I would like to thank the volunteer editor Kenjisato, for his time and skill in editing this story
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The New Republic
Justice was quick in the Republic of Siegel. Matthew Crowley reflected on this, as he watched a line of prisoners being marched towards the courthouse.
As they trudged up the steps, a massive statue of Marcus Siegel, the founder of the Republic, looked down at them, a grim expression etched into his stone face. The prisoners were immigrants, Marcus suspected, and recent ones at that. Citizens of the Republic or even long-term residents would have known better than to participate in yesterday’s protest turned riot.
He looked at the line of prisoners; they were all women, of course. Probably refugees from the disaster caused by the latest attempt to establish a national government in London. It had been tried repeatedly over the last eight years, every time collapsing into a mass of competing factions fighting over limited resources, with disorder, chaos, and occasional famine resulting.
It had been eight years since the last true British Government had finally collapsed. It had tried and failed to lead the country through the series of calamities that followed Scarlet Death, a worldwide pandemic that had killed an estimated sixty percent of the world’s population.
The Scarlet Death was still not fully understood; he had heard it described as being similar to hemophilia. It had appeared and burned itself out in a vicious eighteen-month cycle. Unlike other diseases, however, it had not killed entirely without distinction. While most young, healthy females were immune, every male got it, and nearly four in five died, particularly older men.
Matthew, himself, had suffered through two weeks of agony, as his body hemorrhaged and bled. He had caught it early on, a young soldier who had only been in his regiment for just a few weeks. He had emerged on the other side to discover that everyone else in his regiment had likewise gotten it. They had been sealed off in their barracks to die, lacking even basic care, resulting in an even higher death rate.
Recovered but still weak, he had emerged with a handful of others from the graveyard that was his barracks, to be put to work by a government that was already much changed.
He had been angry at his treatment, and the deaths of his comrades. Angrier still, when the government that had abandoned them, then seemed determined to exploit them, using them to enact policies that seemed both divisive, and to make little sense. The anger built up inside him, and the small number of surviving male soldiers, but through the rage, the one thing he and his comrades began to focus on, was that the clique of people giving them orders–were all women. Then Marcus Siegel had appeared, and he had changed everything.
He looked up at Marcus’s statue and sighed–those were hard years, and Marcus had been a hard man.
More vans pulled up and started to unload additional women. Looking at the scene, he wondered if this was the shape of things to come.
There were currently eighteen women for every man in the Republic; immigration was strictly regulated by the Republic, at least for men. However, the same laws that denied women full civil rights within Republic territory, also meant that the immigration restrictions didn’t apply to them. Any woman could enter Republic territory one time, and she could leave at any time; however, she could not return without special dispensation.
Matthew looked at the line of women, as they traipsed dejectedly through the door of the courthouse. Even now, these women could leave, they could turn to a guard, and ask to be shown to the border. However, he knew that any of those women that had been outside the Republic’s borders in the last few years, was unlikely to exercise that right.
It was made worse by factories and employers who wanted cheap labor. The whole system was open to exploitation and the Senate, used to passing legislation to control women, had only grudgingly started to enact laws to protect them. Matthew knew, however, that the fundamental problem would not be solved; there was no chance that the Senate, or the citizenry, would ever allow male immigration that might dilute the small pool of voting citizens. A return to full civil rights for women wasn’t even considered.
As he watched the female Auxiliaries drag prisoners from the van, he thought back to the arguments over the creation of such a force. The recruitment of a female security force had been resisted for years, but it was inevitable. There simply weren’t the men to do it. Even the men that they did send him, were the dregs of their units. Marcus commanded the security forces for an entire district; yet, he was becoming more and more reliant on women to exert the state’s authority.
There had been plenty of applicants for the new force, that quickly gained a reputation for viciousness. Matthew had thought that a force consisting of women would be sympathetic to other women. That they had inadvertently created a force that was far more abusive to the female population of Siegal, than the regular police ever had been, was still a source of consternation for many people.
