CHAPTER 1

 

"Listen up ladies and gentlemen - welcome to State Re-education and Correction Centre number 4."

The voice of the pretty Indian woman on the stage rang out after she had clapped her hands for the attention of the fifty or so frightened looking people of all ages and colours below her on the wooden floor of a gymnasium. She was somewhere in her early forties, quite short and spoke very politely but she commanded an air of respect and fear as she stood in her smart black trouser-suit looking down at them from the stage. Their rapidly growing and fearing knowledge of the new and awesome power of the British state ensured that - she was the state's representative.

"You cunts, shut the fuck up," screamed another voice from the side of the room, a tough looking male guard in green uniform and carrying a cane. The few voices in the centre of the room who had been, as they thought, discreetly whispering fell silent.

"Thank you," resumed the Indian woman. "My name is Mrs Pangar, I am the Deputy Head of this facility and you will call me 'Ma'am' should you ever need to address me in the future. Respect and obedience to rules is essential here as you are re-educated to take your places back into society. "You will now be divided into sections under the control of your immediate team leaders who will instruct you further. Thank you," the woman turned on her elegant heels and left the stage.

For nearly a minute various voices shouted out names and bellowed for their owners to assemble in different areas of the gym designated by various coloured flags and partitioning curtains.

"Right, you four are mine, you are red team. I want you looking at me, only at me, no chattering, only complete obedience and attention. Get it?" the muscular Turkish woman in uniform snapped like a demented sergeant major. She ushered her frightened charges, including our unfortunate heroine into one of the areas of the large hall and pulled the curtain to enclose them.

The Turkish woman was in her thirties and her harsh eyes passed like granite flints over the four apprehensive beauties who stood trembling before her. One was a Negress, one Arabic and two were white. Their uniting feature was their age, all in their early twenties, and their beauty. These four were the youngest and prettiest women of that intake. Their wide, frightened eyes glanced at the short cane their mentor swished back and forth to emphasise her words.

They nodded bleakly.

"No, not fuckin' good enough! You indicate respectfully that you understand what I'm telling you. 'Yes ma'am' is what I look for" the woman shouted lashing her cane across the curve of the pert backside of the woman nearest her with a cane hanging from her belt.

"Ow, yes, sorry," gasped the blonde rubbing her bottom, her eyes flashing angrily at her tormentor.

"I don't think you do understand and if not I'll have to give you more of this across your fat arses," she lied, "to get it into your thick skulls." She slammed her cane into her own hand. "Now I have all of you cows looking at me and saying, yes ma'am.'

"Yes Ma'am we understand," the four replied softly licking nervous lips. Now they looked only at the terrible woman who could do this to them.

 

Linda, our heroine, the pretty young blonde whose bottom still smarted from the cane could hardly believe this was happening in 21^st century England. She had been summoned to this regional centre in South East England with her husband John. They had held each other's hand tightly as the orders were bellowed out but the swell of people all dashing off to their ordained positions in the hall had torn them apart. Now she had lost sight of him. He was lost in the State system - just like her.

In her mid-twenties she was a normal middle class housewife and hairdresser, albeit strikingly pretty, who minded her own business. Now, she along with many others had fallen foul of the harsh new laws introduced by the latest Government of England which had been installed after the UK Islamic revolution of 2020.

The mesh of the horrible State police had slowly ensnared her and her husband for various perceived offences - and for apparently making an enemy of the wrong person. Society's rules had been gradually changed and private enterprise squashed along with anyone who tried to make a decent living from it. It was apparently no longer permissible to enlarge one's own hard fought for business.

Divided up into small groups each under the control of a uniformed guard her husband was somewhere in the main hall beyond the curtain; she was effectively on her own now. She together with the other three girls nearly as pretty as her looked attentively at the uniformed Turkish woman, wondering what she would do next.

"Did you think you were going to a pretty party?" the woman's eyes settled on Linda mocking her sexy short white skirt and blouse. Yet it was an unseasonably warm day and when she had dressed that morning she was determined not to bow to the state machine. Whatever lay ahead she was going to dress as normal. Now she wasn't so sure or so brave.

"You look like a tart to me, wiggling your little arse for all to see, get it off, slut," she abruptly tugged Linda's blouse out from where it was neatly tucked into her skirt. "I'll see more of you all; it helps to concentrate minds and break down barriers. So, all of you strip to your underwear, now ladies," she snapped into their shocked faces. Yet Linda had already suffered enough at the hands of the State over the last couple of weeks, their intrusions into her home, that she knew better than to disobey. As she began unbuttoning her blouse with trembling fingers her face flushed she thought miserably of the road which had led here.

