There was a respectful hush in the room as the next speaker took the floor. The joviality that
accompanied other contributions was absent. Nothing about this man betokened the kind of reaction he
appeared to be receiving. He was not particularly prepossessing of appearance; he was thin with a
pinched face and wiry grey hair. Only his voice gave something away. He was quietly spoken but he
conveyed the air of someone used to being obeyed. As he reached into his pocket and pulled out a
piece of silky material, there was complete silence. He unfolded the item and it was revealed to be a
pair of powder blue grey French knickers. A look passed between some of the men as if in
acknowledgement of what their owner must have gone through. For the man about to speak had an
almost legendary status among the members of the club. While for many of them chastising errant
young females was a bit of light relief from the tedium of work and humdrum sexless marriages, he
treated the matter of corporal punishment with an almost missionary zeal.
Rumours abounded. It was said that he had once worked in a female prison and it was there that he had
learned his trade. Others suggested that he had been an educationalist whose strict methods fell out of
favour in the rising tide of permissiveness. The truth will probably never be known, for he was not one
for chit chat. He was respected if not particularly well liked. The women of Bridley did their best to
avoid him. Even if they had not personally experienced his attentions there were enough accounts
floating around of what that meant to make any woman wary in his presence. Even if he carried himself
like the perfect, if aloof gentlemen, women feared him. That seemed to suit him fine for it was clear
that he held the female of the species in the utmost contempt. While many of the other club members
had their various grudges and resentments few of them would qualify as misogynists. James Ritman
wore the badge with pride. The only specimen he held in lower regard than the average female was
those men who demeaned themselves trying to curry favour with them.
He was a regular attendee at these gatherings though he did not share in the general air of bonhomie
and often seemed mildly irritated with the tales. It was clear that he thought that many of the
participants were in such a hurry to get to the dessert that they failed to properly digest the main course.
By contrast he took little pleasure in the more carnal side of things even as he recognised the important
role a little enforced intimacy could play in taming a wanton female, particularly when her wrongdoing
was of a sexual character. His forte and indeed his passion was finding ever more effective ways to hurt
and humiliate them. Those gathered always listened attentively perhaps for ideas but more likely in
envy of the things that they themselves were not brave enough to do.
“I had been assigned this girl by the committee. You probably know her by sight- quite the looker with
all that that entails” he said this with an obvious sneer of contempt.
The girl in question, Alison, had just turned nineteen and was taking a gap year before starting
University. Instead of travelling the world she had decided to stay in Bridley largely because she was
involved with an entirely unsuitable young man. Her parents had had a quiet word with one of the
committee members. Unfortunately, an initial attempt at disciplining her had failed and the committee
decided that this was a job for Ritman who they always called upon for their harder cases.
“Ronald dropped her off at my place around 5 on Friday” he said matter-of-factly as if the local
policeman dropping a young woman off at a stranger's house was the most ordinary thing in the world.
The policeman had apparently interrogated her about her boyfriend's drug dealing habits and had
offered her a choice between being arrested and being sent to Ritman's for the weekend.
“She was probably expecting the sort of soft treatment that she had received earlier. A few cursory slaps
on the arse and then she would be back home, or to her boyfriend's more likely. I needed to disabuse
her of that idea very early on. As soon as she was through the door without even greeting her I told her
to strip. She refused of course but I made it very clear to her that she really did not want me undressing
her and that that was the only other option available. Suffice to say that within a few minutes her
clothes were neatly folded on the chair.”
Some of the men were in a state of obvious excitement picturing the pretty young woman, a nervous
and embarrassed look on her face, naked in Ritman's living room, her nipples erect from the cold air
and her state of heightened arousal.
“I began my inspection” he said coldly.
While most men would take this as an opportunity to enjoy a few unhindered gropes, it was clear that
Ritman approached the business in an entirely different spirit. The woman would be inspected like a
butcher inspects a piece of meat, taking careful measure of her responses in order to work out her
vulnerabilities.
“She didn't offer too much protest initially but when my hands were at her cunt she let out a yelp and
attempted to cover herself. I pulled the hands away and told her stop her silliness. I then went for the
main target. I figured that her plump arse could take quite a pounding. Lots of padding down there so I
would not need to go easy on her. The same could not be said for her tits which were extremely
sensitive, especially her nipples. She made quite a fuss when I started to twist them.” He said all this in
the same matter of fact tone which made him sound like an engineer discussing his latest project.