“Excuse me, sir!” a female voice said, behind him. He turned around to see a grey-clad female Security Auxiliary.
She curtsied neatly, as Auxiliaries did in lieu of a salute. “Ms Baker asks if she should start to bring the rest of the prisoners in.”
He looked at her sternly; he looked at her nameplate–Auxiliary third class Smith. “AC3 Smith, why are you out of uniform.”
She hesitated and looked down; she was wearing trousers. “Ahem. Ms Baker said that we should…”
“Ms Baker ordered you to violate Ministry regulations and wear men’s trousers?” he questioned, his anger growing but not for the reason Smith thought. “When did she order you to do that?”
Smith looked at him, she didn’t look stupid and seemed to appreciate she needed to choose her words carefully. “Yesterday, before–”
“Before the protests.” he said, cutting her off. That vicious bitch had given the order before sending out her women to police what was initially a lawful protest. She had expected trouble, or rather intended to start it.
“Tell Senior Auxiliary Baker that she and her section commanders are to make their way immediately to the courthouse guard room, and to wait for me there.” With a wave of the hand, he dismissed her. Smith curtsied quickly and double-timed it to find Baker.
The organisers of the protest had gone through every hurdle to secure permission, prior to the march. Even though none of them were citizens, they still had some rights and one of which was the right to assemble and make their grievances known to the authorities, provided it was lawful and ‘respectful’. There were many in the Senate that remembered the days of the old government, when protests were declared violent. The police and army being ordered to use live ammunition to disperse them. The Republic was a strict, and sometimes brutal, society, but it was one that had laws.
He had made it clear to Baker, that her job was to ensure that the protest was peaceful; instead, she had behaved with her characteristic viciousness and provoked a riot. He kicked himself for not being there himself. He turned around and shouted for a passing Auxiliarie to find Captain Howard, the officer that was supposedly in operational command.
As he walked to the courthouse, he came across a line of prisoners, some looked the worse for wear, but all were well dressed, in compliance with the Republic’s strict dress codes. All wore dresses that came to below their knees, their shoulders were covered; these were hardly radical feminist agitators coming to undermine the Republic from within.
Some of the group of prisoners looked to be limping. He ordered them to stop. As the group of eight women turned to face him, some immediately curtsied. The other women took a moment and then followed their example, performing the act with various degrees of success.
He looked at the group, “Turn around, and lift your skirts above your hips,” he ordered.
Again, several of the women immediately complied, others hesitated, and had to be prompted by their friends. One woman started to cry. An Auxiliary stepped up to the woman, baton in hand. Matthew waved her away.
As the other women raised their skirts, he saw two weren’t wearing knickers, and had savage red welts up and down their thighs and arse. Matthew felt a stab of anger. He ordered them to lower them. He turned to the crying woman, who hadn’t been able to lift her skirt, he knew she would have similar welts.
“I’m sorry…” she said, sobbing, “they ripped my…”
Matthew realised that the Auxiliaries had ripped the women’s knickers off prior to caning them. “Where did they do it?” he asked her.
“In the square,” a woman said, one of the two that had been able to show her welts. Matthew turned to face her. She was blonde, in her mid-thirties, and well spoken.
“And you are?” Matthew asked.
“Sophie Cole,” she replied. “After they arrested us, they began by picking women at random to cane.” She carried on with a precise tone in her voice, “I protested that they couldn’t cane us without an officer present, and without a master-at-arms to administer it; their response was to give me a dozen strokes.”
Matthew nodded his head. “That’s true,” he said. “You’re familiar with the Republic’s laws?” he asked.
“I had a spare morning to read them,” she said tersely. “We had a permit from the Ministry of the Interior for the protest,” she said. “We obeyed every instruction, and they just started beating us unprovoked.”
“What did you and your friends do, after they started beating you?” Matthew asked.
She hesitated for a moment. Matthew could tell that she understood that what she said could get all of them in even more trouble.
“All of us took whatever action we could, to try and protect ourselves,” she said, carefully.
“You mean you assaulted the security force,” Matthew said. “You assaulted uniformed members of the Security Services.”
