Radical Rehab – A Janus Spanking and Caning Story

A spanking and caning story from Janus magazine. For more stories click here.

There were tears in Sara’s eyes as she stared at the passing countryside. Just a year ago she seemed to have everything she could ever want. Now she was being driven against her will to a place where she knew she was going to be practically imprisoned for a month.

She was not actually going to prison, although there had been occasions in the past couple of months when that could easily have happened. The Abbey was one of the most expensive rehabilitation clinics in the Country, and for the amount her four-week stay was going to cost Sara expected there would be plenty of home comforts. Not that it was going to cost her a penny. The TV Production Company was picking up this tab. And quite right too, Sara thought.

After all, who was it who made such a fuss about her party lifestyle? So she liked to drink – was that not why they hired her to front the celebrity gossip show? Heaven knows, she was not going to get a job doing anything else, despite the expensive private education that Mummy and Daddy had paid through the nose for. She failed most of her exams, but why bother working when you know there is a nice, fat trust fund waiting for you on your twenty-first birthday? And, eventually, she would marry, and it would naturally be to a man of means. That was what girls like her did – it was inevitable.

After school and before marriage it was time for fun. And Sara had so much fun people started noticing her. Not just her own people, but ordinary people. Some of the parties she went to also featured pop stars and page three girls, so there were often photographers hanging around. With her pretty face, long brown hair and slim figure, Sara was an attractive girl, and with enough champagne inside her she could be loud and outrageous enough to be noticed. Soon her picture was appearing in the papers, and instead of the society broad sheets, it was the gossip sections of the tabloids, those dreadful rags read by builders and car mechanics.

The tabloid reporters soon found out who she was, and once they realised she was rich, upper class and boasted a double-barrelled name, they started asking her what she thought about all sorts of issues. It seemed strange to her that they should do this, and sometimes her answers seemed to provoke great amusement from the whole nation. Sara could never really work out why, but to be honest she did not really care.

When she was offered the job of fronting The Party Scene she leaped at it. She did not need the money of course, but it was something she could do. Unfortunately it was to be her downfall. Broadcasting people drank, but they seemed far more interested in drugs, and cocaine in particular. She was not that bothered to begin with, but soon found herself dabbling when a hectic schedule put her in need of something to keep her going. Unfortunately she liked it.

She liked it so much it was impossible to keep it quiet. The newspapers got wind of it, oblique references frequently popping up. Sara was not really aware of these, but she was aware of the unsuitable men she kept waking up with. The final straw was when she made a total fool of herself in front of the world’s TV cameras at a high-profile film premiere, throwing her arms around an astonished Hollywood leading man, and gabbling incoherently about all the things she would let him do to her, if she were allowed back to his hotel room. She was supposed to be interviewing him, and her bosses were not impressed.

She expected to be fired, but what actually happened was much worse. She had signed a contract, which she had not read, and found herself being threatened with a law suit which would bankrupt her, and possibly Daddy too. The only alternative was for her to sort herself out, and this was the TV company’s way of doing that.

The limo pulled up outside the main entrance to the impressive building. It had started life as a genuine abbey, before becoming an ostentatious private residence. After falling into post-war disrepair its own salvation turned out to be the business of offering hope to rich and famous burnouts.

Not that Sara knew any of this, or would have cared if she did. She just saw it as a place where she had to spend her four-week sentence, and she wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. She stepped out of the car as quickly as possible and was greeted by an attractive dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties, who appeared to be waiting for her on the large stone steps.

‘Welcome to the Abbey, Sara’ she said, her voice bright and cheerful. She wore a modern white nurse’s uniform of tunic and trousers. ‘Come with me, and I’ll take you to your room. I’m Katherine, by the way.’ She turned and led the way into the house. Sara followed, as the driver took Sara’s cases from the boot, before getting back into the limo and disappearing down the drive. Katherine stopped at the large oak doors and turned to look at the three large cases. ‘What about your luggage?’ she asked.

Sara was stunned. ‘You’ll be sending someone down for them, surely?’ she said.

‘Oh, of course, the bell boy’ said Katherine. She smiled again for a moment, till she realised she was not actually getting through to Sara. ‘No dear, here we encourage you to do the ordinary things for yourself. I’m afraid you’ll have to carry them on your own.’ And she turned to lead the way inside again.

