Jackie1111
Tribune
Oh please. He's one of my frequent customers!
On the other hand, I've lately been feeling like I could benefit from a good caning, so....
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Priya's Punishment
- Thread starter windar
- Start date
Oh please. He's one of my frequent customers!
On the other hand, I've lately been feeling like I could benefit from a good caning, so....
Jackie1111
Tribune
windar
Teller of Tales
Better report it on your taxes. Tax evasion = 24 strokes/100 hours of Seinfeld watching!
twonines
LIMERICUS
It would be "writhing" , wiggling is too sedate to describe what it would be doing !It's true. I do love wiggling my ass for an audience!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Despite Sanjay feigning repulsion towards the end of the last episode, I cannot see how his marriage with Priya can survive this. She must leave him and become the free spirit I sense she has always wished to really become ...
windar
Teller of Tales
One week later
Sanjay: Priya, why are you standing and eating breakfast? Come, sit down and join me.
Priya: Dumps pot of coffee on his head and stalks out of the room
As Barb likes to say, "Stop reading ahead!"
twonines
LIMERICUS
I don`t agree,if you have followed Priya`s development through the series, she has continually flirted with her sado-masochistic fantasies, albeit with members of her own sex,and since her marriage has hidden them from Sanjay and been sparing with her sexual favours.
Now, struck off the medical Register, a convicted criminal,having been publicly flogged and with little prospect of gainful employment ,she needs to mend her fences with Sanjay,who although he hasn`t covered himself in glory has proved faithful and is willing to provide for her.
Now they both understand each other,they are the perfect couple,with the opportunity to mutually indulge in Priya`s fantasies and to fulfill Sanjay`s needs.
windar
Teller of Tales
Priya opened her eyes when the lights came up. They were clouded with tears and her sweat-soaked hair hung in front of her face, so everything was blurry. She blinked a few times and managed to make out the scoreboard. “Moore-12; Raman-12”.
‘Halfway through,” she thought. The pain in her hindquarters was beyond belief, a burning all through her, like hellfire, already much worse than what she remembered from the eight she had taken in Trabbia. And she still had another dozen to take, strokes where the cane would be falling on inflamed and bruised tissue and skin that was already split and probably bleeding, judging by the trickles she could feel down her thighs.
Moreover, it wasn’t just her ass that hurt, her whole body ached. Her hands were sore from gripping the bar and pulling against the wrist restraints, her feet hurt from rubbing against the hard wood of the platform as she fought the ankle restraints and her back was sore from the bent over position.
Priya almost choked when she heard the PA announcement. Another medical exam from Alison Taylor? That wasn’t going to be fun. And the caners would be rested, so they would hit with full force for the next dozen. Perhaps worst of all, was the invitation to the concession stand. Suffering a horrible punishment was bad enough, but having it emphasized that this was nothing but an entertainment for the crowd, like a basketball game or a concert, somehow made it worse.
Priya glanced over at Barb. She was sorry that Barb had to suffer as well, especially since it had been to protest Priya’s sentence, but she had never asked her to get involved or even hinted at it. Besides, it was comforting to have her good friend and lover beside her in her time of agony, even if she couldn’t reach out and touch her, which she longed desperately to do.
Now Priya saw Dr. Taylor rise from her seat and clip a small wireless microphone to the lapel of her lab coat. “Oh, fuck!’ she thought. ‘Everything this bitch does is going to be broadcast to the whole place!’ Then she saw the cameraman come in behind Taylor. ‘And on video, too!’
The doctor knelt so her face was right in front of Barb’s face. Priya looked up at the big screen, which showed Barb’s face in larger than life size. Barb looked as awful as Priya imagined she herself looked, her mouth set in a rictus of pain, her cheeks and jaw covered in mucus.
Barb’s eyes were only half open. Certainly, Dr. Taylor’s face with its sadistic grin and the big screen displaying her agony for all to see were something no one would choose to look at. Taylor moved the wet hair that hung in front of Barb’s face out of the way. The gesture was almost gentle and comforting, but the words she spoke were quite the opposite. “Wakey, wakey, Moore! How are you enjoying your caning so far?”
Barb groaned loudly, a groan which was amplified by the PA system. Dr. Taylor stuck her stethoscope against Barb’s chest, taking care to pinch her breasts quite hard as she maneuvered the cold metal into position and listened carefully for a moment.
