by Chuck Bruder
Dr. Larry Clive pulled up to the front gate of the Eastern Penitentiary for Women, otherwise known as 'The Prison Farm' from its prime function in the early days. The drive through the pastoral countryside and wooded hills had soothed the tension he was feeling about taking on a new assignment. The look and feel of the grounds, albeit surrounded by a double, ten-foot high fence with razor wire along the top, looked much less oppressive than the stone-walled fortress, where he had worked for almost five years in the western part of the state.
Clive, as he was known, presented his papers and identification to the guard in the concrete entrance building. The first set of gates opened. He drove in. They closed behind him. The second set of gates opened. He drove through up the tree-lined road toward the administration building. He could see the second set of gates closing in his rear view mirror.
The whole setting looked like a college campus with trees and lawns, well kept. But this was no college. About a quarter of a mile up the road he saw the first two female prisoners, young women in prison shifts, with two burly male guards each carrying a riding crop. One of the women looked like she had been crying. She was biting her lower lip and rubbed one of her buttocks through her dress.
It was clear that the incident with the Warden Jenkins out west, in which he had been caught on tape on the verge of raping a woman he had just punished, had not persuaded the minds of the legislators to revise or eliminate the program of strict punishment of female prisoners for breaches of discipline. It was thought that women, especially, could be reformed this way.
Then again, that was why he had a job here; he was being assigned to monitor that very program, among other things. He would head up the counseling staff, whose job was to compliment the discipline program with a nurturing process to help the women to turn their lives around. He got the job because apart from his experience out west, his doctoral dissertation had been on the topic of using Behavioral Modification Therapy to rehabilitate female prisoners. In his capacity at the western facility he was not part of the disciplinary staff, but on occasion was required to administer spankings. When he started the job, he was not much inclined to enjoy that part of the job, but in time, after seeing many women punished, he found himself somewhat turned on a bit by the whole ritual… although he'd never admit it to anyone. By the same token, he'd never seek out the opportunity to punish.
A little further up the road he noticed a squad of female prisoners, ten or so, running in formation. He was impressed. The place had a good feel to it. As a resident psychologist, he would be housed in a staff building on the grounds. He'd have his own apartment in one of the old brick Victorian-style buildings. His office would be nearby in a separate building not far from the Administration Center.
Petite and pretty, dark-eyed Alice Wilkes had been at the Farm for several weeks. She had learned a lot about the place in that time. She too had been transferred from the western facility to serve out the remainder of her two year sentence.
During the first week Alice was taken with other new prisoners on a tour of the Farm. The original penal facility had expanded over the years to include factories, schools, churches, dorms and recreational facilities. It now contained over 5000 inmates. She soon learned that there was an enforced exercise program and dietary regime. Women who came in overweight were made to lose their surplus fat. It was a good thing. The figures and muscularity of the inmates was remarkable. Even the older chicks looked hot.
Work uniforms were mixed-slacks or overalls, and blouses or tee-shirts for outside on the grounds or at the farm and factory work. Short prison shifts were worn for other jobs, like the library and dining hall. The shifts were standard for those taking classes as well. Women had to wear their hair short, or in a pony tail. Braids or pigtails were fine for the late-teen girls in the reformatory facilities.
Alice found out that corporal punishment was alive and well at the Farm. There was a 'punishment building' with eight punishment rooms. She heard that informal punishment could be dispensed, just about anywhere, but that the serious offenses entailed being taken there. Alice quickly found herself imagining about what went on inside. She wanted to see what it looked like, but that would have to wait.
She also heard about the barn, where offenders working in the fields were often taken for a session with a strap. Next to it was the woodshed, where inmates were taken for extreme punishment sessions with a whip or birch rods.
As to the girls' reformatory, the occupants were held strictly accountable for their behavior. It was said that the paddle was the prime implement of correction.
She was also told that the pastors from the various denominations had been empowered to administer punishments in the basements of the various churches that could be found around the grounds. Their role was to discipline inmates mainly for spiritual and moral sins. She was astounded to learn that several catholic priests remained on duty for confessions and imposed penance. The young women who came in for confession could receive a skirt-up, underpants-down bare bottom spanking by hand or with hairbrush over the priest's lap, right in the sanctuary itself. On the other hand, for more serious sins, they would be taken to the basement for a serious penance session and atonement at the hands of those priests or the Christian brothers hired to do only that.
Alice found herself associating her feelings about the farm in the same way she did with the 'Big Daddy' prison strap. It filled her with a sense of dread, but it also fascinated her. She dwelled more on the fascination side of things.
