Amanda returns to Changi. This time she experiences an "insider's" perspective:
Seratus Dua Puluh Dua – Three Days 23.8 Hours
Reception Room A, Changi Prison, Monday, 12:09 PM
Commandant Mamat bin Osman stood with Chief Guard Awang and three other guards in the reception room, awaiting their new charge. The door opened, and two CNB agents, holding Amanda by the arms, dragged her with Sergeant Hoa right behind. The Sergeant approached Mamat. “Prisoner Amanda Virginia Jones, 19, delivered to your custody. These papers serve as her transmission. The court order sentencing her, the death warrant signed by the judge and the head of the Central Narcotics Bureau, and the supplement to the sentence from the judge urging special treatment for the prisoner.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” said Mamat, taking the papers and glancing through them. “I take custody from you.” He looked at Amanda. Her sweet, petite figure was enticingly displayed by the chain bondage.
“You have done a commendable job, Sergeant,” said bin Osman, “gift wrapping this tasty morsel so seductively. Please express my gratitude to Deputy Director Williams.”
“I shall, Commandant. Thank you.”
“Feel free to leave now or to stay awhile and watch her introduction to Changi.” The Commandant flashed a small, knowing smile. Hoa caught it and smiled in return. “We can stay for a bit. My men can always learn from your most professional methods.”
“Very good,” Mamat said. “please,” indicting some chairs, “have a seat.”
“Guards, bring our new visitor to the inspection area.” The guards grabbed Amanda's arms and guided her to the center of the room, where spotlights from all sides were focused.
Commandant bin Osman took his time examining the petite women before him, huddling, hooded, in the intense spotlights. Chained from head to foot, helpless and shivering with fear, she had just the kind of figure that attracted him.
“Remove her hood.” The guards yanked off the cover. After over thirty minutes in the pitch dark and soggy slime of the hood, Amanda squinted her eyes at the bright lights and gasped for fresh air.
“Welcome to Changi, again, Miss Amanda Jones. It has been ten days since we last met at the reception for Barbara Moore’s first caning. I was very charmed by you then. But so much has changed in ten days. Now you are my prisoner and are even more charming presented gift-wrapped in these chains.”
“Remove her chains, slowly, leave on her arm bondage.”
“Please, Mr. Commandant. Please let me…”
Mamay cut her off with a sharp slap across the face.
“I did not ask you to talk, bitch,” he said in his softest, calmest voice. “The first thing you need to lean is your status here in Changi. And that is…” He slapped her hard with his other hand. “…no status at all. You are lower than a piece of excrement on the sole of my boot. Until you execution,” he looked at his watch, “in less than four days from now, you are only something to obey and endure.”
The guards began to remove her chains methodically. It was very like a stripping. When they finished, she stood between the two men, with only handcuffs and the chain binding her forearms back. They replace the steel collar with a tight leather one and leash attached. With her arms pulled painfully back, the unfastened blouse gaped open, offering tantalizing glimpses of her small bare breasts and flat belly. The mini barely covered the territory between her tummy and her upper thighs.
Mamat gently put his fingers under her small chin and raised her head to face him. “Judge Kann asked that I supervise your stay here. As I said, you will be enjoying our hospitality for the next four days before your execution. In other words, for the rest of your life.”
The blow and the words caused Amanda to give a small sob.
“Now, it is time for your first punishment.”
“Punishment? What have I done?”
The Commandant slapped her even harder. “For one, you haven’t learned not to speak out.”
“I must tell you that Judge Kann told me he regretted not being able to proscribe corporal punishment. He asked me to administer some prison discipline. For your initiation into Changi Prison, I think ten cane strokes will do. Guards!”
They quickly dragged the helpless girl to a stainless steel frame shaped like two inverted “U”s.
The men strapped her wrists and ankles to adjustable restraints at the top and bottom corners of the frame and drew a belt tightly around her middle.
Imran pressed a remote, and the upper "U" soundlessly pivoted back, bending Amanda about 40 degrees at the waist. This position presented her bubble butt as a perfect target for the cane. The chief guard hiked her tiny skirt up to her waist.
“Very nice, Miss Jones. No panties to get in the way,” observed Mamat, savoring her bare ass and exposed cleft.
“Prisoner ready for punishment, Commandant.” Imran reported with a military salute.
“We shall start with five strokes with the number one cane. Just a light warm-up to introduce you to prison correction.”
“Please, please,” whispered Amanda.
Ignoring her, Commandant gestured to one of the guards. The man went and got a light cane from a stand in the corner. The others, especially the men from the CNB, looked on in fascination. They watched Amanda’s large, straining butt about to receive cane strokes. They were thankful that they had chosen not to leave. This young girl promised to be a highly erotic show.
“Mr. Tan,” said the Commandant, addressing the guard. “In accord with the instructions given me in writing,” he held up one of the papers he had been given, “by Justice Kann, apply five strokes with the #1 cane. Please make them count.”
Even as Jones’ entreaties rose to a fevered pitch, the guard took his place and measured the cane across the middle of her obscenely offered buttocks.
“One,” said the Commandant. A long backswing and he brought the cane to a loud smack in the middle of the cheeks, causing the delectable flesh to deform, rebound, and shake enticingly.
“Owww!’ cried the girl, experiencing her first taste of brutal prison discipline.
“Two.” A second stroke, high on the butt, just below the sacral dimples, drove Amanda’s hips forward against the rigid steel frame.
“Three.” The young flogger, not wanting to disappoint his superior, drove the cane forward from a low start with an upswing that went right into the crease between her cheeks and her soft thighs
“Arrgghhh!!! OH! God. It hurts so bad!”.
“Four.” Tan returned to the center and landed a blow that intersected the first. Jones cried and struggled to no avail. The Commandant waited a moment to observe the result. Where the two welts crossed, an angry red blister arose, just short of bleeding.
“Five.” Tan’s also angled his last shot. Where it crossed the earlier two, blisters again rose, and one leaked a bit of blood.
“Very nice, Mr. Tan, with only a #1,” Mamat said. We might make you a regular flogger soon.”
“Thank you, Sir. That would be a great honor.”