Short Stay Prison

Author’s note

This is an idea for a series. The context is explained in the story, but essentially where offenders commit crimes more serious than can be dealt with in the Punishment Centres of my previous works, they can be sentenced to very short sentences in a prison which is big on bondage, humiliation and corporal punishment.

Please do let me know your thoughts either by direct feedback or comments. I’m still learning with the writing thing and I have lots of ideas, but just need to get them in to stories that people want to read.

Always happy to discuss ideas via email — use the direct feedback and if you’re not anonymous, I will reply.

Thank you. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Ciara woke on her fourth morning as a prisoner in the Short Stay Prison Unit 3C. She didn’t open her eyes immediately, instead listening to what was going on in the room around her. She could feel the cuffs still locked around her wrists so knew that none of her room mates would be moving about as everyone was locked to their beds at night as standard.

She was in the cell with 3 other women all of whom were serving sentences of between 7 and 21 days as was mandated by the Corporal Punishment Regulations (Xxxx).

This was relatively new legislation which allowed the courts to dispose of criminal matters via corporal punishment in the place of, or as well as the more expensive community and prison sentences. The more minor convictions were dealt with as day cases, but where prison of up to six months could have been imposed prior to the new regulations, a much shorter sentence was available, which allowed people to take some time off work, pay their penance to society and get on with their lives without losing their jobs and livelihood. However, they were guaranteed to come out of the other side battered, bruised and humiliated.

The short stay prison requires the prisoners to undergo a different corporal punishment, restraint position or general humiliation exercise each day. It is essentially a boot camp designed to ensure that the prisoners had absolutely no desire to return and thus not reoffend.

The success rate was excellent, with re-offending down by 36% against like for life offences where the short stay prison was not employed.

Ciara listened to the room. She could tell by the breathing that at least two were still asleep leaving herself and one other awake. She opened her eyes. She resisted the urge to pull against the cuffs pinning her arms to the edge of the bed at the waist. She rolled her head to look at the room.

There were four cot style beds in the room including hers. All of them had naked women on them with their hands locked into the cuffs. All the women were lying on their backs with the beds tilted at perhaps twenty degrees, lifting their heads higher than their feet. Along one wall were the two toilets and two showers, ensuring absolutely no privacy of any kind and along the second wall that didn’t have beds, a set of restraint chains hung empty. There were cuffs there for wrists, ankles, neck and waist, which would hold the prisoner in the shape of a large X. Ciara hadn’t seen that used yet, but apparently was a favourite with the officers for punishing infraction of one of the many many rules in the short stay prison unit.

Sarah looked over at Ciara from her own cot and smiled. They were the only two awake, although Ciara could hear people moving about through the barred door to the corridor. That must be the officers and the prisoners on early duty getting things ready for the day. Ciara smiled back at Sarah, a blonde woman a few years younger than Ciara, perhaps 35 or so. Ciara could see that Sarah was wearing a discipline bra, a particularly unpleasant metal bra that clamped and crushed the breasts against pins covering the inside. Ciara hadn’t had the pleasure of the device as yet, but suspected her larger than average bust would earn her the experience before she was released. It seemed to work like that here.

The wake up buzzer sounded at 0730 precisely, a loud claxon that signalled another day of torment for every prisoner. Something specifically designed to be painful or humiliating or both would be awaiting each one of them. Ciara had been dreading today. Today was the day she was due to receive the 18 strokes of the cane which was mandated in her sentence when she was sent here for a 10 day period last week.

The locks on the wrist cuffs clicked open, controlled remotely and she and her cell mates were able to sit up and stretch, having been stuck in the same position since 10pm the night before.

Sarah winced as she stood from the bed and tugged at the metal bra that was encasing her chest. The officer had come last night and fitted the torturous device before bed. According to the PPS screen on the wall, it was due to be removed this morning. The Prisoner Punishment System was the information screen that informed prisoners what pleasures awaited them each day.

