A teenage English girl in trouble abroad
By Kenny Walters
The door swung open and Sergeant Yim, an attractive Asian girl in her mid-twenties, stepped into the office and saluted. “The English girl, sir.”
“Thank you, sergeant. Show her in.” Inspector Matthews waited while the sergeant went back outside and led in a pretty English girl in her late teens, dressed in what seemed to the inspector to be the standard uniform of young foreign tourists, faded blue jeans and white cotton top. She was a pretty girl, nice full figure and honey blonde hair that draped around her shoulders.
“Take a seat, Miss Dawlish.” The grey haired inspector, a tall immaculately uniformed man in his mid-fifties studied the file of papers on his desk. “Got yourself into a spot of bother, haven’t you Miss Dawlish?”
“I can explain.” Jenny Dawlish felt instantly relieved the moment she saw the typically English police officer. Now, she would be able to put her side of the case, knowing her words would be clearly understood.
“No, Miss Dawlish, I will explain.” As Inspector Matthews stopped her in her tracks, Jenny didn’t try to hide her astonishment at being spoken to so abruptly. “The case is a simple one. You were found with a quantity of drugs in your hotel room. You have been quite correctly charged with possession!”
“Yes, Inspector, but it wasn’t mine! I was merely looking after those suitcases for someone I met at the airport.”
“Oh, I see!” The inspector said rather mockingly. “This would be a female travelling companion of yours, would it? A good friend you could trust with your life, perhaps?”
“No. It was a man. A complete stranger, I’m afraid.”
“So where is this person? Why hasn’t he returned for his suitcases? The other items inside were not things a man would have carried. Anyway, in the eyes of this government it makes no difference. There are countless signs at the airport telling you not to accept baggage from strangers without checking them very carefully, are there not?”
“Yes, but I never thought.”
“You should have, Miss Dawlish. You have been charged with possession of illicit drugs. That is a very serious offence indeed!” After pausing to allow the gravity of the situation to sink into the mind of the hapless girl, the inspector continued. “The purpose of this interview is for me to explain the legal processes, to indicate what options you have, and to arrange legal representation for you if you so wish.”
“Yes, I do wish.” Jenny was feeling quite disappointed with her fellow Englishman, now it was clear he was not taking her side.
“Hear me out first, please Miss Dawlish.” The inspector cautioned. “It may save you greater difficulty later.”
Jenny didn’t reply, but sat back in the small hard chair, folded her arms and awaited the policeman’s counsel.
“You have basically two options, Miss Dawlish. If you really feel you can convince a court of your innocence then of course you should plead not guilty. I will arrange for a lawyer to represent you, a good one mind, and you will have your day in court. Be warned, though. If you are found guilty, the penalties are very severe. You could be looking at a considerable number of years in prison, and our prisons out here are not the cushy affairs you get in theUK.”
Jenny’s face was drawn tight as she listened. She had indeed already heard of the dire consequences of being caught in possession of drugs. Some had even faced the death penalty, although, thankfully, that had not so far been mentioned where Jenny was concerned. “You mentioned two options, Inspector.”
“Yes, Miss Dawlish. The other option is for you to plead guilty. In that event, you would not need to appear before a court. You would be asked to write a statement confessing your guilt, and mentioning any mitigating features, which would be given to a judge to read and pass sentence. Because you avoid wasting valuable court time, the sentences are far more lenient.”
“You mentioned a long prison sentence if a court found me guilty, Inspector. What would be the likely sentence if I pleaded guilty, as in the second option.”
“Far more lenient, Miss Dawlish.” The inspector seemed pleased Jenny was at least considering this possibility.
“So, what? A year in jail?” Jenny suggested.
“Probably two to three years, Miss Dawlish. There is, however, another option open to you if you plead guilty. You may also choose to receive corporal punishment.”
“Yes. A caning. Ten or twelve strokes I would think in your case, although that may be open to a little negotiation.”
“A caning? Ten or twelve strokes? You must be joking!” As soon as she’d uttered the words, Jenny’s mind went back to some newspaper or magazine article she’d read, where canings had indeed been inflicted for relatively trivial offences. “But canings here are very harsh, aren’t they?”