Sara was about to argue, but found she had no one to argue with. Making a mental note to demand a discount, she struggled to pick up her bags.

The journey to her room was not easy. If the Abbey had a lift then Katherine was not disposed to use it, nor was she prepared to take one of the cases. After hauling them up the main ornamental staircase, which dominated the entrance hall, the exhausted socialite had to carry them up another, shorter flight to the second landing, then along that to a door numbered seven at the far end, where Katherine was waiting for her. As Sara caught up, Katherine opened the door and led the way in.

Sara followed, dumping her bags on the carpet as she stared around in breathless horror. ‘This is your room’ Katherine announced, ‘you’ll find everything you need here.’

Sara could not believe it. Not only were the curtains and bed linen the most drab and unimaginative she had ever seen, including her boarding school, it was also tiny. The narrow single bed, chair and cheap pine wardrobe practically filled it, leaving not enough room to swing the proverbial pussy. And Sara could not help noticing that there was only one door, and she was standing in it.

‘Excuse me’ she said, her tone deliberately sarcastic, ‘but where is the bathroom?’

‘Down the landing. There’s a shower and bath, and a couple of basins for every floor, so you’re only sharing with four other guests.’

Sara’s jaw dropped. ‘Share?’ she exploded, ‘share! I’m sorry, this really is unacceptable! The amount of money I – I mean, we – are paying you, the least you can do is organise an en suite room! I demand to be moved to a more suitable one immediately!’ And she turned up her little nose and threw her hands on her slim hips, in the pose which had struck terror into hotel managers from New York to Sydney, finding to their cost that the curtains were the wrong shade of green.

But Katherine was unmoved. She did not fluster an apology, or cower obsequiously. What she did was to give Sara a long hard stare. Sara was not used to that, and she found herself beginning to shake inside and out. She was not used to employees who did not back down when they were faced with the ultimate sanction of Sara not spending any more of other people’s money with them.

Finally Katherine moved. She walked towards Sara, but then stepped straight past her. Sara thought she was leaving, but Katherine had no intention of doing that. What she did was pull the door closed. Then she turned back to a very worried Sara. ‘It’s time you and I got a few things straight’ Katherine announced ominously.

The next five minutes Sara will always remember as a turning point in her life. It happened so fast; sometimes she was not even sure it all really happened, at least not the way she remembered it. When Katherine turned back into the room Sara thought she was going to push past her again. She did not expect to have her wrists seized, and feel herself being dragged towards the narrow divan.

Taking Sara by surprise, Katherine had no trouble pulling her down as she herself sat on the edge of the mattress. Sara had no idea where she was going, only that her head seemed to be going there first. Then the wind was knocked out of her, as her stomach landed on Katherine’s thighs. Her left arm was twisted neatly behind her back, and Katherine’s right leg clamped down across the backs of her thighs. Far too late to escape, Sara realised she had been put across Katherine’s lap, with her bottom unprotected and vulnerable. Sara may not have been very bright, but she knew why people put other people across their laps – to spank them.

Katherine’s hand landed on the seat of Sara’s designer label mini-skirt. She had wriggled and squealed all the while Katherine had been hauling her into position, but the shock of the first slap stunned her into silence. The second seemed to wake her up, and she began wailing, uttering the most unladylike oaths and threats she could think of. Katherine was unmoved, and the rain of heavy blows was unrelenting, as her left hand and both legs held the struggling Sara like a vice.

The spanking stopped, and so did Sara, blowing hard, pleased it was over and framing in her mind how she was going to make clear her utter shock at being treated so scandalously and disrespectfully. She thought she had the words, but her mind emptied as she felt Katherine’s fingers at the hem of her skirt. ‘No!’ she howled, twisting like fury.

‘Yes!’ said Katherine triumphantly, as the shiny snakeskin garment was pulled up. Sara’s bottom was exposed, literally. At that precise moment, and for the first time in her young life, she regretted having her thong as her underwear of choice. Katherine looked at the tiny piece of string that disappeared into Sara’s cleft, hissed ‘slut!’ under her breath, then resumed the spanking, this time on her bare bottom.

