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Saturday, 1 February 2020

Community Service

From Blushes Supplement 26
He glanced at the clock. A little after ten. Debbie would be having her interview now, her appointment was for ten o’clock. The Community Service Office. He switched his mind away, back to the papers on his desk; he had his work to get on with. Anyway there was no point thinking about it, agonising. All young wives had to register for Community Service, once they’d been married for a year. Unless they had produced a child during that time of course, or were pregnant, and Debbie was in neither of these categories. Therefore…
Stop thinking about it and get on with these accounts, he told himself sharply. Otherwise he’d have something else, something real, to worry about, from Mr Malport. And anyway those things some people said about the Community Service Programme, and the interviews, they had to be a load of rubbish. People liked to say those sorts of things about anything when it was just a figment of their imagination. Trying to give themselves a kick. Well they would assure you for instance that girls in offices got screwed all the time at work whereas he knew, working in an office as he did, that this simply wasn’t true. It was probably the same about the Community Service, in fact he was sure it was the same. Those things…
Ten thirty. Whatever it was, whatever did happen, would be underway now. He hadn’t told anyone at the office that she had it today. No one knew it was due, or imminent, because he had started here after they were married and so no one had that to remember and reckon it was twelve months ago. There was no one at the office that he and Debbie socialised with so it was not a problem. When his marital status had been mentioned he had given the impression that he had been married for some time. He was twenty-eight so this was quite possible and if you hadn’t met Debbie who was only twenty there was no reason to think otherwise. Earlier on this had avoided the jokes that a newly married bloke usually got. And now with Debbie due for her Community Service it avoided jokes and snide comments about that.
The clock showed ten fifty-five. She had been there about an hour. But that didn’t mean it was over, interviews and tests could apparently last most of the day. Certainly all the morning. He wasn’t getting anywhere with these accounts. He didn’t seem to have done anything in the last hour. Because, try as he did, his mind kept flicking away. Stupidly but he couldn’t help it. His mind kept picturing those things that they said. Debbie getting caned. Or whipped. Or getting screwed. It was stupid. People just said those things, they couldn’t really happen. He tried once more to focus his eyes on the forms, to make sense of them.
Debbie was there when he got home. Laying the table. She gave a little smile and said a quiet, sort of subdued ‘Hello’. Debbie didn’t sound like that normally, she was usually bright and breezy, asking how his day had been. So there must have been…
‘How was it?’ he asked, though half afraid to and afraid also of what she would answer — or not answer but simply break down in tears. He had wanted to phone home in the afternoon to check if Debbie was back but hadn’t — half afraid she was still at that place. With those characters still working her over.
‘OK,’ she said non-committally and flushing slightly it seemed. ‘OK! What’s OK? What… happened?’ He didn’t want to know but he had to. Were there angry red stripes across her bottom where one of those bastards had amused himself with the cane? Or on the other hand…
Debbie met his eyes and looked quickly away. She was flushing. ‘You know…’ she said. ‘A lot of questions. Written tests. And… a physical.’
‘You know what a physical is,’ Debbie said quietly. She saw again the little room. Clinically white. The couch covered with a crisp white sheet at one side. The man in the white coat who had brought her in, closing the door behind them. ‘Take everything off, Mrs Benfield. Then get on the couch. On your back.’
Debbie saw it, a crystal clear picture in her mind. She tried to blot it out. She wasn’t going to tell Michael. What was the point. She said, ‘Just a physical. On a couch.’ Then, ‘I’ve got to go again tomorrow. To this other place.’
‘What other place?’ Michael demanded. ‘You mean it isn’t over?’ ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to see this other person.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ Michael’s face was pink. ‘And what about the physical?’ Debbie shook her head but didn’t answer. ‘You can keep your stockings on,’ the man had said. ‘Just the stockings. Everything else off.’ He had sat on the chair watching as she undressed. And then… on the couch. ‘Open your legs, Mrs Benfield. Get your knees up. Haven’t you had a physical before?’ Giving a little laugh. Afterwards he said, ‘Very nice, Mrs Benfield. You passed that with flying colours. Now, I think I’ll put you down to see Mr Maxlane tomorrow. I’m sure he’d like to see you, very much. You can get dressed now. Yes, you’re just Mr Maxlane’s type.
Michael was hot-faced and angry. ‘Why have you got to go again?’ he ranted. ‘Two days! It doesn’t take two days for an interview.’ He wanted to ask the other questions. Had one of those blokes caned her? And that physical… What had happened in the physical? But he didn’t ask those questions — anyway if he did she probably wouldn’t tell him. Debbie wouldn’t want anyone to know. Including himself. If she had been caned there were probably marks. Red marks on her bottom. He would see when they went to bed. But he didn’t. Debbie put her nightdress on in the bathroom and he couldn’t very well demand that she lift it so that he could see…
But the fact that she put it on in the bathroom… Debbie never normally did that.