Sarah was going to be released from it’s grip this morning and was due to witness Ciara’s caning this morning, followed by physical training and then in the afternoon, an hour’s session on the rack. This was made up like a mediaeval rack, but in reality was just uncomfortable rather than actual torture. She would be spread and stretched over the central barrel piece and would likely be force fucked with a dildo, although that wasn’t listed on the screen.

Ciara herself was due to report to the punishment room immediately after breakfast and would wait there until it was her turn on the punishment frame for her 18 strokes.

“What have you got, Kelsey? Sarah asked as she moved over to the toilet to relieve herself.

“Crotch chain all day with general duties, so that could have been worse,” replied the girl who could not have been more than 20.

The crotch chain is exactly as the name suggests, a chain is locked tightly around the stomach and then runs from front to back, pulled tightly up the butt crack and through the pussy. Again, uncomfortable and a little humiliating but assuming the general duties were cleaning etc as usual, not the end of the world.

The breakfast tray arrived, pushed through the gap in the bars that blocked the doorway. The girls hardly gave it a second glance as they continued checking out what each other had in store for the day.

“Amelia, what about you?” asked Sarah.

“Display restraint at the main entrance,” Amelia sighed. There were a number of cages, frames and poles across the complex where prisoners were routinely displayed. It would be lewd display of female flesh for the benefit of official visitors and with the intent of being uncomfortable and humiliating for the prisoner concerned.

“Oh, Ciara. It’s your caning day today,” Sarah’s voice trailed off.

“Yup,” Ciara said “I’m afraid so.” She couldn’t deny she had been dreading today. Yesterday seemed like a holiday compared to today. Yesterday she had been chained to a wall outside for most of the day simply standing there, for all to see. Her biggest problem with the punishment had been the pressure on her bladder. None of the girls in the cell had been caned, but all had seen the after effects and some had heard the screams coming from the various punishment rooms across the facility. It was certain that tomorrow, the day after her caning, Ciara would be on display some where for everyone to enjoy or be intimidated by her bruises, depending on the observers view point.

Ciara missed her husband and her kids. She was a mother of two children aged 10 and 7, a girl and a boy. She lived in a nice suburb and led a quiet life. She had been prosecuted for a breach of corporate health and safety resulting in one of her staff being injured. She wasn’t seriously hurt but none the less, got injured at work through a lack of proper preventative systems. The Health and Safety Executive had investigated and prosecuted resulting in a 10 day sentence with 18 strokes of the cane to the buttocks. Even that was relatively lenient as Ciara’s research had seen cases of women sentenced to having they’re breasts or stomach caned.

Ciara was 42 and a little on the plump side if she was totally honest with herself. He Irish blood meant she has pale skin, dark hair and blue eyes and she spoke with a slight Irish twang to her accent.

She took her turn and used the toilet and shower. Each woman took time to shower thoroughly, the penalty for a lack of cleanliness or personal hygiene had been promised as severe.

The women ate breakfast around showering. Just before they were due to leave the cell to their respective ordered locations, an officer appeared at the door to the cell.

“Positions ladies” the guard barked. She was a woman of about 35 who had her keys in one hand with the other hand resting on the baton which had been very painfully demonstrated to each prisoner on arrival. The device had an electrode at the end which delivered an extremely painful but ultimately harmless electric shock that was enough to dissuade any disorder.

Each of the women in the cell stood and headed to the far wall. They stood with their feet well apart and raised their hands above their heads and leant into the wall. When they were all in position, the guard unlocked the door and came into the cell. She went over to Sarah telling her to stand in position 1 — a legs wide stance with hands interlocked on the back of the head and elbows pushed right back. This pushed the breasts out in an unnatural position, looking like the prisoner was offering her chest.

The officer stepped behind Sarah and, put a key into the lock on the back of the bra, unlocked the torture device with a click. She unceremoniously pulled it await from Sarah’s chest eliciting a scream from her prisoner who struggled to hold position as the blood rushed back to her poor abused breasts.

The guard took the device with her and slammed the cell door shut on her way out.

