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The room that Brenda and the other girls were led into was large and ornately decorated with tapestries along the walls, plush carpet, and oak furniture. Brenda's quick glimpse gave her the impression of wealth and finery but subdued with cold formality.
So intrigued was she by the unusual surroundings that they were almost to the front of the room before she realized she was standing before a large oak desk. Across the front was inscribed in large wooden letters, "Justice is mine, Saith the Lord."
Brenda looked up and behind the desk sat an imposing man dressed in a black cloak. His eyes were dark and cruel and somehow made Brenda deeply afraid. With irony she felt she'd get no justice here. At least not justice from her point of view.
"Welcome to the House of Correction, Sinners." The voice was deep and stern and Brenda could detect a faint note of sarcasm. "All of you are here for one reason and one reason only--to be punished. This place you are in is a prison--a private prision run by private individuals for private ends. The founders of this prison, depressed with society's lack of morals and lack of discipline, established this building and organization in order to administer justice and proper punishment to the sinners of today."
A dark hand moved and lifted a sheet of paper. The tiny eyes squinted. "Sarah Andrews? Are you here?" The eyes scanned the girls. Finally, trembling and half-crying, a young blond girl on the end stepped forward. "Answer 'Yes, Sir!' if you are Sarah Andrews!" glared the Judge.
"Yes, sir," the girl nodded.
"Sarah, this court accuses you lewd conduct, public indecency, and moral impropriety. Do you have a defense?"
"Sir, I do not know what you are talking about...I, I never did anything so wrong. I..."
"Silence! On the evening of July the third, 1987 you attended a party with Sir Walter Andrews, did you not!"
"Uh, yes, sir, but--"
"And did you not have sexual intercourse with Sir Walter that very night?"
"Uh, how did you? Of course not. I never--"
"Then you married him a virgin?"
The girl paused, her face confused. "Uh, no sir. Well, I mean, sir. I--"
"In the September 1989 issue of _Topless_ magazine were there not nude photographs of you published?"
The girl turned red and did not answer.
"And the January issue of this year's _Playboy_? Were you not arrested on January first of last year for indecent exposure? What about the several affairs you've had continuously since your marriage to Sir Walter? Did those contribute to your subsequent divorce from him? Do you have any defense against these charges? Can you disprove them in any way?"
The girl was crying now, her pretty face blotchy and red, her breasts heaving with her sobs. "I was at a party, we got carried away. I didn't mean anything by any of it. Everyone was doing it. I'm not the only one. Why punish me?"
The Judge's voice boomed out cutting through her sobs: "Enough! Understand, Sarah Andrews, the judgement of this court: guilty as charged. The sentence: three years in the House followed by six months probation--your release conditional upon your behavior." The Judge hammered his gavel with a bang and Brenda gasped. She was terified, though she didn't even understand anything.
She vaguely remembered being stirred out of bed, something pressed over her face, then waking up in a dark van which drove for many hours. She slept several times, her rest interupted by terrible dreams. When they finally stopped, she was blindfolded and led on a long walk through corridors and up and down flights of stairs. She had absolutely no idea where she was when she finally found herself in a darkened room with several other young girls. She was gagged and bound to a bed in a corner and left. Much later she was awaken and led here. To be judged. For what? She frantically ran through her mind the things she could have done. Posed nude? No, she'd never done that. Except for that time with Brad--she blushed at the memory--but that was just the two of them. And no one knew but them knew.
Suddenly Brenda realized that the Judge was reading through another list of crimes and asking Sasha Phillips for a defense. Sasha was a tiny dark-haired girl, plumply endowed, with gorgeous pouting lips. Her eyes were dark and firey and she glared at the judge in fury.
"You pompous ass," she shouted. "What gives you the right to judge us? You have no right at all! I will not even try to defend myself against your ridiculous accusations. This is ridic--"
"Guilty as charged! The sentence: five years in the House with the standard conditional release. I also proscribe daily punishment of Scarlet Intensity for the first six months or until you appologise to this court for your rudeness!" The gavel banged and Sasha was led away her angry shouts drifting back from the corridor.
"Brenda Colner?" Brenda started with surprise. "Are you here?"
"Yes, sir." She stepped forward, and found herself shaking.
"You are acused of lewd behavior and illicit sexual relations. Do you have a defense against these charges?"
Brenda decided to play along. "I would like to know the specifics, your Honor."
He stared at her for a moment. "Very well. Does this photo look familiar?" He held out a photo that she definately remembered--she blushed immediately--it was her and Brad. They both were naked and rather preoccupied in the photo. She knelt her head in shame, her blush stinging her face.
"How did they get the photo?" was all she could think about.
