Camilla ran down the High Street with the necklace in her pocket. She turned right into a side street and, as she rounded the corner, she had to swerve sharply to avoid the tall elegant lady who was in her way. The pavement was narrow, she lost her footing on the kerb and tumbled over. Her ankle was twisted and when she stood up the shopkeeper from the local jewellery store had arrived on the scene, out of breath, but delighted to have caught up with the young girl.

“Got you!” he exclaimed as he caught hold of her arm. “Back to the shop where we can have a nice little chat with the police.”

He yanked Camilla up off the ground and set off with the young lady hobbling along in his vice like grip.

The elegant lady spoke, “Excuse me,” she said in a soft voice. “What is going on here?”

“She stole a necklace from my shop,” the man snarled. “And this time she is in serious trouble.”

As they continued on their way back down the High Street, the lady followed, watching carefully as the girl, who was clearly in discomfort, was pretty much dragged back to the shop where the police had indeed arrived. They all entered the shop to find Sergeant Morris taking a statement from a young man behind the counter.

“Here she is, officer!” the owner exclaimed, thrusting Camilla towards the sergeant.

“Oh, it’s you. I might have known it,” Sergeant Morris said with an air of frustration. “Not the first time we have had to arrest you for stealing, is it? When are you going to learn, Camilla?”

Camilla was silent. She put her hand in her pocket and gave the necklace back to the owner.

“Well, you know the routine. Let’s get in the car and get down the station. More paperwork!”

As Sergeant Morris turned he saw the elegant lady.

“Oh, hello, Helena. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” the lady replied.

“Are you just browsing?”

“No, I pretty much bumped into this young girl further down the High Street,” Helena continued.

“Well, she’s in a lot of trouble now. She’s been in and out of borstal and can’t seem to keep out of mischief. She will most likely go to prison this time as she has just recently turned eighteen.”

“I see. Well maybe I might be able to offer her an alternative?” Helena said.

“I’m sure the shopkeepers and locals round here would agree that what we are currently doing isn’t working and anything else would be welcomed, especially coming from you.” Sergeant Morris gave Helena a knowing look.

“Camilla, instead of another visit to the police station and probably a stretch in a real prison, would you prefer to come to my retreat. It’s on the outskirts of the village and although we have strict rules it is welcoming and might give you some peace and quiet, and more importantly time to reflect on your behaviour.”

Camilla looked up, puzzled and thought carefully. “I’m not sure.”

Sergeant Morris looked at Camilla and nodded his approval. “I know Helena well. The Ravensbourne House is a good place with kind yet firm ladies who would help to straighten you out. Maybe you should give it a try. You are eighteen now and that means you need to take more responsibility for your actions.”

“I guess so,” said Camilla.

****

The following Friday, Camilla arrived at the retreat. It had originally been a Victorian schoolhouse and was quite a luxurious residential home. No-one really knew its purpose but there were about 25 ladies who lived there. Some locals called it ‘The Convent’ but it wasn’t religious and there were no uniforms of any description. The ladies of Ravensbourne House did excellent charity work in the village and beyond, and could often be seen litter-picking in the park and helping single mothers.

Helena answered the door and showed Camilla to her room for the weekend. It was lovely. The bed was comfortable and everything was spotless. She had to give up her mobile phone but other than that it seemed very nice. There was a TV room downstairs and dinner was served at 6.00 pm on the first night.

On their way into dinner, two ladies were standing outside the dining room, curiously facing the corridor wall, one on each side. Their skirts were raised up and their black knickers were down by their ankles, thus their bottoms were on full display.

Helena spoke quietly to Camilla. “These two broke the curfew during the week. Friday is punishment day and miscreants are disciplined at 5.00 pm.”

As they walked past, Camilla saw angry purple lines across the bottoms of both ladies and it was clear that they had been caned, hard. She counted what she thought were six ridges all parallel to each other on one of the bottoms; it looked very sore.

At the start of dinner, a lady at the head of the table announced that Jean and Rebecca had been given six strokes of the cane for coming home late. Jean had been drinking excessively and had received an extra three. The ladies were summoned in, this time with their dresses in place, and Camilla assumed their knickers now pulled up. Everyone looked at them; it was quite a humiliating scene. As they sat down, all eyes watched as Rebecca and Jean tentatively lowered themselves into their chairs with grimaces and the odd ‘ouch’ as they tried to get comfortable.

