Tales of the CPA: Good Spankings make for Good Girls (Tara #3)
Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2020 6:27 am
Tales of the CPA: Good Spankings make for Good Girls (Tara #3)
Author's note: this is a sequel to "Community Service", which is a sequel to "Riot Act". It is recommended that you read the first two stories before this one.
Part 1:
Friday evening, 9 PM. Brentford Railway Station
PC Carver swung his strap idly as he waited to apply the next swat. He liked to drag out punishments, both for his own amusement and for that of the crowds that inevitably formed. But there was another element too - the longer a strapping took, the harder it was for a girl to maintain her composure. After the first few smacks of hard leather on soft skin, her ass would be on fire - and she would be desperate to rub her burning buttocks to ease the pain. It was a privilege that he would not allow - not until she had taken her dozen.
The lass who was bent over in front of him had committed no offense except for being young and pretty. Carver was a keen enforcer of the CPA, and like most cops he was very creative when it came to concocting excuses to redden the rears of pretty girls. This one had been waiting for a train when he walked onto the platform, and to his delight there was a discarded chip packet in her vicinity. He had promptly unhooked his heavy leather strap and ordered the startled teenager to 'Bend and Present!" for littering. She had been shocked by the false allegation, but knew better than to argue. Any protest would likely result in him stacking additional charges - each of which would incur another twelve swats. She had meekly assumed the required position, head down and ass up, lifting her skirt and pulling down her lace panties to display her bare bottom. With her legs wide for balance and her hands wrapped around her ankles, all of her feminine charms were on full display as she took her punishment. He was five swats in, and she was whimpering between blows.
Naturally, the other commuters had promptly gathered to watch the show - and Carver was happy to let them. He liked to have an audience, and several mobile phones were recording the proceedings, guaranteeing that this strapping (as with most) would be posted on various websites.
Carver drew his strap up high, seeing the girl tense as she heard him move. He paused for several seconds, allowing her anticipation to peak before swinging down hard.
*WHACK!*
"OOOOOWWWWW!!!!!" wailed his victim. She waggled her tender tushy from side to side as if trying to shake off the pain. It had no effect on the burn, but provided great amusement to Carver and the observers.
"Si- six!... Th-ank y-you s *sniff* sir!" squeaked the unfortunate young lady. She was sobbing quietly now, her slim body shaking with pain. He knew that she wanted him to finish her punishment quickly and allow her to stand - but he had no intention of doing so. He cast his gaze around the gawking crowd as he made her wait for the next swat. None were of any interest, except -
Carver's head snapped back as his mind realised what he had just seen. Jesus! This one was gorgeous!
Tall, just over six feet in her high heels, and with the slender figure of a runway model. Mid-twenties, flawless white skin, long, flowing brown hair and green eyes that sparkled in her covergirl-pretty face. Her makeup was simple, a touch of mascara and dark red lipstick that accentuated her striking looks. But it wasn't just that which caught his attention. She was wearing a translucent black gauze top, no sleeves, and fastened by only a single button. It ended just above her navel, leaving a strip of white flesh between the flimsy fabric and the top of her matching black microskirt. In the harsh light of the station's fluorescents it was clear she wore no bra, and he could just make out pale pink nipples that decorated her tiny A-cup breasts. Beneath the obscenely short skirt was a pair of long, tapered legs that led down to her expensive-looking shoes. She was dressed to kill - and she was barely more than arm's length away.
Most girls knew better than to observe a public strapping, lest they be the next ones on the receiving end. This young woman however seemed unconcerned by the possibility. Her gaze was fixed on the bright red mark across the bum of his current victim and a smile of satisfaction was on her lips.
Carver couldn't believe his luck. A hot piece of ass, clearly dolled up for a night out - and she was just standing there! He forced his attention back to his target even as his mind worked rapidly to find a reason to apply the strap to this unexpected windfall.
*WHACK!*
"EEEEEEE!!! The girl wailed. "Se - se - seven... thank y-you s-sir!"
Carver continued to beat the proffered buttocks, but he was too distracted to drag it out as he normally would. He feared that at any moment his prize would come to her senses and depart the station before he was finished, thus denying him the pleasure of bending her over. He didn't skimp on the force of his blows however, and the poor lass on the end of his strap was howling by the time he was done. Rather than make her wait to stand he gave permission immediately, and dismissed her with a curt nod as she tried to stammer out the required thanks for her brutal punishment. He turned to the new girl as the teenager limped away, rubbing desperately at her battered behind and bawling loudly.