“There was no intent to cause any harm or obstruction,” she said. “Instinctively flinching when someone is beating you with a baton, is not assault.”
Matthew looked at her. “There are three Auxiliaries in hospital with concussions or broken bones,” he said, “that’s not the result of someone flinching.”
“It was dark. They were lashing out in all directions with their batons.”
“So, you’re saying they hit each other,” Matthew said, trying not to smile. “Is that what you’re going to say in front of the court?” he asked
“I haven’t argued in a court in nearly 8 years,” she said, in what Matthew thought was a slightly sad tone. “I don’t know what I’ll say. Will I be given the opportunity to speak?”
Matthew nodded. “If you wish. However, if you plead not guilty, and are then convicted, the sentence will be harsher.” He wanted to talk with his woman further, but he felt it was inappropriate. “Thank you for your time, Ms,” he said, and turned to walk away.
“They’re not members of the Security Services!” her voice shouted behind him.
He turned back to her. “Excuse me?” he said. He could see she was breathing hard, almost exhilarated.
“You said we assaulted uniformed members of the Security Services. That’s not true!”
Matthew could see they were starting to attract a crowd; Captain Howard had appeared, as well as the Court deputies looking to take what was then the last batch of prisoners into custody. He could not resist, though. “How so?” he asked.
“Auxiliaries are women,” she said, obviously trying to remain calm. “They hold no warrant or commission. Yes, they swore an oath, but that oath was never entered into the Senate record. They can’t be members of the Security Services.”
Matthew thought for a moment. “So you can assault a female employee of the Interior Ministry, with impunity?” he asked, in response. “That’s your argument?”
“No. If I assault a female clerk that works for the ministry, I’m assaulting a servant of the ministry, but Auxiliaries are not employees of the ministry, they’re a separate body raised by a line item in the budget. The Senate has given them no statutory basis for existing.” She paused, searching for an example in her head. “They’re funded in the same way that someone who’s mentally deficient, gets a stipend from the state.”
Matthew saw the Auxiliaries around her start to bristle. He tried to suppress a smile. “It’s illegal to assault mentally deficient people, as well.”
“Not if they’re trying to attack me and disrupt a lawful gathering,” she said, simply. “We had a legal basis for being on that street; the Auxiliaries did not.”
“I signed a written order for them to be on that street,” Matthew said.
Captain Joe Howard, who had been watching the exchange, spoke up. “What about the non-citizen troops we employ?” he asked. “There are whole regiments in the Army that are non-citizens, their officers don’t hold commissions.”
“They’re men,” she said, simply “and they’re not allowed within the Republics borders.”
Howard shrugged in response. “Look,” he said, “you’re going in front of Judge Hopkins. It’s going to be twenty-one days and eighteen strokes all around.” He looked at her, “But, he can do worse; he can put a blue notice on you. Do you know what that is?”
“Yes,” she said. And it was clear she did.
Republic law was full of eccentric touches. The same laws that denied women various civil rights, such as jury trials, also meant that there were limits to what punishments a court could administer to a woman, such as, maximum confinement of fifty-six days in a 180-day period. There were twenty-seven capital offenses in the Republic Criminal Code, and none of them could be applied to a woman.
This had quickly become a problem, after the first female murderer made her appearance and was dutifully released.
Then there were the various insurgencies and terrorist campaigns often waged by female fighters. The Senate had found various ways of countering these threats, without violating the letter of the law, but still some legal changes were needed.
Marcus Siegal had been unwilling to change the fundamentals of Republic law, so they had doubled down on the female-control acts, adding two additional laws. One was the legalisation of reasonable ‘chastisement’, usually taking the form of caning. The second was an amendment to the criminal record law. Under Republic law, a crime was expunged once the sentence was served. This had become a sacred tenet because many men in the Republic had been victims of a blacklisting under the old government, which it had applied against their enemies; keeping them unemployed, lacking bank accounts, and the ability to function in society.