"Brenda Colner is guilty as charged. The sentence--"
"But wait--I didn't get a chance--"
"What can you say? That is you in the photo, isn't it?"
"Well, yes, but it was only that once--"
"Once is all it takes."
"What now? You want to tell me you and Brad were married? No? Have you _ever_ been married?"
"Well, no, but--"
"Enough said. The sentence: two years and just for your stubbornness, Scarlet Punishment for one month!"
"But--" Brenda was being led away, the judge already reading the crimes of the next sinner. In despair Brenda turned to her captor, a large matron of considerable strength who pulled Brenda down a corridor and into a room.
In shame Brenda found her clothes torn off and tossed aside. Naked, she was again led down the hall towards a heavy door that was barred and bolted with several locks. After unlocking theses, the matron knocked rapidly on the door and stop in coarse tones. The door was opened from the inside and Brenda was shoved through.
Chapter 2: The Welcoming Committee
The new matron--dressed in the same gray uniform and so much like the first as too be identical--led Brenda down the hallway and into a large lobby area. Here Brenda gasped in shock, for everywhere she looked were naked girls like herself. She noticed they were all very pretty, with excellent figures and attractive faces. But to her horror she also noticed that almost all she saw bore marks of severe punishment, their buttocks red and in many cases, welted and even blistered. Others also had red strap marks across their thighs and calves, and an least two she noticed had marks across their breasts.
No one seemed to take notice of her as she meekly followed the matron through the throng and to another matron where she was left while the first returned to her post at the door.
The new matron looked at Brenda darkly and grinned almost evilly. "I'll enjoy spanking you, I will. Fresh and plump, you are. Untouched and virginal. You'll be raw by days end, I reckon." The matron laughed, but it was not reassuring laughter to Brenda.
She followed the new matron down yet another corridor, leaving the crowded room behind. They hurried and Brenda had no time to notice the rooms she was passing, but got just glimpses of nakedness and pain. She could have sworn she heard the sounds of a strap striking bare flesh, and in another room she thought she saw a girl being heavily paddled by a matron, the girl hanging from the ceiling, her arms over her head.
When they finally stopped before a closed door, Brenda was positive she could hear weeping inside. At the matron's knock the door opened and Brenda was pushed inside. She saw with horror that it was Sarah Andrews who was crying. She was naked and as she was ushered past and led outside, Brenda saw her buttocks were red and sore. Something inside her trembled, but another part of her was almost turned on by excitment. Was this to be her fate? A paddling? Were her buttocks to be so reddened for the next two years of her sentence? She was terrified and anticipatory at the same time.
Suddenly she realized she was alone with a matron. This one a thin woman, but wearing the same gray outfit as the others. Her cold face smiled without meaning at Brenda and she ran her fingers down the side of Brenda's face.
"You are a very pretty one, Brenda. Welcome to the House of Correction. My name is Mistress Angela. You may never address me without my title. I am here to welcome you to the House and to give you a little demonstration of what will become of you here, as I am sure you are curious. First we shall begin with a little spanking. Please place your hands on the back of your neck and spread your legs apart a little more. Stand firmly now."
As she spoke Mistress Angela was manipulating Brenda into position, her strong hands plumping Brenda's breasts, squeezing her buttocks and pulling them apart slightly. Brenda stood still during all this, too afraid to move. Frantically she tried to think when she had last been paddled.
There was that time as part of that sorority initiation--that had been pretty painful. But before that, on her sixteenth birthday, when her father had paddled her for spending the weekend in Baja, Mexico without telling him. That had really hurt.
Suddenly Mistress Angela gripped Brenda's arm and hissed in her ear. "This is going to hurt, Brenda, really hurt. And you will get more, much more, every day you are here. Learn to enjoy it, Brenda. Learn to ache for it, to desire it more than food. Learn to crave the warmth and severity of the paddle, Brenda, for then you can be free to enjoy it. If you fight it you make it all the worse."
Brenda listened, her mind wirling, trying to make sense of the Mistress' words. Desire the paddle? That made no sense. She was terrified of it. She feared the pain. Even now she had gasped and was holding her breath, her whole body still with anticipation. But nothing happened.
Just as she started to look over her shoulder to see what was keeping the matron, she felt the rough wood of the paddle touch the flesh of her bottom. It just pushed up against her, rotating slightly, letting her feel its weight and tecture. Then it pulled back and Brenda really began trembling.
The first blow struck her buttocks full on and sent waves of stinging pain through her body. The pain seemed to increase each second, getting hotter and hotter and hotter and Brenda unintentionally wiggled in her agony. She wanted to grip her buttocks between her hands, but she could not move. She was too afraid of what the matron might do.