“They’re certainly quite firm, Miss Dawlish.” the Inspector smiled. “Although not as bad as some of our neighbouring territories. A bit like the old school, I would say.”
“They didn’t have corporal punishment at my school, Inspector.”
The Inspector shrugged. “Anyway, Miss Dawlish, those are your options. Have your day in court, but be prepared for a long prison sentence if you are convicted. Plead guilty and face a shorter prison sentence or a caning.”
“Those are pretty tough options!”
“They’re meant to be, Miss Dawlish.”
“I’m finding this all quite terrifying, Inspector. Is it possible to talk this over with someone before I decide?”
“Of course. I’ve asked the British Consulate to send someone over. Let’s see if they’re here yet.” Inspector Matthews picked up the telephone and spoke rapidly in the local Malaysian dialect. After he’d replaced the receiver, he told Jenny: “They’ve arrived. Sergeant Yim will escort you.”
Before Jenny had a chance to speak, Sergeant Yim, the Asian female sergeant, took Jenny by the arm and yanked her to her feet. Jenny was then led roughly along the corridor and pushed into a small interview room in which sat another attractive young female in her early twenties of clearly English appearance.
“Miss Dawlish? Hello. I’m Pauline Frobisher.” Seeing the dazed expression on Jenny’s face, the tall young woman dressed in a cool white trousers suit added in her rich upper class accent: “From the British Consulate.”
The pair shook hands, and Pauline Frobisher waved Jenny into a small upright chair opposite the small but solid table the young British Consular official was sitting at. Miss Frobisher poured them both a cold drink from a jug on the table.
“Mind if I call you Jenny? Call me Pauline. Got yourself into a bit of a mess, I hear Jenny!”
“You could say that, Pauline.”
“I presume Inspector Matthews has explained your various options, has he?”
“Plead not guilty and spend years in jail. Plead guilty and spend a couple of years in jail. That what you mean, Pauline?” Jenny snarled.
“Yes there are certain benefits to pleading guilty, if indeed you are guilty, Jenny.” The young British Consular official ignored Jenny’s angry response. “Are you guilty of the offence you’ve been charged with?”
“Well, I was caught with quite a large quantity of cocaine in my room.” Jenny moderated her tone. “But it was in a suitcase I was looking after for someone I met at the airport.”
“No excuse, I’m afraid Jenny.” Pauline Frobisher shook her head firmly, albeit with some sympathy etched on her attractive features.
“So, you’re saying I should plead guilty?”
“If that’s your only defence, yes! There are signs all over the airport telling people not to do exactly what you did for this very reason. It’s a favourite ploy of drug traffickers!”
“Right.” Jenny sighed deeply as she realised her stupidity in trusting a complete stranger, even if he was so charming and convincing. “Okay, so now I’ve got myself into this mess, how do I get out of it?”
“By pleading guilty, I’d say Jenny.”
“Oh great! The Inspector reckoned I’d get two to three years in prison, even with a guilty plea.” Jenny looked around the sparsely furnished room, still angry with herself for her foolishness, and for the intractable judicial system she was having to contend with. After a few moments, her mood mellowed. “What do you reckon I’d get, Pauline?”
“I’d trust Inspector Matthews’ judgement in such things, Jenny. Two to three years sounds about right.”
“Oh grief!” Jenny exclaimed, close to tears. “I don’t think I could stand being locked up for all that time!”
Pauline took both Jenny’s hands in an effort to comfort the distraught teenager. “Didn’t the Inspector mention another option?”
Jenny looked at the young Consular official in surprise and disbelief. “You mean cor… corp…?”
“Corporal punishment, yes.” Pauline found the words Jenny was having difficulty in expressing.
“I couldn’t!” Jenny dismissed the idea.
“Why not?” Again, Jenny stared at the other girl in disbelief. “It would bloody hurt! That’s why not!” She exclaimed.
“Well, yes.” Pauline conceded. “But then two to three years in prison wouldn’t exactly be a picnic. Certainly not in a Malaysian jail!”
“That’s what Inspector Matthews said.”