“It hurts, doesn’t it, bitch?” Barb groaned again. “Well, it damn well is supposed to-to teach you a lesson about obeying the law and not making an ass of yourself in Judge Powers’ courtroom. Most people would have learned the first time. But not you, you stupid cow!” Priya saw Barb’s eyes close again.
“Well, speaking of asses,” Dr. Taylor continued, “Let’s see how yours looks.” The doctor walked around behind Barb, trailed by the cameraman. Even before he zoomed in, Priya could see that the soft globes that she had admired and enjoyed fondling and kissing from their first time together in bed were streaked with livid welts. Blood was seeping from a few of the most abraded places, where bits of skin that the cane had sliced into hung loose.
There were audible gasps from the crowd at the close up sight of the state of Barb’s tight little ass. Dr. Alison Taylor whistled, “Whoowhee! That cane sure did tear up her butt flesh! Nice work, Mike! She won’t be sitting comfortably for a loooong time.” Priya guessed that Mike was the name of the other caner whom she hadn’t known. Sure enough, Mike rose and took a bow. The audience gave him a vigorous round of applause.
“Well, let’s see if we can’t clean things up a bit,” Dr. Taylor said. “No reason you good people should have to see a sight like that.” She reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a one liter plastic bottle. “A little rubbing alcohol should fix that,” she cackled, opening the bottle and pouring half of the liquid onto Barb’s poor battered cheeks.
It took a few seconds for the liquid to work its way into the sensitive inner layers of skin that had been exposed by the rattan slicing through the outer layer, but as soon as it did, Barb let out an unearthly howl, gyrating her ass as much as the waist belt allowed. “Well, that livened you up a bit, Moore,” Dr. Taylor said, laughing.
She dabbed at some of the most damaged spots with a piece of cotton gauze. “That’s good enough for a worthless piece of shit like you. Besides, the next twelve are only going to shred your butt even more.”
She moved behind Priya, followed by the cameraman. Looking at the screen, Priya could see that her behind was in similar shape to Barb’s, though the bruises were a little less prominent against her darker skin. “Goddamn, Raman, you look a sight, too!” Taylor exclaimed. “Serves you right for disgracing our profession, of course,” she announced as she unscrewed the bottle of alcohol and held it up.
The crowd began clapping rhythmically as Alison Taylor slowly tipped the bottle almost enough to send the liquid flowing onto Priya’s beleaguered ass flesh, before Dr. Taylor pulled it back.
A second time, the doctor brought the bottle almost to the tipping point as the clapping mounted, then tipped it back to upright. “Give it to her!” a man in the one of the upper sections shouted. Alison Taylor smiled, shrugged and dumped the contents onto Priya’s buttocks.
For the first second or two, the cool liquid actually brought a modicum of relief to poor Priya’s burning flesh. But then, the alcohol hit the sensitive inner layers of skin and Priya felt like someone had pressed a hot iron onto her buttock cheeks.
Her shriek, amplified through the PA system echoed around the rafters of the arena. Priya felt everything spinning around as the fire spread through her whole being, every nerve in her body sending its urgent distress signal to her brain.
Slowly, her shrieks and yelps waned to a low continuous moan. “Stop being a baby, Raman. This is for your own good. You used to be a doctor, so you know how important disinfection is,” Dr. Taylor told her as she dabbed alcohol into the deepest and most angry-looking weals. Priya had to admit that she did know that, though in this case, with her ass about to suffer further damage from the remaining twelve strokes, she had to believe that this interim procedure was being done mostly to entertain the crowd.
As the fire in Priya’s butt finally ebbed from intolerable back to merely excruciating, Dr. Taylor came around in front of her and stuck the stethoscope between her breasts. The doctor listened for a moment, then straightened up and announced, “Both you bitches are perfectly fine, strong as oxen and twice as dumb. Just some flesh wounds in the buttocks. You’re cleared for the remaining twelve lashes.” The crowd roared its approval of this medical diagnosis.
Priya looked over at Barb who was shaking her head, as if to say, “No, I’m not fine to take twelve more.” Priya thought of asking for a second opinion, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen and would only give them an excuse to add strokes to their punishment.
Now that their exam was finished, the camera shifted its focus to the other two stars of the show, the caners, George and Mike. The Chief of Corrections was interviewing them. “Does your job give you a sense of satisfaction?” he asked.
