A Turn of Fortune

Speechless with shock, Jane couldn't stop herself shaking; but at last, she blurted out that she knew nothing about the brooch being in her drawer. To her further dismay, PC Stone flicked out a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and clamped them onto Jane's wrists. White-faced and crying, she was led from the room down the stairs and out to the backyard. At that moment a horse and trap drew up containing the Police Inspector in charge of the local station, who congratulated the Constable on his good work. She was roughly pushed into the trap, and still in shock conveyed to the local police station where she was locked up in a small, dirty cell containing just a grubby blanket and a bucket.

An hour later she was dragged from the cell and taken to an interview room, where a rather gruff, middle-aged Sergeant read her the charge that she had stolen a brooch valued at £1,000, and asked her if had she anything to say. Jane shook her head and was escorted back to her cell where she stayed the rest of the morning.

At lunchtime, she was given a bowl of watery soup and informed that Sir Rupert Downs, the Magistrate, had just arrived and that she would shortly be taken over to the Courthouse to 'face the music. A little later she was once again taken from her cell, this time by the big Sergeant, and led through a back door into the Courthouse which stood next to the police station. The courtroom she was taken to was bleak and cold, and shivering since she was wearing just a thin dress, Jane was put into the small dock. After a few minutes, a tall, elderly man in a frock coat appeared whom she correctly assumed was the Magistrate. Taking his seat at the Bench he peered at Jane over the top of his spectacles, and addressing the Clerk of the Court, a scruffy, middle-aged man who had seated himself at a desk in front of the Magistrate's Bench, he asked if they might proceed. Then the Magistrate glared at Jane.

"This is an abominable crime", he hissed. "You, girl, have broken the trust your employer placed in you. What came over you I don't know, but there is only one way to treat thieves and that is harsh!"

Jane was shocked that it was assumed she was guilty, and seemingly she would have no proper trial. The Clerk looked at Jane.

"How do you plead, prisoner?" he barked.

Before Jane could answer the Magistrate added:

"I should think long and hard about your answer, girl: you were caught in possession of stolen goods. If you plead not guilty you will put this Court to extra work, and this will not be forgotten when you come to be sentenced."

Jane swallowed - she got the message.

"Then I plead guilty, Sir," she said.

The Magistrate smiled, then shuffled his papers and fixed Jane with a scowl.

"I have got to send out a message to other maids who might think they can get away with this sort of crime. That being the case you will be birched, eighteen strokes, and serve two years in the local penitentiary."

The Clerk, red-faced, scurried up to the Magistrate's bench and whispered something to Sir Rupert.

"Too old for birching?" the Magistrate snapped. "Fiddle-sticks! There must be a mistake about her age. Yes...yes! she's not thirty but twenty, I'm sure."

He addressed Jane.

"An error on my part: due to your age you will receive a birching and one year's reformatory training. You are twenty, aren't you...?"

Jane sighed, the old gentleman obviously wanted her to receive a thrashing, and at least her sentence would be reduced to a year.

"Yes, Sir, I'm twenty."

The Magistrate beamed and addressed the Sergeant.

"Capital! I think the girl can be taken to the punishment room: get her stripped down and I will be along in a moment."

Taking Jane by the arm, the Sergeant roughly pulled her down the slippery, wet steps to a damp basement room below the courthouse. A small, half-circle window at ground level with opaque glass was the only illumination. In the center of the large room stood a leather-topped birching horse, with leather retaining straps hanging from the wooden legs. Jane was ordered to remove all her clothing and terrified she quickly complied until she stood shivering and naked. She was then instructed by the policeman to bend right over the horse and she was pushed down hard, her breasts squashing against the cold leather. Her wrists and ankles were secured in leather cuffs which were attached to the ends of the straps on the legs of the horse. Another long, wide, leather strap was fitted over her body and pulled tight, squashing her down immovably over the horse. And to add to her humiliation, she found that her legs had been pulled wide apart from the thighs downwards by the straps fitted to her ankles.

"The governor likes to have a nice display of pussy!" the Sergeant quipped.

The policeman's large palm slapped Jane hard between her legs, but before she could cry out a wooden block was thrust into her mouth, gagging her. Behind her she heard a male voice, which she recognized as that of the Magistrate, Sir Rupert, talking to the policeman.

