Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Certificate of Correction Pt 10

   Why was I not surprised that we had not seen the last of Anna Klochek?
For a Carribean island, these people were wrapped pretty tight.  Now, it
seemed, Erin and Allison were in trouble for creating a scene as Susan was
being fastened to the whipping post.  Harriet blamed herself.

   "Dammit, I should have told the girls--they don't allow any vocal
demonstations of any kind when punishment is meted out.  You noticed that
it was pretty silent even though everyone who had a window to the
courtyard, including other prisoners was watching," she said as we hurried
along.

   "Yeah, I noticed that it was sort of quiet." You would think that
prisoners watching from the windows would be hootin' and hollerin'.

   "That's because they come down hard on other prisoners who shout
encouragement or who heckle.  I've heard that these violators pay a little
visit to a soundproofed upstairs room the next day.  I didn't put too much
stock in the rumor because no one ever came to me directly.  I feel
horrible I forgot to tell the girls this."

   We arrived at Ms Klochek's office.  The lettering on the door gave her
title--Deputy Matron, Director of Discipline.  Director of Discipline--that
figures.  A secretary looked up and buzzed an inner office.

   "They're here."

   Over the intercom came the voice of Anna Klochek.  "Send them in."

   The secretary rose and indicated for us to follow.  We walked through an
office that was apparantly Deputy Klochek's and into a room beyond.  What
we saw there gave me a cold lump in the pit of my stomach.

   Erin and Allison were upended over a pair of sturdy padded stools, their
hands and ankles bound by cuffs to the legs of the stools.  They had been
in street clothes, the dresses they had worn to court.  The hems of these
dresses had been pulled up and secured at the small of their backs with a
strap.  Panties had been lowered to their ankles.  Their bottoms were bare,
red, and swollen--the latter two characteristics the result of this
morning's tanning with the strap.

   Anna Klochek stood in the center of the room, her hands flexing a thin
pliable cane protruding from a handle.  She was bending it into a
semicircle.  Then she whooshed it through the air a few times.  It made a
sickening whine.  Two other guards stood off to the side.

   "You're just in time to witness a little supplemetary punishment for
your clients here, thanks to that little disturbance of theirs.  Our rules
absolutely forbid any catcalls or cheers on the part of spectators.  When
prisoners break this rule we are authorized to punish the offenders.  And
don't bother calling.  I have already spoken with the judge--he witnessed
the whole thing and he agrees with my decision as Director of Discipline.
They will receive 4 strokes each with the junior cane."

   I was indignant.  "You can't be serious.  Four strokes with that cane on
top of what they have been through--it's barbaric!" Both girls looked at me
with frightened eyes, helpless, hoping I could do something.

   Anna Klochek smiled and shrugged.  "They should have obeyed our rules.
Now they pay.  With their bare little fannies."

   "They didn't know there was a rule," I said.  I was getting pissed. 
This was purely a snide payback at Harriet for noticing Klochek's mistake
with the heavy strap this morning.  This woman had a heightened sense of
her own importance.

   "Well...whose fault is that?  Isn't it your business to know these
things and to advise your clients?"

   "It's mine," said Harriet, looking Anna Klochek in the eye.  Harriet was
wearing a suit with a short skirt, white blouse and a jacket.  She moved
over to a table and began to unbutton the jacket.  "It's my fault so cane
me instead."

   My jaw dropped.  "Harriet you can't...".  Her look silenced me.  "I know
what I'm doing, Rollin." She had decided.  The determined look said it all.

   One of the matrons chuckled and shook her head.  "Sorry, honey, nice
try, but our procedures don't permit..." Deputy Klochek held up her hand,
stopping her underling in mid sentence.  Her face broke into a broad smile.

   "So, Mrs Reeves, you are willing to take the punishment for these two?"
indicating Erin and Allison.  "That's a very interesting proposition.  How
courageous of you.  I must say it's unusual.  I've never seen an attorney
prepared to accept her client's punishment as her own."