“I’m sure he’s quite correct.”
“So you’re seriously suggesting I take a caning, are you Pauline?”
“In a nutshell, Jenny, yes I am.”
“And you know about being caned, do you Pauline?”
“You’re hardly the first British girl to have fallen prey to a drug trafficker, Jenny. In fact, you’re the fifth girl I’ve dealt with.”
Jenny blinked. It hadn’t occurred to her there might have been others, similarly foolish, before her. ”What did the others do?”
“Four took the cane. The other is serving three years hard labour, and probably wishing she’d taken the caning.”
“How many strokes did they get?”
“Between eight and twelve.”
“Sounds bloody painful!”
“Not pleasant, but bearable, I’d say.”
“How would you know?” Jenny became resentful again. “You haven’t had it, have you?”
“Had a couple of stingers at school, actually!” Pauline grinned sheepishly.
“I don’t think that’s quite the same thing!” Jenny snapped.
“Not terribly dissimilar, really.” Pauline replied wistfully, seemingly ignorant of Jenny’s petulant attitude.
Jenny paused to reflect, then looked seriously at the young and attractive British Consular official. “I don’t have any bloody choice, do I?”
“Well, you do.”
“I couldn’t stand it.”
“That does leave you just the one option, then, doesn’t it?”
“Okay, what do I have to do?”
“You’ll take the caning?” Pauline Frobisher queried.
“Yes!” Jenny sighed. “I have no choice.”
“Okay. First you have to write a statement admitting your guilt. You can point out any mitigating features of your case, but don’t write too much – the judges don’t like wading through reams of script. It’s always good to apologise, and to say you’re keen to take your punishment. I’ve got a statement form here.” The young British Consular official reached for her briefcase and began hunting through its contents. “Here it is!”
Jenny took the statement form, borrowed a pen from Pauline Frobisher, and started writing.
“Don’t dwell too much on it being someone else’s suitcase.” Pauline advised. “Say you know you were foolish to have taken it in and leave it at that, although as full a description of the errant young man as you can give would be helpful.”
Jenny continued writing for several minutes, then put the pen down and handed Pauline the statement to read. The young Consular official studied Jenny’s efforts, slowly nodding her approval. Eventually, Pauline returned the document.
“You didn’t mention being keen to take your punishment and learn your lesson.”
“Keen to take a caning? Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Pauline Frobisher looked straight back at Jenny. “It would be in your best interests.”
Jenny snatched the pen up and recommenced writing. Soon, she banged the pen down and handed the paper back to Pauline. “Better?”
The young Consular official studied the revisions carefully. “Yes, that’s much better.”
“So, what happens now?”
“I’ll pop along and see Inspector Matthews.” Pauline Frobisher placed Jenny’s statement on the table and showed the teenager where to sign. “We can probably get this all sorted out in an hour.”
Jenny was left waiting in the small interview room while Pauline Frobisher took the statement to Inspector Matthews. She ran through her mind again and again her gullibility in falling for the stranger’s story, and wished so much she could have her time again. At least, though, she’d found something of an ally in Pauline Frobisher. Jenny wasn’t sure what Pauline had meant by getting everything sorted out in an hour. Would the authorities allow her bail, and trust her to present herself at the appointed time? That dreaded time when Jenny would have to face the consequences of her foolishness.
The hour passed slowly, and an additional ten minutes went by before Jenny heard footsteps in the corridor outside. They stopped outside the door to the little interview room. Jenny caught just a glimpse of Sergeant Yim standing outside as Pauline Frobisher entered the room carrying her briefcase and a small brown paper bag. Jenny looked up, expectantly.
“All done!” Pauline announced with a sense of satisfaction, then she noticed Jenny’s anxious stare. “Ten strokes, I’m afraid Jenny.”
“It could have been worse, Jenny.” Pauline went on the defensive. “It could easily have been twelve, or even more.”
“Isn’t there any room for negotiation?”
“I’m afraid not, Jenny.” The attractive young Consular official adopted an expression of sympathy. “I’ve done the best I can for you.”
“So, what happens now?”