The food was delicious and plentiful, and afterwards Camilla was assigned to help with the washing-up, which was done manually. She quite enjoyed the general chat with Grace and Mary, the two ladies who were helping. She wasn’t missing her phone or getting ready to go out to a club at all.

The lady who appeared to be in charge and sat at the head of the table was Sonia. She was in her fifties and seemed a pretty no-nonsense type of lady. She came into the kitchen and inspected the plates and cups. A couple of plates hadn’t quite been washed properly and she handed them back to Camilla to be washed again. Camilla was unhappy and didn’t take the criticism well, even though Sonia’s tone was kind and non-judgmental.

“For f***s sake,” Camilla glared at Sonia. The other two girls gasped.

“Follow me, young lady,” Sonia commanded, and they proceeded straight down a long corridor to Sonia’s office.

“You will not speak to me or indeed anyone else in this house like that, do you understand?” she said firmly as she shut the door.

“I’m sorry,” Camilla said.

Sonia pointed to a leather stool in the middle of the room. It was black, stood about 25 inches off the floor, and was about three feet long and eighteen inches wide.

“Pull your jeans down and then your knickers, kneel on the floor and bend over the stool.”

Camilla shook her head and was about to speak.

“It’s either that or you go back to police station,” Sonia warned.

Camilla thought for a moment and eventually pulled her jeans down to her ankles and removed them. Then slowly and coyly she lowered her pink knickers as well. She knelt on the floor next to one of the longer sides, as indicated by Sonia, then duly bent over the leather, padded stool so her hands were flat on the floor on the other side. Her tummy rested on the top of the stool. She lifted her head and watched as Sonia went round the big desk and, from a drawer, pulled out an old-fashioned gym shoe. Camilla knew what was about to happen, but she would rather this than go prison where the people were horrid and the food was even worse.

Sonia glided gracefully across the room, back round the other side of the stool, slipper in hand, and stood just to the side and little behind Camilla. With six swings, each one starting just above shoulder height, Sonia gave Camilla a sound spanking on the left buttock. WHACK, the first stroke thudded into the left cheek and Camilla grunted and cried out. This was going to be painful, she thought. The next one, WHACK, hit home in exactly the same spot, followed by another grunt and a yelp that echoed around the office, amplified by the wooden panelling. Trying to put her left hand back to rub her sore bottom, Camilla ended up a little further over the stool, her bottom still sticking out and Sonia’s left hand firmly on her back holding her in position. The spanking continued as the slipper was raised high and brought down sharply for the third stroke, WHACK, which landed on the same spot part of the now red flesh as the first two. Camilla’s left cheek was now on fire and there were some nice ridges where the pattern of the sole of the plimsoll could be seen. The area being targeted by Sonia was quite low down on the buttock and was turning a dark shade of red. Sonia knew exactly how to slipper a young lady so that sitting would be painful for a few days.

The next two strokes, WHACK, WHACK, hit home. Camilla had replaced her hand on the floor and frantically kicked her feet, slightly hampered by her knickers wrapping around them. The final stroke of six was just as solid, WHACK, as the first five and Camilla was grunting and wriggling to avoid the pain; but the heat had increased sharply with each strike.

Sonia, without much delay, reached further across and turned her attention to Camilla’s right cheek. Six strokes were then applied to this cheek, all in the same spot, so that the end result would mirror the left cheek. More yelps and grunts could be heard echoing around the room.

Grace and Mary had by this time finished the washing-up on their own and walked down the corridor past the office door. They looked at each other as they heard the spanking and knew exactly what was occurring.

“The slipper!” Mary exclaimed.

“Yep, she’s lucky not to get three strokes of the cane for that outburst,” Grace replied.

After three solid strokes to her right cheek, Camilla kicked harder and her knickers came off. She was able to wriggle a bit more and her legs frantically tried to kick their way, in an ungainly fashion, but to no avail. Her hips were bucking off the leather stool but she wasn’t in a position to resist. The final three strokes were administered as the others and this left both cheeks with matching crimson patches. There was no question that Camilla’s bottom would be sore for most of the weekend and every time she sat down she had a good reminder not to use bad language.

