A Very Shameful Punishment Ch. 09

Despite Janet's general air of bonhomie, the luncheon was not characterized by free and easy give-and-take among the women present. The three judges were clearly still embarrassed, realizing that the others had seen these august personages bend over a humiliating punishment block better suited to a Victorian workhouse, lift their skirts and display their panties, and then lower those to receive several strokes of the cane from a uniformed Senior Correctional Officer.

If those steps were not enough to embarrass the three lady jurists extraordinarily, the final imposition certainly accomplished that goal. Each one was ordered to lift her torso off the block, reach between her legs and hold her labia open, and receive two scorching "Mistress's Strokes" from the small strap which struck each on her open vulva.

These thoughts did register on Eleanor's mind as she contemplated the scene she had been privileged to witness. The entire imposition had been agreed to by the judges after it became known that technically, the shameful punishment they had visited upon Eleanor for her alleged adultery had been improper. The marriage Eleanor had been accused of violating did not exist and thus her punishment had been legally in error.

Eleanor knew she could embarrass the court by disclosing these facts publicly but also understood that to the women of the Women's Republic, she still would be regarded as an adulteress since she had not known at the time that her co-respondent was not actually married. So with her new job going well and having only just been admitted to the exclusive Victoria Club in her new city, she happily went along with the way her superior at the company and a woman who apparently had quite a great deal of authority and respect beyond the company and the city, Janet, had orchestrated the denouement of this situation.

The judges seemed a trifle embarrassed both to be lunching with the women who had witnessed their shame and to be present with the woman they had wrongfully sentenced to be punished so severely, and as a matter of law, erroneously.

Nevertheless, Judge Lesley, the outgoing blonde who had earned extra punishment for ignominiously losing control of her bladder during the caning, tried to carry on for the three.

"Janet, it's been quite some time since I for one had the pleasure of dining here," she said pleasantly, "and I must say that we don't have any place as charming as the Vic back in our capital city."

"Well, you know, Your Honor," Janet answered, deigning to use the honorific especially because she had just a few minutes earlier been presiding over the session during which the judge and her colleagues had been exposing their most private parts most humiliatingly to her gaze, "we feel we have managed to retain quite a bit of the best traditions here, even if in the old days, we as women were as subservient as elsewhere."

Janet was referring to the time before the proclamation of the Women's Republic, when men in effect controlled the country. Men were now truly second-class citizens in the state and even Eleanor, so harshly shamed just over a year previously, now was married and exercised the authority every married woman possessed now, as symbolized by the small marital cane she carried in her handbag.

Eleanor had not made great use of the cane as of yet, because she still felt not only love and affection for Jackson, her husband, who had married her despite her ignominious status and who moved with her to this city to start a new life, but because she had vowed to herself not to use the cane to dominate her husband merely because she could.

As the lunch party, which included the judges, Janet, Eleanor, Senior Correctional Officer Annette, and Janet's colleagues at Goose Cookers Company, CEO Deb and Chair Toni, wound down, each of the three judges made sure to stop by and quietly chat with Eleanor to convey their personal feelings of regret for what they had imposed on her but now had been punished for themselves.

"Dear Eleanor," Lesley said in a very quiet tone, "I do hope that we can put this behind us after a time, as I understand how you must feel. My feelings are in no way comparable"—and here the blonde judge blushed—"but I began to grasp merely the slightest bit of what you endured when I had to decide just now between two more cane strokes to my bare ass near my thighs or another stroke on my open pussy.

"And for me, dear," she went on, in a tone so quiet that it was not heard by the others, "you were hurt and I feel for you, but if it's shame, peeing like I did in that position gave me at least a tiny inkling of your torture. Please accept my very very sincere apology."

Eleanor realized that this was not standard behavior by a judge at any level and she quietly, as quietly as the apology had been rendered, responded to Judge Lesley that she truly appreciated her saying what she did.

