Corporal History - Virgin to the Lash

[Aslin nee 8ball]

I am a history buff and of course as you can see by my participation in this site, have a keen interest in BDSM, especially imaging myself in perilous and painful situations. I would like to start a thread dedicated to the corporal punishment of women in settings throughout the sordid history of our world. I will start with a continuing story set in a very current time in our history. Please feel free to add your talents and comments:

Left in Kabul

We were only 5 miles from the army airfield when the crowd of people lining the highway became almost impassable. We were three of the last US workers to leave the embassy . Rachel Connors, Ashley Betts, and I ,Linda McGuire, we’re tasked with shredding the last of the documents and destroying all of the electronic data left on the computers. It had taken longer than anticipated and we were late leaving the compound. We knew the last aircraft was set to take off by 1200 Kabul time and it was already past noon but surely they would wait for us. It took another 20 minutes for our driver to push his way through the crowded streets.
The three of us girls had worked together at the embassy for over two years and had gotten quite close during that time. Rachel and Ashley had known each other for years and had been in a relationship long before they were stationed in Kabul. Forbidden to consort with the locals, and with all the US men at the embassy “taken”. I too found many a comforting night in the arms of my female co-workers. I had discovered my bisexuality by necessity I guess. We did our best to keep this to ourselves because it was definitely frowned on by our employers and Afghanistan law was brutal concerning this type of activity.
We forced our way through the entrance to the airfield and saw a throng of people running along side a large military plane as it taxied slowly toward the runway. Our Afghan driver kept out of the car waving his arms at the plane, trying to get the pilots attention to no avail. I watched in horror as the plane reached the runway, accelerated, and was gone. Our driver glanced back at us , shook his head, and began running in the opposite direction.
I never felt so helpless. Fear gripped me like a vice. They left us those rotten bastards had left us. There was no US presence left in Afghanistan, only three helpless young American women. Before we could even decide what to do, the car was surrounded by men wearing robes and carrying guns. We were ordered out of the car and our hands cuffed behind our backs. I shouted out “ I am Linda McGuire and we are Us embassy clerical staff with diplomatic immunity.” The largest man in the group smiled cruelly and said “ Linda McGuire , you and your American friends are under arrest. Diplomatic immunity just left with that airplane. You are all that’s left of America in Afghanistan ... you are alone, no one in America cares. They will send no one to rescue you....your country has deserted you...there will be consequences for the US invading our country and teaching our women how to be western women. There will be consequences . Are you ready to suffer for your country?
(To be continued)

 

[Aslin nee 8ball]

We were forced into the back of what used to be a US hummer and at gunpoint were driven back to Kabul . From the way that we were bounced about in the back of the vehicle and the time it took us to reach the city, it was evident that we had taken a different way back to the city. We were roughly unloaded at what used to be Kabul’s military police headquarters.
We were taken immediately to the office of the leader Major Bibi Azari and stood against the far wall of the office. Azeri was a large man wearing a dark robe, covered by a camouflage military jacket, and a dark turban. He slammed a thick file down onto the desktop to get our attention. He definitely got my attention. My knees felt weak and started to shake.
He started in almost perfect English. “ let us get the formalities out of the way ... you are Linda McGuire, Rachel Collins, and Ashley Betts; former clerical workers at the US embassy, is that correct.” Yes we all nodded in unison. He continued “ you have been spying for your government, a crime against our country, is that correct. We all shouted out no,no,no; Struggling against the guards that held us. He continued “you have been sent here to poison the minds of our women and girls. Teaching them western ways, like forgetting modesty and flaunting themselves. Teaching them to disrespect their men and their god. Am I correct. No, we all screamed out. “ It would be wise to confess to these crimes now ,Sharia law will be more lenient with you.” He demanded.
None of us could bring ourselves to confess to crimes we did not commit and we still believed that someone would come back to rescue us if we could bide our time . Hearing our denials the major smiled wickedly. You three have had your chance to confess willingly. It will be my pleasure to convince you to confess. We will begin at daybreak. Guards please take these three American bitches to separate cells in the basement and make them as uncomfortable as possible. It is best that they reflect on the error of their ways and consequences they face. We were hustled to the basement cells, embarrassed when we were forced to disrobe and with our naked bodies displayed and fondled . We cried out in agony as the night passed and our muscles cramped and spasmed in our tightly bound states. We hoped morning would come soon to spare us this agony but what new agonies would the morning bring to three American girls abandoned in this god forsaken land. ( to be continued )

