Corporate Justice 3
Corporate Justice 3
After seeing the relieved and delighted look on Adam’s face when she
assured him that she wasn’t mad at him, even though he had just bruised
her bottom in the Correction Facility, Jill had high hopes that he would
appear later that night.Had it not been for Adam, today would certainly have been the worst day of Jill’s life. Caught operating an illegal beauty salon in her apartment, Jill had been sentenced to two sessions of CP. Today had been her first. While at the Quick Correction (QC) facility, she had met and immediately fallen in love with Adam. Adam had served as her Correction Administrator (CA), which means that he was the person who interminably spanked her bare bottom until it was livid and bruised. Strangely, she didn’t hold it against him. She had been sentenced to the punishment, and Adam was just doing his job.
Of course, that didn’t make her bottom feel any better. The trip home had been painful and embarrassing. When she boarded the bus in front of the Justice building, the bus driver had snickered loudly when she stood in the half-empty bus. He obviously knew enough to easily recognize someone who had recently been a “client” in the QC facility.
Finally inside her apartment, she stripped and laid face-down in bed. Old childhood memories of long-ago parental spankings played through her head. Finally, mercifully, she drifted off to sleep.
Later, her eyes popped wide open when she heard a knock. She jumped up, the movement reviving the pain in her bottom. Frantically she looked for something to cover her naked body. “Just a moment” she called as she urgently searched for a robe.
Finally covered, she cracked open the door. Sure enough, Adam!
Quickly she let him in. Finally alone, the new lovers shared their very first kiss. Not really thinking, she said “I need time to get dressed.”
Blushing, Adam asked, “Haven’t I already seen everything? Besides, I have something to help your bottom.”
It was Jill’s turn to blush. “I guess you’re right,” she admitted.
Adam opened the paper bag he was carrying and produced two bottles. One was wine, and a smaller bottle held a white cream. The cream he had obtained on the underground economy. The irony that he had so recently spanked Jill for much the same offense was lost on both of them. The underground economy is a natural survival tactic for downtrodden workers worldwide. This government was no more likely to stamp out the underground economy than to stamp out sex, or breathing. However, logic doesn’t stop a government from trying the impossible.
Minutes later, Adam had convinced Jill to lose the robe and to lie on her bed with her legs spread open for an application of the soothing cream. She relaxed has his now-gentle hands spread the cream over every square inch of her spanked skin. Then his slippery fingers started to explore…
The night was as sensual and idyllic as they had dreamed it would be. The same can be said for their blossoming relationship over the next two weeks. The only dark spot was Jill’s looming punishment. When Jill received the subpoena ordering her to report the following week for her first Overnight Correction (OC) session, Adam tried to tell her what she was in for, and to offer helpful advice. However, Jill refused to discuss the issue, “I’d rather not know. Either way, I’ll get the same punishment, and it will be over just as soon.” Adam didn’t agree, but he couldn’t convince her. Fortunately, they agreed that Adam shouldn’t be there when it happened. So Adam arranged his work schedule accordingly.
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Inevitably, the day arrived for Jill’s Overnight Correction (OC) session. A short bus ride after work took her to the Southwest Female Overnight Correction Center. Having arrived 20 minutes early, she stood outside and nervously nibbled on a sandwich she had packed for her supper. There was a small crowd of similarly nervous ladies waiting outside, each carrying a small overnight bag.
Presently, the door opened, and a lady in a tan uniform called everyone in. Inside, she carefully checked everybody’s ID, and then issued each person a neck hanger which held their ID card, and a card with a single large digit. The digit on Jill’s hanger was “4”. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the digit signified the punishment severity level she had been sentenced to. Looking around, she saw that 4 was a common number, although there were a few 5’s and a sprinkling of 3’s, 2’s and even one older lady sporting a “1”.
Once all were tagged, a man in tan uniform appeared and introduced himself as the Supervisor. “We have a full house tonight, so let’s get going. Through this door is the locker room. Select a locker, disrobe entirely except for your neck hanger, lock up, and then proceed to the shower room through the next door. After you shower, proceed through the drying tunnel to the next room. Questions?”