“Yessir,” Mike replied. “I feel like I’m protecting society and at the same time giving the offender a strong motivation to reform their behavior and become a law-abiding citizen.”
“So repeat offenders like Moore are the exception, rather than the rule.”
“Most definitely,” Mike replied.
George, feeling an implied slight of his professional capabilities, assured the Chief and the crowd that it wasn’t due to any laxness on his part during Barbara’s previous punishment session. “She was punished plenty well the last time, I can assure you. Our rate of recidivism is under 1%, as you know, but, every so often, you run into someone who is so hard-headed they just can’t help themselves.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll do your best on the next twelve to get the message through to her.”
“Oh, you bet we will,” Mike replied.
The Chief turned to George. “It must feel strange for you to be caning a former colleague, I should think.”
“It is. I liked Priya. Never had any problems with her. It’s hard to understand what got into her to make her do this, but that’s above my pay grade. We’re here to carry out the orders of the court, without any favoritism.”
“So they can both look forward to a very painful remainder of their punishment.”
“Oh, you can count on that, sir,” George replied. Mike nodded his head to indicate his concurrence.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” the Chief announced. “We’re almost ready to proceed. There may be time for one last visit to the concession stand and the facilities before we get the second half under way.”
‘Halfway through,” she thought. The pain in her hindquarters was beyond belief, a burning all through her, like hellfire, already much worse than what she remembered from the eight she had taken in Trabbia. And she still had another dozen to take, strokes where the cane would be falling on inflamed and bruised tissue and skin that was already split and probably bleeding, judging by the trickles she could feel down her thighs.
Moreover, it wasn’t just her ass that hurt, her whole body ached. Her hands were sore from gripping the bar and pulling against the wrist restraints, her feet hurt from rubbing against the hard wood of the platform as she fought the ankle restraints and her back was sore from the bent over position.
Priya almost choked when she heard the PA announcement. Another medical exam from Alison Taylor? That wasn’t going to be fun. And the caners would be rested, so they would hit with full force for the next dozen. Perhaps worst of all, was the invitation to the concession stand. Suffering a horrible punishment was bad enough, but having it emphasized that this was nothing but an entertainment for the crowd, like a basketball game or a concert, somehow made it worse.
Priya glanced over at Barb. She was sorry that Barb had to suffer as well, especially since it had been to protest Priya’s sentence, but she had never asked her to get involved or even hinted at it. Besides, it was comforting to have her good friend and lover beside her in her time of agony, even if she couldn’t reach out and touch her, which she longed desperately to do.
Now Priya saw Dr. Taylor rise from her seat and clip a small wireless microphone to the lapel of her lab coat. “Oh, fuck!’ she thought. ‘Everything this bitch does is going to be broadcast to the whole place!’ Then she saw the cameraman come in behind Taylor. ‘And on video, too!’
The doctor knelt so her face was right in front of Barb’s face. Priya looked up at the big screen, which showed Barb’s face in larger than life size. Barb looked as awful as Priya imagined she herself looked, her mouth set in a rictus of pain, her cheeks and jaw covered in mucus.
Barb’s eyes were only half open. Certainly, Dr. Taylor’s face with its sadistic grin and the big screen displaying her agony for all to see were something no one would choose to look at. Taylor moved the wet hair that hung in front of Barb’s face out of the way. The gesture was almost gentle and comforting, but the words she spoke were quite the opposite. “Wakey, wakey, Moore! How are you enjoying your caning so far?”
Barb groaned loudly, a groan which was amplified by the PA system. Dr. Taylor stuck her stethoscope against Barb’s chest, taking care to pinch her breasts quite hard as she maneuvered the cold metal into position and listened carefully for a moment.
“It hurts, doesn’t it, bitch?” Barb groaned again. “Well, it damn well is supposed to-to teach you a lesson about obeying the law and not making an ass of yourself in Judge Powers’ courtroom. Most people would have learned the first time. But not you, you stupid cow!” Priya saw Barb’s eyes close again.
“Well, speaking of asses,” Dr. Taylor continued, “Let’s see how yours looks.” The doctor walked around behind Barb, trailed by the cameraman. Even before he zoomed in, Priya could see that the soft globes that she had admired and enjoyed fondling and kissing from their first time together in bed were streaked with livid welts. Blood was seeping from a few of the most abraded places, where bits of skin that the cane had sliced into hung loose.
