A trip into the future finds a young official having to deal with a woman older than herself. By a new writer to us.

by Katie Hammond

It had been two months since I received that letter with ‘On Her Majesty’s Service’ printed in bold back letters at the top of the envelope. It was in fact addressed to a Miss Stacey C Richardson, but in my haste and excitement I don’t remember checking that it was addressed to me. The brown envelope was opened and reduced to shreds in seconds.

‘Dear Stacey,’ (the letter started informally) ‘we are pleased to…’

I let out a scream of delight and felt a moment of utter elation that I had never experienced in my life before. Against massive odds and my own expectations I got the job.

I had applied for this position along with many other jobs just before I sat my A levels and the job offer was conditional on these exams being passed, which thankfully they were. Since my exams in early summer I had also had my eighteenth birthday, met my first serious boyfriend and now landed my first proper job.

It was the summer of 2018 and things in Britain had gone from bad to worse in recent years. Mass immigration had caused rents and house prices to rise to levels beyond the means of all but the highest paid and had also driven down wages for the working class. Hospitals, schools and the police could barely cope. Crime went unreported, let alone followed up, and life in the cities was like the Wild West. City and town riots were common place and even in the provinces town centre binge-drinking and violent fighting took place nightly. Tent Cities had also sprung up housing immigrants and others too poor to access any housing.

The situation had become so bad that the Territorial Army was now assisting the Police full time. The government also set up the Fast Track Justice and Punishment Service which was commonly referred to as the JPS. The idea was to quickly, as the name implies, process and punish (in various forms) offences that would previously have gone to Magistrates or even Crown Courts. Some of the JPS Officer’s would in fact act as judge, jury and executioner. It was a position of authority and attracted a commensurate salary. I counted myself extremely fortunate to have been selected as a JPS Officer. It made me laugh that although I now had this position I still had one more module to complete at school in September, so technically I was still a schoolgirl.

Although I was extremely thankful to get the job, after two months it had settled into a regular pattern and was not quite as exciting as I had hoped for. Lisa Williams, my boss, a married thirty two year old woman, would handle the more serious cases which left myself and another junior JPS officer, Dan Smith, who was in his early twenties, to deal with the more routine cases. These cases were broad ranging but classed as ‘low level’, although such as violence, even GBH, once a serious offence was now in the remit of the JPS.

Most of the offenders could not afford a fine and the prisons were full so I gave them a pep talk and sent them packing with a few hours community service. The JPS could however recall people to prison and also had the authority to perform corporal punishment at the discretion of officers.

Since starting at the JPS Centre, in the perhaps one hundred or so cases I had dealt with, there were plenty of instances where corporal punishment was justified and deserved but I had no inclination of executing that punishment to older men who, quite frankly, were not in any way shape or form attractive to me.

This was, of course, unprofessional but I justified it by being sure that the community service work I dished out was far more of a punishment than a slap on the bottom. And so that Friday in late August seemed like the start of just another day and the end of another week.

It was slightly different, however. Lisa had been on holiday that week and had left Dan and I to handle the cases, including the ones she would normally have dealt with. Another team agreed to take on some of our cases that week so we weren’t over-stretched. I sat down and took a sip of my coffee. I glanced down at my list of cases for today.

Five guys and a woman, Mrs Jane Martin; interesting, I thought. We do get quite a few girls in the JPS system but a married woman was fairly unusual. The day went quickly, mainly straight-forward cases, and by three-fifteen I was ready for my last case, Mrs Martin.

I had fifteen minutes to spare so I read her file and then left the office to get a packet of crisps from the vending machine. As I left my office, which opened onto the waiting area, twenty or so people looked up and at me anxiously, wondering if I was the one who was going to decide their fate; much like a doctor’s waiting room, I thought.

When I got back to my office, there were fewer people waiting outside. Most of the JPS teams were on their last cases by now; no sign of Mrs Martin though. However, there was one smartly dressed woman solicitor talking to her client, but no other female.

I quickly looked at her case notes again; forty-one years old, road traffic accident, fell asleep at the wheel while driving, tired but had not been drinking. Sentenced to twenty-four months in prison. This seemed really harsh but you did hear about these things from time to time.

