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The other girls filed out. Olivia stood rigidly to attention, trying desperately not to snivel, but the tears now rolled freely down her cheeks. Even as the door closed behind the last of the girls, Senior Commander Buchanan began to speak once more. ‘Yes, I am astonished. In fact, amazed might be the more suitable word. And yet they do say it’s often the quiet ones. So, what is to be done with you?’
She stopped, her hand moving to the point of her chin as she regarded Olivia, who had given up trying not to cry. Her make-up now ran in black lines down her face, and her nose wrinkled as she struggled to avoid adding the shame of a snotty nose to her already agonised feelings. It was getting hard to breathe as well, her chest heaving and her uniform suddenly tight across her breasts, while for some hideously embarrassing reason her nipples had begun to grow stiff. The Hatchet sat back, making a steeple of her fingers as she carried on.
‘A large fine? Pointless. Your dear daddy would simply pay. Demotion? Why bother, when you’ll be demobbed in a few months anyway. A spell in the glasshouse? I dare say that would teach you a lesson, but still … perhaps we should just shave your head? I believe that’s traditional for little sluts who can’t keep their drawers up for five minutes at a time.’
The Hatchet smiled, as if she had made a joke. Olivia found her mouth twitching into a smile, a smile forced by the Senior Commander’s strength of will and her own inability to resist. Again there was a pause and Olivia found herself imagining how it would be to have her head shaved. It would be public, outdoors, with a ring of grinning squaddies and sneering girls watching her. They’d probably have a couple of beefy corporals to hold her in case she struggled. But she wouldn’t. She’d sit in meek acceptance of her fate, as the barber scraped away the pretty blonde curls she’d been so proud of all her life, leaving her as bald as an egg, her disgrace on show to the world. Senior Commander Buchanan was still smiling, but her hawk face now expressed more cruelty than amusement, as if she were able to read Olivia’s mind. She nodded.
‘Yes. That would be suitable, but perhaps there is another way, an unofficial way. Perhaps, Subaltern Fielding … Olivia, we should take into account the fact of your behaviour and punish you accordingly. Do you think it suitable for an officer in the Auxiliary Territorial Service to be consorting with other ranks in such a disgusting fashion?’
‘No, ma’am,’ Olivia managed, her voice a barely audible croak.
The Hatchet lifted her chin a trifle. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘No, ma’am,’ Olivia repeated as the hot tears once more began to course down her cheeks.
‘No,’ the Hatchet echoed. ‘It is not suitable behaviour for an officer, nor for a young lady, especially a young lady of such high birth. Indeed, I believe you are, technically, Lady Olivia Fielding?’
‘Yes, you are, aren’t you? You are the daughter of an earl. An earl who also happens to hold a post in His Majesty’s Government. And what do you think the Earl will say when he learns about your behaviour?’
Olivia had gone cold inside, and although her mouth opened, no words came out; the thought of her father being told about the incident was simply too much to bear. The Senior Commander’s smirk grew broader, and crueller.
‘I imagine he will be very cross indeed,’ she went on, ‘very, very cross. Perhaps, when you’re sent home in disgrace, he’ll put you across his knee and smack your naughty bottom?’
Olivia went scarlet; a blush so hot it covered not only her face but her neck and chest, making her now painfully stiff nipples prickle with sweat. The Hatchet saw and gave a brief, harsh chuckle, then continued.
‘Yes, I think he might very well do that, Olivia. He might very well put you across his knee and smack your naughty bottom. Spank you, Olivia, that’s what he’d do, like the little brat you are. In fact, given the way you have behaved, and that you have forfeited any right to be treated like a lady, I imagine that he might even roll up your skirt and slip before he spanked you. Maybe he’d even take down your drawers and spank your bare bottom. How would you like that, Olivia? How would you like your bare bottom spanked?’
Quite unable to speak, Olivia gave a frantic shake of her head. Every single word had been spoken slowly and with obvious relish, leaving no doubt at all of the Senior Commander’s intention, and the implication of her final question. It wasn’t her father’s knee Olivia would be going over, and it wasn’t her father who would be spanking her bare bottom. The Hatchet spoke again.
‘Yes, I think we understand each other. Put the blinds down, Olivia, and lock the door.’
Olivia obeyed, mechanically doing as she was told despite her raging emotions. With the door locked she clipped the heavy blackout blinds into place, save for the last two fastenings, leaving the room full of a dim golden light. As she worked, Senior Commander Buchanan had pushed back her chair, leaving her positioned well back from the desk, with her long, bony legs making a lap. Olivia swallowed hard as she came back to attention in front of the desk. Nothing more needed to be said. She was going to be spanked, and she was going to be spanked bare bottom; just as Susan Pirbright had been spanked, in that same office, and also bare bottom.
‘Very good,’ the Hatchet remarked. ‘What an obedient girl you are. I wonder, did your boyfriend simply tell you to pop your knickers off and spread your legs? No, at the very least he’d have had those fat titties out of your blouse. Yes, I imagine he would have done.’
Olivia gave a single, feeble nod.
‘I see. And did he have you strip, or was this sordid liaison outdoors? More a case of titties out, skirt up and knickers down, I imagine? Perhaps he even had you from behind? Yes, that’s it, isn’t it? You pressed up against a wall, I suppose, with your bottom stuck out and his hands all over those fat titties while he had you? You’re a disgrace to the uniform, Fielding. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?’