Rehabilitation
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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...
Yvette
- 08.02.2021
- 20
- 0