There were audible gasps from the crowd at the close up sight of the state of Barb’s tight little ass. Dr. Alison Taylor whistled, “Whoowhee! That cane sure did tear up her butt flesh! Nice work, Mike! She won’t be sitting comfortably for a loooong time.” Priya guessed that Mike was the name of the other caner whom she hadn’t known. Sure enough, Mike rose and took a bow. The audience gave him a vigorous round of applause.
“Well, let’s see if we can’t clean things up a bit,” Dr. Taylor said. “No reason you good people should have to see a sight like that.” She reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a one liter plastic bottle. “A little rubbing alcohol should fix that,” she cackled, opening the bottle and pouring half of the liquid onto Barb’s poor battered cheeks.
It took a few seconds for the liquid to work its way into the sensitive inner layers of skin that had been exposed by the rattan slicing through the outer layer, but as soon as it did, Barb let out an unearthly howl, gyrating her ass as much as the waist belt allowed. “Well, that livened you up a bit, Moore,” Dr. Taylor said, laughing.
She dabbed at some of the most damaged spots with a piece of cotton gauze. “That’s good enough for a worthless piece of shit like you. Besides, the next twelve are only going to shred your butt even more.”
She moved behind Priya, followed by the cameraman. Looking at the screen, Priya could see that her behind was in similar shape to Barb’s, though the bruises were a little less prominent against her darker skin. “Goddamn, Raman, you look a sight, too!” Taylor exclaimed. “Serves you right for disgracing our profession, of course,” she announced as she unscrewed the bottle of alcohol and held it up.
The crowd began clapping rhythmically as Alison Taylor slowly tipped the bottle almost enough to send the liquid flowing onto Priya’s beleaguered ass flesh, before Dr. Taylor pulled it back.
A second time, the doctor brought the bottle almost to the tipping point as the clapping mounted, then tipped it back to upright. “Give it to her!” a man in the one of the upper sections shouted. Alison Taylor smiled, shrugged and dumped the contents onto Priya’s buttocks.
For the first second or two, the cool liquid actually brought a modicum of relief to poor Priya’s burning flesh. But then, the alcohol hit the sensitive inner layers of skin and Priya felt like someone had pressed a hot iron onto her buttock cheeks.
Her shriek, amplified through the PA system echoed around the rafters of the arena. Priya felt everything spinning around as the fire spread through her whole being, every nerve in her body sending its urgent distress signal to her brain.
Slowly, her shrieks and yelps waned to a low continuous moan. “Stop being a baby, Raman. This is for your own good. You used to be a doctor, so you know how important disinfection is,” Dr. Taylor told her as she dabbed alcohol into the deepest and most angry-looking weals. Priya had to admit that she did know that, though in this case, with her ass about to suffer further damage from the remaining twelve strokes, she had to believe that this interim procedure was being done mostly to entertain the crowd.
As the fire in Priya’s butt finally ebbed from intolerable back to merely excruciating, Dr. Taylor came around in front of her and stuck the stethoscope between her breasts. The doctor listened for a moment, then straightened up and announced, “Both you bitches are perfectly fine, strong as oxen and twice as dumb. Just some flesh wounds in the buttocks. You’re cleared for the remaining twelve lashes.” The crowd roared its approval of this medical diagnosis.
Priya looked over at Barb who was shaking her head, as if to say, “No, I’m not fine to take twelve more.” Priya thought of asking for a second opinion, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen and would only give them an excuse to add strokes to their punishment.
Now that their exam was finished, the camera shifted its focus to the other two stars of the show, the caners, George and Mike. The Chief of Corrections was interviewing them. “Does your job give you a sense of satisfaction?” he asked.
“Yessir,” Mike replied. “I feel like I’m protecting society and at the same time giving the offender a strong motivation to reform their behavior and become a law-abiding citizen.”
“So repeat offenders like Moore are the exception, rather than the rule.”
“Most definitely,” Mike replied.
George, feeling an implied slight of his professional capabilities, assured the Chief and the crowd that it wasn’t due to any laxness on his part during Barbara’s previous punishment session. “She was punished plenty well the last time, I can assure you. Our rate of recidivism is under 1%, as you know, but, every so often, you run into someone who is so hard-headed they just can’t help themselves.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll do your best on the next twelve to get the message through to her.”