Hearing no questions, he opened the door and stepped aside. Jill noticed that several of the ladies pushed to be among the first. Inside she found a locker and began to undress. She wasn’t half undressed before some others were naked and slamming their lockers shut. Minutes ahead of her, they headed to the showers. Jill wondered about the rush, but saw no need to hurry to her inevitable ordeal.
Finally naked, Jill entered the showers just in time to see a CA stop some dry-appearing ladies and send them back for a proper shower. They had apparently tried to jump the line by skipping the shower. Jill showered, and was among the last through the drying tunnel, where blasts of hot air quickly made a towel unnecessary.
Stepping out of the loud drying tunnel, Jill found herself in the medical room. There each client was seen by a white-uniformed nurse. First, Jill had to put her hand in a machine which verified her identity and simultaneously checked for painkillers and other drugs. The nurse checked Jill’s medical records, checked her tag, took her temperature, and listened to her heart. “Ok, your identity checks and you’re healthy as an ox,” the nurse said, picking up a cigar-sized felt marker, “Turn around.”
Jill obeyed, and felt a tickle as the nurse marked a big “4” over the base of her spine. “That’s so there’s no confusion after they fasten you to the trestle” the nurse helpfully explained. “That way you get the severity of correction you’ve been sentenced to, not more or less.” The nurse pointed Jill to the next door.
Inside that door, she found herself in a sort of hallway that had been formed by placing a transparent wall along one end of the punishment room. This is where the clients waited their turn, so Jill found herself at the end of a long line of naked ladies, each with a black number scrawled above her bottom crack. Except for that wall and the lack of lockers, this punishment room was much the same as the one at the QC facility, it was filled with spanking chairs and punishment trestles.
At the head of the line, stood the Supervisor, “All the severity fives come forward.” He said loudly, “We always start with you first.” Four women reluctantly moved to the head of the line. Using a pad computer, he checked their names against a list, and then took time to check each client’s file and briefly speak to her. As he finished with each, he assigned her to a CA, who would lead her to a chair for the fifteen-minute spanking that would start her “correction” session.
Since Jill was near the end of the line, she had plenty of time to observe the happenings in the punishment room, which was exactly why the wall of the hallway was transparent! She soon realized that they had also helpfully installed a sound system so that she could hear everything. At the moment, what was happening was that those four ladies were across four laps simultaneously receiving their standard 15-minute spankings. The result was loud and frightening. She knew that things would soon become more frightening, because the trestles were presently empty, waiting for “clients“ to emerge from the spanking chairs.
Now Jill finally did the math, and figured out why so many of the other ladies wished to be near the head of the line. After counting the number of clients ahead of her in line, she calculated that she would be standing in that queue and dreading her own punishment for nearly two hours! She should have listened to Adam.
The wait was hell! Her legs felt like they would give out under her. She stood on one leg and then the other, and even tied leaning against the wall. Most of the “clients” ahead of her in line went quietly when their turn came, but none remained quiet for long under the onslaught of their CA’s rubber paddle. Each client received a full fifteen minutes of that treatment, and for most that was only the beginning. She watched countless bottoms turn various shades of red as their owners kicked, cried, squirmed, squealed, twisted, & begged as each received a full measure of corporal correction.
Whoever designed this facility had truly thought of everything! There was even a toilet and sink in one corner. She saw two clients ask to use the toilet, and permission was freely given. Using the totally exposed facility looked terribly embarrassing, so Jill guessed that the ladies were desperate.
She never figured out how many CAs there were. They seemed to rotate through the room so that none would become overly tired from the exertions of “correcting” clients. In particular, they would disappear into their break room after delivering a 15-minute spanking, and then another CA would take over that spanking chair to do the next 15-minute spanking. For reasons that Jill was quickly figuring out, the entire process was deliberately unhurried.
That lucky lady who had a “1” on her tag was allowed to go to the next room immediately after her spanking, but everyone else still had more “correction” to come. In the QC unit, the waiting period between punishments had been optional; here it was a mandatory thirty minutes. Further, the “fives” remained separated from the rest of the group, apparently being saved to be last on the trestles. Thus the trestles stayed empty for much of the first hour. After the fifteen-minute spanking, each bawling, stricken client would be marched to a location along the wall, and handed the implement that would be used on her when her time over the trestle arrived. They all stood where they had a full view of the happenings in the room, and of the waiting trestles.
