Photo-story from Janus 48, in which we again meet Dr Matthew Handley from Moral Welfare and Dr Handley’s Private Practice.
Dr Matthew Handley glanced at his watch. Five minutes to go. Not that he expected her to be late, she was too frightened for that. He knew Nurse Brierley to be a very proper, quite docile young English girl and with the relative enormity of what she had done… oh no, she wouldn’t dare to be late. Just as she had been so ready to agree to what he had suggested. Anything so long as her action could be hushed up. Because stealing amphetamines was an extremely serious matter and if it was made public there was no doubt Claire Brierley would be kicked out — dismissed from her profession.
Matthew Handley, consultant radiologist at the hospital, had no wish to see Claire Brierley scandalously disgraced: she was a very conscientious, competent nurse and a very attractive one as well, and it was most unfortunate that such an essentially nice girl should get involved with a boyfriend who had been able to persuade her to do what she had done. Most unfortunate and it would be a sad thing if the nursing profession had to lose such an excellent member because of this one irresponsible act. On the other hand if it was not to go any further it was clear that Nurse Brierley must be given a lesson that she would not want to forget in a hurry.
So reasoned Dr Handley. And it had not taken him long to think of a suitable lesson. As it happened Matthew Handley possessed the very instrument with which to impart such a lesson, namely a three-foot-long cane, already to hand in his consulting room — hidden at the back of a filing cabinet. There had been a time in Matthew Handley’s career when he had used it rather more frequently, but since taking up his present important post all that was a thing of the past. However… in the present circumstances an exception could be made. Indeed should be made: he was after all acting in the best interests of the girl and of the medical profession as well.
A discreet, nervous knock at the door. Matthew Handley glanced at his watch again. Yes, as he had supposed, precisely on time.
‘Come in please.’
Claire Brierley entered — with that kind of nauseous feeling you have when going in for an unpleasant interview, or perhaps a visit to the dentist. This, though, was going to be far worse than any visit to the dentist. Claire knew what was going to happen. When Dr Handley had interviewed her yesterday he had told her quite explicitly what her punishment would be.
He had chosen something that would be both painful and humiliating. Dr Handley had told her it was intended to be both of those things in order to teach her a lesson she would never forget. Claire of course had had no option but to agree; in a way she had been happy to agree, and truly grateful. But it would be too much to say Claire was happy now as she entered and quietly closed the door, then stood feet together and knees trembling before him. She was extremely anxious; her palms were perspiring and her chest felt cramped.
Dr Handley took off his glasses in that characteristic manner and gave her a frank stare. Very good, Nurse; I am pleased to see you are on time.’
Claire quivered as Dr Handley began a homily about breach of trust, gross irresponsibility, criminal misbehaviour and a lot of other things like that; an embellished repeat of what he had delivered yesterday when he had had Claire in here and confronted her with what Nurse Colney had told him, and Claire had had no option but to admit it was true. She had broken down in tears then and was very much afraid that she was going to do the same now. He then went on about the grave perils of drug abuse.
Claire didn’t know why she had done it. She had tearfully told Dr Handley that and it was true. Simon, her boyfriend had kept on at her once she had foolishly told him she had access to the pharmaceuticals cabinet but even so Claire didn’t know why she had finally agreed. She was always a highly responsible girl and extremely proud to be a nurse, with the high traditions of public service and standards. To have let herself and her profession down in this way was virtually as bad as she knew the consequences would be should her action be made public.
Claire simply didn’t know why she had done it: it was just one of those momentary aberrations that can come to even the most reliable of people — and unfortunately Jill Colney had seen her, the very first time she had ever tried it. But how was he to know that it was the one and only occasion?
Dr Handley was saying it all again, piling on the agony. And it was agony: Claire bit her lip, afraid the tears would come flooding out at any moment.