"You!" Carver said with glee, pointing his strap at his best catch of the evening. "Come here!"
The young lady met his eyes calmly, but instead of obeying she reached into her top and withdrew an ID card that hung from a chain around her neck. Even from a few feet away Carver could tell what it was.
"The hell?" he exclaimed in surprise. He stepped forward to confirm - and his heart sank. "Shit!" he swore venomously. "Alright, on your way!"
To the astonishment of the assembled crowd, the statuesque beauty turned on her heel and strode languidly away. Her skirt was so short that it gave a tantalising glimpse of her lower buttocks as she walked.
How was this possible? Several of the witnesses had noticed Carver's lustful looks in her direction, and were bitterly disappointed at being denied the pleasure of witnessing a second punishment. As if reading their thoughts, she turned and gave them a dazzling smile while dangling her ID on its chain.
"Golden Ticket!" she laughed.
***************************************************
Just three months ago, Tara would hardly dare show herself in public, let alone wear such an outfit. But things had changed...
For a while, she had alternated between the misery of being publically strapped and the degradation of being a practice dummy for cops learning search and enema techniques. Once she had abandoned any sense of modesty or pride, she found the latter to be far preferable - but it wasn't the free pass she had hoped for. Community service was only available to her if she met the criteria of a high tab and a bottom that had been spanked far beyond what was considered reasonable. Only when she was sporting a multicoloured painbow on her behind, and had more swats due than she could possibly collect would she be allowed to work it off by kneeling on the search bench. To make matters worse, she was still being targeted by teasers who were keen to see her strapped as often as possible. As long as people were still thinking about her she would get set up for more punishment - and as long as new spankings were being posted on the internet, nobody was going to forget about her. The situation was impossible, and Tara had despaired of ever going back to something resembling a normal life.
But one day, she had finally got lucky. She had finished servicing a magistrate (her required thanks for being granted another community service order,) and watched as he signed her papers. It suddenly dawned on her that he had no ring on his finger.
"You aren't married?" she queried.
"Divorced, a couple of years ago," he replied absently. "Why do you ask?"
Inspiration struck. The magistrate was in his early fifties, moderately handsome, and seemed to be of a kindly disposition. This was her chance!
"It must be lonely," she said sympathetically. "Wouldn't you like to have a woman in your home? One who knows how to please a man?"
He looked at her in surprise. "I'm used to it. What does this have to do with anything?"
Tara unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it open. She had a dancer's body, slim and supple, her A-cup breasts not needing the support of her lacy bra. "I can be yours!" she said huskily. "Give me a Golden Ticket and I can be in your bed every night!"
"A what? Oh, you mean an ESP." He frowned. "Those are usually for wives..."
The ESP system had been developed shortly after the introduction of the CPA. Once it became clear that there was no upper limit on the age of women who could be strapped or searched, the wives and partners of men in power had made it clear that they expected to be exempt from such indignities. This had lead to the passing of a second, (less publicised) act that allowed the issuing of an Exemption from Summary Punishment, or ESP for short. The holder of this pass had only to show it to police and her safety was guaranteed. Attempting to use the CPA on a woman thus protected was not only a firing offense but a criminal one. So high-society ladies could go about their business unmolested while the lower classes were fair game for police straps and searches.
"I'll be better than a wife!" Tara assured him. "I'll be your mistress. I'll be your fuck-toy! Anything you want, anytime you want!" She released her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her panties she sent them down with a swift tug. "How long has it been since you had a tight young pussy?" She stepped closer so that he could get a good look at her smooth lasered mound. Her lips were neat, just a slim crease in her skin. "Wouldn't you like to have me?" She took off her bra and stood naked before him.
He looked her up and down, still confused but definitely interested. "I'm not sure if I should..."
"PLEASE!" Tara dropped to her knees in front of him. "I know I shouldn't have organised that protest," she said with all the sincerity she could muster. "But haven't I been punished enough? I can't go on like this! It's just not fair!"
Tears were welling in her eyes and her voice was shaking. His face softened a little - her desperate entreaty seemed to be working. She grabbed his hands and pulled them onto her breasts so he could feel her warmth and softness.
"Me. In your bed. At your service. Anything. Anytime. All you have to do is protect me, and I'm yours for as long as you want!"
Her vulnerability highlighted her beauty, and it would have taken a heart of stone to resist her. He smiled and nodded slowly.
"Very well. If that's what you want." he stroked her cheek tenderly. "I can have my secretary fetch the forms."