Surprisingly, the freshly-spanked clients were allowed to rub their livid bottoms all they wished while waiting for their next punishment. Jill heard one CA tell a client, “Yes, rub all the sting out of that bottom! That gives us a nice fresh bottom for the second part of your correction.“
Jill could clearly see that most of the spanked ladies had been handed straps, but a few held red medium paddles. The criteria for the choice seemed to have something to do with the severity of their coming correction and also their skin type. The “fives” however, were standing in a special group. Each held both a strap and a sort of rod with a handle on one end. Obviously, they were due for some especially painful treatment.
When sufficient clients had finally received their fifteen-minute spankings, and served their minimum waiting time, a CA selected four and pointed them towards the trestles. He ignored the group of “fives”, leaving them to watch and anticipate. Using wide black Velcro restraints, he fastened each lady to her trestle, and neatly hung her implement from a hook on the side. Then he walked away, leaving the ladies time to contemplate their imminent correction.
From her vantage point, Jill could clearly see the numbers written on the backs of each bent-over client. There was one “2,” one “3,” and two “4’s. Although she would still have preferred to remain ignorant, somehow Jill was unable to tear her eyes away as two CAs appeared and each selected an implement from a trestle. By now the line in front of Jill had reduced to half its former size. Her mouth became dry as she peered at the bottoms so prominently displayed over the four trestles. As she watched the two ladies with the “4”s scrawled on their backs, Jill knew that she was peering into her own future.
Unexpectedly, a distraction tore her attention from the action at the trestle. A client had been making a loud fuss during her fifteen-minute spanking. Of course, clients are allowed to make noise, so no problem there! The problem came after the CA allowed her back up; she slapped him in the face!
The supervisor ran to subdue the client before she did something else. Quickly the lady realized her error and apologized loudly and adamantly. With the situation calmed, the supervisor huddled with the slapped CA and the lady. Had he insisted, the client could have been charged with assault, a very serious matter indeed. A compromise was reached. The lady nodded in sad agreement, and actually shook hands with the CA she had so rudely slapped. Then at the supervisor’s order she turned, bent at the waist, and presented her red bottom. Jill expected the supervisor to apply some sort of corporal correction to the lady, but to her surprise he produced a large felt-tip pen, drew an “X” through the large “3” mark at the base of her spine, and replaced it with a “5”. Then he handed the sobbing lady a strap and a rod before directing her to stand with the other “5”s who were waiting their eventual turn at the trestles. Having the severity of her punishment increased from a “3” to a “5” would be a painful price to pay, but not near as painful as the punishment for assault to a government official.
Now Jill’s attention returned to the trestles. The “2” lady had been first. The CA had spanked her entire bottom with a medium paddle until it’s already reddish hue become several shades deeper. The lady shrieked and struggled while it was happening, and then she was left, still fastened down, to cry her heart out. But having only been sentenced to a severity 2 correction, she was one of the lucky few. Simultaneously, her neighbor was receiving her severity 3 correction. That CA used a strap to first re-spank every inch of her bottom and thighs, before standing back to deliver several devastation blows to her bottom and sit spots. The lady was “branded,” painfully bruised much as Adam had done to Jill that day at the QC facility.
As Jill continued to watch, the two CAs approached the other two clients waiting on the trestles. Jill wanted to turn away, but her eyes stayed unwillingly glued to the sight. These ladies had big “4”s written on their backs. So whatever happened to them would soon also happen to Jill!
The CAs picked up the straps that were hung on the side of each trestle. Each used the strap to carefully paint every reachable square inch of each lady’s bottom, thighs, and upper legs an incandescent shade of red. The ladies squealed piteously and ineffectively struggled at their restraints, and their bottoms jiggled and jerked and clenched and rippled from the force of the whipping leather. So far, their strapping was almost identical to the one just delivered to the severity “3” lady, although the CAs seemed to be more clinical in their thoroughness. As before, they worked fairly quickly. Their goal was to re-ignite every nerve ending in the client’s bottom, and bring it to a slightly more livid red then it had been after their spankings. At a nod to each other, they stepped back to allow themselves room for the vicious finishing strokes.