“Oh, you bet we will,” Mike replied.
The Chief turned to George. “It must feel strange for you to be caning a former colleague, I should think.”
“It is. I liked Priya. Never had any problems with her. It’s hard to understand what got into her to make her do this, but that’s above my pay grade. We’re here to carry out the orders of the court, without any favoritism.”
“So they can both look forward to a very painful remainder of their punishment.”
“Oh, you can count on that, sir,” George replied. Mike nodded his head to indicate his concurrence.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” the Chief announced. “We’re almost ready to proceed. There may be time for one last visit to the concession stand and the facilities before we get the second half under way.”
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Wow ... oh my goodness. Their anguish oozes from the episode. Excellent writing Windar! I must say again though that Priya for sure will not be the same person once this is over. Taking a punishment in some remote foreign country that she could more or less hide from her public persona is one thing. Being viciously beaten in front of erstwhile colleagues, so called 'friends' and family and a crowd of paying perverts is entirely different. In my mind the only way that Priya can ever rise above what is happening to her now and avoid becoming defined by it for the remainder of her life, is to leave Sanjay and seek a new life out on her own, going wherever the feeling takes her. If she stays with Snajay she will feel subjugated by this event for ever.
Priya's evolution from a naive 19 year old college student is such a wonderfully weaved story! Thanks Windar.
Priya's evolution from a naive 19 year old college student is such a wonderfully weaved story! Thanks Windar.
Dean Windar left the VIP seating area shortly after Dr. Allison Taylor had completed her medical examination of Barb and Priya and declared them fit for another dozen. He hadn’t wanted to stick around for the interviews with the two caners. George and Mike were not his kind of people, and he figured a visit to the men’s room and the concession stand to be a far better option than listening to those two show offs preen and brag at center court.
Much to his dismay, however, Judge Powers had decided to accompany him. Windar had tried to ditch the judge on the arena mezzanine area by weaving quickly and adroitly through and around the myriad groupings of fans bearing armloads of popcorn, nachos and soft drinks back to their seats. He figured that by doing so, he might just lose the corpulent, less mobile, judge ... and it seemed as though he had succeeded. But, alas, by the time Windar was zipping up in front of a urinal, the judge had pulled up to the one alongside.
“Hold up there, Windy! I want to have a word with you!” wheezed the nearly out of breath judge.
“Can it wait, Marty? I need a refill on my popcorn, and halftime will soon be over.”
“No, I know something is eating you, Windy. It’s pretty obvious ... and keen observer of human behavior that I am, I think I know exactly what it is.”
“Okay, Marty. I’m all ears. Tell me what it is.” replied Windar as they took they ambled up to the concession stand.
“It’s that Moore woman. You’re smitten with her! And let me tell you, Windy, it’s damn easy to see why. Just watching her out there all naked, squirming and jumping about on that rack, squealing and screaming her head off ... watching those close ups and slo-mo replays ... those bouncing ass cheeks, and her inviting little cunny and sweet and dainty, puckered asshole ... my Lord, Windy, it’s enough to make any man want to grab hold and fuck the living daylights out of her!”
“Well ...”
“Here let me get that,” continued the judge amiably, as he plunked down a twenty to pay for the $6.95 tub of popcorn that Windar had just ordered from the attractive-looking young Dorsbury coed working the concession counter. “Keep the change, honey!”
“Marty, you didn’t have to do that.”
“Sure I do. You don’t think I noticed that It was me who ate most of your popcorn earlier? I owe you this one. What are friends for?”
“Okay, thanks. We’d better get back to our seats now.”
“No, wait. Listen while we head back. I’ve got an idea I want to bounce off you.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, heat me out now. You like this little Moore bitch, right? Had your eye on her. The very sight of her gives you an instant hard on ... rock hard, as they say ... and you’ve been itching to stick your cock in her, feel her warmth, feel her clamp down on it, buck and gyrate ... hear her gasp and moan as you finish her off. Maybe, after awhile, you even get to start romancing her a little, start having a nice thing going with her? Well, Windy, I can see the possibilities and I believe that I just might be able to fix things up for you.”
How, Marty? Even if what you say about me is ... um ... partly true ... how? She’s a convict now, sentenced to public corporal punishment in this very arena and probably going to have to do some time afterwards. She’ll most certainly be terminated by the College ... her academic career ruined. She’ll likely never want to speak to me again, much less fall in love with me. How are you going to fix all that?”