"Well done, Sergeant."

The Sergeant replied that he would go and fetch the birch rods, and Jane flinched as she felt the Magistrate's hand rub her bare buttocks. Suddenly she felt two hard slaps, one to each cheek.

"A lovely arse you have, girl!" the man purred. "I'm going to be a regular visitor to the reformatory. I can promise you a very sore time: your rump's going to be in demand!"

Jane screamed into the gag as the cheeks of her bottom were forced apart, and several fingers were pushed deep into her pussy.

"I think you are enjoying this, tart, you are wringing wet," the Magistrate purred again.

At that moment the Sergeant returned carrying a large metal bucket half full of water and containing two or three fresh birch rods. He had stripped down to his vest.

The Magistrate pointed out the wheals on Jane's rump from her recent caning.

"We have a bad girl here, Sergeant, she's no stranger to the rod as you can see: make sure you lay on the strokes hard, she's got to really feel it!"

The Magistrate seated himself where he could see Jane's face. The policeman grabbed Jane's hair and pulled her head up until she was facing the Magistrate.

"Keep your eyes on Sir Rupert's face. If he says you are looking elsewhere you get the last stroke again," he hissed and taking a birch rod from the bucket he carefully shook the water droplets onto the floor. Then he positioned himself slightly behind the flogging bench, to the side of Jane's quivering bottom, and breathing in deeply he lashed the birch down hard across her bare buttocks, causing her to frantically clench and unclench them. Her white skin immediately showed flecks of blood amongst the red scratches.

Sir Rupert laughed.

"That one was a scorcher Sergeant, a few more like that please."

"She's clenching already, Sir!" the Sergeant grimaced.

A smug look crossed the Magistrate's face.

"We know buttock-clenching earns extras, Sergeant. An extra two this time, but if it happens again an extra dozen!"

Jane bit down hard on the wood in her mouth. Already these swine were going to give her twenty-one cuts of the birch, but before she had a chance to prepare herself for the next stroke it had lashed down across the tops of her tender thighs just where they met her buttocks. The appalling pain was too much for her and she struggled in her restraints. Her buttocks throbbed and she gave a sob. Sir Rupert smiled and called out to the police officer.

"I believe the minx misbehaved again, Sergeant!"

The Sergeant licked his dry lips and replied.

"You be right, Sir...an extra dozen it is then."

Sir Rupert called back.

"Yes, another dozen-plus of course three: I believe she has thirty-five strokes due now.

At that moment the door burst open and a Police Inspector entered the room, followed closely by a tall, handsome man of about Jane's age. The Police Inspector spoke urgently to the Magistrate, introducing him to the stranger who was in fact Mr. Seal, her new employer, and through her haze of pain Jane immediately recognized him from his visits to Farley Hall to witness the punishments of her charges there. She caught the words "a miscarriage of justice" from his conversation with the Magistrate.

The Sergeant was brusquely told to release her, and in a short time, she found herself standing shakily. Then quickly a blanket was produced and wrapped around her to cover her nakedness. Embarrassed by her state, Jane blushed.

Mr. Seal quietly spoke to her, introducing himself as her new employer, and saying that he didn't know how she would ever forgive him for not discovering sooner that the Housekeeper had fabricated evidence against her. It turned out that Mr. Seal had only that day returned from a business trip and heard about the supposed theft of his wife's brooch by Jane. After investigating the case himself, he discovered that not only had his wife seen Miss Browning enter her room, but had also seen her going into Jane's bedroom immediately afterward. He had confronted the Housekeeper and she had broken down and admitted her guilt, saying that she was jealous of Jane and wanted her out of the way.

Chpter Four

An hour later, accompanied by Mr. Seal, Jane returned to Seal House. When they had arrived, she begged her employer not to prosecute the Housekeeper but asked if instead it could be arranged that Miss Browning suffer the indignity of a very severe birching in the punishment room at the Courthouse. Mr. Seal smiled and said that he was sure that this would be possible since he and the Magistrate were good friends. And moreover, Miss Browning would be terrified of going to prison and would jump at any chance of avoiding it. She would, however, cease to be Housekeeper and would replace Daisey as a humble scullery maid.

"And when she returns after her birching, I would like the opportunity to discipline her myself, just to reinforce the lesson. I do believe she has a suitable cane in her office," Jane murmured with a smile.

