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M*A*S*H DIARY

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Windar was maneuvering his stethoscope between Barb’s breasts, taking great care to fondle the luscious tissue as much as he could get away with. “I don’t recall that grabbing a feel is part of the procedure, Doctor,” she protested.

. . . . .

Reluctantly, Barb spread her legs, so that the good doctor could insert two fingers into her pussy and feel around for as long as his very loose sense of medical ethics permitted. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t think you are pregnant. But you are awfully wet. You guys didn’t get into Tree’s Horny Powder did you?”

I'm sure army regs require a second opinion in matters like this. As camp commandant I take it upon myself to ensure that the regulations are adhered to in full. Now, where is my stethoscope?
And my speculum . . . . . . can't be too careful you know.


nice chapter Windar
 
‘Damn!’ he thought. ’The smell from the latrines is overpowering the “Nuits de Brooklyn” cologne he had dropped $ 1.25 on at Fratelli’s Drugs on Flatbush Avenue before shipping out.’

No wonder he was shocked at the cost of a night at the Dorchester. Goldman was born a cheapskate. ;)

“You know, that thespian stuff,” he joked. He thought she was acting a bit cheeky to a superior officer, the kind of thing that had landed her in this predicament in the first place, but he supposed she didn’t have much to lose at this point.

He never did well at spelling in grammer school either. ;);)

“Thespian?” Lieutenant Brave asked. “You mean lesbian, don’t you?”
“You really do have a lot of nerve, don’t you, Captain Goldman?” Barb replied.

“Growing up in Brooklyn, you’d better,” Goldman replied. “In Yiddish, it’s called ‘chutzpah’, defined as killing your parents and throwing yourself on the mercy of the Court because you’re an orphan. Maybe you ought to have tried that at the court martial, Lieutenant Brave?”

This guy would be a pariah if he lived in the Midwest ... :confused:

“Is there any purpose to this visit, Captain?

The only purpose he ever has on his mind ... He's hoping to copp a feel or two. :eek::eek:

“If I did, I would choke on the fumes from your cologne, Doctor. Besides, don’t you think you should put the other ends of the stethoscope in your ears?”

See what I mean ... :oops::facepalm:

Reluctantly, Barb spread her legs, so that the good doctor could insert two fingers into her pussy and feel around for as long as his very loose sense of medical ethics permitted. “

He flunked the medical ethics course in med school :p

“Yes, I just want to make it up to Barb for having failed in my defense of her,” Erin said.

“And I want to make it up to Erin for getting her into this mess in the first place,” Barb added.

Give us points for Minnesota nice .... :)

Windar felt, perhaps for the first time in this place, a sense of shame.

Whoa! Guiness Book of Records! Let's get that down for posterity. :popcorn:
 
I'm sure army regs require a second opinion in matters like this. As camp commandant I take it upon myself to ensure that the regulations are adhered to in full. Now, where is my stethoscope?
And my speculum . . . . . . can't be too careful you know.

One of these days I need to read the fine print in those army regs ... :confused:

nice chapter Windar

It was ... :devil:
 
Doctor. Besides, don’t you think you should put the other ends of the stethoscope in your ears?”
So far : "Trust me, I am a doctor!?" :doh::facepalm:
But you are awfully wet. You guys didn’t get into Tree’s Horny Powder did you?”
Incredible he even gets a correct diagnosis!:confused:
Now, where is my stethoscope?
And my speculum . . . . . . can't be too careful you know.
Careful, before this 'MASH' turns into 'Doctor in the House'!:p
 
Army regs-you probably know this better than I, Lieutenant Brave- require that before a prisoner can be flogged, a doctor must certify that they are fit to withstand the punishment ordered by the Court.”
I'm sure army regs require a second opinion in matters like this. As camp commandant I take it upon myself to ensure that the regulations are adhered to in full. Now, where is my stethoscope?
And my speculum . . . . . . can't be too careful you know.
You Docs don't get all the fun! As senior officer and JAG corps rep, I should certainly ensure the prisoners are fit enough to take it...I mean the punishment.

Nice Chapter Windy, even it you didn't include me!
 
Damn fine dinner for a front-line camp, and that Seagrams stuff went down better than expected.

Must have fallen asleep again, seem to remember a nursey helping me to bed, wonder if anything happened?

Crikey, it's flogging day! Have I missed it? "Nursey! Nursey! Help this old soldier! And then help me get dressed!"
 