The Republic could not deport a woman, but they also did not have to sentence her for a crime. Instead, they could issue a ‘blue notice’, leaving her in a perpetual state of legal limbo–she was a criminal, and would remain one because she could never complete her sentence. She would be denied employment, bank accounts, housing, and rendered destitute.
The Chastisement Act had passed without much fuss, but the ‘blue notice’ caused an uproar, and it was only passed by creating a further legal fiction–that it was cancelled, by a suspect making a plea directly to the Senate, which a woman could never do.
It was rarely employed, and despite what Jones said, he doubted that it would be employed. Most likely, the judge would give her the full fifty-six days, and as many strokes as a doctor would allow.
Matthew looked at his watch. “Court begins in a little under two hours.” He looked at his watch again. “Go with the deputies,” he said, “if you want to argue this, I’ll see you go in front of the Judge first.” He saw the fear in her eyes. “Hopkins used to be a barrister.” he said, “After he kept defending people during the purge, he got added to the lists himself.”
She looked at him. She looked sad again. “What happened was wrong,” she said.
“Yes, it was,” he said. “Though, I imagine it was a difficult time for a young lawyer starting out.”
She looked genuinely ashamed, and Matthew wondered what her role was during the purge. “Well,” he said, “we didn’t get our day in court, but let’s see if we can get you yours.”
He saw the woman who hadn’t been able to raise her skirt still looking terrified, but obviously wanting to say something. He guessed what it was. He turned to the senior Deputy, a lean grizzled man in his forties.
“Deputy,” he said, “could you please give my compliments to the court Sheriff, and inform him that all of the prisoners were properly dressed when we took them into our custody. If some are lacking underwear, there’s no need for any punishment.”
He saw a look of gratitude pass over the poor woman’s face, and he felt a twinge of sorrow about this whole mess.
The Deputy gave the Auxiliaries a look and replied that he would.
“And ask him if he could send a master-at-arms to join me in the guard room, with his cane, if he pleases.” The Deputy looked interested “I’m a master-at-arms, sir, I’ll be there presently.”
He thanked the Deputy and let him take the prisoners away. He dismissed the Auxiliaries present, who seemed to be milling around aimlessly, most likely because their leadership was waiting in the guard room.
He let the prisoners get a suitable distance, before he rounded on Howard. “I am sick of your fuck-ups, Joe,” he said, more exasperated; he wasn’t even able to get angry anymore. “You know how close we are to a full-scale war in the border territories, and this is what we’re spending our time on?”
“You’re right, sir,” he said. “It’s my fault. I should have been there, and I’ll send a report to the Senate stating that.”
Matthew waved his hand. “No. Look, I know you don’t want to do this job, but you are the Commander of the Auxiliaries–you need to keep them in line. Instead, you leave them to their own devices and this is what happens.”
“I’ll get a grip of them, starting today,” he said.
“You see what they did to those women?” Matthew said.
“I’ll deal with it!” Joe said.
Matthew looked at his watch. “Well, let’s make a start on that now, shall we.”
Captain Joe Howard said nothing. He had known Matthew from their time in the old British Army. They had both joined the Mutiny that Marcus Siegal had started, after the old government had attempted to use nuclear weapons. They had fought on through the foundation of the Republic; later, they had served in the brutal wars in Oxford and the west country, even in France during the intervention. He knew what that look meant.
They found Senior Auxiliary Baker and the three section commanders, in the guard room. They all immediately jumped to their feet and curtsied.
Baker was not a stupid woman, just a cruel one. She was a former university administrator, and she had been living in the Republic since its foundation. One of those women who managed to comfortably navigate the female laws, that restrained so many other women.
She started to speak, but Matthew raised his hand, “Be quiet,” he said. “None of you are to say a word, unless I specifically ask you to. That’s an order; acknowledge that you understand.”
He got a jagged reply of, “Yes, sir,” from all four women. He looked at them. All were educated university graduates; they should have been ideal candidates for their jobs. “It’s very important that you listen to what I’m about to say. 147 women are about to go in front of the judge for various offenses. To the court, it matters what they did, not why.”