Another blow landed, its loudness terrifying her, the waves of pain becoming a little more familiar now, her body adjusting. Again and again and again the paddle came down, harder and harder, and soon Brenda was gasping for breath, her buttocks flaming. But the paddle did not stop. It mercilessly kept going, catching and lifting her rump with each blow, pushing it down with others. Sometimes it caught her on the left, other times on the right. Mistress Angela seemed determined to redden every part of Brenda's ass.
The paddling sped up, the blows coming harder and faster, when suddenly an extra hard blow almost knocked Brenda off her feet. As she struggled to stay upright the matron mercilessly beat her buttocks furiously with the paddle. When she stopped Brenda could hardly breathe, and her buttocks felt so sore she thought they'd never heal.
Mistress Angela grabbed Brenda's shoulder and rotated her so she could see her backside in a wall mirror. Brenda stared in amazing and almost cried out in fear. Despite all the pain she'd just endured, her bottom was barely red. It certainly was no where near the welted, blistered bottoms she'd seen out in the lobby.
The matron smiled unpleasantly. "Not a bad start. But we'll get those buttocks the proper color soon." Her hand gently touched Brenda's ass and she winced and sucked in her breath at the pain. "I think you're ready for a tour of the facilities now."
Before Brenda could wonder what she might mean, she found herself out in the hall again, being led by yet another gray matron.
Chapter 3: A Quick Tour
As Brenda trotted down the hallway desperately trying to keep up with the quick-moving matron, her mind was whirling in confusion. Her bottom throbbed, and as each step bounced it she could almost see how it looked, reddened and bright, all curves and softness. The pain made her unduely concious of her buttocks and her sex, and her nakedness accentuated those feelings.
Around her she saw many other naked girls, some obviously in various forms of punishment, others seemingly wandering about on their own. But though she couldn't look too closely, she didn't see any girl whose bottom wasn't at least a little red.
"This is my life," she thought in misery. "I will be in this kind of pain for ever!"
Suddenly she saw they had stopped before a large glass window. Inside was a sight that brought a gasp of dismay to Brenda's throat. "This is one of the training rooms," the matron said matter-of-factly, in an almost bored tone.
In the room were several young girls, pretty and completely naked. Each was carrying a glass of water on a tray. One by one they walked down a line of matrons, each wielding a light leather paddle.
Brenda watched as a cute brunette started down the aisle, trembling as she tried to hold her tray steady. Her shapely buttocks were already bright red. The first matron struck her full cross her buttocks with a terrible blow, but somehow the girl managed to keep her balance. On down the line she went, tears pouring down her face and across her well-endowed chest as matron after matron paddled her furiously. About halfway through she wobbled and spilled some of the water, but kept going, but just a few blows later she lost her balance completely and the glass tumbled off her tray.
Instantly a matron came from across the room and led her to a corner and proceeded to whip her thighs and calves with a thick leather belt. When the whipping was finished, she was giving another tray and glass and returned to the start of the line.
Brenda couldn't believe what she was seeing. There were half-a-dozen girls waiting in line and several being whipped at all times. With almost two dozen matrons to pass through, it apparently took numerous trips for the girls to learn to balance the trays properly.
But Brenda's matron was leading her away. Not far was another window, and Brenda received another shock and a sense of dispair began to grow within her.
In this room were a series of phalluses. Suspended above each phallus was a girl, her hands and ankles restricting her movement to barely a budge. Yet several girls had mounted the phalluses and were contorting the best they could while powerful matrons paddled them furiously with heavy leather paddles.
"This is the Reward Center," Brenda's matron spoke suddenly, her voice calm. "Girls who are cooperative are brought here, where if they wish they may mount a phallus and pleasure themselves briefly. They are punished most severely for this satisfaction, of course."
For a moment Brenda wondered why these women would subject themselves to such pain just for a few seconds of pleasure, when she began to feel her desire growing. She could feel her sex dripping and almost looked down at it. Instead she tried to concentrate on the blows of the paddles, how they slammed into the bare, unprotected skin and sent shivering tremors of pain through the bodies. She knew suddenly, that she craved a phallus more than anything, and it wouldn't have taken her long to satisfy herself despite the distraction of the paddle.
Again they moved on, passing other windowed rooms of training and punishment, Brenda's mind whirling with all the terrible pleasures and tortures she'd seen. They reached another room and Brenda saw with despair that her matron was opening the door and ushering Brenda inside.
She was almost afraid to look. What torture would she be subject too? What pain would she be forced to endure? She didn't have long to wait. The room was apparently a training room for new inmates. This was a brief introduction to the various forms of spanking employed at the castle, commented a matron.
Brenda was led to a line with other girls and watched as one by one each was soundly spanked in a variety of methods. The first girl, an exotic with beautiful dusky skin and midnight hair, was pulled forth and introduced to various paddles. Then the matron applied several weights of leather belts and straps, and finally she was bent across a matron's lap and spanked by hand for quite some time.
