The Bamboo Suite

[mrmarkham]

Lastly, for the present, a story of a slightly different flavour , posing one or two challenges to a male author seeking to characterise female actors...


The Bamboo Suite
A short story by Penman

The mid-afternoon sunshine cast a dappled light, through the thinning foliage of lines of silver birch trees, as residents and visitors went about their business in a wide suburban street in the late autumn. The air was pleasantly warm, but with a slight hint of a cool night to come. It was filled with a cocktail of sound, in which the noise from light passing traffic mingled with the buzz of conversation and laughter, the rhythmic pattern of footsteps with various acoustic characteristics and the chirping and warbling of the local bird population, as it took heed of the lengthening shadows and sang out its Vespers canticles.

Among the pedestrians making their way along the popular thoroughfare, with its elegant Georgian facades on either side of the road, was a young woman in her early thirties. She was walking at a fairly slow, deliberate pace and, although she was obviously navigating her course carefully between other pedestrians, it was clear that she was also deep in thought.



Agnes was, in many ways, an old-fashioned young woman. She had been brought up as the third of five siblings, the offspring of a clergyman in an affluent provincial parish and his quiet-mannered, gentle and kind-hearted wife. She had enjoyed a good childhood and adolescence and had made herself very popular amongst deeper-thinking friends by her rare blend of incisive thought, clarity of perception, analytical skills and a gift for diplomacy that ought to have seen her career take root in the Foreign Office.

In fact, Agnes had followed a very different career line after graduating from a good red-brick university with a first-class Honours degree in Psychology. As a child and teenager, she had grown up in a climate in which newspaper headlines and news broadcasts often highlighted the troubled state of industrial relations in the United Kingdom. She had read page after page of comment on the consequences of this turbulence for all who were directly affected by it and she had listened with avid interest to numerous discussions involving her father (her mother rarely contributed to such debates) and his colleagues and friends  even the bishop, on one occasion  dealing with the ethical and social complexities of life within industrialised societies. She had been totally absorbed by the passions that the turbulence had engendered and she had been impressed by the efforts of those who had sought to pour the oil of calm and reason upon the troubled waters of strife and conflict. It had, in fact, been such people who had led her to seek a career in conciliation and arbitration, to which her rare blend of characteristics and skills suited her well.

Such is the nature of diplomacy at this level that, no matter how skilled the arbitrator may be and no matter how experienced, the work is bound to affect anyone who is a sentient human being, particularly in cases where all reasonable attempts at bringing people face to face with reality and their duties towards one another lead only to deeper intransigence.

Agnes, who was just reaching a critical point in negotiations involving parties who gave every impression of having a doctorate in obduracy and whose block-headed attitudes had convinced her that they deserved one another, felt herself under particular stress but had been reluctant to seek medical advice. She had no problem where her GP was concerned, for the two women  of similar ages  got along very well together, both professionally and socially but, on this occasion, Agnes felt particularly vulnerable, even to the point of being 'unable to cope'  the kiss of death to many a promising career in this demanding field.

Despite her reluctance, she had finally arranged an appointment with Dr Menzies, an extremely efficient and skilled medical practitioner whom many regarded as a model for general practice. She had graduated with a good medical degree at the same time as Agnes had starter her career, some seven years earlier, and had moved into general practice four years later.

Fiona Menzies knew Agnes quite well, but she was also aware, intuitively, that the root cause of her friend and patient's problems were not so much physiological as psychological. The two young women had discussed the situation briefly at a late surgery, one cold, wet and depressing mid-autumn evening. On the basis of what she heard, Fiona had invited Agnes to visit her socially, since she had an idea to discuss with her, but one that was probably best deliberated away from the confines of the GP surgery.

It was, perhaps, a measure of Agnes' trust and confidence in Fiona that allayed her misgivings when, half way through a deliciously-chilled bottle of Frascati Superiore, Fiona had suggested to her that she should visit The Bamboo Suite, which had been set up fairly recently by a couple whom she knew well.

Despite Agnes' gentle persistence, Fiona had not been forthcoming in terms of the detail of her knowledge of The Bamboo Suite, but she did assure Agnes that she had familiarised herself most effectively, not only with the staff there, but also with the services they offered.

Fiona explained to her friend and patient that it had all started with the notorious 'MacBride' case, in which she had been accused  baselessly, as it turned out when judgment was finally given in Court against the offending parents and an exemplary sentence was handed down for contempt of Court and attempts to procure a miscarriage of justice  of both neglect and abuse of two of the MacBride family's six children, who were temporarily in her care whilst resident for a few weeks in the area served by the Mitcham, Saunders and Menzies practice. Once it had transpired that the same allegations had been made against other GP practices, with the active help of an unscrupulous firm of ambulance-chasing lawyers, the Police had made further investigations and the entire scam had been exposed publicly and splashed across headlines ranging in tone from measured anger to lurid calls for retribution.

