I looked up at the sign.‘Discipline Centre.’ I had been here before so I wasn’t worried about it being the right place. I just wanted to get my mind in to the right frame.

I’m Cindy.

The new law was working. Prisons were over-crowded and Local Authorities didn’t want the expense of building new ones. The public demanded action though. For too long those who committed minor offences got no more than a slap on the wrist and were free to re-offend. So the Government came up with an alternative.

The Authorities no longer had to worry about dealing with minor criminals; that is those avoiding local taxes through to speeding drivers and minor shoplifting. Instead once found guilty the perpetrator was sent to a Discipline Centre who handled the punishment. The punishment was normally the cane on the bare bottom.

That was where I saw a way to make money. The person given the punishment was sent an email advising them where to attend. They already knew their punishment. Many though hated the thought of getting the cane and a whole business grew up to help them; by business people like me.

I was self-employed and my business plan was easy. I took the perpetrator’s place in return for cash.

It was all too easy. The only evidence asked for when attending the Discipline Centre was the email. It had a unique code on it. All you had to do when attending was punch the code in at reception and it was assumed you were the right person. The Administrators never imagined anyone else would want to take the guilty persons place. After all, it never happened when people were sent to prison. So why should it happen with a caning? Well they were wrong.

I didn’t advertise openly. I started the business when attending a work evening drinks do. There was a temp. Charlene was her name. She was thirty-five and divorced. She was pretty, and looked sexy in her sleeveless flower patterned dress, with a hem half-way down her thigh and bare legs. We started chatting and after a couple of drinks too many she started to tell me all about herself; including her upcoming appointment at the Discipline Centre. She had two speeding offences being dealt with on the same day so that meant two separate sets of six strokes of the cane. She told me how much she was dreading it and that she would do anything to avoid going. That’s when my ears pricked up.

“What would you do to avoid going and getting the cane?” I asked, smiling. I was interested just in case I ever got told to go. I was thirty-three and so a similar age to Charlene. We had a similar build as well. Both of us wore our hair shoulder length and liked short dresses. We had legs that looked good so why not show them off? We both had curves in the right place; our boobs got whistles galore.

I also had had a couple of drinks more than usual as I doubt whether I would otherwise have even thought of the idea. Being a lesbian helped, I supposed. My initial thought was to get in to her knickers. Rather let her get in to my knickers. I was the submissive type. I loved women but also loved it being rough. Not rough sex as such. I got a real turn-on from being spanked as foreplay. Spanked really hard actually. My girlfriend, well lover, Claire, was really good at spanking me. She always started by spanking me with her hand but she quickly went on to use a wooden backed paddle hairbrush. I screamed out in pain but my pussy always got brilliantly wet whist I was across her lap having my bottom turned bright red. That’s why the thought of being officially disciplined was even a turn-on right then after those drinks.

My thoughts were interrupted by Charlene’s voice. “Shit loads,” Charlene replied. “I would clean their house for a month, cook for them, and shop for them.”

I jumped in with, “Would you sleep with me?”

Charlene caught her breath in surprise. “You mean you would stand in for me?”

I smiled. “Sure. If you slept with me for a month.”

“Oh crikey,” Charlene said blushing. “If you were a bloke then I would.” She paused before blushing and adding, “I just couldn’t do it with another girl.”

I thought Charlene looked like she was already regretting rejecting my offer but actually if she wasn’t in to women I reckoned the sex wouldn’t be that good anyway. That’s when the idea hit me and I asked, “Would you pay me to take the caning for you?”

I could see Charlene giving that some thought. As she did so did I. My credit card bill was due for payment and I knew I couldn’t pay it all off. It was getting me down. Other bills were sitting on my sideboard. I reckoned the gas could get cut off pretty soon and that would give me all sorts of problems. So actually taking money could be better than having sex, I quickly realised. Suddenly I was taking the conversation seriously.

The cane didn’t really worry me overly. I had been caned several times at school. Sure it hurt, for a while, but it wasn’t as though the pain lasted for ever. More like just a few hours.

I knew the system, though. A friend of mine, Jackie, had been caned a couple of weeks before. She showed me the email so I knew about the unique code. I walked with her to the Discipline Centre and waited for her in the Companion’s Room; where anyone accompanying the person being caned would wait. There was no viewing area as the caning was carried out almost in private. Just the Officer giving the caning and one other Officer as a witness.

Jackie had told me that all she had to do was show the email. There were no questions asked to confirm her identity. Afterwards all she had to do was re-enter her unique code and that confirmed the punishment had been carried out.

“How much would you want?” Charlene asked me.

I wasn’t sure. I knew my credit card bill was four hundred pounds and the gas bill another one hundred. “Five hundred pounds,” I said.

“Sure,” Charlene said immediately and I reckoned I had under-priced myself.

Nevertheless I told myself that at least my immediate bills would be paid off and that would give me some breathing space.

So two days later Charlene and I went to the same Discipline Centre I was attending today.

