A woman breaks a traffic law and finds painful justice

By Frances Stephenson

Assistant Head Teacher Eleanor McKay falls foul of new and stringent Anti- Drink and Drive Laws

Eleanor had an hour to kill before her appointment. She was truly dreading the visit; she felt sick and her stomach was churning. Her appointment was at the Government Correction Centre where she would receive the second of two canings to which she had been sentenced.

The year was 2017 and a brave and far-sighted Government had introduced the ‘Short Sharp Shock’ legislation. The major component of this legislation was the re-introduction of corporal punishment. It was rightly felt that miscreants being so dealt with would take the strain away from the overcrowded Prison service. The scheme was to work in conjunction with the recently introduced National Identity Cards with every UK citizen being required to be included in this identity Databank.

Iris recognition was a central part of if this new databank. Iris photography and software was now widely used throughout the country. For example, if a police patrol stopped a suspect drink-driving case who had proved over the limit then an iris scan was immediately taken and the driver’s history taken into account. It also eliminated the possibility of people swapping over and assuming another identity.

Eleanor carefully checked the time on her wristwatch and settled down to wait in the Park. She thought about how this terrible situation had come about. Eleanor was a poised and attractive woman. She was proud of her face and figure and more than proud that aged forty-four she could still turn heads and the swing of her hips attract admiring glances.

Her thoughts were, at the moment, on more important matters. She had a responsible job being the Assistant Head Teacher at a prestigious Girls’ school and this position was under threat.

Three months ago there had been a misunderstanding between her and Stewart, her husband. Each was under the impression that the other had agreed that it was their turn to be ‘dry’ on the evening of the annual dinner dance. Stewart was soon with a group of his friends and was tucking into the whisky in a determined fashion.

Eleanor was with a group of her friends and bottles of wine were disappearing with alarming rapidity. By the time it came for them to think about leaving, it was clear Stewart had had more than enough to drink and it dawned on Eleanor that she was without a lift home and she had also consumed more than enough wine.

Nevertheless, she decided to ‘chance it’ and drive the shortish distance home. Predictably, she was stopped by the Police who reminded her of the new and far stricter drink driving penalties that now existed. Added to which she was not a ‘first time offender’ so could expect little leniency.

She was briskly marched into the Police Station where a tired and disinterested Duty Officer took down her details and authorised a breathalyser test together with a medically supervised blood test. The results were not at all good and showed that Eleanor was well over the limit and, indeed, near the danger level.

“Well Mrs McKay,” said the Duty Officer. “This is not a very satisfactory state of affairs, is it?”

“No Sir,” was all Eleanor could think of saying.

“There is no doubt that your reckless and ill-considered action could have had very serious consequences not only for you but for others using the roads. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir, I do understand,” said a plainly nervous Eleanor. The interview was not going well.

“You already have one conviction for driving whilst under the influence of alcohol and I see you were cautioned on two other occasions. I can make sure you go to Court and you will then risk some severe consequences including, I may add, a spell in prison of some months’ duration.

“There is an alternative and that is a referral to the new Government Correctional Service where you will be required to make two visits to address these dangerous lapses in your behaviour. On each visit you will receive a caning which should remind you not, on any account, to drink and drive in the future.”

Eleanor thought rapidly; sharp short term pain or some months locked in some ghastly prison. She was an Assistant Head Teacher, for Heavens sake. How could she have been so incredibly stupid? The prison sentence would certainly mean that her career would be over.

She came to a rapid decision. “I will take the caning please,” she had stated.

The officer made some notes and told her that she would receive notification about her forthcoming punishment in the post.

“It will not take long,” he said.

Indeed it did not and in just over a week she received a letter telling her to report to the Government Correction Centre at Post Office Green at Finchampton at 3pm in three days time. The letter went on to advise her to wear loose clothing and to have someone on hand to drive her home. Her husband, Stewart, who was feeling guilty about the misunderstanding, agreed to act as her chauffeur.

The whole process was every bit as awful as she had feared. The facility was, in reality, a few rooms in the old Victorian Police Station. She reported to Reception and was told to wait. After about ten minutes she was ushered in to what passed for a Clinical Examination area where she was subjected to a cursory medical examination. The whole process seemed harsh and clinical, more like how she imagined a prison would be. She was then returned to the Reception area where she waited with three other white-faced and apprehensive miscreants.

After a few minutes, two burly fit-looking women in their thirties came to get her; the women looked stern and businesslike, their navy blue uniforms carrying newly attached labels bearing the legend ‘Government Correctional Service’.

Having established that she was indeed Mrs Eleanor McKay she was told to go with the two sergeants. The three of them then went to a room near the back of the building that gave all the appearance of being recently vacated with two old green metal filing cabinets still in one corner.

One of the sergeants locked the door and turned to Eleanor. “You know why you are here, McKay. You are instructed to fully cooperate while you are being caned. Any degree of non-cooperation will result in further punishment. Do you understand?”