Well, what’s done is done,’ Dr Handley said finally. ‘And as I have said, I don’t think anyone’s best interest will be served by following regulations and going to the Senior Nursing Officer. I have settled the matter with Nurse Colney. I have told her you were in fact reviewing our stocks and had removed the bottle merely to check its shelf date. So I think that will be all right. The matter now rests between the two of us. And we have agreed, I think, how it should be resolved.’
Dr Handley raised an enquiring eyebrow and Claire produced a whispered ‘Yes, sir. Thank you very much, sir.’
‘Good.’ He stepped briskly over to the door, locked it, and then came back. Reaching behind his filing cabinet Dr Handley drew out a long wicked-looking cane.
‘I take it you are dressed as instructed, Nurse?’
Claire nodded, her gaze transfixed by that awful cane which Dr Handley now held in front of her. Not tights, he had said; they would be awkward for what was to take place. Claire was to wear proper stockings, black of course, fastened with a suspender belt.
Dr Handley’s eyes had flickered behind the thick-rimmed spectacles. ‘And I think it would look neat and proper if you wore black knickers as well, Nurse Brierley.’
Claire had flushed. Specifying her underwear had fully brought home the reality of what was to take place. It was possible also that Dr Handley was specifying what would be most titillating for him — but Claire had no choice in the matter. She had gone out afterwards and bought black nylons and a suspender belt. She already had black knickers.
Dr Handley now pursed his lips. ‘Good: in that case, Nurse, we shall proceed and get it over. I shall want you face down on the consulting couch.’
Numbly Claire turned to face the couch. Automatically, from force of habit, she smoothed a slight crease in the snowy white sheet. Dr Handley, she was aware, was standing close behind her.
‘Right, Nurse; lift your skirts please,’ he said unctuously.
The time had come; the moment Claire had been dreading ever since she left this room yesterday. Head bowed, her hands went down to grip apron and skirt. With a neat, efficient movement and trying not to think about it, she raised them. Right up. Dr Handley, standing behind her, would now see her black stocking tops, the black suspenders, black knickers — and in between, the soft pale flesh of Claire’s thighs.
He coughed. ‘Now remove the knickers, please; take them right off. And then get up on the couch.’
Dr Handley had put down the cane and was taking off his white consulting coat. Pulse rate soaring, Claire inserted fingers in the top of her knickers. Try not to think about it, she told herself. She skimmed the knickers down and off, put them on the chair, then climbed, up on the couch. A word of instruction from Dr Handley and Claire obediently took the pillow and placed it halfway down the couch. Then holding her skirts up she lay down, with her abdomen on the pillow. Her bare bottom was thus raised…
Don’t think about it, Claire desperately told herself again. Don’t think, it won’t take long and then…
Matthew Handley raised the cane. Outwardly he wore an expression of controlled urbanity, the expression of a man acting in a purely disinterested manner, for the general good. His attitude appeared to be as detached and professional as when carrying out his medical tasks. In fact his heart was racing just as much as Claire’s. The sight before his eyes was indeed arousing: the passively submissive girl, her full pale bottom choicely framed by black stocking tops and suspenders and the raised skirt. It brought back heady memories to Matthew Handley, it stirred him to his very depths. And yet at the same time he was acting for the good of the girl, the good of the profession. Yes. He whipped the cane down.
It landed squarely across the point where Claire’s rounded thighs met the extra plumpness of her buttocks. The stricken girl gave a muffled gasping yelp into the sheet. She had tried to imagine what it would be like, because of course Claire Brierley had never been caned before. Not caned or spanked or anything like that. She had tried… but there was no way you could imagine this desperate, stomach-churning pain. It bit in and then spread throbbingly through her body. It was an impossible pain.
And that was only one. There would be five more; Dr Handley had said six. Claire’s hands, close by her face, clutched frenziedly at the couch while her red-hot bottom twitched and clenched.
‘Try and keep quite still, Nurse; there are five more to come, remember.’ With an effort Matthew Handley managed to keep his voice detached, objective. Inside, though, it was rather different.