She had served thirteen months, 29.11.16 to 04.02.18, and was serving the remainder of her sentence on licence. I quickly looked at her date of birth, 15.12.76. God, she had spent her fortieth birthday in HMP Send. Poor girl, I thought.

I also saw from her case notes that a prison officer, Mrs S Shah, had put Mrs Martin “On Report” in prison on 03.02.18 but there was not enough time to do an adjudication before Mrs Martin’s release. That was left for the JPS, and now me, to complete.

I opened the door and the remaining faces looked up at me. “Mrs Martin, please,” I said.

At once that woman who I assumed was a solicitor stood up and walked towards me. She looked younger than her forty-one years; shoulder length blonde hair, mid height probably around 5 foot 5 inches, and of athletic build. She was smartly dressed in a white short-sleeved blouse and a smart black skirt with black tights and black shoes. It was typical office attire and I often wore exactly the same, although today I was wearing trousers.

I sat behind my desk and offered her the seat on the other side of the desk facing me. “Is Jane ok or would you prefer Mrs Martin?” I asked.

“Jane is fine,” she replied.

I continued. “I’m Miss Richardson and I will be hearing your adjudication today. If I find you guilty I may recall you to prison immediately.”

I added: “Do you understand?”

“Yes Miss,” she replied politely.

I was taken aback. This was the first time I had been addressed as ‘Miss’, and although JSP staff in common with prison officers, civilian prison staff and official prison visitors were entitled to the honorific ‘Sir’ or ‘Miss’, I had never enforced it.

Being called ‘Miss’ made me feel like I was a primary school teacher. This was strange enough, but being called Miss by a forty-one year old woman old enough to be my mother was just plain weird and perhaps just a little kinky and definitely a power thing; I loved it.

The adjudication was simple enough; loss of prison uniform, or more specifically, ‘one pair prison issue knickers’ as noted by reporting prison officer Sona Shah. How embarrassing is getting pulled up for that, I thought.

I read the charge to Mrs Martin as loss of prison uniform rather than specifically ‘knickers’ to save us both any embarrassment, although she knew I knew exactly what went missing.

“Stand please, Mrs Martin.” I instructed. She did as she was told and I then said: “Mrs Martin, how do you plead?” I tried to sound as serious as I could.

She hesitated a few moments, then replied: “Guilty.”

“Please sit,” I said. She sat down.

I consulted my JPS sentencing guide lines. I could recall her to prison; very harsh since she was unlucky to have had to go there in the first place, and despite only meeting her a few minutes ago for some reason I liked her; mother figure, perhaps, or older sister thing, maybe.

I could let her go with a telling off and a fine to the value of the lost knickers. She had money, or at least her husband did, so a fine of a couple of pounds would have no impact, but a telling-off from a young girl might be worthy punishment by way of humiliation at least.

Then, just as I was going to announce the punishment, I had a thought that made me excited and scared at the same time; corporal punishment. It had never crossed my mind that I would ever have the opportunity, or the desire for that matter, to spank a woman, but I thought: ‘Why not? That’s what the JPS is about.’

I looked up trying to cover my nervousness and said: “Your punishment is either a recall to prison or corporal punishment of twelve bottom spankings on her Majesties pleasure, effective immediately.”

She look bemused then composed herself, replying: “Corporal punishment, please.”

I nodded, trying to conceal a smile, my excitement overtaking my apprehension. I called reception, and asked for one TA soldier to come to my office. The soldier arrived quickly, a tall thin girl in her early twenties with dark hair, wearing Ray Ban mirror gold rimmed aviator sunglasses, combats and a gun strapped to her chest.

We both stood up as the soldier came in. I explained the situation to the soldier and that we needed her to escort Mrs Martin to the punishment room. She then got her handcuffs out and asked Mrs Martin to put her arms behind her back. I shook my head at the soldier and she put them away. Jane Martin looked at me and mouthed: ‘thank you’.

We left the office and walked up the long corridor, Jane Martin slightly in front of the soldier who was standing to her left holding her arm. I was walking directly behind Jane and noticed that her skirt was perhaps a tiny bit too tight as I could make out the outline of her knickers under her skirt. I felt a massive surge of excitement thinking that in just a few minutes that bum would be spanked by me.

