Darling Severest

By DJ Black

Andrea was late and that was bad, very bad. Still it wasn’t for the first time, although just like a dozen times before, she swore it would be her last. She knew now that that was another hollow promise. She took a deep breath and decided to brace herself for the inevitable. When she had first been recruited she used to make the rookie mistake of running and tumbling headlong into more trouble; as if rushing would somehow make her not late.

There were worse mistakes than arriving late and in an untidy mess, many very worse mistakes. She had learned the hard way that being well-presented and appropriately attired when one was, 25 minutes late or more was less of a crime than being three minutes late and hopelessly dishevelled. Submission was a given, style had to be worked at. At this thought she drew on a deep well of bravado and stopped in front of a shop window.

The figure looking back at her was petite but curvy. She had big brown eyes set beneath almost-straight just-off-the-shoulder chestnut brown hair. Her lips were full and almost at a permanent pout. The hair was still sharp, as was the tailored dark grey tight-fitting skirt suit. She half turned to consider her jutting behind filling out the smooth cloth just how She liked it. She would find fault, no doubt, but not for want of Andrea trying.

The butterflies in Andrea’s tummy would not settle and she was becoming almost nauseous. She worked up some moisture in her sandpaper-dry mouth and the steeled herself for her meeting.

A few people rushed by and for a moment the spell was broken. She was back in an ordinary city street with buses and prosaic hustle bustle. She invested in the scene a little to take the edge of her nerves, but she hated this ordinary world. Then the car pulled up and she was asked her name.

“Andrea Stokes,” she said in a confident crisp tone, it did not do to be seen as nervous. She might have added Personal Servant second class to Senior Directress Anna Darling, but those in service to the Regime did not explain such things to menials. This last thought made her blush. She would have reminded her that as a PS2 she had no right to think of herself as superior to anyone.

The driver barely spoke and invited her in with a nod and she slipped into the back of the car. Perhaps he too was employed by the Regime, she thought. Well he might be, she thought defensively trying to get back into character.

Think Regime, she chided herself as the car pulled away. She closed her eyes and pushed all thoughts of mundane streets away. When she opened them they were passing an anonymous wall of glass. Down a side street she glimpsed a row of pillories used for dissidents. Two of the pillories were occupied by naked women, both kneeling on stools so as to elevate their naked bottoms. The sight thrilled her and she licked her lips. One of the women was being soundly whipped and twisted under the onslaught of a trooper. Her companion had already been punished and hung her head in shame.

Once their very public chastisement was over they would left in the pillory for an allotted time and then the mechanism would release them. If they were lucky no one would have made off with their belongings and they were would not be too late getting to where they were supposed to be: if they were lucky. If not, they would have to get home naked before another trooper caught them and sent them for a night or two at a punishment centre.

Andrea wondered what crimes they had committed. Perhaps jaywalking or unsuitable attire, but most likely answering a trooper back when she took their names for such a petty crime. Unless, that is, they had previous misdemeanours against their name.  It could not be too serious though or else they would have been arrested, she thought. At least they were not treated as harshly as the men. Men without a pass were rounded up and sent to the mines or the military.

The car stopped in traffic and her tummy lurched. She was so late now it was all she could do not to vomit. She let herself see the street as more prosaic with untidy shops and buses, and then hastily berated herself for the weakness. She closed her eyes and controlled her breathing until the car was moving again.

When she opened them again she took in the scene of a full judicial public flogging. A nude woman secured naked over a block so that she was almost folded in half with her bared bottom uppermost before a large crowd. The lictor was thrashing her bare backside with a large birch rod so that scores of scores stained her flesh with raw grazes. The minimum sentence was usually 36 strokes, but it could be 48 or even more. The woman would not sit down for days and afterwards she could expect to be sentenced to penal service for a number of months or more.

Andrea was still considering this when the car stopped outside the glass and steel residential tower where Anna Darling had her apartment. As she got out of the car she kept her eyes down so as not to be distracted by anything that would make her break character. The Regime was real and she was its servant, she told herself with conviction.

***

The Directress’s door was cold hard and functional, much like the Regime she decided. There were no decorative features and the only feature other than the entry phone was the small plaque that carried the legend: Snr. Dir. Mistress A. Darling, MSc BA(Hons) RBS.dip. Andrea touched the button and waited.