Eleanor, who could hardly talk due to nerves and apprehension, signified that she did.

The spokeswoman sergeant ordered her to strip and when she had done so she was then handcuffed to what seemed like a portable but workmanlike “A” frame. Her naked and soft bottom was then ideally presented for the matter in hand.

The ‘spokeswoman’ sergeant picked up a wicked looking dark yellow cane just over three foot in length, swished it experimentally, and she then, without preliminaries, proceeded to give Eleanor eight measured and punishing strokes to her soft bottom. The caning was truly agonising, each stroke like a bruising line of fire leaving a painful looking red stripe by way of evidence of its visit. The strokes were turning a darker red and much darker nearer the middle. There was no doubt that Eleanor would have a very sore bottom indeed.

The caner had landed the last few strokes lower down as she wanted to make sure Eleanor was acutely reminded of this caning every time she sat down.

For her part, Eleanor had been squealing loudly ever since the third stroke; these squeals were becoming ever more heartfelt as the punishment progressed. Eleanor screamed as the final, and hardest stroke found its mark and then, mercifully, it was all over.

Eleanor was helped to dress but thrust her knickers into her handbag, her bottom being far and away too painful to put them on. She was then escorted out of the Centre.

The Assistant handed her a booklet detailing all aspects of using the roads in both Urban and Rural environments. “Study it really well,” said the Assistant. “You will be tested on it next time and wrong answers will be dealt with in a severe manner.”

Eleanor was left in no doubt what a ‘severe manner’ meant as she stiffly walked to her husband’s car.

Three weeks had lapsed since the episode. The livid marks on Eleanor’s lovely bottom had just about disappeared leaving only a clear memory of her painful ordeal.

She looked at her watch; twenty minutes to go! She would rather be early than risk possible penalties by being late.

While Eleanor’s bottom now seemed none the worse for the thrashing it had received at the Police Station, the first four days afterwards had been a different story. Sitting had been a really painful experience and she found walking uncomfortable and had to stiffly move about.

“Pulled something in my back,” she had said.

However, the grapevine had done its work well and most people seemed to know that she had been well thrashed. They mostly made sympathetic noises but a few seemed to support the punishment she had received. ‘A Head Teacher should certainly know better’ fitted in with their opinions.

It was now near the time when she had to report for the second of her two sessions and she made her shrinking way to the Police Station and on reporting to Reception was re-directed to the Extension at the rear of the building.

They knew all about her when she reported in and she was told to sit down in this area. She was in a highly nervous state and visibly trembling, but managed to realise that this ‘facility’ was by far and away more pleasant than the previous one. This could not disguise that the purpose was to facilitate a hard caning and that the pleasant decor was only a thin sugar coating over a painful pill.

After about 10 minutes a nurse came and instructed Eleanor to follow her to a small room, quite plain except for an examination couch. A doctor soon arrived and gave Eleanor a brief but thorough medical examination.

“Pulse and blood pressure are a bit high,” he commented. “But not surprising under the circumstances.”

The Doctor then completed the paperwork and handed Eleanor a green coloured envelope. “Please keep this for now,” he instructed Eleanor, in a pleasant enough manner. The nurse came and escorted Eleanor back to the Reception area where she waited for what seemed an age but was, in reality, about ten minutes.

A tall dark-haired man in his mid twenties arrived together with a pretty young girl, probably in her early twenties.

“Mrs Eleanor McKay?” He enquired, looking at her. “Would you like to come with us?”

He led the way down a corridor and to the right before selecting a room and unlocking the door. He ushered Eleanor inside.

Several features of this room were immediately apparent. A cubicle with a lavatory was on the left and a small curtained-off area to the right. In the middle was a solid looking ‘A’ frame with padded top and handcuffs dangling from each of the uprights. A small desk with a computer terminal and two hard upright chairs completed the furnishings. Although pleasant enough, the components were depressingly familiar.

“My name is John and this is Julie, my Assistant,” announced the young man. “Please may I have your green envelope? I will be in charge of you and will administer your caning. Now, before we make a start I need to inspect your bottom, so please lift your skirt and bend over that chair please, knickers down, of course.”

While Eleanor busied herself John turned on the computer and waited for it to warm up. He glanced at Eleanor and was pleased to see that she was bending over with her naked bottom ready for his inspection. He noted that there were marks left over from her last caning but were fading rapidly.

“I am just going to touch your bottom, Mrs McKay,” he said.

“OK, yes,” said Eleanor.

He pressed on one of the fading bruises. “Does that hurt?” He enquired.

“Just a bit,” said Eleanor.

“I don’t want to give you your second caning if you are still suffering pain from the first one,” said John.

“I am sure it will be alright,” said Eleanor, not wanting any delay with all the attendant nervousness that entailed. “I would like to go ahead today.”

“Your acceptance is noted,” said John, tapping away on the computer keyboard. “You may get dressed now.”

Eleanor got to her feet and John motioned her to take his place in front of the terminal.

