Seven Scarlet Tales (19 page)

‘In the meantime,’ said Richard, and glasses clinked again, ‘here’s to play parties.’

‘Abso-bloody-lutely,’ said Blake, and they all laughed.

‘Well, then,’ said Richard, after a pause. ‘I can see a bottom not too far away whose impressive colour is beginning to fade. Better do something about that.’

‘Can’t wait to see what she makes of the cane,’ said Blake with bloodthirsty enthusiasm.

Emma clenched her buttocks, then relaxed them, remembering that clenching was not allowed. But surely prisoner thirty nine would clench as a matter of course?

The gluteal muscles came back into play.

She heard Richard’s footsteps across the wooden floorboards, then the deathly swish of the cane, making her twitch and squeal. But it didn’t land on her. He had done it merely for effect.

‘This is the most feared of our implements, thirty nine,’ said Richard softly.

Emma saw the slender rattan glide in front of her face, then it was held there, vibrating slightly, it seemed. Or perhaps Richard’s hand was shaking.

‘Take a good look,’ he said. ‘Does it look cruel?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘That’s because it is. It will be like nothing you have ever felt before, and its effects will linger. It’s a most effective reminder. How many strokes, Governor?’

Allyson laughed.

‘We usually start with six,’ she said. ‘But I’m going to make it ten for this one. She’s a tough nut to crack.’

‘Ten it is.’

Emma groaned and tried to prepare her body for the coming onslaught.

She knew she could take ten strokes – she’d taken many more in the past – but her role was beginning to invade her
headspace, tricking her into thinking she couldn’t possibly cope.

Richard tapped the cane lightly across her bottom then rested it there for a moment, sizing up his stroke.

She shivered.

He pulled it away and let it whoosh back down, a perfect line, bearable at first then flowering into intense, white heat that made her hiss and catch her breath.

‘What do you think, thirty nine?’ asked Allyson from the back of the room. ‘Will ten be enough?’

‘Please, ma’am,’ she gasped. ‘Please don’t!’

‘Regrets, she’s got a few,’ said her unsympathetic lover.

The men laughed.

‘You deserve it, thirty nine,’ continued Allyson. ‘Every stroke and more. And you needn’t think you won’t be getting caned again this weekend. You’re going to learn some respect. I’m going to personally make sure of it.’

Richard was one of Emma’s favourite caners and he didn’t let her down, scoring a work of welted art across her poor buttocks. But prisoner thirty nine was not so appreciative of his skills, yelling until she was hoarse, putting her hands over her bottom so that Blake had to come and hold on to them, writhing like fury in her bonds.

Emma swam and floated in the sharp, sizzling sting while thirty nine begged for mercy and choked on her tears. Had she split into two? It was almost as if she had. The cane had sliced her apart, giving half of her to pleasure and the other to pain.

Dimly, somewhere around the eighth stroke, her thirty nine self realised that the ordeal was almost over and clung to that knowledge like a life raft.

But the Governor had said there would be more to come.

Fresh tears joined those already blurring her eyes. She was so rarely able to cry during scenes that this seemed like a victory. Yes, role-play was the way to do it. It allowed her to release her emotions in a way that cool, controlled Emma somehow couldn’t. This had been a brilliant idea. She had known it would work and she was right.

The last two strokes were like marks of honour, the crowning achievement of an endurance test. Emma gave herself up to her sobs, amazed by them, wanting to see where they might lead her.

‘That’s good, thirty nine, that’s very good,’ said Richard, softly, crouching in front of her, cane still in hand. ‘You’re feeling sorry, I can see. You’re ready to change. Aren’t you?’

She nodded, and let out some more strange noises.

‘Help her up,’ said Allyson.

Come over to me. Come to me. Take me in your arms and tell me everything’s all right and I’m forgiven.

But Allyson stayed where she was.

It was Richard and Blake who unbuckled the straps, then took one each of her upper arms and lifted her gently to her feet.

‘Put her in the corner,’ said Allyson. ‘I’m going to sort out some food.’

She disappeared into the kitchen without even catching Emma’s eye.

Emma’s legs trembled so much that she could hardly stand in place. She leant her forehead against the wall and let it support her. Richard placed her arms behind her back, folded above her bottom, which was to remain on view.

It was probably against regulations but he didn’t seem
able to resist brushing his fingertips over the ridges he had placed on her skin. His voice was low, and a little thick, when he said, ‘Stay there until you’re ordered otherwise.’

