Chapter 7: Helping Himself

It was just two days later when David was arriving back at work after lunch when he noticed that there was a police car from the local force parked at the main gate. Mostly out of curiosity, he went into the gatehouse and just as he did so Amanda arrived from within the site and asked him, “Who notified you?”

“Nobody notified me of anything,” he replied, “I just saw that the local police were here as I arrived, and as a director of this company I wondered if it was anything I ought to know about.”

The local Police Sergeant then said, “Nothing to do with the company, sir, and nothing that need concern you. It is a courtesy call to notify Mrs. James here that her daughter has a problem.” Clearly the Sergeant did not want to say any more to avoid embarrassing Amanda.

“He knows the history, Gordon, no secrets here. What has she done this time?”

“It’s Best’s again, and they are very angry about it. Do you want to collect her?”

Amanda looked absolutely livid, “What are the choices?”

Well we could give her police bail for the second time in a week for a similar offence, though that is unusual. We could take her to a magistrate to ask for bail but someone would have to pay, probably a couple of hundred pounds. If she turns up in court when the case comes up it will be repaid of course. I suppose we could oppose bail and try to get her remanded in youth custody if nobody will put the money up.”

“Yes please, you oppose bail,” Amanda said, “You keep her where she can’t run away. I’m not forfeiting bail money, and I haven’t got any to spare anyway.”

David wisely did not suggest paying it, not in public anyway. He said, “All sorted then, Sergeant. It does not seem to be anything Stapleford Secure Systems need to concern ourselves with, so I’ll leave you to sort it out with Mrs. James,” and he went on to his own office, leaving the Sergeant trying to persuade Amanda to change her mind.

Late in the afternoon as he was about to leave to go home Amanda rang him and said, “Thank you for not dropping me in it with the civvy police. I really am at my wits end about that girl. I just don’t know what to do with her. Can I talk about it with you at home, your home, or mine as you please?”

“When?”

“I finish at six tonight and I could come over to your house if you want?” she offered.

More flesh flute would be nice, but I’ve no idea what to do about the brat.

When Amanda arrived at David’s house he started by explaining to her that he really had had no more ideas abut how to discipline the girl. “If we try to spank her harder one of three things will happen. She will enjoy it; she will be marked permanently, which would take some explaining; or she will complain to the authorities. I don’t want any of these and I doubt that you do.”

“Oh. I had hoped that you could really hurt her without letting it show. Perhaps by using a whip, or spanking her in a different part of her body, or twisting her arms and keeping then there until it hurts,” and once again David was amazed by the mother’s attitude to her daughter.

“The only thing I can think of is using a riding crop on the soles of her feet, but all the information I have seen emphasises that it is easy to go too far and the victim may lose the ability to walk, possibly even permanently.”

“At least if she couldn’t walk she couldn’t go shoplifting,” said Amanda bitterly, “but I take your point.”

“Glass of wine?” he asked, “and we can try to think of something else.”

Over a couple of glasses of wine the discussion ranged over various punishments, most of which David counselled against. Finally he agreed to try caning her feet with a riding crop and Amanda was ready and willing to offer him any and every sexual favour to thank him in advance.

“Wait until we have punished her,” he said, “and then we will make her suck me off, and promise her more of the same if she disobeys you again.”