The women waited a few seconds to make sure she was gone before breaking position and heading over to Sarah who by then was cupping her delicate breasts in her hands. They were a horrible colour and covered in pin marks albeit the skin wasn’t broken anywhere.

“Oh my god. Look at your poor boobs!” Kelsey exclaimed.

Sarah was openly crying, unable to say anything. The other women looked at each other trying to work out how they could help, but the second claxon sounded, requiring them to head to their nominated locations. The door clicked open, again controlled remotely.

They bid each other good luck and headed out for another day of misery.

Ciara arrived promptly at the Punishment room 3 as instructed. There was a sign on a side door which said ‘Prisoners for Punishment’, so she knocked on the door. A voice from behind the door told her to enter which she did, to find a room not much bigger than the cell she had just come from with nothing but a desk and chair with a male officer sitting in it.

“Name?” he enquired in an authoritative voice.

“Ciara Murphy, sir” she replied. She stood as she’d been briefed on her arrival. It was essentially how the army stood to attention, except she was totally naked and he was fully clothed.

“18 with the number 3 cane. Ok,” said the officer, “go to position 1 and secure the collar around your neck.” Ciara hadn’t noticed when she came in, but there were 4 white squares painted on the floor next to the wall opposite the man and there were 4 corresponding metal collars hanging from chains fastened high up on the wall. The collar was a metal ring that clearly clicked locked around the prisoner’s neck, rendering her essentially immobile other than the reach of the chain which she guessed would be about three feet.

She took the collar in her hands and hesitated. This was it. The moment of no return. Not that, in any practical sense, she had had any option before now, unless she had chosen the 3 months imprisonment which was the alternative.

She took a deep breath, brought the collar up to her neck and shut it. It locked with a click and there she was. A 42 year old professional woman reduced to being chained naked to a wall to await her caning.

The officer had been watching her to make sure she complied, but he was now not interested in her in any way, going back to his paperwork. She eyed the unmarked door she had not come through warily, appreciating full well that she would be stepping through there in no time at all to get her arse striped. She shuddered and was about to cry at the unfairness of it, when she was distracted by the next prisoner coming in.

She was very overweight woman of about the same age as Ciara. She had a large belly protruding considerably further than her breasts that hung from her chest, meeting the top of her belly. Her thighs were chubby too. She was also wearing a crotch strap that had been pulled tightly into her flesh causing a bulge around the waist belt and the top of the crotch strap before it disappeared into her sex. She was walking like the strap may be holding something inside her and she looked thoroughly miserable. The same procedure played out except she was to receive 20 strokes, and in no time at all, she was chained by the neck to position 2.

The women smiled at each other in some attempt at solidarity, but that couldn’t reach each other and neither of them said anything.

The third prisoner arrived. A tall thin woman with large firm breasts. She couldn’t have been more than 20 either. The same process was followed and she was soon chained at position 3 to wait her 24 strokes. She stood with her back to the other two, Ciara assumed in an attempt to try and preserve modesty. She must be new here, Ciara thought.

The fourth space was never filled. They stood like that for a time that felt like it could have been a couple of hours. The officer ignored the three women completely as he worked on the computer in front of him.

A female officer walked in from the door Ciara had no desire to walk through. She was a redhead, younger that Ciara, maybe 25, and was wearing the standard officer’s uniform. She looked fairly glamourous in her uniform. Ciara eyed the utility belt with the cuffs and the baton and the leather strap the officers could use for what they called informal punishments.

“Ok we’re ready for the first one,” she said to her colleague. “there’s quite a few in today, these caning sessions are getting popular. There’s only two or three in room 2 for the whippings.”

Her colleague grunted and shrugged in a non committal way. The female officer stood in front of Ciara, “are you Ciara Murphy?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am,” replied Ciara.

“Ok. It’s time for your caning. Do I need to cuff you or will you comply with no messing about?”

“No ma’am. I’ll comply,” Ciara said in a small voice.