Now it really hurt, and Sara began to cry, tears of pain from the spanking, then shame when Katherine began to lecture her: ‘This is not a hotel, you are not here to be pampered; you are here to be cured of your bad habits; you are an arrogant, spoiled little bitch, and someone should have done this to you ages ago; from now, until you leave here, you will do exactly as you are told; do you understand?’

Katherine paused, and Sara tried to take advantage by squirming free. It was no good, the woman was obviously used to holding people captive whilst she handed out such undignified punishments. The torrent of slaps resumed, but much harder this time. ‘Do you understand?’ she repeated, with more menace.

‘Yes! Yes, I understand! I’ll do as I’m told!’ Sara sobbed. Suddenly she felt very exposed, almost as if she were a schoolgirl again, back under the strict guidance of her teachers. Not that any of them would have dared do this to her – Daddy would have had her out of there in an instant had that ever happened.

‘Excellent!’ announced Katherine, finishing with a volley of hard spanks that made Sara squeal again. Then she found herself being hauled upright, before being tipped backwards onto her bottom, wincing as she landed on the sore and abused flesh.

Katherine got up and headed to the door, without a trace of emotion on her stern face. She turned and looked down at the undignified heap that Sara had become, before leaving. ‘Dinner is in half an hour – the dining room is down the stairs on your left – and if you don’t turn up for a meal on time, you don’t get fed. Do you think you can follow a rule as simple as that? And you’ll eat what you’re given, no complaining because the food isn’t cordon bleu. Afterwards there’s a special treatment session in the main common room on the opposite side of the hall from the dining room. I want you there; you need to see more of our methods so you understand why it’s in your interests to do as you’re told. Don’t be late.’ And with that Katherine was gone, the door clicking behind her.

Sara finally got her breath back, and stood gingerly. She pulled down her skirt and made herself decent again. Staggering to the bathroom, and glad to find it empty, she washed her face to get rid of her tear-streaked make-up, then ran her face flannel under a cold tap and dived into a cubicle. Lifting her skirt, she applied it to her smarting bottom and sighed in relief.

Then she heard the door open and Sara froze in horror. Safe in her stall, she was hidden from view, but still did not feel up to meeting any of the other guests in this state. She heard the taps of two basins being run, along with the voices of a pair of young women, evidently here to wash their hands before dinner. But if she was alarmed at their arrival, she was to be horrified by their conversation.

‘Did you hear the racket from room seven just now?’

‘Certainly did. Sounds like Katherine had to get straight to business with the new girl. I’m not surprised though – do you know who she is?’


‘Only that Sara Pointlessly-Hyphenated bitch who’s all over the telly and the tabloids. That ‘It’ girl who got famous for being famous. Oh, and for having a rich daddy.’


‘The very same. Had booze and drugs problems for months, apparently. The last straw was when she was caught giving some B-list pop star a blow job in the toilets of some swanky night club.’

‘Sounds like she needs Katherine’s help more than we do. I wonder how she liked her first taste of the Abbey Treatment?’

‘You heard what a fuss she kicked up. God knows what she’ll think when she sees what’s going to happen to poor Natasha this evening.’

‘Quite. Now there’s a girl who’s shoes I wouldn’t want to be in!’

The voices tailed off as the unseen girls left the bathroom. Sara emerged from the cubicle even more alarmed than before, and a little put out. She had heard that story about herself and the pop star before, and it was not true. Well, at least she could not remember doing it.

She did not have much of an appetite, but still decided to go to dinner. For all she knew, not going could give that beastly woman another excuse to smack her bottom. She found the dining room without any trouble, and was shocked, although not by now surprised, to discover it was self-service, and for some very basic food.

Taking a small portion of mashed potatoes and a couple of sausages, she found a solitary table in the corner where she picked at her food, trying not to make eye contact with any of the other guests, who were eating around her. One or two she recognised, household names she was astonished to see here. Everyone seemed to know her, and there were plenty of winks and nudges. For the first time ever Sara was not happy about her celebrity status.

The one thing she did have in common with her fellow guests is that they were all young women, mostly in their twenties, a couple in their early thirties. The clientele of the Abbey was exclusively female, and this was one of the reasons for its selection, according to the TV executive who told Sara she was going. She had been distracted by men often enough, he had said. She needed to be in a place where her libido could take a break, as well as her nose and liver.