One of the section commanders, a petite redhead, Alice Brown, looked down at the ground unable to meet his eyes.
“However it matters to me, and it’s going to matter to you as well very shortly. Prior to the protest yesterday, I made clear my intent.” He pointed at Brown. “State it again.”
“To maintain public order and ensure the peaceful execution of the ministry directive,” she said.
“Yes,” he said, “exactly as per my written fucking orders.” He felt his anger start to well up. “That permit from the Interior Ministry wasn’t just a piece of paper; that was a written order from the government of the Republic to its officers, in other words, to me.” He clenched his fists. “And you dumb, ignorant, malignant bitches, decided you could just fucking ignore it, and start beating women on the streets of the Republic in the middle of the fucking day.”
Baker looked like she was about to say something, but Howard raised a warning finger.
Matthew continued, “So ladies, we’re going to take the time now to begin adjusting your attitude.” He looked at them. “Begin by taking off your trousers, the ones that you decided you were now allowed to wear.”
Baker’s lips were moving, but nothing was coming out. Joe, without asking, went to the door and found the Deputy waiting outside. Baker’s eyes went wide, as she saw the cane in his hand.
The section commanders were already undoing their trousers. Baker stood frozen, until Joe walked up to her and asked if she was refusing to obey. She shook her head and started fumbling at her belt.
One of the section commanders, a small brunette, named Sarah Rhodes, pulled her trousers down to her ankles and then realised she couldn’t get them past her boots. It had been so long since any of them had worn trousers, Matthew thought, it had probably been a big deal for them, and if the protest hadn’t been such a disaster, it was the type of thing, he could happily have turned a blind eye to.
Rhodes fumbled, and then fell over. It looked like she was about to cry, but Joe went over to her. “It’s okay, just take your time, take your boots off first.” She looked up at him gratefully, and then started on her boots.
Baker was the last to get her trousers off, but eventually all four of them stood there, their uniform shirts coming to just below their waist, so only a flash of their knickers could be seen. The bright colours of their socks and knickers set off against the grey of their shirts.
“Stand to attention,” Joe ordered. All four women snapped to rigid attention.
Joe turned to Matthew and saluted. “All four of the accused stand ready, sir. Charges are willful disobedience, facilitating assault, and breaching the public peace.”
Matthew returned the salute, glad to see that Joe was taking this seriously.
“Ladies, I find you guilty of willful disobedience, and facilitating assault. I do not see enough evidence to convict you of breaching the public peace. Will you accept my judgement, or do you wish to have a formal hearing?”
Joe spoke up. “Ladies, accept the judgement or request a formal hearing, that’s the only reply I expect to hear from you.”
Matthew realised Joe was doing them a favour. At this point, the desire to start blabbering explanations must have been overpowering, especially for Baker.
One by one, he called their names, and one by one, they replied they would accept his judgement.
“Ms Baker,” he said, “you’ve caused a lot of suffering. At some point, we’ll talk about about what you were thinking, but for now, I sentence you to the maximum I can award–thirty-six strokes.”
She rocked back on her feet.
“Eighteen suspended, six to be administered immediately.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, and curtsied.
Then, he turned to the section commanders. “I gave specific orders, the fact that Ms Baker decided to contradict. Your receiving of punishment, reflects on your decision about who you should obey. Twenty-four strokes, twelve suspended, six to be delivered now.”
The three Section commanders thanked him, and curtsied in unison.
Joe stepped forward. “Okay, ladies. You administered lots of canings to women yesterday, but now we’re going to do it properly. Some of you want to pretend you’re soldiers; well, now’s an opportunity to behave like soldiers. You should all have seen this done in the past, but I’m going to explain to you how it will work. You will, when ordered, remove your knickers,” he paused, and looked at them sternly. “You are going to remove them! They’re not going to be ripped off you, as if by some violent lunatic.”
The women couldn’t meet his eyes.