As we walked along plain painted institutional brick corridors, I thought it was perverse that the least dangerous and nasty person that I had met during my work for JPS was being treated as if she was a dangerous criminal and needed a soldier to somehow protect people from her. She wasn’t a criminal, but had a higher JPS category due to her actually serving a prison sentence. Again, I felt sorry for her and although I was excited at the prospect of spanking her I felt a sort of maternal instinct towards her. Would I be able to do it?

We then came to a red door with ‘P1’ painted on it. The soldier unlocked the door and I instructed her to guard the door for the duration of the punishment. I could sense her perhaps understandable disappointment that she would not be in the room.

We walked in; the room consisted of a desk and two chairs either side to the left, and in the far right-hand side was what looked like a medical cabinet. In the centre offset just to the right was a horizontal St Andrews Cross.

Jane seemed to take it in her stride; there was no horrified looked of shock and she seemed resigned to her fate. I put my handbag on the desk and told Jane to do the same. We then stood facing each other. The time had come and the nervousness returned.

I then took a deep breath, looked directly at her and said: “Take your skirt off for me please, Mrs Martin.”

She held my gaze and replied immediately: “Yes, Miss,” in her middle-class, but not overly posh, English.

She undid the button and then slowly pulled the zip down before stepping out of her skirt whilst still keeping one hand on it to prevent it falling to the floor.  She then held it up, folded it once and then offered it to me. I put it flat on the desk behind me.

I turned around and regarded her without her skirt. She was wearing hold-ups not tights and had a compression bandage on her left leg just above where her dark hold-ups finished. I knew from her notes that this was from her physiotherapy treatment of the broken leg sustained in the car accident that she ultimately went to prison for. Her legs were athletic and toned, which was courtesy of her hobby of cross-country running, which I again learnt from her notes.

She then looked at me with a very faint smile; I had spent just a few seconds longer than I should have looking at her legs.

‘Stacey! Keep focused and get on with the job professionally,’ I thought to myself.

I came out of my slight daydream when she asked me in what I thought was a submissive tone: “Do you want me to take my knickers off, Miss?”

I nodded, and she took them off and gave them to me. I instinctively held them by the waistline and looked into them; fairly skimpy plain white cotton knickers. I then noticed a label stitched into the waistband which read: ‘Martin C8976541’.

“Prison knickers, Jane?” I asked.

“Yes Miss,” said Jane.

“You didn’t have to wear these for this afternoon, Jane.” I said.

Jane replied: “Well, I thought I might get recalled to prison this afternoon.”

‘Good point,’ I thought, then nodded slightly in tacit agreement.

I laid her knickers on top of her skirt, and added: “Hopefully these ones won’t run away,” in reference to her being reported for losing her prison knickers.

She immediately smiled and looked at me. I smiled back and we both nearly started to laugh, although thankfully we both managed not to let it get out of hand.

I then told Jane to take her hold-ups off and we both agreed that the bandage should stay on.

“Mrs Martin, please mount the equipment,” I instructed.

She turned around, walked the few feet to the horizontal wooden cross and climbed on without any problems. I followed and put her wrists into the handcuffs that were integral to the cross, and then walked back to the front of the room where Idid the same to her ankles.

It then occurred to me the observing JPS officers, who would be arriving soon, would be confronted with a full view of Mrs Martin’s derriere on entering the room. It was a totally humiliating position to be in, both physically and metaphorically, which I did not fully appreciate when I issued the punishment.

My phone rang; it was Dan. “Hi Stacey, we’re about two minutes away.”

“Ok, we’re ready.” I replied. I said to Jane: “I can’t do this alone. Two colleagues are on the way to join me. We tried to arrange for two female staff to attend but unfortunately due to a staff holiday my male JPS colleague has been assigned to this punishment. Of course, you can refuse and this punishment will have to be postponed to a later date.”

Jane said: “No, that’s fine. I don’t want to be any more trouble, Miss.”

“You’ve been no trouble at all, Jane, and quite frankly, off the record, I don’t think you should be here anyway,” I said.

“Thanks Miss,” replied Jane.

“Right they will be here soon. Umm, I could use your skirt to cover your bottom until we get to the punishment.” I offered.

