Content warnings for this story (click here for guide):
“Mr Carlson, I believe your guest is here,” sniggered the young woman in the doorway.
“Now, Polly,” said Mr Carlson, cupping the woman’s chin. “She’s not a guest. She’ll be joining us.”
He removed his hand and dug out some papers from his desk drawer.
“She’s joining us? Really?” Polly looked back in the direction of the hallway.
“Yes, really,” said Carlson. “And she has a lot to learn, so we have to make her feel welcome. Would you show her in?”
Polly grinned and turned to fetch the visitor, her red satin robe swishing as she went.
The non-guest was not best pleased, as she stood before Carlson’s leather-topped desk. She wore a ruffled dress in blush-pink wool, pearls, earrings and grey suede gloves. Her neatly curled hair was topped with a dark red felt hat. The picture of the upstanding daughter, thought Carlson.
“I don’t see why I had to come here today,” she said. “This surely could have been resolved in writing.”
“Lovely to meet you again, Miss Bannister,” said Carlson, smiling warmly. “May I call you Rosaline?”
“Well it’s not lovely for me! And no, you may not.”
“Wonderful!” said Carlson, ignoring her. “Rosaline it is!”
Miss Bannister scowled at him.
“The sooner I’m out of this grotesque house, the better,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “So how much are you wanting, to be done with the matter? I assume this is about money.”
“Oh, I don’t want any money as such,” said Carlson. “I think the judge was very clear about the terms of your sentence, and it is so important to respect the law, don’t you find? I imagine that was quite humiliating, hearing him read out your punishment in front of a court of your peers.”
The young woman blushed angrily.
“I don’t know how much you paid to bribe that judge,” said Rosaline, “but my father is a J.P., as you well know, and he’ll overrule it in a heartbeat.”
“Perjury is a very serious offence,” said Carlson. “And you sought to close down my business, not by legitimate complaint, but by falsifying evidence that we had kidnapped young women to work for us.”
“I did it for the greater good,” said Rosaline haughtily. “One less brothel in this town will improve the community.”
“And you’re certain it had nothing to do with one of my girls seeing you flirting with some sailor in a bar, and hinting she might tell your father, the J.P.?”
“Certainly not!” said Rosaline, blushing again. “He was asking for directions. And anyway, whores should keep out of respectable establishments. It lowers the tone.”
“From what Polly said, it wasn’t particularly respectable,” said Mr Carlson, “but that’s by the by. Now, onto the matter of your joining us here at my maison… “
“Which I shall not be doing, obviously,” said Rosaline. “As I’ve said, I’ll call my father and ask him to have a word with Judge Forsythe. I can’t imagine he understood who he was dealing with, or he wouldn’t have joked about something so beastly.”
Carlson picked up a document from his desk and presented it to her.
“If you wouldn’t mind reading this aloud.”
Rosaline read, frowning:
“… do hereby sentence Miss R. Bannister to indenture under the supervision of Mr G. Carlson, for the crimes of perjury and libel, this period to last no fewer than five years, and open to extension at the discretion of the judiciary. There to provide compensation for commercial injury in hours worked, the particulars of which to be determined by the aforementioned Mr G. Carlson… “
Rosaline tossed the paper to the ground.
“Disgusting. That judge should be removed for even suggesting such an ordeal for a respectable young woman. I’ll call my father now. Where is your telephone please?”
“Oh, I’ll gladly show you where the telephone is,” said Carlson, “but first, you might want to read to the bottom of the page.” He picked up the document and handed it back to her.
Rosaline snatched it from him and continued reading, growing pale as she reached the end.
“You see,” said Carlson, “Your father, the Honourable Reginald Bannister, has co-signed this document. Meaning that he has approved your punishment.”
Rosaline was rooted to the spot. “He can’t have… “ she mumbled. “He wouldn’t… “
“Would you like to call him now?” said Carstairs. “I can give you some privacy.”
He pushed the phone across the desk to her and left, closing the door behind him.
There was a period of muffled chatter through the closed door, peppered with pauses. Gradually Rosaline’s voice rose in pitch and volume, and then queerer sounds began to emerge. First a wheedling, girlish pleading, then sobbing, then angry squawks and shrieks. Finally, the phone was slammed down in fury.
Carlson, who had been stood in the hallway with Polly, listening, took this as his cue to go back in.
“What did he say, my dear?”
Rosaline’s face was beet-red, with tears running down her cheeks.
“He said… he said… I have to take my punishment!“
Carlson put an arm around her.
“I think that sounds reasonable, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t!” spat Rosaline. “This is monstrous!”
“Don’t be silly,” said Carlson, squeezing her arm. “It’s an opportunity to learn a trade, rather than idling about with sailors… “
“This is NOT a trade!” roared Rosaline.
“Ah, every girl is nervous when they start a new job, isn’t she? Eager to please, no doubt.”
“New job? You can’t seriously expect me to – “
“Unless you’d like me to ask the judge for a harsher custodial sentence, factoring in contempt?” beamed Carlson.
Rosaline balked. “I can’t go to PRISON! I’ve done nothing wrong!”
“You tried to destroy my livelihood and that of my girls,” said Carlson. “All for a petty vendetta. Did you stop to think about the consequences of your actions? No, you didn’t. And so the most fitting punishment for you is one that will teach you some empathy with these – what did you call them? – whores, that’s it! Whores. We’re going to teach you how to be a wonderful little whore.”
Rosaline ran to the front door and out into the yard.
“I wouldn’t do that,” said Carlson. “If I have to call for a constable, they may add three years to your sentence for fleeing custody.”
Rosaline flung up her arms and began snivelling about things being unfair.
“Now, now,” said Carlson sharply. “I don’t tolerate whining from my girls. If you’re going to behave like a child, I may have to spank some sense into you.”
Rosaline gaped.
“Oh, your father never spanked you, did he?” said Carlson.
“He most certainly did not!” said Rosaline, sniffling.
“Well, I think that explains how we got here today, doesn’t it?” said Carlson. “Never too late to right a mistake, though.”
He grabbed her arm and sat down on a low wall, pulling her across his lap. Hoiking up her skirt to reveal her drawers, he began spanking her hard, delivering burning slaps to her jiggling bottom.
Rosaline kicked and squealed at the indignity, compounding the humiliation as she flailed like a toddler.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
The young woman’s buttocks turned redder and redder as she swore and squeaked beneath Carlson’s strong hand. Eventually, though, her protests gave way to bargaining:
“Please! Please! I’ll do anything! PLEASE OWOWOWOW!”
Carlson stopped spanking as Rosaline hung, panting, over his lap. He helped up his new charge, allowing her to tugged her skirt back down over her glowing cheeks.
“There we go,” said Carlson. “That was much better! If you’d had a red bottom more as a little girl, you might have grown up to be a nice young lady, and we wouldn’t be here now.”
Rosaline hung her head, livid in every sense. She was too outraged to speak.
“Now,” said Carlson, “do I still need to call the constable? Or should I put you over my knee again? Or perhaps my new apprentice has learned her lesson? What do we think? Is Little Miss Bannister going to come indoors where we can find her some nice new clothes?”
Rosaline thought for a second, rubbing her sore, tender little haunches. Then she wiped her runny nose on her hand and allowed herself to be led inside.