Back in the mid-80s (LOL before some of you were born, dear readers), I went to a play in London’s West End with my then girlfriend. “Breaking the Code” starred Derek Jacobi, and told the story of World War 2 codebreaker Alan Turing – and his subsequent persecution for his homosexuality, his prosecution and tragic suicide. Aside from being perhaps the greatest piece of acting I’ve had the good fortune to witness, the evening changed my life.
I’d not long left a boys public school, where tolerance of diversity was non-existent and homophobic language sadly all-too-common. The play rescued me, I’m sure, from the narrow prejudiced world view that had dominated my upbringing and enabled me to understand, to embrace, to celebrate differences. The evening’s one of the more memorable ones in my life. And so a visit at the weekend to the rather chaotic, ramshackle museum at Bletchley Park, where Turing worked, was truly special; seeing his office – preserved as it was in the war – was really a very moving moment.
And then, of course, there were girls to spank. Yes, friends, even in a trip that resonated so very deeply on a personal level, I managed to spank girls around the site and (memorably) behind the bike shed, make them lift their skirts for a photo under a tree outside some of the wartime huts, and come up with numerous mental takes on how the ‘Bletchley girls’ would have been punished during the war.
In an era in which ‘careless talk cost lives’, young ladies overheard discussing anything of their work in the local village would, surely, have been punished most thoroughly. I pictured two such, taken before the site’s Commanding Officer. He’d listen carefully to what had happened, then lecture them so gravely on the importance of security and his disappointment in them that they’d be in tears even before he pronounced sentence: “Take them to the Military Police, and have them both birched.”
My Sunday finished in even better style, with a lovely scene with Eliane (who’d arranged the day out). Anne, a maid who’d been caught frolicking with one of the stable hands, was brought before the butler. The result? To her considerable embarrassment, she was stripped and made to explain what the boy had done to her, before being tied down and whipped most soundly. It was such great play – pushing her hard, and leaving her looking so beautiful with vivid marks across her backside, thighs and back. A perfect end to a pretty perfect day, really.
It was a fun scene indeed. Though poor Anne did suffer at the hands of the nasty butler, who seemed to be more annoyed that she’d been caught frollicking with someone as lowly as the stablehand. Or did I just mishear that frollicking with a senior footman wouldn’t have been so bad?!
Thank you for sharing
Although… I *think* that given most officers would have been upper class, if not aristocracy, that they would more likely have used a riding crop which they would habitually carry around with them
To my best knowledge, the girls who worked at Bletchley Park were Wrens. The Royal Navy had adequate means of dealing with incidents like this…
They would never have called in the Military Police. The two girls would have been sent ‘on a charge’ to the Chief PO, or the Sergeant in Arms.
“Caps Off! Stand to attention!”
After the offences had been read out, they would have been caned. Over the CPO’s desk, skirts down. (Sometimes panties as well – it depended on the CPO.) Between six and thirty strokes – at the CPO’s discretion. A standard school-type cane was used. (Apparently they always brought two canes, as one was quite often broken.)
They rarely offended a second time.
On a second note, the valve (tube – US) driven computer equipment underground at Bletchley Park got so hot that the girls who worked there on shift regularly stripped down to their bra’s and panties.
Uniform digression? Not so. It was the only way they could get volunteers to go underground.
Be aware folks – Hitler was defeated by girls in their underwear. Historical fact.
It’s nice to know that you can still go to Bletchley Park, even if it’s a bit run down. My, how times change. For the better, in many cases, but not fast enough for Turing. Perverting Bletchley Park is a bit of revenge for Turing, in its own way.
Now, if you wanted to punish girls there, you should have had them extract some square roots. In hex.