 

[Aslin nee 8ball]

Unfortunately for us, the three former embassy clerks, morning did finally come but the reprieve we had hoped for would have to wait. Major Azari Stood before our cells at daybreak as he had promised. He told us that something more important had come up and that we would not be “playing” this morning as he had hoped. Noting the anguish on our faces as we tried to fight thru the pain from our bound bodies, he said “ stay as you are ladies. I will be back as soon as possible. I have scheduled a little entertainment for you. An example of afghani justice. I look so forward to my return and for each of us to get better acquainted.” With that he turned and marched from the room. Tears that had fearfully stopped flowing when the Major addressed us , began to flow again realizing our bound situation would not be relieved. We were still bound with our wrists tied together and pulled high behind our backs. We all faced forward toward the open common area in front of our cells where the Major had just addressed us.
Suddenly the door opened and three burly guards dragged in a fully dressed young woman,her hands tied in front and her head covered with a sack. One of the guards looked at us and said “ this woman has lost her humility..she flaunts herself, wears makeup and revealing clothing. She drinks and is seen in public at any hour. She is due to feel Afghani justice.” We were shocked to see the three guards tear every shred of clothing from the woman except for the sack covering her head. A chain was dropped from the ceiling, attached to the woman’s hands, and the chain was pulled taught, leaving the naked woman standing on tiptoes, her arms stretch toward the ceiling. Her breasts are small, her legs long, and the bush between them is dark but the hair is sparse.
The men each pick up a rod made of wood about 3 ft in length and about the width of a little finger. They space themselves out surrounding the hanging body. The guard who spoke, strikes first , sending a viscous blow across her ass cheeks . She shrieks and twists to her right giving the guard on that side a good shot at her breasts. He does not miss , scoring the right breast, the end of the rod impacting the nipple. She screams turning in the opposite direction as the third guard slashed her a viscous blow across her flailing thighs. The onslaught of blows continued for what seemed like an eternity. We could close our eyes and try not to watch but we couldn’t close our ears to the pleading for mercy and the hoarse screams of the bound young woman. When finally it was done, she hung moaning, her body covered with a mass of ugly welts . We looked on in shock as each of the men raped the women both from the front and from behind. The girl hung unconscious with her covered head bowed forward.
The first guard who had spoken initially chose to speak again. “See what you and your american influence has done to her. No one will take her for a wife. She has been spoiled. No one will give her work. Her life will be hard, she will probably end up in a brothel servicing many men.” With that he pulled the bag from her head and grabbing her long hair , lifted her head so that we could see her face. We all gasped at once. It was Mina, a teenager who had run errands for us at the embassy. A sweet girl who had aspirations to be a teacher of young children. What had they done to her. My god, What had WE done to her....We cried for Mina and for ourselves. ( to be continued)

 

[Aslin nee 8ball]

