Kate Returns Home Ch. 18

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[This story includes bodily functions and significant discipline. If any of this offends you, please read no further. This chapter will be much more comprehensible if you read the previous chapters first. All characters are well over 18. My thanks to Leslie Jones for encouraging me to use her Women’s Republic setting and her characters.]

Kate knew when the Goose Cookers commercials in which she and Nicole had modeled panties and bras were being shown on TV. Her wife Glenda living in the Women’s Republic’s second city telephoned to tell her she’d seen Kate on TV in the ads.

“You looked fantastic, darling,” Glenda said generously. She did add that she felt a little abashed at watching her wife model panties in a TV commercial. “They really emphasized you showing your panties from under your uniform,” Glenda added. “I guess I have a way to go to get rid of the hang-ups I grew up with,” she told Kate.

Kate was thinking now about whether this modeling had been such a great idea. Would it just open her to criticism from within and without the Corrections Service? After all, she’d become a high-flying Major commanding the Service’s Disciplinary and Retraining Unit at the ripe old age now of 27. Might she now be the butt of criticism and jokes from her peers as well as those above her, much less all the noncoms and retrainees she dealt with every day?

Nicole, who had joined her in doing the commercials, was in a different position. She had been turning around her reputation in the Service as a bright, innovative, but unreliable noncom, as well as being known as the toughest barracks sergeant at the toughest retraining camp. Now she was a Sergeant First Class in Kate’s unit and had succeeded not only in getting Kate to forgive her for some terribly bad behavior but to tell her after the ad shoot that she was very fond of her.

Nickie, as her friends and most of the unit knew her, roomed with her old pal, SFC Cynthia, who was much less publicity-prone but a highly efficient and reliable noncom. Cyn had seen the commercial–the first one–and told Nickie she looked fabulous and that she felt this could only benefit Nicole.

But Nicole had been on the receiving end in the past of a lot of criticism and worse. How many noncoms, she thought, had been punished with a few hours in the dreaded toilet box, not once but twice? Nickie still had bad dreams about that experience, rather, those experiences. For two hours, she was flat on her back, naked, and blindfolded as cadre obeyed orders to use the two toilet seats above the box to do their business right on her face.

She did feel, though, that now she had an ace in the hole. Janet, the major domo of Goose Cookers, the woman-owned and woman-run firm that produced cleverly-designed products appealing to women in the Republic, especially distinct kinds of lingerie, had more or less told her that she’d love to have her on board at the company. And she had become friendly with their creative chief, Eleanor, who headed the company’s capital office here.

If worse came to worst, Nicole considered, that wouldn’t be that bad a place to land. She had flair, she knew that, and she had demonstrated it by doing those commercials with Kate. Heck, it was quite a step up to be picked to co-star with Major Kate, a true star of the Service. Nicole reflected that it hadn’t been that long ago when Kate had sentenced her to some hours in that horrible box.

Nicole chuckled, too, because Kate had imposed that punishment for Nicole’s breaking the rules about getting sexually involved with inmates of the male persuasion. She laughed to herself when she thought about what Kate could’ve gone after her for: fucking Kate’s husband at Hergolia Camp, where Nicole had been the barracks sergeant to whom Kate’s husband Harry had been assigned when Kate sent him for re-education just because he pissed her off. Oh yeah, she remembered, Harry had been having it off with Kate’s wife–Kate had one of each, as permitted now.

Reflecting on how lucky she had been, despite those two tours in the toilet, Nicole knew in her heart that if Kate had done that to her, she, Nicole, might have ripped her cunt open. Fucking someone’s husband! Un-fucking-believable, wasn’t it? Wow, did I cut all the breaks, didn’t I? That was Nicole’s thought pattern.

She didn’t have too much free time, however, to consider all these possibilities. 1SG Wendy had called her in and told her she wanted her to lecture to the retraining class on disciplining men sent to camps and women sent to centers. Nicole immediately realized that she had to think before she popped off in her lecture. Last time she had too quickly responded to a question she didn’t like by restricting the young woman retrainee who question her to only two visits to the toilet a day.