She had only half-finished her food by the time Katherine appeared. She clapped loudly and the quiet murmur disappeared completely. ‘I hope you enjoyed your tea ladies. Now, as you all know, a spot check of some of the rooms last night had a disappointing result. Some whisky miniatures were found hidden underneath Natasha’s mattress.’ Nervous laughter ran around the room. ‘She’s confessed, and is waiting in the lounge for her punishment, which is, for this serious offence, public. If you would all like to go through and take your seats. Attendance is mandatory, not just for Natasha’s benefit, but also for yours, in case any of you had ideas about trying the same thing. Come on now.’

The group of about n dozen young women trooped out of the dining room, all taking their plates and crockery back to the main service table before they went. Too used to restaurants, Sara left hers where they were. A sharp rebuke from Katherine had her scuttling back to correct her mistake, blushing with shame and grateful no one was left to witness it.

This made her the last to reach the lounge, and she was astonished at what she found there. The name Natasha had meant nothing to her, but now she saw to whom it belonged. Standing alone before the audience was one of the most famous young female singers in the world. Sara gasped. This girl was so well known even she would not have needed a researcher to explain who she was.

Now she looked very unhappy. A sex symbol lusted after by millions, she wore her trademark baggy T-shirt, combats and expensive trainers. Her hair, boyishly short and jet black, framed her beautiful elfin face perfectly. On her right wrist there hung a big bunch of silver bangles, while on her left she wore a large, trendy black sports watch. She wore no other jewellery, and her face, much paler than normal, was cast to the floor with a very apprehensive look.

Her hands were clasped before her, even though there was a straight-backed chair beside her. The other girls had all sat down in the various armchairs and sofas around the common room. Sara found another wooden chair in the corner and slipped her still-sensitive bottom onto it.

Katherine arrived and there was an audible drawing of breath in the room. Natasha looked up at her, and was visibly trembling. Katherine was carrying something, something long and thin. Sara peered at it from her seat in the back row, and could not believe her eyes when they fixed on the curved handle in Katherine’s fist. She was clutching an old-fashioned school cane.

Katherine addressed the shaking girl. ‘They all know why you’re here’ she told her, indicating the rest of the guests with the tip of the cane, and you’ve been told what to do, so let’s not waste time. Get on with it.’

Natasha’s shaking fingers went to the large buckle of her belt, and she fumbled it undone, before unbuttoning and unzipping her combat pants. Letting them go, they dropped to her ankles, exposing a pair of very shapely tanned legs. Reaching underneath the hem of her black T-shirt, there was a snap of elastic and sound of fabric sliding over her smooth skin until Natasha’s skimpy maroon knickers appeared, on their way to join her trousers. She kept her eyes on the carpet all the time, and her T-shirt was al least long enough to cover her pubes, sparing her the humiliation of total exposure to the audience.

‘Turn around and show everyone your bottom’ Katherine barked. Somewhat hampered by her crumpled combats, the unfortunate girl shuttled around and bent forward over the chair, its purpose now clear to Sara. With a gulp that was audible to everyone, Natasha reached back and flicked the tail of her T-shirt up to reveal one of the most desired bottoms in the celebrity world. And everyone gasped when they saw it.

It was red, with vivid handprints all over. ‘That’s right’ said Katherine, ‘she’s had a good hand spanking in her room, while you were all having dinner. You all got one from me sooner or later, although it didn’t take one or two of you very long to get the wrong side of me.’ Sara blushed furiously, as Katherine shot her a pointed glance. ‘But the full penalty for alcoholic or narcotic contraband is, and always has been, this – a public caning on the bare bottom. Brace yourself Natasha.’

The brunette’s hands were placed on the chair seat, and her fingers tightened around the edges. Katherine lined the cane up along the centre of both cheeks, held it still for a second, drew it back, then swished it across Natasha’s bottom with a mighty whistle and crack. ‘Aaagh!’ the poor girl screamed.

‘Keep still! Count it!’

‘Oh! One… thank you, Katherine!’ Natasha’s beautiful voice, normally used to pump out rock numbers or power ballads, was thick with real pain and emotion. Katherine gave her a few seconds before delivering the second stroke. ‘Aaah! Two, thank you Katherine!’ Another moment of brief respite, then the cane cracked across the slim but curved cheeks once again. ‘Oooh! Three, thank you Katherine!’