“Good. That’s the best way. I’m going to release you from the chain, I want you to stand ready facing the door in position 2. Do you understand?” the officer asked.

“Err, yes miss. I mean ma’am,” Ciara said but she struggled to remember position 2.

The officer nodded and reached up to Ciara’s neck and she heard a click as the collar unlocked. She took a step forward and placed her legs together and folded her arms horizontality in the small of her back. She hoped to hell this was right and that she wasn’t about to feel the baton.

This position had the effect of pushing Ciara’s substantial chest forward as she stood waiting.

She felt the officer grip her bicep and push her gently but firmly towards to door. When they got there and before she opened it, the officer said, “we’re going to go into the room. You will see the frame which I’m going to strap you to. I want you to stay still while we do that. Sometimes, girls get nervous and start messing about. That’s not going to stop anything, but it will get you extra punishment. The best thing you can do, is get in there and get strapped in. That way, you’re in and done and you can’t get yourself in more trouble. Are you ready?”

Ciara took a deep breath and shuddered. “Yes ma’am”.

“Good. Just one more thing. There’s an audience in there. Some are prisoners, some are invited guests and some have paid to watch the punishments here today. Just try to ignore them and whatever you do, don’t speak to them.

With that, she pushed the door open and guided Ciara through into the room.

Ciara was propelled through, which was probably just as well, because she desperately wanted to run away.

In the centre of the room in prime position was a polished steel frame. It was made up of pipe type bars that reminded Ciara of scaffolding. The purpose of the frame was brutally clear, as was the purpose of the wide leather straps dangling from the frame at various locations.

Behind the frame were benches like in a lecture theatre where there were maybe 40 people staring back at Ciara. There were naked prisoners and fully clothed guests.

Ciara suddenly became horribly aware of her own nudity. She’d almost got used to it over the last three days, but this was the first time she had seen clothed people other than the prison officers.

Before she had too much time to think about it, she found herself at the frame with her waist pushing against the cross bar. She found that her arms were still in position 2 somehow and she was aware that the officer was behind her. There was another female officer on the other side of the frame.

The first officer was at Ciara’s ear. “I’m about to bend you forward. I need you to reach forward and grip the handles. Remember what I said.”

Ciara nodded but didn’t say anything. She felt the officer’s hand move up to the back of her neck and apply firm pressure. Ciara bent at the waist and reached for the handles and gripped them.

Almost before she’d realised, the second officer had taken each wrist and secured a leather strap around them, holding each wrist down against the frame, but allowing Ciara the freedom of movement to grip the handles.

She could see her hands beyond the think brown leather that encircled her wrists holding them into place. She saw the pale skin on her finger where her wedding ring had been earlier in the week before being taken away from her when she got here.

Next she felt the first officer grip her left ankle and push it towards the left leg of the frame. Another leather strap secured it there and that was followed by her right ankle. This spread her legs so that she was sure her pussy was fully on display, but thankfully facing away from the gathered witnesses.

The officer began turning a wheel on the side of the frame which extended the frame, pulling her wrists forward and out kept going until her hips were pulled tightly up against the edge of the frame. Her arms were are full stretch and the leather straps around her wrists were digging into to her flesh. She could feel the pressure on her shoulders and at her wrists but she wasn’t in pain. Yet.

Ciara couldn’t see behind her, but she could feel her ankles being separated further, spreading her legs to the point of discomfort. She could only imagine what the view was like from behind. Especially since prisoners are not permitted any pubic hair. People behind her would be able to get an unrestricted view of her most private parts.

She was unable to move much with her limbs stretched as they were and her hips pushed against the cross bar, but the officers weren’t done.

Another leather strap went over the base of her back, just above her buttocks. It was pulled through the buckle on the other side of the frame and pulled so tight, Ciara heard the officer grunt with the effort. The strap dug into her flesh painfully and she could feel the tightness across her back. As she breathed in and out she could feel the strap pull tighter as her chest cavity expanded with air.

