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"Mr Josh Meadows, you have been tried by a jury of your peers and deemed to be guilty of the charges brought against you - namely, 3 counts of racially aggravated grievous bodily harm, 6 counts of racially aggravated actual bodily harm, 2 counts of racially aggravated damage, 17 counts of racially aggravated provocation of violence and intentional distress and 32 separate counts of racially aggravated harassment and/or stalking involving fear of violence of serious alarm or distress. "There is also the matter of your extensive breaches of sections 17-29 of the Public Order Act 1986, those with regards to incitement to racial hatred, which prove so numerous that if I were to read them all out we may be here the best part of the afternoon. "In light of the evidence shown here today and the verdict of the jury, I hereby sentence you to 28 years in prison. Due to the nature of your offences this may yet be increased upon review at tribunal as permitted by Section 145 of the Criminal Justice Act 2003. Case dismissed." 6 MONTHS LATER... Monday 3rd March 2020; 11:18. Prison's shit. Life's shit. The whole world's shit. The fucking stupid judges and jury hadn't a fucking clue what they were talking about. Yeah, it wasn't as if I denied doing what they said I did, but 28 years in prison just for teaching some shitting niggers what I thought about them?! It's like it's not our own fucking country anymore. 18 years old and locked up until I'm nearly 50 all because some black bastards needing some sense beating into them? Fucking ridiculous. More than half of the guys in prison in England are black, anyway, which tells you all you need to know about them and their violent, thuggish ways. And they're putting me in here with the likes of them?! It's a fucking joke, man, a fucking joke, that's what it is. They tried putting me in with them at first - that went well, didn't it? Stupid fucking pigs, did they think we'd all play nicely together? Get on? Course we were going to beat the shit out of one another day and night. And of course they blame me for that, don't they? 'Racially aggravated' my fucking arse! So yeah, solitary - again. Telling me they're going to extend my prison time - again. Fine by me - I've got nothing waiting for me on the outside, and I'm happy beating the crap out of the black bastards they keep putting in here. My corrections officer Jim said he was giving up on me. Giving me to someone else, some fancy sounding bird that ran some stupid fucking scheme for 'problem inmates' - that's me. At least she'd probably look a right sight easier on the eyes than Jim, even if she was a fat arsed cow. Supposed to be meeting her today, apparently, if the idiots remember to come get me from solitary - unlike last time. Monday 3rd March 2020; 14:01. Well, she wasn't a fat arsed cow. Bit thin and spiky but a decent pair of tits and a tight arse - definitely better than Jim, definitely material for the spank bank later. Blonde hair in a ponytail, bright blue eyes, porcelain skin - and from where I sat slumped in the comfy chair across the desk, with her leaning forwards and adjusting her glasses to look at my notes, I had a proper good view down her white shirt so I wasn't complaining. "Josh - can I call you Josh?" she finally began, looking up from the notes and flashing me a pleasant smile. "Call me what you want, darling," I grinned back at her, and her smile faltered. "Okay, Josh. In which case I'd like you to address me as Miss Stevens, or just Miss, please. Not 'darling', or anything like that, or I'll transfer you back to Mr Carter," she spoke calmly yet firmly. "Mr Carter?! Who the fuck's he? Why should I give a fuck about who gets to tell me what a shit life I've got once a week?" I snorted. "Mr James Carter?" the stuck-up bitch asked, looking over her glasses at me with her piercing blue eyes. "Your previous corrections officer?" "Oh, Jim-" I began, but she cut me off. "And I must inform you I will not tolerate swearing or any other foul language, do you understand me, Josh? You should care, Josh, because if you agree to follow my advice and strictly adhere to the rules of my rehabilitation scheme, I promise you I can have you out of this prison in 1 year, not 28, and out living your life as a new, reformed person before you know it." Miss Stevens paused, letting her words hang in the air for a moment. "Yeah, right - well that's a load of crap, isn't it?" I scoffed in response, slouching further down into the chair. "Right," Miss Stevens said, closing my notes and standing up, adjusting her black pencil skirt before gesturing to the door, "then you can leave, Mr