The second landed not far above the now bright red stripe of the first stroke, on the full undercurve of the ripe buttocks. Claire’s breath came rushing out in, a half-stifled shriek. On top of the pain of the first which was still pulsating through her it was scarcely bearable. ‘No!’ she gasped, hands frantically clutching.
Through the awful pain the suave voice from above her: ‘Move the hands, Nurse. Let’s have them flat on the couch, stretched out.’
Matthew Handley judged that in this position the suffering girl would feel even more exposed, for having her hands up at her face probably gave some psychological comfort. Stretched out, as the rest of her was stretched out, all open for the cane — and the eyes of the caner — yes, that would make her position even more stark and vulnerable.
Dr Handley had not judged incorrectly. It did feel worse — if it was possible to feel worse with the combined effects of those two vicious cuts rolling like great waves through Claire’s quivering flesh.
Desperately Claire tried to think of something — anything — to hang onto, sensing that the next was about to descend. Deprived of the slight solace of her hands she thrust her face down into the couch. Knowing it was about to…
A spluttering gasp. The soft, tender buttocks, shocked as they had certainly never been shocked before, clenched and re-clenched. Claire forced a picture of her mother into her mind; then all the family: her father, her younger sister, her gran. She was taking this dreadful pain and the attendant humiliation of lying here before Dr Handley with her bottom bare so that they would never know. They would never have to suffer the impossible shame of Claire being dismissed from the hospital; drummed out.
That was why she was doing this, Claire reminded herself fiercely. That was why she was lying here, skirts round her waist and her knickers on the chair and wearing these black stockings that she sensed Dr Handley liked. As the pain now of the third mind-searing infliction blazed together with the others Claire clung to that thought. She was suffering in this way because the other suffering would undoubtedly be much, much greater. Would last much, much longer. Claire forced her mind to accept this thought: though everything, her mind, her body, every sinew — in particular her traumatised bottom — was trying to say NO; telling her to get up, roll off the couch and onto the floor and sob to Dr Handley: ‘No! No! No! No more! I can’t!’
His voice, urbane and unctuous from somewhere above, said: ‘That’s three, Nurse. We’re halfway through. And I hope as I cane you that you are pondering on the error of your ways. I hope indeed that you are appreciating how fortunate you are to be let off with a caning. A short, sharp shock and then it will all be over.’
As Dr Handley got to ‘over’ there was a simultaneous CRACK!! which drowned the word, as the fourth stroke jolted into Claire’s now fiery bottom. Her cry was more of a sob because she was now crying. The tears were simply rolling out, wetting her face, wetting the sheet. They were rolling out because in spite of anything Claire told herself about it being the preferred alternative, the fact was that the pain in her bottom was scarcely bearable.
‘That’s four, Nurse. Only two more. It’s stinging a little now I expect, but then it is meant to. If you ever feel tempted into any unprofessional act in the future I want you to remember that sting.’
Once more Matthew Handley timed his last word with another searing cut. Fingers clutched helplessly at the sheet, toes in the neat, low-heeled black shoes twitched and flexed, all as if trying to find some sanctuary from that devastating cane. But there was no sanctuary. Now a fifth pink-red stripe to go with the four already darkening ones. Five horizontal lines, neatly spaced out from the crease where Claire’s thighs began up to the full crests of the two ripe moons. Five stripes each sending out the same mind-jangling message.
‘Five, Nurse. One more. One more sting in the tail, eh?’
Matthew Handley made sure it was a sting in the tail; an extra zip in his wrist as he brought it down for the sixth time. He could feel the extra zesty splat as it landed, right up through his arm. Claire Brierley’s shriek rose high above her low sobbing.
Satisfying though these six agreed strokes had been to apply, Dr Handley now felt a definite sense of regret at the punishment having so swiftly reached its conclusion. With almost a lump in his throat he realised that it could be a very long time indeed before a further opportunity arose for him to cane a girl. And with this thought came another: surely it could only reinforce Nurse Brierley’s contrition if he gave her a couple of extra, unplanned strokes? She would hardly be able to complain about that, would she?