I had Charlene with me. The thing was neither of us could be sure I wouldn’t get caught and the rule was that the punishment was doubled if you missed it. So Charlene suggested she act as my companion.

I had the email and told myself only to answer to the name Charlene Hart. I went in and walked up to the reception desk.

“Enter your code,” the Officer said officiously.

I entered the ten digit code and the word, ‘OK,’ appeared on the screen.

“Right, Hart. Been here before?” the Officer asked.

“No, Sir,” I replied deciding I should at least be submissive in my demeanour.

It seemed to help as the Officer gave me a friendlier smile when he said, “Follow the signs to the Punishment Area and go to the Changing Room.”

The walk towards the changing area was about fifty feet along the corridor. I passed a few people coming back down the corridor towards me. It always seemed to be the same. They came in pairs. One would have red eyes and be rubbing his or her bottom, and the companion was steering them along and trying to console them.

“It must be painful,” Charlene whispered to me as one woman passed us by still crying.

I didn’t think that was a helpful comment. Not when I was minutes away from the caning. Still, I didn’t think Charlene said it on purpose.

We both entered the changing area and I went over to the desk.

“Number?” the Officer demanded. She was a self-important looking woman who didn’t smile. She wore a grey short-sleeved shirt and grey trousers. Her shoulder length hair was dark brown.

I showed her the email. “Here, Ma’am,” I said, still deciding submissive was the right attitude.

The officer gave me a key. “Get changed and then you go through that door,” she said pointing at a door that had a sign over it saying, ‘Punishment Area.’

Charlene asked, “Erm, where do I go, Miss?”

The officer gave Charlene a scowling look and said, “Over there.”

I looked and saw a doorway with a sign that said, ‘Waiting Area.’

“Thank you,” Charlene said as we both went over to the lockers.

I opened the locker and saw a gown inside. It was purple and when I took it out I saw it was like a hospital gown. The back was open below the waist with a tie-up to keep the slit closed. Until it needed to be opened I supposed.

There were instructions on the inside of the locker door. ‘Get fully undressed including bra and knickers. Have on only the Punishment Gown. Once changed go where directed by the Officers.’

Two minutes later I was changed.

Charlene looked anxiously at me and said, “Good luck,” as we parted.

I went towards the Punishment Area and Charlene to the Waiting Area.

I went through the door and was confronted by two Officers behind another desk.

“Key,” one of the Officers demanded holding out her hand.

She wore the same uniform as the Officer outside.

I handed over the key and watched the Officer punch in the code on the chain attached to the key.

“Any health issues, Hart?” one of the Officers asked.

“No, Ma’am,” I replied.

“Are you being cheeky?”

“No, Ma’am,” I replied.

“Address us as, ‘Officer,’ not Ma’am.”

“Sorry, Officer,” I replied submissively thinking she needn’t have been quite so dictatorial.

“Put your hand in the blood pressure unit, Hart,” the other Officer instructed.

I did as I was told. After a few moments I heard the beep.

“150 over 85,” the Officer noted. She looked at me and said, “You passed,” before pointing behind me and adding, “Room 5.”

I turned in the direction she pointed at and saw the sign that read, ‘Rooms One to Twenty-Five.’ I headed off in that direction.

A woman came towards me. She was crying and there were tears running down her face. That was yet another woman who was crying from her punishment. I surely didn’t remember the cane hurting that much at school. I knew I was only ever caned over my skirt but the material couldn’t have given so much padding. I started to get nervous.

I saw the number 5 on the door. It was closed so I knocked.

“Come,” came a voice from inside.

I opened the door and walked in. Two more Officers were inside. One Officer was seated behind a desk and the other was standing. There was also a table with leg and wrist restraints. Again something not used at school.

Both Officers were also dressed in the same short-sleeved shirt but they were wearing skirts. Quite short ones; and with bare legs. I even thought how sexy they looked. Women in uniforms were a turn-on for me. It was part of my make-up.

The seated Officer said, “Key, please,” in a rather self-important tone.

I showed her the key and she again typed in the number on the tag.

The Officer looked across the room at the standing Officer and said, “Hart; first timer; two lots of six strokes.”

The standing Officer asked me, “Together or separate?”

I wasn’t sure but thought it better just to get it over with. “Together please, Officer,” I replied.

The Officer ordered, “Bend over the desk so I can secure the restraints, Hart.”

I took a deep breath and bent over nestling my wrists close to the restraints. The Officer went from clasp to clasp fastening both wrists. I felt her then secure each of my ankles. Finally I felt her undo the tie-up and knew my bottom was exposed.

“Twelve judicial,” I heard the Officer say as she positioned herself to my side.

I supposed that was why the women I saw were crying. The caning at school certainly wasn’t judicial. Once again I momentarily questioned what I was doing, but quickly remembered the bills I was going to pay; and the cut-off notice that came this morning for the gas.