“You will then step forward and pay compliments to the Master-at-arms. You will obey his instructions. He will count the strokes. He can, for whatever reason, discount a stroke, if he chooses. If you attempt to obstruct the Master-at-arms, the punishment will stop, and you will be arrested. Do you understand.”
A chorus of ‘yessirs’ came in response.
Then, Matthew turned to the Deputy. “Deputy, please do your duty.”
“Yes, sir,” the Deputy replied. He looked well practiced, and seemed to have no moral qualms, probably because of seeing the result of their antics. The guard room had three desks; he took a few moments to clear two of them, and placed them to the side. There was a long couch against the wall, which he pulled out slightly, and then moved back to the tables. He cleared random bits of furniture out of the way, until there was a clear path between the table and the couch.
“Ladies, form a line here,” he said, indicating a point on the floor where the carpet ended and the tiles began. “Quickly. Now!” he barked.
The women moved quickly into a line.
“Turn and face the officers. Remove your knickers, shirts, and T-shirt; you may keep your bras and socks on. Stand with your feet, shoulder-width apart. Move quickly!”
Matthew was a little surprised. Most of the canings he had witnessed, let women keep their tops on. He didn’t want to tell the Deputy how to do his job, but he didn’t want the whole scene to get more prurient than it already was. The women moved quickly, slipping out of their knickers, then removing their shirts and t-shirts. The women didn’t seem to care that they were naked–they were too terrified of what was to come.
They were all shaved, of course. SC Rhodes, the brunette, at first covered her sex with her hands, but then thought better of it, and moved her hands back to attention, revealing the pronounced labia, that stood very much in contrast to the narrow slit of SC Brown. He could see Rhodes was starting to tremble, and wondered if she would be able to get through this.
Behind them, he was surprised to see the Deputy put down the long cane and take a shorter one from a desk. The Deputy turned and walked behind the women, then turned to him, and spoke quietly, “This is how we do it in the female court, for workers when they act up. It’s quicker and easy to control, and does the minimum amount of physical damage, while still having the same effect. I think they’ll even be able to take the full twelve, if you want to give them the option. It will save reliving the experience in a week’s time?”
Matthew thought about it, “Give them the option.”
The Deputy stepped forward and quickly inspected the thighs and backsides of the women. “Any reason why you can’t receive punishment, ladies? Any medical condition? Answer honestly, or there will be repercussions.”
He got a series of ragged ‘nos’ and so continued. “In a moment, your officer will call you forward; you will turn smartly, curtsy, and then I will take you to the table.” He paused. “Once on the table, you can push back if you want. You’ve each been sentenced to twelve strokes, and have to take at least six now; at the end of the first six, I will give you the option of taking the remaining six. I promise you, it will be easier to get everything over with now.”
The Deputy turned back to Matthew. He decided to start with Rhodes, as she looked the worst. “SC Rhodes, turn and receive punishment.”
Rhodes turned and gasped to find the Deputy in front of her. Nothing happened, and then she remembered to curtsy.
He grabbed her firmly by the shoulder, and in what seemed like a flash, he had her over the table. He pressed his hand between her shoulder blades, and with the other, brought the short cane to shoulder height. He then lashed it down in a swift and even motion to the top of her backside.
She screamed.
But a split second later, he brought it down again two inches lower, and then again, another two inches lower.
She gasped, rather than screamed, Her hands flailed, but the Deputy seemingly didn’t mind. Rhodes didn’t scream at all on the fifth stroke, but on the sixth, she gave out a low moan.
Matthew heard a sound of water dripping, and then realised she had pissed herself. This was why the deputy wanted them on the tiled floor, he realised.
She started to cry, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”
The Deputy moved her body, so the remainder of the flow landed away from him, and said in a kind voice, “Don’t worry, you did very well. But will you take the next six?” he asked.
She sobbed, “I can’t… I…”
“Yes, you can. Be brave,” he said, firmly
“Okay… I… Yes,” she said, uncertainly.