Tara threw her arms around him and wept with relief. Finally! She had a way out of her torment!
**************************************************
Author's note: this is a sequel to "Community Service", which is a sequel to "Riot Act". It is recommended that you read the first two stories before this one.
Part 1:
Friday evening, 9 PM. Brentford Railway Station
PC Carver swung his strap idly as he waited to apply the next swat. He liked to drag out punishments, both for his own amusement and for that of the crowds that inevitably formed. But there was another element too - the longer a strapping took, the harder it was for a girl to maintain her composure. After the first few smacks of hard leather on soft skin, her ass would be on fire - and she would be desperate to rub her burning buttocks to ease the pain. It was a privilege that he would not allow - not until she had taken her dozen.
The lass who was bent over in front of him had committed no offense except for being young and pretty. Carver was a keen enforcer of the CPA, and like most cops he was very creative when it came to concocting excuses to redden the rears of pretty girls. This one had been waiting for a train when he walked onto the platform, and to his delight there was a discarded chip packet in her vicinity. He had promptly unhooked his heavy leather strap and ordered the startled teenager to 'Bend and Present!" for littering. She had been shocked by the false allegation, but knew better than to argue. Any protest would likely result in him stacking additional charges - each of which would incur another twelve swats. She had meekly assumed the required position, head down and ass up, lifting her skirt and pulling down her lace panties to display her bare bottom. With her legs wide for balance and her hands wrapped around her ankles, all of her feminine charms were on full display as she took her punishment. He was five swats in, and she was whimpering between blows.
Naturally, the other commuters had promptly gathered to watch the show - and Carver was happy to let them. He liked to have an audience, and several mobile phones were recording the proceedings, guaranteeing that this strapping (as with most) would be posted on various websites.
Carver drew his strap up high, seeing the girl tense as she heard him move. He paused for several seconds, allowing her anticipation to peak before swinging down hard.
*WHACK!*
"OOOOOWWWWW!!!!!" wailed his victim. She waggled her tender tushy from side to side as if trying to shake off the pain. It had no effect on the burn, but provided great amusement to Carver and the observers.
"Si- six!... Th-ank y-you s *sniff* sir!" squeaked the unfortunate young lady. She was sobbing quietly now, her slim body shaking with pain. He knew that she wanted him to finish her punishment quickly and allow her to stand - but he had no intention of doing so. He cast his gaze around the gawking crowd as he made her wait for the next swat. None were of any interest, except -
Carver's head snapped back as his mind realised what he had just seen. Jesus! This one was gorgeous!
Tall, just over six feet in her high heels, and with the slender figure of a runway model. Mid-twenties, flawless white skin, long, flowing brown hair and green eyes that sparkled in her covergirl-pretty face. Her makeup was simple, a touch of mascara and dark red lipstick that accentuated her striking looks. But it wasn't just that which caught his attention. She was wearing a translucent black gauze top, no sleeves, and fastened by only a single button. It ended just above her navel, leaving a strip of white flesh between the flimsy fabric and the top of her matching black microskirt. In the harsh light of the station's fluorescents it was clear she wore no bra, and he could just make out pale pink nipples that decorated her tiny A-cup breasts. Beneath the obscenely short skirt was a pair of long, tapered legs that led down to her expensive-looking shoes. She was dressed to kill - and she was barely more than arm's length away.
Most girls knew better than to observe a public strapping, lest they be the next ones on the receiving end. This young woman however seemed unconcerned by the possibility. Her gaze was fixed on the bright red mark across the bum of his current victim and a smile of satisfaction was on her lips.
Carver couldn't believe his luck. A hot piece of ass, clearly dolled up for a night out - and she was just standing there! He forced his attention back to his target even as his mind worked rapidly to find a reason to apply the strap to this unexpected windfall.
*WHACK!*
"EEEEEEE!!! The girl wailed. "Se - se - seven... thank y-you s-sir!"
Carver continued to beat the proffered buttocks, but he was too distracted to drag it out as he normally would. He feared that at any moment his prize would come to her senses and depart the station before he was finished, thus denying him the pleasure of bending her over. He didn't skimp on the force of his blows however, and the poor lass on the end of his strap was howling by the time he was done. Rather than make her wait to stand he gave permission immediately, and dismissed her with a curt nod as she tried to stammer out the required thanks for her brutal punishment. He turned to the new girl as the teenager limped away, rubbing desperately at her battered behind and bawling loudly.
"You!" Carver said with glee, pointing his strap at his best catch of the evening. "Come here!"