“You are late,” Anna’s said through the speaker as the door opened. Her tones were clipped and clear.

Andrea remained impassive as she entered. “Sorry Mistress Darling,” she said as she came to attention and proffered a quick bow from the neck.

The Directress sat in a huge semi-circular chair that swivelled to face Andrea as she entered. The woman herself was Afro-Asian with dark skin and jet black hair swept back into a business-like plait to her shoulder blades. Standing up she would be a head taller than Andrea and carried herself with a delicate athletic build. “Am I going to hear any excuses today?” she asked.

“No Ma’am,” Andrea said firmly.

“Why are you late?” the Directress purred as if she didn’t really care.

“There was a small delay with the transit system and I carelessly failed to allow for any redundancy in journey time Ma’am,” the younger woman told her as neutrally as she could.

“I see,” Anna sighed and made a dismissive gesture with her fingers. “You will be punished for that too.”

Andrea felt her heart race and her throat constricted. “That too?” she ventured. What else have I done? She wondered with a surge of panic.

Anna swung her chair back to her desk and pondered a tablet screen. “Get me a drink,” she said absently.

“Yes Ma’am,” Andrea agreed quickly and moved to obey.

The ice made a shack sound as she dropped it into the glass and Andrea almost startled at the sound. Her mouth was as dry as the gin as she wracked her brains trying to remember what she might have done. As she added a slice of lime she glanced at Anna for some clue as to her failing, but the Directress was still reading her tablet. She poured the gin and tonic together over the ice making it crack and then heft the glass until the slice of lime took on a pleasing angle, the ice clacking together.

Then without a word she put the drink on the desk next to Anna.

“Thank you,” Mistress Darling spoke distractedly.

“Is that… is that about me?” Andrea asked meekly, indicating the tablet with only her eyes.

Anna Darling paused and frowned as she half glared at Andrea with a look halfway between confusion and disgust. “No? Why would it be about you?” she said incredulously.

Andrea shook her head in consternation and spluttered, “N-no, no of course not, I…”

“Just get undressed and go and stand in the corner,” the Directress absently told her as she turned her attention back to the tablet.

“Undressed…?” Andrea gaped. The Directress did not elaborate or appear to hear the muttered question.

For being late she would usually get a spanking. That meant jacket off and either trousers down or skirts up. An over-the-knee affair that could last 30 or 40 minutes or more; an administered spanking where a hairbrush or short paddle would be applied to her bare bottom until she was a sobbing mess. Corner time always followed regardless of who was present or who might turn up.

Andrea moved away into the room and unbuttoned her tailored jacket. In one of the drawers she found a hanger, which she used first to hang the jacket and then once removed her skirt. Now she stood in blouse and underwear that included visible suspended stockings.

“Just the panties,” Anna told her, “Take them off.”

Andrea took a long slow breath and then slipped down her underwear to expose a pert tight bare bottom and a generous but trimmed dark bush in front. She licked her lips and regarded the usual corner with a miserable sigh. The Directress seemed to be busy with something, which usually meant she could be distracted for hours. This could be a long embarrassing wait, she groaned inwardly. This was not unusual but it was something she had never got used to. At least the humiliation and nervous wait would keep her from getting bored.

Anna watched her young servant trudge dejectedly to the corner and felt a thrilling tingle as she admired the curve of her bottom. She would much rather give the girl her undivided attention but the e-missives demanded immediate consideration. She rolled her eyes. This could be a long afternoon for both of them.

***

Andrea shifted her weight from one hip to the other, an almost imperceptible movement learnt from long practice so she could suffer the time out without appearing to fidget. Her mouth was dry and she began thinking about the toilet, Anna had been ages now and Andrea still had no idea what she had done, apart from being late that was. The chill of air caressed her bare bum causing the skin to tighten and feel even more exposed. She was ever conscious of the jut of her nude bottom advantageously displayed to anyone who happened to be in the room. So far that was only Anna reading her mail.

“What did you tell Catherine Denbigh?” Anna said suddenly.

Andrea startled and almost turned around. For a moment she thought she might sway or stumble. “Ma’am?” she replied.

“Denbigh, the party invite, what did you say on my behalf, I mean I assume you replied, even if you did not pass on her invitation… to me?” The words began casually and ended in menace.

“Eh…?” Andrea wracked her brains before she remembered and winced.

“Errr,” Anna mocked.