But the other girls were already being spanked, and Brenda suddenly realized there was only two girls in front of her. She began to tremble and wondered if she could dare run away. Apparently the girl in front of her had the same thought--she made a bolt for the door. She didn't get halfway before two matron's had grabbed her and turned her upside down by her ankles. A third matron brought over a heavy wooden paddle and procceeded to paddle the girl soundly, the loud blows deafening in the small room. After several dozen hard blows the much-quieted girl was returned to her place in line just in time to be taken for her training spankings.
Then it was Brenda's turn. Awash with emotions, Brenda couldn't tell if she was more excited or afraid. Everything was somehow sexually stimulating. She was unbelievably turned on, her sex wet and desire imense. The first spanking, a very thin leather paddle that was so flexible it slapped her buttocks more than paddled them, calmed her a bit. The stinging blows were rapid and hard, and in moments she was gasping and tears were in her eyes.
She was moved into various positions while the paddle rained down--standing, kneeling, bent over from the waist, on her hands and knees, flat across the floor, stretched out across a giant round cushion. This last was the worst, because her bottom was so relaxed and bouncy.
Then the matron showed her a new paddle. This was a thin wooden one. It's blows were harder and sharper, and it's high-pitched _Crack_! made Brenda cringe as much from the terrifying sound as from the pain, though it didn't really hurt much more than the thin leather one.
Next was a heavy leather, which was followed by a several weights of wooden paddles, each of various thicknesses. The heavier paddles made the muscles in her buttocks ache, and Brenda began to groan after each blow. As she was moved from position to position for each paddling, she found herself able to distinguish between the various pains of each paddle and each position.
In the standing positions the paddles would catch the underside of her buttocks and lift them. It was almost a sexual movement of her body, and Brenda found she was growing hot. But the pain was excrutiating, the lower part of her buttocks very tender and soft.
When she was kneeling, the paddles drove her forward, the blows pushing her buttocks toward her spine. The pain was duller, but steady and more agrevating. Sometimes the paddle caught the tender flesh of her thighs and she almost screamed. But the lying down positions were the worst, her buttocks relaxed and soft, the heavier paddles driving her into the floor. At times she so drove herself with it she almost felt she was trying to masturbate with the floor or the cushion.
Finally the paddles were over and it was the belts and straps. For these Brenda assumed several positions, including standing, crawling, and lying across another cushion. At first the thin belt stung so lightly it almost seemed an insult. Brenda found herself watching the girl in front of her, the one who had tried to escape. Her buttocks were extremely red and welted, and she was writhing and crying with terror that while Brenda felt sorry for her, she also felt a tremendous sexual charge within herself at seeing the girl's graceful rump being lashed with a heavy leather belt, seeing the red flesh turn white with each blow, watching the skin tremble and quiver and the bottom bounce.
But then Brenda was moved to another position and a new belt, a heavy thick belt that felt as hard as a paddle. The blows stung more, and more than ever before landed across her thighs and calves and Brenda was soon using all her energy in the struggle to remain in position. She desperately wanted to run, to cover her tender ass with her hands, to comfort her sore bottom with water, but she was even more terrified of what punishment would follow such rebellion.
Finally the straps were over and Brenda almost gratefully stretched out across the matron lap for the hand spanking. But soon she realized that the hand hurt as much as any paddle. The matron was very strong and heavy, and her blows were fast and hard, and she spread them about to spank every inch of Brenda's generous bottom. She would spank near the top of her buttocks for a while, then move to the lower, fatter portion, then concentrate on just the left cheek, then the right. She even spanked Brenda's thighs for a while, and Brenda began to panic wondering when this nightmare would end.
Brenda was desperately craving sexual satisfaction, but her position prevented her from achieving any at all. The pain just increased her desire by distancing her from it, and by preventing its immediate gratification. The longer she went without satistifying it, the more intensely she felt the desire. The pain caused a certain amount of distraction, but because of its sexual nature, it also renewed a certain amount of desire in her. By the time the hand spanking was over, Brenda was trembling all over, not from the pain, but from trying to maintain control over her sexual impulses.
She gratefully stood up after the spanking, relishing her legs touching each other and the slight benefit this gave her sex. She followed her matron out the door of the training room obediently, terrified as she saw the escapee-girl being led back to the line for another run through the training session, her matron apparently not satisfied with her performance.
"You did very well in there, Brenda," said her matron as they walked down the hall. "I was very impressed. Many virgin inmates require much more extensive training than you have received to maintain such control that you demonstrate."
Brenda nodded but didn't say anything, not sure if the comment was a compliment or not.