In bed he said, ‘Those bastards. You should put in a complaint. They can’t have you for two days for interviews.’ Debbie didn’t answer. He knew and she knew that you couldn’t put in a complaint. If you did you would be marked down as a trouble maker. ‘Those bastards,’ he said again. Then weakly, ‘What did they do…?’
But he didn’t really want to know. If he didn’t know for sure there was always the possibility that nothing had happened, just the questions and the written tests and an ordinary physical that wasn’t anything to get excited about. Debbie turned her face and kissed him. A sexy kiss, her tongue deep in his mouth. His tumescence rose, became rock hard. Not speaking he climbed over on top of her. She was wet and ready.
He thought: Is this what that bastard did? When he had her on the couch. The thought didn’t stop him though. He was charged up with the pent-up emotion of the day. Charged up and rock hard. It didn’t matter. Not for the moment.
Was he a Community Service official, this Mr Maxlane? Or merely someone with influence who had said, ‘If you get a nice one in let me have a look at her. A preview.’ Something like that. Where she had to go wasn’t an office, it was a place out in the country. Of course he could still be an official. Perhaps a senior one who wasn’t involved in the routine interviewing. Anyway she had to phone to confirm. At nine o’clock. At least Michael would have gone to work. She said goodbye to him. ‘How long is it going to last?’ he wanted to know but of course Debbie didn’t know.
She phoned the number, her heart sort of in her mouth. Well, after yesterday. A cultured, educated voice. More so than those other men she had seen. ‘Oh yes. Mrs Benfield.’ He had had a call from the office. Could she make ten o’clock? She had been told where it was? Debbie said yes.
‘Uh… wear something nice and summery, Mrs Benfield. I should like that. But smart too. Uh… stockings…’
She chewed at her lip. She had been told to wear stockings to the interview yesterday. Men liked stockings. It probably meant… But whatever it meant she had to go. As yesterday she had to go to that office.
‘Ah Mrs Benfield. Yes. Do come in.’
He was a big man with black shiny hair. Glasses. Fortyish, the same sort of age as that one in the examination room yesterday. It was a big old house in its own grounds but not far, a twenty minute drive in her little car. She had dressed as he had said. Of course. A summery white shirt-waist and matching full skirt. Under it light-coloured nylons with a white suspender belt. White high heels. It seemed to be acceptable.
‘Yes. You do look nice. Very nice. And as they said a very attractive lady. Yes, we’ll go in here.’
A splendid high-ceilinged room with a large stone fireplace. The walls were oak-panelled, two of them with shelves of books going right up to the ceiling. She took it in but it was naturally Mr Maxlane himself who was of most concern. He had a suit and tie on. Was it possible he had to go out? And therefore wouldn’t have a lot of time. He might have to be quick. And presumably if he didn’t have a lot of time it couldn’t be as bad.
But Mr Maxlane said, ‘I’ve just got back myself, Mrs Benfield.’ So that meant she could presumably forget about that. He had been somewhere, it wasn’t that he was going. He sat down on a chair, but Debbie wasn’t invited to sit. She was told to stand in front of him.
‘That’s it. Let me have a proper look at you. Yes, you are a very pretty girl. And a lovely shape too I should say. Are those stockings, Mrs Benfield?’
Debbie said yes. She could feel herself shivering. Afraid of what was going to happen. Her eyes were registering things — the tapestry fire-screen in the hearth, a darkly polished stepladder for reaching books — but it was Mr Maxlane she had to be worried about. What was he going to do?
‘Lift your skirt, Mrs Benfield. Let me see. Lift it right up.’
Just like it was yesterday. Trying not to think Debbie did it, her heart was thudding. ‘Higher than that,’ Mr Maxlane said. Underneath she had the white suspender belt and a very skimpy pair of matching knickers. She could perhaps have worn something less sexy but she had known the sort of thing he wanted. And if she had worn something not to his liking Mr Maxlane could take it out on her. Make her wish she had
‘That’s very nice, Mrs Benfield. Lovely.’ His voice was more husky. Excited perhaps. ‘Come here. Closer.’
Debbie stepped forward, still holding the skirt high. His big hand ran up the backs of her warm bare thighs. Onto the firm roundness of her bottom. The hand squeezed.
‘The Community Service is always keen to engage pretty young women, Mrs Benfield. They can perform a very important service in our society. I am speaking in particular of… ah… pastoral visits to citizens who are perhaps bored and lonely. We are talking of course of men who have done excellent service to the state and are entitled to its gratitude. This was perhaps mentioned to you yesterday?’
Debbie nodded. Yes, it had been mentioned. Spelled out in fact. She hadn’t said anything to Michael and she didn’t know if he knew about things like that. Wives on Community Service work paid visits to mothers with young children, to old ladies, etc. But Mr Maxlane and the man yesterday weren’t talking about old ladies. It was men and the man yesterday had made it clear… men who had done sterling work for the state and were now rewarded in their retirement by visits from an attractive young woman.
‘Good,’ Mr Maxlane said. It is a service that is not publicised. Your husband need know nothing if you prefer. I’m glad you’re being co-operative, Mrs Benfield. Some young women can be awkward — and of course it does them no good whatever. Do you want to take that dress off now? So that I can get a better look.’
