From the Top Shelf - Lucy's Research

As you may recall, last week Lucy borrowed a bicycle and rode into the village, where she ran into a police officer. She was tried, convicted, and sentenced to12 strokes of the cane. We had to stop before the actual caning took place, but let's continue now. We mustn't keep Lucy waiting any longer.

Constable Sims had one hand on the score pointer, which was set at zero. She was looking over Lucy's shoulder and nodded almost imperceptibly.

With a swish, the cane sliced through the air. The crack of hard wood on firm flesh was like a pistol shot. Lucy felt the impact make her bottom cheeks shudder, but for a split second felt no pain. Then she screamed as her bottom was bisected by a white-hot band. Constable Biggs stood firmly braced as his young burden bucked and writhed on his back, her legs pumping as she tried to ease the pain. The score pointer moved from zero to one.

The sergeant waited until Lucy had ceased to struggle. The pause must have been fully fifteen or twenty seconds. Lucy felt the tears running down her cheeks as the searing pain seemed to sink slowly from the surface of her skin, right down into the fleshy part of her bottom. She had screwed her eyes tightly shut in a vain attempt to find relief and when she opened them again, she saw, over Constable Bigg's shoulder, that the policewoman was looking straight at her. The constable's hand was on the pointer, waiting to keep the score, and she met Lucy's tearful gaze quite dispassionately.

Some minute change in the officer's expression, a widening of the eyes or perhaps a twitch of facial muscle, gave Lucy a split-second's warning. She gritted her teeth, determined not to scream again. Time seemed to slow down. Lucy distinctly heard, felt, and had time to appreciate, each individual component of the drama in which she was the central figure. The swish of the descending cane. The sharp crack of the impact. The breath driven through her clenched teeth in a strangled hiss. The searing heat across her bottom, focused in a narrow band just a fraction below the first. The dry scrape of the pointer as Constable Sims moved it from 'one' to 'two'.

The painful sequence was repeated four more times, with that deliberate measured pause after each stroke so that Lucy could fully appreciate what was being done to her bottom in the name of justice. She managed to maintain silence, apart from a muffled grunt for the third and fourth but the fifth defeated her and the sixth made her howl uncontrollably.

As the sobs racked her body, Lucy waited for the seventh stroke. She knew she was at the limit of her endurance and could not imagine how she was going to survive another six. The sergeant had been meticulous in his aim, and she could feel each individual weal, each a fraction lower than the preceding one. Her whole body had jerked with the shock of each stroke and her arms felt ready to leave their sockets with the strain of supporting her full weight. Her breasts were squashed into the broad back of Constable Biggs's tunic and felt hard and tender. Worst of all, her bare pubes had chafed on the rough material of the officer's uniform with each spasmodic wriggle and, despite the throbbing bruises, or perhaps because of the heat of them, she could feel herself lubricating uncontrollably.

The wait for the next stroke of the cane seemed interminable then, to her amazement, Lucy felt Constable Biggs straighten up; felt her feet touch the stool again. She sighed with relief as the tension in her arms relaxed, and felt a surge of hope as the sergeant replaced the cane in its place on the rack. Her rising spirits were immediately dashed.

"The first part of your punishment is complete." The sergeant was facing her now, sounding very formal. "You have ten minutes to compose yourself after which the remainder of the sentence will be carried out. Constable Sims will escort you in the meantime." He took Lucy's hands and released the manacles which held her wrists.

Lucy felt her knees go weak. This was too cruel! Seeing Lucy stagger, the policewoman stepped forward to support her.

"Come along, Lucy, get a grip on yourself." The voice was not unkind and the use of her first name penetrated Lucy's bemused senses. She looked at the officer questioningly. What did they expect of her now?

As if in answer to the unspoken question, Constable Sims took Lucy's arm. "Pick up your panties, bring them with you and come with me. We'll see if we can't tidy you up a bit; you look quite a sight." As she spoke, she reached behind Lucy with her free hand and pulled off the tape which held Lucy's skirt up.

Long past any embarrassment which she might have felt, Lucy automatically brushed her skirt into place and stiffly bent to collect her panties, which lay on the floor. The woman constable led her, panties clutched in one hand, from the punishment room down another featureless corridor to the ladies' toilet. Once inside, she briskly arranged the unresisting Lucy with her hands on the edge of a wash basin, raised her skirt again and began to dab at the weals on Lucy's bottom with a sponge soaked in cold water.

"This will bring out the bruising and soothe you a bit. It's all I can do for you at present, I'm afraid."

Lucy dabbed at her eyes and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her face was red and what little make-up she had worn was now streaked. She made a half-hearted attempt to clean her face. "Thank you." She managed the phrase without another sob. "What happens next?"

"We have just a few more minutes," Constable Sims explained," then I'm afraid I have to take you back."

Lucy's face and any reserves of spirit she might have left began to crumble. She felt the tears welling up. Despite the cold sponge, her bottom was throbbing terribly and as she put a tentative hand to the afflicted area she could feel the ridges left by the cane in distinct parallel lines.

"Come on, now, don't cry anymore. You'll survive. Yours isn't the first bottom to be caned here by any means, I can assure you,and it won't be the last."

"It's all right for you to say," Lucy snivelled. "You don't know what it feels like."

"Listen, you silly girl, that's all you know - and in any case you have brought this upon yourself." Lucy looked closely at the woman constable and for the first time realised that she was probably only a year or so older than Lucy herself. "You mean?" she began uncertainly.

"I'm not saying any more, let's just say I know just what it feels like. If I were you, I'd just try and relax. It's worse if you are all tensed up, believe me. Just keep your legs together and relax. Now, time's nearly up. Come on, otherwise I might well feel the sergeant's belt across my arse. You have one minute to make yourself comfortable. I'll be waiting outside."

Next week: round two.

To re-read the entire story, go to this post - From the Top Shelf - scroll down to A Degree of Discipline, and you will see all the posts from the story, in order.