Despite the welcome outcome, the experience had been harrowing for Fiona and her colleagues. Allegations had been made that had left her totally repulsed and fuming with indignation that anybody, whether in their right mind or not, could dream up such a tissue of mendacity. So drastic had been the effect of these dreadful events that Fiona had been on the point of giving up Medicine altogether. However, she had confidence in the substance of her defence and was aware of how resignation would look, at such a critical stage, to a salacious public with a voracious appetite for perceived wrongdoing amongst supposed 'pillars of Society'. Also to news media with an unhealthy aptitude for Schadenfreude  delighting in the misfortunes of others  and with a pathological allergy to rational deliberation and fairness of mind. She had, therefore, resolved that she would not let these unscrupulous people thwart ambitions that were motivated as much by altruism as by the desire to make her mark on her profession.

Agnes was bemused, but she respected Fiona greatly, whilst admiring her in her capacity as a physician and respecting her enormously as a woman. In fact, unbeknown to Fiona  and hermetically-sealed against perception by anyone else  Agnes felt a deep warmth of comfort and trust when she was with her friend, extending on occasions to what she took for a desire to take their friendship to a deeper level of mutual understanding and enjoyment. Whilst both women had close, even intimate, male friends, neither was immune to the appeal of her own sex, predominantly at a social level. Yet neither had betrayed even a hint of this to the other.

"Agnes!". The quiet urgency of the tone in Fiona's voice caught the arbitrator's full attention. "Please trust me and my judgment and try to suspend your own natural instincts when you go to see Helen and Stephen. I promise you it will be worth it."

Agnes smiled at the physician and the latter recognised the hesitancy and uncertainty in what was usually a radiant gesture of precious closeness between trusting friends. Nonetheless, Fiona was confident that Agnes would follow her advice, although it would have been incorrect to say that she was totally confident!



Agnes walked up the short flight of steps, flanked by freshly painted black wrought-iron railings capped with gold-coloured finials, and approached the pale olive-green front door with the brass knocker, handle and letterbox. To the side of the door, there was a polished brass plate that read ' The Bamboo Suite ', with a tasteful, elegant but simple logo featuring a bamboo plant silhouetted against the sun. As she approached the door, it opened unbidden and she was greeted with a natural and comforting smile from a young woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties:

"Good afternoon, Miss Carradine, Helen and Stephen are expecting you."

Agnes returned the smile with the craft of one able to mask her real feelings beneath a convincing diplomatic social laminate and was ushered into a spacious hallway decorated in very pale olive-green, with dark straw-coloured coving and a pure white ceiling, from which an elegant chandelier hung in sparkling splendour. The receptionist, who was dressed in a comfortable and stylish cream-coloured short-sleeved tunic that came down to just above her knees, with the Bamboo Suite logo embroidered just above the left breast, showed Agnes to a comfortable chestnut-coloured leather sofa and then made her way behind a white American oak desk that had obviously not been a bargain. The receptionist, whose name-badge bore the italicised name 'Sophia', sat down and picked up the handset from the trim olive green telephone on the desk.

"Miss Carradine is here, Helen", she said, almost in a whisper, to the person who answered her call.

Agnes looked around at her surroundings, taking in the soft and soothing décor and admiring the original ink drawings  very obviously of Eastern origin  featuring the flora of the Orient in a style that made the viewer's mind work effortlessly in following the flowing black and coloured lines against the pale background. In fact, Agnes felt that she could well have been in a Harley Street consulting suite or at the practice of some highly sophisticated practitioner of complementary medicine. In this line of thinking, she was closer to reality than she may have realised  as she was about to discover.

The sound of a perfectly oiled self-closing door mechanism operating at the top of the broad, sweeping staircase drew Agnes' gaze upwards towards a woman of medium height and build, probably a few years older than her, who was making her way with a light step down towards her. This woman, whom Agnes correctly took for Helen, was wearing a cream coloured two-piece suit and a moleskin coloured satin blouse. For a moment, Agnes could not make out whether this lady was wearing very convincing tan-coloured hosiery or if she was, in fact, sporting a very expensive tan. She looked into the woman's deep brown eyes as she approached and held out a hand of greeting, accompanied by yet another warm and sincere smile.

"Hello, Agnes, I'm Helen Oakley. Fiona has told me a little about you. Would you like to come upstairs, where we can talk in more relaxed and private surroundings."

Agnes reciprocated the courtesies and turned to thank Sophia for her courtesy before following Helen up the stairs. Sophia acknowledged her comments with a comforting smile, before moving swiftly  but with considerable style  to answer the telephone, which was emitting a subdued warble from the desk. In fact, Agnes mused as she walked up the stairs, subdued was a good way to describe 'The Bamboo Suite'.

As she was ushered into a spacious drawing room filled with warm natural light diffused through straw-coloured vertical blinds, Agnes was aware of the presence of a smartly-, but informally-dressed gentleman, probably in his early fifties. He obviously had a very good tailor and his dress sense was appealing to the eye, as indeed was he. Agnes walked, with only slight hesitation, towards him and greeted him with a confidence contrived only by a great effort of perseverance.

"You must be Stephen," she said quietly, through her diplomatic smile, "Fiona spoke at some length about you and Helen."