Later, Nicole let her off after the woman had spent one day in constant fear of wetting or soiling herself. She now knew that she had to think these things out rather than reacting with a snap imposition istanbul travesti of punishment. That last one could’ve come back to bite her if someone above her in the hierarchy of the Service had decided she had acted too hastily and without feeling.

Nicole had spoken with 1SG Wendy this time and asked her what approach she would recommend.

“Nicole,” Wendy told her, in her usual direct manner, “you understand how to take charge of a group like this. See how they respond as you lecture on discipline. I’m going to come in on the stage as you’re speaking to them. Someone is likely to ask a stupid question, one that insults either you or our unit and this program, or all of the above.

“At that point, I’m going to step in,” Wendy continued, “and I’m going to impose a tough punishment on them. I don’t want you to have to be the one to do that. I can always say that these retrainees had a bad attitude that required stern correction. And I can anticipate that no one–definitely not MAJ Kate nor CPT Elaine–will second-guess me. These classes need something like this to make them focus on why they’re here.”

“That sounds really supportive, First Sergeant,” Nicole responded. “I must admit that I’ve decided to be careful myself because people are very quick to jump all over me because of my tough reputation. Thanks for supporting me like you are. I hope my lecture meets your expectations.”

“Nicole,” Wendy answered, “you’re smart and I like it that you’re tough. So are MAJ Kate and CPT Elaine but they also are sometimes forced to be more concerned with appearances, which is the right approach at their level. I like it that you’re focused on getting what we’re here for accomplished. Good luck!”

She left and Nicole proceeded to the podium in the auditorium where the retraining class–about 25 women who had been sent here because they had in some way misbehaved to get themselves into trouble, and this would be their last chance to avoid being dismissed from the Service.

Nicole was in her full Sergeant First Class uniform when she stepped up to the podium and began her lecture. She told the group that she expected them to pay full attention because they should accept that they were here because someone in their own unit had decided that they needed this retraining.

“You’re not here to tell us what you need,” she said sternly. “You’re here to listen and learn. I’ll accept questions, yes, that are genuine. I’ll also add that I have plenty of experience of being disciplined myself when I got too big for my britches. I had to learn my lesson, too. It wasn’t enough that I had the reputation of being the toughest barracks sergeant at the toughest camp, which I did.”

She looked around. Every retrainee had her eyes focused on her.

“Discipline in the camps and centers is aimed at changing behaviors,” she began. “Every retrainee sent to a camp or center, male or female, has been referred by a responsible woman who was taking this step as a last resort in the face of truly bad behavior by a male or female member of her household. They don’t want to refer people because they will have to live with them when they return from the camp or center in a few days or weeks.

“You do need to establish that you are there to retrain or reeducate them from the very start of their time there,” Nicole continued. “You need to tell them that one way they will make it through the referral time they will have at the camp or center will depend on their behavior. You will tell them that the emphasis is on what it will take to make them understand that they must learn to do what their responsible woman tells them. They must learn to raise questions respectfully and accept the responsible woman’s decisions without rancor or sulking.

“Just as is the case with the cadre here,” she went on, “you have a cane and a whip on your belts. Anyone who gets out of line should know you will use one of those implements or both, if you feel it is needed. Don’t hesitate to order a retrainee to lift her skirt and drop her panties or for a man to pull down his trousers and undershorts. Right away, this will start getting them to realize with whom they are dealing. Then give them a swift, severe caning or whipping. Don’t hold back. A half-hearted punishment is worse than none at all.

“You will have some hard cases,” she said, smiling at the group. “I welcomed those. Some of you might feel put out by them but I saw them as a clear challenge. You mess with me came across from the way I carried myself and spoke to them. After they bared those bottoms, I’d have them bend over a chair or just bend and grasp their ankles. Then I’d give them six of the best or whip them similarly.

“This establishes your complete control. If someone resists in any way, you may be able to deal with it yourself but don’t hesitate to summon one or more fellow noncoms. You also have another tool: just as you are, these retrainees can be locked in their panties. You can travesti istanbul tell them that their toilet privileges have been suspended and will not be restored until you are convinced that they are ready to accept appropriate punishment for their bad behavior. The camps now have toilet boxes. Those who are not responsive to your commands should be told that they may very well find themselves in the toilet box soon.