Meadows, and I hope you thoroughly enjoy spending the rest of your life behind bars." "Wait, wait, wait, you moody cow!" I called back, waving my hands up in the air. "I didn't say I wasn't interested, just that I thought it was a load of crap! If your scheme's so great why isn't everyone out and living free?" "...because obnoxious, misguided boys like you can't behave themselves for 5 minutes and end up throwing away an opportunity of a lifetime. What have I just said about calling me Miss Stevens, or Miss, and not swearing or using foul language? Choose your next words carefully, Mr Meadows." Miss Stevens warned, her tone frosty and sending shivers down my spine. "Right," I began, taking a deep breath to pause for thought, "all I'm trying to say, Miss, is that if you say you can get me out in a year I'm all for it, but I just don't think it's going to work. You said it yourself, I'm in for 28 years at least - there's no way they're letting me go in a year." There was a pregnant pause as Miss Meadows glared down at me, like a cat watching its prey, then she slid elegantly back down into her seat, re-opened my notes, and looked back up at me with the same pleasant smile she'd started with earlier. "I guarantee it," she said, raising a finger into the air like a schoolteacher asking for quiet. "One year. If - and this is only if - you follow every step of my rehabilitation scheme and engage with me to the fullest. If you break one rule, disobey one bit of advice, disrespect me or this establishment, or show any hint of reverting to your old ways, it's over - which essentially means any hope of having a 'free life' again is over. Now I know you're only 18 - it can be hard to comprehend just how long a life behind bars will feel - but I assure you it's not something you want. You want to get out of prison and stay out, don't you? Then you need to listen to me." "Yeah, okay," I shrugged, trying not to laugh at how stern and strict Miss Stevens was acting. Not even the judge at my sentencing had seemed so full of righteousness. "So what do you want me to do?" Miss Stevens smiled and leaned forwards, steepling her fingers and resting her chin on her neatly manicured nails. "Well, I obviously hadn't planned on us getting off on quite so disagreeable. I had hoped that this first session would just be a bit about getting to know you, Josh, but before we can dive into that we need to clear the air, make a fresh start, don't you agree?" I forced myself not to roll my eyes and simply opted to nod. "Wonderful! I'm so glad we're on the same page. Now, if I counted correctly you used unpleasant language 5 times and insulted me twice - that makes 7 strokes, okay?" "7 strokes of what?" I asked, my brow furrowing. "Your bottom!" Miss Stevens beamed. "Bad behaviour from naughty boys needs disciplining, and I've always found the most effective way is some good, old fashioned, bare bottom spanking." She pushed her chair out and stood up, pointing over to the sofa up against the wall. "Come on, I'll sit down and you can bend over my knee." "What... the fucking hell-?!" I began, but the mad bitch interrupted me again. "8," she said calmly, her slasher smile ever fixed. "You're mental, you psycho bitch!" I shouted, getting to my feet. It caught me slightly off guard that even now she was still taller than me by a fair bit, but I tried to shake it from my mind. She was probably wearing heels. "9, 10..." I stormed across to the door, cheeks red with anger, and my hand was on the doorknob when I heard her say: "Oh come now, Josh - is your pride really worth your freedom? You won't just accept you need your bottom spanked? You won't accept 10 quick slaps - in private, where no-one but you and I will know? Take a deep breath, calm down, and answer me honestly - do you really want to end up spending the rest of your life in prison living with the knowledge that you could be out, living free and happy, if you'd just got over yourself and let me give you a well-deserved spanking?" I paused, my breathing heavy and my heart beating fiercely in my chest. The bright flush of anger raging in my cheeks dimmed briefly, then re- ignited with the flush of embarrassment instead. I took my hand off the doorknob. I stood, hands clenching and unclenching, as I stared at the frosted glass pane of the door, seeing the blurred outlines of the prison guards outside, who I knew would burst in and try to apprehend me if I did anything silly. Groaning, I turned back around and saw Miss Stevens, sat smartly on the sofa, still smiling that calm, infuriating grin. She was wearing heels, as well. She caught my eye, and patted her lap encouragingly. "There's a good boy, Josh. Come