Stephen accepted the proffered hand and reciprocated the greeting in style and
attitude, before Helen ushered Agnes to a very comfortable, deep armchair upholstered in soft chestnut-coloured leather. Lying face down on the table alongside the chair was a document that looked like a questionnaire. Agnes gave it a cursory glance before turning her attention back to the Oakleys.

As an observer of people, Agnes was in no doubt but that Stephen was very much in charge of the occasion, yet it was Helen who spoke next. In fact, Helen did most of the talking.

"Thank you for visiting us, Agnes. Fiona has given us an outline of the sort of person you are  I gather she had your full authority to do this."

Agnes nodded in assent.

"She has told us nothing of what led her to refer you to us, other than to say that we may be able to assist you as we did her, during a recent episode. Are you happy to tell us a little about yourself and about your situation, Agnes? If you are, we can then tell you how we operate and suggest one or two options that may be of benefit to you."

Again, Agnes nodded and she was in the process of leaning back into the armchair when a side door opened and a second girl entered, wheeling a small trolley laid out for afternoon tea. Agnes watched in semi-astonishment, but soon succumbed to the seductive and comfortable aroma of fresh Darjeeling tea, accompanied by savoury light refreshments and patisserie that began to ease the gnawing in her stomach.

The second girl left the room and, over the next two hours, the three people worked their way painstakingly through the questionnaire that had greeted Agnes on her arrival. It would be no exaggeration to say that, by the end of this process, she was surprised by what the interview had revealed and Helen and Stephen were satisfied at the way in which a potentially tricky phase in the process had been completed. Agnes, however, was still none the wiser as to what form of complementary therapy was practised at 'The Bamboo Suite' and it was with as much genuine curiosity as uncertainty that she finally broached the subject with her hosts.

For a moment, the colour drained from her face, after which she felt a flush of something akin to embarrassment as she attempted to suppress a fit of giggles that had wanted to burst out when Stephen had solemnly answered her question quietly with the words 'Therapeutic discipline'.

"You mean I have to get ………err…….", Agnes hesitated.

"Corporal punishment in the form of therapeutic discipline, Agnes", Helen interjected. "The form and style of that discipline are subjects that we would want to discuss with you in far greater depth should you decide to proceed."

As was often the case, this disclosure provided a useful break point in the conversation. As was also often the case, Agnes overcame an initial urge to run like a frightened schoolgirl from the scene, for she sensed that there was logic in what Stephen and Helen had been saying to her and, despite all her natural instincts, she had been convinced that the idea was not without merit and potential.

After a brief lull in conversation, Agnes asked if she might talk to Fiona before making a decision and then, if she decided to go ahead, bring her along as a chaperone. Stephen and Helen accepted the idea happily and noted that Agnes felt that she would be better able to frame her thoughts if she did not have to contend with unnecessary embarrassment. Thus, she requested that any agreed discipline be administered by another woman. Helen explained that there were two women, apart from her, authorised to administer discipline, along with one man, apart from Stephen. It would not, therefore, pose any problems in logistical terms. She invited Agnes to take her time and to discuss it at length with Fiona before making a decision. In truth, Agnes was rapidly approaching the point where the outcome of any decision-making was academic. She was increasingly persuaded of the wisdom of Fiona's advice, namely that she should over-rule her natural instincts and feel the effects of physical discipline for the very first time in her life.


Fiona and Agnes sat at the latter's home, side by side, on a long settee with serious sleep-inducing potential, such was the manner in which it was constructed. Sleep, however, was the last thing on either woman's mind as Fiona recounted how she had suppressed the deafening cries from her sense of reason, thrown caution to the wind and defied the advice even of one of her closest and most trusted friends, from Medical School. Agnes listen with a growing mixture of disbelief and total captivation as Fiona described in great detail how she had returned to The Bamboo Suite to accept the recommendations that Stephen and Helen had made and how she had ended up, two hours later, returning home feeling as if she was walking on a cloud, experiencing an energy that had re-perfused her self-confidence. Whilst she had fully understood Agnes' reasoning, she had opted for administration of discipline from a male member of the staff, although she did not know who he was. To the mind of the daughter of a conservative clergyman, there was more than an element of the shocking about what Fiona was recounting, particularly in the light of her status within the Community, yet the voice of her trained conscience was engaged in lively debate with the warm-hearted and passionate woman who was also very much part of Agnes' personality.

By the time Fiona had concluded her narrative, it was the passionate woman in Agnes who had scored a points victory over the Rectory daughter and who had decided to go ahead. Agnes' view of Fiona had been re-written from start to finish by the time the dialogue ended, but the changes were far from negative. That having been said, it was Fiona, rather than Agnes, who won the blushing surprise competition in the final moments, when Agnes asked her, somewhat timidly, if she would chaperone her at The Bamboo Suite during the following week. The blushing simply intensified when Agnes went on to ask if Fiona would 'take care of the other details as well'.

Both young women were fully aware of the implications of this request and these were then discussed in some depth. The question of propriety in physician/patient relationships was an obvious problem, yet both of them knew, first and foremost, that theirs was not to become a full-time relationship  rather, a very special shared experience, one that might even be shared in the opposite direction at a later date. Secondly, they realised that, if they were to discuss this with their peers, the laughter that would greet their proposals would, in any case, soon drown out any ethical discussion. The one area in which Fiona did hold back was in the actual administration of discipline. She then explained why she had found the anonymity of the person who had applied the discipline so helpful. She also told Agnes, with a wicked glint in her eye, of something that would surprise her very much indeed.