Ciara was absurdly conscious of what her breasts and belly must look like in the position she was forced into. There was nothing to the frame between her wrists and waist meaning that her breasts were hanging freely and she could feel the air around her nipples. She couldn’t see, but could imagine her modest belly hanging down between the bars of the frame.

She could feel her face colour at the thought, which she reflected was somewhat ludicrous given her overall situation.

She was facing the witnesses but her face was naturally facing the floor which she was happy about.

The officers had yet another, final humiliation for the 42 year old mother of two. She felt a cold liquid between her butt cheeks and pressure against her anus.

A noise escaped the throat that was almost inhuman.

“Relax Ciara,” the officer said, “this is to help you not clench your buttocks, which I promise you, you will be grateful of. Just let it slide in.”

Ciara reflected that that was easier said than done, but she closed her eyes and relaxed as best she could. This wouldn’t be the first time something has been up there, but this time was considerably less fun.

Without much further drama, the object pushed past her sphincter a sat snugly in place. Ciara felt full and experimented. As soon as she clenched her cheeks, a sharp stabbing pain caught her along her anal cleft. The device was sitting in her anus to anchor it, and was made up of two rows of sharp metal spikes which now sat in between her cheeks. When she clenched, the cheeks pushed onto the spikes, strongly discouraging such a move.

The first officer stood near to her and faced the witnesses.

“Good morning. I am officer Starr. I am the designated punishment officer for today’s sessions. I will be delivering the punishments. This is Ciara Murphy, she is 42 years of age has been sentenced to receive 18 strokes of the cane today as part of her sentence for Health and Safety Breaches causing injury.”

She turned to Ciara and said quietly “ok. I need to read out the warrant of corporal punishment. Hang on in there, you’ll be all done soon.” Ciara almost laughed despite the situation. Hang on in there? It wasn’t as if she could go anywhere!

“Ciara Murphy,” the officer started in a loud voice so that everyone could hear. “Pursuant to Section 37a of the Criminal and Civil Justice Act (2018) and The Corporal Punishment (Summary Justice) Regulations (2019), you have been duly sentenced to corporal punishment in the form of 18 strokes of the number three cane to the naked buttocks in the manner prescribed by the relevant Secretary of State. This warrant will now be executed in this place by order of the Greater West Magistrates Court. Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?”

Ciara summoned all her courage to make her voice sound as confident as possible, “No ma’am,” she said in a loud voice.

“Prepare yourself then. I will now commence the punishment. My colleague will count the strokes.”

Ciara held her breath, closed her eyes and gripped the handles until get knuckles were white. Instinctively, she clenched her butt cheeks in readiness for the onslaught, but the spikes reminded her of the error of her ways.

She waited. Nothing happened. She opened her eyes again and released her breath when she heard it. A whoosh which was unmistakably a cane whipping through the air, and then she heard a crack. She wondered who had been caned because there wasn’t. . . .

. . . Ciara screamed a scream that she would swear wasn’t her own. The searing pain across her bum was like nothing she’d ever felt. She lept up as far as her restraints would allow, which was basically nothing. It allowed her breasts to wobble as they hung below her, but other than that, she was restrained tightly.

“One” the second officer called impassively.

The first officer with the cane took a step closer to Ciara to assess her handiwork and was satisfied to see a perfectly delivered stroke, parallel to the leather strap holding the older woman in position. She took in the rest of the buttocks in front of her and chose the next spot. She had decided to aim for a large freckle which was on the woman’s left buttock just above the crease of her thighs.

She kept an eye on the wall clock and when 30 seconds had passed since the first, she drew her arm back and delivered the second blow. The women on the frame wailed again and the whole frame moved slightly on the floor as she bucked against her restraints. Officer Starr was pleased with herself when she noticed that the white line that was appearing and turning red before her eyes had hit bang on the freckle she had aimed at.

Ciara heard the officer call “Two” and was able to gather herself a bit. It hurt like hell, but she could do this. She wasn’t going to let this younger woman get the better of her. She decided that was what was going to get her through this.