   The other matron spoke.  "Anna, you can't...".  Anna gave her a hard
stare.  "Shut up, Officer Vasquez, this is my call and I can do anything I
want." Then she turned to Harriet, regarding her thoughtfully.  I could not
take my eyes off of thin thin flexible cane that she flexed with her hands
as she considered Harriet's offer.  She could bend it almost in a circle.
"Hmmm...I'm inclined to say yes to your proposal."

   "You'll let the girls go.  When this is done we leave," Harriet said
evenly.

   "Yes."

   "All right.  We have an agreement."

   "Yes we do," said Anna with a wide grin.  " And I don't mind telling
you, Mrs Reeves, that I will enjoy this." The smile vanished.  " Now to
business.  That suit looks like it would wrinkle.  Would you be so kind as
to take it off?"

   Harriet took a deep breath and unzipped the skirt.  She dropped it
revealing an ensemble in white satin, a garter belt holding sheer nylons,
and panties.  She unbuttoned her blouse to show a white satin bra.  Lovely.
Under other circumstances I would have been dazzled--even as it was, I
hated myself for my developing erection.

   "The girls," I said, gesturing to Erin and Allison still bound over the
stools.

   "Oh, yes, release them," Ms Klochek nodded to Officer Vasquez.  The
assistants unbuckled the girls who rose on unsteady legs, pulled their
panties back up, and smoothed their dresses back down.  Their faces bore
looks of genuine relief which then turned to looks of concern at Harriet's
plight.

   Harriet had stipped down to bra, garter belt and nylons, and panties. 
Anna Klochek pointed the cane toward the near stool.  "Would you be so kind
as to assume the position, Mrs Reeves?  Over the stool please, bottom well
up."

   Harriet took a deep breath and lowered herself face down across the
padded top.  Her luscious bottomcheeks were turned up and in perfect
position for the cane.

   "Fasten her down." Two assistant matrons lept do do Ms Klochek's
bidding.

   Harriet turned her head.  "Tying me down isn't necessary.  I won't get
up."

   "Oh, I'm sorry Mrs Reeves--regulations you know.  All punishees must be
restrained.  This will hurt a bit, I'm afraid, and you might jump up and
injure yourself."

   They buckled her wrists and ankles in and drew the strap across the
small of her back.  Harriet was completely immobile.  Klochek circled her,
moving to her front, still flexing the whippy cane.  She paused in front of
Harriet, idly swishing the wand back and forth.

   "Eight strokes, Mrs Reeves.  After all, someone must pay for that
unseemly outburst."

   "What?" I interrupted.  "Each of the girls were going to get only 4. 
Harriet should get no more than that."

   "It's 8.  Take it or I strap your clients back down over these stools."

   "This is illegal and you know it.  Don't push it." The reaction of
Klochek's two assistants had told me that Anna was way out of bounds.  It
may have been a bluff but it was a good one.

   Her eyes narrowed sharply.  Then she shrugged.  "Very well, 6, and it
stays in this room."

   Harriet raised her head slightly and nodded.  I looked at Anna Klochek.
"Done."

   She wasted no time.  Moving to Harriet's rear, she took a stance and
lined up the cane, tapping it gently against Harriet's nether cheeks. 
Harriet tensed at the sensation of the cane touching her bared seat.  Ms
Klochek raised her arm to shoulder level and whipped the cane down in a
blur.  It made a distinct whining sound before it impacted the crowns of
Harriet's buttocks with a sharp retort.  The fleshy mounds rippled and a
red line appeared.

   Harriet told me later that she had been totally unprepared for the
searing line of pure agony that that first swipe of the cane caused her. 
It felt like a white hot wire, she said, and the pain spread out from her
bottom to engulf her nervous system totally.

   When the stroke hit, Harriet's head flew back, her fingers splayed out,
and her whole body jerked at the shock.  Klochek stepped back, savoring the
moment.  Harriet had gasped sharply but had not cried out.  The blonde
matron paced, swishing the cane, waiting.  Harriet said later that this
must have been deliberate.  She knew how to time the strokes because the
pain actually peaked several seconds after the cane struck.  The skill in
timing was to catch the penitant just as the pain was subsiding, because
that was when the dread of the next one was starting to build.