Having made a telephone call to The Bamboo Suite to confirm her intentions, Agnes walked round to the surgery five days later and set off, on foot, with Helen for Lower Blenheim Street where, just under fifteen minutes later, the door opened unbidden to admit them to the light and airy reception area. The day was less bright than it had been at the time of the first visit, but meteorology was the last subject on either woman's mind.

The registration and consent process was as well-oiled as any such procedure at a clinical establishment. Once the signatures of Agnes and Helen were on the sheet, along with those of two independent witnesses, namely Fiona and Sophia, and the substantial fee had been settled discreetly, the two women were taken upstairs and along a corridor adjoining the drawing room. There were two doors on either side of the door at the end of the corridor. Helen took out a plastic card and swiped it down a scanner set over the lock. The door opened noiselessly and the three women walked through into what looked very like a well-lit air-lock. The outer door closed behind them and, simultaneously, an inner door opened, admitting them to a spacious room in which autumn colours were the theme, reflected in the thick carpet and in the hangings in front of the ultra-efficient three-quarter depth double-glazed windows, between which a dried flower arrangement stood in simple elegance on a modern coffee table in light wood, with a satin finish.

Fiona shivered, unobserved, as the familiar scene met her. Agnes looked around at the strange, but comfortable room. In the centre, positioned half way across the mid-line of the room, was a strange-looking padded structure which, at first sight, bore a loose resemblance to a hinged ironing board, but of more substantial proportions. The two halves of the device, which stood approximately 2' 6" above the carpet and the axis of which appeared to be pivoted around a sturdy wood-encased pillar, leaned out from the vertical plane, forming an angle of approximately 45 degrees. At the base of the near section, there was a brass catch and, on either side of this catch, there was a recess cut into the frame. There were also 1" strips of triple-layer mid-brown velvet dangling on either side of the crisp, freshly-laundered single-piece cover that adorned the entire frame on both sides. Closer inspection by the very curious Agnes revealed that the nearer portion of the frame consisted of two separate segments, that appeared to be hinged at the top, using a mechanism similar to that found in expanding joiners' rulers. Fiona smiled at Helen and the gesture was acknowledged with a hint of a smile.

Examination of the front portion of the frame revealed to Agnes that it had what appeared to be retractable arm rests on either side, the outer end of each featuring a strip of velvet, once again, with two 1" x 1" strips of Velcro sewn into them approximately six inches from the end of the support.

Overcome with curiosity, Agnes walked around the frame again, before moving to the side of the room to peer behind the nearer of two doors. Upon opening it, she found herself in a windowless dressing room, where a single piece cream-coloured smock was hanging wrapped in polythene on a coat hanger. It did not take long for Agnes to find the corporate logo, in its usual place. She then examined the garment and, finding it to be exactly her size, proceeded to investigate the detail. It was a very simple garment, the only unusual feature being the slit that ran down each side, starting just above hip level and extending down to the hem.

Looking to the side, Agnes found a small chest of drawers, in the same American white oak as the desk in the reception area. Cautiously, she opened the top drawer and found a selection of undergarments, all in her size and in a variety of styles and colours, each wrapped in semi-transparent tissue. She smiled and then moved down to examine the contents of the next drawer, which turned out to be bath and hand towels, shower caps and various soaps and shampoos. Again, she smiled, realising once again that quality costs.

Moving on, she peered at the mirror in the door to the shower room cabinet, which she opened, revealing a range of hypoallergenic creams and sprays. She shivered for a moment as she recalled what she had accepted for her discipline ……… 24 hand smacks on each buttock, to be followed by 12 strokes with a two-inch soft-leather strap and an optional 4 strokes from the cane. She knew it would not be easy to see this through, but thus far she was determined to do just that.

Walking back into the main room, Agnes found Fiona and Helen in what could, under different circumstances, have been taken for a conspiratorial conversation, so hushed were the tones. However, the warmth of their smiles told a different story and it was only a matter of moments before Helen announced that, if Agnes was happy, the session would begin, with the anonymity option she had exercised, in exactly ten minutes, by which time it would help if she were in position and ready.

Agnes shivered again and blushed slightly, thankful that she had had the foresight to offer her stressed digestive system a little pharmaceutical assistance in maintaining an artificial calm. Her mind was whirring and her thoughts were becoming more and more confused as Fiona walked to the door adjoining the shower and changing room door and closed it behind Helen as she exited into the ante-chamber leading to the second main corridor.

Fiona held out her hands and Agnes, beginning to realise just how a number of schoolgirls amongst her ancestors must have felt in those bygone days when this sort of thing happened as part and parcel of the normal educational system, accepted the reassurance gratefully. She leaned against her friend and, for a few moments, they stood together, Agnes enfolded in Fiona's arms.

It was no more than a couple of minutes later when Fiona nudged Agnes gently and led her towards the changing room.