She lifted her head to survey the crowd. She let her eyes pass over all the clothed people to the naked prisoners. She was looking for Sarah, or any of the other girls she recognised.

The officer struck again and another searing pain exploded in her mind. She couldn’t help but buck against her restraints, but she felt she had a better control now.

She looked back and found the prisoners. She realised they were all in shackles like the old chain gangs. Wrists and belly chains on each one. She found Sarah, third from the end.. ..

Whack! Another stroke hit and again she thrust forward against the frame and her restraints, but this time rather than a scream, she managed to control it a bit, a deep grunt escaped her mouth instead.

She found Sarah again and saw she was watching. A look of horror on her face. Ciara tried to force a smile to the girl who smiled back.

That little bit of a friendly face lifted Ciara spirits. She was determined not to be beaten by this.

Officer Starr was quite happy with how this caning was progressing. She hadn’t been qualified all that long and this was probably only her fifth or sixth session without supervision.

The older women in front of her had a nice plump arse which was simply inviting the cane and taking each stroke really well. She had created herself her top and bottom margins within the first couple of strokes as the training manual demanded. The top being at the top of the buttocks an inch or so below the restraint strap. The bottom margin stroke for a sentence of 18 strokes was required to be approximately one third down the thigh. She was happy with the placement, but a little disappointed that it wasn’t quite straight across the thighs.

Watching the clock, she raised the cane again. She watched the assembled crowd it the corner of her eye, waiting for the attention to be on the cane, before bringing it crashing down exactly half way between the markers.

Murphy grunted again rather than screamed. A reaction that interested Starr. Her junior colleague announced “five”.

This was Starr’s first caning this week and she had to admit it felt good. Not through any perverse pleasure, but of a professional delivering her crest craft well. Whipping was fine, but didn’t require the precision which a caning demanded, at least to satisfy the professional pride and good natured competition between the punishment officers.

She watched the clock. Ten seconds to go. Where next. She went for one of her favourite spots — right on the crease between the thigh and the buttock.

That got Murphy’s attention. That was definitely a scream. The whole frame inched forward again and Starr could see her clench her butt cheeks tight before the spikes did their job again.

“Six” her colleague shouted above the cry of the prisoner.

Starr could see the angry red welts developing from the earlier strokes. The woman’s arse was going to bruise beautifully.

Ciara heard the count. She had made it to six. One third done. That last one was vicious, but this was ok. She was going to survive this. She kept eye contact with Sarah as much as she could. She was dutifully ignoring the other people there who were obviously chiefly there to see naked women caned as apposed to a greater good reason.

She was struck again. She managed to keep it to a grunt again, but she was beginning to lose definition of where she was being hit. It just all hurt.

Starr could see red marks developing around the restraint strap over Murphy’s back. She was clearly managing some level of movement to allow the strap to move and cause the mark. On reflection, perhaps she had done that a bit tight, but the slightly overweight body had appealed to her. She’d given it a good tug to create a depression in the flesh.

She raised the cane and struck again. The woman bucked in her restraints. Starr observed her hands, she was gripping and ungripping the handle repeatedly and she had her teeth clenched to, Starr assumed, prevent the scream escaping.

Murphy was beginning to sweat. A sheen of sweat was appearing at the base of her back. This was not uncommon for a caning and was to be expected according to the manual.

Ciara was coping. There was clearly a rythm and she had gotten herself into it. Her mouth was dry and her skin was damp. She could feel a rivulet of sweat formed and it was running down from her armpit and was now at the base of her dangling breast.

She hung her head again. She could she down between her breasts to the flesh of her belly and to her widely spread thighs. She couldn’t see her pussy because of her belly, but she knew she was exposed. It was humiliating, but weirdly exhilarating. This officer and this place were doing their best to break her. Sure it was hurting like hell, and sure she’d rather be pretty much anywhere else, but she was coping. She was going to be fine and she wasn’t even crying.

Officer Starr saw the change in body language of her prisoner. There weren’t many signs, largely because she was so well restrained, but her head raised slightly and some of her muscles tensed. Clearly, the officer wasn’t aware of Ciara’s internal thoughts, but something had changed in the last minute or so.