 

CHAPTER 2

 

The knock on the door awoke Linda from a sound sleep following a rather energetic night in bed with her husband, John. She was still sleepy, her tee-shirt nightie scrunched in a heap on the floor. Lazily she turned her tousled head on the pink pillow to the bedside clock; it was only 7am! She wondered who on earth could be knocking at this time on a Monday morning...

"Shit... John, quick it must be the bloody Ministry inspection. Get something on, get the door," she jabbed her elbow into his broad chest as she jumped from the bed, snatching up her tee-shirt as she scampered into the bathroom, aware of his eyes still lingering on her bouncing breasts as he pulled on his clothes.

She breathed a tentative sigh of relief when she finally heard him stumble down to answer the door whilst she had a wee. It sounded like a woman's voice downstairs, quite sharp in answer to John's customary sleepy tones. Sometimes she wondered where he would be today if she didn't occasionally have to stick a firework up his bottom. But now she had let the side down too by oversleeping.

Quickly she showered away the sheen of spent passion from her body. Although she said so herself, and their male friends certainly did, she was a beauty. The large bathroom mirror confirmed it. Her tousled blonde hair framed a doll-like face with wide blue eyes and full sensuous lips. Her 36B breasts were as firm as a teenager's despite her being all of twenty four, and a flat belly and pert bottom completed the picture.

When she was a teenager previous boyfriends had suggested she in fact go into films but she decided there was more money in setting up a hairdressing salon - and now she and her husband owned two. But a dark cloud descended in her brain. Since the takeover ten years ago in 2020 of the Government by an Islamic-style fanatical alliance the puritanical state had gradually squeezed out all personal freedom. Now sliding to even greater extremes over the last couple of years the state controlled absolutely everything, dictating how they ran their business, even invading people's lives. And today's visit was just such an invasion. It was an inspection to virtually audit their lives, tell them of any aspects unacceptable to the state and ensure that they changed accordingly. She guessed that someone, maybe a jealous friend or neighbour, envious of their successful shops had suggested they be looked into; and they had all of twenty four hours warning. There was nothing they could do to prevent it, no one to appeal to. Yet unless the state machine could somehow be overturned things would just get worse. Life outside the four walls of her home was no longer a pleasure, more an endurance. She and John were thinking about seeking permission to leave the country- free movement of people no longer being allowed. How easily, she thought, have people gradually accepted ever more control over their lives.

But these were, she knew, dangerous thoughts these days, rumours abounded of camps into which people, people who dared to object, simply disappeared, their houses and possessions being given by the state to its supporters or other needy causes. Because there was no real choice people just soldiered on hoping that the election due next year wouldn't be cancelled like the last one. And that assumed that any candidates were brave enough to canvas for an alternative system.

Linda could hear a woman's slightly raised voice downstairs, and then John calling up to her.

"Come on down sweetheart, quickly, I hope you're feeling better now, the lady is waiting down here."

As she patted her hair into place and pulled on her customary revealing bra and thong she could have kissed John for providing her with an excuse - indeed she would have done more than that if he was here with her and they were alone. But this puritanical regime didn't even seem to outwardly approve of women showing off their legs and so she tugged on tight white trousers and a new tee-shirt and ran downstairs.

An armed uniformed policeman stood by the door. He was young and looked embarrassed as if he didn't want to be there, but she guessed that he would obey any orders given. Like everyone else nowadays, choices were limited. He avoided her eyes although she was aware of him glancing surreptitiously at the curve of her wiggling bottom.

Linda smiled sweetly at the tall woman who stood before John. She was intimidating - quite large, in her thirties she guessed and with sharp features, maybe Romanian. Her smart green state uniform blended with her olive coloured skin, and it had numerous badges and buttons, and quite ominously a short, thin switch hanging from her belt. She was obviously meant to be an important official and to emphasise it she carried a clipboard and had a briefcase at her feet.

A flashing light caught Linda's eye and outside she saw the customary arm of enforcement to back-up the woman, a military police car parked to ensure that her neighbours would know that they were having one of these shameful state inspections. No-one quite knew apart from rumours what to expect. Again they just had to endure.

The woman didn't immediately acknowledge her.

"A coffee, two sugars please Mr Brewer," she demanded in sharp foreign tones to John. It was a voice which brooked no dissent and knew that it would be obeyed. And with a nervous half smile at his wife, John went to the kitchen. As if she owned the house the woman closed the door behind him and turned to Linda, her small black eyes darted over her.

