In a future America institutional corporal
punishment has become the norm. The strap, the
cane and the paddle are in use in schools, jails
and prisons. And in this brave new world, Dr.
Henry Mason has a problem. Someone has
stolen the plans for his new invention. On top of
that, his daughter, Libby, is missing.
Enter Rollin Hand, an attorney with a penchant
for investigation. The only clue? A recent interest
on the part of Libby in a covert sect called The
Church of Atonement. The church harbors
secrets, and some peculiar beliefs which include
the use of ritual corporal punishment for its young
and idealistic devotees.
Now Libby and two of her friends have vanished
while on a camping trip and it's up to Rollin to find
both them and the missing plans. Rollin's search
will take him into the heart of a cult of flagellation
and its sinister motives and no one will escape
unscathed. Did I mention that Dr. Mason's
invention is a spanking machine?
"He won't be back today. I don't know if he'll be in tomorrow, either."
I heard this exchange just as I opened my office door. It was Jane, my secretary on the phone. She heard me and looked up, startled. I mouthed 'who?' and she said "just a minute" and put her on hold.
"Her name is Jessica Mason. I don't like the sound of her voice. It's too sultry. She's probably selling something. I'm telling her you are not here."
"Jane, put her through right now! We'll discuss this some more later."
I shot her a sharp look and headed for the inner office. I picked up the phone.
"This is Rollin Hand, can I help you?"
"Oh, Mr. Hand, your secretary said you were out." Jane was right. It was a young sultry voice with a Southern flavor.
"She was a little, ah, confused about my schedule. How can I help you?"
"Yes, my name is Jessica Mason. You were referred to me by a friend of my step daughter Libby, an Allison Carter. They are sorority sisters at the university."
Oh, yeah. Allison. A sweet kid. It had been nearly six months now since the incident in St Johns and all that trouble. The girls had finished out the year back at UVA. I had talked to Aunt Linnea and had received a card from Erin thanking me for my help. Allison had signed the card too with a note that suggested she'd like to see me if I ever came to Virginia. I had been too busy though. Harriet and I were exploring setting up a law practice. I wanted to stay in the US, she wanted the islands. It looked like we might compromise on Florida.
"Allison is a fine young lady."
"She speaks highly of you, Mr. Hand. Anyway I'm calling for my husband, Henry. Henry is a consulting engineer and an inventor. He has been working on an invention in secret, but Henry was contacted by a company that he does some work for, and they seem to know all about it. We don't know how. They want all the rights to it. Henry has patents pending, but that's a secret too. Henry wrote the patents himself. We need someone to advise us about this..."
In years past I had once done IP work as it's now called--on the litigation side. I was a registered patent attorney and knew this stuff, but I hadn't touched a patent in years. Burned out on it early on. Just general practice now.
"I haven't done patent work in quite awhile Mrs. Mason."
"It's Jessica, and we know. But what we need now is someone to speak for us with this company, to negotiate."
"Who is the company?" I asked.
"They are called Corpun, Inc."
This triggered a memory. Oh, yeah. They were one of the new breed of corporations getting into corrections. They made equipment and ran boot camps and prisons on behalf of states and counties on a contract basis. Now with the new emphasis on reeducation and corporal punishment for non-violent offenses, they were getting into the business of setting up and running correctional centers, as well as making "correctional devices". They were in a business competing with some big players, too. With every county and city flocking to embrace corporal punishment as an alternative to building prisons and jails, it was inevitable that companies like Gates Correctional and Nike Prison Industries would form. I hadn't heard much about Corpun.
"I might be willing to take this on, er, Jessica, but you didn't tell me--what is this invention that your husband made?"
"Oh didn't I say, Mr. Hand? It's a spanking machine."
Why was I not surprised? It had to happen. A spanking machine. A limber strap and elbow grease were not good enough. Technology marches forward. "Well, Mrs. Mason...er, Jessica, that is most intriguing, but I need a lot more information."
"We know, Mr. Hand..."
"Call me Rollin."
"Ok, Rollin. We would like for you to come to Charlottesville and see first hand. Henry teaches Electrical Engineering at the University. We live there. We'll pay your expenses, of course."
I agreed. We talked about logistics for a few moments more. I would catch a plane to Reagan and hop a commuter to Charlottesville. That done, my attention turned to Jane.
"Jane, I would like to speak with you--and bring your book."
Her demerit book, that is. Since her first transgression that had led to the spanking in the office, we had agreed that she would keep a book. Errors would be noted and an accounting duly conducted each Friday afternoon at closing time. Oddly enough it was Jane who suggested this system. "I'd rather just have my fanny tanned to keep me focused than to have you mad at me, boss." I had told her if that's the way she wanted it, then...ok.
Jane entered and stood at my desk, book in hand. She looked contrite.
