"Try it on me," she said in a throaty whisper. I
thought, "Huh?" But I got her meaning as she turned
over and crawled face down across my lap, stretching
her body out along the couch, her hips cocked over my
right thigh. Her impudently rounded bottomcheeks
jutted up, soft, inviting. She looked back at me. "Go
ahead, spank me. I want to see what it feels like.
Smack my bottom."

"You want me to spank you?"

"Umm...yes. The idea of it gets me hot. I just want to
feel what it's like to get a real fanny warming. You
will won't you? Don't you think I have a nice fanny?"
And she gave it a little wiggle. Who could resist?

"As you wish, my dear." I patted and rubbed the fleshy
mounds. She purred, and arched her fanny up even
higher. Then I started smacking her with little half
force slaps. Her rear wobbled deliciously, and she
gasped in pleasure. I spanked from side to side,
slowly to let her absorb each one. She writhed and
ground her hips in response to each one. Then I picked
up the pace, briskly spanking now. She let out a
stream of "Oh...oh...oh" as my palm went smack! smack!
smack! Her bottom was getting pink now, then hot pink
as I spanked a little harder. These spanks were
interspersed with rubbing, kneading and a few trips by
my hand to that wet spot between her legs. Then I
landed about ten good hard smacks, in a right! left!
right! left! pattern. She gave a squeal and ground her
hips into my lap.
"Oooh....Rollin..that stung!" she bleated.

"Well this is a spanking you know. It's supposed to
sting."

And with that I delivered another 10, this time medium
hard. My hand struck firmly, flattening each jouncy
summit. The delicious mounds gave a little quiver and
than spang back to their original rounded shape as
each solid smack landed.

Smack! A firm crack to her left cheek.
"Owwww....Rollin!"
Smack! Another one to the other side.
"Oooh....ahhhh...!"
Smack! Smack!
"Ouch! Ouch!" She gave a little jump and kicked her
legs.

I kept it up, alternately smacking her bouncing
derriere soundly and pausing to rub. When I did this
she humped her hips, ginding her pelvis on my leg. Her
bottom color changed from pink to hot pink to a tomato
red hue as I continued her sexy chastisement. She
started humping in time now, pushing her bottom up to
meet my descending hand. I could sense she might be
close to cumming.
 After a fast flurry of about a dozen, I stopped and
pulled her up. Her mouth was a wide "O" and she rubbed
her cheeks as she knelt on the couch, her eyes
shining, her chest heaving.

"Now I know what all the fuss is about," she said.
"Ooo...I'm hot. Everywhere. Mmmm, that was wonderful,"
she breathed and slid to the floor kneeling between my
legs. She undid my zipper and pulled out my rock hard
penis. "Did spanking me do all that?" she said licking
her lips. I could only groan in assent because she
proceeded to slip my member between her lips and swirl
her tongue around the head. I was lost in a paroxism
of pleasure. She eventually stopped, shucked down my
pants and slipped off her bra and thong. My cock was
sticking straight up as she lowered herself on it and
started to pump up and down. The sliding friction was
exquisite. She was moaning now and pumping harder and
faster. She came in a shuddering climax, shaking like
a rag doll. I came a second or two later, pushing up
with my hips, banging against her pelvic bone. We
collapsed in each other's arms, breathless and spent.
Until we recovered, that is. The next one was longer
and more leisurely. Finally, exhausted, we fell asleep
in each other's arms.


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