“Always support your fellow noncoms,” she now emphasized. “They will back you up if you support them. Don’t ask them to explain what happened or what they did. They will tell you just what you need to know or may just say that a retrainee was resistant or had misbehaved. That should be enough. You’re not there to make fine judgments on degrees of poor behavior. You are there to figure out the best way to get the point across that they should be corrected. You want to return them to their responsible women with a positive attitude and acceptance of their duty to submit to her.”

One retrainee in the audience, PFC Katrina, a tall, confident-looking, dark-haired woman in her 20s, raised her hand to ask a question. Nicole saw her and called on her to speak.

“Sergeant,” she asked, “are you saying that we shouldn’t allow retrainees a chance to respond to our calling them out for misbehaving or resisting? What if they do have a real reason for how they behaved?”

1SG Wendy, who was standing aside Nicole, tapped her on the shoulder, “I’ll deal with this, Sergeant.”

“As the First Sergeant here,” Wendy said firmly, “I decide what is needed to get every retrainee properly retrained. They need to know that while we listen to them, they don’t get a chance to question our decisions on disciplining them unless we feel that an explanation might be allowed. You may find that severe, but I find that allowing anything approaching discussion, much less debate, weakens your authority. This is not a class at school. They’ve been sent to a camp or center, as have you, because they misbehaved enough for a responsible woman to make the heavy decision to refer them. It is not easy for them.”

PFC Katrina didn’t realize that Wendy had intended to make her response the final word on her question. She raised her hand, was recognized, and rejoined: “How do you know what they will say if you don’t let them say it?”

Wendy looked directly at her and said, “This isn’t some kind of class. You are dealing with misconduct. You may let them respond if you truly think that you need to hear them out, if you truly feel there might be some useful response from them. But never forget that they don’t have the right to question you in any way unless you allow them to do that.”

Katrina looked like she had heard something that was beyond her comprehension. She just said, “I know I need to accept what you say, First Sergeant. But it seems unfair to me. I’m just saying that because it does.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Wendy said quietly. “We need to give all of you an idea of what discipline can involve if you sense resistance or even questioning. All your panties you have on are locked and you need to request permission and be accompanied to use the toilet if permission is granted. Right now, I’m putting you all on total control. That means that no one will be given permission and no panties will be unlocked until I decide that this class has learned what we have been working here to convey to you.”

She stopped and heard deep breaths of fear and concern. No one, however, had the nerve to question her after that. Wendy had prepared for any reaction by the retrainee class, although she doubted it would occur. She told SFCs Denise, Linda, and Cynthia that she was suspending toilet use until further notice. She sent them to close and lock the latrine door. The three sergeants were to stand outside and tell any retrainees who approached that they had to wait until the First Sergeant lifted the suspension.

Nicole had been standing on the platform a few feet from 1SG Wendy who had been at the podium. The redhaired Nicole was amazed at what Wendy had done. She told herself she wouldn’t have had the nerve to close the latrine entirely and to keep the retrainees locked in their panties. She had enormous respect now for Wendy, having seen how severe she could be merely to get a lesson across.

As the retrainees filed out to return to their dorm but anxious about not being able to use the toilets, Nicole came over to the First Sergeant smiling.

“I imagine you approve of the step I just took,” Wendy said bluntly.

“Not for me to approve or disapprove of your actions, First Sergeant,” Nicole replied. “But I do feel you’ve done something that should imprint on them what discipline is all about.”

“Yes,” Wendy said. “Granted, I have more apparent authority because of my position, but I always must think about whether our Major and our Captain might countermand me. I don’t think they will.”

“I took a lot of grief for limiting that istanbul travestileri retrainee to two bathroom breaks a day,” Nicole observed.

“Yes, you did,” Wendy answered her, “and I’m also aiming to show you how that kind of step should be taken. You left yourself open because you didn’t apprise me or the other sergeants of what you planned. I can get away with more because of my position, but I think all of you like what I did.”