"You can write down five, no, ten demerits for almost costing me a client. You are not to make judgments about who will or won't be routed to me. The only screening you should do is get rid of the salesmen and the ones I specifically tell you about. Sultry voice, right."
Jane looked chagrined. "I'm sorry boss, but you're right, and ten ticks it is," she said opening the book and making a note. "Ah boss, we should get started a little early today. It's been a bad week. I have thirty-six demerits with that ten."
"Thirty-six?" I said. That was a lot. That meant three dozen stinging licks with an eighteen inch ruler across Jane's nicely rounded rump, which would be quite bare at the time. I found the ruler to be perfect for the job. It was flexible and stingy and got the point across without bruising. Jane in fact, needed her Friday afternoon lickings. She had a boyfriend, Roger. But Roger was far too nice to give her what she craved, so I had become her surrogate disciplinarian. Roger, though, was the ultimate beneficiary of our correctional sessions. He probably wondered why he had such a passionate Jane on his hands on Friday evenings.
"We'll shut down the phones at four thirty." Jane nodded and unconsciously smoothed the back of her skirt, perhaps in an attempt to reassure her cheeky butt that it wouldn't be so bad. The skirt was short and tight and emphasized the rounded swells of her delectable rear end.
At four thirty on the dot Jane appeared, book in hand. She opened it. "I recounted, boss. It's really forty, not thirty-six. I'm, ah, ready for my correction now."
I could see her hardened nipples through her blouse. Although Jane's spankings stung, she was powerfully aroused by them. It must be the act of submission to a commanding male, I theorized. Whatever it was, what was about to happen in that otherwise drab office on a sunny Friday afternoon when everyone else was thinking about weekend golf games, camping, or gardening. This was something Jane needed, no, craved. And she was going to get it.
I put her in the corner and told her to lift her skirt. That took some tugging along with a delicious little shimmy. Her nicely rounded bottom cheeks were covered by diaphanous black panties. A garter belt and hose, black of course, completed the set. I let her wait for a few moments while I finished up a thing or two, then I got up and dragged a chair over in front of my desk. I sat down and grabbed the ruler.
"Let's get this over with, Jane. Come here."
"Yes, boss." She approached from my left with mincing steps and stretched herself over my lap, naughty girl style. The view from my angle was breathtaking. But, there was work to be done. I slipped my fingers into the waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips in response and I tugged them down. Her legs were straight, toes on the floor. Her hands supported her on the other side. This arched her buttocks beautifully. I knew that before we were done, her knees would buckle and she would drum her toes on the floor, squealing. I tapped her fanny with the ruler. She gave a little wriggle at the feel of the wooden ruler on the exposed flesh.
"You understand what this is for, right?" I said, tapping the pertly presented seat as I spoke.
"Yes boss--my mistakes--and this afternoon."
"Especially this afternoon, Jane." I gripped the ruler. The ruler, it seems to me, is perfect for this. It is light, springy and delivers a satisfying thwack! The sensation for the recipient is a sharp sting, and a number of these merge into a hot glow, like you had backed into the campfire. Well, Jane was due for a roasting so I decided to get to it.
Thwack!...thwack! I smacked the rippling cheeks with brisk wristy strokes. It didn't take long for Jane to become vocal.
"Ow...yeow, boss...ooh....I'm sorry....I promise ....please, yeoch!"
The spanking went on. I smacked her fanny at a steady pace. She drummed her toes on the carpet. This and the ruler made her ass jiggle as the swats rained down. I spanked from the crest of her sit spot to the juncture of buttocks and thighs. The early rectangular red bands caused by the ruler's impact merged into a tomato red glow. Toward the end her yelps became a steady chorus of "Ohh...ooh...ooh...ooh...ooh" as the ruler relentlessly thwacked down. She jerked and wriggled, but did not try to escape.
Thwack!...thirty-eight...thwack!...thirty-nine...and thwack! Forty. That was it.
"There, can you behave now?" And I helped her to her feet.
"Oooh...yes boss...ooh that really stung!" she said, rubbing her inflamed rear.
"That's the idea." I felt better now, my annoyance at her conduct dissipated by the sound smacking of her bottom. However, another condition had popped up.
"Er, boss," she said, eyeing my groin, which gave away my state of arousal, "do you want me to take care of that?"
Part of our weekly ritual involved sex. Not always, and no fucking since she had started going out with Roger, but I would frequently relieve her manually and she liked fellatio. Sometimes there was both.
"You may proceed," I said.
She unzipped me and pulled out my hardened shaft. She caressed it for a moment, then, licking her lips took me into her mouth. The things she could do with her lips and tongue! I came in jolting spasms and she greedily swallowed every drop.
"You?" I said. She shook her head.
"I need to go. You know,... Roger. I'm having him over to my apartment for dinner."
