Two Wrongs Make a Right

A Sequel to ‘Christmas Presents’, the story continues

By Katie Hammond 

It had been just over a year since Prisoner Officer Martin Higgins had delivered a judicial spanking to prisoner Mrs Clare Stevens, and just one month since Martin had sent Clare a Christmas present in return for one he had received from Clare, just after her release from prison the previous year. Of course, exchanging gifts with former prisoners was forbidden, but Clare was one of his sister’s friends and he felt he needed to send Clare the gift to unburden himself of the guilt he had of possessing it in the first place. Her earlier gift to him was appreciated with humour, although it was still a little bizarre.

He turned his attention back to the road. Traffic was light and he was sure he would be there in ten or so minutes. He was going back to his parent’s house today to help his Mum as his Dad’s illness got worse. Sure enough, around ten minutes later he arrived a few streets away from the shops in the centre of the town or ‘The Village’ as some of the more snooty locals still ridiculously referred to this admittedly genteel and expensive outer London suburb.

Martin got out of the car and walked to the shops to buy his Mum a ‘Daily Mail’ newspaper and some milk. As he walked up the once familiar high street he reflected, as he always did when he was here, of how much life had moved on in the two decades since he had lived there, and the fact that he hadn’t quite achieved as much as he would have hoped, but then who does, he thought.

He smiled as he thought of Clare, her rejection of him over twenty-five years ago and the remarkable turn of events just over a year ago which led him to spank her in prison. She had never left the area. He couldn’t imagine that, as he had left home when he was very young. He found it hard to think why anyone would want to live a couple of streets from where they grew up and went to school. He couldn’t afford to live in this area, but wouldn’t want to now anyway, and he smiled as, in his heart, he knew he hadn’t really done that badly after all.

He purchased the newspaper and milk and was just about to start the walk back to the car when the waft from the chip shop stopped him in his tracks. Despite being slightly overweight, he couldn’t resist and bought a small portion of chips to eat on the way back to the car. Standing in the chip shop, he remembered the outcry twenty-five years ago when this shop opened; a chip shop in the village? Heavens above!

Clare Stevens was just finishing her post-match gin and tonic in the pub next to the chip shop. She had done this every Saturday for the last year since her son had started playing for the local youth football team, although normally she had a soft drink as she chatted to the other football mums and dads. Of course they knew all about her recent history, the prison sentence and how much embarrassment it caused Clare. Knowing this, it was a subject they didn’t bring up if they could help it. Her husband and sons were at a winter scouts trip in Wales this weekend so she was here to cheer all the other boys on, and they ended up winning the game.

As the group began to depart to their respective homes to start the normal weekend chores of cleaning, washing, ironing and cooking, Clare had an open day. She had done all the cleaning on Friday and as the boys were away she only had herself to cook for. She was half thinking of inviting her sister and husband-in-law around but instead decided to have a bit of ‘me time’ alone. That used to mean reading her favourite magazine or watching ‘Friends’ dvds, but now she had an unfulfilled passion that was turning into an obsession; spanking.

Ever since Clare had been spanked just over a year ago, she had thought daily about that feeling, the feeling of baring her bottom and having an authority figure spank it. This caused the rather straight laced Mrs Stevens a few guilty feelings and she was far too embarrassed to discuss it with her closest friends or even her husband, who she strongly suspected wouldn’t ‘get it’.

Nobody knew she had been spanked in prison and she would die if anyone found out. She prayed that the prison officer, Martin Higgins, who had spanked her hadn’t told his sister Alice, who by amazing coincidence was one of her best friends. Clare had ordered some spanking books off the internet but of course it wasn’t the same thing as doing it. She then found an excellent spanking story website called ‘Over The Desk’ which she read every day when she got in from work, having just enough time before the boys arrived from school.

That helped get her spanking fix, and she hoped that she would one day have a real life domestic spanking story to post. For now, the best she could do was to take her black jeans and knickers off and lay on the bed and dream. She thought about spanking herself, or perhaps she would ask a friend. No, she couldn’t do that. For a second she thought about asking her sister, Emma, to do it, but very quickly decided that was positively weird, so weird in fact she was slightly disturbed she had even thought of it.

One of the other mums brought her out of her day dream as the eight of them departed the pub. As they headed down the street, Clare decided that in the end she would probably just read a book and watch the telly later, rather than endure an afternoon of frustration.