‘Good girl. Halfway there’ said Katherine, as she paused to stroke the abused and striped bottom, making its owner shiver in fear. ‘I hope you’re all paying very close attention’ she added, addressing her ashen-faced and silent audience. ‘This is what would happen to each and every one of you if you’re caught with booze or drugs.’

She took her left hand away from Natasha’s skin before the cane swiped down for a fourth time. ‘Eeeeah! Four, thank you Katherine.’ Natasha’s feet drummed on the floor. She was in real pain.

‘I don’t care if you are a multi-million selling pop star, or a top soap actress, or a posh bitch with a trust fund, you’re all here to be taught that there are limits…’ The cane punctuated Katherine’s sentence. ‘…And you must all learn not to cross them.’

‘Five, thank you Katherine’ Natasha sobbed, clearly in tears. She was allowed a little longer before the cane crashed down for the last time. ‘Aaah! Six… six, thank you, Katherine.’ Her voice tailed off into a pathetic snivel.

But Katherine was unmoved. ‘Stand up’ she snapped. Natasha did so, stiffly. ‘Pull your knickers up. And your trousers.’ Moving awkwardly, the girl obeyed. ‘Turn around.’ She shuffled round to face the audience, her make-up ruined by her tears. Katherine put her fingers under Natasha’s chin and lifted it to look straight into her beautiful green eyes. ‘God, look at the state of you! Well, let it be a lesson to you – all of you – don’t drink the wine if you can’t pay the fine. Now get off to bed, and don’t show your face till breakfast.’

As Natasha slunk out the room, one hand rubbing her bottom and the other rubbing her eyes, Sara checked her Cartier watch. It was barely seven! She was not sure which would be worse, the pain of the caning or the humiliation of being publicly sent to bed like a naughty child. Then she remembered how much a simple spanking had hurt, and guessed she would take the early-to-bed-with-no-supper option any day. So much so that, even as the other girls switched on the TV in the corner, or reached onto a shelf for a collection of board games, she too decided on a very early night.

The turbulent emotions caused by the events of the last few hours had exhausted Sara and she dozed off almost immediately, then slept like a log till she was woken by the early sunlight filtering through the thin curtains. She was used to waking up in strange bedrooms, either alone or with a new male companion, and for a moment she wondered where she was. Then the remains of a dull ache in her bottom reminded her.

She stumbled out of bed and wrapped herself in a silk robe, then picked up her towel and sponge bag and headed for the bathroom. She was relieved to find no one else using it yet, and even more pleased to discover there was plenty of hot water. She spent longer luxuriating under the hot jets than she really needed to, and only got out when a knock on her cubicle door told her others wanted to use the it. She quickly wrapped herself in her towel to shield her modesty, before grabbing her robe and scampering back to her room past three surly looking girls, who shot her annoyed glances as she went.

She planned to have breakfast alone again, and had almost finished her cereal when a voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘Mind if I sit here?’ Sara looked up to see Natasha standing beside her with a tray of food.

‘Of course.’ Sara was taken by surprise, but indicated the spare chair opposite her. She noticed Natasha wince as she parked her bottom on the hard seat. This morning she was really dressed down, wearing baggy jogging bottoms and a hooded lop, as if she were about to go running. She wore no make-up at all.

‘Thanks’ the beautiful singer whispered. ‘After last night I think everyone’s avoiding me. They probably don’t know what to say.’

‘Does it still hurt?’ This was all Sara could think of herself.

‘I’ll say! I slept on my tummy all night! And the humiliation – honestly, I cried myself to sleep.’ Sara could see by the redness of her eyes that Natasha was not kidding.

They chatted happily for ten minutes, until they realised they were the last in the dining room. As they got up to leave Katherine appeared and walked straight to them. ‘Sara, you’ll come with me right now.’ Her tone was curt and clipped, brooking no dispute.

‘Is there something wrong?’ Natasha asked, apparently anxious to defend her new friend, who had been frightened into silence.