Damn fine dinner for a front-line camp, and that Seagrams stuff went down better than expected.

Must have fallen asleep again, seem to remember a nursey helping me to bed, wonder if anything happened?

Crikey, it's flogging day! Have I missed it? "Nursey! Nursey! Help this old soldier! And then help me get dressed!"
Don't worry, OS, we shall take care of it that an old soldier will not miss anything of the flogging! We foresee a special place for you at the first row!:D

And yes, yes, we know you got a Victoria Cross, long ago! You told us the details many times already! Earned at Omdurman, wasn't it? Or was it during The Charge of The Light Brigade?;)
 
In my training days, we were given plenty of practice dancing to the whip, twice a week and double rations on public holidays -
Do you do better in surgery if I whip you when I ask for a scalpel? I can do that, sure. Anything for the war effort.
“Yeah, lesbian, whatever,” Goldman allowed, “You know, hot girl-on-girl action. I just assumed that with a real ordeal facing both of you tomorrow in the AM, you might both want a bit of comforting, if you get my drift.”
Well, it was the '50s, and a nice Jewish doctor from New York was hardly going to know what a lesbian was, although you miight have thought a thespian would have come his way occasionally.
“You know that Tree’s Horny Powder is just sugar, don’t you? A placebo.”
Doesn't matter anyway. Sex is more than half in the mind. :D
 
9 April 1951

Dear Diary,

I woke today before dawn. I tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t, knowing that my penal flogging out on the 4078th parade ground was to take place at daybreak.

You can well imagine the trepidation I was feeling. My drumhead court martial had resulted in me being sentenced ... unfairly I might add ... to no fewer than 96 lashes with a cat! My God! I wasn’t sure that anyone could possibly endure that many.

Even the doctors seemed a bit concerned when they visited me last night. Captain Jolly was thinking about the possible need for a casket and Captain Wragg alluded to the possibility that Colonel Phlebas might intervene before my whipping got too far out of hand. I could only hope.

ABCE61D7-1CC8-4D01-934E-ECD0621F3201.jpeg

As I write, Lieutenant Brave lies against me ... sleeping blissfully ... her head resting on my shoulder. Together we had quite a night, as evidenced by the lingering scents inside the tent of sexual arousal, alcohol, Joan’s Horney Potion, and Captain Goldman’s god-awful cologne ... not to mention the sheen of sweat on our naked bodies reflecting the flickering light of the overhead lantern..

Let it be understood, dear diary, that I shall be eternally grateful for the way that Erin steadfastly defended me against all odds, earning for herself, in the process, a nasty little string of contempt of court sentences, amounting collectively to 48 lashes. As promised, she had my back ... and never gave up ... and I feel sorry that she will have to pay for it with a terrible scourging of her own bare back.

Along with feeling sorry for myself and Erin, I began to blame myself for all that had happened. Let’s face it, diary .., I really fucked up this time!

Why? Well you know as well as I do. It’s because I can’t stand perceived injustices, and rather than pausing to consider the consequences, I always fly into action, impetuously shooting off my mouth with a barrage of complaints or indignantly uppity remarks.

In this case I went way over the top, thinking that I could teach this odd collection of misfits at the 4078th, who have the effrontery to pose as officers and doctors, a lesson they’d never forget, by writing to General Praetorius. After all, I had once allowed the General to deflower me in his suite back at the Mayflower Hotel in DC. Surely, he owed me one, right? Well, dear diary. It certainly didn’t turn out right!

At my side, Erin stirred just then and murmured something in her sleep that sounded like, “You Honor, I object.” I stroked her cheek and bussed her on her forehead. Poor thing. Tried so hard. Never gave up. And now ...

Then my mind shifted to Head Nurse Eulalia and the admonition she had given Erin and me about standing tall on the parade ground and taking our punishments dutifully and without complaint. I had to admire her for knowing her way around ‘this man’s army’. Indeed, she made it a ‘this woman’s army’. After all, being thoroughly humiliated, beaten and abused, and then asking for more, can be erotically satisfying ... provided one adopts the right mindset. One can even train oneself to absorb and enjoy such things. Perhaps I’ve just been going about things with the wrong attitude?

That thought and the tingle it stirred deep inside me was interrupted by the distant thunder of a new pre-dawn Chinese barrage starting up. I’d all but forgotten about those pesky characters during the night. Though, I guessed that what I was about to endure out at the whipping post had to be better than what might happen to me were I to fall into the hands of the Red Chinese. Eulalia was right! Go out there when the time comes, step up, take the lash, and do her proud.