It took a couple of seconds to register as Martin and Clare saw each other. After the initial shock, they smiled and Martin adjusted his scarf on this bright but bitterly cold January morning and wrapped his chips back up, slightly embarrassed to be seen eating on the street.

Martin thought Clare had put on a little weight on the face, but as always looked good, this time in black jeans and black sports coat with the name of her son’s football team on the back. Surprisingly for Martin, Clare bid her friends goodbye and walked over to him. They made small talk as they walked towards Martin’s car and Clare’s house.

As they approached Clare’s street they stopped, as Martin’s car was further on. Clare hesitated and asked the question she really wanted answering.

“Martin, you haven’t ever told Alice that you spanked me, have you?”

He smiled slightly and replied: “No, of course not. That would be illegal and morally wrong.”

“Thank you,” replied Clare, relieved their secret was still a secret, but she wanted more answers from Martin, and in truth she wanted the company of someone she could talk to about spanking.

“Fancy a coffee at mine then?” Offered Clare.

Twenty-five years ago, hearing that would have felt like winning the lottery to Martin, but of course time had moved on. He glanced at his watch. He didn’t have much time before he should be at his parent’s house, but ten minutes wouldn’t hurt.

He smiled and said: “Okay, thanks.”

As they walked to her house, Clare explained they had moved just before she went to prison, from another road a couple of blocks away. As they approached the property, Martin was very impressed with the four bedroom detached house. Obviously Clare’s husband had done well for himself, something he already knew.

Clare opened the front door, explaining that her husband and boys were on a scouts’ trip. Again, Martin was impressed, this time with the modern décor and expensive furnishings. From this to a prison, quite a culture shock, he thought as they moved through the hall into the very spacious kitchen, big enough in fact to boast a large centre island in the middle. Clare smelt the chips and invited Martin to unwrap them on the unit before pulling out two breakfast bar stools. As they both ate the chips, Martin noticed that Clare was smiling and seemed happy.

‘How could you not be happy living here?’ He thought to himself.

Although Clare wanted answers, she first wanted to apologise. She looked at Martin.

“I’m sorry about that night in the pub. I didn’t realise how it would affect you for all those years.”

Martin shrugged his shoulders slightly and replied: “No, it’s ok. That was me being oversensitive.”

She responded: “Not really, I knew you liked me and, well, you were not a stranger, so it was wrong on my part. I bet you hated me for that.”

“No, I was surprised and disappointed.” He paused, then decided to tell the truth. “Okay, maybe a bit, then.” Martin replied smiling at the end.

Clare explained: “It was nothing against you, just the wrong time and the wrong place.”

Martin nodded, but he didn’t really know if he accepted or understood that explanation, not that it really mattered now anyway.

Clare continued: “But I guess you got your own back when you spanked me, didn’t you?”

Clare stood up and took her jacket off, Martin doing the same.

Now seated and very comfortable, he said: “No, not really, two wrongs don’t make a right. That spanking was never meant to happen, but yes of course I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.”

Clare looked puzzled. “Never meant to happen? How could my losing my skirt be not meant to happen?” She asked.

Martin cleared this throat. “Well, you didn’t lose your skirt, Clare. It was stolen.”

“What?” Clare exclaimed, genuinely shocked.

Martin felt terrible for what he was about to say to Clare for trying to pull off that nefarious trick on her, and the trouble he could well be in once she knew. His sense of excitement at being alone with Clare at her house now disappeared as he was about to come clean.

“Ok, long story, hear me out.”

Clare, now looking equally serious, nodded.

“I caught a glimpse of you walking in your gym kit. You didn’t see me, but it brought back so many memories of how much I fancied you and, well, you hadn’t really changed at all.”

Clare’s serious look had disappeared and was replaced by a broad grin which she couldn’t contain.

He continued. “Well, I know how bad this sounds but I knew you did gym, sometimes without a skirt.”

Still grinning, she replied: “Yes, just like school.”

Martin nodded and replied: “Exactly.” He paused before dropping the bombshell. “Sorry, Clare, but I just wanted to see you without your skirt on and then tell you off for losing it. So I asked Miss McGregor to steal it for a couple of minutes. You would then have to report to me and I would give you a quick informal telling off and send you back to Miss McGregor, but the plan went wrong.”

“Oh god,” was Clare’s understandable response. Her demeanour was serious again.

Perhaps coming clean wasn’t such a good idea after all, he thought, but he knew it was too late now. He had to continue.