Mr. Seal grinned.

"I have a longer and thicker cane up in the schoolroom: shall I fetch it?" he suggested.

The information that not only was there a schoolroom on the top floor but also that it contained a cane was news to Jane, and sensing something in Mr. Seal's tone of voice Jane said that she would like to come with him.

Looking surprised, Mr. Seal led the way up two flights of stairs until they entered the large loft room which covered the entire top floor of the house. A teacher's desk stood in front of a window, in front were four desks and chairs and to one side was a high, padded stool. Jane smiled as she saw a long cane hung over the old-fashioned blackboard, and taking it down she bent it in her slender fingers, then swished it through the air. She turned to Mr.Seal.

"How sorry are you about what happened to me?" she purred.

To her delight, his face turned pink and he stuttered out a reply.

"Very sorry, Miss Seymour."

Jane lashed the cane down hard on the padded top of the stool and made eye contact with Mr. Seal.

"Let's see, shall we..." she purred again.

Again she brought the cane down smartly on the top of the stool, and this time she snapped at him.

"What are you waiting for, boy, trousers and underpants down and get over the stool: I want your bare bottom up nice and tight for my cane!"

For a second Mr. Seal stood mouth open and trembling, and then to Jane's delight and relief he quickly removed his trousers and underpants and positioned himself over the stool. Jane moved forward and gently ran her palm over the well-muscled buttocks, and her slender fingers pushed between his thighs and squeezed his testicles. Smiling to herself, she now knew why Mr. Seal had been so interested in seeing the boys punished! Tapping his bottom with the cane she caused him to flinch, and then raising the cane high in the air she brought it down with a fearsome swish. The rod wrapped around his quivering bum cheeks.

SWISHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!

His hands moved as if to cover his rump. She tapped one of his hands with her cane.

"Don't do that! If you attempt to cover yourself again I will give you extra strokes," she said, quietly but threateningly. It was obvious that Mr. Seal had not been caned for a long time. Jane had no intention of spoiling things, and her next stroke, although a wristy cut across the back of his thighs, was nothing like as hard as the first stroke.

SWISHHHHHHHHHHHHH...CRACKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!

A plaintive cry came from Mr. Seal, and he whimpered that he couldn't take any more punishment. Jane wondered if she had misread the signs and decided to change tack. After taking the cane and replacing it on the blackboard she turned to him.

"I feel I'm being a little too hard on you. Perhaps a smacked bottom might be more in order. Stand up!"

Red-faced, Mr. Seal stood up and to Jane's surprise, his face was wet with tears. Taking the teacher's chair she placed it in the middle of the room and seated herself, then beckoned the man over. Mr. Seal walked towards Jane and stood in front of her, making sure he had the front of his shirt pulled down to cover his genitals. Still red-faced, he avoided eye contact. Jane reached forward and lifted the front of his shirt up after pushing away his hands, and then tucked it up leaving him naked from the waist down. To her amusement his penis was hard. She looked up at him with what she hoped was a stern expression.

"And what is the meaning of this display, boy?" she asked.

Jane felt quite sorry for the man, acutely embarrassed as he was. Without further ado she pulled him over her knees, smiling as she felt his erect penis on her thighs. She was surprised at how badly the cane had marked his bottom. Rolling up her right sleeve she began to spank him hard.

SMACKKKKKKKKK!!!!

SMACKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!

SMACKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!

SMACKKKKKKKK!!!!

SMACKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!

After several minutes his bottom was rosy red and smiling she whispered in his ear for him to stand up. She gently helped him to rise, then standing in front of him she went up on tiptoes and kissed him hard on the mouth.

"We've both got sore bottoms now; if you rub cream on mine I'll do the same for you!" she quipped, giggling softly.

She slid an arm behind him and rubbed his bottom, then gently took his genitals in her other hand. Taking her hand he led her into a small side room which she hadn't noticed before. In it was a small bed, and after taking her clothes off she lay naked on the bed. Mr. Seal came down on her. Time and time again he thrust his penis so deep into her that it took her breath away. She knew she'd be sore from his rough lovemaking but she didn't care. Half an hour later they lay side by side, and he looked fondly down at her.

"I deserved a caning from you but I didn't know it would be that painful!" he whispered.