Starr raised the cane again. She aimed again for the sweet spot of between the buttocks and the thighs. She delivered a perfect stroke. Ideal speed and force, placed perfectly. There was almost no reaction from the prisoner. There was a slight grunt and her hands gripped the handles once and then relaxed again.

“Twelve” called her colleague

The young officer was very interested by this. Often the reactions went the other way, starting smaller and ending up in screaming and crying. She assessed her work. There were 12 clear lines across the woman’s plump buttocks and thighs. They were evenly spaced, except for the two she’d deliberately placed at the crease at the base of her butt. The sheen of sweat was clearly visible now and there were red marks around all of the straps holding the woman down. But she’d lifted her head, staring into the witnesses. And she was keeping it there

Starr struck again. Early in the cycle this time, maybe about 20 seconds rather than 30. The woman grunted and moved slightly against her straps, but kept looking at the observers. She didn’t hang her head or grip the handles. Starr had expected to catch the woman off guard.

The young officer knew she was now being unprofessional, but she was determined to get another scream from her older prisoner in the remaining 5 strokes. She adjusted her stance and shook her shoulders out. A wisp of hair fell over her face, which she quickly tucked behind her ear using the hand without the cane in it. She took a deep breath and looked at the audience, some of whom were watching her, but most of whom had their eyes fixed on the prisoner, strapped down tightly to the punishment frame.

The woman’s butt cheeks were heating up, that was obvious. The earlier lines Officer Starr had placed had developed into a deep red colour and most had welts raised up from the plump skin. Depending on your stance, it was a total mess – a tangle of bruises and welts, or a work of art that the professionals in the officer staff should be proud of.

Officer Starr planned to change that in a minute. The final 3 strokes would certainly leave an impression.

For now though, she was going to stick to procedure. She raised her cane and brought it down as hard as she could, parallel to the other lines on the bottom and thighs.

She grunted louder this time, and her breathing became very rapid for 10 seconds or so, the younger officer watched the skin around the restraints pull tight.

“thirteen” the second officer called out.

Ciara struggled with that one. She was pretty sure that was harder than the rest. She was aware that she only had a few strokes to go and this spurred her on. This was horrible and tough, but she knew she could do it. She was determined and she’d set her mind to it. She looked at Sarah who was still looking at her and smiling encouragingly.

Officer Starr’s plan was for the next two in quick succession. This wasn’t against the rules, or even procedure, technically at least. It wasn’t the way it was normally done at this prison, but she was within her rights as the punishment officer to be the decision maker, within the law.

She tested her cane position gently against the woman’s skin. The prisoner visibly jumped, but on realising it wasn’t a stroke she relaxed again.

Officer Starr glanced at her colleague who was watching her. It was a meaningful look, but she didn’t think her colleague understood.

She pulled the cane back and struck the fourteenth stroke of the sentence of eighteen.

As the prisoner bucked against the straps and grunted as was becoming the norm, Starr quickly reversed her arm back to the position and struck again.

The crack of the cane interrupted her colleague who was half way through announcing the fourteenth. She looked at officer Starr in surprise, hesitating for a fraction of a second, but recovered quickly.

“Fourteen and fifteen” she declared, in a deadpan voice that didn’t betray her surprise at the unplanned change in procedure. She looked at Starr and Starr immediately regretted that decision. She had compromised the professionalism of the prison staff. She glanced at the audience. It was clear non of them cared. They were mostly transfixed watching the prisoner who was shifting uncomfortably.

There hadn’t been a scream, but she was still struggling against the straps.

Ciara was caught totally by surprise by the change in tempo. It had taken her breath away and she was panicking a bit. She’d lost her confidence now that it was unpredictable. She knew she had three strokes to go. She thought if all three went quick, it would hurt so so much, but at least it would be over.

She had no such luck. The wait for the next stroke was excruciating. She had a huge desire to tense every muscle in her body, but knew she couldn’t because of the spikes in her butt crack.