‘Right, girl — stay where you are. I haven’t finished with you yet,’ Matthew Handley said very smoothly. ‘I think two more, just to make sure…’
‘No! Oh please no! Oh no you can’t!’ Claire Brierley protested desperately — but it was already too late.
A shrieking cry, followed immediately by the sound of loud and bitter weeping. Her welted bottom, instead of jerking about as one might have expected, remained flattened as if trying to shrink into the unyielding surface of the examination couch.
Nurse Brierley’s weeping had not abated when — CRACKK!! — Dr Handley delivered his eighth and final cut high up on that ravished bottom, with what appeared to be all his strength. The Nurse’s vocal reaction was pitiable and quite the loudest of all her cries. With clinical eyes the doctor watched the multi-striped buttocks clenching and twisting, the fingers grasping for control.
Yes, the cane had done its job. It had left its marks and indeed the physical marks would be there to see for some days. Inside, he rather thought the marks would remain much, much longer. But that surely was the point, the intention: for the girl’s own good, so that if temptation came again she would automatically reject it.
Matthew Handley stepped over to slide the cane down again behind the cabinet. ‘Right, Nurse Brierley; you may stand now. I think we’re finished.’
Could it be over? Claire was in such a state that the additional two strokes hadn’t really registered, her head was in such a whirl that she scarcely knew where she was or what was happening. Only one thing was clear and certain and that was the horrendous, pulsating sting in her bottom.
‘Stand up, Nurse,’ repeated Dr Handley. ‘Unless of course you’d like a few more.’
Claire struggled off the couch: part of her mind at least could comprehend that last sentence. She found she could scarcely see properly and did some rapid blinking in an attempt to clear the tears, but they were still rolling out. Claire held onto the couch for support, her skirt in a tangle round her legs.
‘Stand up straight, Nurse, and let’s have a look at you. Lift your skirt back up.’
Numbly Claire let go of the couch, then lifted her skirt and apron again. Her legs were shaking. Dr Handley, with pursed lips, bent to closely examine the red-striped bottom. He reached out and, with seeming clinical detachment, ran his fingertips over the weals. Claire gave a shocked start at the touch. Yes, he considered, she was certainly going to go on feeling this for a while yet. Nurse Brierley would know she had been under the cane all right.
Dr Handley straightened up and moved round to look Claire in the face. It was a face of abject and now silent suffering, wet with tears which were still welling out from the red-rimmed eyes.
‘You felt that, did you, Nurse?’
The distraught girl produced a sound like ‘Nngggh’.
‘Excuse me?’ Matthew Handley’s tone was neutral, objective.
Something more recognisable as a stammered ‘Yes… sir’ was this time forthcoming.
‘Good. That is what we were after, was it not? I sincerely hope the lesson has sunk in and I trust you will always remember it. Yes, Nurse?’
Claire managed another abject ‘Yes, sir’. There was not much doubt about that.
‘In that case you may now replace your knickers.’ With hands that were all thumbs Claire stepped into her knickers and pulled them up — under the watchful gaze of Dr Handley. Her poor bottom still blazed ferociously and her hands went automatically back to gingerly rub it. Dr Handley reached for his white coat.
‘That’s all then, Nurse. You may go now and we will consider the matter closed. Incidentally it might be a good idea to apply a little cold cream to the affected area this evening. I suggest you wash your face now before anyone sees you.’
Still ruefully rubbing her rear Claire stepped towards the door. Matthew Handley paused in the act of putting on his coat. His face bore the flicker of a smile. The thought had just struck him that if he were an unscrupulous man there was nothing stopping him having her back in here tomorrow for a second dose. He could simply say he wanted to make doubly sure she had got the message — and then tell her to take her knickers down again. Nurse Brierley would not be able to refuse. She would certainly not be able to complain to anybody else.