"Glad you could join us, I trust you are better now?"

"Yes- thank you," she nodded, looking down.

"A sore throat, the beginnings of a cold wasn't it?"

"Yes -yes that's right agreed Linda, thankful to pick up on whatever excuse John must have made for her.

"Mmm, that funny, your husband, he say it was woman's problems, bad time of the month." The woman's eyes seemed to glitter still brighter.

"Oh, no, no, I-I think he -he must have got confused, you know what men are like, more of a headache really, but I'm OK now," she stammered, blushing and now totally on the defensive.

"So when was your last period?" The question was outrageous from a stranger. Not the sort of thing she had ever been asked publicly.

"What do you mean? What right have you...? Linda looked awkwardly at the policeman, who seemed to look amused at the exchange, at the airing of such intimate details.

"I have every right you impudent little tart, I represent the all-giving all-powerful state - don't ever forget it. I wonder how you like some time in punishment and re-education camp, flaunting your bottom around would count for nothing there," the woman hissed with low voiced venom, making Linda jump when her hand lightly but outrageously smacked her backside. "Now, your last period please?"

"Er, it - it was a few days ago," Linda whispered shamefully, wishing she didn't have to give these details so publicly, wanting John to be back in the room and telling the arrogant cow to clear off, leave them alone. But she knew that wouldn't happen.

"Lying is not a good start to this examination Mrs Brewer is it," the woman's shrewd face twitched almost into a smile of satisfaction as she made a note on her clipboard. "Ah, here's the coffee," she nodded as John emerged from the kitchen. "While you're both here together I must say this examination has not got off to good start so we set a few ground-rules. Yuk, this coffee is crap, not like good Romanian coffee - too much milk," the woman crudely spat a mouthful over the pristine white carpet. Still I expect that rich people like you can afford too much milk, along with your many hairdressing shops."

"We've only got one shop ... well one each, one in each name," Linda amplified, with probably too much outrage, when she saw the narrowing of the woman's eyes. She guessed that these bastards already knew these things about them. This was just a game. She glared at strain spreading on her lovely carpet.

"And yet you should know that only one business is allowed per family."

No it says in..."

"The rules were changed last month," the woman cut across her. "You obviously don't take sufficient interest in regulations, or choose to ignore them," she again noted her clipboard. Linda ground her teeth. They would now have to lose some of their income thanks to the State - and it was made worse by being lectured like naughty schoolchildren in their own house.

"OK well, we'll have to sell one won't we," Linda said tartly, hands on hips, trying to control her temper. She had been aware of the tightening of the rules but had hoped to get away with it for a while until they could sort it out.

"I'll get a cloth, shall I?" she nodded at the stain.

"It not as simple as that and I prefer you both here in front of me please Brewer," there was more ice now in the woman's tone and Linda stopped short. She was unused to being ordered round in her own home but didn't feel brave enough to stand up to the woman. "It's a case of penalties and punishments for not immediately registering the additional business for sale and for the record you should both be addressing me, an official of the state, as 'Madam'. You both understand?"

"Yes ... yes Madam," Linda parted with the two humble words as reluctantly as if they were expensive diamonds and John hastily followed suit. This cow held all the aces and knew it. Being servile to her was like acid in her throat yet there was no choice. They both knew they were on dangerous ground.

"Good, we may be getting somewhere. I have another coffee, only a little milk and have one yourself - I not drink this," she carefully tipped the contents of the cup onto the carpet alongside the other stain. "You may as well clear it all up - expensive carpets like this don't stain deeply."

With her fists clenched Linda put on the kettle and came back to scrub the carpet before her now seated and grinning tormentor. The bitch was calmly running through facts about their business and home with John and poor Linda could sense her whole live unravelling. Yet things could only get worse.

"I need you both to undress to give you each a complete superficial examination and take photographs for the state records," the woman announced in a matter of fact way when they were all sitting and drinking coffee almost like friends at a coffee morning. "There's so much attempted identity fraud these days."

"What! You expect to- to...just und... ." Linda put down her mug where her hand was shaking so much. She flushed beetroot red, acutely aware of the policeman standing by the door.

"What I expect is desired respect and obedience, English trash. You still think you run this country and that we are second class. Not anymore, bitch, things have changed and it be my pleasure to show you how. And it make my day if either of you step out of line - the gentlemen outside will enjoy it too," her voice was low with venom as John's hands bunched into huge fists. Somehow he controlled himself. "You, girl," she talked down to Linda, "I need you to strip for me to examine you in a moment, I'm sure you have nothing I haven't seen before," the woman's voice dropped as she briefly stroked and patted Linda's thigh. "Or if you like I can summon help," her tone now again had a business-like edge as she nodded at the man by the door. "And there's more in the car outside. "I know it is an imposition officer but if necessary would you help this ...lady undress? I need to make a formal identification."