“I forgot,” the humbled girl agreed, to say a sinking feeling was an understatement; Andrea had just fallen into a well.

“Forgot, is that all? It’s nice to know why you look like an idiot to friends and colleagues, you forgot,” Anna shrugged with a dismissive sneer reminiscent of a facial French ‘why of course.’ Not that Andrea could see anything but the wall.

“Sorry,” Andrea offered.

“Don’t worry about it, no really,” Anna said lightly, “I sorted out the mess and blamed her assistant. It doesn’t matter, does it? I mean I presume neither of you needed your bottoms for a week or two.” 

Andrea made an audible breath somewhere between a sigh and a gasp.

“After we deal with your tardiness we are going to have a very long talk about this failure,” Anna told her. “It should be fun, for me that is, for you… well oh dear.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Andrea said and worked some moisture in her mouth. Not too bad, she thought.

“Then,” Anna continued, “On Saturday I have made an appointment for you to visit Rosalind…”

Andrea’s eyes flew open in shock and she could not help turn her head. “Please…” she wailed.

“No, no, not at all, don’t thank me,” Anna said pleasantly, “It is the least I can do, and besides I think it is necessary.”

Tears pooled at Andrea’s eyes and she opened her mouth to protest. “I won’t be late again,” she said lamely.

“Oh you will be, you can’t help that, but what is that to do with it? Bloody Catherine Denbigh will be laughing at me for months over this,” Anna hissed. It was unlike her to show her temper.

“I know but…” Andrea blurted.

“So on Saturday you will report to Rosalind at 8am and she will dismiss you by 8am Monday morning.” Anna sounded measured and matter-of-fact again.

“Ma’am please, please, I…” Andrea’s mind raced, there was no way out. She even tried to let the ordinary world in but she could only see the wall in front of her and the Regime’s justice.

“I was thinking about demoting you to drudge-scullion for six months or so, but you still have your uses. However, I warn you, if you screw up again this year, you will be spending your next few two-week holidays as a drudge-scullion and housemaid to Rosalind… unrestricted mind you.” Anna promised.

Unrestricted was usually reserved for Anna alone. When she was loaned out or sent for outside discipline there were limits. Rosalind was an enforcer, an unrelenting disciplinarian and a sadist.

“Please Anna, I will do anything,” Andrea begged, she broke character somewhat in using her mistresses first name.

“Andrea, turn around,” Anna said breathily.

Andrea obeyed, now panting and looking about to cry. She licked her lips nervously as she struggled to meet Anna’s gaze.

Her mistress leaned in and whispered, “I know, I know you will do anything, actually I am very proud of you.”

Andrea nodded vigorously, suddenly thrilled and buoyed up by these few kind words.

“Now listen to me, what I want you to do is to report to Rosalind on Saturday and accept your punishment,” Anna stood back and regarded her employee-servant intently.

Andrea nodded and now crying openly a little she said in resignation, “Yes Ma’am.”

“Good girl,” Anna smiled. “Now I am going to put you across my knee and give you a long, long sound spanking.”

***

Andrea had expected this, her nose just a few inches from the carpet, her bare bottom elevated towards the ceiling and Anna striking her naked behind with a moderately heavy leather paddle. Her right arm had been pushed up her back to pin her while she used her left to support her posture. It was a well-practiced position and one that got results.

Already her bottom burned a deep shade of red while Anna spanked her with regular sweeping swats landing stinging crack after thwack as Andrea tried to keep still. Each spank forced a hiss through the punished woman’s gritted teeth as she rode the burn.

“This is for being late,” Anna told her assistant as she continued to spank her.

“Yes Ma’am,” Andrea groaned as she tried to bear it. She wasn’t crying now, the burn wasn’t enough, not yet, but back when they started this she would have been bawling by now, begging through copious sobbing for some respite. Such weakness had been punished of course, spanked out of her over and over. These days the release of tears was hard won or else only gained by sterner measures.

“You are a servant of the Regime, my servant,” Anna told her, “You must do better, much better,” she loved this part and licked her lips as she scanned the heavy red ovals that stained Andrea’s bared bottom. There was a little rise of flesh between the spanked soreness and the unspanked whiteness, a contrast she would invest in for some time to come.

“Yes, yes,” Andrea panted, there was no other world now, the ordinariness had been banished. Outside she knew 10,000 other young women were being spanked for small failings and rightly so. Others still were being caned or whipped until all hope of sitting was banished for weeks. “Please… I am so sorry.”