I knew. Lucky Roger. He won't know what hit him tonight. Yeah, she was going to literally have him for dinner in her state. Someday I was going to have to take the boy aside and explain his girlfriend to him, but then that would be the end of all this. Well,...maybe later.
I arrived at Reagan, rented a car, and drove down to Charlottesville. The area between Arlington and Charlottesville is hilly, green, and pretty. Too scenic now, almost, for its bloody heritage. This is where the Civil War was fought. Manassas, Fredericksburg, Spotsylvania, Cold Harbor, The Wilderness. As I drove, I could imagine Lee and Jackson surveying the ground, picking the best spot for a fight.
Henry Mason was in a fight of another sort, and Corpun was the aggressor. I read the file before I got on the plane. Corpun claimed now that they, not Henry, owned the inventions and they wanted Henry to sign over his rights lock, stock and barrel.
I followed the directions Jessica had given me. Henry lived on the outskirts of Charlottesville in an impressive antebellum mansion complete with white columns and a veranda. Not bad for a college professor. I half expected to see them sipping mint juleps as I drove up the circular driveway that wound around a fountain---complete with nymphs.
Nor was I prepared for Jessica Mason. She was in her early thirties. Obviously Jessica was wife number two and not Libby's mother. She was a tall, voluptuous woman with almond shaped green eyes and long flaming red hair, parted to one side and tucked under where it fell below her shoulders, like a nineteen-forties movie star. Veronica Lake with red hair. Or Julianne Moore maybe--only more voluptuous. I imagine she caused quite a stir at faculty teas. She answered the door in jodhpurs that were skin tight across her curvy bottom. Her ample breasts strained the simple white cotton blouse she wore. The riding crop was a nice touch.
She invited me in with that sultry Southern voice.
"Thank you for coming, Rollin. Henry is on the back porch."
I followed the gentle sway of her jouncy rear as she led me to the porch.
I was not prepared for Henry Mason. He was in his sixties, easily twice Jessica's age. Henry was a robust bear of a man with close cropped gray hair. He walked with the aid of a walking stick as it seemed he had a limp on his left side. How did he handle the smoldering bundle of femininity that was Jessica?
"It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Hand," he said warmly. "I trust you are not too tired from your trip."
I assured him that I was fine. A few more pleasantries were exchanged and we got to the purpose of my trip.
"I did some consulting work for Corpun. They make equipment for secure facilities like prisons. I designed mechanical-electrical systems and the software that ran them. Ah, things like automated locking systems, video surveillance, computer-controlled lockdown facilities, that sort of thing. I did this work for them, turned over the designs and thought that was that. Well, it wasn't. They came to me several weeks ago claiming that my discipline machines were theirs.�
Mason eased into a chair and motioned for me to do the same.
"You see, I am also a free-lance inventor. Two events sparked my interest in conceiving what I believe is my most valuable invention, the one that Corpun now wants. The first is my beautiful wife here, Jessica."
Jessica beamed. My observation was that there was genuine affection between them.
"The second is the revolution in corrections that has occurred as a result of our political climate. When the political culture turned more conservative, schools, churches, parents and ultimately law enforcement advocated a 'return to the woodshed', and it struck a chord in the American psyche. As you know many state and local governments adopted corporal punishment for entire classes of non-violent offenses. School districts as well have adopted paddling policies to deal with misbehavior. One problem that I saw was that punishments mandated by the state should be impartially meted out, and...they should be the same for the same offense. Instead, what do we have? Some corrections officials wield strap or cane correctly, skillfully, some do not. Some are too severe while others too soft. Do you see my point?"
I assured him that I did.
"So I sensed a need. And I came up with a machine that dispenses discipline, fairly, efficiently, and most of all, uniformly. All of those convicted and sentenced will be treated the same. The machine has no emotions, no slow days, no lapses in attention or coordination. And it is highly effective as Jessica will testify," he said with a chuckle. Jessica blushed but flashed a naughty grin. I couldn't understand this. Did he test the machine on her? And did she like it?
"I sense your puzzlement, Mr. Hand, but all will be explained. Let me be frank. Before the accident that left me partially crippled and impaired in certain other departments, Jessica and I were avid, well, lifestylers. You may be more familiar with the term 'swinger'."
I said I was.
"Before my accident, Jessica and I were very active in this scene. My injury left me unable to... ah, perform as it were, so I set out to devise a machine that would take care of Jessica's needs--all of them. You see Jessica has a need for discipline as well as sex. Perhaps we should adjourn to my lab where I can show you." Jessica looked at Henry expectantly. He motioned in the direction of the door.
"After you, my dear," said Henry gently but firmly. Jessica seemed flustered, her eyes wide, but I caught a trace of excitement there too. We followed her out of the room. I tried not to stare but I was mesmerized by the sway of her luscious hips, the ovals of her bottom straining the fabric of the tight jodhpurs.
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