“I just need you to sign this form, Jenny.” Pauline placed a small document in front of Jenny. “It says you accept the penalty awarded by the court and agree to the sentence being carried out.”
Jenny glanced briefly at the document and quickly focused on the dotted line where her signature was required. As she signed, she asked: “When will it be carried out?” The tremor in her voice was very noticeable.
Pauline Frobisher ignored the question, took the signed document and in return handed Jenny the brown paper bag. “Here, you’ll need to change into this.”
Slightly bemused, Jenny took the paper bag and peered inside. It contained a folded piece of a pretty pale blue floral material. “What’s this?” Jenny asked suspiciously as she removed the material from the bag.
“You need to change into it.” Pauline Frobisher repeated. “Now.”
As Jenny unfolded the material, she found it comprised a short smock-like dress. “Why do I have to change into this?” She asked.
“Just put it on, Jenny!” Pauline snapped, somewhat impatiently.
“Yes here, Jenny! This may not be the ideal changing room, but it is quite private. Sergeant Yim’s on guard outside. No-one will come in.”
“I hadn’t realised it would be carried out so soon.” Jenny commented as she stood up and pulled off her white cotton top, revealing her white bra.
“Best to get it over with, I’d say.”
“Perhaps. Then again, it might make it easier if I had a bit of time to come to terms with what they’re going to do to me, Pauline.” Jenny looked at the Consular official hopefully.
When Pauline said nothing, but merely waited and watched, Jenny kicked off her shoes and slowly unfastened the front of her jeans. The teenager felt quite self-conscious as she eased the jeans down and then worked them over her feet and right off. She placed the jeans and her white top over the back of the chair she’d been sitting on and pushed her shoes under the chair.
Wearing just white cotton knickers and bra, Jenny picked up the pale blue smock and eased it over her head. It was a bit of a struggle to find the armholes and to thread her arms through the narrow openings, but soon Jenny was able to let the smock fall down over her body where it reached the middle of her thighs.
“Not the trendiest dress I’ve ever worn.” Jenny commented as she looked down at how the thin cotton dress appeared on her.
“You can keep your bra on.” Pauline ignored the remark. “But you’ll have to take your knickers off, of course.”
“Take my pants off? Why?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jenny!”
Rather chastened, Jenny reached under the smock and started to ease her white pants down off her hips, keeping herself as covered by the material of the smock as she could. She placed the underwear on the chair with her other clothes.
“I thought they would cane me on my back, Pauline.” Jenny tried to explain her naivety when she questioned the need to remove her knickers.
“They do. Well, your bottom anyway.”
“Just on the bottom?”
“Yes, like at school.”
“They didn’t have corporal punishment at my school, Pauline.”
“Didn’t they?” The Consular official seemed quite disinterested. “So, are you ready?”
“Presumably they’ll tie me to some kind of frame, will they?” Jenny ignored Pauline’s question. “I seem to recall some sort of A-frame in a TV documentary I saw once.”
“No.” Pauline smiled warmly. “Nothing like that, Jenny. Much less formal. Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry? They’re going to thrash my backside with a bloody great cane and I shouldn’t worry?”
Jenny, I’ve seen the cane they use and it isn’t that big. It’s only about three feet long and quite thin. It’s just like the ones they used at school. My school, anyway.”
“Oh, shall I bend over the table then?” Jenny suggested sarcastically. “Like a naughty schoolgirl?”
“Yes please, Jenny, if you’re ready. Do you want me to call them in?”
“I said, yes please Jenny.”
“You want me to bend over this table?”
“If you’re ready to take your punishment.” Pauline Frobisher got up from behind the table and moved her briefcase to the side of the room.
Jenny watched with mounting panic. “Could I have a glass of water, please Pauline?” The eighteen year old felt her mouth become suddenly dry.
“Perhaps afterwards, Jenny.” Pauline smiled weakly, sensing the request was little more than a delaying ploy.
“Are you ready?”
Jenny nodded, her eyes closed as though that might hide from her mind the frightful consequences of her consent. When she opened them again, Inspector Matthews and Sergeant Yim, hands clasped behind their backs, were standing with Pauline Frobisher.
