Epilog: 6 Months Later
The heat and humidity hit Priya Raman hard as she exited the air-conditioned terminal of Pranda International Airport to get the airport bus to take her to her hotel in downtown Pranda, the capital of Trabbia. As Vice President of Medical Affairs for Trabco Pharmaceuticals, she had been working hard for the past 6 months to get clinical sites on board to test Dr. Fong’s skin-healing cream. She had several burn centers ready to test it on burn patients and her old Department of Corrections lined up to test it on offenders who had been caned. Once the toxicology studies were done, and the preliminary results looked excellent, the studies would begin. Several investment banks were jockeying to handle the IPO, assuming the initial results were promising. At the prices they were considering offering the shares, Priya’s options would be worth somewhere near $10 million.
Her conversation with Sanjay had gone better than she could have hoped. She had explained her strange fixation on watching girls being punished and being punished herself. Instead of rejecting her as sick, he told her he loved her even more for sharing that and began researching the subject on-line. They had even played some spanking games. Of course, Sanjay wasn’t willing to hit Priya anywhere near as hard as Trabbian floggers did, but she couldn’t possibly expect him to. It was nice that he was willing to try, though. She had enlisted his company to set up the Trabco US web site and to put in place the secure system to manage the clinical trials, which he had, of course, done superbly.
Priya’s reverie was interrupted by her arrival at the hotel. After check-in, Priya booked some time in the spa to relax and get the kinks out from the long flight and prepare for her meetings tomorrow with Fong and the rest of the company staff next day.
The meetings went well; everyone was pleased with the progress on the trials. Priya particularly enjoyed meeting the British horticulturalist they had hired to supervise the planting of the critical herbs and bushes. When he suggested that Priya accompany him the next day to Mongha to look at the set-up of the plantations and make sure they would meet FDA regulations, she jumped at the chance.
Entering the prison complex where she had suffered so much pain and degradation gave Priya a shiver of fear. It also made her very wet, something she had prepared for by sticking a menstrual pad in her panties even though it wasn’t her period. There were the crews of women, Trabbian and foreign, clearing jungle under the blazing sun, while others were hoeing and planting the seedlings that would grow into the sources for the miracle cream.
But her old crewmates, Eulalia, Dorothy and Barbara were not among them. Priya had not forgotten them and their unjust imprisonment. As a condition of taking the job, she had demanded that they be freed. When that had turned out to be impossible, due to their court-ordered sentences, a compromise had been arranged. While they would remain in the prison camp to complete their sentences, they would no longer have to slave in the fields and be whipped for missing quota. Rather, they would be group leaders, supervising teams of masochistic foreign women who were actually paying to come here and be slaves and suffer floggings and other horrible punishments for missing quotas. Noba liked this because instead of hiring more guards to supervise the additional prisoners, she was getting these services for free. And, unlike too many of the local guards, Eula, Doro and Barb wouldn’t give the prisoners a lesser quota in exchange for blow jobs.
Priya got out of the car and hugged Barb, Dorothy and Eulalia, each in turn. “It’s so good to see you again,” she said.
“Thank you for helping us,” Barb said.
“I couldn’t forget my sisters in suffering,” Priya replied. “Can we have a tour and see how the planting is going?”
“Of course,” Eulalia replied. “Follow me.”
It was clear as they walked around the fields that the operation was running smoothly. Every prisoner and foreign visitor had her patch to clear and was laboring diligently, though two of them looked to be making sub-par progress. When the horticulturalist asked about them, Dorothy replied, “Don’t worry, those useless sluts are new and don’t know what they are doing. Of course, they will be flogged before dinner. Will you guys stick around to see it?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” the horticulturist answered.
“Nor would I,” Priya added. “But first, we have to meet with Warden Noba. We will see you at the evening assembly, I guess.”
When they were ushered into Noba’s office, Priya felt a shiver of fear and arousal. This was where she had suffered shocks to her most sensitive places, agony so severe that she had been willing to sign her freedom away to make them stop. Yet, Noba shook hands as though they were ordinary colleagues. They spent a couple of hours discussing plans, timelines and budgets for the plantation.
As the meeting was winding down, a horn sounded 3 times. “It’s time for evening assembly. I believe there are a couple of foreign visitors due floggings for poor performance. I’m guessing you both want to see that.” Priya and the horticulturalist both nodded eagerly. “Well, shall we, then?”
They walked out onto the assembly ground just in time to see the women filing in, barefoot in shorts and T shirts, weary after a hard day’s labor, forming themselves into rows facing the posts where Priya and her teammates had suffered. They went and stood near the posts, next to Eulalia, Barb and Dorothy. Eulalia called two names and two women stepped forward, one blond and thin with a Scandinavian name though she could have been American or Canadian, and one with black hair with a name that sounded Japanese. “You two useless cows have totally failed to do your jobs. Your miserable efforts have earned you two dozen lashes each. Strip to the waist. Now!”
The women hurried to remove their T shirts, obviously afraid that Eulalia would reconsider and give them even more. Priya thought they both had quite attractive breasts. “Over to the posts, let’s go!” Eulalia ordered. Guards came forward and attached their wrists to the manacles and pulled on the chains, raising them up on their toes. Then, they each took a whip out of the bag and measured their distance.
The flogging was just as Priya remembered, brutal, yet highly arousing. The women struggled wildly against their bindings for the first several lashes, howling and begging for mercy, all to no avail. By the time the first dozen had been administered, blood was visible on their backs, and continued to increase as the remaining lashes were delivered, flowing freely down their backs. By the end, the women hung from the manacles, panting and moaning. By the end, Priya was wet and breathing hard with excitement. She noticed a distinct bulge in the British horticulturalist’s trousers. Finally the women were released and taken to the clinic for treatment.
“I hope you enjoyed that,” Noba said.
“It was certainly quite a spectacle,” the horticulturalist replied. Priya could only nod in agreement.
As they walked towards the car, Noba sidled up next to Priya. “When is your flight?” she asked.
“In two days.”
“If you wish, I could arrange to have you spend tomorrow working in the fields. No charge for you, of course.”
“Would my old teammates have me flogged if I didn’t make quota?” Priya asked.
“I guarantee it,” Noba replied, pulling a contract out of her pocket.
“Do you have a pen?” Priya asked.
Now, in the words of the late, great Jim Morrison:
This is the end, beautiful friend
This is the end, my only friend, the end
Thanks to all the readers who have stuck with this series to the end. Special thanks to those who have made the story better through comments and suggestions.