"If, if you need me to Ma'am," he replied looking a bit awkward again, shuffling his feet but not totally disinterested as he glanced at Linda's curvy body beneath her tight clothes. He could only have been a teenager thought Linda, blushing profusely.

"Well, far be it from me to subject you to rather an unpleasant sight officer so we'll maybe ask the lady to take her clothes off upstairs and I'll check her in a minute. OK Mrs Brewer, you've one final chance. Upstairs in your bedroom, strip off to await me. Lean against the wardrobe, legs and arms wide facing it and leave the bedroom door wide open so you don't get any stupid ideas about trying to fight or resist me. Do it now or regret it," she demanded. "And you Mr Brewer can strip off down here. You've five seconds to decide whether to obey or face the consequences."

Her face hot with shame, Linda got to her feet.

"There's a good girl, up you go, I'll be up shortly," the woman spoke and, as if they were lovers, with utter familiarity, the cow patted the pert curve of her bottom.

"Ow, please," she squirmed away, blushing as she shuffled to the stairs and began climbing, aware of the young policeman watching her curiously. With as much dignity a she could find she walked into her bedroom.

"Leave the door open," the woman called from below as Linda at first pushed it too.

For a moment, she sat trembling on her bed, trying to collect herself. This was all so awfully shocking and strange for her. She instinctively started to make the ruffled bed but then stopped at the ridiculousness of the situation. She was worried about tidying up for a stranger when that stranger was going to force her to display her body. The cow could just take the room as it was - Linda guessed that she wouldn't be interested anyway. With shaking fingers she began undressing. All the time she wondered how she could be calmly taking her clothes off in her own house to be examined for no good reason by a total and brute stranger.

 

***

 

"Clothes off - everything." Downstairs, it felt so unnatural for John too as he began removing his clothes before the woman. Yet again he had no choice.

"I want it all off, naked before me in a minute or someone else will do it for you," the woman demanded when he was down to his underpants and socks. "And I'm surprised that you're happy to flash these ridiculous things around," she tweaked the side of his Mickey Mouse pants - but even they protected his final modesty. How he wished that they were still in America on their holiday and that they hadn't returned to this oppressed country.

But the last thing he wanted was for the policeman to start on him, or on his wife, so he meekly obeyed. He was a fairly well built and powerful man, normally able to look after himself, and his lovely wife, if the occasion arose. It made things worse for him, therefore, that he was now helpless to help either himself or her.

"Hands away from it and clasp them on your head." He felt so vulnerable and stupid, like a prisoner as he obeyed, moving his hands from where they had been protectively covering his crutch. "Does it make you feel angry, or excited that your wife is waiting naked upstairs for me, leaning against the door with legs and arms wide apart eh?" the woman's voice softened slightly, purring as she stood right up against him. She stopped as the bedroom floor creaked from above. "And you," she shouted upstairs to Linda," stop moving round just wait quietly for me to get to you. She's so impatient," the woman smiled, "can't wait to feel my fingers up her. Does she fuck well? She looks the sort that does," the woman answered her own rhetorical question as he silently ground his teeth with rage.

He jumped as her fingers traced little circles of desire around his taut nipples, his hands white with tension on his neck. He so didn't want this, especially with the young policeman trying not to smirk by the door. His erection began to unfold and stiffen against the cold starched fabric of the woman's uniform. He felt anything but desire for her, but her fingers teased and then, one cool brown hand encircled his stiffening member.

"Not showing off are we little English boy?" the bitch smiled coldly. "I cut off little pricks that offend me." He sweated freely as she smiled cruelly, giving his member a painful squeeze. "Now bend over, legs wide I need to give you a body search too."

"Ughh," he gasped as gloved hands pushed into his anus. He was acutely aware of the policeman in the room too and that his wife would be naked upstairs awaiting the same fate; and that there was nothing he could do about it.

Finally she got her camera from her case and assembling a collapsible tripod, took photos of his face and body from several angles. He was flushed and sweating, feeling thoroughly soiled by the time she had finished.

"OK, you can put your pants on - no more. I don't want to force the policeman to look at your disgusting prick any more than he has to, but a person without clothes is less likely to cause trouble - so leave the rest off and hands back on your head while I have a look at what your wife's got to offer me."