He was telling her, not asking. Debbie’s hands let the skirt fall and went obediently to her shirtwaist. Unfastening it, slipping it off. Stepping out of the skirt. She stood before Mr Maxlane in just her brief sexy underthings. The eyes behind the black-rimmed glasses were fixed on her.
‘What else about the interview yesterday, Mrs Benfield? What… ah… little tests did they give you?’
She felt herself flushing more deeply. He presumably knew what happened in those interviews. Before she had considered what to answer Mr Maxlane asked, ‘Did they cane you?’
Debbie blinked and shook her head.
‘No? Really. They must have done some other things then?’
Her face perhaps showed that the answer to that was yes, but Mr Maxlane did not pursue it. He pursued the subject of caning.
‘A young woman is frequently caned, Mrs Benfield. The reason, or excuse as some people would say, is that in being recruited to the Community Service she has to be shown some discipline. She has to be taught how to accept it. The way this is normally done is with the cane. And you didn’t have that?’
Debbie shook her head again. She had half expected it yesterday. She had heard that you could be caned and she knew Michael had thought that but hadn’t wanted to come out and ask it. She hadn’t wanted to talk about any of it, that was why she had gone into the bathroom to undress. Debbie had half expected it but it hadn’t happened. One interviewer had jokingly mentioned it. ‘Should we cane you, Mrs Benfield?’ But he hadn’t. And of course the one in the examination room… he hadn’t been interested in caning.
But Mr Maxlane… He said, ‘Ah well. In that case Mrs Benfield…’
He got to his feet. Gave her bottom another quick squeeze. Then walked across to a bookcase. He is going to, she told herself. Shivering. Mr Maxlane was going to cane her. What people said, half-jokingly perhaps, was… true?
Yes. Mr Maxlane had a cane. It had been tucked in on top of some books. Debbie’s eyes clung to it, mesmerised, as Mr Maxlane came back. He dropped the cane on his chair. ‘I think we should, don’t you, Mrs Benfield? I do think a young woman needs a taste of it when she’s starting with us. Those people yesterday may have had their own ideas about… ah… testing, but there is no real substitute for a taste of the cane.’
Mr Maxlane was just saying that because he wanted to cane her, she knew he was. If she had to do what he said, make those visits, well, she would do it; there was no choice. She would have to do it, cane or no cane. But Mr Maxlane wanted to cane her, she could sense that. Pleading wasn’t going to have any effect. Like that one yesterday. If they wanted to do something…
Mr Maxlane was pulling the stepladder over. Out into the middle of the room. Oh God! He was going to use that. Going to make her… bend over it… Yes. Going to pick up the cane now. ‘I… please…’ she stuttered. ‘I’ll do… what I have to. I don’t need…’
Debbie was pleading although she knew it would be no use. She knew he was going to do it. Caning her would be a big turn-on. So it didn’t matter what she said…
He shook his head. Smiling a little. A cat with a nice mouse. ‘I’m afraid I have to, Mrs Benfield. It’s necessary. Come on. Get over the steps. Get your head right down and hold on as far as you can reach. It will hurt of course: it has to. So get a good grip. I don’t want you jerking about all over the place.’
She gripped hold. Think of something else, she told herself frantically. But what? And then the cane exploded onto her bottom. The ripe, thrust-up undercurve, across the skin-taut knickers and the swelling sections of bare cheek which the brief knickers did not cover.
She hung on, a wild cry erupting from her desperate mouth. Her bottom was red hot, on fire, a quite impossible heat. She needed to tell him that he couldn’t. No more. Not like that. But all that came out of her mouth was another wild yell. And then the cane slamming down again — if anything worse than the first one.
Mr Maxlane’s voice, calm on the surface but perhaps with an undertone of excitement. ‘Keep it still, Mrs Benfield. You really are jerking it around.’
His hands were now sliding her knickers down. Off of her impossibly red-hot rear. Down to the stocking tops. Laying bare the ripe rump with its now two angry red stripes.
Arrrggghhhh!’ she yelled again. As once more that diabolical cane sliced in. This time onto the completely bared flesh. She was going to be sick. Hanging onto the rung as if gripping onto her sanity as her bottom writhed, clenched, frantically attempting to come to some sort of terms with what was happening to it. Then another anguished yell as once again the cane exploded onto the churning flesh.
From somewhere, in the midst of this nightmare, the thought came to her: there would be something to show Michael tonight. If he wanted to see…
‘I’ll show you if you want to see,’ she said. ‘Do you want to see? What he did?’
Michael had hesitatingly asked about what had happened. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know and had expected a non-committal answer. He hadn’t expected Debbie’s response.
She said, ‘I’ll show you my bottom if you like.’
He gave her a quick look and looked away. A little shake of his head. ‘Those bastards…’ he mouthed.
He didn’t want to see but he saw anyway, later, when Debbie undressed for bed. In the bedroom and not attempting to hide her bottom. The dark red stripes criss-crossing it. He looked and slid his eyes off. It sort of took his breath away. His eyes came back. He didn’t want to look but it had a powerful fascination. How many…? Half a dozen… or more. The stripes disappeared as Debbie’s nightdress slid down to cover them.
‘At least it’s over,’ he said in bed.
Debbie said a quiet Yes. But she was thinking that it wasn’t. There were those duties. It started tomorrow. Mr Maxlane had given her an address. Ten o’clock again.