“It’s too late to cover my bum, Miss. If my solicitor had done that in the first place I wouldn’t be here now.”

I laughed, then she did. She had a good sense of humour, for sure. Her blouse had fallen down a bit and I pulled it up to expose her buttocks fully. I heard a conversation at the door and then a knock. I walked to the door and opened it, then shut it behind me, leaving Jane alone in the room.

Dan introduced me to an Asian woman in her earlier thirties who was dressed in a prison officer’s uniform.

“Hello, I’m Sona Shah, Mrs Martin’s personal officer.”

“Oh hello, I didn’t know you were coming.” I said, slightly taken aback.

“I saw her punishment date on the database and, as her personal officer, wanted to be here, if that’s ok.”

“I can’t see a problem with that,” I replied. That wasn’t entirely true. I didn’t really want her here but I couldn’t do much about that. I updated Dan and Sona on the situation and told them that Mrs Martin was in position and ready for punishment.

I walked back in and stood to the left. Sona walked in and to the right and further up so she could see Jane’s face.

Jane turned her head right and let out a very surprised: “Miss!!”

“You do remember me then, Martin?” Mrs Shah said, addressing Jane by her surname only, which I felt was very harsh, especially as her surname was a common male name and we were not in a prison environment.

“Yes of course, Miss,” Jane replied to Mrs Shah meekly.

I could sense that Jane seemed somewhat frightened of Mrs Shah. Dan, having closed the door, was standing at Mrs Martin’s feet, trying not to look at Jane’s posterior. Dan now moved forward and stood next to Mrs Shah. “Hello Mrs Martin, I’m Mr Smith.”

Jane again turned her head again and exclaimed: “Oh God, DAN!!!”

“Jane, is that you?” Replied a stunned Dan.

I said: “Do you know each other?”

“I used to go out with Jane’s, erm, Mrs Martin’s daughter.”

I was quite shocked because Jane didn’t look her age and had almost childlike good manners. I found it hard enough to imagine her married, let alone mother to an adult woman.

“Oh, ok, we will have to postpone this now,” I said.

Sonal Shah then said: “Unless the offender objects, I can’t see why we can’t proceed.”

I then said: “Provided Mr Smith has no problems either.”

Dan added: “Well, I’ve got no problems if Mrs Martin hasn’t, but I totally understand if she has an issue with me being here.”

Jane turned her head again and said: “I’m fine with it, Dan.” Then she quickly added: “Sir.”

“Ok, let’s get on with it then.” I said to Dan and Sona then added: “I’ll do the first six.”

Not wanting to use officers’ first names in front of Mrs Martin I continued. “Then, three from Mrs Shah and three from Mr Smith.”

They both nodded in agreement.

“Punishment will now commence,” I said.

This was mainly intended for Jane. I raised my right arm and my hand contacted her fleshy rounded bottom hard. WHACK; Jane tensed her legs and bum and let out a slight “aahh” then added: “Yes Miss.”

I raised my arm and crashed my hand down on her bottom hard again. WHACK; Jane then took an intake of breath and I could see her gritting her teeth. After a longer pause she then said: “Yes Miss,” again. I could hardly believe I was doing this and enjoying it so much, I smiled and then raised my arm yet again and smacked her bottom hard, WHACK. Jane shifted a little on the cross and tensed her buttocks and legs and I could see her closing her eyes in pain. After sucking in some air through gritted teeth came another: “Yes Miss.”

The fourth smack was again hard and Jane then tensed her back, rising up slightly from the cross obviously in pain.

“Down!” Mrs Shah barked.

Jane then returned to her horizontal position before composing herself again and saying: “Yes Miss,” which I assumed was exclusively for me. My fifth smack was hard but the lightest of them so far. I knew she was in pain and didn’t want to make her cry. She had already tensed her buttocks and my hand landed with a smack rather than anything more severe. I could sense her relief as she again announced: “Yes Miss.”

I looked down at her now slightly red and bruised bum. Although I felt sorry for her and liked her, the last spank had to be hard. I raised my hand high, then held it for a split second before crashing my hand down onto her bottom; WHACK.