“I’m a judge, remember? Let’s say I decide, after this is over, to review her case, citing my suspicion that some inconsistencies were never resolved. And after careful consideration, I find that a mistake was made. That it was the Raman woman who put Moore up to that little courtroom stunt, blackmailed her somehow into doing it. It’s not inconceivable. As a matter of fact, I’ve suspected it all along ... even put a couple of detectives on to it ... although they did come up dry ... but if it’s true, then Moore should rightly be let go after today’s caning ... given another chance ... sincere apologies and all ... but, on a probationary basis, of course ... and that you, Windy, would be assigned responsibility for taking charge of her rehabilitation. Hey, I’ll bet the College might even go for a liberal do-gooder scheme like that ... and keep her and you on.”
“Well, I don’t know ... “
“Tut, tut, my boy. Say no more. Just let old Marty pull the strings.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good, you think it over while she screams and flails her way through the coming dozen. By the way, be sure to take a gander under that frame. The way her ripe little dangling tits jiggle and bounce with each stroke is a heavenly sight to behold! Oh, and one more thing, Windy ...”
“What’s that?”
“Well, you see. I have to confess that I’m as taken with her as you. I don’t imagine, though, that she’d ever take much of a fancy to the likes of me. I lack your good looks. Windy. So, for me, the attraction is less romantic ... pure lust, as you might well imagine. But, if things go well with her for you under this arrangement, as I suspect they will, I ask but one simple favor in return ... let’s just call it a small gesture of gratitude on your part. I simply ask that you arrange ... talk her into ... say or do whatever it takes ... arrange a threesome ... just one night ... you, her and me ... you get my drift?”
“I don’t know, Marty.”
**********
Barb, who had been grimacing and wondering if and when the intense stinging sensation brought on by the rubbing alcohol Dr. Taylor had applied to her bruised and bleeding buttocks was ever going to subside, looked up long enough to catch sight, through teary eyes, of Dean Windar and the judge returning to their court-side seats. Despite her discomfort, she did wonder what it was that seemed to engage them in what appeared to be an intense, animated conversation, and undoubtedly one that concerned her, because they kept looking up at her as they talked.
Alongside her, poor Priya was sobbing softly to herself. She too was suffering the ill effects of Dr. Taylor’s liberal alcohol administrations.
And behind them, George and Mike were basking in the crowd’s adulation as they fielded questions from the Chief of Corrections about their handiwork. Barb wished she could somehow shut out what they were saying. She really didn’t want to hear a discussion of how they had ravaged her burning hind quarters, nor did she want to hear the crowd’s reactions.
Meanwhile, the Chief, after being solemnly assured by both men that Barb and Priya could both look forward to a very painful remainder of the punishment, ended the interview with the announcement, “Alright, ladies and gentlemen. We’re almost ready to proceed. There may be time for one last visit to the concession stand and the facilities before we get the second half under way.”
And at that moment, on cue, the Dorsbury College pep band, which occupied several rows of seating at one end of the arena, struck up a rousing rendition of the College fight song, just as they might have done had this been halftime at a Dervish home court basketball game. And while the band played, and the crowd got to their feet to stomp, clap and cheer, the Dorsbury all-girl spirit squad raced out in their brief costumes to perform a series of summersaults and leg-splits that took them from one end of the court to the other, and back again ... after which, they pranced about to the music with their pompoms ... much to the delight of the packed arena.
Barb recognized several of them ... as students who had attended her classes ... and couldn’t help but notice how they kept glancing curiously over their shoulders ... at her ... their former professor ... bent naked over a caning rack ... with close-ups of her red-streaked butt flashing on the overhead scoreboard screens.
For Barb, the knowing, smirking ... “would you believe it’s her?” ... expressions on their faces were almost as hurtful, in their own way, as one of Mike’s rattan strokes. Barb wondered if her humiliation could possibly get any worse?
Then it was over. As the lights dimmed, the spirit squad vacated the court, the band stopped playing, and the crowd settled expectantly into their seats. A hush came over the arena.
The Chief gave a nod, and George and Mike took up their stations, flexing their rippling muscles. Barb looked over at Priya, who nodded grimly, shifting position slightly as she braced herself for the horror to come.
Barb too, adjusted her position, stole a quick glance in the direction of Dean Windar, who was staring at her intently, closed her eyes and muttered to herself, “Oh Shit!”