“I certainly do, First Sergeant,” Nicole responded. “And thank you, truly, for showing me the kind of analysis that goes into this kind of decision. But let me ask you: how do you think they will react when a retrainee loses control in her panties or several do?”

“I think they will all be fired up and ready to complain,” Wendy said. “But I’ve gauged how I feel reactions will run and I think I’ll get backed up. Kate and Elaine don’t want to undermine my authority. Also, I think Denise, Linda, and Cynthia will present a united front when they approach the latrine desk. Lastly, the ones who lose control will be embarrassed. They have to deal with that awful feeling when you feel the pee or shit filling your panty crotch. That takes some of the fire out of them.

A few retrainees were already feeling desperate. They gathered by the latrine desk and started telling the three sergeants that they thought it was cruel for them to be forced to lose control.”

“The First Sergeant is trying to get something across to all of you,” SFC Linda said, “and some of you may have wet panties as a result. Remember that not handling situations well is what got you sent here.”

One of the retrainees joined the group and whispered to one of the desperate ones that she should be prepared to endure a little embarrassment to learn from it. “At some point,” she advised her friend, “they’ll let you in and unlock you, so you’ll take your panties down and either finish your peeing or your bowel movement or change your tampon and may have to clean out your panties or ask for clean ones, which I suspect they will give you readily. Don’t lose track of what the point of this all is.”

Denise listened to the conversation, even the whispering, and called the desperate woman over.

“She’s right,” Denise told her. “Just go along and maybe you’ll wet or soil yourself. It’s not the end of the world and I can’t imagine any of your fellow classmates will get on you. 1SG Wendy will end this after she feels you have all learned from it.”

The woman who was becoming more desperate, PFC Caroline, let out a little cry and said, “Oh God, I just peed myself and now my poop is sliding out into my panties. This is not fun.”

“Keep cool,” SFC Cynthia advised her. She was thinking that if her friend Nickie were there, she would unlock the woman’s soiled panties and show them to everyone.

This was turning out to be tough duty for SFOs Linda, Denise, and Cynthia. More of the retrainees were holding their crotches but knew they would have to pee their panties, and some would defecate in them as well. When the inevitable began, the wailing picked up steam.

Denise called Linda aside, leaving Cynthia to hold the tide of women.

“This is cruel, true,” she said very quietly to her friend, “but I think 1SG Wendy has realized that this is how we get through to these retrainees. They sometimes act like their time here will be a walk in the park.

“I’d hate to go through this,” Linda responded, “but maybe that’s just the point.”

“Everyone who has soiled their panties both ways–peeing and pooping,” Cynthia announced. “Line up over here.” She pointed to a queue already forming next to the latrine desk. About a half dozen retrainees shamefacedly joined the line.

Cynthia quickly conferred with Denise and Linda. Denise reached 1SG Wendy on her cellphone. She explained the situation and said they wanted to let those who had peed and shat into the latrines, where they would supervise their cleaning.

“You can go ahead with that, Sergeant,” Wendy replied on the phone. “I want you to keep a record of everyone who is allowed in and helped to clean or change. If anyone gets in who didn’t do both functions, make them pull up their panties and get out. I will see to them.”

“Thank you, Top,” Denise said to Wendy, and they hung up.

Cynthia let the first six in who had soiled and wet their panties. She and Linda unlocked them as they sat on the toilets. Denise stayed at the desk as some more women joined the queue.

Linda watched as the women pulled down their panties. She told them they had to be checked out before they could resume peeing or shitting. She quickly saw that the first two had messed their pants both ways. She told them to go ahead and use the latrine and then told them to take some of the cloths she handed out to wipe out their panties.

Cynthia checked out the next two and let them proceed to finish their toilet use. Then she too helped them clean their panties. Finally, Linda checked out the last two with comparable results. She was pleased that no one had tried to fool them.

They issued fresh panties to each woman, watched as they put them on, locked them in, and then had the retrainees flip their soiled panties and cleaning cloths in the hopper.

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