“Aaarrggh,” cried Jane as she again clenched her buttocks and then fists. She then let her head drop down and face towards the floor in what looked like a small act of despair or submissive defeat, her blond hair falling down around her head. No sooner had she had done this than she raised her head, composed herself and said the customary: “Yes Miss.”

I looked over to Mrs Shah who was standing on the other side of Jane’s now sore behind and nodded. She raised her arm and her right hand connected with Jane’s bum; SMACK. She didn’t smack Jane as hard as me, or as I’m sure Jane was expecting. Jane shifted on the cross slightly before adding: “Yes Miss.”

Sona then raised her arm again, her right hand connecting with Jane’s bum; SMACK. Again, this was lighter than I expected and Jane didn’t tense at all but kept looking straight ahead. Within a couple of seconds another: “Yes Miss,” came.

Sona’s phone rang. She picked it up, listened, then said: “I’m at Martin’s adjudication as I was the reporting officer.” After a pause she then said: “OK, I’m coming straight back.”

She put her phone back in her pocket and raised her arm, her hand making a firm SMACK as it connected with Jane’s bottom. Jane drew breath between her teeth as if to demonstrate she was being punished, then said: “Yes Miss.”

Sona looked up and said to me: “Right, I’m needed back at Send, thank you Miss Richardson.”

“Not at all,” I replied. That wasn’t exactly true but I liked her better than the first impression I had of her.

Mrs Shah then spoke to Jane. “Right, young lady, I hope you have learnt your lesson; stay out of trouble.”

Jane then said yet again: “Yes Miss.”

Sona left the room which made me feel a bit better. I thought Sona had spoken to Jane like she was a primary school child. I would have found that humiliating and degrading in addition to having to address her (and me) as ‘Miss’, but she didn’t show any outward signs of resentment.

“Mr Smith?” I said to Dan.

He nodded and took up position. He looked at Jane and said: “Ready?”

“Yes Sir,” came Jane’s instant response.

Dan held his right arm up and then moved this hand down hard, connecting with Jane’s fleshy red buttocks. TWHACK. Jane let out an “Arrrrgh”, gritted her teeth and said: “Yes Sir,” in a very composed and slightly submissive manner, which lead me to suspect she might even be enjoying this.

Dan was spanking her a lot harder than I expected. Was it revenge for getting ditched by her daughter? I would ask him about that later. Dan raised his arm again and delivered another hard blow to Mrs Martin’s now sore botty; TWACK.

“Arrrrrrrgh!” Her legs strained against the leg cuffs as she tried to overcome the pain. She then clenched and un-clenched her bum four or five times in what I now suspected might be pleasure. She then stretched her arms and legs on the cross before resting like this for three seconds and then turning her head around and saying to Dan: “Yes Sir.”

I couldn’t believe I was starting to get what could only be described as jealous. I liked her and hoped she liked me and her being seemingly more receptive to Dan’s spankings made me feel rejected in a way, however stupid that may seem.

Dan raised his arm again and his hand crashed down hard right in the middle of her bum; TWACK. You could hear it echo around the almost bare room. Jane let out another “Arrrrrrrrghhhh,” then: “Oh no, Oh no,” and she clenched her buttocks and fists and said: “Oh god, Dan, please.”

My jealously turned to anger. How come she seemed to be enjoy being spanked by ‘Dan’ and not me? In a split second of red mist, I raised my arm as far as I could and shouted at Jane: “IT’S SIR TO YOU, MARTIN!” Then my hand crashed down on her bum as hard as I could manage. T-H-W-A-C-K.

Jane screamed out: “Arrrrrrgggghhh!” The pain was so intense she lifted her head up and screamed again: “Arrrrrrrrrrrrgggghhh! Oh my god, oh my god.”

She clenched her buttocks again and again and strained her wrists and ankles against the cuffs in a vain attempt to break free. The pain was still intense and she begged: “No more, no more.” Finally, after the pain had subsided, she started banging her pelvis into the cross and shouting: “Yes Miss. Yes Miss. Yes Miss. Yes Miss.”

Dan and I looked on, stunned. She then stopped and finally let out another: “Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggghhhh,” and then lay still.

Once my adrenalin rush had finally subsided slightly, my hand started to hurt and I realised how hard I had smacked Jane; too hard, for sure, and my heart sank. I realised that in the heat of the moment I had crossed the line between acceptable punishment and what some people might term abuse of someone in my care.