“As soon as she took your skirt out of your bag and put it in her office drawer, one of her supervisors turned up to assess her. So, when you came back from your dormitory and still couldn’t find it, she of course couldn’t admit to stealing it and had to follow procedures and put you on report.”

Clare looked less serious now, but had a neutral expression on her face and said: “How did she steal it in the first place?”

“Can you remember anything slightly unusual about that day you lost the gym skirt?” asked Martin.

Clare thought for a couple of seconds and said: “Yes, of course I do now. Miss McGregor told me my blouse wasn’t tucked in my uniform skirt and asked me to go outside and come back when I was ready to present myself properly.”

Martin nodded knowingly. “That’s when she stole the skirt from your bag.”

“Jesus! I remember thinking that was really weird at the time. Miss McGregor wasn’t one of the strict ones. I just didn’t ever imagine a member of staff would do such a thing,” exclaimed Clare.

“I’m so sorry,” said Martin. Honestly, he would never have gone through with it had he known it would have gone so wrong or knowing how much sympathy he would end up having for Clare.

Clare raised a smile. She liked Martin. She liked Miss McGregor and she loved the spanking, so finally she said: “Its ok, no harm done.”

Martin was instantly relieved but said: “You’ve got one hell of a thing on me now, Clare. I hope you don’t ever let this slip. Me and Michelle would be in deep trouble.”

“Don’t worry, I like you and Miss McGregor so I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

She stood up and walked to the fridge. Martin admired her shoulder length black hair, slim but curvy figure. As he initially thought earlier, she had put on a little weight, but that wasn’t a bad thing; she was in near perfect shape. She smiled as she walked slowly and, he thought, slightly seductively towards him before gently lowering the bottle on the kitchen worktop.

“Baileys?” She asked.

Martin smiled, replying: “Yes, please.”

She raised her eyebrows and asked: “Ice?”

“Yes, perfect,” replied Martin, who was beginning to feel he was playing the lead man in a film.

She placed the glasses on the worktop and slowly poured in the cream liqueur. They clicked glasses and exchanged: “Cheers!”

Both guessed they knew the direction this was going in, but not where it would end.

“So, all that trouble just to see me in my pants, Martin, and you couldn’t even pull that off right!” Laughed Clare.

Martin also laughed and nodded with a sigh.

“Well, you’ve got something on me now,” said Clare.

Martin screwed his face up at that and said: “What’s that then?”

Clare felt a bit stupid saying this, but was teeing up the power exchange scenario that she hoped might happen later. “Well, I’m still on probation and as such I’m not allowed to drink without the express permission of my husband and in his presence. Also, I’ve just called you Martin. It should really be ‘Sir’.”

Martin laughed, but his mind was now racing. This was more than just a quick social coffee.

“Well, I will let you off that. You don’t need the permission of older men to enjoy a Baileys.”

“My husband is six months younger than me,” said Clare.

Martin knew this and replied: “That’s a bit unusual.”

Clare put her finished drink on the worktop, looked at Martin, and said: “Yes Sir.” She paused for a few seconds and continued: “Anyway, what are you doing over here on a Saturday morning?”

He explained the situation with his parents and looked at his watch. It was now coming up for half past twelve, more or less lunchtime really. She took a step closer to him.

“Ring them up and make it tomorrow.”

Martin’s heart raced. What was going on?

Her heart was racing too, although she knew exactly what was going on. The call to his mum was short but, thankfully, she was ok with tomorrow. He blamed it on going out last night and being a little hung over. She was glad he was getting out and enjoying himself.

Clare locked the front door and returned to the kitchen. She said: “Give me two minutes.” She almost ran through the hall and up the stairs, got to the bedroom and headed for the bottom drawer of her bedside table.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Martin’s heart was racing as he looked out into the back garden. What on earth was happening? He didn’t care. It was unusual, exciting and probably just what he needed.

Five minutes later Clare came back into the kitchen. He was momentarily taken aback. The yellow jumper, green skirt and Nike trainers. She had only gone and put her prison gym kit on. They looked at each other and laughed, although Clare wanted to get the atmosphere charged again.

“Happy now?” Asked Clare.

“Kind off,” replied Martin jokingly.

Of course, she knew exactly what he was thinking. Clare picked up the empty glasses and opened the fridge before putting some more ice in.

“Quite a few bottles of champagne in there,” said Martin, noticing them in the top section of the fridge.