Left in Kabul. Part 4
We were left , still tied as we were, alone in our cells for what seemed like 24 hours before anyone came for us. They just wanted to let the terror grow . Having watched what they did to poor Mina, we knew that we could expect no less. Our cells were side by side but the concrete walls between cells, let us talk to each other but not be able to see each other. Black haired Rachel Collins , with her tall sleek body and full breasts was in the next cell. Red head Ashley Betts , small body with her freckled face perky breasts, was in the cell next to Rachel. We were lovers, the three of us, but now there were no hugs, gentle caresses or kisses. Instead we cried, we yelled, we rationalized, we cursed our country, we cried again.
In walked two soldiers followed closely by Major Azari. The Major stood , arms folded, directly outside my cell staring intently at my naked bound body. “ I have thought much about my American women spies. Who do I interrogate first? Who will be the first to confess? How much pain are you willing to endure for a country that deserted you? I choose you , Linda McGuire to be first” I shrieked as the two guards opened the door and mauled me with their hands as they released me from my bonds. I could hear my two friends sobbing for me as I was led from my cell in chains.
Brought to the “interrogation room”, I was chained to a metal chair that was bolted to the rooms concrete floor. Suddenly two very bright lights aimed at my face are turned on. The lights hurt my eyes as I squeeze my eyes shut. I am so close to the lights I can feel the heat they omit. I am left alone for several minutes and soon my body shimmers as I perspire under the hot lights, I hear Major Bibi Azari’s voice come from behind the lights. I can make out his large shape but cannot focus because of the lights. “ You are Linda McGuire, American spy am I correct.” My answer was no... soon someone behind me stepped forward and with both hands boxed my ears , slapped my ears against my head. I cried out in pain. I tried to raise my hands to rub my ears but my arms were chained to the arms of the chair. Both ears ached and I felt disoriented for a few seconds. He repeated the same question. I gave the same answer. My ears were attacked once again, only this time harder. I screamed from the pain. “ please stop. I am not a spy. We are not spies, only embassy workers. “ He asked me once again. I shook my head. My ears were boxed for the third time....the hardest so far. My ears rang loudly in my head.....I was very disoriented. I think my right eardrum burst. I could barely make out what the Major said next. Move her to the floor , it’s time for the falaka. I didn’t understanding what that meant but soon found myself lying on my back with my legs extended and my ankles tied to a bar situated about 3 feet in the air.
The Major picked up wooden cane and flexing it in his hands smiled and said
“ Maybe I can help you remember. Sometimes a little coaxing is all you need.”
He smiled again as he moved past my bare feet, turned so he could look directly into my eyes, and slowly drew his arm back...... to be continued.

 

[thehangingtree]

I've never seen the 'Tabool' before. Nice find...

 

[Aslin nee 8ball]

I've never seen the 'Tabool' before. Nice find...

Actually not familiar with that word. What does it mean? Where is its origin?

 

[thehangingtree]

Actually not familiar with that word. What does it mean? Where is its origin?

My typo, pic #1 is by 'Tibool'!!!

 

[montycrusto]

Actually not familiar with that word. What does it mean? Where is its origin?

Tibool’s work is available on

Chainganggirls

slaves, girls, women, galley, quarry, chained, prison, mines, chaingang, naked

www.chainganggirls.com

Nice story by the way!!’

 

[Hugin&Munin]

Tibool’s work is available on

Chainganggirls

slaves, girls, women, galley, quarry, chained, prison, mines, chaingang, naked

www.chainganggirls.com

Nice story by the way!!’

If you click on this link, you have to delete the little dot after: free.htm. , otherwise only an error message is displayed

 

[Aslin nee 8ball]

Tibool’s work is available on

Chainganggirls

slaves, girls, women, galley, quarry, chained, prison, mines, chaingang, naked

www.chainganggirls.com

Nice story by the way!!’

Thanks for the info. Thanks for the praise.

 

[Aslin nee 8ball]

Here is a mini story for thehangingtree and Montycrusto using more from Tibool….