But, what would it actually be like to be whipped? I had never experienced such a thing. Sure, the Captains had paddled my bare ass that night in ‘the Swamp’ when they got me so smashed I hardly knew what they were doing to me. and I’ve seen pictures and someone showed me a fake-looking grainy film one time. But all that was different. This was to be a case of serious corporal punishment. There would be pain, and lots of it. Ninety-six lashes in all ... with a cat ... all up and down my bare backside. How bad would it be? Would they draw blood? Would I scream? Would I cry?

And there would be shame! The whole fucking unit watching, and visitors too! Carnival atmosphere. Come one and all to see the spectacle of Lieutenant Moore’s naked dance of shame under the lash! Every dreadful moment recorded for the record, no doubt, by Corporal Rodent’s ever ready camera. Imagine the crowding at the camp bulletin board. Oh Shit!

Uh oh.

Sorry, dear diary. They’re coming for me and Lieutenant Brave now. I can hear the boots of the guard detail crossing the parade ground. Just a few more lines before I have to go.

The tent flap has sprung open. Sergeant Connoisseurs is in charge, accompanied by Father Paul, looking very solemn, and by Sister Messaline, who’s eyes are aglow with rapturous delight as she takes in Erin’s and my naked, sweat-sheened bodies.

“Get up! It’s time! On your feet. Macht Scnell!” screams Connoisseurs as he releases us from the cuffs and chains that tether us to the tent pole.

“I’ve one request, please,” I say softly as I struggle to my feet. “Please allow Lieutenant Brave the opportunity to go to the whipping post wearing her slip. My flogging ... my punishment for my crimes ... is, after all, the main event here. And I deserve to go naked. But Lieutenant Brave’s flogging is incidental and secondary to mine. We’re it not for me she would not be going to the whipping post at all. So. Please. Allow her at least some dignity, if you will.”

He seemed surprised, but then he clicked his heels and nodded.

I bent down, snatched up Erin’s slip from where it lay on the tent floor and handed it to her. She accepted it but hesitated to put it on.

Then Father Paul asked everyone to bow their heads while he intoned a few words of spiritual comfort.

6CA5F793-A1BA-4829-9E9B-550541A84E5A.jpeg

“Dear Lord, look down this morning upon Lieutenants Moore and Brave as they dutifully step up to their whipping posts and raise their arms above their heads to be tethered in place. Look down with everlasting grace upon their youthful straining bodies, stripped naked and bared to the morning sun and the horrible promise of the lash flailing against their pale unblemished flesh. Look down with pity on them as the twist and writhe, crying for mercy as stroke after stroke stirs their quivering asses and wraps around their ribs to bite at their bouncing tits. Look down upon them with rising ... uh ... excitement ... as ... oh dear! I fear I can’t go on!”

“It’s alright Father ... “ intervenes Sister Messaline as she rushes forward to mop his sweating brow and gently stroke the unmistakable bulge rising in the front of his trousers.

Outside, another rumble of distant artillery breaks the uncomfortable silence surrounding Messaline’s devoted attention to the good Father’s rising stress.

“Ahem. Achtung!” intercedes Sergeant Connoisseur, hastily. “Hands behind your backs now for cuffing. Sehr gut. Danke.”

An embarrassed Lieutenant Brave and I comply meekly, although Erin wriggled into her slip first.

Head Nurse Eulalia will be proud, I think to myself as the cuffs snap shut around my wrists. I’m going out there head held high.This is it!

“Alles ist fertig,” reports Sergeant Connoisseurs who has stepped over to the tent flap to peer out on the parade ground. “Sun is rising. Loxoru and Houser are waiting outside. To the fife and drum now. Line up! Lieutenant Moore first.

Ready! March!”
 
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9 April 1951

Dear Diary,

I woke today before dawn. I tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t, knowing that my penal flogging out on the 4078th parade ground was to take place at daybreak.

You can well imagine the trepidation I was feeling. My drumhead court martial had resulted in me being sentenced ... unfairly I might add ... to no fewer than 96 lashes with a cat! My God! I wasn’t sure that anyone could possibly endure that many.