  1. Absolutely fantastic. Brilliant. Fleas.

  2. Superb opening photograph in this set. Really captures the cringing fear and vulnerability a young dolly is made to experience when she is forced to strip down to her pretty undergarments for the attention of impersonal, middle-aged, male authority. Of course, aside from the overall sexual threat, the young lady's knowledge that her knickers are about to come down for what will perhaps be her first ever caning only compounds her trauma. Blushes did this kind of thing so well. The key little trick, which I have seen quite a few times in their pictorials, is to capture the scene from the side on perspective of the watching gentleman's spectacles. That has the effect of placing you the viewer in his shoes, making it almost feel as though the trembling girl is appearing for the cold hearted delectation of you personally. Nice front on photo also. "Hands by your sides, girl!" There will be no escape from justice for this young beauty (see the excellent final photographic presentation). Would that it might be the same for a lot more of them.

    1. She is clearly the sort to use her looks to her advantage and it seems pretty clear she has her hopeless drip of a husband wrapped round her fingers. Thus it is only right that with the coming of a New Moral Order the authorities issue her with an appropriate reminder of her proper place. Community service is an excellent way of breaking a silly young mare from a life of selfish pleasure and foolish hopes and ambitions, and reminding her that her main role in life is to serve.

  3. Shame the bra did not come off for further embarrassment

    1. Yes, a bit of an oversight by our man in the big 1980s glasses (or whoever was directing the shoot). Some very nice photos all the same.