She stood still, listening to the sounds coming from the kitchen. Blake went in to help and the buzz of their conversation was, tantalisingly, too quiet to decipher.

Richard sat quietly, his presence only occasionally given away by little jingles from his iPad every now and again. She knew he was looking at her striped bottom. She wished she could see it herself.

She had stopped sobbing now, but couldn’t seem to help sniffing rather a lot. Surely he could offer her a tissue? A runny nose seemed a humiliation too far, after everything else.

Sometime after she had gone to the corner – it could have been ten minutes or half an hour – she heard the sound of a car engine outside.

The armchair creaked. Richard must have stood up.

‘Al, they’re here,’ he called, then a burst of colder air came in, soothing Emma’s bottom just a little.

She heard other voices, greetings, kisses.

The front door shut and Richard said, ‘Right, all normal service is suspended – as from now you are visiting Facility Fifty One. Don’t look so spooked, Lucy. You’ve seen a caned bottom before.’

‘Yeah, just. Ouch.’

The men laughed, but they soon remembered what they were here for.

‘Miss Ward, this is prisoner thirty nine. Dr Sherburn has brought you here in the hope that she will be an example to you. Is that right, Doctor?’

‘Quite right,’ said Rob, with whom Emma was not familiar.

‘You see her now recovering from her introductory punishment. It’s the first of many – an acclimatisation. By the time she leaves this place, she will be extremely penitent and vowing never to return.’

‘I’m sure,’ said Lucy.

‘Ah, great timing.’ Allyson was back in the room, and Emma could smell what she was bringing with her. Spaghetti bolognese, she thought. Her stomach rumbled. God, she was hungry.

‘Richard, could you get that spanking bench out of the way, we’re going to need to extend the table.’

Richard obeyed Allyson’s command quickly. Emma heard the straps jingle and the stepstool contraption creaking back into its smallest configuration.

Plates, cups, knives, forks, serving bowls being laid down on placemats.

She wanted to ask permission to come to the table, but nobody mentioned her or spoke to her. Was she supposed to stay here while they ate? Could they really be that cruel?

‘Good, take a seat, everyone,’ said Allyson. ‘How was your journey?’

Emma felt a sickening wave of dismay wash over her, as knives and forks were taken up, and Rob and Lucy talked boringly about traffic and the weather.

She really was excluded from the meal. But they couldn’t let her starve, surely?

‘What do you think of the view in here?’ asked Allyson, slyly, after Lucy had raved about the mountains, and valleys, and winding roads.

‘Very pleasing,’ said Rob. ‘Great work with the cane. I bet that was Richard’s hand.’ Lucy just coughed and giggled.

‘Got it in one,’ said Blake. ‘I’m going to ask him to give me lessons.’

‘Perhaps you could practise on our Lucy,’ said Richard.

‘Perhaps not!’ This, of course, from Lucy.

‘Don’t forget what you’re here for,’ Rob warned her. ‘Lessons for you, too. If you can’t behave, you might find yourself side by side with the prisoner.’

‘Doesn’t she get food?’ asked Lucy.

Emma could have kissed her. Here was the question she wanted answered.

‘Of course,’ said Allyson. ‘But eating good food at the table is a privilege she has lost for the time being. When we’ve finished, she’ll get a bowl of porridge to eat kneeling on the floor. I doubt she’d want to sit down, anyway.’

‘I suppose not.’

Porridge! Emma tried to block out the vision she had of a plate piled high with spaghetti and sauce, topped with Parmesan, surrounded with salad, a plate of garlic bread at the side. Not tonight.

‘What did she do?’ asked Lucy.

‘Disgraceful behaviour,’ said Richard with relish. ‘Public lewdness with a group of strangers. Both men and women.’

‘Oh, I say.’ Lucy sounded shocked.

‘Don’t pretend you’re any better than her,’ Rob rebuked her. ‘You know I have to keep your whorish ways in check. That’s why we’re here.’

‘When she was caught and arrested,’ said Allyson, stridently, ‘she had one man’s cock in her pussy, another up her arse and she was licking a woman’s clit. She was in the cloakroom of a public nightclub and customers were coming and going the whole time. Though, of course, a lot of them stopped to watch. Most of them had already felt her up on
the dancefloor. That was prisoner thirty nine’s idea of a good night out. Every week.’