"I know I was not without fault, either," she said openly to the blonde judge, "but now I do feel that you three have realized what going through even a few minutes of that kind of embarrassment means. Thank you again," and she smiled a wide smile that Lesley emulated in return.

Later that day, after the judges had left to return to the capital with Annette, Janet summoned Eleanor back to her office. She told Eleanor how proud she was of how Eleanor had behaved during this necessarily ticklish occasion.

"I'm very very pleased at how that went, Ellie," she began with a grin. "And I do hope you enjoyed seeing those three get whacked on their judicial wazoos," she added, almost laughing at her remark.

"Oh, I did, Janet, I did," Eleanor responded, "but I also appreciated their personally apologizing to me, especially what Lesley said. They are decent ladies, and maybe this experience has broadened their grasp of how they should behave in future."

"No question about that," Janet replied, "and where shall we head now that that's over?"

Eleanor understood that Janet was bringing things back to the company, and she remarked that the ad campaign for the new Silly Goose lingerie for ladies had been producing surging sales. Women apparently possessed enough confidence now to let down their hair and buy underwear that was juvenile—that even had the famous Silly Goose logo on the bras and panties—to wear themselves and consequently assume a lighter outlook.

"I do have yet another thought about extending this product line," Eleanor said brightly to her boss.

Janet looked up with expectant thoughts appearing across her usually impervious visage.

"I'm delighted that you haven't let yourself rest on your...should I say laurels or goose down?" she chuckled.

"I kept thinking about how we could use the 'What's Good for the Goose' line," Eleanor began. "Then I found myself thinking, 'Let's give women something fun they can use to exert their authority' and so I'm coming round to proposing that we produce some underwear for women to give the men in their lives."

"Oh?" said Janet, not entirely clear yet as to what her imaginative new colleague had in mind.

"Yes," Eleanor said, "we make underpants for men that look almost the same as panties and put the Silly Goose logo on them, so women will buy them and have the men wear them to show who's in charge and the line, 'What's Good for the Goose Now is Perfect for the Gander, Too' is a start for the campaign. We don't have to dwell on women getting these for any special reason, like punishment or embarrassment. It can be fun for them like the undies we're bringing out for women, but also the whole thing carries an undertone of the female dominance that the Women's Republic indeed supports if it doesn't always say so in so many words."

Janet grinned and chuckled, "I have a feeling a certain husband of yours may be one of the first to find himself in these new undies."

Eleanor blushed but retained her sense of buoyancy and laughed, "Yes, I might just try them out with him. Do you think this is a keeper?"

Janet let her thoughts emerge. "Yes," she responded with care, "we will need to be very quiet about getting things ready and there will need to be a lot more effort than usual in deciding just how we bring this to market, but," she paused for effect, "yes, I like it!"

Eleanor left for the day on a high. She returned home where Jackson was waiting for her to hear how the momentous meeting with the judges had gone.

She grinned as she related how the three were embarrassed and how she reveled very very quietly in her glee as she watched them lift their skirts, lower their panties, and take what was coming to them on their bare bottoms and open pussies.

Jackson let out a low whistle and managed to say that he would've loved to have seen it.

"Not half so much as I did, darling," Eleanor let out with some vehemence, "and you know that no man will ever be allowed to see something like that happen."

Jackson reacted uncharacteristically by sulking for a moment at the clear put-down from his wife, even if underneath he knew it was the truth about the man's role in the Women's Republic.

Eleanor went on to tell him, somewhat excitedly and not noticing his less-than-enthralled demeanor, about her latest idea for Goose Cookers.

"You don't expect me to wear those," he snapped, definitely without thinking about how she would react.

"I damned well do," she quickly shot back, and showed her annoyance at his condescension.

Jackson still did not realize how much he had provoked the woman whom he loved and who loved him, but who was definitely the one in charge of the household.

"I'm disappointed in you," she said, still also bearing just the vestiges of her resentment against the judges, who after all, had been humiliated, but for a few minutes, not a whole year, she thought.

Unfortunately for him, Jackson was very slow on the pickup today, and he didn't see how deep her disappointment was, so he merely shrugged.