“Jenny has signed the form consenting to the punishment being carried out, Inspector.” Pauline held the form out for Inspector Matthews to inspect.
“Good.” The inspector’s face tightened as he brought his hands to the front, and Jenny could see for the first time the yellow rattan cane with which she was to be chastised. “We’ll get this over with as quickly as we can, Jenny. Sergeant?”
Sergeant Yim took a step forward, looked Jenny straight in the eye and nodded towards the table.
Jenny took the hint and turned to face the small table. Immediately the sergeant pressed a hand in her back and pushed her forwards. Then that same hand moved upwards to Jenny’s neck, and she felt herself being forced down across the table. As she allowed herself to be pressed down, Jenny rested her elbows on the hard wooden surface. The table felt very solid, as though it had been bolted to the floor.
“Get right down onto the table, please Jenny.” Inspector Matthews’ voice directed.
The teenager complied, until the cool wood pressed into the upper part of her body. Panic suddenly flared as Pauline turned from her and went over to the wall. Jenny wanted to shout: “Don’t leave me!” at the young attractive young woman, but settled for gripping the far edge of the table as tightly as she could.
Immediately, Sergeant Yim kicked the teenager’s legs apart causing the table to press even more uncomfortably into her tummy. While her eyes focused on the floor below her head, Jenny sensed her ankles being secured with cotton strips to the feet of the table. Then the Asian female police sergeant came to the other end of the table and Jenny was able to watch her wrists being similarly bound to the front two legs of the table. The teenager tested the security of her bindings, and found she could hardly move.
“Was that really necessary?” Jenny asked. “I’ve already signed to say I’m prepared to be thrashed.
“It’s just procedure, Jenny.” Pauline Frobisher answered. “Nothing to worry about.” The Consular official tried to sound calm and reassuring, but there was an unmistakeable tremor to her voice.
The warm air in the room suddenly chilled as Jenny felt the short floral dress being turned back so that her entire bottom and lower back were exposed.
“Please!!!!” Jenny cried out, realising the moment she’d been dreading was imminent.
The teenager’s words were lost as Inspector Matthews wielded the long slender cane. Whoooosh! Thwack!!!!! The thin yellow rattan crashed across Jenny’s naked buttocks.
“One.” Sergeant Yim counted.
With a couple of tears already trickling down her cheeks, Jenny struggled to come to terms with the searing pain that cut across her naked bottom. So engrossed was she, the whoosh of air as the second stroke hurtled down was completely missed by the teenager.
“Two.” The female sergeant’s voice spoke sharply.
The second cut across Jenny’s backside was just a half inch below the first, and succeeded in renewing the stinging pain that had just begun to subside into merely a dull throbbing ache. For some unknown reason, this second cut also served to remind Jenny of her naked vulnerability and she felt embarrassed at having her rear quarters so openly exposed to the gaze of Sergeant Yim and Pauline Frobisher, and, yes, this stern English Inspector who wielded the cane so harshly.
The cane bit into the lowest portions of Jenny’s bottom, just above the tops of her thighs, and lifted her into the firm edge of the wooden table. The Inspector had allowed her a brief pause before delivering the stroke, and Jenny was grateful for the respite.
This time, though, there had been little pause, and as the cane whipped into Jenny’s bare buttocks, much higher up this time, it caught her off-guard. Smarting and stinging horribly though her bottom was, Jenny felt strangely glad it was the Inspector wielding the cane and not Sergeant Yim. Jenny felt certain her suffering would be much worse had the inscrutable Oriental Sergeant been punishing her.
Half-way. The teenager gained just a little comfort from the realisation her ordeal was half over. Just the remaining half to go and she could be out of here! Jenny’s buttocks already felt very sore, and the tears were streaming down her face. For the first time, though, Jenny knew she would be able to cope with this awful punishment.
The pain in her backside had reached a crescendo, and Jenny was able to think of the scene of which she was the centre of attention. Out of the very corner of her eye, she could just make out the tall, slim figure of Pauline Frobisher standing crisply upright with her hands clasped behind her back. Turning her head slightly, Jenny could see the young Consular official concentrating only on her naked backside, totally oblivious of the teenager watching herself being watched.