“A spanking followed and, as I had surmised, that big arse could take quite a pounding but eventually I
began to get through to her. She began to beg and plead with me to stop which only encouraged me to
go even harder on her. Eventually her protests ceased and she simply grunted as my hand flattened
each buttock in turn. As she seemed to be getting a little too comfortable I decided to take the
opportunity for some humiliation so I pulled her cheeks apart, which caused the lips of her cunt to gape
wide open. She didn't like that much, so I rubbed it in by sticking my fingers inside. That certainly
made her squeal and not with pleasure.” He said this with a mirthless half grin.
“This gave me an idea. I told her to get to her feet and to bend over and grab her ankles. A few slaps
got her legs open wide. I then took a few snaps with my phone much to her distress. She begged and
pleaded with me not to show them to anyone. I told her that her modesty was touching but hypocritical
under the circumstances”
As he said this an image appeared on the screen of the bottom half of a young woman's body, her legs
spread wide open. Her pussy lips pouted invitingly and her bottom bore the marks of a recent spanking.
The men in the room stared at the picture with obvious interest.
A further picture appeared, this time the rudely gaping orifice was stuffed with a large plastic or rubber
object.
“I call it aversion therapy.” he spoke as if addressing a group of scientific peers.
This aversion therapy, he explained, involved switching the vibrator on, allowing the girl to approach
climax before rudely interrupting her with a stroke of the cane. In such a heightened state, it was easy
to imagine how utterly devastating the effect of the cane would have been. The already fearsome
instrument would acquire a horrific emphasis.
The next image showed clear evidence of her caning. About twenty or so wheals were visible across
her bottom and thighs which meant she would have been brought to the brink of orgasm that many
times only to have the cane rudely disrupting her climax. She would have been a quivering wreck at the
end torn between pain and unwelcome pleasure. To make matters worse Ritman would have been at
her ear the whole time mumbling carefully chosen obscenities.
The next stage of the girl's ordeal involved the dildo being removed from her cunt, presumably still wet
from her vaginal juices and being placed in her mouth.
“I told her to put her hands on her head and then got to work on her tits.” he informed them in the same
matter of fact tone.
Another image appeared with the girl's still obviously pretty face screwed up in pain, the dildo
protruding rudely from her mouth and thin red lines crisscrossing her chest.
“I find a modified coat hanger to be very effective. She would have been making quite a racket were it
not for my impromptu gag” he commented.
Ritman's tale continued for quite some time. The girl was in his company from Friday evening until late
Sunday. The weekend continued in much the same vein that it had begun regular beatings interspersed
with ever more ingenious humiliations. It was a wonder the girl made it through the weekend in one
piece though if truth be known it was a rather different and much more obedient young lady that
emerged at the end.
Ritman's official version of events portrayed him as a reluctant but conscientious disciplinarian who
took no pleasure in his somewhat irksome task. It was in keeping with the carefully cultivated image he
liked to present to the world. It meant that it was much more likely that the husbands of unfaithful
wives and the fathers of disobedient daughters would call upon his services. The truth is that the
beatings and humiliations that the unfortunate young woman had to endure were interspersed at regular
intervals by other activities which under normal circumstances would be considered pleasurable at least
when in engaged in with a young presentable male of her own choosing. When the male in question
was rather less appealing physically and certainly not someone she would ordinarily choose the
situation was rather different. No, such activities were far from pleasant, at least for the young lady
concerned, even if on several occasions her body betrayed her and suggested otherwise. Ritman would
no doubt explain himself by arguing that such business was an important part of the girl's discipline:
she must learn that her body was not for vain display or selfish gratification. Its only purpose in life
was to be of service to men and if that involved him using her over the arm of his living room chair or
bent over the bathtub then so be it and if he experienced a little relief from the stresses of maintaining
proper moral standards then who would begrudge him that?
Ritman did not join the others in the bar afterwards so the details would, as always, remain a matter of
feverish speculation. The only ones who knew the truth were him and a rather chastened young woman.
As he left the meeting some of the men looked at one another with a slightly puzzled expression: if
Ritman took such little pleasure in these meetings why did he even attend?