Eleanor now was fuming, and without thinking more, she said sternly, "You're in need of some real correction and I'm going to see that you get it."

The heavy tone in her voice finally awakened him to what he now realized, too late, was real danger and he looked at her pleadingly, "I'm sorry, dear."

"Not good enough," she said, "and neither is the little cane. I'm sending you to the Men's Camp."

Jackson blanched and began to sob while he pleaded with his still angry wife for mercy, or at least, mitigation.

But Eleanor was in no mood for compromise. She took out her computer-phone and filled out a form that she had been given access to when she had been married, as were all women now, and it was a request for discipline. On it, she wrote, "My husband needs a few weeks of re-training at the Men's Camp."

She received back an instant response from the Women's League office and read it with notable lack of emotion to her now very apologetic but resigned husband: "Please present your husband at the League office during business hours and he will be sent to the Men's Camp for an initial re-training. Be aware that this will be for a three-week period barring further misbehavior on his part. Signed, Roberta, Disciplinary Officer, Women's League, District 17."

"OK, Jackson," Eleanor said firmly. "You're coming with me and I hope you behave so I see you in three weeks. Don't bother to pack because they won't let you bring anything with you anyway."

Jackson was still stupefied that his remark had engendered such horrible consequences for him. But he thought about what Eleanor had gone through and that she had obviously been needy today even with her revenge of sorts, and probably because it was exciting but taxing, and of course did not come close to erasing her own suffering.

"I'm sorry, dear," he said, with deference, "and I will learn my lesson and hope to be better to you when I get back. Please put in a word for me when you can if you so can bring yourself."

Eleanor was already slightly sorry that she had reacted so strongly, but underneath, she was similar to many women in the Republic in harboring resentments still unallayed, and in her case, especially because she had to face the fact that Graham was still unpunished and Gail had really done her ill.

They did not speak in the car on the way to the League office, but when there, Eleanor filled out the required forms and did mark where there was a place to request level of discipline that he should get "light" which was the lowest level there was. Jackson kept silent which he knew was the best course, and the uniformed woman soon ordered him to enter the well-known door behind her which would lead to where he would be transported to a Men's Re-Orientation Camp.

He walked through the door, the uniformed officer smiled at Eleanor, and said to her after he was gone, "Don't worry, honey, you did the right thing—they all need some of this, I can tell you from what I've read and seen."

Eleanor somewhat regretted her hastiness to effectively sentencing her loving husband to three weeks of humiliating treatment for one moment of annoyance but she went back to her office and managed to summon up courage to confide in Janet, her boss and new friend.

"You did act a bit quickly and roughly, sweetie," Janet said, still smiling, "but I'm pleased to see that you have some nice backbone. He'll survive and be nicer, just wait."

Jackson joined six other men who were waiting until the uniformed officer appeared and ordered them to stand and get on the transport. They were forced to stand, although there were seats on the airport bus-like conveyance. All the men knew that they could not sit without being told to do so and none dared request permission.

When they reached the camp, which was located outside the city and behind a large stockade wall, the woman driver ordered them to get off the conveyance and line up next to the bus.

Soon, a tall redhaired female in khaki uniform appeared and stood in front of them and started speaking very harshly to them.

"I am Sergeant Denise," she began. "You will never address me as anything but 'Sergeant' or 'Sergeant Denise' and I don't need to see you smile, either. You are here for three weeks if you behave yourselves. If you don't, you will find the consequences unpleasant and you will also be re-cycled for a further three more intensive weeks. I suggest you do what you are told, get re-oriented, and you will be on your way. Some of you do not believe me. You will be very sorry. I will control everything you do for these three weeks. When and if you sleep. Or eat. Or use the toilet. So get with it and don't bust my chops. Now march and we'll show you to your quarters."

Sergeant Denise was very attractive, Jackson thought, but he certainly made sure he didn't say anything about that to her or anyone else. He still had trouble not staring at women's boobs and looking to see up a skirt that may have ridden up or flipped up in the wind.