“You may stand up, get dressed and let’s have no more of that foul, disrespectful language,” Sonia said in a very matter-of-fact, yet kind and understanding voice.

“No, Miss,” Camilla responded. She grabbed her knickers from the floor and pulled them up, put her jeans on, another painful experience as they rubbed on her now slightly swollen bottom, and left the office. On her way out she turned to Sonia gave a little curtsy and whispered, “Thank you, Miss.”

She went straight to her room and lay on the bed crying softly. Whilst lying face down on the bed, her sore bottom throbbing away, she thought about her recent behaviour and it became quite apparent that, for the first time in her life, she had been punished properly for her actions. A good spanking was what she had needed for a very long time. It was quick, very effective, and she really didn’t feel like swearing again, Unlike being reprimanded or locked up in borstal, she felt the slate had been wiped clean. She didn’t resent Sonia at all for spanking her.

****

The weekend passed by in a flash and Camilla enjoyed the company of the other ladies. They were all ages and came from different backgrounds, but had all chosen a life of serenity and discipline. They showed Camilla how to sew, played fun board and card games, went for walks in the park and generally chatted about life and current affairs. There was always something to do. Each time Camilla sat down, however, she felt the effects of the slippering she had been given on the first evening and had completely avoided any repetition. Sunday evening came and at 4.30 pm, Helena and Camilla were summoned to Sonia’s office.

“Please sit down,” Sonia said in a soft voice.

“I have spoken to the owner of the jewellery store and Sergeant Morris at the police station. I’ve told them how well you have settled into your new surroundings, Camilla, and that your behaviour here, despite a shaky start, has been exemplary. We all agreed that the retreat has been good for you.”

Camilla blushed a little and realised that her bottom was now not that sore. She had never been praised before in her entire life and it felt lovely.

“We would like to invite you to stay here at the retreat every weekend for the next six months. Would you like that?”

“Yes please, Miss,” Camilla responded eagerly.

“Good, that would be excellent. I think we would all agree on that.” Sonia smiled at Helena and then at Camilla.

“However, there is the matter of the stealing of jewellery. That is a serious offence and means you will need to pay the price.”

“Not prison, please, Miss?” Camilla sounded anxious and felt sick.

“No, no. We have other means of dealing with theft. Go back to your room with Helena. She will help you change into suitable attire and you can then both meet me in the punishment room.”

Camilla looked horrified but there was no choice. She went to her room, stripped off and put on matching white cotton underwear with navy blue edging and a mid-thigh length, floral dress. She slipped on some flat black shoes and followed Helena who took her to the punishment room.

As they entered through the solid oak door, Camilla noticed the wooden walls were well polished, the full length bookshelves were filled with books and there were two large sofas near the windows. The room was on the first floor of the house and had a decent view of the surrounding countryside. In the middle of the room was a padded box. It was high at one end and lower at the other. Sonia was already in the room and on the table to the side there was a selection of canes, which Camilla didn’t really notice.

“Take your dress off, please, and then remove your knickers as well.” Sonia spoke softly.

Helena took the dress and knickers and placed them, neatly folded, by the canes on the table. She then guided Camilla to the box and helped ease her over at the highest part. Her bottom was placed carefully on the rounded part of the box at the top, which made it stick up in the air, and her body was stretched out down the box towards the lower part. Her legs were parted and padded restraints clipped round her ankles. The same with her wrists and a leather belt was pulled across her waist ensuring that she was now unable to move. There was just enough room for her arms and legs to move slightly, but not that much. She was now in position for her caning, naked except for her white cotton bra. She felt very vulnerable.

“Camilla, for stealing a necklace you will receive eight strokes of the senior cane,” Sonia announced in her usual matter-of-fact tone and walked in front of Camilla so she could see the three-foot-long, wooden, reddish brown, well-polished cane. It was half an inch thick and looked much more rigid than Camilla thought a cane would be, at least from the pictures she had seen.

“This will hurt but it is the best way forward,” Sonia continued.

“Yes, thank you, Miss,” Camilla replied.