Here Jill learned the real difference between severity “3" and severity “4" punishments. As the ladies shrieked, the CA’s used the strap at nearly full strength to “brand” not only their bottoms and sit spots, but also the backs of their thighs. It was obvious that sitting would be a painful experience for these ladies for the next several days. Jill blanched, realizing that she was in for the same treatment.
When the two screaming, bellowing, twisting, sweating ladies had been thoroughly marked with the straps, the two CAs closely inspected their work, hung up the straps, and casually left. A few minutes later, a Quality Control inspector carefully checked each lady’s identity and the condition of her bottom while making entries on her pad computer. Finally she unstrapped the punished clients, leaving the trestles ready for the next set of clients. She pointed the ladies to a door marked “Retraining Room”.
The line ahead of Jill was getting shorter and shorter. Jill found herself shaking from nerves. Most ladies went quietly when their turn came, but a few tried one last futile argument in their defense, several sobbed loudly, and others begged piteously. None gave any serious resistance, because all had been warned of serious and painful consequences should they try.
Finally Jill’s time came. She found herself at the head of the line staring at the supervisor. Unknown to Jill, the Supervisor knew who Jill was. He made it his business to know such things. He admired Jill’s compact, perfectly-formed body, and mused that Adam was a lucky man. Still, even the girlfriend of a CA was treated the same as any other client here. As he had done with every other client, he found her record on his tablet computer, and then verified her identity tag, and verified the severity number on her tag and written on her spine. Finally he spoke: “Your full name please?”
“Jill Ann Perkins...Sir.”
He squinted at his computer screen, “Jill you are here today to receive a severity four correction. You must learn to not deal in the underground economy. We hope you learn your lesson well, and we hope that this is your last visit here.”
“Y...yes sir.”
“Since you’re the last in line, I suppose you know the routine by now.”
Jill nodded.
The supervisor would have secretly enjoyed spanking her himself, but out of respect to Adam he called a female CA over. “Jill, please meet Betty. Betty will apply your 15-minute spanking, and then show you what’s next.”
Time stood still as Jill felt the CA firmly take her by the arm and lead her towards a recently-emptied spanking chair. She saw the rubber paddle in the CA’s other hand, and knew that it would soon be used on her own bottom. Jill wasn’t even aware that she was sobbing out loud, but she was vaguely thankful that the tears blurred her sight. She may have resisted a bit, but a firm tug put Jill across the CA’s ample thighs, Her feet slid under that familiar padded rail that left her legs free to kick and splay, but prevented her from lifting them above the horizontal.
The CA activated the timer hanging from her neck, and expertly began Jill’s correction. Unlike before, Jill lacked the advantage of being distracted by sexual arousal. This time, she felt the full effect of every blow of that wicked little rubber paddle right from the beginning. Almost immediately Jill screeched and did a lewd horizontal dance as the CA paddled her jiggling globes red. To Jill, this spanking seemed much worse than the one Adam had given her, even though there was likely little actual difference.
Jill tried to twist herself off the CA’s lap, but she really didn’t have a chance against the strong and experienced lady, who easily held her in place and continued to rain corrective pain onto Jill’s tender rear vistas. As before, the worst part was when the CA insisted that she open her legs so that she could apply a proper dose of “correction” to Jill’s tender inner thighs.
To Jill it seemed to last forever, but even forever has its limits. The spanking finally over, Jill found herself dancing and bawling in front of the CA who looked at her with studied professional detachment. “OK, that’s the first part of your correction,” she said, “hopefully you’re learning from this experience so that we never need repeat it.”
Then the lady took the still-crying and red-bottomed Jill over to a wall where numerous implements hung. She selected a wooden-handled strap and handed it to Jill. “You’ll need this for the second half of your correction, but you get a nice rest first,” she explained as she pointed Jill over to where other red-bottomed clients awaited the finale of their correction sessions.
