Like allways - all pics are great but a few are awesome. Great work jjack!
Thanks so much Jackie! Glad you enjoyed it!I remembered today that I had never gotten around to the final stage of Mina's punishment. I loved imagining myself bent over the bar with that god-awful ginger root shoved deep into my bottom hole, made all the worse by my struggling in response to the harsh whipping of my ass cheeks.
Well done Jon!!!
Wow! You made a promise and you have kept it, thus officially disqualifying you from ever running for political office. At more than 3 years, this may be the longest running story on CF. I am greatly looking forward to reading it. Of course, at my advanced age, I probably should go back to the beginning to refresh my memory first. Not that I mind doing that at all...I've come back to my thread and I'm getting ready to post another chapter of my story "Mina Berkeley's Voyage,"
That would be fantastic!!!I guess I could use photo manipulations of Nina Dobrev as Priya to make it more or less relevant.
Thanks Jackie. I do try to be mindful of your earlier request not to forget the perspective of the sufferer.Glad you returned to this, Jon. More fuel for my fantasies. Yes, my fantasies include lying on a cot in an exhausted state, feeling the pain of welts left by the whip upon my body. My mind haunted by the salient memory of the public punishment I suffered only a short time before.
I loved how it ends with Flaywell just sitting there admiring Mina's beauty. Hers is a damaged beauty, but a beauty to be relished nonetheless. So sweet.
Sorry that I'm coming to this gem late. I love the way you have different characters circling around Mina - some out to use and hurt her; some out to help and protect her; and some who might go either way.After well over a year, my interest in Mina has reawakened, or I should say, has been reawakened. Thanks to all who have commented in the past. And in particular, to an especially enthusiastic reader. Here goes:
At the first signs of unrest, Smythie had called for his marines to surround the platform. When Mina was released from the post, she was placed on a stretcher. She was to be loaded onto the cart that she had been tied behind for her whipping, but the mob had surrounded it, and would not permit its movement. The bailiffs called out to the crowd to disperse, and threatened violence if they did not. The threats only made the crowd more angry and vociferous. The bailiffs were shouted down.
Smythie had put down mutinies before, and knew how to handle an angry crowd. This one was still disorganized. There was no sense of cohesion among them, or common purpose beyond expressing their outrage on Mina’s behalf.
He pushed his way through the mob, and stepped up onto the bed of the cart. He held his hands up for silence and began speaking in forceful but reasonable tones. He appealed to their loyalty to the crown, and assured the crowd that Mina was to receive proper medical care and be allowed to recover, and that their continued protest was only obstructing and delaying this. He turned in the cart repeating this message several times, and incredibly, those not bent on trouble for the sheer hell of it began to listen, and calling for others to calm themselves.
He told them that she would be taken to the jail until a more suitable place could be found for her continued recovery. He personally guaranteed them, as a man of honor and a King’s officer, that she would be well looked after. He would see to it personally.
The crowd, though still clearly disgruntled, quieted somewhat. Smythie waved to Ebo and the Warden to have Mina taken from the platform and loaded into the cart. The doctor got in the cart as well. The marines formed up around it and the warden and Ebo followed the marines.
As he walked along, the warden looked forward to having Mina under his control. He anticipated making her recovery as eventful as he could. He would teach the young minx a thing or two more. She would find he was not finished with her yet.
The crowd followed as well, airing their dissatisfaction in shouting and jeering. Many of them were not just idlers and troublemakers, who for the most part had enjoyed the show, but were genuinely upset and angered by the severe and unjust punishment the young woman had been subjected to, and had grievances of their own. But they knew that if they committed overt acts of violence they would be shot down, or have their heads cracked.
The procession arrived safely at Government House. Mina was carried through the courtroom, down a staircase and deposited, unresponsive and unresisting, on a bed frame topped with a thin, badly stained straw mattress in one of the cells in the cellar below the court.
The Judge met them there. He had wisely left the square immediately after the branding, at the first outcry from the crowd.
“I should have them all shot or whipped, the miserable rabble rousers,” the Judge complained, indicating the angry voices barely audible from outside.
The doctor attended Mina while the Judge, Smythie, Flaywell, and the Warden conferred in the hall just outside the cramped confines of the cell.
“Commodore,” the Judge said, “I have something for you.” He withdrew a rolled sheet of parchment from his coat pocket.
“Here is the bill of indenture for the convict, Mina Berkeley. Since you were so concerned as to her disposition, I have already prepared it for you. Henceforward she is your servant, Commodore, to put to whatever legal labor you see fit.”