It was only six p.m., but when they reached the barracks, they were made to make their beds, given their uniforms, which were plain and highly unflattering, and told to wash their faces, brush their teeth using the kit they had been given, and to relieve themselves.

When Sergeant Denise returned a half hour later, all were standing in the barracks, she whistled them to attention, and told them that for their first night, they would be put to bed early, right then. No one dared to complain about both the humiliation and their not getting any supper.

She left and re-appeared at five a.m. She carried a large box and passed out plain white panties to each man.

"You will wear these today to indicate that you are new trainees," she said, without emotion. "If you behave for a few days, you will get male underwear back. If you don't you will get ruffled punishment panties and other punishment devices. Don't push me or try to resist or you will be very unhappy. You can wear your uniform shirts and then just these panties. No trousers and no shorts. Every man in this camp has gone through this so no one will dare laugh at you."

Jackson listened, accepted a pair of white shiny panties as did the other men, and put them on. He felt ridiculous but understood that this was the purpose of the treatment. He looked round at the other men. They looked non-descript and pretty well cowed so that no one seemed prone to test the clearly highly dominant Sergeant Denise. She was wearing a well-tailored khaki uniform, with her sergeant's stripes on the short sleeve and a few medals on her chest, which itself was formidable.

Jackson figured she was at least 36C but tried to think instead about his wife, whom he loved even though she had sent him to this awful place for three whole weeks. He then recalled that she had had her snatch sewn up for a year, so he let himself feel some empathy for her.

Denise noticed him musing and said, "You there. Your mind is wandering. You're not trying to imagine me without clothes, are you?"

"No, no, Sergeant Denise," he remembered to say, but she had seen what he was thinking.

"Get up here!" she barked.

He quickly walked to stand before her and she ordered him to bend over.

He did so, and her thumbs went in the waistband of his white panties and pulled them down to his knees. Then she retrieved her whippy thin cane from her handbag which had the other men all take in a deep breath just seeing what they knew was an implement likely to sting all of their bottoms during their re-training.

Jackson realized he looked ridiculous bent over with a military uniform shirt and white panties at his knees with plain black shoes and socks. But he forgot any embarrassment about that when he felt Sergeant Denise apply her cane thrice to his posterior.

"You will thank me for correcting you," she intoned. "Say it like this, and all of you remember this, 'Thank you for correcting me, Sergeant Denise.'"

Jackson repeated the required thank you and she motioned to him to return to the line. He looked down now as did most of the others.

"All of you," she said loudly. "You will not look down, you will look straight ahead as a sign of respect for the superior woman. You will not stare at my chest or my skirt or my legs."

She then marched them down the road to a large enclosure. Other men similarly dressed, some with pink panties and others with yellow ones, all humiliating, were standing in lines with similarly-uniformed and almost uniformly gorgeous sergeants.

Soon a slightly older but very fine-looking woman appeared on a platform in front of them wearing a fancier uniform with braid and crests and many medals. Her lustrous auburn hair was mostly concealed under her military hat and she also wore a full uniform jacket and tie.

"I am Commandant Elizabeth," she announced. "You are all here to be re-trained. You will keep your noses and your crotches clean and you will go home in three weeks with new respect for the female of the species. You will do exactly what your sergeants tell you to do and nothing else.

"Any problems and you will be very sorry," she went on. "I require a man to serve me and my staff in the toilet. You will not enjoy this duty. Get on my wrong side or that of one of my sergeants and it will be you who serves us. You will get three square meals, very healthy ones in all meanings of that word. Your sergeants will give you breaks in training for your personal needs. Use them. They are allotted on the basis of need not your convenience. Don't come crying that you didn't take care of your needs then or you will be asking for trouble."

Jackson listened carefully and looked straight at Commandant Elizabeth. He was willing to play the game and do what he was told to get through this. He was beginning to understand a little of what Eleanor had gone through, despite the vast difference in what each had been subjected to by way of punishment.