Physically and psychologically, the wait was hell. She watched three sets of four clients take their place over the trestles and then howl and scream their way through their strappings. Her legs were already sore from having been on her feet over two hours, and naturally her bottom stung and throbbed. The staff actually solved one problem without even being asked. Mostly from the cold in the room, but partly from shock, Jill started to shiver. Her breasts and bottom cheeks jiggled fetchingly as the poor girl became colder and colder. One CA noticed, and brought her a small blanket to wrap around her shoulders. Quickly she warmed up. She wished that she could disappear into the blanket and make the strap and those damn trestles go away.
Finally it came Jill’s turn to be secured to a trestle. Except for the still-waiting “fives” Jill was among the last group to be led to the trestles. As she approached the stands, her eyes filled with fresh tears. Through a strange buzz in her ears, she was barely able to grasp the simple instructions. Shakily, she hung her strap on a handy hook on the side of the trestle, folded her blanked under her, stood on tip-toes, and laid herself across, putting her poor red bottom high in the air.
The lady in the next trestle sobbed loudly as the CA strapped her in, then it was Jill’s turn to be secured. With his hands at her hips, he firmly adjusted her into exactly the proper position. Then he fastened her waist down with a wide black Velcro strap. As he fastened her wrists, he spoke gently, “Your whipping will hurt like hell, but comparatively speaking it will be over quickly. You are severity “4", so towards the end we must bruise your bottom good so that you have a good reminder of this lesson for the next few days. That also will happen quickly. Make all the noise you wish, but otherwise just let it happen.”
Then he moved behind her and urged her to spread her knees wide. As he fastened her legs, Jill morosely realized that she was giving the man a gynecological view of her charms. Then he moved on to the next client to repeat the process.
Once strapped in, they made all four clients wait another excruciating five minutes before anything else happened. Then she heart steps approach. Jill had the #3 trestle, but there were only two CAs, so she had to listen as the first two clients received their strappings. Jill cried, cried in sympathy, and cried in fear for herself.
All too soon, she felt a presence next to her and somehow knew that someone was lifting the strap from the side of her trestle. She wasn’t brave, wasn’t the slightest bit noble. Like the others, she blubbered and begged and shrieked and futilely struggled as the strap bit into her bottom.
Besides being horribly painful, frightening, and humiliating, her subsequent beating was a terribly impersonal experience. She never even saw the person who did it, didn’t even know if it was a man or a woman. The truth was, after the first few excruciating kisses of the strap, she didn’t remember much at all. She must have screamed as the leather bit into her bottom, because her throat was sore for the next three days. Even her arms and legs were sore from struggling against the restraints. Naturally, sitting would be painful for days to come.
They gave her time to come to her senses, and then the Quality Control lady unstrapped her. As Jill stumbled to the Retraining Room, she caught a fleeting impression of someone setting up a tripod with a video camera.
The Retraining Room had a huge video screen mounted on the wall. Chairs were in rows classroom-style, but few clients seemed interested in sitting. There were two CAs in the room, who insisted that all pay attention to the propaganda film that was currently running. There was also a white-uniformed nurse.
As Jill watched the film, she heard sounds of strapping coming from the punishment room. She correctly guessed that the “fives” were finally getting their turn at the trestles. A few minutes later, the propaganda film suddenly ended, and the screen switched to a view from inside the punishment room. Four very red-bottomed ladies were fastened over the trestles, their preliminary strappings obviously done. Each of them had a big “5" scrawled over her backbone. Next to one of them stood a CA holding a rod. The rod was plastic, about the thickness of a curtain rod, with a wooden handle at one end. He showed it the client, who piteously begged to be let off.
The beating that ensued, in high-definition super-wide video, was terrible to watch. The next three weren’t any better. These weren’t British-style “six of the best,” but rather American-style thrashings.
Both the Quality Control person and the supervisor watched carefully as the thrashings were given in turn by four CAs. The slashing rod left cris-cross thin weals all over each client’s buttocks and upper thighs. The huge video screen displayed each thrashing in magnified high-definition perfection. A well-placed microphone picked up the “sssss-thwack” of each stroke and the anguished, piteous vocalizations of each client in turn. Exactly as intended, each client in the Retraining Room silently resolved to never earn a severity five punishment.