The judge could not help but smirk. “Keeping always in mind the rules and regulations pertaining to what you may and may not do. For instance, sexual congress with an indentured servant is strictly against the law.”
The judge looked into the cell at Mina, then bestowed on Smythie a superior smile. “But I hardly need remind a man of your sterling qualities of that.”
The judge handed Smythie the document, and said, “Warden, please note. Commodore Smythie is now to be responsible for the cost of her jailing, and her future maintenance while she is in your custody.”
“Your Honor,” Smythie said, “I intend to give over the indenture to my man Flaywell here. Would you be so good as to indicate that on the document you have so thoughtfully prepared? I will of course still cover whatever costs he may incur in her ongoing care.”
The judge looked resentfully at Smythie, but shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose I should put the indenture up for auction, as you will not possess it. However, as a favor to you, bring it to me in my chambers, and I will change the name. Now, Commodore, if you would be so good, have your marines break up that annoying mob. Give them orders to shoot, if need be.”
With that, the judge left them to return to his chambers, where he would sip whiskey and wait out the crowd.
Smythie stared after the miserable old man. Then he indicated to Flaywell to enter the cell with him. He asked the doctor to step outside with the warden for a moment.
“As I told the judge, Mr. Flaywell,” Smythie said. “She is yours. I give over her indenture to you. Consider this a small reward for staying on here. I shall be relying on you to look after my interests in Cape Coast. I shall leave you with enough monies to cover the cost of her recovery, as well as your own maintenance and salary here while I am away. I will be meeting with the Governor and the judge before I sail. You will join me. I want them to understand that you are to have full discretion to act on my behalf. They have already demonstrated a willingness to subvert me. They are scoundrels, sir, and will take advantage if you do not watch them closely. You know all my business with them. If you see an opportunity to turn the tables, or take advantage on my behalf, by all means, do it.”
Flaywell turned his eyes away from Mina, and nodded his head to Smythie, “I understand, Commodore,” he said. “You are most generous, sir. I shall endeavor to justify your trust.”
To men of ordinary tastes there would have been little to be grateful for in the wreck of a human being before them. Mina seemed to be slowly returning to consciousness, occasionally moaning and tossing in her obvious pain and discomfort. A coarse jail shift had been laid over her to cover her, but her restless movements had dislodged it, revealing the bruises, welts, cuts and abrasions of her recent ordeal.
To those who had found her a troublesome young woman and wished her ill, as Smythie had, the picture before him should have been fully satisfying.
But it was not. For Smythie had also found the woman intensely desirable. Until now. Now he was was angry and resentful that Judge Higgens had superseded what by all rights should have been his, Smythie’s, privilege to impose discipline and punishment on the meddlesome young woman, and to do with her according to his will. He had been cheated, and this shell of a beautiful young woman was now nothing more than a reminder of that. Fulfilling Madame Louisa’s prediction that he would lose his interest when Mina had been scuffed up a bit, she was in fact no longer of any carnal interest to him.
As he looked down on her, she reminded him of a wreck of a previously sleek and lovely sloop that had foundered upon a reef, battered by the winds and tides, her hull marred and torn, dismasted, lines trailing helplessly in the water.
It was most disappointing.
He thought she might be of some minimal use chopping sugar cane on his plantation in the West Indies, but, he supposed, if Flaywell could salvage her, she might be of greater worth to him. And judging by the intensity of the man’s gaze, the gleam in his eye, his supposition was accurate.
For in the man’s ordinarily flat and lifeless eyes, Smythie thought he saw the stirrings of a bit of hidden passion. Smythie could hardly credit it, for Flaywell was the most coldly efficient man he’d ever met, and yet for all of that, he reminded himself, Flaywell was still a man.
Smythie called for the warden and the doctor to enter.
“I want you to know, Doctor,” he said, “that Mr. Flaywell will determine Miss Berkeley’s treatment while here. I will expect both of you gentlemen to respect his wishes.”
The Warden nodded respectfully enough and thought, the little slut spit in my face, you hoity toity toff. She is my property while she’s here.
As consciousness returned to her, Mina heard the voice as an indistinct buzz, but it quickly resolved into a voice she recognized. She tried to listen as it spoke, despite her dizziness, confusion, and distraction. Her pain was unrelenting. She felt her body was burning, as though her skin was formed of live coals. She gasped as she tried to turn herself, to rearrange herself into some position that would give some ease from the awful, incessant torment.
Looking about her, she knew she was in a small cell, with the beastly men who had done these terrible things to her. As she became aware of her nakedness, despite her pain, she pulled the shift over her, and huddled in a fetal ball.
“A just God will requite you with what you have done to me,” she croaked. Her throat was painfully dry and her mouth and jaw ached.