    2. Baring her breasts would indeed have rightly added to her embarrassment.

      A girl always thinks her tits are too big or too small & the bra always means they can present them just so. It should always be removed and her over-sized udders would have completed the look hanging down out of her control as she is dealt with in the last sequence

    3. This comment has been removed by the author.

    4. Yes Marco a girl's titties are both the source of her allure and often too much inappropriate pride but also her Achilles' heel (if one pardons the pun). Aside from the embarrassment of having to bare them for her disciplinarian(s), if they are on the large side, there is also the discomfort of not having them supported while she is going through her various exertions. My only complaint is that Blushes never took full advantage of their young ladies' breasts and punished them properly (perhaps censorship prevented the visual portrayal of this but they could have incorporated it into some of their stories).

    5. I very much agree about the tits. Her bra should have been quite savagely torn from her and flung to the floor like a dirty rag. She should then have been subjected to a very rough breast mauling in advance of her caning. Sexual humiliation is a very important aspect of girl discipline.

    6. Blushes usually showed girls with bare tits when they were being dealt with and its stories included lots of breast groping, mauling & unwanted handling by much older men. One of my favourite Blushes sequences is A Mere Plaything - a set of pictures in Blushes 15 & UG 53. In these you can see the girl’s objection in her unhappy face as she tries to fend off the grabbing hands removing all her clothes. The tits are of course soon enough on full view. As is her pussy despite her strenuous attempts to keep her knickers on.

    7. Yes Marco, another great story. I suspect that she will have had plenty of experience fending off over enthusiastic young men. Perhaps she has even, heaven forfend, touched herself at the thought of one of them succeeding. This chap is another thing entirely. Far too much strength and determination to fight off. The pictures make plain that these are not the caresses of a gentle and attentive lover or even the clumsy fumblings of a spotty youth. No, this is a mature confident man who can barely disguise his contempt for her. Since I believe the story was rather light on details one can only imagine how things conclude once her punishment is finished but I am sure there is a very tearful and distraught young lady at the end of it all.

    8. Yes Harold and the photo sequence is continued in Blushes 77. There’s a picture of her screwing up her face with the effort of trying to hold him off as he forcibly undresses her. She’s got a firm grip of his arm but it’s too late as his hands are already mauling her breasts and the bra is soon off. It seems she puts up a futile fight as she is embarrassed by her outsize tits. We get a great view of them as she leans forward to reluctantly take up her punishment position.

      And yes she is likely to be many more reluctant positions with the underwear finally off. No doubt her overnight room is all ready and there’ll be no lock on the door so he can check on her

    9. Quite amusing to watch her struggle like that. The feminists have indoctrinated her into thinking she is equal to men in every respect and here she is learning how untrue that is. I am sure he spared no effort upstairs in the overnight room re-inforcing pressing home his advantage.

    10. Yes indeed & the penny will drop in her pretty little head: resistance only makes matters worse. Extra cane strokes of course. A good example of a teenage girl getting round to understanding this rule is Valerie in Blushes 6 & 7. Initially she is a cry-baby, blubbing when Mr Ponsonby puts his hand between her legs after a caning. Then she is persuaded she won’t get caned every 90 minutes if she complies. Soon enough Mr Fultonby lets her off one caning session when she gets into the double bed without any clothes on in the middle of the afternoon. 16 years old, it’s her first time getting ‘it’.

      ‘It was a tight fit but Mr Fultonby managed’. We can see it was ‘very tight’ from her face in the pictures. Well done Mr Fultonby for managing.

    11. What a lucky girl having her first time with an experienced mature gentleman rather than some clumsy youth! She may not appreciate it at the time but Mr. Fultonby is doing her a big favour. I only hope she showed her appreciation.

    12. Mr Fultonby has another girl there called Cynthia who he has also convinced to accept ‘the other’. He gets Cynthia to put pressure on Valerie who believes her when she says: ‘the first time was bound to be tight but after that you are opened up and ready for it’. So yes Mr Fultonby is on course for doing both girls lots of big favours. And no doubt plenty of cane which he likes to apply to their bare bottoms and thighs

    13. Quite so, the 'other' should always be accompanied with a decent dose of the cane, so that the two are forever linked in her mind. After all, one wouldn't want young ladies to enjoy it too much. Not make a fuss certainly and perhaps a little grim satisfaction from performing her proper office but we all know where girls enjoying it leads....