With that, he pushed her back and proceeded to deliver five quick blows to previously untouched parts of her thighs and arse. She emitted low screams, but this time, she was trying to control herself. After five strokes, the Deputy looked at Matthew.
It took a moment to understand the Deputy’s question, then he gave a nod.
The Deputy gave the back of Rhodes head a touch with the crop, and said, “And that’s number twelve for being a good girl.”
The Deputy led Rhodes to stand up.
She stood there for a moment, before she remembered to curtsy. “Thank you, Deputy,” she said.
He then took her to the couch, had her kneel facing the headrest, with her back to the room, so nothing was touching her streaked backside.
Matthew looked at the even strikes–dark red and blue, but none broke the skin–all perfectly even, with what looked like equal force. Nasty, but they would heal well. The exact opposite of what had been meted out to the protesters.
Next, Matthew decided that Baker needed to be dealt with and out of the way. “SA Baker, turn and receive punishment,” he ordered.
Baker didn’t turn around; instead, she started to sob. “Please, you didn’t let me explain,” she cried. “They’re lying, I only did my job… Please!”
“You are the female Senior Auxiliary in this district. I am ordering you to turn around and take your punishment.” Matthew felt the anger rising in him; how much pity did she show to those protesters yesterday.
“No… I–”
Matthew nodded to the Deputy, who grabbed her by the hand. At first, she obviously thought she was being dragged towards the table, but instead, he dragged her towards the door. He opened it and threw her out. They heard him shout, “You, put her in custody; refusal, more charges to follow.”
He then walked back in. “The deputies have her. I’ll put the charge through as refusal to take lawful punishment; bit of paperwork, I’m afraid, but Upmarsh Prison will take care of her.”
Matthew nodded. It would be a hassle, but probably for the best. He turned to the last two. The small brunette with large breasts and athletic frame; he searched for her nameplate, “SA Parks, turn and receive punishment.”
With a breath, she turned and curtsied quickly. The Deputy led her just as quickly to the table, and like before, began administering the strokes immediately. She cried in pain, and started to push and flail, but within a few seconds, all six strokes had been deposited neatly on her arse and thighs.
“I’ll take the next six,” she said quietly, and just lay there gasping, as the next five strokes landed on her.
Matthew nodded to the Deputy, and the sixth stroke was a tap on the head. Matthew looked at his watch, fifteen minutes of work, and a lot had been done. He turned to the final woman. “SC Brown, turn and receive punishment.”
She hesitated, and again he ordered, “SC Brown, turn and receive punishment.”
“I’m sorry. I think I need to pee,” she said, trembling.
“Don’t worry about that,” the Deputy said. “It’s perfectly normal.”
She turned around, hesitated, and then curtsied. He led her firmly to the table, bent her over, his hand pushing down on her back over her bra. She didn’t scream, just gasped. On the third stroke, urine started to flow down her leg.
“I’m sorry… I can’t,” she said, seemingly more upset at having lost control of her bladder, than being caned.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about that,” the Deputy said.
The next three strokes caused the stream to start and stop again, until she was standing in a puddle of urine. “I’m sorry,” she said again, looking up at the deputy.
“You’re doing very well,” he said reassuringly “Will you take the next six?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said. And she seemed to mean it.
Matthew respected the way she took the next six; quietly, without straining against the deputy. After stroke number three, he removed his hand from her back, which Matthew thought was intended as a statement of confidence in her. She took the sixth stroke as a tap on the head, and then joined her fellow section commanders on the couch.
After a few moments, he said, “Ladies, get to your feet and pay your compliments to the Deputy.”
All three climbed from the couch, walked to the Deputy, and curtsied thanking him. Two of them, at least, even seemed to mean it.
He turned to them. “Ms Baker is no longer our concern. Take your time to gather yourselves, and we’ll talk later today.” He paused for a moment. “However, ladies, this is not the last time we’re going to do this. I intend to have a master-at-arms permanently assigned to the Auxiliary force. We will start to enforce discipline, and there will be no repeat of what happened yesterday.”
With that, he turned and left. Court was soon going to be in session.
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