on now, let's not be silly about this. Bend over my knee, accept your punishment, then I'll make us a nice cup of tea and we can chat about you, okay?" Blushing fiercely, I stepped across the room with the speed of a sedated, disabled snail, before finally reaching the edge of the sofa. I knew I wasn't the biggest guy - we'd never been able to afford lots of food growing up and the prison doctor had said I was 'malnourished and underweight' when I'd arrived here - but I'd never thought of myself as weak. A grown man bending over a woman's lap, though - it didn't feel a strong point. "Don't worry about being too heavy for me, Josh - I've had far bulkier boys over my lap before," Miss Stevens smiled warmly, looking up at me with a soft gaze. "Pull that prison uniform down, boxers too, and lay down." It was as I was awkwardly pulling my trousers and boxers down that I realised this was the first time I was getting naked in front of a woman - other than my mum when I was little, of course, but that didn't count. I hadn't imagined I'd be undressing so timidly, or that I'd be undressing so the woman could spank my arse, but I hadn't imagined I'd be going to prison for acting like any true English lad should either, so there you go. I tried to salvage my humiliation by uncovering my cock as confidently as I could, proudly flopping it out - and I'll admit, despite the embarrassing situation Miss Stevens was still a fucking hottie and I was sporting a semi. Despite the reveal, however, Miss Stevens didn't seem to react at all, still smiling sweetly and patting her lap. The whole thing felt even more weird and motherly now, and I couldn't work out if it made it hotter or not. My cock decided for me though, retreating back now under Miss Stevens' tender smile. Gingerly I bent over her lap, placing my stomach on her knees and my head on the sofa as I raised my legs and placed them on the other end, my trousers and boxers pooled around my ankles. From this position I couldn't see anything other than the faded brown pattern on the sofa, but I could smell Miss Stevens' faint floral perfume and felt her soft hands gently stroke my arse cheeks. "Are you ready, Josh?" I heard her ask. "Yeah, get it over with," I muttered, wanting to be anywhere else but over her knees. "Okay, then. I'd say I'll make this as painless as possible, but the whole point of this is to punish you for your bad behaviour, so it will hurt. I've got tissues on my desk for afterwards if you cry, okay Josh?" I simply scoffed and shrugged in response. I wasn't going to cry - I'd been in plenty of fights before and never cried once. "Right - 10 spanks per cheek, and I want you to count each one, okay?" "Per cheek?! I gawped, trying to rise to face her but being held down by her surprising strength. "Are you having a fuc-?!" "Do you want it to be more?" Miss Stevens asked calmly, before bringing her hand down on my left cheek for the first time. Holy. Fuck. Did it hurt. I tensed up and tried not to shout out in pain for fear of swearing more and earning more slaps. My eyes watered as I supressed my desire to cry out, my arse cheek ringing and buzzing with the sting of that first slap. "I didn't hear you count that one, Josh, did you?" she asked politely, but all I could do was hold my tongue and shake my head. "That's a shame. We'll have to start over. Please count them out loud, Josh, otherwise I won't know you're keeping track." Smack. Gulp. Sting. Pain. "...1," I muttered out, water flooding to my eyes as I tried not to yelp in pain. Smack. Fuck. "2..." Smack. Smack. Smack. I broke after 5, and on the 6th spank my voice broke and I let out a faint sob as I counted the hit. The 7th came before I could recover and I couldn't help but let out a fucking pitiful yelp as her iron palm connected with my poor, reddened arse cheek. 8-10 overpowered my ability to hold back the tears forming in my eyes, and I felt them begin to run down my cheeks. I couldn't help but feel that if my arse cheeks could cry they would be too. "Well done, Josh," Miss Stevens praised, and I felt her hand tussle my shaggy blonde hair, an oddly nice feeling compared with the punishment she'd just been inflicting. "Halfway there. We'll breeze through these next 10 and that's the worst part done, okay sweetie?" I opened my mouth to reply, thought better of it, and gritted my teeth as I awaited the next fall of her hand - which came all too soon. The torture repeated on my other cheek until I was shamefully, openly weeping into my hands. By the time Miss Stevens gently stroked my aching, tender arse, congratulated me on taking my punishment ?like a good boy? and told me I could stand up, my legs felt