Dan put a hand on Jane’s shoulder and asked if she was ok. Thankfully she was, but the mere fact that he had to ask her implied I had crossed the line.

Dan had to go and finish some paperwork so he said to Jane: “I’m sorry we had to meet in these circumstances, hope everything goes ok and please give me regards to Amy.”

Jane looked at Dan and replied: “Thank you, I will say hello to Amy from you but please, Sir, don’t mention any of this to your friends, especially the ones who went to school with you and Amy.”

Dan took a couple of steps back towards Jane and said: Tthat goes without saying, but you have my word anyway.”

Jane looked relieved and said: “Thanks Sir.”

Dan squeezed Jane’s bare shoulder and then left the room, nodding to me in acknowledgement.

I walked to the medical cabinet in the corner of the room and opened the door. I was surprised to find it well stocked with bandages, plasters and various bottles. I found the stuff I was looking for; ‘Nelson’s Arnica Cream’, used for soothing bruised skin. I walked back to Jane and positioned myself in between in her legs that were still captive on the cross.

I opened the bottle and said to Jane: “I’m just going to apply some cream to your backside, Jane.”

She said: “Ok,” in what I thought was a slightly terse manner. I wasn’t sure if she was upset about my last spank which must have really hurt. I applied the first application to her left buttock; you could almost feel the warmth of her red bottom still reeling from its punishment. She had a rounded bum but it was firm to the touch.

She didn’t say anything so I said: “How long have you known Dan for, then?” I forgot that I had just spanked her hard for calling him Dan.

Jane said: “Oh, ten years, I guess, probably more.”

I asked: “You like him?”

She said: “Yes Miss. He’s a nice lad and was good for my daughter.”

I really wanted to know what how she felt about him so, not very subtly, I asked her: “Have you ever felt he might be good for you?”

Unexpectedly, she laughed loudly and said: “No Miss. Firstly, I’m married. I like him but I’m old enough to be his Mum; it wouldn’t work.”

I felt relieved that she didn’t say she fancied him. With a smile on my face I crossed the line and worked on her right buttock. My hand really hurt but I thought I wouldn’t mention the last smack. If she said anything I could be in real trouble. Thankfully the only other witness was Dan.

I spent the next few minutes massaging her rear, being careful that no cream fell inside her bum crack or on her genitalia. Once I had completed the massage I left her for a few minutes so the cream could soak into to the skin. I then undid the ankle and wrist cuffs and asked her to get up. She rose slowly and seemed mobile enough. She walked to the desk where her skirt, hold- ups, knickers and handbag were.

“Ok Jane, you can get dressed now,” I said.

She picked up her white knickers and put them in her handbag, then got her holds ups and pulled them on. Finally she got her skirt and lifted it up tucking her blouse in as she did the top button of her skirt up.

“Ok Jane, let’s go back to my office and we will be done in five minutes.” I said.

I opened the door and, with Jane, stepped into the corridor, to be greeted by the now very bored looking TA soldier. We were escorted back to my office by the TA soldier. Again, Jane was walking a few feet in front of the soldier and I wonder if she noticed that Jane’s previously visible knicker line was now gone. We reached my office and I dismissed the soldier. The waiting room was now almost empty and most of the staff and ‘clients’ had now gone home.

I opened the door and we sat either side of the desk. “Ok Jane, I have just logged your punishment on the JPS intranet. The prison and Mrs Shah have been informed that your adjudication and punishment have been carried out. I am now releasing you back into the custody of your husband. You are now free to leave.”

Jane stood and, before she could say anything to me, her handbag caught a paper tray and dropped to the floor. Flustered, she picked the papers and tray up and put them back on my desk and said: “Sorry Miss,” before returning her spilled lipstick, mirror, perfume and purse to her expensive Jimmy Choo handbag. She composed herself and said: “Goodbye, Miss Richardson.”

Remaining seated, I replied: “Goodbye Mrs Martin.”

She left the office and a remarkable day had almost finished. I sat back down to close my computer and heard a noise behind me. It had started to rain. I opened the blinds a little. It was overcast and dark. Only half a dozen or so cars remained in the staff and visitors car park.