Smythie kneeled at her cot.
“Ah! Welcome back, Miss Berkeley,” the Commodore said. “A just God, is it? Well, my lady, a just God would not have given you into my hands in the first place. A just God would not have cheated me of you. There’s a just God for you!”
He patted her on the cheek, then stood, and turned back to the other men. “Mr. Flaywell, please instruct these gentlemen concerning your wishes about Miss Berkeley’s care and treatment. Then wait for me in the Judge's chambers I'm going to deal with those do-gooders outside.”
As Smythie stepped outside Government House, the angry shouts and jeers of the crowd increased. They were now facing off with the detachment of marines and a squad of hastily assembled deputies.
“Release the girl,” one cried. “She’s a brave lass, and didn’t deserve what she got.”
“I had no say in the young lady’s sentence or punishment," Smythie responded. I too believe it to be unjust and unjustly severe. I am well acquainted with the young woman, having sailed with her, and I know her to be a brave and upstanding young lady. I give you my word that I will take the steps necessary to release her from her indenture, no matter the financial cost to me. My duty now calls me to New South Wales, but when I return here, I will give her free passage to England. I am leaving my best man with her to supervise her care and recovery. Allow me to act in her best interests. For now, she must stay in the jail. We will do all that is possible for her. If you have further concerns, address them to my man Justinian Flaywell. He is a good man who will know well what is best. Now, will you act as loyal subjects and disperse, or will you resort to violence, and force these marines to respond in kind?”
There was some confused grumbling, mixed with a few tentative cheers of appreciation.
“All well and good for the young lady, Commodore,” a man shouted from the rapidly dissolving crowd. “We’ve lodged protests. My good wife was pilloried, whipped and jouged for no good reason. We’ve all suffered under this administration. Those of us who are honest and loyal subjects, at least. We will have answers, sir!”
“I am sorry for the sufferings of your wife, and I’m sure you will have satisfaction, sir. But you must have patience.” Smythie responded. And as the last of the crowd dispersed, he grumbled under his breath, “And in the meantime, be so good as to go fuck yourselves.”
While Smythie was dealing with the crowd, Flaywell had the physician finish dressing and bandaging the deeper whip cuts across Mina’s back. The doctor also applied a liniment to the brands on Mina’s chest and the welling pits in her buttocks where the bull’s pizzle had struck her repeatedly.
“We must observe her carefully over the next few days.” The doctor told Flaywell. “As I tried to tell the Warden, the wounds could easily mortify. It is imperative that she be bled as soon as possible.”
The Warden scoffed, having noticed the loose and slipshod way the doctor had applied his dressings with his trembling hands, and the foul and dingy liniment the old reprobate had so painstakingly smeared over her buttocks and breasts. He could only imagine the mess this old quack would make of a bleeding. The Warden felt he had given the prisoner the full measure of her authorized punishment, but after all, he still had plans for her. She was still quite the little bit, despite being the worse for wear.
“This old fool is far more like to kill her than anything I’ve done.” the Warden said.
“I am obliged to you, Doctor,” Flaywell said, in a tone that gave no hint that he actually was. He too had noticed the man’s trembling hands and clumsy, lecherous manner. “But I believe you have done enough for now. I’m sure we have all seen many suffer worse punishments than this, as I am told her sister did, and I do not think she is in any immediate danger.
The doctor nodded. “Aye, Sir,”
“And you, Warden, while Miss Berkeley is here, you will not mishandle her, or, how shall we put it, cause damage to my property. I will require the keys to her cell and free passage into and out of the jail.”
“Aye, sir,” the Warden replied.
“I’m property now, am I?” Mina said in a hoarse and halting voice.
“Yes, Miss Berkeley,” Flaywell responded, “You are my property. You will do as I say. And for now, I say you will rest and recover. Or do you wish to lodge yet another protest?”
Mina closed her eyes. Her pain was nearly unbearable. “How can I rest?” she gasped. “I am in such pain.”
“Do you have Laudanum, Doctor?” Flaywell asked.
“I do, sir, but typically we don’t administer it to prisoners.”
“Give her a dose. Then give me the bottle. I will administer it to her in future. Then we shall allow her to rest,” Flaywell said.
Mina tried to resist the laudanum, for she had seen her own sister’s addiction to it, but weak as she was, the doctor easily instilled a dose in her mouth. She gagged at the bitterness of it, and then eased back down on the bed, trying to rest on her left side, for that was the only part of her relatively undamaged by whips or branding irons.
Amazingly, blessedly, blissfully, she felt herself drifting into sleep.