weak. I staggered to my feet, my arse throbbing as I bent over to pull up my boxers and trousers, my senses numb to anything else over than the dignified click-clack of Miss Stevens? heels as she walked back over to the desk and began to boil a kettle for our cups of tea. Dragging my feet so as to reduce the amount of movement and friction effecting my arse, I made my way back to the chair opposite Miss Stevens and tentatively sat down, wincing as my reddened cheeks touched the seat. I was more grateful than ever for the plush covering, and silently seized a tissue from the box Miss Stevens was offering in order to wipe the tears from my face. As if ignoring what had just taken place, she placed our cups of tea down in front of us and took a sip from her own before looking at me patiently. "How are you feeling, Josh?" she asked innocently, as if she hadn?t just spanked seven hells out of my arse. After a brief pause in which I filtered out about a billion swear words, I opted for: "Tender." Miss Stevens smiled. "Yes, I?m sorry I had to do that, Josh, but you were being very disrespectful. I know lots of people disagree with corporal punishment, but I?m sure you?ll believe me when I say it?s proved a very useful tool to help my rehabilitation programme." Much as I wanted to talk back, my arse was still too sore and the threat of being bent over again was enough to keep me quiet. "So ? what actually does your rehab programme do?" I asked. "A good question, Josh," Miss Stevens smiled, leaning forward. My eyes found themselves drawn to her loose top button and her breasts again. "Well, in short it does what any good rehabilitation programme should do ? target bad behaviour, correct it and prevent it occurring again, and allow the person to return to society and function as a meaningful member of said society. Now, I realise that doesn?t really tell you anything about what you and I will actually be doing to achieve that, but if I did that I?d be talking forever ? I believe in just getting stuck in ? you?ll understand soon enough, I?m sure. Please, drink your tea," Miss Stevens insisted. "Right," I said, reaching forwards and picking up my cup of tea. Hateful thoughts of throwing the steaming hot liquid at her jumped to mind, but I forced them back down. That said, I?d never been a big tea drinker and this certainly didn?t look like any cup of tea I was familiar with ? it smelled fruity, too. "It?s my own special blend," Miss Stevens smiled. "It?s wonderfully soothing, both for the body and mind, and should help you relax. As I said, I?d love now to learn more about you, and as part of that I?ll be asking some sensitive questions that may dredge up unpleasant memories. Trust me ? the tea will definitely help." Exhaling through my nose, I shrugged and took a sip. It wasn?t terrible, but to someone used to drinking something with Coca-Cola or alcohol in, this berry-flavoured bath water wasn?t my new favourite drink. "Don?t my notes tell you about me? What more do you want to know?" I huffed, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. "Well, Josh, what your notes really tell me is about the crimes you committed. It tells me your date of birth, your nationality, your birthplace ? but, unsurprisingly, none of this clinical, boring information tells me one little thing about you. For example, what?s your favourite colour?" Miss Stevens asked. "...You want to know my favourite colour? That?s the rehab scheme? How?s that going to get me out of a 28 year prison sentence?" I asked incredulously. "Josh, please ? we?ll never get anywhere if you don?t play along. If every time I ask a question and you respond with three of your own, or if every time I ask you to do something and we have to spend five minutes messing about before you agree to do it, it will take 28 years," Miss Stevens sighed. "Answer my question, please ? what?s your favourite colour?" "Well, I guess that?d have to be red," I shrugged. "Great!" Miss Stevens beamed. "Why red? What is it about that colour that you like?" "Look, I don?t know ? it?s a colour. I could have picked any of them!" I sighed. "Yes, you could ? but you picked red. Now, if you read about colour psychology ? and I?m not saying it?s the be all and end all of things ? there are some interesting things you can learn about what colours are associated with and what that might say about you. Let me read this out to you and you tell me if you think it resonates with you at all: ?Red. The colour of passion and drama. This colour attracts the most attention and is associated with strong emotions such as love and anger. Red is the colour used universally to signify danger, courage, strength, and