“Yep, my husband has accumulated them from corporate events. We never seem to get the chance to drink them.”

She walked back and poured two smaller Baileys and again sat down opposite him. They drank them in near silence.

Then Clare said: “Well, you still haven’t given me permission to drink alcohol, Sir, have you?”

Martin laughed. Despite the apparent absurdity of Clare’s last sentence, he thought it probably was actually true; she did have to have permission to drink, either from her husband or him, and, yes, he was sure, strictly speaking, she had to call him ‘Sir’ for the duration of her probation period. With that, he felt a surge of excitement well up inside him. Her smile encouraged him to take the lead.

He stood up and playfully but firmly said: “No, I haven’t, Mrs Stevens, and if I catch you, you will be disciplined.”

Clare instantly stood up, the bar stool crashing to the ground as she ran to the opposite side of the kitchen island. They now were looking at each other intently. Martin slowly took a few steps towards her. She took a few steps away to maintain maximum separation. He took a few steps the other way. She followed suit. He quickened up, so did she. The atmosphere was getting intense.

It occurred to Clare that she was playing an adult game of kiss chase, or more hopefully, spank chase. Martin quickened up, Clare slowed and they both now knew that this game would end in Clare’s ultimate surrender. Martin had now caught up with Clare and they stood face to face. Clare put both her arms in front of her in a ‘back off’ gesture which Martin instantly understood. She took a step back and then put her hands to her waist and quickly lifted her yellow jumper off before throwing it at him and running. Martin stood still and smiled. Maximum separation was again established, with Clare getting a chance to pull her yellow collar T-shirt straight.

The game recommenced with the same choreography; one step one way was mirrored by Clare on the other side of the island. The tempo was again increased and a near running chase ensued. Again, Martin got the upper hand and, again, he caught up with Clare. Now panting slightly, she held her arms up again and took a step back. Martin let her get a little distance again. Now standing there, she again reached down for her waist and paused for a second closing her eyes. Then, without further delay, her green gym skirt fell to the floor. In that moment Clare knew there was no turning back; it was going to happen.

Martin looked on, stunned. He found it hard to believe. She actually had to wear those things. This again was beyond his wildest dreams.

She picked the skirt up and threw it at him, shouting: “I’ve lost my skirt again, Sir.” She ran to the other side of the island, separation again established.

They faced each other across the island again, Clare now feeling very sexy and vulnerable.

Martin looked her in the eyes and said: “You’re on report, Stevens,” like he meant it for real.

Clare, not entirely sure if he was serious, said: “You’ve got to catch me first, Sir.”

With that, Martin now ran around the island with Clare running as if it was for her life. Before too long she tired and slowed to a backwards walk. Martin was just in front of her, this was it. There was no way out. She walked back into the kitchen corner as Martin followed like a tiger cornering its prey. They were now in the corner, face to face.

Martin put his hands on Clare’s thighs and said: “You’re on report, Stevens, and you know what that means.”

Clare allowed a very small smile to form, nodded and said: “Bed.”

She put her right arm around Martin’s neck and then jumped into Martin’s offered right arm. The adrenaline was pumping so hard that he hardly noticed he was carrying her as they ascended the stairs with ease. He reached the top landing and could see the first bedroom door was open. Looking in, he could see a king-size double bed, obviously the martial bedroom. He entered and gently put Clare on her back at the bottom of the bed.

Outside, a gust of wind interrupted his concentration for a second. He reached for her trainers and pulled them off in one go, throwing them to the floor. Seconds later, he took her socks off and threw them at the door, the adrenaline now coursing through his body. Clare closed her eyes and rolled onto her tummy and buried her head in her arms. The anticipation of what was going to happen was almost too much for her to control.

She felt Martin’s hands at her waist, firming holding each side of her sports knickers. In the blink of an eye it happened as she felt the material travel down her legs and the air on her now exposed bottom. Martin looked down at that bottom, the one he was sure he would never see again. Looking down at the best bottom he had ever seen in his life, he was convinced he would never see a better one. Those small, very faint, fantastic dark hairs on her bum cheeks were of course still there and the even slightly more rounded buttocks were divine.

Clare’s eyes remained closed, her brain in overdrive at the thought of exposing her bare bum to Martin Higgins, and the anticipation of her first spanking in over a year. Martin raised his right hand and aimed a SMACK across both her buttocks.

Clare breathed in and said: “Harder.”

