Althea Jones

Althea Jones had been sixteen when she had joined the court service as an assistant to the probation officer. When the Punishment Centers had been first planned she had seen the advertisement for staff in the Government employee's magazine. Although she had not realised the full import of the new department, she had read with interest the prospects of advancement and promotion. The one word that had taken her eye from the start had even sent a thrill of excitement through her… the word ‘Punishment'.

It had been a pleasant surprise when she had learned the actualities of the center's purpose and methods… and had been more of a surprise to her when she had been promoted to the front counter; the Center's first point of contact with offenders. She soon realised that her job was not just looking after the first reception of the offender, but that she was playing an integral part in the conditioning of the convicted criminal.

Althea had, for as long as she could remember, known that she was different. Not in any outward appearance, other than that she was extremely pretty: but in the fact that she liked to dominate boys.

Her realization had come very early on in her young life. She had seen an old illustration in a book in her father's library. It had shown a young woman, smartly dressed in epaulette'd uniform, smacking the bared bottom of a young teenage boy. His trousers had been pulled down to his ankles and he seemed to be screaming furiously as the young lady's hand descended onto the reddened cheeks of his bottom.

She could not recognise the uniform, but the setting seemed to be an official place of punishment, she thought that perhaps because of the style and setting of the room that it might in a police station. There was no reference to the illustration, and as the book was written in German she was unable to read the text.

Time and time again, she had waited until her parents were out and taken the book from the shelf to gaze at the illustration.

She had told no-one of her discovery and had never discussed, even with her closest friends, how that vivid illustration had made her feel.

As she became older she realised that she was indeed different to the rest of her girlfriends. Instead of their gushing enthusiasm at being kissed on the lips by this boy or that, she had, had an entirely different view of the opposite sex.

Her fantasies involved subjugating boys on every level, including her favourite image of taking his trousers down and holding his penis while she spanked his bottom.

She had eventually, after very careful consideration, chosen a boyfriend. Not the muscular football player that most girls seemed to favour, but a slim, well- proportioned boy, just a year older than herself. Her choice had suited her well, although for the boy, the pleasures were at best… mixed.

Her first date was planned to perfection. Instead of the movies or dance, she had invited him home for the evening while her parents were away overnight. She had carefully and expertly teased him, with little and affectionate touches; a hand gently caressing his cheek, or her face touching his as she leaned over him to pass him a drink.

The boy had responded, although timidly, by thinking that he could go further. It was his first fumbled sexual advance, as he tried to touch her breasts, which sealed the relationship.

She had jumped up as if utterly shocked. Her protests making the boy blush nervously and then shake with dear as she threatened to tell not only her parents, but also to phone his mother, whom she knew to be exceedingly prim.

The result was that either he was punished by her or she would tell, embellishing the description of his fumbling to that of attempted rape.

Relieved at first, he had agreed… only to realise in shock and anguish, what the alternative would be.

It had taken some time, before he realised that her threat was real and serious. She had emphasized what the dire consequences of his parents being informed would actually mean to him… and suggested that it was possible that the school would find out. It never once occurred to him, that he had been cleverly and expertly set-up.

Althea often smiled to her self at the thought that in reality it had only taken an hour and a half from him walking through her front door, to the scene she remembered vividly.

She had made him strip to his under shorts, knowing that it would have taken a lot longer to get him to part with them willingly. She had eventually coaxed him to lie over her pretty knees. Once in position she had quickly pulled the garment down to his thighs, his shock at being bared so intimately had made him cling to his position rather than reveal his penis and testicles to her gaze.

The rest had been easy. A hairbrush placed conveniently and innocently beside her chair was quickly brought into play. He had cried and gasped with the realisation that he was indeed being spanked. The fire in his buttocks had brought him to floods of tears as he was relentlessly spanked with the hard-backed brush.

"What a naughty cry-baby you are… thinking that you could have your way with me… how disgusting… aren't you ashamed of yourself?" Her words had so belittled him that it was a few seconds before he realised that his under-shorts had been briskly pulled down to his ankles. It had taken Althea no effort at all to entirely remove the garments… or to deftly grasp his testicles by thrusting her hand between his legs and grasping the delicate orbs of flesh in her slender fingers.

Although she had had no experience, she managed to hold them firmly, but without causing undue pain. Still holding him, she had made him stand with his back to her, as she retained her grip on him.

After that, her confidence grew. She slipped her other hand around his hips and grasped his penis, which she suddenly realised had stiffened to become semi-erect. She had made him turn towards her, and had used both hands to hold his penis and testicles from the front; gripping him firmly with a threat to squeeze harder if he did not obey.

Her triumph over him was the culmination of all her fantasies. She had manipulated him to her will. The rest of the evening for Althea was relaxed and enjoyed entirely at her leisure. In protest and shame she had spanked him while he was standing up. She had made him stand sideways, holding his penis firmly in her hand while she had laid more strokes of the hair-brush over his buttocks until he had sobbed and begged for her to stop.

For Althea, the grand finale… the epitome of his shame had been carried out in a delicious sexual ritual: she had made him kneel on the thick arms of her easy chair with his head hanging over the cushioned back and with a large bath towel underneath him.

As he hung his head in shame and anguish, she had applied baby lotion to his bottom, her hand smoothing over his buttocks as she spoke to him.

"Poor baby, did I hurt you very much, never mind, it will all be better soon."

He was blushing and trembling as her fingers first brushed against his tightly closed sphincter. Impudently she had insinuated her finger-tip up through the opening, experimenting with varying movements and pressure until she had found the soft mound of his prostate.

Her knowledge of its location had already been carefully and diligently researched in the copious volumes of anatomy books she had taken from the public library.

He had gasped and groaned, his anguish almost palpable as she had reached around his hips, her hand brushing over his tummy as it moved down to his erect penis.

He had continued to gasp and groan, almost wailing in anguish and embarrassment as she retracted his foreskin for the first time.

She had, with increasing dexterity milked him… keeping a steady rhythm within his bottom and over the sensitive flesh of his penis. She had grown bolder and more vigorous; his gasps and groans giving her excellent clues as to the effect of her manipulation to his prostate and penis.

Within minutes he was ejaculating wildly; his body shaking and trembling as he gasped for air. She did not stop until she had milked the very last drop from him.

She smiled as she thought back to that time. She had honed her dominant skills and her sexual technique to perfection upon her reluctant model. She had made him attend her house when ever circumstances permitted it. She had spanked him and milked him to her hearts content, each time the pain and pleasure, more exquisite, more unbearable. For the seventeen months until she had left school, she had experimented with his body and his psyche. The vivid illustration in her fathers book brought to life.

She looked over to where the young man was seated. She had already admired his good looks and clean cut appearance. It was usually the tattooed young hooligans that were the bread and butter of the center's reluctant clientele. They were usually scruffy, most of them ugly and brash, certainly not the type of youth that would have taken her interest. This one seemed different. He was well spoken, perhaps timid, but certainly attractive. His body looked trim and lithe and he seemed fit and healthy.

She noted that he had blushed several times as he had looked across at her, perhaps it was because of his embarrassment at his crime… or perhaps she thought, that he was embarrassed about her knowing that he had had to attend for punishment.

One thing, that she was certain of… was that he had not even the remotest idea of what his punishment would be. She squeezed her legs together at the delicious thought.