Even the doctors seemed a bit concerned when they visited me last night. Captain Jolly was thinking about the possible need for a casket and Captain Wragg alluded to the possibility that Colonel Phlebas might intervene before my whipping got too far out of hand. I could only hope.

As I write, Lieutenant Brave lies against me ... sleeping blissfully ... her head resting on my shoulder. Together we had quite a night, as evidenced by the lingering scents inside the tent of sexual arousal, alcohol, Joan’s Horney Potion, and Captain Goldman’s god-awful cologne ... not to mention the sheen of sweat on our naked bodies reflecting the flickering light of the overhead lantern..

Let it be understood, dear diary, that I shall be eternally grateful for the way that Erin steadfastly defended me against all odds, earning for herself, in the process, a nasty little string of contempt of court sentences, amounting collectively to 48 lashes. As promised, she had my back ... and never gave up ... and I feel sorry that she will have to pay for it with a terrible scourging of her own bare back.

Along with feeling sorry for myself and Erin, I began to blame myself for all that had happened. Let’s face it, diary .., I really fucked up this time!

Why? Well you know as well as I do. It’s because I can’t stand perceived injustices, and rather than pausing to consider the consequences, I always fly into action, impetuously shooting off my mouth with a barrage of complaints or indignantly uppity remarks.

In this case I went way over the top, thinking that I could teach this odd collection of misfits at the 4078th, who have the effrontery to pose as officers and doctors, a lesson they’d never forget, by writing to General Praetorius. After all, I had once allowed the General to deflower me in his suite back at the Mayflower Hotel in DC. Surely, he owed me one, right? Well, dear diary. It certainly didn’t turn out right!

At my side, Erin stirred just then and murmured something in her sleep that sounded like, “You Honor, I object.” I stroked her cheek and bussed her on her forehead. Poor thing. Tried so hard. Never gave up. And now ...

Then my mind shifted to Head Nurse Eulalia and the admonition she had given Erin and me about standing tall on the parade ground and taking our punishments dutifully and without complaint. I had to admire her for knowing her way around ‘this man’s army’. Indeed, she made it a ‘this woman’s army’. After all, being thoroughly humiliated, beaten and abused, and then asking for more, can be erotically satisfying ... provided one adopts the right mindset. One can even train oneself to absorb and enjoy such things. Perhaps I’ve just been going about things with the wrong attitude?

That thought and the tingle it stirred deep inside me was interrupted by the distant thunder of a new pre-dawn Chinese barrage starting up. I’d all but forgotten about those pesky characters during the night. Though, I guessed that what I was about to endure out at the whipping post had to be better than what might happen to me were I to fall into the hands of the Red Chinese. Eulalia was right! Go out there when the time comes, step up, take the lash, and do her proud.

But, what would it actually be like to be whipped? I had never experienced such a thing. Sure, the Captains had paddled my bare ass that night in ‘the Swamp’ when they got me so smashed I hardly knew what they were doing to me. and I’ve seen pictures and someone showed me a fake-looking grainy film one time. But all that was different. This was to be a case of serious corporal punishment. There would be pain, and lots of it. Ninety-six lashes in all ... with a cat ... all up and down my bare backside. How bad would it be? Would they draw blood? Would I scream? Would I cry?

And there would be shame! The whole fucking unit watching, and visitors too! Carnival atmosphere. Come one and all to see the spectacle of Lieutenant Moore’s naked dance of shame under the lash! Every dreadful moment recorded for the record, no doubt, by Corporal Rodent’s ever ready camera. Imagine the crowding at the camp bulletin board. Oh Shit!

Uh oh.

Sorry, dear diary. They’re coming for me and Lieutenant Brave now. I can hear the boots of the guard detail crossing the parade ground. Just a few more lines before I have to go.

The tent flap has sprung open. Sergeant Connoisseurs is in charge, accompanied by Father Paul, looking very solemn, and by Sister Messaline, who’s eyes are aglow with rapturous delight as she takes in Erin’s and my naked, sweat-sheened bodies.

“Get up! It’s time! On your feet. Macht Scnell!” screams Connoisseurs as he releases us from the cuffs and chains that tether us to the tent pole.

“I’ve one request, please,” I say softly as I struggle to my feet. “Please allow Lieutenant Brave the opportunity to go to the whipping post wearing her slip. My flogging ... my punishment for my crimes ... is, after all, the main event here. And I deserve to go naked. But Lieutenant Brave’s flogging is incidental and secondary to mine. We’re it not for me she would not be going to the whipping post at all. So. Please. Allow her at least some dignity, if you will.”

