Bend Over Jessica

Rose was sore.

That was the abiding thought as she lay in the dark in the narrow iron bed, shifting restlessly, unable to sleep, her cheeks still a little wet from her earlier weeping. All she was aware of was the relentless burning heat of her bottom, peppered with red welts and stripes, bruises and marks.

Outside, a night bird called. It was quiet here in the depths of the forest, where Lord Fawcett’s Institute for Delinquent and Debauched Young Women was situated. The cool night air drifted through the open window but Rose’s bottom was a ball of heat that would take more than the tendrils of a March mist to cool. She felt the room closing in on her, like a cell.

Up until tonight, she had shared a dormitory with two other inmates, Tessie Stevens and Nancy Ingram but tonight, she had been separated to a solitary room. Tomorrow, they would all be returned via wagon to the railway station and from thence to their various abodes but Rose was different and a closed carriage would collect her at dawn. Unlike some of the other girls, Rose had a place to go as her employer, Mr Anscombe, had told the magistrates court that he would take Rose back into his household when she had served her sentence.  But once she had been given her final punishment, he had insisted that she be separated from the other inmates. “She will be infected by their ways” he’d insisted to the Chairman of the Bench.

Rose, already devastated with horror at her conviction for theft and whoring, had remained silent. The magistrates hadn’t wanted to hear how she came to steal the maids uniform provided for her by Mr Anscombe, her protests that as he had burnt her workhouse dress, she could hardly have run away naked. Nor did they understand that her one experience of the Cyprian trade was due to hunger and desperation to earn sixpence to pay for a room in a cheap lodging house rather than risk the streets for a second night. Nobody had listened at the court. And at the Reformatory, branded a whore and a cheap one at that, Rose had had to endure unwelcome attention from some of the Masters. And now, her sentence was over, her conviction expunged but come the morning, she would be returned to Mr Anscombe’s house. Her stomach whirled with the thought.

She tried to sleep, lying on her stomach to remove the pressure from her tender rear. Even the blanket covering her seemed to hurt. But sleep was hard to come by. Her memory was constantly assailed by snatches of memory from the weekend….

Firstly, her arrival at the Reformatory and the shy chatter amongst the girls, whilst they waited to be processed. They couldn’t think of themselves as inmates – not yet anyway, and nor could any of them bring themselves to ask the others for what they had been sent here for. It didn’t matter for soon, they five of them were lined up in front of the head of the reformatory, Dr Grimace, flanked by the imposing figures of the other three Masters present, and they were each questioned individually about their crimes in front of all. The first girl, Mary Frances, was also a maid and had been convicted of libel and forgery, of forging a note from her Master. The second girl, Nancy, again a maid, had been imprisoned for theft, as she had stolen a book from her employer. When Rose was questioned, she felt herself flushing a mortified red at having to speak up to theft and whoring, especially when the masters muttered amongst themselves with disgust but audible to her blushing ears and she saw the eyes of the other girls widen a little. Of the final two inmates, Audrey had outraged public decency for profit and Tessie was convicted of theft, fencing and accountancy. Rose wondered what accountancy was, but didn’t dare to ask. In fact, she didn’t dare to speak and accountancy sounded really bad.

The girls were then given card to wear around their necks, upon which were marked their names and their crimes. The cards would also be marked if they committed any of the four cardinal offences at the reformatory – disobedience, idle chattering, foul language or Deadly Sins. This was a sub category all of its own and Dr Grimace explained that if the girls were thought to be displaying any of the seven deadly sins – pride, wrath, sloth, envy, lust, greed or gluttony – there were special punishments, ordained by God. If a girl committed any of the cardinal offences, she would receive a black mark and five black marks in any category in any day meant an exemplary punishment. Dr Grimace also handed out roughly wrapped brown paper parcels to each of the girls – their uniforms for the weekend.