Starr was about to go completely off normal operation, but this wouldn’t be known by anyone but her and the prisoner. At least until the older women was put on display.

She adjusted her stance slightly. The cane would land at a different angle and was going to go across the parallel lines of the previous 15 strokes. This was technically against the procedure manual, but not the law. It wasn’t illegal. It might raise an eyebrow or two with her colleagues, but it wasn’t going to get her into trouble. She hoped.

She brought the cane down diagonally and smiled inwardly as the woman let out that much sought after scream. It was loud and it was guttural. She fought the restraints violently. That had clearly made an impression on the woman.

“Sixteen” was called by the officer, who looked at her younger but senior colleague quizzically, but didn’t say anything.

Ciara had lost capacity for logical thought. She had found a new level of pain that she couldn’t have imagined existed. She managed, eventually to get herself under control, but only just before the next stroke came.

She couldn’t stop the scream, but she did manage to control her reaction somewhat. No pointless fighting this time. She decided she was probably happy with that.

“Seventeen. Final stroke next!” the officer declared.

Ciara looked at Sarah, who mouthed something to her, but she couldn’t tell what.

The next stroke came. The final stroke. It made contact with the crisp sound that could only come from cane on flesh.

“Eighteen. Punishment complete,” declared the officer.

Ciara had managed to get back to the grunt rather than the scream. She was counting that as a victory and she was smug about it. She smiled to herself and glanced at Sarah, who looked thoroughly confused. That made Ciara laugh out loud despite her tears. A single laugh that probably sounded like a cough. Certainly, not many people seemed to notice.

Officer Starr stepped forward, still holding the cane. “Ladies and gentlemen, that completes the corporal punishment order issued by the court. For anyone who is interested, Prisoner Murphy will now be transferred to display for the next 2 hours. She will be available for viewing in a few minutes in area 3. The next prisoner is Henderson who is sentenced to twenty strokes. That punishment will commence in twenty minutes from now.

“Thank you for your kind attention and, if you are not staying, thank you for coming and on behalf of myself and the staff, we hope you have a safe journey.”

The second officer moved over to the frame where Ciara was restrained. She produced a pair of handcuffs and locked one around Ciara’s wrist, then unstrapped her arm. She used the handcuff to pull that wrist to the one still restrained, cuffed Ciara’s wrists together and then released both arms from the frame.

Next, Officer Starr placed one hand on the base of Ciara’s back and unceremoniously removed the butt plug, dropping it into a container provided by her colleague.

Ciara gasped, but still being restrained by legs and at the waist, had little option to do anything about it.

“Ok,” Starr said to the prisoner, “your legs will be released first and then your waist. It is important that you do not move until instructed. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am” she replied.

The leg restraints were ok although, without trying to move them, Ciara understood that her muscles were cramped from the extreme position and realised that standing up wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.

She also suddenly realised that with her hands cuffed in front, they had even robbed her of the chance to comfort her damaged, tortured skin. Another petty cruelty that made the short stay prisons so effective.

The removal of the waist belt hurt like hell. The pain was completely unexpected by Ciara and she yelped. Once the blood returned though, the pain eased.

“My colleague and I are going to assist you to stand. Be ready on my command.” Ciara felt hands grip both her upper arms, “Ok. Stand,” Starr said.

The two officers helped Ciara to stand. Her muscles cried out, but she was able to keep her feet herself.

They turned her and marched her towards the door. Looking at the threesome from behind, allowed the audience their first proper look at the results of the caning. There were a few gasps as they walked towards the door.

They pushed her through the door and down the corridor to one of the many display areas.

Ciara saw the pillory and immediately knew where her home was about to be for the next two hours.

Sure enough, that’s where she was taken. The officers made sure she never had an opportunity to touch her bottom as she was bent forward at ninety degrees and locked into position.

They left her there without another word. Her bottom was on fire, her belly and her boobs were hanging down which was basically her worst case bondage scenario.