"Do you want me to help you, Aggie?", she asked, kindly.

"No thanks, Fi", Agnes replied, but I'd like your advice on these preparations in the medicine chest.

Under expert medical guidance, Agnes selected a mildly anaesthetic gel and a cold cream, which Fiona took back into the main room, along with a packet of cotton wool balls. These were placed on the small table just behind a mysterious, narrow, floor-to-ceiling panel, situated directly opposite a matching panel located between the doors leading to the changing rooms and the exit anteroom.

Agnes undressed slowly, undoing her blouse with greater care than usual and stepping daintily out of her underskirt. She unzipped the knee-length flared maroon skirt and slid it down her legs. She watched her every movement in the full length mirror and, as recommended in the literature she had been given, slipped her French knickers off and placed them in a plastic bag, which she then placed in the corner of the room. For a few minutes, she showered carefully, neglecting no part of her anatomy. Her hands lingered a little longer than usual on her bottom, as she felt its shape and tried to visualise how it would look in half an hour's time. Again, she shivered with that strange mixture of nervousness and excitement that certain people feel when contemplating the imminent administration of discipline.

Stepping carefully out of the shower, Agnes dried herself with meticulous care, before stripping off the polythene wrapping from the smock, which she then donned. She looked intently at her side image in the mirror, then turned and lifted the rear hem of the split lower portion of the smock. She looked at the firmness of her size 14 buttocks and blushed, trying not to giggle and think of the usual clichés that run through one's mind at such times. Happily, she convinced herself that her bum did not look big when thus attired.

Having checked that all her clothing was neatly hung up and that the damp towelling had been placed in the laundry basket, Agnes put the polythene from the smock in the waste bin before opening the top drawer and removing a pair of full-sized plain white cotton briefs that looked extremely comfortable. She removed the tissue, closed the drawer with her hip and then stooped to slip the garment up her legs and thighs and onto her bottom. She felt a frisson of pleasure from the coolness of the fabric and flexed and parted her knees slightly so that she could adjust the knickers for her comfort. Having ensured that everything was as it ought to be, she raised the hem of the smock once again and turned to view the bottom that would soon be gazed upon by eyes that had never before seen her and that she would never recognise as belonging to a person who had applied discipline to her.

It was a gentle tap on the door from Fiona that brought her back to the reality of her situation, reminding her that she had only four minutes in which to get into position.

Hastily, Agnes left the changing room and made her way across to the folding frame device. Seeing her confusion and loss of orientation, Fiona guided her to stand behind it, her feet in the recesses provided at the end of the frame. She then stooped and brought the two strips of padded velvet across Agnes' lower legs and secured them with the Velcro fasteners. Agnes was beginning to tremble, but experience rightly reassured Fiona that this had as much to do with anticipation and excitement as it did with healthy fear. Fiona walked round to the front and asked Agnes to bend forward and place her arms where they would be most comfortable. This Agnes did, in mute, bewildered compliance, whilst her friend adjusted the padded arm-rests and secured the forearms in position with the Velcro fasteners on the strips of padded velvet. In true physician style, Fiona checked the peripheral pulses and felt the firm, albeit accelerated heartbeat of her excitedly anxious friend.

Fiona smiled and stooped to whisper to her friend.

"Which side do you want me to stay, Aggie, here or behind?"

For a moment, Agnes was confused.

"What do you mean, 'which side?'? There's only one room."

"Ah," replied Fiona " we didn’t tell you about that, did we? Well, Aggie, trust me, please and just tell me if you would rather I was here or behind you ….. or even in the ante room!"

"Nnnooo", pleaded Agnes, "stay here with me. Can you watch from behind please. I might get embarrassed if I can see you fully."

Fiona smiled and stood up, looking intently towards the back of the room. She turned momentarily to stoop and kiss her friend on the shoulder, then nodded almost imperceptibly towards the back of the room. A tiny red light flashed just below the light fitting and there was a gentle whirr as electrically-operated roller blinds began to descend behind the vertical blinds at the opposite end of the room, creating an atmosphere similar to that experienced during a total eclipse of the sun, with the exception that there was no chilling sensation ….. at least, not thermally.

Agnes closed her eyes and struggled to contain her emotions as the moment drew nearer and nearer. She was puzzled by what was happening, but so intrigued that this was the sentiment that dominated her thoughts and body. She watched as the roller blinds ran their full course and the room lights dimmed slowly. She also caught sight of Fiona disappearing behind her at exactly the moment when the narrow vertical panel opened, along with a matching narrow ceiling panel linking the two sides of the room. For a ghoulish moment, Agnes' mind wandered into the wildest fantasy as curtains appeared simultaneously from both sides of the room. As they reached the frame, the mechanism continued to draw them across, dividing Agnes' waiting shape into two halves. The sense of detachment that this produced in Agnes was something she could never have imagined, but when a click heralded the raising of a 12" square area of carpet in front of her, her astonishment knew no bounds, for there in front of her was a monitor on which she found herself looking down on her own lower half, bent across the frame in expectation of something she could not even imagine. Without any obvious intervention, the lens appeared slowly to be zooming in on her bottom. Briefly, she caught a glimpse of the top of Fiona's luxuriant hair and saw her turn fleetingly to smile at her. It was probably this simple gesture that prevented her from succumbing totally to panic.