Martin smiled slightly and delivered a harder SMACK, again across both of her buttocks.

Clare felt it this time and said: “Yes,” as Martin feasted his eyes on both cheeks bouncing slightly.

He then placed his hand on her right buttock, as if to stop it from moving. He then raised his right hand fully and WHACKED her right buttock.

It caught her by surprise as she cried: “Oh, ouch!”

As he put his hand on her left buttock she knew exactly what was to follow. She closed her eyes as he raised his hand and WHACKED her left buttock, this time even harder.

She let out an involuntary: “Argggg!” before putting her hands to her head, but it was no use. She couldn’t hold it in and let out a: “Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Yes, Sir. Yes, Sir. Yes, Sir.”

She bounced her pelvis slightly on the bed, much to the glee of Martin who was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle and even more pleased that he was pleasuring her so much. He was still for a few seconds then delivered another hard WHACK, this time to both cheeks. She drew in breath and reached out for the metal bars of the headboard. WHACK before she knew what happened she had been spanked again.

“Hands by your side, Stevens.” Martin barked quickly.

She did as she was told and said: “Yes Sir.”

The man was in command, and she loved it. He then SMACKED her left buttock followed immediately by her right buttock and got into a rhythm of soft but continuous spanks. Martin was by now almost euphoric. Spanking Clare in prison was great but her actually wanting to be spanked by him was just mind blowing as he looked at his hand switching between each slightly red cheek. He gazed down and closed his eyes in disbelief at the sight.

Clare was by now reaching spanking nirvana. She wanted to raise her hands up to her head, but she wasn’t allowed. That frustration and the feeling of control and correction only added to her pleasure. Martin stopped the rhythmic spank and waited. Clare gulped and closed her eyes waiting. Martin gazed down at Clare’s now smouldering buttocks. He raised his hands again and CRASHED his hand hard against her bottom, so hard it stung his hand.

Clare, caught by surprise, raised her head and almost screamed: “Oh Sir! Fuck no, please!”

Martin smiled and thought: ‘Thank god she’s got a detached house.’

Although it was only a hand spanking, it was hard and she was feeling it. She was coming to the end of her endurance. Martin instinctively knew this and put his face to her left buttock and kissed it before slowly moving to the right and doing the same.

He tenderly put his hand on her bottom and said: “Last one, Clare.”

Clare acknowledged gratefully and sincerely. “Thank you, sir.”

He bought his hand down with a SLAP across all of her buttocks. The final spank was slightly weaker than the last, but still stung. Clare let out a sigh and pushed her head into the pillow, her arms still slightly unnaturally still by her side, and said: “Thank you, Sir.”

Martin announced: “Be right back.”

‘What a time to want to go to the loo!’ Thought Clare, but she was happy to lie there and take in all the spanking released endorphins that had started racing around her brain.

He was gone longer than expected and she thought she heard glass clicking. Maybe he had knocked a picture off the wall. He came back, put his hand on her bum again and without warning SMACKED her again. It stung and she was confused. Seconds later, she heard a ‘pop’ and then a cool stream of champagne ran down and over her buttocks. The feeling was awesome and she raised her bottom in appreciation of this tipple. Martin held the bottle an inch over her bottom and very slowly poured, Clare continuing to stick her bottom out. Martin then put the Champagne down as Clare turned around to hug him. He then filled two champagne flutes and they drank as they cuddled. Clare started crying as they held each other.

“You ok, babe?” Martin said genuinely.

Clare smiled and nodded: “Yes, I’m very, very happy.”

Martin was ecstatic as he held his spankee and fantasy girl in his arms. They both hadn’t noticed that it was getting dark on this late January afternoon which was now turning into early evening. They drunk the champagne and decided to get up and close the curtains.

Clare then went downstairs and locked the back door, saying to Martin when she came back: “You are staying, aren’t you?”

“Hope so,” he said, smiling at how utterly bizarre and fantastic this day had already been. Later they ordered an Indian take away and opened another bottle of champagne. It was relaxed and Martin felt very cosy in Clare’s comfortable home.

“Thank you for my Christmas present by the way, Clare.”

She laughed and said: “No problem, hope you liked it.”

Martin smiled. “Yes I do, it’s hanging up over my bed.”

Clare laughed, trying her best to swallow a mouthful of prawn curry.

“How did you manage to get it?” Asked Martin.