SWISH CRACK, the first stroke sliced into Camilla’s bottom. It landed just above centre on the white fleshy part of her buttocks, and an angry red line appeared. Camilla cried out like an animal and twisted on the box, but the restraints held firm.

As she lay still again, SWISH CRACK, the second stroked landed about an inch below the first, in the centre of her bottom, and again there was a guttural cry and more attempts to twist, as another red line appeared in parallel to its companion.

Sonia paused to see the two lines darken and two ridges appeared. Camilla was sobbing and apologizing for stealing the necklace. The lower part of Camilla's bottom was still pink from the encounter with the slipper, and the third stroke landed just above the pink patches. SWISH CRACK, another dark red line appeared and the pink flesh around it darkened slightly.

The fourth stroke, SWISH CRACK, cut right across where the slipper had been applied and Camilla howled as the pain intensified across her bottom.

There were now four, dark, evenly-spaced ridges across the girl’s bottom and the punishment was halfway through.

Sonia walked round and looked at Camilla, who was now crying.

“Just four more to go, sweetheart, and the whole episode will be forgotten.” Sonia smiled kindly as Camilla lifted her head.

“Thank you.” Camilla sobbed and lowered her head back down as her rear throbbed and ached as never before. She was learning a lesson and Sonia certainly knew how to cane a miscreant.

As she resumed her position to the side of Camilla, Sonia looked at Helena and both nodded. They knew this was going to be a harsh but very worthwhile lesson for the errant young lady.

Sonia continued the punishment. She returned her attention to the upper part of the now very sore bottom and bisected the first two strokes. Her arm raised just above shoulder height, it was brought down swiftly, SWISH CRACK. The closeness to the other two ridges made Camilla buck and pull at the restraints as she howled.

SWISH CRACK, another line cut between strokes two and three and there was more grunting and howling at the initial pain and then the sting and heat that followed. The restraints rattled some more as Camilla fought the pain.

Six distinct lines were now plainly visible to both Sonia and the onlooking Helena, as the seventh stroke, SWISH CRACK, was applied. It cut between the ridges produced by strokes 3 and 4 and was the most painful yet. Even Helena winced as it cut into the once white fleshy mounds, leaving another ridge across the swollen bottom.

The final stroke was applied with just the same force as the others, but cut below all of them and into the crease between bottom and thigh, just below where the slipper had been applied, SWISH CRACK. Again, Camilla begged for it to stop and repeated her howling and apologizing.

The ordeal was over and Camilla’s bottom was dark red with eight, straight purple ridges evenly spaced across the buttocks. She had been given a sound thrashing and the incident with the necklace was put behind her.

Slowly, she stood up when the restraints were removed. Helena helped her into her dress and knickers and they retreated to Camilla’s room for some aftercare, with Camilla remembering to thank Sonia on her way out.

Camilla was taken by Helena to dinner before the other residents and, just like those who were punished on a Friday evening, Camilla was positioned facing the wall in the corridor with her white knickers round her ankles and her dress lift up, so that all the residents could see her caned bottom, which, by this time, was purple and crimson with the ridges clearly visible for those who wished to count. On the one hand, Camilla felt humiliated by having to stand there with her knickers pulled down, but on the other hand it felt good to show off the chastisement she had received for her misconduct. The ladies in the house understood the feeling of relief and cleansing.

When all the guests were in the dining room, Camilla was summoned and Sonia read out the punishment.

“Camilla; eight strokes of the senior cane for stealing a necklace.”

They all sat and watched as Camilla very slowly and painfully sat down for her meal. She winced, her face showing that she was in much discomfort.

No one spoke of the caning and it took the whole week for Camilla’s bottom to return to its normal pale white colour. Just a hint of the eight stripes she had carried all week could be visible as thin pink lines to those who cared to look closely. She returned to the retreat on the Friday just in time for dinner. As she entered the dining room she walked past three ladies, who were facing the corridor walls, skirts raised, knickers by their ankles, each of whom had three dark red ridges across their bottoms where no doubt Sonia had performed her task in the punishment room. Camilla felt safe and loved.

The End

© Colin Brooks 2024

Colin is happy to be contacted and take feedback from his stories: colinbrookscp@gmail.com.