Eventually, the image became fixed and Agnes watched in complete fascination, heavily laced with apprehension, as a pair of fairly narrow, white gloved hands appeared in the field of vision. One of these, rested in the small of her back, depositing a soft leather strap with a bound leather handle. This strap folded itself across her back whilst the hand made sure it was firmly in place. The other hand moved to the seat of the smock. There was the briefest of gaps between the tactile and visual inputs, the combination of which set Agnes' mind into feverish activity. She had decided not to think actively any more, but passively, not conjuring up ideas of what was to happen, but responding to them. Gradually a very soothing sensation took root in her mind and she gave in to it, relaxing and feeling the tension easing gradually out of her muscles. A warmth of mild euphoria seeped over her as the hand slid softly across her seat, feeling out the profiles of the buttocks and hips.

It was a while before Agnes became aware that the hand was no longer touching her bottom and the only pressure she could now feel was that of the strap laid across the small of her back. She looked intently at it and began to find her mind filling with thoughts that were very different from those that she had imagined that she might feel under such circumstances. Her buttocks twitched involuntarily as the hem of the smock was lifted slowly and was then attached carefully to two clips that were attached at exactly the correct height on the curtains. Agnes tensed and watched the muscle movements on the screen, rippling across the cotton.

A few seconds later, a hand re-appeared in the small of the back and the second hand moved to the centre of the left buttock.

Behind the screens, Fiona smiled to the 26-year old girl, with her mid-back length jet black hair, as she stood, poised to begin the discipline……. she nodded very briefly to her and was acknowledged with a brief smile before the young lady, in her smart uniform tunic, turned her attention to Agnes' bottom and patted softly in the centre.

Agnes closed her eyes as the gentle patting soothed her, briefly, but opened them abruptly as the first sharp smack landed in the centre of the bouncing cheek. She gasped momentarily, then closed her eyes briefly before opening them again, to see when and where the second smack would land. It was probably no more than five seconds before it was announced by a short series of warning pats on the right buttock, symmetrically opposite the site where the first smack had landed.

Both the first two smacks were of similar intensity, as were the next ten, which were delivered with almost military timing and precision, covering a band extending over two hand-widths right across the centre two-thirds of each buttock. Just over two minutes after the spanking had started, Agnes was beginning almost to get into a routine and to be adapting to the rhythm when there was a brief pause. She realised that the hand had moved, once again, from the small of her back and that something else was happening.

Behind the screens, once again, Sarah looked at Fiona for her signal and, when it was given with the briefest of nods and a hint of a smile  her gloved fingers slipped inside the knicker waistband and the garment was rolled down to form a thick line at the base of the cheeks. The gloved hands probed with exquisite gentleness, to dislodge the fabric from between Agnes' thigh tops, after which the garment was rolled down to mid-thigh and left there. Again, the reassuring hand was moved into position over the strap, whilst the spanking hand returned to its task.

There was no mistaking the fact that the next 18 smacks were considerably more intense than the 24 initial smacks. In fact, Agnes was beginning to struggle as the first 12 were administered, but then she became aware of a strange sensation, borne of a mixture of the semi-erotic experience of watching her own bottom being bared and spanked, combined with a new and totally unexpected sensation that seemed to create a powerful feeling that had all the hallmarks of intense sexual pleasure, yet was not overtly sexual. She struggled in vain to put a name to this feeling, but she did find that the more widely-spaced second batch of smacks, lasting just over two and a half minutes, was nothing like what she had expected.

There was a longer pause at the end of the second batch, during which Agnes noted the change in the colour of her bottom and the way in which her body was responding to this new form of interaction. She was thinking deeply about how she wished it were Fiona who was doing this, yet the unknown element albeit against the background of Fiona's reassuring presence  added a distinct element of spice to the scene.

The final batch of six smacks really did catch Agnes off guard. Young though Sarah may have been, her hand delivered a series of resounding smacks, extending right across Agnes' bottom, causing Agnes to squirm as the sting of each smack dissipated into the underlying buttock.

At the end of the hand spanking, Sarah brushed her hand lightly over the reddened bottom and felt her way softly, once again, over the rounded contours, bordering on, but never crossing, the boundary of intimate touch. Agnes found herself sighing, with her eyes closed, whilst, unknown to her, Fiona hugged Sarah and kissed her cheek before the young woman left the room via the ante room through which she had entered, crossing an older woman, in her mid-40s, who was on her way in.

The interval between the hand spanking and the first stroke with the strap probably lasted approximately four minutes but, by the time the fabric of the soft leather was being draped lightly across the exposed cheeks, Agnes was semi-disoriented, trying not to rationalise what she was feeling mentally and physically.

