Subject: A Penny for Your Thoughts
From: (John Benson)
Date: 13 Jul 1998 05:53:42 -0700

A Penny for Your Thoughts

He frowned down at his nearly full drink, laid it on the table top, and paced. The room had pretty much the Motel 6 standard floor plan, so the pacing area was limited. The door opened and closed, and he looked at the young woman. She wore a one-piece translucent gown with a prominent zipper up the front and a large brass ring emphasizing the pull. That and a nervous little smile. And the collar of course. This wouldn't be happening if it weren't for the collar.

"Hi," she said. "My name is Penny and I've been a very naughty girl." Her dark hair was cut short. Her brown eyes were round and vulnerable. The body wasn't going to win any prizes, but it was trim and compact and healthy. Late twenties, early thirties. Cute. The package definitely counted as cute.

He found his voice. "And what should I do to a girl who has been very naughty," he said.

She looked down. "Anything you want," she said. "But then they ask if you'll please whip my ass after you're done. This is supposed to be punishment for me."

He smiled. "Where to start," he said. "Let's see."

"Start by taking this off me," she said. Her shoulders heaved as she breathed deep. "When I'm bared, the collar makes me very needy and obedient."

"You strike me as very needy and obedient already, Penny," he said.

"It gets worse sir," she said. "Do it. You'll see. Come on. What are you waiting for." She put her hands behind her head.

He grabbed the brass ring and pulled the zipper down, oh maybe an inch. "Like this?" he said.

Her breath came in gasps. "Please," she said. "Do it. I can't stop you."

He pulled it down another inch.

"You're a tease," she whined.

"It's fun to tease girls," he said. The zipper came down slowly, and when the garment parted, he reached a hand in between her legs. It was already sopping wet there. The psychometric electronica in the collar made her find his touch perfect. He petted and she rocked rhythmically.

"See how naughty I am," she said. "Treat me like a slut and then spank me. Please?"

Instead he took his hand away. "I think it's gone far enough to prove a point, Penny. I'm here because I'm writing an article about the phenomenon of these punishment centers. As tempting as it would be to continue, I'm afraid I might lose my objectivity. So let's just leave it at that, all right?"

"No," she wailed. "Please please do what you were doing. Please?"

"I'd rather not," he said.

She whimpered. "At least give me a good whipping," she said. "If you don't, they will be very mean to me. Punish me worse than anything you would do. Please?"

"I suppose," he said. "It would be cruel of me to treat you with misplaced kindness. The collar won't leave you alone until you've had a good cry, will it. Well all right then."

"There's a whip in the drawer," she said. She shucked off her article of clothing and knelt down and draped herself over a footstool.

He came back over to her fingering the whip. "You're sure you need this," he said.

"Please," she said. "I'm a bad girl. Make me cry."

He struck. A line of red appeared on her white skin. She moaned. His manhood bulged, trying to escape from his trousers. He struck again.

It was too much. He threw down the whip and whipped out his pride and joy and knelt down behind her and found the right place. She oohed and ahed and enjoyed every fucking minute of it.

He withdrew from her, spent. "There goes my objectivity," he said. "You really are a bad girl."

She giggled with girlish pride. It inspired him to find the whip and finish the job he had started. He did not stop until she lay there crying. As he left, she thanked him through her tears.

He checked somewhat guiltily to make sure he was all back together again. Shirt tucked in? Check. Fly zipped up? Check. The Director's office was just a little way down the hall.

She waited for him, her tweedy business suit such a striking contrast to what her inmates wore. She seemed to expect him. Maybe she had even watched. "What do you think," she said.

He couldn't suppress the grin. "A very atavistic experience," he said. "I suppose I'm a bit shocked at how strongly I reacted to it."

"It's even more intense for the woman," she said. "With the collar channeling and amplifying her feelings like that. Care for tea? Another scotch?"

"No. Thank you. The girl seemed so... fresh. But only serious felons are ever sentenced to wear the collar. What was her crime?"

"Little Penny? She's a volunteer. Many of the women are."

"A volunteer?"

"Yes. They do it to themselves. Penny is a physician's assistant in a downtown clinic. She's fighting a credit card habit, and caught herself backsliding. So she sentenced herself to two weeks under the collar to punish herself. Sex and pain, helplessness and shame, humiliation and remorse. When this is over, she will cut up her credit cards. I'm sure of it."

"I want her name," he said. "She's such a sweet little thing. Maybe we can become friends."

The Director's smile was bleak. "We have to preserve anonymity," she said. "It's in our charter. And besides. When she's not under the collar, Penny is almost painfully shy. I don't think she has anything resembling a social life."

He frowned. "Then maybe she had mixed motives for what she did, Director. She could be of two minds, one of which will want to learn its lesson, the other of which will be looking for some kind of excuse to come back and experience some of that intensity again as a cure for an overly dull life."

"Conjecture," she said. Her hand waved dismissively. "You're not going to write your article based on conjecture, are you?"

"I prefer facts," he said. "Do you ever see repeaters among your volunteers? If so, it would lend some credence to my supposition."

"I wouldn't have those figures at my fingertips," she said. The fingertips gestured again.

"I wonder if you ever wind up with people becoming addicted," he said. "After all, an electronic psychotrope could wind up being every bit as much of a dopamine affector as a chemical one."

"I think you'd better leave," she said. "And if your magazine publishes any of your little unsubstantiated fantasies, it will be dueling attorneys at ten paces. Is that clear?"

"Very clear, Director," he said. "The Bureau of Prisons never made a profit before, and you're not going to let anything stand in your way, and your sharks are bigger than my sharks. Well, I'm a professional and that means I'm a survivor."

She inclined her head. He stood and left. She waited until the door closed tightly and picked up her intercom.

"Send little Penny to one of the other centers," she said. "Singapore would be nice. Or Malaysia. That reporter. He wanted to put a personal face on the phenomenon and I gave him sweet little Penny. But now he's getting a little too snoopy. No. She won't give you any trouble. All you have to threaten to do is take her collar away and she'll walk straight to Hell for you. We tried to wean her of it a few months ago remember and she cried herself sick. No, I agree. It's a damn shame. But you have to admit. They do make damn good whores."