    14. Yes well Valerie doesn’t appear to enjoy either. The full-page of her leaning forward knickers down and her little vest pulled up above her little bare breasts is a picture of discomfort. Mr Fultonby has found a way of getting her how he wants her for the ‘other’. She looks as though she’s been freshly caned too and is still wincing. He insists on the ‘other’ such that he’s right up against her just-blushed behind

    15. Well, if Mr. Fultonby has pressing needs it's her job to deal with them and if she starts any nonsense then that's what the cane was invented for

    16. I mean for goodness sake we don't keep young females around for their wit and intellectual conversation!

    17. Clothes off for the girls embarrassingly soon after meeting the older man for the first time; cane to the bare bottom & thighs, upstairs & then the ‘other’.

      That’s why I’m an admirer of stories like Conpany Policy in Blushes 31. All we hear from the girl are the protests and the cry-baby tears. It’s referred to there as breaking in a filly

    18. Great exchange. Getting back to the Community Service girl’s tits. I agree - once she had rightly handed in her knickers, he should have just yanked her bra off

  4. A Blushes classic, thanks for posting Fleas. As people have pointed out, Blushes tended to be a bit hit and miss especially towards the end and some of the stories left a lot to be desired but not this one. It has everything Blushes fans loved- a delightfully pretty young victim forced to undress in front of the sort of older man she would generally not choose to do so for (though I agree with the comments above about the need to dispense with the bra- a girl being disciplined does not get to preserve her modesty). Above all though it is the way in which both story and images work together to convey the hapless young lady's utter powerlessness in the face of male authority. However reluctantly she must acquiesce (and we certainly don't want to learn that she obtains any enjoyment from the process) acquiesce she must to whatever her male elders and betters decide is appropriate for her.

  5. Just how young women should be treated. Brought unwillingly under the cane and then put into sexual service for their betters. "Not so hoity toity now Miss!"

  6. Well said,Inspector Ruskin.
    All young women should indeed be under
    the cane,hopefully with lots of strokes
    applied applied to the undecurves of their bottoms and also their thighs too,of course.Regular swipes of the rod
    to those highly sensitive areas are always guaranteed to make any recalcitrant little madam remarkably eager to please you.
    Cane them long and cane them hard and then even the toughest tomboy or wanton
    strumpet will be left thoroughly amenable to your wishes.

  7. Breaking any false pride or modesty should be the aim. Young women should be more than well aware that regular canings or strapping are their inevitable fate. As you say they are eager to perform enthusiastically and responsively but they'll be beaten anyway...because we can, because it's a turn on.

  8. Quite so.
    And it's all for their own good, after all.Far better for them to be under the
    cane than cavorting drunkenly about or taking endless,pointless selfies every five minutes.
    It is painful to think that probably very few young ladies today are genuinely being disciplined but it is equally comforting to know that some most certainly are.

    1. There are no greater candidates for moral reform than the entitled young millennial snowflake women of today.

    2. I couldn't agree more. One only needs to walk down an average English city street, particularly of a nighttime to see dozens of young females desperately in need of a firm guiding hand. From the evidence here there is no shortage of men (and women) willing to give them that. I am sure it is only a matter of time...

  9. Older women should not be exempt from Community Service if their behaviour warrants it. Misdemeanours such as immodest dress in the street, overly modest dress in the home, recalcitrance, unfriendly attitude,awkwardness or cheek should all be rewarded with a timely dose of cane or strap. "Yes Gabby I do think you deserve it so over you go please..."

    1. Quite so - though also I'd include insufficiently immodest dress in public when instructed. There is little more delicious than an embarrassed older woman in a revealingly short, tight skirt that shows her stocking tops and a see-through blouse that shoes that she's not wearing a bra, struggling while she walks down the street with your hand on her arse and knowing that you're going to spank her later.

  10. Hear hear. Old or young any woman who thinks it appropriate to use her looks to try and gain advantage should be brought down to earth with a bang, or in this case a harsh crack of the rattan.