The change in sensation from her burning buttocks did, however, draw Agnes' attention back and she watched, in an almost hypnotic state, as the end of the strap was gripped by a new white-gloved hand and was drawn back, before being released to fly back onto the waiting buttock with a Thwack! sound that echoed behind the curtain and filtered through, in muffled form, to where Agnes was gasping for breath. Jennifer, who had taken over from Sarah, was standing opposite Fiona and took her cue on each occasion to deliver the next stroke. This time, there was no pause during the discipline and the strap fell, with gradually increasing intensity, twelve times across the deepening red skin of Agnes' behind. At intervals of approximately 15 seconds, the crack of leather bounced around the walls of the rear half of the room as the rounded muscles bounced under the impact. Agnes' mind was swimming in a jumble of thoughts  her bottom stinging more sharply with each stroke, her body singing with an arousal it had never previously experienced.

The strapping was, in fact, over before Agnes realised that she had taken the full tally. There was then a pause, during which an unreal silence hovered over the scene as Jennifer looked questioningly at Fiona and the latter looked back at the short, moderately springy cane that she was holding flexed in her hands. Fiona beckoned to Jennifer to wait for a few moments whilst she moved to the wall and pulled the curtain back slightly, crossing to the front of the room. She stooped beside Agnes, who looked her straight in the eye, now suddenly alert and full of an energy she had never expected to feel. Before Fiona had a chance to say a word, Agnes nodded in assent to the unasked question. Fiona smiled and kissed her on the forehead and popped her head briefly behind the curtain to nod to Jennifer. Agnes looked down at the screen as Fiona made her way back to her.

Behind the curtain, Jennifer took up her stance at the correct distance. She held the cane out and brought it very lightly onto the equator of Agnes' bottom. In the grip of unfathomable thoughts and desires, Agnes watched in fascination as the slight movements of the cane coincided with the tapping that she felt across her buttocks. She relaxed, almost pushing herself into the cane, then froze as the implement disappeared briefly from view, re-appearing a split second before a sharp sting blazed its way across her bottom. She arched her back and gripped Fiona's hand tightly. Agnes' breathing became shallow for a few seconds, but then deepened dramatically as she struggled with the pain. Despite the sharpness, she managed a smile and then closed her eyes and waited for the next stroke to land, which it did approximately fifteen seconds later, right at the base of the buttocks. The gasp that it elicited was, if anything, deeper than it had been under the first stroke and the tightness of Agnes' grip strengthened proportionately. The final two firm strokes made their impact well and truly felt, being laid on at the same intervals, landing between the first and second pair of tramlines that were forming lividly across the pale skin.

As the mental and physical effects of the disciplinary session sank in, Fiona went behind the curtain again and mouthed "Well done!" to Jennifer, then smiled very warmly as the older lady waved, with a reciprocated smile, before following the route that Sarah had taken out of the room, into the entrance ante-room and then on to the corridor.

With a barely perceptible whirr, the curtains glided back into their appropriate recesses in the walls and ceiling, whilst the lights came up very slowly. Fiona looked at Agnes' well-chastised bottom and smiled before stooping at her friend's side just as the monitor was disappearing back into the floor, leaving no trace whatsoever of its presence. Agnes opened her eyes and looked into Fiona's gaze with a mixture of affection and unspoken desires:

"It's up to you now, Fi!"

Agnes winked through the vestiges of a tear as Fiona acknowledged the request and moved to the side of the folding frame, where she pressed lightly on an icon depicting something resembling an operating theatre table, with arrows rising from the extremities. Again, there was a whirr and, slowly, the ends of the frame began to move upwards, whilst the entire frame started to rise, stopping with a slight click at a position where Agnes' prone form was comfortably positioned level with Fiona's elbows, pivoted about the axis of her hips at an angle of approximately 15° below the horizontal in the upper and lower halves of body. This left her bottom elevated, with the buttocks very slightly stretched.

Fiona moved to Agnes' feet and released the brass catch. The two segments of the lower part of the frame moved a fraction of an inch apart and Fiona then broke the Velcro fastening before tying the strips of Velvet to the sides of the frame. Then, she removed Agnes' knickers very carefully from her thighs before moving to the head of the frame. Again, she removed the restraints, then adjusted the arm-rests before walking at a measured pace to the changing room, discarding the knickers in the disposal basket and taking a fresh, identical pair from the top drawer. She returned with the small garment and a pillow, placing the knickers on the table, alongside the cream, gel and cotton wool balls. Walking back to Agnes, she placed the pillow under the young woman's floating head and smiled, before kissing her gently on the forehead. Fiona then returned to the changing room and armed herself with four soft hand towels, a deep plastic bowl full of warm, plain water and a soft natural sponge. These items she carried carefully back into the main room, placing them on a trolley, alongside the table bearing the toiletries.

Having returned one final time to the changing room, Fiona washed her hands carefully, dried them meticulously, then re-entered the main room. She wheeled the trolley across to the elevated spanking frame and took her stance alongside it. Leaning across Agnes' prone form, she blew gently down along the lines of the four stripes that had become well established on the virgin cheeks. Reaching with her right hand, she took cotton wool and the gel and, having applied a good portion of the latter, proceeded to run the cotton wool across the length of each stripe in turn, never once allowing either her hand or the cotton wool  only the gel  to come into contact with the weals.