I remain chained in my cell… petrified at what morning would bring . It started innocently enough……
I was visiting my friend in Nowheresville, Louisiana. The town was so small it only had 3 stop lights. No one ever stopped at them anyway, they were as much for show as anything.
My friend and I spent my first night bar hopping between 5 establishments. I should have been wary of anyplace with more bars than stoplights. I was standing at the bar while my friend Marylou was dancing with one of the locals. A good looking guy sidled up next to me at the bar, you know a guy who didn’t look like he just stepped off the farm. We started with a little small talk when all of a sudden this tall dark haired girl came rushing at me from behind. The impact crushed me against the bar and she grabbed a handful of my long brown hair and started pounding my head against the edge of the bar. “ you bitch leave my boyfriend alone” she yelled. All the locals circled around us cheering her on.I couldn’t get her off of me. My one free hand felt it’s way along the top of the bar until I was able to grasp something, a full beer bottle. I swung the bottle as hard as I could, made solid contact. I heard a sickening crunch as the bottle made contact with the girls left temple.
She immediately dropped, dead before she hit the floor. It didn’t take long for the sham of a trial to take place. My court appointed lawyer told me to keep my mouth shut but did nothing. Found Guilty of manslaughter, not first degree. At least they admitted I was attacked. I lost my temper and railed at the jury, railed at the police, and railed at the judge. They gagged me! The old judge from a nearby Parrish read me the riot act. He sentenced me to 25 years hard labor and citing statute 377982 of Louisiana law, an old and seldom used statute, a welcome of four dozen. I could hear the buzz in the courtroom.
I didn’t understand what that meant until I arrived at the Louisiana State Penitentiary for Women a day later. After being processed , the matron told me my whipping would be at 8am sharp the next morning. “ what are you talking about? Whipping … what whipping. I’ve done everything you asked since I got here.” I pleaded. Girl , the judge sentenced you to 48 strokes of the bull whip as a welcome. We don’t have welcomes often and usually not this many strokes.” I was in shock. “ 48 strokes from the bull whip will kill me “I cried.
“ No it won’t girl “she said. “You won’t be working for a spell, it’s gonna hurt like hell, but you’ll survive to do your 25 years ,don’t you fret. We best get you settled in your cell. You have a really big day ahead of you tomorrow.

 

[montycrusto]

Here is a mini story for thehangingtree and Montycrusto using more from Tibool….

I remain chained in my cell… petrified at what morning would bring . It started innocently enough……
I was visiting my friend in Nowheresville, Louisiana. The town was so small it only had 3 stop lights. No one ever stopped at them anyway, they were as much for show as anything.
My friend and I spent my first night bar hopping between 5 establishments. I should have been wary of anyplace with more bars than stoplights. I was standing at the bar while my friend Marylou was dancing with one of the locals. A good looking guy sidled up next to me at the bar, you know a guy who didn’t look like he just stepped off the farm. We started with a little small talk when all of a sudden this tall dark haired girl came rushing at me from behind. The impact crushed me against the bar and she grabbed a handful of my long brown hair and started pounding my head against the edge of the bar. “ you bitch leave my boyfriend alone” she yelled. All the locals circled around us cheering her on.I couldn’t get her off of me. My one free hand felt it’s way along the top of the bar until I was able to grasp something, a full beer bottle. I swung the bottle as hard as I could, made solid contact. I heard a sickening crunch as the bottle made contact with the girls left temple.
She immediately dropped, dead before she hit the floor. It didn’t take long for the sham of a trial to take place. My court appointed lawyer told me to keep my mouth shut but did nothing. Found Guilty of manslaughter, not first degree. At least they admitted I was attacked. I lost my temper and railed at the jury, railed at the police, and railed at the judge. They gagged me! The old judge from a nearby Parrish read me the riot act. He sentenced me to 25 years hard labor and citing statute 377982 of Louisiana law, an old and seldom used statute, a welcome of four dozen. I could hear the buzz in the courtroom.
I didn’t understand what that meant until I arrived at the Louisiana State Penitentiary for Women a day later. After being processed , the matron told me my whipping would be at 8am sharp the next morning. “ what are you talking about? Whipping … what whipping. I’ve done everything you asked since I got here.” I pleaded. Girl , the judge sentenced you to 48 strokes of the bull whip as a welcome. We don’t have welcomes often and usually not this many strokes.” I was in shock. “ 48 strokes from the bull whip will kill me “I cried.
“ No it won’t girl “she said. “You won’t be working for a spell, it’s gonna hurt like hell, but you’ll survive to do your 25 years ,don’t you fret. We best get you settled in your cell. You have a really big day ahead of you tomorrow.