‘This doesn’t concern you. You’ve got a class in reinforcing a positive self-image to get to, and you’ve been in enough trouble with me already. I suggest you get to it.’ Suitable chastened, Natasha hurried away, casting a nervous glance at Sara as she went. ‘Now follow me’ Katherine ordered the frightened It Girl.

The older woman led the way to the bathroom, where she flung open the door. ‘I believe you are responsible for this’ she said. The floor was soaked, with a trail leading to the cubicle Sara had used half-an-hour ago. The basin she had used when she cleaned her teeth and prepared her face before breakfast was in a similar slate, with smear marks around it and some discarded make-up packets on the shelf in front of the mirror.

‘I – I think I did use that shower and basin’ Sara stammered, ‘but haven’t the cleaners…’

‘Haven’t the cleaners picked up your mess for you?’ Katherine finished the sentence for her. ‘At the Abbey we don’t have cleaners. The emphasis is on taking responsibility for your own actions, whether that means cleaning up after yourself in the bathroom or acknowledging you’re to blame for your addictions. This is as good a place to start. You’ll find the cleaning gear in that cupboard.’

‘You mean you want me to…’

‘Mop, bucket, cloths and cleaning fluid. And I suggest you put on an older pair of jeans than those. Even I know that designer label retails at a hundred and fifty pounds a pair, and those are almost new. Same goes for that smart sweater.’

‘But… but these are the oldest clothes I have! I give all my old stuff to charity shops once the right people have moved to new designs.’

‘You have no idea how pretentious you sound, my sweet. Okay, if you have no suitable working clothes, you’ll have to do it school PE style.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘In your bra and pants.’ Sara stared at her in horror, but Katherine cut off any further protest. ‘You’re going to do it, so if I were you I would do it now, because you’re getting very close to doing it after you’ve had my hand on your bottom again. And this time I won’t be so gentle.’

Sara was not sure what she should do, but she knew she did not want another spanking, so miserably pulled her jumper over her head. Katherine held out her hand and look the garment from her, so she could slip off her sandals and unbutton and unzip her expensive jeans. They dropped to the bathroom floor and she stepped out of them. Katherine took them and threw them over her left arm, before stooping to pick up the sandals. ‘I’ll take these to your room’ she said. ‘I see your liking for labels extends to your intimates.’ With her right hand Katherine grabbed the elastic in the small of Sara’s back, pulled her black knickers open and peered inside, right at her bottom. ‘Hmmm, DKNY. Top of the range, bra and panty set’ she said. ‘I can only afford M and S or BHS, the pittance I get for babysitting stuck-up brats like you. Would you like me to take these back to your room too? At least they won’t get messed up if you work in the buff, and it’s possible no one will come in while you’re doing it.’

‘N-no, really, I’ll keep them on!’ sobbed Sara.

‘As you wish’ said Katherine, releasing the waistband so it snapped back into place, drawing a howl of shock and pain from Sara. ‘Now get on with it!’ Sara squeaked again as Katherine slapped her bottom, then was gone.

Deeply ashamed and humiliated, Sara knelt and opened the cupboard. One by one, she removed each cleaning article and examined it. It took some time, but she worked out what each one was for and set about using them. It had never occurred her that she had enjoyed such a sheltered childhood until now, when she realised her only experience of cleaning a bathroom had come from watching others, domestics at home, school or in the best hotels. She never imagined she would be doing the work herself, much less after being forcibly stripped to her bra and knickers.

Nevertheless she worked away, and finally stood back, pleased that she had actually done a passable job. Stowing the cleaning things carefully back in the cupboard (she had learned her lesson), she decided to dash back to her room and hope she made it before being spotted, where she could change her crumpled and grubby underwear and retrieve her clothes. She opened the door and peeked around it. There was no one there. She scampered along the corridor and grabbed the handle to her room, dived inside and slammed the door behind her. She closed her eyes, then opened them again and nearly leaped out of her skin.

Katherine was still there, sitting quietly on the bed. Had she been there all this time? And what was she waiting for? Sara did not like the expression on her face. ‘You’re still here?’ Sara mumbled.

‘I certainly am’ Katherine replied, ‘and I have some bad news for you.’

‘B…bad news?’ Sara was mystified.

‘Very bad. I decided to put your clothes back in your case for you. And do you know what fell out of one of the inside pockets when I opened it?’