The girls or as they now were, inmates, were herded upstairs and brusquely commanded to strip and their own clothes confiscated. One at a time, they then entered the Master’s bathroom where they were washed with icy cold water and carbolic soap, something that Rose, who was shy, found shameful as she was aware of the Master’s eyes assessing her naked form. Then it was along to Dr Grimace’s room to be checked for diseases, another painful and humiliating process. It was a relief to be finally allowed to dress in black evening dresses, black knee stockings and sturdy regulation black knickers. Rose was even more delighted to escape to the kitchen where she found that she had been given the bulk of the supervision and preparation of the evening meals, no doubt due to her experience. As she laid the table and prepared vegetables, talking quietly to Tessie, they heard the Masters walk through the kitchen to their common room. One of the Masters, Mr Jenkins, immediately gave both Tessie and Rose black marks for chattering. They both scowled and Tessie, who seemed a confident girl, stuck her tongue out at him when his back was turned before returning to her task. Rose, an armful of plates in her hands, suddenly felt eyes upon her and she raised her head to see Mr Murdstone staring at her. His eyes were hard. He started a little longer, then turned away and Rose felt weak with relief.

Before dinner, they were all summoned to the Master’s common room to receive the first of their hourly punishments, a brief but sharp spanking on the hour, every hour, for the duration of the weekend. Then it was back to domestic chores and finally dinner. That first night, although she was very hungry, Rose did not eat much and was quiet at table, even though the chattering rule was temporarily relaxed. She was scared, a slow dull terror inside at what was going to happen. Would she cope? Her bottom was a little sore from the spanking. What would happen when the real punishment began?

After dinner, she had her first taste of proper discipline as Dr Grimace announced the first remedial punishment session. Rose was told she would first see Dr Grimace in his room, with Audrey. They quickly found themselves stripped of their undergarments and bent over a frame as Dr Grimace beat them, first of all with a leather strap and then with an unrelenting tawse. Rose winced and gritted her teeth. This was only her first proper punishment! Dr Grimace had some harsh and humiliating things to say to her, a girl caught in a transaction of the most bestial nature. His hand slipped briefly between her legs and he stroked her most secret place. Rose twitched with embarrassment and Dr Grimace laughed.  “I don’t imagine it’s something you don’t like Rose,” was all he said.

After half an hour of hard and unrelenting beating, Rose was sent to Mr Mudstone’s room, this time on her own. Mr Murdstone was an austere gentleman, neat in his manner but with something in his eyes that reminded her of a hawk, floating the air-stream whilst on the look out for a rabbit. He ordered her over the bed and took his belt to her. He too had something to say about her indiscretions and she realised with mounting horror that he knew her employer Mr Anscombe. When he flung her onto the bed and ran his hands all over her body, thrusting his hand hard between her legs, hurting her, Rose could see why they were friends. She struggled and without even thinking about it, caught Mr Murdstone a hard blow in his most private place. Mr Murdstone winced – and then boxed Rose’s ears viciously, making her head swim and her ears ring as she wept with fright at the rough treatment. “I hope you’re not going to be difficult Rose,” he commented. “After all, I’m not expecting to pay for it.” Rose, sobbing didn’t reply – and then the ringing bell interrupted Mr Murdstone but his face, as he told her to see Mr Jenkins, promised her that she was unfinished business.

Mr Jenkins was a strict and no-nonsense type with a very hard hand. He also commented on Rose’s apparently lascivious nature, assuring her, whilst she was bent over the arm of a sofa, having a strap applied hard to her glowing rear, that he could see that she was a good girl who had merely strayed from the right path. He was sure she was going to be a good girl and learn her lessons well. He could see that she was going to be a cooperative girl. And didn’t she know that Dr Grimace would never take her word above that of a Master? Given that she was a convicted criminal and all. His hand worked its way between her legs. “Well young lady,” he commented “I can see that you’re finding this experience….stimulating.” Rose, mortified again, gritted her teeth as he lashed his cane hard into her cheeks, six hard stroked, burning across her bottom.

That night, in the dormitory with Tessie and Nancy, Rose didn’t dare to say anything about her treatment at the hands of the Masters. Looking at Tessie, who seemed to be unquenchable and fresh-faced and Nancy, who looked the picture of rosy innocence, she couldn’t imagine what she would say. She felt the enormity, the humiliation of her crime, felt it almost branded across her breast. She lay for a long time that night, sleepless. When she did doze, she awoke to silence and found both her room-mates gone. She didn’t know where, but outside her room, she heard the wooden floors of the reformatory creaking and doors opening and closing. She heard the sound of leather on flesh. And then sometime later, she heard a moaning sound, feminine moaning and the creak, creak, creak of a bed as it banged against a wall. By the time she fell asleep again, neither of her roommates had reappeared.