Much to his dismay, however, Judge Powers had decided to accompany him. Windar had tried to ditch the judge on the arena mezzanine area by weaving quickly and adroitly through and around the myriad groupings of fans bearing armloads of popcorn, nachos and soft drinks back to their seats. He figured that by doing so, he might just lose the corpulent, less mobile, judge ... and it seemed as though he had succeeded. But, alas, by the time Windar was zipping up in front of a urinal, the judge had pulled up to the one alongside.
“Hold up there, Windy! I want to have a word with you!” wheezed the nearly out of breath judge.
“Can it wait, Marty? I need a refill on my popcorn, and halftime will soon be over.”
“No, I know something is eating you, Windy. It’s pretty obvious ... and keen observer of human behavior that I am, I think I know exactly what it is.”
“Okay, Marty. I’m all ears. Tell me what it is.” replied Windar as they took they ambled up to the concession stand.
“It’s that Moore woman. You’re smitten with her! And let me tell you, Windy, it’s damn easy to see why. Just watching her out there all naked, squirming and jumping about on that rack, squealing and screaming her head off ... watching those close ups and slo-mo replays ... those bouncing ass cheeks, and her inviting little cunny and sweet and dainty, puckered asshole ... my Lord, Windy, it’s enough to make any man want to grab hold and fuck the living daylights out of her!”
“Well ...”
“Here let me get that,” continued the judge amiably, as he plunked down a twenty to pay for the $6.95 tub of popcorn that Windar had just ordered from the attractive-looking young Dorsbury coed working the concession counter. “Keep the change, honey!”
“Marty, you didn’t have to do that.”
“Sure I do. You don’t think I noticed that It was me who ate most of your popcorn earlier? I owe you this one. What are friends for?”
“Okay, thanks. We’d better get back to our seats now.”
“No, wait. Listen while we head back. I’ve got an idea I want to bounce off you.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, heat me out now. You like this little Moore bitch, right? Had your eye on her. The very sight of her gives you an instant hard on ... rock hard, as they say ... and you’ve been itching to stick your cock in her, feel her warmth, feel her clamp down on it, buck and gyrate ... hear her gasp and moan as you finish her off. Maybe, after awhile, you even get to start romancing her a little, start having a nice thing going with her? Well, Windy, I can see the possibilities and I believe that I just might be able to fix things up for you.”
How, Marty? Even if what you say about me is ... um ... partly true ... how? She’s a convict now, sentenced to public corporal punishment in this very arena and probably going to have to do some time afterwards. She’ll most certainly be terminated by the College ... her academic career ruined. She’ll likely never want to speak to me again, much less fall in love with me. How are you going to fix all that?”
“I’m a judge, remember? Let’s say I decide, after this is over, to review her case, citing my suspicion that some inconsistencies were never resolved. And after careful consideration, I find that a mistake was made. That it was the Raman woman who put Moore up to that little courtroom stunt, blackmailed her somehow into doing it. It’s not inconceivable. As a matter of fact, I’ve suspected it all along ... even put a couple of detectives on to it ... although they did come up dry ... but if it’s true, then Moore should rightly be let go after today’s caning ... given another chance ... sincere apologies and all ... but, on a probationary basis, of course ... and that you, Windy, would be assigned responsibility for taking charge of her rehabilitation. Hey, I’ll bet the College might even go for a liberal do-gooder scheme like that ... and keep her and you on.”
“Well, I don’t know ... “
“Tut, tut, my boy. Say no more. Just let old Marty pull the strings.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good, you think it over while she screams and flails her way through the coming dozen. By the way, be sure to take a gander under that frame. The way her ripe little dangling tits jiggle and bounce with each stroke is a heavenly sight to behold! Oh, and one more thing, Windy ...”
“What’s that?”
“Well, you see. I have to confess that I’m as taken with her as you. I don’t imagine, though, that she’d ever take much of a fancy to the likes of me. I lack your good looks. Windy. So, for me, the attraction is less romantic ... pure lust, as you might well imagine. But, if things go well with her for you under this arrangement, as I suspect they will, I ask but one simple favor in return ... let’s just call it a small gesture of gratitude on your part. I simply ask that you arrange ... talk her into ... say or do whatever it takes ... arrange a threesome ... just one night ... you, her and me ... you get my drift?”