Jane, looking stern, replied.

"Next time I will not be so lenient: I will give you a caning you will long remember."

Later, following a visit by Mr. Seal to his friend the Magistrate accompanied by a very subdued Miss Browning, a very severe birching was arranged for the latter.

Very soon afterward, the big Police Sergeant found himself surveying a most voluptuous, naked female backside, its owner strapped very tightly over the birching horse in the punishment room of the now dark courthouse. It wasn't quite as firm or young as the last one he had dealt with, but was plump and meaty and would take a good thrashing. Patting the crisp £5 note in his back pocket, he wished he had more private jobs like this one. He'd promised the gentleman he'd thrash her bloody raw, and that's what he'd do: he never knew when he might next get more private work thrashing other female miscreants.

Also, he hadn't been able to pleasure himself with the last female. Neither the prison nor reformatory authorities complained when he gave a prisoner a good, hard cocking following a birching, and this one he was going to ream good and hard. From his pocket he produced a short but quite thick piece of freshly peeled ginger root which he had carefully selected and prepared, turning it into what was known as a 'fig' by the birching fraternity.

"Let's see how your arse likes the taste of this fig!" he said in a mocking tone.

Smiling, he inserted it carefully through the woman's tightly puckered bottom hole, and she screamed into her gag as he pushed it deep into her rectum leaving just the end protruding, secured by a groove he had carved around it, into which the woman's tight little anus fitted snugly, preventing the ginger fig from being sucked completely into her rectum. Then, selecting a birch from the bucket, he cocked his elbow, drew back his right arm, and prepared to deliver the first stroke. The birch swished loudly through the air and thudded into Miss Browning's naked arse, sending as it landed ripples of flesh moving like tiny waves across its sumptuous expanse. She emitted the first agonized but muffled scream: it was the first of very many to come.

A good half an hour later he had finished what had been a lengthy and very thorough birching, punctuated by agonized grunts, muffled screams, and sobs from the woman through her wooden gag.

He wiped the sweat from his brow. The woman's arse had certainly been well flayed, and was now completely covered in thin, red, raised welts, some of which were oozing small, bright, crimson droplets. He returned the thoroughly frayed and splintered birch rod to its bucket, where it joined two of its companions which he had also worn out during the birching.

The birching had been one of the hardest he had ever administered, and the, bright scarlet bottom trembling before his eyes seemed almost to illuminate the dark punishment room. Miss Browning was sobbing loudly and uncontrollably. No unmarked flesh was visible from the top of the cleft in her ravaged buttocks to the upper margins of her thighs. She had totally lost control of her bladder, and the stink of urine was strong in the room. He fetched a mop from the corner of the room and cleaned up the large puddle of piss that had gathered under his victim's widely parted legs. He then fetched a piece of cloth and roughly, but very thoroughly, dried off Miss Browning between her quivering legs, then threw the cloth into the bucket with the birches. Next he took off the wide, black leather belt holding up his trousers and threw it on the floor, pulling his trousers down to his ankles along with his underpants.

He approached the former Housekeeper, now a humble scullery maid parted with his large hands the plump, crimson, blood-specked bottoms of the cheeks of her buttocks, and then none too gently slid his stiffly erect penis into her pussy. Ramming his cock hard and deep into her caused the Housekeeper to scream into the wooden gag, and as his thighs smacked rhythmically against her raw, swollen bum cheeks she grunted despairingly.

After a couple of minutes, he pulled out of her pussy, then prised the fig from her arsehole, threw it into the bucket with the birches and the used cloth, and thrust his huge, thick, and still rampant penis deep inside her bottom in its place. Originally he had only done this with women of child-bearing age in order to avoid possible future difficulties, but since then he had acquired a taste for it, and it had become the normal culmination of his birching of all-female miscreants. She howled out loud in agony, finally succeeding in spitting out her well-chewed and now broken wooden gag, as he vigorously reamed her most private place.

"Mmmm... very nice and tight," he said to himself. "Bit stingy from the left-over fig juices though, but then I quite like that!"

With that he came almost immediately, spilling a copious amount of seed into the wretched woman's burning rectum. Thoroughly broken in spirit, she didn't even notice when he had finished. Miss Browning's birching and its completely humiliating aftermath were finally over.