The punishment seemed to Jenny to be progressing remarkably quickly and, although her bottom ached and throbbed like nothing she had experienced before, she found herself increasingly able to consider her surroundings, and in particular the watching Pauline Frobisher. Had the young attractive Consular official really tried to keep her punishment as small as possible, she wondered.
The cane landed on Jenny’s sore naked bottom with a sharpness that took her breath away, for now the cane was cutting across her bottom on portions that had already felt its effect. Even so, Jenny concentrated not on the pain but on the slim figure of Pauline Frobisher. The teenager hoped the Consular official would divert her attention from her bare buttocks to her face so Jenny could gain some impression of what the attractive young woman was thinking, but it was not to be for Pauline kept her attention fixed upon the object of the punishment.
The cane really drove into the Jenny’s vulnerable backside, and stung like nothing before as it crossed another already sore portion of the soft pale flesh. Pauline Frobisher was instantly forgotten as the teenager tried to deal with the sudden and unexpected agony. With tears flowing uncontrollably, Jenny breathed in and out rapidly as she struggled to cope. Thankfully, Inspector Matthews must have realised the effect the stroke had on the teenager, for there was a distinct pause before he applied the next and final stroke.
“Ten!” Sergeant Yim’s voice was high and piercing as she announced the conclusion of the punishment.
Even the knowledge her ordeal was virtually over did little to placate the teenager, such was the effect of the final blow. Jenny took a deep breath and held it, releasing the spent air only when she thought she might suffocate. Quickly, she took in short sharp breaths as the stinging smarting pain seared through her naked buttocks.
“Thank you, Miss Dawlish.”
Jenny failed to notice the Inspector’s simple statement that meant she had now suffered sufficiently to satisfy the judicial system. So pent up was she with her fiercely aching bottom, Jenny was equally unaware that Inspector Matthews was at this very moment leaving the room. The teenager was conscious, though, that Sergeant Yim was bending down beside her and cutting her arms and legs free of her restraints with a small pen-knife. Soon, she was once more alone with Pauline Frobisher.
“You’re free to get up!” The attractive young woman announced. “When you’re ready, that is.”
With some considerable effort, and with an extremely sore bottom, Jenny succeeded in pushing herself up from the table. As she got to her feet, Jenny felt her legs were too weak to support her, and she quickly reached out for the table. Pauline Frobisher sprang forward and took her by the arm, holding the tail of the short smock up so it wouldn’t fall and touch the red sore flesh of Jenny’s bottom.
“Th….thanks!” Jenny’s stammered.
“That’s alright. Take your time, Jenny.”
“I’m okay, thanks.” Jenny freed herself from the clutches of the attractive young Consular official and struggled over to where her clothes lay on a chair. Still obviously suffering, Jenny peeled the short smock off over her head and searched through her clothes that were piled over the back of the chair. Pauline stared at the teenager’s naked back, especially the red sore backside with ten angry lines drawn across it.
Breathing deeply and noisily, Jenny pulled the white cotton top over her head and threaded her hands into the short sleeves. When she pulled the material down over her body, the eighteen year old was almost grateful the hem only reached down as far as her waist.
“I wish I’d worn a dress.” Jenny commented as she threaded her white knickers over her feet.
“Yes?” Pauline answered uncertainly.
“These tight jeans aren’t going to be very comfortable!” Jenny had thought about leaving her knickers off, but decided they would at least provide some protection from the rough denim of the jeans.
With some difficulty, Jenny worked the jeans over her feet and pulled them up but struggled to pull the flies together.
“They seem much tighter.” Pauline commented, as Jenny finally managed to secure the top button.
“What happens now?” Jenny asked as she wrestled with the zip.
“You’re free to leave.”
“Aren’t they going to deport me, or anything?” Jenny took a deep breath as she finally succeeded in dressing.
“No. You’ve taken your punishment. They find young girls like you don’t make the same mistake twice.
“Too right! Jenny exclaimed. “That’s taught me a lesson I’ll never forget!”
“I guess that’s why they do it.”