   She took her stance again.  Swisshhh...thwack!  Harriet writhed.  A
second red line appeared.  30 seconds went by.  More pacing by Klochek.

   SWisshh...thwick!  "Arrhh...ah...ah.." Harriet fought to keep her
composure under the onslaught of stinging agony from the whippy cane.

   Erin and Allison looked on, horrified.  Three vivid weals spaced about
half an inch apart adorned Harriet's bare wriggling fanny.

   Sweee.....huick!  "Ahh....oh God, please...ah...ah.."

   "Beginning to feel it I see, Mrs Reeves." The blonde matron smiled.  She
was in her element.  "That's good.  I like to know that the message is
getting through."

   She lined up for another stinging cut.  Harriet jerked as she felt the
gentle tap-tap -tap, then...

   Ssswwwiiissshhh....thwack!  The hardest one yet, delivered with the full
force of Anna Klochek's arm.

   Harriet lost it.  "Yeeeowwww...arhhh....nnnhhh..." she shrieked.  A look
of triumph came over Anna Klochek's face.

   Klochek didn't rush the last one.  I sensed she wanted to savor it.  Her
obvious objective--the delivery of maximum pain within the strictures of
our little agreement.

   She planted her feet at Harriet's left side then raised the menacing
cane for the sixth time.

   Swiiissshhh....thwack!  Harriet's body jerked and she let out a
plaintive wail.  A sixth weal appeared.  Harriet sobbed, partly because of
the atrocious pain, partly in relief that the ordeal was over.  She could
not control the sobbing even as she was let up.  She had been whipped. 
Well and truly whipped in every sense of the word.

   ****************************************************************

   Later as we lay naked in Harriet's apartment, she would tell me that she
had never in her life felt anything that compared to the sheer agony that
she had endured that day.  It was like the cane burned through you, she
said, imprinting its fire on your brain.  It felt like the world consisted
of only two things...a cane and a bottom.  One to bring fire, the other to
endure it.

   I kissed the weals of course, and spread cold cream on her buttocks. 
Next I crouched behind her and stuck my tongue as far as it would go into
her musky sweetness.  I flicked the little bud over and over and ran my
tongue up and down the moistened slit.  She was curiously on the boil, well
juiced, as if the caning had awakened some primordial need for sex, as if
the pleasure could go on and on, obliterating the fire ignited by the kiss
of the cane.

   Then she rode me.  Too sore to be on her back, she teased my cock to a
hard upright erection with her mouth then with me on my back, she mounted
me.  She rode me like a wild woman, alternately upright bucking furiously
then lying on top gringing her hips, squeezing my erection like she wanted
to milk it dry.

   Later we lay spoon style on our sides and fucked slowly, torturously
slowly.  I tried to be careful not to press too hard on her wealed behind.
I gave her a languid shafting that gathered steam slowly.  The delicious
friction of my hard penis sliding in and out of her slickened vagina was
making us both deleirious with pleasure.  She wanted me to speed up.  I
resisted.  Our climaxes built like a slow moving freight train gathering
speed.  When neither of us could stand it any more, I let go.  So did she.
Later, still sore and unable to sit comfortably, she said that the sex we
had just had had been the most intense she could remember.

   "Still, I don't advise a full swinging bare butt caning as foreplay,"
she said as we stood, drinks in hand, on her veranda.  It was three days
later.  I had put Erin, Allison and Susan on a plane for Miami the evening
of the day they had been flogged.  They were only too happy to get off the
island.

   "What will you do now?" I said.  "Still want to stay down here?"

   "Despite all that happened, I still rather like it.  Do you want to stay
in dreary Ohio?"

   "You know, I could get used to this," I mused.  Pina colada in hand, sun
sinking into the ocean, gentle breezes wafting.  "Is this a proposition,
Mrs Reeves?"

   "It is.  And you can drop the Mrs."

   I told her I liked the sound of it.  Hand and Reeves, attys. 
Specialists in defending smacked bots of all stripes.  I told her it was
too bad her last name wasn't Crop or Kane or something.  I paid for that
last remark, but that's another story.