“Shush,” Anna soothed as she paused and scraped a fingernail across the exposed sore bottom, “You are not sorry, not yet.”

Tears pooled in Andrea’s eyes again as she braced herself, the spanking resumed and she let out a small pained grunt. This time Anna spanked her soundly for another 15 minutes before she paused again.

Both women were breathing heavily and Andrea’s free flowing tears were not the only silent rain in the room.

“You are enjoying this far too much,” Anna said putting down the paddle. Andrea’s bottom was a deep shiny tomato red with ovular circles exactly describing her lower curves and the tender areas where she usually sat.

The spanked woman shook her head in denial.

“Such a liar,” Anna chuckled, “Get up and go and stand in the corner again.”

Andrea was on all fours and panting like a dog. Her bottom was on fire and she was unable to stand. She barely managed to nod in obedience.

Anna tried to remain composed and sat very still in case she yielded to an erotic explosion. “Corner, now,” she rasped.

Andrea crawled part way until she struggled to her feet and took up position. Only then did Anna feel able to enjoy the view without triggering an unseemly reaction.

“Stay there for now,” Anna told her, “I still have to cane you for your failure.”

“But Rosalind… I thought?” Andrea wailed.

“Oh that’s the main consequence, but I am giving you something on account,” a now composed Anna told her. “That reminds me I had better call Rosalind to make you an appointment.”

“About that… can’t I… it’s just…” Andrea knew protests were futile.

“Be quiet, you know you deserve it and it will do you good,” Anna said sharply, “And yes I know Rosalind’s methods…” whispering to herself, “All too well.”

***

Andrea made a sour pout when Anna called her from the corner. It wasn’t that she didn’t deserve the cane, and she would far rather be punished by Anna than Rosalind. But the very idea of visiting Rosalind had her fighting down a surge of panic. She remembered well her first and only experience with the woman back when she was first trained. That had been for one afternoon and there had been another girl there to share the misery. Even now she sometimes woke up seating at the memory. A nightmare, she always swore to herself, but she knew in her heart that wasn’t what she thought about. She pushed aside all thoughts here of the Void.

“Come on, I want you bending over the back of the couch,” Anna already had a long thin cane in hand and was testing it with absent air strokes.

The thin one meant a long session, Andrea knew she was going to cry and try not to beg; Anna did not allow begging. Andrea worked some moisture up in her mouth. Futile begging was always so fulfilling, not that she would ever admit it; accepting and enjoying futility smacked to much of the Void.

Anna tapped the padding on the back fold of the couch. “Over you go,” she commanded.

Andrea kept her eyes downcast as she obeyed.

“What are you thinking?” Anna asked as she watched the girl shuffle her hips to present her bare bottom to its best punitive advantage.

“I can’t explain,” Andrea whispered, “I need this, sometimes too much…”

“You are really for it this time… but I won’t give you more than you can handle,” Anna promised.

Andrea hated Anna being nice. “I know,” she said. Thinking, I need more than I can handle and more than that, much more. She thought about the Void and being lost in the submission to it. “But you can.”

Anna nodded.

“Ma’am?” Andrea said once she was finally in position with her naked behind poised to accept its due, “Do you ever fear the Void?”

Anna’s heart lurched and she felt ice in her stomach. “What are you talking about?” she said angrily. Andrea had just named what she had always feared.

“Nothing,” Andrea said, “I didn’t mean to speak aloud.”

“Be quiet,” Anna growled and slashed the cane across the girl’s bare bottom. “I might damn well give you 100 strokes.” She caned the proffered bare bottom again.

Andrea yelped and then squirmed some.

Fifty, Anna thought, 50 will be enough, won’t it? She was rattled and remembered Rosalind and certain weekend not so long ago. She shook her head in denial. I hold the whip hand, she asserted firmly to herself.

“Twice 25 but if you beg we start over,” Anna said caning the girl again.

Andrea yelled in surprise and without counting Ana caned her rapidly and with glee. A minute later she asked, “How many is that?”

Andrea was lost in tears and did not hear the question.

“How many?” Anna snarled.

Andrea sniffed and shook her head.

“Call that one,” Anna barked and caned her again.

Andrea groaned. “Yes Ma’am,” she sobbed. It was going to be a very long afternoon.