More than anything, Alice secretly hoped she would be able to witness punishments first hand, not so much her own, but of the other women and girls that lived there. With two years remaining in her sentence, she was sure she'd have the chance.
Just as in her fantasies, she wanted to see these lovely fit women and girls taken to task, to see them bound in some way, or pulled across a lap, to see clothes removed and buttocks bared, and to see them writhing in place, as big men or fit female guards beat their sexy bottoms hard with implements. She wanted to see them spanked until they cried. She wanted to see their red faces, tears streaming down, crying out. She wanted to see their rear cheeks red, streaked and welted, and maybe bruised. She wanted to see them writhing and undulating during the punishment, as though they were in the throes of coitus. She wanted to see the sadistic arousal of the male spankers - their erections clearly outlined through their trousers as the punishment progressed.
Thinking about all that made her pussy feel on fire. It was puffy and moist as she played with herself, as scenes of tortured backsides and writhing women passed through her mind. She had become a true pervert, probably because of all the spankings she had endured at the other prison.
What would Dr. Clive have said about that? she wondered.
Dr. Clive sat in the orientation room with the twelve or so other new personnel. He was wearing his traditional long, white clinical lab coat and new name tag.
They had just seen a two-hour slide presentation and had come back from a break. Stepping up to the podium was a woman of about 45 with dark eyes and hair. She wore the uniform of the associate warden: wool slacks and jacket, with buttons and epaulets on the shoulders.
"I am Margaret Marks, Head Disciplinarian here at the Farm. The next session will entail a tutorial on administering corporal punishment." She turned to Dr. Clive. "Larry, you have some experience with punishment spankings. I'd like you to come up here and sit on the chair on my right."
Clive flushed. He wondered what she was up to.
"Please come." He did. "Now," she continued. "We have selected a prisoner who is due for punishment to come in here shortly. The good doctor will, as part of his duties, show you how to administer a hard spanking." Margaret signaled the guard to open the door. Two other guards escorted a lovely young woman with dark curly hair toward the stage.
Clive gasped. It was Alice!
Their eyes met. She stared at him with wonder. It was all she could do to not run up to him and to say how much she had missed him.
It seems that the remaining part of the sentence of punishment that Alice had incurred for her part in an escape attempt and destruction of prison property would now be administered.
"Dr. Clive, I do believe you know the prisoner," Margaret said. "She has the remainder of punishment that had not been carried out before her transfer. But you know the details... For the rest of you, Alice is to receive 150 hard ones today. This is to complete the sentence of punishment from her stay at Western. The severity will be substantially reduced - no prison strap. She will get 50 by hand, 50 by hairbrush and 50 by riding crop - all over the lap of Dr. Clive."
The guards brought the handcuffed woman of twenty years over toward Clive. He stood and looked at her. She was a lovely as ever - cute as a button.
"Alright, Clive. Don't be shy. Sit again and pull her over your lap."
"I can't do this. She was my patient."
"Was... Not at the moment. She is a prisoner, who is to be punished. You will help me by showing us how it is done. You understand, Doctor?"
Clive looked at her, then Alice. Alice whispered under her breath. "Do it."
"What was that, Alice?" Margaret asked.
"Nothing, Ma'am."
"Clive, you will give Alice fifty hard swats with your hand. Sit and pull her across your lap."
Clive sat slowly. He took her by the wrist and pulled her down. She draped herself over his thighs.
"Now gather up her shift to above her waist. Notice gentlemen that you should be lecturing the miscreant at this point. Like, 'Alice, you really deserve this. You had better learn your lesson because your misbehavior will not be tolerated at the Farm'. Prepare her, Doctor. Take up her dress."
Clive raised up the thin material. Alice was wearing tight-fitting white cotton bikini panties.
"Now begin the spanking; do it slowly at first but then faster and harder. I want you to alternate the smacks from one buttock to the other. I will keep count and tell you when to stop. Begin!"
Clive raised his hand and brought it crisply down. Alice tensed her butt.
"Good, Clive," Margaret said.
He spanked the other cheek. SMACK.
Alice made a little noise.
SMACK. SMACK.
Clive picked up the pace, smacking the pert bottom. He found that he could restrain her easily enough. He had seen enough spankings and knew the best ways to handle a prisoner.
Alice squirmed about and lunged up against his right thigh. Little yelps escaped her lips, as he spanked her, alternating the spanks on her buttocks.
Clive went into a trance of sorts as he blistered her butt with her hand. On and on he spanked her cute butt, hard. In the background he could hear her wailing and crying out.
"Enough, Clive!" Margaret's voice interrupted his reverie.
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.