Great little tale! And you used some of my all time favourite Tibools! Thank you Aslin!

 

[Aslin nee 8ball]

Great little tale! And you used some of my all time favourite Tibools! Thank you Aslin!

You are very welcome. Thanks for the inspiration of Tibool images.

 

[elephas]

Actually not familiar with that word. What does it mean? Where is its origin?

Apparently, the name Tibool was taken from Yury Olesha's fairy tale "Three Fat Men", where Tibool is the spontaneous leader of a popular uprising against the triumvirate of "Fat Men".

 

[Loinclothslave]

Great little vignette, @Aslin nee 8ball , thank you!
And thanks @montycrusto for the link, which I had lost track of, the mine is full of awe inspiring images and a functional storyline

 

[Whipper]

Here is a mini story for thehangingtree and Montycrusto using more from Tibool….

I remain chained in my cell… petrified at what morning would bring . It started innocently enough……
I was visiting my friend in Nowheresville, Louisiana. The town was so small it only had 3 stop lights. No one ever stopped at them anyway, they were as much for show as anything.
My friend and I spent my first night bar hopping between 5 establishments. I should have been wary of anyplace with more bars than stoplights. I was standing at the bar while my friend Marylou was dancing with one of the locals. A good looking guy sidled up next to me at the bar, you know a guy who didn’t look like he just stepped off the farm. We started with a little small talk when all of a sudden this tall dark haired girl came rushing at me from behind. The impact crushed me against the bar and she grabbed a handful of my long brown hair and started pounding my head against the edge of the bar. “ you bitch leave my boyfriend alone” she yelled. All the locals circled around us cheering her on.I couldn’t get her off of me. My one free hand felt it’s way along the top of the bar until I was able to grasp something, a full beer bottle. I swung the bottle as hard as I could, made solid contact. I heard a sickening crunch as the bottle made contact with the girls left temple.
She immediately dropped, dead before she hit the floor. It didn’t take long for the sham of a trial to take place. My court appointed lawyer told me to keep my mouth shut but did nothing. Found Guilty of manslaughter, not first degree. At least they admitted I was attacked. I lost my temper and railed at the jury, railed at the police, and railed at the judge. They gagged me! The old judge from a nearby Parrish read me the riot act. He sentenced me to 25 years hard labor and citing statute 377982 of Louisiana law, an old and seldom used statute, a welcome of four dozen. I could hear the buzz in the courtroom.
I didn’t understand what that meant until I arrived at the Louisiana State Penitentiary for Women a day later. After being processed , the matron told me my whipping would be at 8am sharp the next morning. “ what are you talking about? Whipping … what whipping. I’ve done everything you asked since I got here.” I pleaded. Girl , the judge sentenced you to 48 strokes of the bull whip as a welcome. We don’t have welcomes often and usually not this many strokes.” I was in shock. “ 48 strokes from the bull whip will kill me “I cried.
“ No it won’t girl “she said. “You won’t be working for a spell, it’s gonna hurt like hell, but you’ll survive to do your 25 years ,don’t you fret. We best get you settled in your cell. You have a really big day ahead of you tomorrow.

" it’s gonna hurt like hell, but you’ll survive"
This is what we like to read. Hope that the whipping will be full of details from all point of view, the executioner pleasure, the judge satisfaction, the attenders curiosity and obviosly the reactions of who will suffer the whip.

 

[KageKamen]

Just a tip... separate paragraphs look a lot more readable IMO!

 

[Jon Smithie]

Here is a mini story for thehangingtree and Montycrusto using more from Tibool….