power. Red is stimulating, vibrant and exciting. Red inspires desire with a strong link to sexuality.? Any thoughts?" "Err, well ? yeah, I suppose that bit about courage, strength, something else ? that sounds right for me." I said, hazarding a guess at something that would move the conversation on. This was weird. Jim never talked about the meanings of colours with me. "?Danger, courage, strength, and power.?" Miss Stevens repeated. "We?ll return to that, but what about that first part? ?The colour of passion and drama. This colour attracts the most attention and is associated with strong emotions such as love and anger.? I?d say that?s very relevant too, and I?ll explain why. Passion, drama, attracting attention, strong emotions ? that all sounds a lot like the crimes you?ve been charged with, don?t they? All of them aggravated, violent, grand gestures. And from your behaviour when you first came into my office ? I think you?re a person who feels their emotions very strongly, aren?t you Josh?" "Well, what?s that mean? Everyone gets annoyed at things, don?t they? Everyone has things that make them angry?" I huffed, crossing my arms and leaning back then wincing as I placed my weight awkwardly on a tender area of my butt. "Of course they do, Josh, of course they do ? but there are people who can control their emotions, manage them, rather than letting their emotions control them." "What, and you think that?s why I committed all those ?hate crimes?? Because I like the colour red?" I snorted. "Josh," Miss Stevens said sternly, flashing me a glare over the rim of her glasses, "you?re bordering on disrespectful again. It would be all too easy for me to bend you over my knee again or discharge you from my office, but I really want us to make this work for you. Please say sorry." I hesitated, anger and pride swelling up inside me again, but the throbbing of my arse drove them back down. "...sorry," I sniffed. "Apology accepted. And no, I don?t think liking the colour red leads someone to throw a brick at a group of black men, do you?" Miss Stevens replied sarcastically. "What I do think, however, is that everything is connected and it would be foolish of us to discount anything that might help. Now, you said you resonated with the bit about ?danger, courage, strength, and power? ? let?s break that down using some examples from your notes," Miss Stevens continued, opening my notes and flipping through to my list of convictions. "I mean, the amount of violence and damage you caused speaks for itself ? do you want to think of yourself as a dangerous person, Josh?" "Well, I don?t want to be someone who everyone thinks they can just push around, you know? You?ve got to stand up for yourself, don?t you?" I replied. "And when you threw that brick at that group of black men, did you feel like they were pushing you around? Did you feel you needed to stand up for yourself against a group that weren?t even bothering you? Are you telling me, Josh, that just seeing a group of black men was enough to make you feel threatened? To scare you?" Miss Stevens pressed. "Look, what is all this?!" I groaned, rising in my seat and gesturing furiously. "I?m not scared of any black bastards ? they?re all scared of me!" "I see," Miss Stevens replied curtly, her eyes never leaving me. "Do you think it was courageous, then, targeting a group of black men that were scared of you? Do you think it took strength, then, to be controlled by your emotions and prejudices; to lash out recklessly? Did you feel powerful when you attacked them ? do you feel powerful now, I wonder?" As if in harmony with her last question my arse throbbed painfully, a sharp reminder of just how powerless I was at the moment. "You see, Josh," Miss Stevens continued after a long silence, "I think there?s a lot of good in you. I think there?s a lot of potential. I think you focus on ideas and thoughts about yourself that just aren?t true. I think you view yourself as this... dangerous, wild, awe- inspiring legend of a man... and you?re just not. And that?s okay. It?s more than okay, actually ? it?s normal. That?s two spanks per cheek for the start our next session, by the way," she added. I winced, acutely aware of how much my arse was hating my mouth at the moment. "Oh, that?s um... that?s not just a one-time thing, then? The spanking?" I asked, hopefully. "Josh, if you continue to break my rules you will continue to get your bottom spanked. I don?t know how much clearer I can be about my dislike of foul language and disrespectful behaviour." Miss Stevens replied coolly. "Yeah, but ? I mean, in fairness, you were saying I was scared of a group of black men, so-" "So it made it okay for you to shout and yell at me? It made it okay to swear, and to gesture violently at me?" Miss Stevens asked plainly. I shrank back into my chair, not wanting to make my situation any worse for myself. "No?