Whilst the gel was taking effect, Fiona wheeled her chair across to Agnes' head and began to stroke her hair gently. Her whole manner was one of consolation and empathy, for she knew exactly how Agnes was feeling at that moment. She whispered into her friend's ear:

"Ok, Aggie, I know it's early for an opinion, but was there anything you actively disliked about that experience?"

Agnes looked at her friend, expression-less at first, then broke into a beaming smile and whispered:

"Not a thing, Fi. And I doubt that this will be the last time!"

"Really?", replied the young physician, almost but not quite  astonished to hear that it had gone so well. "Actually, I'm not surprised", she admitted, in half truth. "I think your reaction is similar to what mine was. Are you very sore, love?"

Agnes winced slightly and nodded in confirmation.

"Very sore!", she replied, "but I can't make sense of the way the soreness isn't what I'm used to when I've hurt myself. Anyway, what was it you were saying about surprises?", she added, with a wicked grin.

Fiona looked on tenderly as her hand massaged the back of Agnes' neck.

"Aggie", she said, in a slightly diffident voice that did not really fit with her image, "are you sure you want an exact replication of my post-discipline wind-down treatment?"

Agnes held a hand out and Fiona took hold of it gently. Agnes squeezed her softly and smiled. "Yes, please!"

Fiona moved back to Agnes' bottom and, very gingerly, started to apply arnica cream to the striped skin, where the gel had now been absorbed entirely. Her fingertips moved very lightly over the weals and along the furrows of deep red skin between, where the inflammation was just beginning to show signs of subsiding. Gradually, the fingertips gave way to the palm of Fiona's hand, with a remarkable effect on each woman. Fiona had never touched another woman in this way before, despite having had intimate tactile contact with hundreds of female patients. She felt a great depth of warmth and closeness to Agnes and smiled to herself as application of the cream finished.

"How is the sting now, Aggie?", she enquired quietly.

"It's been replaced by a deep throbbing sensation …. and its not entirely unpleasant", replied Agnes, drowsily.

Agnes may well have been relaxed, but the fires were burning inside and outside her body. After Fiona had washed her hands once again and returned to her friend's side, it was almost a natural reflex to move her hand back to comfort Agnes' cheeks. Agnes rolled her hips very slightly and uttered a barely perceptible groan as the two halves of the lower segment of the frame parted. Fiona's left hand slid back onto Agnes' right thigh and her fingers folded around the soft skin. Very slowly, as the lights dimmed again, her hand moved towards deepest intimacy with Agnes. Both women let out a slight gasp as the migrating fingers finally folded round the soft feminine down surrounding an intimate area that exhibited clear enough evidence of how receptive the young woman was to this delicious attention. As the lights finally went out, Agnes carefully lifted her middle, wincing slightly in the process, whilst Fiona slid a thick towel underneath her. The chair was then wheeled between the leg sections of the lower segment of the frame and skilled medical hands began a journey of intimate exploration and pleasuring, the clinical benefits of which were solely sexual and psychological. Agnes smiled and sighed deeply as she welcomed her friend in the closest intimacy.
There was something so tender and so close, intimate, about the way in which Fiona looked after Agnes following her introduction to the therapeutic discipline scene that one could so easily have mistaken the two women for established lovers. Over the next hour, Fiona took her friend to soaring heights of intimate ecstasy, firstly with her hands and then, drawn so powerfully to the shape and posture of her friend, with a tongue that soon coaxed Agnes to the most powerful, Richter-scale orgasms of her life. Finally, there was something entirely unselfish and intimate about the way in which Fiona washed and dried her friend in those warm and intimate places, before helping Agnes to stand and sliding the clean, fresh underwear gently up her legs and thighs and, with exquisite care, onto the ever-throbbing cheeks.

After Fiona had showered and dressed, the two women held each other in a warm embrace for several minutes, before the Diktat of the clock sent Fiona back for late afternoon surgery.

With great care, Agnes sat down gingerly on a straight-backed chair and was surprised to find that it was not as difficult as she had feared it might be. She was bursting with curiosity to see the marks that the spanking and caning had left on her bottom, so she rose, walked slowly into the shower room and turned away from the full-length mirror, rotating her head to see the evidence. As the skirt rose to her waist, she lowered her knickers half way down her bottom, wincing in the process. She looked again at the mirror and gasped  in pure admiration. Never had she imagined for a second that she would have gone through that afternoon's events willingly. But she had! As for viewing her own 'trophies' in the mirror, she began to wonder if she was losing her grip on reality, but Fiona had spoken to her of how she might feel upon seeing the first-ever set of stripes across her bottom.

Twenty minutes later, as she walked down the street, a passing Jack Russell terrier, with human companion, looked up from his investigations of the pavement and stared at Agnes. The companion was oblivious to passers-by, but the dog, characteristically, was not! It appeared to be on the point of barking at her when Agnes grinned and blew a kiss to the inquisitive hound. Since her imagination was obviously in overdrive, it could not possibly have been the case that the dog winked at her, before an ageing, grizzly, grey feline on the other side of the street distracted his labile attention and an unpleasant addition to road casualty statistics was only prevented by the strength of leather, feline escape speeds and a curiously engaging effect upon the dog of a very happy young woman's smile.