Emma swallowed hard. Allyson was teasing her, turning her on.

She had been warned before the weekend began: ‘You’ll get no orgasms, my girl.’

Please don’t turn me on. I’m wet enough already with the throb of the cane and the sensitivity of my hot, stretched skin. I can’t take much more.

Now she was glad of the hunger, concentrating on it instead of listening to Allyson’s inflammatory words, which she tuned out as best she could, catching snatches here and there.

‘… wide open … sucking her nipples … she came three times in a row …’

The words became blank, empty of meaning, while she thought about food, every kind of food she had ever eaten.

Finally, they finished their meal and Allyson went into the kitchen for the ceremonial bowl of porridge.

She was made to kneel and eat it from the floor, spooning it into her mouth in great, greedy gulps. It was cold, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care that everyone watched her, laughing or tutting over her table manners. She didn’t care about anything now, except being prisoner thirty nine and getting Allyson alone.

‘It’s time you were in bed, thirty nine,’ said Allyson, taking the empty bowl from under her nose. ‘Early nights for you. I’ll take her up. Rich, is there another bottle in the fridge?’

Emma’s upper arm was braceleted with Allyson’s fingers, hauling her to her feet and nudging her to the stairs.

‘Go and brush your teeth,’ ordered Allyson. ‘Then you can get your nightshirt on.’

The nightshirt didn’t cover her bottom. It was made of some rough kind of grey flannel that rubbed her nipples. Allyson commented on how hard they were, watching her change.

She laughed, a little callously, then her voice altered.

‘This is good for you, yeah, babe?’

Emma nodded, but she could feel her emotions welling at the abrupt kindness in her lover’s tone.

‘But, just a hug would be nice.’

‘Aww, come here, darling.’

The women embraced, long and deep, Emma shedding a few tears on Allyson’s smart, silk shirtsleeve.

‘So proud of you, babe, so proud,’ whispered Allyson. ‘You’re special, you know that?’

‘I love you,’ said Emma. ‘Oh God, look at your shirt.’

Allyson tutted and pretended to frown.

‘Naughty girl,’ she said, patting the wet patch. ‘I won’t spank you for it, though. Not right now.’

‘You can if you like.’

Allyson kissed her, cupping her wet cheek in one hand.

‘You’d better get some sleep,’ she said. ‘You’re going to need it. Tomorrow you’re back to being thirty nine.’

‘How do you know those other guys?’

‘Blake? He’s my cousin.’

‘He’s a paramedic?’

Allyson laughed. ‘Yep. But don’t worry. I’m not planning on having to use his professional services this weekend. I’ll take care of you, babe.’

‘What about Rob?’

‘Him I don’t know. But I intend to find out more. I’ll let you know. Sweet dreams, my darling little slut. Wait till this is all over and I’ll give you the seeing-to of your life.’

Emma, now face down on the bed, moaned with happy anticipation. The blankets were scratchy and the mattress thin, but she could have slept in a skip. A good whipping always did that for her.

‘Don’t make me think about sex,’ she begged, with a yawn.

‘No, best not,’ Allyson agreed. ‘Don’t you dare touch yourself either.’

She bent and kissed the top of Emma’s head.

‘Night night, sleep tight, make sure the bugs don’t bite. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.’

‘I haven’t seen you around. On the scene, so to speak.’

Allyson offered the wine bottle to Rob, who took it and poured himself another glass.

He then settled his arm around Lucy, re-establishing the link that led from him to her to Richard, on the sofa, and smiled at his interlocutor.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ve never been a scene kind of person.’

‘How do you know if you haven’t tried it?’ Allyson’s challenge was friendly enough but her eyes were hard. Rob had been told she could be difficult if you rubbed her up the wrong way. ‘You should come to the club. Meet some of the girls.’

‘Well, I’m trying it now, I guess,’ he said. ‘And I’m liking it so far. I wish I hadn’t missed the show.’

‘Perhaps we could do a repeat performance with Lucy?’ suggested Allyson, slyly.

This prompted a squeak of alarm from the submissive in the room, who clung to Richard and curled into a defensive ball.

‘I’m not sure she’s ready for that,’ said Richard.

‘Ah, proper knight in shining armour, you are, Rich.
The gentleman sadist. Always liked that about you. Anyway, shouldn’t bad girls be in bed? If we’re doing this by the book.’