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. I shook my head meekly. "No. Now, whilst I would love to jump ahead in the programme and dive into your true feelings about black people and why you feel that way, we?re not done with the colour red." "Oh, for fu-" I began, but I caught myself before it was too late. "The two last sentences. ?Red is stimulating, vibrant and exciting? first. Now that is all positive, wouldn?t you agree, Josh? Energetic, engaging, full of life ? definitely positive traits. Do you think they describe you as well, Josh? Do you like to be physically active? Do you enjoy partying and having a good time?" "I suppose," I shrugged. "Who doesn?t like to have fun? You know, play a bit of footy with the lads, hang out at the park, have a drink, that sort of stuff." "How lovely," Miss Stevens replied. "I quite liked netball when I was at school. Now, wrapping things up ? ?red inspires desire with a strong link to sexuality.? Now, I realise you?ve been trying to be discreet but I?m aware you?ve been staring down my top since the moment you walked in ?you?re your information women don?t appreciate such objectification, Josh, so that?ll be another 5 spanks per cheek next session for your lechery." "What?" I began, but managed to stop myself moaning even before Miss Stevens shot a disapproving look over her glasses this time. "Sorry..." I grumbled. "Good boy, Josh," Miss Stevens beamed. "You apologised without me even having to ask you to. I?ll reduce that to 3 spanks per cheek, then ? though it still makes it 5 in total, you understand?" I nodded. "So, on the topic of sexuality ? are you straight, or gay, or bi, or something else?" I nearly choked on my own tongue. "I?m straight, obviously!" I gasped out, stifling my indignation. How dare she ask if I was gay? "Obviously?" Miss Stevens echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Sorry, did I miss something in the notes ? do you have a girlfriend, or wife, or female partner? Not that that would preclude you from not being straight, of course." "Well, no..." I trailed off. "It was an innocent question, Josh, and sexuality is never obvious. Most people never seriously think about it their whole lives ? for some people it is their lives, and even then they may never fully understand it. Tell me, Josh, have you slept with a woman?" I stayed silent. "No?" My silence was deafening. "Tell me then, Josh, have you slept with a man?" "No!" I shouted, blushing fiercely. Miss Stevens sighed. "Well then, Josh, how do you know for definite what you like and dislike from sex? How is it obvious that you?re straight? Not everything?s black and white, Josh ? very few things, in fact, besides the... obvious." Miss Stevens ended enigmatically. "What obvious?" I asked, my brow furrowed once more. "All in good time, Josh," Miss Stevens said dismissively. "Now, I?m afraid we?ve overrun our time for today so I?ll have to let you get back to... solitary, wasn?t it? However, for your homework I would like-" "Homework?!" I gaped. "...for your homework I would like you to do a little bit of exploration on two more colours ? ?White? and ?Black?. I want you to think about what those colours make you feel, what emotions and words spring to mind when you think of them. I want at least 5 things for each colour." Miss Stevens continued unabashed. "Isn?t that a bit on the nose?" I asked, exasperated. "White and black? You know, because I?m a white guy and all my ?crimes? were against black people? Is this how you solve racism?" I smirked. Miss Stevens met it with a smirk of her own. "10 spanks per cheek next session, Josh. Do the homework, and do it properly, or the session after next you?ll be due 20. Goodbye," she smiled, pressing a button on her desk which alerted the prison guards outside, who opened the door and walked in to accompany me back to solitary. "Right," I sniffed, "is it going to be the same time next week?" "Next week?" Miss Stevens replied. "You may have met with Mr Carter on a weekly basis, but the nature of the rehabilitation programme means the input you?ll receive from me is more intense than the input you?d receive from a standard corrections officer. I?ll be seeing you tomorrow, Josh, and on a daily basis from now on. So you?d best get started with that homework," she smiled, waving goodbye as the officers stood either side of me and escorted me out of the room. 365 days? worth of her, or 28 years in prison? I was starting to wonder which I?d prefer...