He seemed surprised, but then he clicked his heels and nodded.

I bent down, snatched up Erin’s slip from where it lay on the tent floor and handed it to her. She accepted and wriggled into it.

Then Father Paul asked everyone to bow their heads while he intoned a few words of spiritual comfort.

“Dear Lord, look down this morning upon Lieutenants Moore and Brave as they dutifully step up to their whipping posts and raise their arms above their heads to be tethered in place. Look down with everlasting grace upon their youthful straining bodies, stripped naked and bared to the morning sun and the horrible promise of the lash flailing against their pale unblemished flesh. Look down with pity on them as the twist and writhe, crying for mercy as stroke after stroke stirs their quivering asses and wraps around their ribs to bite at their bouncing tits. Look down upon them with rising ... uh ... excitement ... as ... oh dear! I fear I can’t go on!”

“It’s alright Father ... “ intervenes Sister Messaline as she rushes forward to mop his sweating brow and gently stroke the unmistakable bulge rising in the front of his trousers.

Outside, another rumble of distant artillery breaks the uncomfortable silence surrounding Messaline’s devoted attention to the good Father’s rising stress.

“Ahem. Achtung!” intercedes Sergeant Connoisseur, hastily. “Hands behind your backs now for cuffing. Sehr gut. Danke.”

An embarrassed Lieutenant Brave and I comply meekly.

Head Nurse Eulalia will be proud, I think to myself as the cuffs snap shut around my wrists. I’m going out there head held high.This is it!

“Alles ist fertig,” reports Sergeant Connoisseurs who has stepped over to the tent flap to peer out on the parade ground. “Sun is rising. Loxoru and Houser are waiting outside. To the fife and drum now. Line up! Lieutenant Moore first. Ready! March!”
General Praetorius,

Looks like the Ranking officer is not going to be able to inspect the bitches lieutenants before the sentence is carried out. However, I will be in charge of the punishment and ensure it is rigorously applied!

Must say, Lt. Moore seems to be more thoughtful than I expected. Somewhat remorseful, thinking about how she brought all this on. I have to admit some grudging respect for the girl. Right attitude and all!

Still she has punishment coming.
 
and rather than pausing to consider the consequences, I always fly into action, impetuously shooting off my mouth with a barrage of complaints or indignantly uppity remarks.

Well, she does occasionally. Well. Often. OK, OK, I'll take 'always'.

That's why we love her! :)
 
“Dear Lord, look down this morning upon Lieutenants Moore and Brave as they dutifully step up to their whipping posts and raise their arms above their heads to be tethered in place. Look down with everlasting grace upon their youthful straining bodies, stripped naked and bared to the morning sun and the horrible promise of the lash flailing against their pale unblemished flesh. Look down with pity on them as the twist and writhe, crying for mercy as stroke after stroke stirs their quivering asses and wraps around their ribs to bite at their bouncing tits. Look down upon them with rising ... uh ... excitement ... as ... oh dear! I fear I can’t go on!”
And The Lord looked down, and saw it was good! Very good, actually! Exciting, even!;)
 
April 9, 1951 MASH 4078th, Wo-on-Krux, Korea
Report From: Brigadier General P. Praetorio, Judge Advocate General's Corps, United States Army
Re: The unusual occurrences surrounding the administration of court-ordered corporal punishment today

After a long and tiring trial yesterday, the officers and enlisted of MASH 4078 were given the rest of the afternoon and evening to rest. Despite this, there was a steady line of personnel, waiting to visit and comfort the convicted criminals. I think this is clear evidence of the essential goodness of these people and a total refutation of charges that they are unfair or vindictive.

Major Grave, late of the Coldstream Guards again proved invaluable when he located a nearby detachment of men from the Royal Navy. Pulling strings with old comrades, he was able to obtain the services of a bos’n and a drummer for the formal punishment. We were particularly fortunate to obtain a bos’n, Matty Jones, who, through his grandfather. was very familiar with naval floggings in the classic British Navy tradition. Therefore, he was given total charge of the procedure.

Before dawn this morning, he had a crew setting up two stout posts driven into the ground. Leather straps were affixed to the top of each. The entire parade ground faced the posts, providing maximum space for spectators. By ten minutes before dawn, the ground was full. Word had gotten around and there were many curious (and lustful) spectators from nearby units.