Finally it was over, and the four thrashed clients were half-carried into the Retraining Room to be checked by the nurse. Now only one client remained in the Punishment Room, the lady who had slapped the CA.
The camera continued to run. The supervisor went to the client, spoke quietly to her for a moment, and then led her out in front of the camera for a bit of theater. He waved over the CA who had been slapped. The man still had an angry red mark on his cheek.
“I believe this lady has something to say to you.” the supervisor announced. He took the lady’s hand and pulled her forward.
“I...I’m sorry I hit you sir. Thank you for not pressing charges.” She held out her strap and rod. “Please...please use these to p...punish...” Words failed her. She simply looked at the CA beseechingly.
In the professionally dispassionate manner typical of all CAs, the man betrayed neither anger towards the lady nor pleasure at this opportunity to “correct” her. But still, he needed no further encouragement! He led her to the nearest trestle, firmly urged her into position and began to fasten her restraints. As he ordered her to spread for the leg restraints. the camera playfully zoomed in on her sex. The observers in the Retraining Room were startled by the improbable image of a 3 foot-wide vagina on the video screen!
Without ceremony the CA picked up the strap, positioned himself, and began to whip the lady with measured, medium-force strokes. The camera zoomed back to catch the full effect of the action. Her already-red bottom quickly became livid. The poor lady screeched and fought against her restraints as the strap did its corporal work, but all she accomplished was to exhaust herself.
It only took about two minutes for him to thoroughly strap her from the top of her butcheeks to well down her thighs. That done, he looked at his supervisor and received a “thumbs up”.
Then came a short delay to allow the lady to return to her senses so that she could properly appreciate what was next. In the retraining room, the nurse took the opportunity to spray antibiotic on the bottoms of the four clients who had just been thrashed. The spray would neither reduce pain nor inflammation. Clients were meant to feel the full effects of their “correction”.
Back on the video screen, Jill saw the supervisor pick up the rod, swish it a few times in front of the lady’s face, and then hand it to the waiting CA. The poor lady sobbed and begged, but nobody took any notice. The thrashing that followed was a carbon copy of those that had just been delivered to the other four clients who had been sentenced to a severity five correction. Even though she was “maxed out” from watching and experiencing so much punishment over the last two hours, Jill couldn’t tear her eyes away from the spectacle of the lady’s bottom being savaged so.
Finally it was over. The clients were allowed into the dormitory where they made their own beds. Jill spent a miserable night face- down, her hot bottom exposed to the cool air.
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They all were released the following morning. Standing in a gaggle of other clients at the bus stop, Jill felt sad and lonely. Overnight Correction was intended to not interfere with work, so it was never considered an excuse for absence from work. Therefore it would be evening before she could see Adam.
Then she heard someone calling her name. At first she was afraid it was someone from the correction center, but then she recognized the voice over the street’s din. It was Adam! Oblivious, they hugged furiously. It was a crazy expense, but Adam had hired a cab to take Jill to work. Soon they were off.
The taxicab took a detour. Jill opened her mouth to protest, but Adam covered it with his, They turned into a secluded park. Obviously prearranged, the driver opened his door car and wandered away.
“We don’t have much time,” Adam said, “but we have two important things to do.”
Before she could voice a question, he had pulled her across his lap, raised her skirt, and began applying salve to her pantyless bottom. Jill cooed with relief and sudden arousal. He slipped a finger into her dampness. Adam was having his own arousal problems, but time was short. He had great plans for Jill’s bottom, plans with no discernible end. But right now time was short: “Sorry we don’t have time for that right now.” he explained, “But there is one more bit of business.”
He handed Jill a tiny box. She opened it to find a ring. “Well Jill? Will you marry me?”
The surprise was complete. Tears sprouted from her eyes when his meaning sank into her addled brain. She flung her arms around his neck and bruised their lips with her wordless answer.
Adam got Jill to work barely on time. Everybody knew where she had spend the night, and why she preferred to work standing up that day. But nobody could figure out how she could be so damn happy after an ordeal like Overnight Correction.
© Guyspencer 2012
posted by guy at 8:02 PM
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