“I don’t know, Marty.”
**********
Barb, who had been grimacing and wondering if and when the intense stinging sensation brought on by the rubbing alcohol Dr. Taylor had applied to her bruised and bleeding buttocks was ever going to subside, looked up long enough to catch sight, through teary eyes, of Dean Windar and the judge returning to their court-side seats. Despite her discomfort, she did wonder what it was that seemed to engage them in what appeared to be an intense, animated conversation, and undoubtedly one that concerned her, because they kept looking up at her as they talked.
Alongside her, poor Priya was sobbing softly to herself. She too was suffering the ill effects of Dr. Taylor’s liberal alcohol administrations.
And behind them, George and Mike were basking in the crowd’s adulation as they fielded questions from the Chief of Corrections about their handiwork. Barb wished she could somehow shut out what they were saying. She really didn’t want to hear a discussion of how they had ravaged her burning hind quarters, nor did she want to hear the crowd’s reactions.
Meanwhile, the Chief, after being solemnly assured by both men that Barb and Priya could both look forward to a very painful remainder of the punishment, ended the interview with the announcement, “Alright, ladies and gentlemen. We’re almost ready to proceed. There may be time for one last visit to the concession stand and the facilities before we get the second half under way.”
And at that moment, on cue, the Dorsbury College pep band, which occupied several rows of seating at one end of the arena, struck up a rousing rendition of the College fight song, just as they might have done had this been halftime at a Dervish home court basketball game. And while the band played, and the crowd got to their feet to stomp, clap and cheer, the Dorsbury all-girl spirit squad raced out in their brief costumes to perform a series of summersaults and leg-splits that took them from one end of the court to the other, and back again ... after which, they pranced about to the music with their pompoms ... much to the delight of the packed arena.
Barb recognized several of them ... as students who had attended her classes ... and couldn’t help but notice how they kept glancing curiously over their shoulders ... at her ... their former professor ... bent naked over a caning rack ... with close-ups of her red-streaked butt flashing on the overhead scoreboard screens.
For Barb, the knowing, smirking ... “would you believe it’s her?” ... expressions on their faces were almost as hurtful, in their own way, as one of Mike’s rattan strokes. Barb wondered if her humiliation could possibly get any worse?
Then it was over. As the lights dimmed, the spirit squad vacated the court, the band stopped playing, and the crowd settled expectantly into their seats. A hush came over the arena.
The Chief gave a nod, and George and Mike took up their stations, flexing their rippling muscles. Barb looked over at Priya, who nodded grimly, shifting position slightly as she braced herself for the horror to come.
Barb too, adjusted her position, stole a quick glance in the direction of Dean Windar, who was staring at her intently, closed her eyes and muttered to herself, “Oh Shit!”
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windar
Teller of Tales
I dunno, Priya looks pretty good too...
Judge Powers may be a horse's ass, but Windar would never leave a $20 for a $6.95 tub of greasy popcorn.
Windar was thinking more along the lines of him and Barb and Priya for a threesome
You mean
...
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Just so. Knowing Windar's approach to money, he would leave $6.96! And expect a Thank You!
If Barbara knew they were on the spirit squad, she'd immediately give them an "F" In fact, several ex-students of hers have filed complaints for anti-cheerleading discrimination!
Migoz2
Senator
You have turned the dial on 'loathsome' all the way up to eleven with Judge Marty there, Barb. Very nicely done.
And if that isn't one of those hostages to fortune that seem to affect Barb quite often, I don't know what is!
Jackie1111
Tribune
Ah yes. I'm glad they recognized that a judicial flogging is another perfectly good excuse for bringing out a group of scantily clad lovely ladies to prance and dance around.
But Barb, I can't help thinking you may have misinterpreted some of their glances at you. I'm sure at least one or two of those girls were envying you and wishing they could be in your place. They'll be thinking about you when in bed tonight, gratifying themselves. That must give you some small sense of satisfaction, no?
Now, let's shut up and watch the girls....
Attachments
Jackie1111
Tribune
It is pretty much what I have fantasized about thousands of times by now, over so many years. And longed for. I wish so much that I could step into an alternate reality and experience what our poor beautiful gals are going through. Their suffering would become my suffering. Their humiliation, mine as well. Lots of eyes will ogle my naked flesh as it is severely beaten. Flesh on a body that totally rocks, by the way.