Even as I was thinking about the bills I felt the most awful pain right across my bottom. I heard a yelp and it did take a couple of moments to realise the sound came from me. That and the realisation the stroke was very much harder than I ever got at school.

The second stroke landed and I yelped again but this time there was less of a shock. The third stroke cut in to my bottom but I only hissed out through my clenched teeth realising the pain was now easier to deal with. In fact I was handling the caning rather well, I thought.

I kept count of the strokes. The third and fourth strokes were the hardest; at least they stung the most. The fifth hurt but less so. Different feelings started though. I knew my nipples were becoming erect and quivers raced across my pussy. Much as they did when Claire took the hairbrush to my bare bottom. I realised then that I was getting aroused by the caning. When the sixth stroke landed I told myself I was half-way through but at the same time my pussy was quivering more and I was edging an orgasm. The next two strokes heightened my feelings and by the ninth it was like I was skating through the pain; even wishing the next stroke would happen. The cane now was doing to me what Claire’s fingers did when she was deep inside me flicking my clit.

The tenth stroke had me gasping as did the eleventh. I had cum and it was wonderful. I wasn’t even thinking about the Officers. Just about Claire and what she would do to me later. I was so far in the clouds I didn’t even realise the twelfth and final stroke landed. Except for the intense pain.

I lay on the table breathing deeply coming back down to earth. I knew I was still breathing through clenched teeth even as I felt the clasps being released from my ankles.

The pain took over for a while and so even once I was released from the clasps I couldn’t move yet.

Slowly I opened my eyes but got a shock. My sight was blurred and I was worried. For a moment. Then I felt myself sob and realised I was crying.

I heard the order, “Get up, Hart.”

I eased myself up and my hands flew to my bottom. I rubbed my burning bottom and felt what I knew were raised wheals on my bottom cheeks.

I tried to gauge whether the Officers realised I had cum right there on the table. It seemed they hadn’t.

The Officers were showing no sympathy at all. “Get going, Hart. We have others to deal with, you know.”

I looked at the Officer. She had a scowl on her face but I still thought she looked sexy in her uniform.

“That way,” the Officer ordered.

I looked at the door at the far side of the room and headed for it. I didn’t look back as I opened the door, walked through, and shut it behind me.

I was back in the corridor I walked down towards the changing area and saw other women coming towards me. They gave me horrified looks and I realised I had tears running down my cheeks; just like the women I saw before I got caned.

There was one major difference as I walked back. Well two actually. The first was obvious. My bottom was stinging madly from the caning. The second caused me to smile. I knew my pussy was damp. I was actually turned on by the caning. I was thinking how much I could really cum again right then if only someone would play with me. That would have to wait a while though.

I got back to the changing area and got dressed. At least I put the gown in a basket to be cleaned. I hadn’t even thought beforehand if the gown was clean when I put it on. At least I now was sure that it was.

I was still rubbing my bottom when I went back to the desk and handed over my key.

The Officer entered the key tag number and told me, “You’ll get a confirming email, Hart.”

I nodded and then turned and collected Charlene from the Waiting Area. We didn’t talk until we left the building.

Charlene got out her phone. She looked up something then smiling showed me the screen. It was the promised email. I smiled back.

So I paid the gas bill and the credit card bill and three days later the wheals had gone. I was feeling pretty happy with myself.

A week later I got a phone call. “Hi. Charlene gave me your name and number. I have to go to the Discipline Centre for six strokes. Charlene thought you could help?”

“Sure.” I replied. “For five hundred pounds,” I added.

“Oh,” came the disappointed sounding reply. “Charlene said that she paid you five hundred pounds for twelve.”

I stayed cool. “She did. That was then and now I’m in demand. It’s up to you.”

There was silence at the other end and I was about to drop the price to three hundred when the voice at the other end said, “OK, five hundred.”

So I had my second customer. That was nine months ago. I have to allow a while for the wheals to go down each time but I still go to the Discipline Centre at least twice a month.

I was worried after a couple of times that I would be found out. That was until I got a call from one of the Officers. “I got someone who needs your service. I can put you in contact for a twenty-five per cent split.”

So I increased my market share compliments of the Officers carrying out the punishments. It even meant I could go if the wheals were still showing a bit.

I made sure I looked after myself though. Every time went straight from the Centre to Claire’s place. My girlfriend. She rubbed cold cream in to my bottom and gave me a massage. Once I was relaxed she gave me a warm-up spanking which really hurt over the cane wheals. We then went to bed and made the most amazing love.

Really I couldn't believe it. I made money like I never had before from something that most people hate but which turned me on. In fact because so many people hate being caned it meant I got a never-ending supply of customers.

It ticked so many boxes for me. I didn’t need to work any-more so could spend more time enjoying myself. All my bills got paid on time, and I had plenty of cash to spare. Just as good I was doing something that really turned me on.

I didn’t feel at all about taking peoples’ money as they preferred to pay me so they didn’t have to suffer the pain. It was my win that it got me so aroused.

I only hoped it would last long enough to let me give up work for good.