As I was looking down I saw Jane walk towards her car which turned out to be an expensive new BMW 3 series. She got in and drove away, joining the traffic jam that was trying to get out of the city on this cool wet Friday night. As I saw her tail lights fade into the distance I thought that no other driver who passed her that night would have been able to imagine what had happened to her today in a million years.

I packed my things up and left the office. it was strange walking through an empty building that is so busy during the day. I went down the stairs to the ground floor. There were a few more people around; admin staff working late, and cleaners coming in. The TA soldiers saw me coming down and stood to attention as I passed them, my purple ID card pinned to my blouse signifying that I had ‘officer’ status.

My boyfriend was away with friends so that night I had plenty of time to reflect on the day and was increasingly worried that Jane might put in a complaint about the spanking. I didn’t see many people that weekend and it was on my mind so much that I wanted Monday to come round so I could tell my boss, Lisa Williams, what had happened.

Monday morning came round soon enough anyway, and I got in more than an hour earlier than I normally do. I got a coffee from the machine and went into my office. Friday now seemed a bit unreal and distant. I’m sure Jane had other things to worry about and she didn’t seem the type to tell tales; perhaps I wouldn’t tell Lisa after all.

I had an hour or so to kill, so I switched on the computer and got up to date with my emails. There was a knock at the door and Donna, one of the cleaners, came in. “Hi Miss Richardson, late night Friday was it?” She said with a smile.

“Yes it was as a matter of fact, how do you know?” I said smiling back, slightly unsettled.

“Oh, I better give you these back then.” Donna said, pulling a cloth out of her pocket and putting it on the desk.

I looked at the white cloth. My face went red and I felt my stomach churning. “Oh dear, oh sorry, oh thanks, erm, thanks, thank you.” I just about managed to mutter in my embarrassment.

Donna had found Jane’s knickers, which I now realised must have fell out of her handbag when she dropped it. Donna turned and left saying: “No worries,” with a massive grin on her face. I put them in a drawer and tried to get on with the day’s work. I spoke to Lisa briefly. She was busy catching up on work so apart from asking how her holiday was nothing else was mentioned.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and I had heard nothing regarding the spanking, so I began to relax and put that one last smack into history. Then one Friday afternoon I had a call from reception.

“Miss Richardson, I’ve got a Mrs Martin on the phone for you.”

My heart skipped a beat and I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. This is it. I’m in big trouble. So much trouble, I thought, that I might be the one going to prison and in front of the JPS myself.

“Miss Richardson speaking,” I said.

“Miss, it’s Jane Martin. I saw you a couple of months ago,” said Jane’s unmistakeable voice.

“Yes.” I said, dreading what she was going to say next.

After a short delay she said: “Miss, sorry to trouble you but my husband is going away on business for three months. I want to be released into your custody.”

I was shocked, relieved and excited.

“Oh, I thought you might have had some issues with your punishment, Mrs Martin.” I said honestly.

“No none at all,” said Jane. After a pause She continued assertively. “So, can I be released into your custody?”

I quickly consulted my JPS manual. Yes, an offender could be released into the custody of a JPS Officer.

I felt a surge of excitement as I began to imagine what having Jane in my custody could lead to.

“Jane…” I started.

Before I could say anything more, Jane pleaded: “Please Miss.”

“Jane, yes, that’s fine. All I need is an email from your husband authorising transfer of your custody to me,” I said.

Jane told me that could be arranged within minutes and, true to her word, it arrived.

I phoned Jane back on her mobile. “Mrs Martin, you are now in my custody.”

She replied simply: “Yes Miss,” and hardly bothering to mask her excitement.

“By the way, Mrs Martin, I’ve got something of yours.”

“Yes, my knickers Miss. Are you going to put me on report for not having them in my possession?” Said Jane.

“Yes, I’m putting you on report now, Jane, but I’ll deal with the consequences of that on my first home visit. I will be in touch soon to arrange that.”

“Yes Miss,” retorted Jane.

“Goodbye Mrs Martin,” I said.

“Goodbye Miss Richardson,” replied Jane.

 I put the phone down. ‘Miss’ was going to have a lot of fun.

The End.

© Katie Hammond 2013