Clare smiled. “Easy. Richard and I drove to the Clink Bar and asked for it back. We got it back but at a price.”

“Fifty,” guessed Martin.

“Nope. More like eight hundred,” said Clare.

“Jesus! Eight hundred knicker for a pair of, erm, pants,” said a stunned Martin.

“Yep, Richard couldn’t bear the thought of my prison undies hanging up in that bar so he was prepared to pay it. I said I would throw them away but couldn’t, given the amount of money we paid for them, so I thought I would give them to the person I thought would appreciate them most.” Clare said.

“Well I most certainly do,” stated Martin.

They both laughed. They made a pot of tea, got a small bar of chocolate from the fridge and walked upstairs, Martin carrying the paper he had got in the morning.

“’Match of the Day’ is on tonight,” said Clare, as he followed her up the stairs.

“Didn’t know you like football,” replied Martin.

“Love it now, since my boys got into it.”

‘Should have guessed,’ thought Martin.

The plasma TV was hanging up on a wall facing the foot of the bed. Clare asked Martin to put it on BBC1 but he was soon channel surfing as Clare started undressing next to the bed behind him. Despite the intimacy today he would not have felt comfortable watching Clare undress, nor was he invited to anyway. Finally she passed him in her dressing gown on route to the on-suite bathroom.

He sat down on the bed as ‘Match of the Day’ started. A few minutes later, Clare arrived back and the next chapter of an already extraordinary day was about to begin. Without any warning, Clare took her dressing gown off and hung it up in the wardrobe. He looked at her and she was exactly as he imagined; perfect. He got out of the way as she made her way to the bed and lay down on her tummy facing the TV.

Clare’s must have used that strongly scented apple shower gel again, as Martin smelt her heavily scented hair and body.

“Can you do me a favour, please, and rub some cream into my bottom?” Asked Clare.

“You mean your applebum,” laughed Martin, referring to their humorous prison conversation with Lisa Waldegrave. Clare also laughed remembering the conversation “Yes, my applebum, Sir,” she responded.

“Of course,” replied Martin, almost shaking with anticipation.

As ‘Match of the Day’ started, Martin started gently massaging Clare’s lovely derriere as they both slowly drunk tea. He had watched the football on a Saturday night for years, but never like this. Clare was enjoying the massage almost as much as the spanking.

“Thank you for the spanking, Martin. I loved it, and probably deserved it too.”

Martin said: “No thank you needed. I loved it more than I can say. Can I ask you a question?”

He looked at her as she turned around, that dark hair, youthful face and of course that bottom. She was a beautiful woman, he thought.

She smiled, nodded and added: “Sure.”

“What do you like about me spanking you?” Asked Martin.

She thought for a second and said: “Well, it’s the pleasurable pain of course, but it’s equally if not more about the power exchange; you being in control. When I call you ‘Sir’ it’s me giving you my mind and body, ownership if you like of all of me, especially my bum, and that is awesome.”

Martin nodded. “Yep, I totally get that. Where’s my owner’s manual then?”

Clare found that funny and said: “I’m far too complicated for an owner’s manual.”

‘Match of the Day’ finished and Clare was lazily reading the paper, almost drifting off. He guessed he would be sleeping on the sofa. Suddenly, looking over her shoulder, he noticed an article in the newspaper and took the paper from her.

Spankings Rife in Women’s Prison, Says Report 

An undercover reporter at a women’s prison in the Home Counties has revealed women are spanked routinely as part of the official judicial process. It is known that spankings are still an approved punishment but should only be for the more serious offences and usually on younger prisoners aged 21 to 25. The reporter says although no law or rule has been broken it is worrying that guidelines are seemingly being ignored. 

Various incidents of spanking for minor offences of women in their late 20s, 30s and even 40s are known to have taken place in the last ten years. 

The reporter then details a sharp rise in the recorded incidents of ‘lesbian activity’ in the last ten years, thought to be down to prisoners spanking each other in their cells during their free time. 

A Ministry of Justice spokeswoman said last night: “We are aware of an issue that has been raised in connection with judicial punishments and spankings in one of our female prison estates. Although we are satisfied no law has been broken, we will be investigating the issues raised in the article, especially with regard to the lesbian activity alleged to have taken place between prisoners.” 

“Spanking has become mainstream in recent years and we believe this is reflected in the higher recorded incidents of what is classified as lesbian activity. We continue to do all we can to make the prison a safe environment for staff and inmates alike.”