‘Er… no?’ But Sara was beginning to have a vague and horrible idea what it might be.

‘This’ said Katherine, pulling a small plastic packet of white powder from the top pocket of her nurse’s tunic. ‘Any explanations?’

Sara’s mind flew back into the haze that was the last few weeks. She could just about remember a nice young man at a party in New York giving her the packet, and how she stowed it carefully in the lining of her case. Evidently not careful enough to fool this nosy cow. She did not believe for a moment it fell out of any inside pockets. But she was caught bang to rights. ‘I… I got it ages ago. I forgot it was there. I wasn’t going to use it, I promise.’

But her entreaties fell on deaf ears. ‘Save your breath sweetheart. You’ll need it for crying when I’ve done with you.’ Sara blanched when she realised what Katherine meant. ‘You saw what happened to Natasha when I found drink in her room. You needn’t think the penalty for drugs is any different. Downstairs, now.’

‘But can’t I get some clothes…’

‘No point. Your pretty arse is going to be bared for your punishment, so why do you need to cover it up now? Come on.’

Katherine rose and took hold of Sara’s ear. Half-dragging and half-guiding her, she escorted the unhappy girl to the sitting room, where she was placed on a wooden chair in front of all the other empty seats. ‘Now wait here while I round up everyone else’ Katherine told her, before disappearing.

Sara remained frozen in the chair, too frightened to move, as one by one the other girls drifted in. She kept her head bowed to avoid eye contact with them, although she did look up once when she heard Natasha whisper her name. ‘Don’t worry, it’ll soon be over’ the dark-eyed beauty breathed, before taking her seat at the back of the room, just before Katherine arrived. Sara looked up again and gulped when she saw she carried the long thin cane. The muscles of her bottom twitched involuntarily. ‘I’m sorry to have to gather you here at such short notice’ Katherine announced to the expectant audience of young women, but, less than twenty-four hours after dispensing discipline for one breach of the rules, I find there has been a second, much more serious misdemeanour. This young lady feels a rehabilitation clinic is the ideal place into which to bring cocaine.’ There was a murmur of shock and apprehension throughout the room, before Katherine went on. ‘Of course there can only be one punishment, we all know what it is, and so I suggest we get on with it. Sara, stand up, turn the chair around and bend over the backrest.’

Sara was too overwhelmed to resist, so, with tears in her eyes, she got to shaky feet and did as she had been told. She had always been proud of her slim frame, but her bottom felt enormous as she leaned forward and presented it to her peers. Suddenly she felt Katherine’s hands at the waistband of her panties, and gasped in shock as they were pulled down and sent to rest on the floor about her ankles. She had done lingerie shoots for a couple of mid-shelf lads’ mags, but the pants had always stayed on. Besides, she knew she was still displaying some redness from yesterday’s spanking.

She felt the cane tap against her helpless bottom, and barely managed to suppress a gulp. ‘It’ll be six, just the same as you saw Natasha getting, and I’ll have each one counted with a nice loud ‘thank you, Katherine’ afterwards, her tormentor ordered. Here we go!’

There was a momentary silence and Sara closed her eyes and pictured the cane being lifted, as she had seen Katherine do the night before. Then there was a whistling noise and a sharp ‘thwack!’, followed a micro-second later by the sensation of a thousand red hot needles being shoved into her bottom, all in a line. At least, that’s how it felt to her. She yelled in pain and shock.

‘Oh dear’ she heard Katherine say after a few seconds. ‘I do hate repeating myself. Since that was the first stroke, I’ll not repeat it – provided you count it for me right now!’

‘Oh! One, thank you Katherine!’ Sara had genuinely forgot, but counting it only made her wonder how she was going to take five more of those.

She did not have long to find out. The second crashed down almost immediately. ‘Aaaah! Ah! Two, thank you Katherine!’ She was allowed a few seconds to recover, before number three landed, making her jolt forward and knocking her breath from her lungs. She sucked in a mouthful of air before counting it off.

Number four was bad, but did not seem as bad as the others, for some strange reason. By number five Sara assumed she had just become numb, and was not as sensitive to the latter strokes as she had been to the first couple. But this thought was dispelled by the sixth, a real stinger that Katherine laid squarely across the meat of her bottom. ‘Eeeaah! Oh my God! Oooh! Oh, six thank you Katherine!’ she wailed through eyes misted with salt water. It hurt like hell, but she knew it was over, and she was still alive. She even found herself taking a slightly perverse pride in the muttering of the assembled audience, knowing they must be talking about how severe a caning she had just taken.

