Caught Buying Dresses                     by Prim

“Three more perverts needing correction,” announced Miss Karlie. She waited almost a minute before Mistress Harriet had finished dealing with her previous miscreant and gave him one last slash of her leather tawse across the glowing skin of his red ass.

The Principal of the Frilly Panty-Boy Correction Centre slumped into her chair after her exertions and laid her tawse carefully across her lap. It would be needed again in a few minutes. “Who have we got?” she asked. “I can see they are all disgusting panty-waists.”

Miss Karlie and Miss Megan lined their captives up to be charged. “This is James Dezgrace,” declared Miss Karlie. “We caught him taking a long time in Braithwaite’s lingerie section, gathering nylon slips for purchase.”

The transvestite in question couldn’t hide the knee-length full slips he was holding, still on their retail hangers. “I-I – Well I was looking where to put them back, ma’am. I wasn’t thinking of buying them. Definitely not for myself!”

“Of course not, except that you’re wearing a blouse and skirt. You don’t fool anyone, you pansy. You’re getting fifty lashes for being such a sexless wimp and a liar. Who’s that?”

“This is Charles Fawkes. He had two blouses and two skirts in his hands as we watched him from behind. We moved in when he took this skirt he liked to the checkout.”

Mistress Harriet sneered until her lips bunched into a clutch of crimson lip-gloss. “I suppose you were buying them for your wife?”

“Er – er, yes ma’am, for my wife. She – er – she likes pretty pink skirts with hearts – ”

“You wanted it yourself, you lying toad!” screamed Mistress Harriet. “Fifty lashes! Next!”

Miss Megan pushed their third prisoner forward so that he fell to his knees, his precious silk dress in front of him. “Caught coming out of Panties and Petticoats, carrying this dress, the sissy clown,” she said, her voice a growl.

Mistress Harriet raised her eyebrows and asked: “Well, what is your name, dear?”

A fit of shakes seized his body as the third captive looked up with panic and said: Please ma’am, I’m Timothy Pip. I – I was buying a b-b-birthday present fo-fo-for the g-girl who lives next door.”

“No kidding? GARBAGE! You’ll have fifty strokes like the others. Ladies, fasten their new purchases over their heads and upend them over the stools. We’ll need to share the whipping so that we can lay it on hard. Then we’ll parade them down the street with their heads enclosed in their female purchases. I wouldn’t be surprised if they would like that, so we’ll be doing them a favour.”

------------