He pushed the paper in front of her and pointed to the headline.

She laughed and said: I’m so tired. I’ll read it in the morning. Martin put his hand on her bottom just one more time as she was going to get up. All good things had to come to an end. If the world ended tomorrow, he wouldn’t really care now. She got up and walked naked to the en-suite and brushed her teeth. When she came back he was sure he had to go.

She got into bed and said to Martin: “Any chance of some cuddles?”

Martin smiled and got in. They kissed and cuddled and within minutes they were both in a deep sleep.

They both had a long refreshing sleep and Martin awoke, still on cloud nine. Before long, Clare was also awake. Martin passed Clare the newspaper article.

She read it, smiled and said: “Well, well, well.”

Martin got the feeling she didn’t want to talk about it so he asked: “Can I do one last massage of your poor bottom before I go?”

She laughed, turned over and said: “Go on then.”

He pulled the sheets back and applied cream to her bum again, in what he was sure would be the last time this or anything like this would ever happen again. As he applied the cream on her very slightly pink rear, she moaned in appreciation.

Martin said: “Better than what those two nurses gave you in the sickbay?”

She immediately laughed and said: “Wow! Good memory! They were ok but didn’t have much of an idea about what they were doing.”

Martin smiled. “Well, you did say they were playing with your bum.”

“They were, but it was fun. They actually ‘friended’ me on Facebook recently and invited me out for a drink with them,” said Clare.

Martin smiled again, carried on gently rubbing Clare’s buttocks and said: “Might be after you.”

“Perhaps, although they are probably more into each other. They are in a relationship together.”

“Oh, I might have guessed that,” admitted Martin. He looked at the time “I’ve got to get going, can’t be late today and, well, erm, what can I say? Thanks for yesterday, it was amazing and, oh yes, do you want a hand changing the sheets?”

Clare shook her head. “No, it’s ok, thanks. I will do it later, but promise me one thing, Martin, don’t you ever, ever mention this to anyone. Ok?”

He said: “I promise,” and with that they kissed and Martin left.

Thankfully Martin got the job done at his parent’s house and went home. Within a week, the prison spanking story in the paper became front page news as MPs and the general public learnt with increased incredulity of the spankings. By the early summer, the story had died down slightly but then several punishments sheets were leaked to a French website and it went viral. Martin searched the site and found the entry he was looking for.

                                                PrisonLeaks.Com 

Prisoner – Mrs Clare Louise Stevens, aged 44

Date – Wednesday 21st December 2016

Charge – Loss of Prison Uniform (Green Gym Skirt)

Plea – Guilty

Punishment – 10 bare buttock spanks by paddle

Punishing Officers – Miss Lisa Waldegrave, aged 23, and Mr Martin Higgins, aged 46.

Summary: Mrs Stevens reported to the gym this morning stating she had lost her gym skirt. We then searched her dormitory and couldn’t find it. The gym mistress, Miss M McGregor, then put her on report. Mrs Stevens then presented to the duty Discipline Officer, pleaded guilty to the charge and elected to receive punishment from the Duty Officers today rather than wait for the governess. Mr Higgins duly performed the disciplinary after which Mrs Stevens then received after spanking care in the discipline room followed by a period of after care and observation in the sickbay. Signed Miss L Waldegrave 21/12/16

I examined Mrs Stevens’ buttocks this morning and found no reason for any further observation and discharged her into the care of the library manager, Miss Samantha Jeffery, at 9:15 Thursday 22nd December 2016. Signed Miss J Brooker (Duty Nurse) 22/12/16

Martin noticed a few other prisoner names that were familiar; Jane Martin, Martine Gavin, Rachael Bland and Shanice Taylor. He turned the computer off. Whoever leaked this stuff is in big trouble, he thought, and they always get caught. He felt so sorry for Clare, and more than a little embarrassed for himself.

For a number of weeks, there were at least two cameramen and half a dozen reporters at the prison gate each day as he drove in and out of work. The story was again just starting to die down when there was a big development. Listening to the ‘Today’ programme on ‘Radio 4’ on his way into work, the news was broken:

“It has just been announced that three people have been arrested in connection with the ongoing prison spanking story and leaks from HMP Send. A prison service spokesman said all three were currently in custody and no further details would be released today.”

Martin drove quickly up to the gate in order to avoid any reporters trying to get an interview. Once inside, he parked up and was immediately met by the governess, Sarah Williams, as he entered the prison through the staff door.