‘Stand up.’ Katherine’s instruction was terse and businesslike. She obeyed, rubbing her bottom as she did so, drawing some relief from the action. ‘Pull your knickers back up.’ Sara bent to do so, not caring what she showed the other girls as she did so. Pain was all to her at the moment. ‘Now get to your room for the rest of the day, and think what it means to be a spoilt, self-indulgent brat.’

As she limped to the door she mostly kept her head down, but did look up once, to catch a couple of knowing winks, including one from Natasha. Five minutes later, naked and face down on her bed, she reflected on what a long month this was going to be.

Of course, Sara could not keep out of trouble. Almost every other day she found herself being spanked in her room, after Katherine came up with some excuse to discipline her, from not going to bed early, to listening to her personal stereo so loudly in the lounge that the other girls could not hear the television properly. Try as she might, she could not avoid being taken to her room to have her knickers taken down and her bare bottom smacked hard. But she did manage to avoid another public caning, an experience she was in no hurry to repeat.

So when her final day arrived and she packed her bags, she was quite happy to bid a civil but frosty farewell to Katherine, knowing she would never see her again, far less feel the wrath of her angry palm. She climbed into the limo and watched the grounds roll slowly by as they drove towards the gate. ‘Straight home please’ she told the driver. She was not even in the mood for a detour via Harvey Nicholls.

‘I’m sorry Miss. I have strict orders not to take you home’ the driver said gruffly.

‘Not to… well, where are you going to take me then?’

‘To the producers’ offices, miss. They want to see you straight away.’ Sara relaxed and settled back into her seat. They probably want to apologise for sending me to that awful place, she thought. Or maybe I’m going to be offered more money, now I’ve cleaned up my act? Or maybe even my own talk show? She continued to daydream as the luxurious white car joined the A3 and cruised towards central London.

She was dropped outside the smart West End office block, and sashayed in without a word to the receptionist. Several admiring looks followed her slim figure down the hall, clad as she was in expensive black leather jeans which hugged her slim contours perfectly, as did the black cashmere sweater.

She found her producer’s office and walked in without knocking, feeling her old arrogance beginning to return now she was back in the real world. Her producer, a healthy-looking man in his forties, a pastel green designer suit and purple shirt, looked up. He smiled at her. ‘Sara! How nice to see you back! Take a seat.’

She sank into the armchair in the corner of the room, and was about to launch into a tirade against the Abbey and its brutal methods, but the producer spoke again before she could put her thoughts into words.

‘I’m glad you completed the Abbey course. I know how unconventional some of the techniques are, but they do get results. Of course, getting you clean for now is only part of the process. We have to keep you clean, and to that end we’ve enlisted a little help. I think you know Katherine.’

The door opened and closed again to admit the woman Sara had grown to loathe over the past four weeks. She stared at her aghast – not only was she here, she was carrying her cane!

‘You may have noticed your limo taking a couple of scenic detours on the route up here. We sent a second car to the Abbey, which got back here before yours. The fact is Sara that if you want to continue working for us, and not get yourself sued for breach of contract, this is the deal. Every Monday morning you come here at nine AM. We take a breath and urine sample, and if there’s any trace of alcohol or drugs, Katherine will provide suitable discipline. Her fee is a combination of cash and shares in our company, so she has every incentive to cane you hard if you stray from the straight and narrow. And just to make sure you know we’re not bluffing she’s going to give you half-a-dozen here and now. I know it might not seem fair, seeing as you haven’t done anything, but, well, life isn’t fair, is it?’

‘Come on Sara. Take down those tarty trousers, and whatever elastic string you have passing for knickers underneath, and get over the desk.’ Katherine flexed the cane in front of her as she issued her orders. Sara stood up and obeyed, almost as if she were in a trance. Or was it a nightmare?

As she was stripped naked from the waist to the ankles and placed in position for the first wicked stroke of the cane, she wondered how many more weeks would begin like this.

She knew herself. She knew she was weak. She knew there would be many.