The young lady met his eyes calmly, but instead of obeying she reached into her top and withdrew an ID card that hung from a chain around her neck. Even from a few feet away Carver could tell what it was.
"The hell?" he exclaimed in surprise. He stepped forward to confirm - and his heart sank. "Shit!" he swore venomously. "Alright, on your way!"
To the astonishment of the assembled crowd, the statuesque beauty turned on her heel and strode languidly away. Her skirt was so short that it gave a tantalising glimpse of her lower buttocks as she walked.
How was this possible? Several of the witnesses had noticed Carver's lustful looks in her direction, and were bitterly disappointed at being denied the pleasure of witnessing a second punishment. As if reading their thoughts, she turned and gave them a dazzling smile while dangling her ID on its chain.
"Golden Ticket!" she laughed.
***************************************************
Just three months ago, Tara would hardly dare show herself in public, let alone wear such an outfit. But things had changed...
For a while, she had alternated between the misery of being publically strapped and the degradation of being a practice dummy for cops learning search and enema techniques. Once she had abandoned any sense of modesty or pride, she found the latter to be far preferable - but it wasn't the free pass she had hoped for. Community service was only available to her if she met the criteria of a high tab and a bottom that had been spanked far beyond what was considered reasonable. Only when she was sporting a multicoloured painbow on her behind, and had more swats due than she could possibly collect would she be allowed to work it off by kneeling on the search bench. To make matters worse, she was still being targeted by teasers who were keen to see her strapped as often as possible. As long as people were still thinking about her she would get set up for more punishment - and as long as new spankings were being posted on the internet, nobody was going to forget about her. The situation was impossible, and Tara had despaired of ever going back to something resembling a normal life.
But one day, she had finally got lucky. She had finished servicing a magistrate (her required thanks for being granted another community service order,) and watched as he signed her papers. It suddenly dawned on her that he had no ring on his finger.
"You aren't married?" she queried.
"Divorced, a couple of years ago," he replied absently. "Why do you ask?"
Inspiration struck. The magistrate was in his early fifties, moderately handsome, and seemed to be of a kindly disposition. This was her chance!
"It must be lonely," she said sympathetically. "Wouldn't you like to have a woman in your home? One who knows how to please a man?"
He looked at her in surprise. "I'm used to it. What does this have to do with anything?"
Tara unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it open. She had a dancer's body, slim and supple, her A-cup breasts not needing the support of her lacy bra. "I can be yours!" she said huskily. "Give me a Golden Ticket and I can be in your bed every night!"
"A what? Oh, you mean an ESP." He frowned. "Those are usually for wives..."
The ESP system had been developed shortly after the introduction of the CPA. Once it became clear that there was no upper limit on the age of women who could be strapped or searched, the wives and partners of men in power had made it clear that they expected to be exempt from such indignities. This had lead to the passing of a second, (less publicised) act that allowed the issuing of an Exemption from Summary Punishment, or ESP for short. The holder of this pass had only to show it to police and her safety was guaranteed. Attempting to use the CPA on a woman thus protected was not only a firing offense but a criminal one. So high-society ladies could go about their business unmolested while the lower classes were fair game for police straps and searches.
"I'll be better than a wife!" Tara assured him. "I'll be your mistress. I'll be your fuck-toy! Anything you want, anytime you want!" She released her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her panties she sent them down with a swift tug. "How long has it been since you had a tight young pussy?" She stepped closer so that he could get a good look at her smooth lasered mound. Her lips were neat, just a slim crease in her skin. "Wouldn't you like to have me?" She took off her bra and stood naked before him.
He looked her up and down, still confused but definitely interested. "I'm not sure if I should..."
"PLEASE!" Tara dropped to her knees in front of him. "I know I shouldn't have organised that protest," she said with all the sincerity she could muster. "But haven't I been punished enough? I can't go on like this! It's just not fair!"
Tears were welling in her eyes and her voice was shaking. His face softened a little - her desperate entreaty seemed to be working. She grabbed his hands and pulled them onto her breasts so he could feel her warmth and softness.
"Me. In your bed. At your service. Anything. Anytime. All you have to do is protect me, and I'm yours for as long as you want!"
Her vulnerability highlighted her beauty, and it would have taken a heart of stone to resist her. He smiled and nodded slowly.
"Very well. If that's what you want." he stroked her cheek tenderly. "I can have my secretary fetch the forms."
Tara threw her arms around him and wept with relief. Finally! She had a way out of her torment!
**************************************************