“Do you know the latest?” Asked Sarah.

“Yes, I’ve just heard on the news.” Martin replied.

“Ok, you better come with me.” Sarah said as she led the way to the punishment room before asking: “You’re duty Disciplinary Officer today aren’t you?”

Martin nodded.

Sarah said: “Two have already been punished earlier. You will have to do the journalist now.”

Martin again nodded, but thought: ‘How come the journalist is in prison so quickly? And what’s he doing in a female prison? Martin wanted to refuse but had little option.

Sarah Williams opened the punishment door and Martin walked in. His jaw dropped. It wasn’t a man. It was most certainly a woman lying on the punishment cross and one he knew well; Mrs Clare Stevens, no less. Clare turned around and looked at him.

“Sorry Sir,” she said genuinely.

“You will be, Stevens,” replied Martin.

Clare and Martin then exchanged a knowing smile not seen by Sarah Williams or the young female nurse in attendance.

“You better come with me,” said Sarah before telling the nurse they would be back shortly. Sarah then explained. “Clare Stevens is a part time journalist. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t realise that her exclusives were strictly against the law.”

They walked to the sickbay and stood at the entrance to the open cell. Asleep in her cot was none other than Lisa Waldegrave. Martin shook his head.

Sarah said: “After the first story broke a French website approached Miss Waldegrave and offered her money for anything else she could get on the story. She sold the punishment sheets to the website for £7,000, but she’s now looking at ten years in prison, possibly even more.”

Martin again shook his head. They walked a few paces up to another sickbay cell. This time a woman was having cream applied to her bottom, presumably following a spanking. As far as he could see, she was tall, longish straight dark hair, and from her bottom and legs he reckoned she was late 20s at a guess.

They took a step inside the cell and, as she spoke, Martin instantly recognised that Aussie voice. It was Michelle McGregor.

‘Christ! What a come down for a glamorous ex-flight attendant, and what the hell did she exactly do?’ He thought.

Michelle turned her head around and, for a second, which was just enough time to exchange the briefest of looks at each other, Michelle desperately wanted to tell him something but of course couldn’t, before one of the nurses then barked at her, after which she returned to face forward.

As they left the sickbay to return to the punishment room, Martin asked Sarah: “What on earth did Michelle do, then?”

“Well, one of the supervisory staff noticed Michelle taking a skirt out of a kit bag, but didn’t really think much about it until she read of Clare’s punishment on the internet and realised she had been there on that day. I don’t think Michelle realised the supervisor was sitting in the corner of the changing room waiting for the prisoners to arrive. We questioned Michelle and she admitted stealing the skirt.”

Martin’s heart was now thumping and he asked the million dollar question. “Did she say why she stole it?”

Sarah nodded and said: “She said she disliked Clare Stevens and wanted to get her into trouble. But now she’s in a whole heap of trouble herself.”

“How long will she get?” Asked Martin.

“Oh, two or three years, I think,” said Sarah as they arrived at the punishment room.

“Jesus!” Said Martin as he went white as a sheet, realising it would only take Michelle to say one word for him to get into serious trouble.

“Are you ok?” Asked Sarah.

“Yes, I think I am, thanks,” said Martin, unconvinced at his own words.

Martin left the prison that evening believing that very soon he would be a prisoner himself. He later managed to see Michelle in prison and she promised never to say a word. He had to put all her trust in her and he did. He continued to work in the same prison that Michelle was being held in and they became close. After she was released they moved in together and five years later, however, she did say a word. That word was ‘yes’ and they married a year after that and subsequently moved to her home town of Sydney, Australia.

Both Clare and Lisa served their rather lenient sentences and successfully carried on with their lives. Surprisingly, they become friends as prisoners and both kept in touch with each other and Michelle and Martin.

A few years later, Clare and Lisa came over to Australia for a holiday and visited Martin and Michelle for a couple of weeks. One night, sitting by their pool drinking wine, they reminisced about the time they had known each other in prison when all of a sudden Clare said: “You’re the only one here who hasn’t been spanked, Martin.”

“Just because I gave you a spanking doesn’t mean I have to get one. Two wrongs don’t make a right,” he replied, slightly anxiously.

Michelle laughed. “Oh, I think in this case two wrongs do make a right. Now, finish your beer.”

He did, and the three ladies led him into the bedroom.

The End

© Katie Hammond 2017