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The next day was unrelentingly difficult and demanding. The girls had improving lessons, learning how to read, write and count, religious instruction, general knowledge and Empire geography. Hourly punishments came and went and Rose got used to having her skirt flipped up at the least opportunity. By the end of Saturday lunchtime, she felt like she was on an even keel again. Until after lunch. Nancy and Tessie were to go on a nature walk with Mr Lawson and Dr Grimace. Audrey and Mary-Frances were to have remedial discipline with Mr Jenkins. Rose was to carry out domestic chores and begin to prepare dinner. Supervised by Mr Murdstone.

Her heart sank.

She kept her head over her work, peeling what seemed like a barrel of vegetables, clearing the dishes, putting them away. Mr Murdstone stood, sipping coffee, watching her. He didn’t need to tell her to work hard, but took the time to lecture her on her crimes and the sins of the flesh. Has she had Bible instruction? Didn’t she know that lust and unnatural practises were sins against God and man?

Chores complete, she was taken to his room and this time she knew that there would not be a ringing bell to interrupt them.

Once in his room, he wasted no time. He flung her onto the bed and despite her protestations, used her in a way that only a man can use a woman. She cried that it hurt and he laughed. He hadn’t started yet, he told her. And then, in the ultimate indignity, he turned her onto her front, running his hands over her sore and glowing buttocks. He groaned with…pain? Pleasure? And then he did something so terrible, so painful and so lascivious that Rose was only able to bite the pillow and let her tears flow unchecked into the plain white linen.

As she shakily dressed herself again after he dismissed her, he smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “I’d like to cane you,” he said in a chatty way. “I think I’m going to. And I don’t need an excuse. And then, when I’ve put some welts across that beautiful little bottom of yours, I think I’ll need to do that again. So you’d better watch out.”
 
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On Sunday, Rose woke in the certain knowledge that what was ahead of her today was more pain and suffering. In particular, as today was the last day of her sentence, she would receive her official birching out, when all inmates were birched. Rose knew however that she would not be birched as Mr Anscombe had spoken for her in court. Instead, she would receive the dragon cane. The thought did not comfort her.

On Sunday morning, after the medicinal figging which stung her sore parts, Rose was punished in an exemplary manner, along with Nancy and Audrey. For accumulating five black marks for the deadly sin of lust, Rose was forced to lift her dress whilst Mr Lawson applied stinging unguent to her female parts, something that itched and burned. Then, for foul language, Dr Grimace washed out her mouth with soap whilst Mr Murdstone held her arms to prevent struggling. There was another remedial discipline session with Mr Lawson and then Mr Jenkins again, who tried out his formidable arsenal of weapons on her sore bottom. As she lay naked on her back, the martinet stinging her breasts and private parts, fully aware of the view she was presenting to Mr Jenkins, she nearly cried.

And still, there was her caning to come.

When the time came, it was almost a relief. Rose found herself alone, facing the four masters. She had already heard the sickening sounds and gasps of pain as Mary Frances and then Audrey, were birched thoroughly.

Dr Grimace sentenced her to 12 strokes. Severe ones. Three from each master.

Rose was stretched over the table and her outstretched arms were held by Mr Lawson and Mr Jenkins. Six strokes were given hard, the crack of the cane echoing, and she gritted her teeth and told herself that she could ride this pain. And ride it she did until the final three when Mr Jenkins carefully and viciously aimed all three of his strokes into the sweet spot between bottom and thighs. Rose managed to only make a small whimpering sound. But when she stood, the wooden tabletop was wet.

She made her way upstairs to bathe, bottom throbbing, able to feel her blood pounding along every welt on her backside.

In the corridor, she met Mr Murdstone. “My room Rose. You know what I’m going to do.”

And he did.

And Rose enjoyed it. Shamefully, with the marks of her weekend still raised on her bottom, she whimpered and writhed and wriggled. And Mr Murdstone laughed.

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And so, when night fell, Rose found herself in her little room, her thoughts wild. What would Mr Anscombe say when she was back in his charge? When the floor creaked outside her room, she flinched a little, afraid that a master had come to take his pleasure with her again. But nobody came. She was alone with her tears and her sore bottom.

Until the morning. Until dawn broke through the clouds and the sun shone on frosty grounds. Until Rose, staring at the dawn, heard footsteps outside her room, the creaking boards that announced the presence of a Master. She turned. It was Dr Grimace.

“Your carriage awaits Rose. Come along. I hope you will remember the lessons you learnt here.”

Rose left.

The floorboards sighed.

The reformatory was over.