A small set of bleachers had been erected near the posts giving a special, close up view of the proceeding. (The bos’n had insisted in the closest part being no less than twelve feet – he said “to avoid splatter.”) In total contradiction to their usual sleep-in nature, the four captains were in the bleachers early, passing canteens of water(?):borra2: and bowls of popcorn:icon_popcorn:. In honor of the occasion, they had eschewed uniforms in favor of various comic outfits more suitable for a Halloween party. Jolly’s “grim reaper” outfit seemed particularly authentic. General Praetorius and Major Grave appeared in dress uniform and joined the other VIPs.

Sergeant Loxuru and Corporal Houser stood on either side of the posts. Loxuru was bare-chested and very muscular with a strange deathhead tattoo on his right bicep. Houser was also uncovered except a bra which strained to contain her ample bosom. She had impressive muscles for a woman.

As the sun appeared on the horizon, Bos’n Jones blew his pipes and a hush fell on the crowd. All eyes turned to the guard tent, whose flap was pulled aside. Father Paul and Sister Messaline emerged looking particularly saintly in their mission of spiritual comfort to the condemned. Then behind them, the two young women followed, arms bound behind them. Lieutenant Moore was naked. Lieutenant Brave, who faced the lesser of the charges, wore a brief flimsy slip.

7956B63F-9A5B-44CA-AC2E-30630FA1BC7D.jpeg

A different pipe from the bos’n directed the drummer to begin a slow “death march” to accompany the march to the whipping posts.

Despite being allowed to rest, the criminals had a haggard and haunted look. They didn’t struggle, but they seemed to walk in a trance and keep their thighs close together.

When they arrived at the posts, Colonel Phlebas, acting in his capacity as unit CO, and seconded by Head Nurse Eulalia, ordered them tied.

Lieutenant Brave first, whose slip was promptly pulled down below her waist so that it hung precariously on her hips ...

Madiosi-2019-130-MASH-1Barb smaller.jpg

followed by Lieutenant Moore, who couldn't help but turn away from the post to face her handlers and let loose a last moment torrent of complaints.

Madiosi-2019-130-MASH3.jpg

Soon both women were hanging by their wrists from the leather straps with only the balls of their feet on the ground.

General Praetorius, on behalf of the Judge Advocate General’s Corp, ordered bos’n Jones to start the punishment. Head Nurse, Eulalia, issued last minute instructions to the girls, ordering them to stand tall at their respective posts and to expose their naked backsides to the lash and hold their breath. Loxuru stepped up behind and to the right of Lt. Brave and Houser to the rear and left of Lt. Moore, holding wicked looking leather cats. They looked to Jones.

Jones gave a shrill pipe and the drummer began a quick drumroll. The floggers stood ready with their cats drawn back. Eulalia could be heard, over the drum, shouting encouragement, “Make Us Proud, Girls!” The drum stopped with a rimshot and the floggers drove their cats into the backs of their victims.

The crack of leather against flesh echoed around the parade ground. For a couple of heartbeats an eerie silence held; broken only by a grunt as the girls exhaled and braced for the next stroke.

“Eins!” counted Helmut Connoisseurs.

Every eye was fixed on the twitching naked torsos.

Jones blew his pipe and the drumroll began again. Erin tossed her redhair and casting a defiant look over her shoulder.
The drummer ended his roll with another shot.

Again, the two cats drove hard into naked flesh.

This time both girls kicked out their feet to hang from their wrists as the pain shot into their flesh. Angry red welts appeared in the mid-back from the first blow. Both resisted crying out, grunting instead.

“Zwei!”

The bos’m pipe blew and the drumroll began its cruel prelude. A drum shot and both cats drove hard into the stretched forms of the young women.

They screamed again as the red welts had now spread from their backs to their narrow waists.

“Drei!”

The pipe and the drum. Another blow was signaled. “Crack!” Both floggers returned to attack quivering butt-flesh and rip Lieutenant Brave's slip away from her body with their nine strands of knotted leather.

“Vier!”

The crowd watched in rapt silence as welts rose on the asses. A few traces of blood appeared.

The pipe and drum again. Lieutenant Moore broke her silence and began to howl in protest. Colonel Phlebas held up his hand and disgustedly strode over to her, and was about to order her to quiet down when the camp loudspeakers began to squawk ... "Chinese attack. The Commies have broken through. We've received urgent orders to bug out!"
 
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