“Now we should start on the test,” he said. “All very straightforward, mostly ‘yes’ or ‘no’, but your answers are very important. I hope you have studied the booklet you were given thoroughly. You have been awarded eight strokes of the cane and each wrong answer will result in another stroke being added. There are ten questions and ten wrong answers would result in your receiving a total of eighteen strokes.

“This would necessitate another visit as we do not wish you to receive too many strokes at one go. I will set up the test now and rejoin you in fifteen minutes.”

Having done as he said, he left Eleanor to work through the test which seemed simple enough but she was acutely aware of the effects that a wrong answer would bring and she was therefore trembling with nervousness.

The fifteen minutes were up the door opened and John and Julie returned.

“Mrs McKay,” he said. “Would you please go behind that curtain and remove every stitch of clothing and put them in the box provided; all other articles to go in the envelope provided. You can hang your dress on the hanger. Please put on the white shift you will find there.”

He bent over the computer. Eleanor emerged from behind the curtain dressed in a lightweight mid-thigh length white cotton shift. John asked her to sit down facing the ‘A’ frame. He then asked her to put her hands behind her on either side of a solid vertical upright bar, to which he then secured her by means of a pair of handcuffs.

In the meantime, the petite Julie had picked up a wicked looking cane about three and a half foot long and was swishing it experimentally. She then pointedly placed it in front of Eleanor, under her nose, so to speak.

Eleanor was now, to all intents and purposes, completely naked and secured by handcuffs to the chair facing the ‘A’ frame over which she expected to be secured to receive her punishment. The malevolent presence of the cane which would ‘whip her bottom soundly’ was an ever present reminder.

“You gave only one wrong answer,” said John. “So that will be nine strokes to come. You may think your punishment is harsh, bearing in mind that you were caned recently, but the Committee was of the opinion that you, as a senior teacher, should have known better and they want you to have a really sore bottom. So it is nine strokes to look forward to! I will come and deal with you in about fifteen minutes.”

He left Eleanor with the ‘A’ frame and the cane dominating her panicky thoughts. At last the time was up and John re-appeared together with Julie.

“Julie will get you ready, Mrs McKay. Now, let’s get on.”

Julie came over and unlocked Eleanor’s handcuffs. She was a pretty young girl and murmured encouraging words to Eleanor. Julie, lifting the white shift to breast height, gently encouraged Eleanor to bend over the frame. She then secured her wrists to the front and rapidly completed the exercise by securing her ankles to the other supporting legs of the ‘A’ frame.

“All ready, John,” she said brightly.

John picked up the cane and approached Eleanor.

“Right, Mrs McKay, here comes the second part of your punishment.”

He landed a quite hard stroke towards the centre of the woman’s bottom. Eleanor gave a gasping cry. ‘This bloody boy is old enough to be my son,’ she thought resentfully.

The second stroke was and inch higher and made Eleanor squeal. ‘He may be young but he really seems to know his business,’ she thought.

The third stroke landed on her overhang. Eleanor’s squeal was longer and more heartfelt. The fourth was higher up and resulted in a yelping scream. ‘God,’ she thought. ‘I have five to go.’

John concentrated on keeping the strokes at the point at which he was aiming. They were slightly harder than he usually delivered and he did not want to increase the severity of the punishment by laying on a stroke which would land on, even in part, one already given.

The next three strokes were very painful indeed as John worked his way up and down her bottom. The last but one landed with equal ferocity and made Eleanor shriek. The final stroke was again delivered low down, as was his custom. He liked to think of his recipients having a sharp reminder every time they sat down.

‘Mrs McKay would certainly have this reminder, he thought,’ with the added pain to go with her general indignity.

“Leave her for a few minutes, Julie,” said John. He wanted to closely check on the effects of the caning. On closer examination there were very painful looking welts turning darker towards the centre. Her soft white bottom was twitching spasmodically as it dealt with the pain.

He signalled to Julie who unlocked all the restraints and gently helped Eleanor to her feet. She held onto her while she coped with being upright again. Eleanor would have liked to rub her bottom but it was too painful for that so she contented her self with cradling her cheeks and softly nursing them. Julie guided her to the curtained area from which she soon emerged having collected all her belongings. Julie said she would escort her outside to where her husband would be waiting in their car.

Before leaving, Eleanor looked at John but could find no words to say to him, the appalling pain in her bottom dominating her thoughts.

“Well done, Mrs McKay,” he said. “You have completed the final part of your punishment with resolution. Goodbye and Good Luck!”

Her husband saw her emerge and drove the car right up to her so that she could ‘crab’ into the back and lay on her left side. The cane would not have curled around this area as it had on the right side. Eleanor was somewhat comforted that she had noted that John was a right hander.

Her husband continued the drive home and Eleanor stopped mewing in pain. The deep throbbing pain of the individual strokes continued to make themselves felt. But she was coping well and hoped that the real sharpness would soon die down.

The End

© Frances Stephenson 2013