I remain chained in my cell… petrified at what morning would bring . It started innocently enough……
I was visiting my friend in Nowheresville, Louisiana. The town was so small it only had 3 stop lights. No one ever stopped at them anyway, they were as much for show as anything.
My friend and I spent my first night bar hopping between 5 establishments. I should have been wary of anyplace with more bars than stoplights. I was standing at the bar while my friend Marylou was dancing with one of the locals. A good looking guy sidled up next to me at the bar, you know a guy who didn’t look like he just stepped off the farm. We started with a little small talk when all of a sudden this tall dark haired girl came rushing at me from behind. The impact crushed me against the bar and she grabbed a handful of my long brown hair and started pounding my head against the edge of the bar. “ you bitch leave my boyfriend alone” she yelled. All the locals circled around us cheering her on.I couldn’t get her off of me. My one free hand felt it’s way along the top of the bar until I was able to grasp something, a full beer bottle. I swung the bottle as hard as I could, made solid contact. I heard a sickening crunch as the bottle made contact with the girls left temple.
She immediately dropped, dead before she hit the floor. It didn’t take long for the sham of a trial to take place. My court appointed lawyer told me to keep my mouth shut but did nothing. Found Guilty of manslaughter, not first degree. At least they admitted I was attacked. I lost my temper and railed at the jury, railed at the police, and railed at the judge. They gagged me! The old judge from a nearby Parrish read me the riot act. He sentenced me to 25 years hard labor and citing statute 377982 of Louisiana law, an old and seldom used statute, a welcome of four dozen. I could hear the buzz in the courtroom.
I didn’t understand what that meant until I arrived at the Louisiana State Penitentiary for Women a day later. After being processed , the matron told me my whipping would be at 8am sharp the next morning. “ what are you talking about? Whipping … what whipping. I’ve done everything you asked since I got here.” I pleaded. Girl , the judge sentenced you to 48 strokes of the bull whip as a welcome. We don’t have welcomes often and usually not this many strokes.” I was in shock. “ 48 strokes from the bull whip will kill me “I cried.
“ No it won’t girl “she said. “You won’t be working for a spell, it’s gonna hurt like hell, but you’ll survive to do your 25 years ,don’t you fret. We best get you settled in your cell. You have a really big day ahead of you tomorrow.

Women get strung up by their thumbs far too rarely, IMHO. As I understand, it actually was a punishment used during the American Civil War against disobedient soldiers, and in turn of the century (19th Century) penitentiaries, but I'm sure it had application elswhere as well. Rarely against women though, more's the pity. These Tibool pics have been a favorite of mine as well.

 

[nsur1]

Women get strung up by their thumbs far too rarely, IMHO. As I understand, it actually was a punishment used during the American Civil War against disobedient soldiers, and in turn of the century (19th Century) penitentiaries, but I'm sure it had application elswhere as well. Rarely against women though, more's the pity. These Tibool pics have been a favorite of mine as well.

You're not reading the right books. I've just run a full text search for "by her thumbs" on a selection I have saved locally from the ASSTR pulp novel collection -- I'm getting at least 50 separate novels in which women are strung up by their thumbs for punishment, usually combined with a flogging. It seems to have been a particular favourite for F.E. Campbell who wrote 35 of these 50 novels. That is without even searching for variations on the exact phrase (e.g. "by the thumbs" or "from the thumbs").

 

[Jon Smithie]

You're not reading the right books. I've just run a full text search for "by her thumbs" on a selection I have saved locally from the ASSTR pulp novel collection -- I'm getting at least 50 separate novels in which women are strung up by their thumbs for punishment, usually combined with a flogging. It seems to have been a particular favourite for F.E. Campbell who wrote 35 of these 50 novels. That is without even searching for variations on the exact phrase (e.g. "by the thumbs" or "from the thumbs").

So little time, so much to learn. Thanks, nsur1!