Being in prison awaiting trial, the trial, and then the expected guilty verdict hadn’t surprised him at all.Harry had been here many times before. The only difference was that he was over twenty one now. An adult.
Neither did the trip to the facility he’d been sentenced to surprise him, but this trip felt longer than usual and interminable. Eventually the truck stopped when he heard something happening outside, then moved a little more, then stopped, then started and drove a short way. Finally it stopped with a slight bump then the engine turned off. With a feeling of slight dread he thought ‘home sweet home for the next six months.’
He heard the other prisoners being taken out of the van and finally it was his turn, he was led out by an unsmiling guard. He was in chains and as per usual sp he had to shuffle out of the van and onto the platform then stand in line. He knew the drill from all the other times he’d been inside. He assume he’d be processed, stripped and searched, showered, given clothes and read into the rules then put into a cell for the night. First night was always the worst, new smells, new sounds, and new prisoners all to get used to. Now in an adult prison he was in no doubt he would be at the bottom of the pecking order and that had its own special perils.
This time it was vastly different.
It started with the officers. To a person they were women and none of them were ugly and that was to say the least. They were all dressed in black trousers with equipment hanging off their wide belts, button up white shirts with a tie and a cap on their heads. He was standing ogling the women, as were the others as they waited.
Then it got more surreal. One by one each of them was turned around. The cuffs were taken off then a leather strap was wrapped around the wrists to bring them into the middle of their backs. The strap was connected to a steel bar that ended in another strap that went round the neck of the prisoner. The length of the bar meant it sat behind the neck and so the strap could be done up firmly. Each of them tried to move their wrists and they all found they had almost no movement possible. They could move them away from their bodies just a little but not up or down.
After that the leg irons were taken off and the prisoner was turned around again. This was different. He was used to being handcuffed. The strap around the wrists and being linked to the collar was having an effect on him though. It was slightly disturbing in a way that simple handcuffs weren’t.
This was a surreal moment as he looked around. Suddenly there were six of them standing there looking at the guards and not knowing what was happening. He whispered to the man next to him, “What’s happening? I’ve never had this before.”
The man was his own age, maybe a little older. He’d thought he was a smug bugger, maybe an old hand at this. With a bare glance of disdain, he just shrugged then ignored him. Rude, thought Harry. Then again, he might have friends inside, best not to upset absolutely anyone.
“NO TALKING,” shouted one of the guards. She moved in front of him and now was face to face with him. “SILENCE,” she said again and something in her face made him keep the smart ass retort he had in mind to himself.
With that silence, the six of them looked at the three guards. At least they could walk, he thought, he’d never liked leg irons much.
The silence lingered, but eventually the door from the reception area banged open to a tall impressive guard, at least six feet tall and strongly built. She moved with a grace and power that made him immediately concerned, she looked like a fighter. But that wasn’t the thing his eyes lingered on, or the prominent bulge in her shirt from her large bust, or her attractive face.
No. It was what was in her hand as she stood looking at them and running it through her hands. It was the largest leather strap he’d ever seen. It had to be over three feet long. Two thirds of its length was a formidable piece of leather with two rows of a half dozen holes he thought he could get his pinkie finger through. The handle was a foot long and made of multiple layers of leather sandwiched together. There could only be one reason and one use for a thing like that and he had a horrible feeling he knew what it was.
“My name is Ms Saunders,” the new woman said as she looked at them in turn. “And this,” she said as she lifted the strap into the air and pointed it at each of them in turn, “this is Mister Best Behavior.” She ran the strap through her hand and none of them failed to notice it was hardly bending as she pointed it at them. The business end looked like being a quarter of an inch thick and maybe three inches across.
She smiled as she caressed the leather. “Now we are a correctional reformatory for recidivist offenders under thirty who have a chance at rehabilitation. For your stay here you will be expected to be on best behavior else you will become intimately familiar with my friend.” She flicked the strap in the air.
“Not only that, we have a zero tolerance policy. That is zero tolerance for every single thing. For any reason you can be sent to me for a dose of Mr Best Behavior and then bound as you are or in a hogtie for variation and that can last for hours, days or weeks even. Trust me, you will not enjoy that.”
“We have many rules. These will be explained to you in printed sheets in your cell. I strongly advise you to read them carefully.”
She looked at them and took her time, their eyes on the strap as she fondled it. “The next step in your induction process is your official welcome where you get to sample our hospitality.” She was positively grinning as she said that. Then she continued. “This is delivered by me of course, and my special friend here.” She flicked the strap up into the air again for emphasis, the meaning clear. They were getting strapped. Harry’s ass went cold at that thought, but his heart started to race and he felt the color going up to his face.
“What? YOU CAN’T DO THAT” said the man beside him looking indignant. He’d thought the guy was a bit full of himself, not talking to him before. He clearly had some social justice thoughts happening. Truth be told, he had his own thoughts but again something made him keep quiet. Luckily. Also no one else said anything either so their trouble-radar must have been triggered also.
Ms Saunders nodded to a guard. The guard went to a desk then from a box pulled out something he thought he’d seen before on the internet. The guard went straight to the man beside him, “Open up,” she said as she lifted it to his mouth. He took one look and refused, shook his head and made it difficult for the guard as he struggled.
A second guard joined in then it was only a matter of time. One guard held his shoulders, the other pinched his nose making him open his mouth in surprise. That was enough, the ball gag was shoved into his mouth then seconds later the strap was behind his head and buckled.
Ms Saunders walked up to him, she tapped his chest with the strap, “Now here is your first lesson. Any sign of rudeness, any shout against any guard, any hint of insubordination is punished. Any resistance, any refusal to obey an order from anyone here results in punishment. You,” she said as she tapped his chest again, “your welcome will now be twelve strokes. If you resist it will be doubled again and trust me, two dozen of my friend here will be something you won’t forget.” She smiled at them all, “And guess who will be going first.”
Two guards grabbed his arms then the pulled him toward an open door but he wasn’t keen on the idea. “Follow,” said Ms Saunders to the others. Then she added as she walked up to the gagged prisoner, “If you resist we’ll just make it two dozen right now.” That had an effect, the gagged prisoner stopped his efforts to resist, instantly.
The remaining five of them looked at each other for a moment, then as one they decided resistance was futile. This was not looking good.
The room they entered was austere. It had multiple doors in the walls but no windows. In the rear of the room was a wooden structure with a flat leather top. Hanging off it were a collection of wide leather straps, waiting for a victim to be strapped down. It was clearly a punishment horse, a whipping horse, and they all knew who was going to be riding it.
Ms Saunders addressed the gagged prisoner, “Go to the whipping horse, put your feet against the legs then follow instructions. Quickly now.” She looked at all of them in turn, “And if you resist your punishment will double. Your choice. I’m happy either way, but going to two dozen would make me happier.” She grinned as she flicked the strap up and down.
The gagged man looked wildly around, assessing his options, looked at the strap and the woman holding it but there were no options that looked any better. With a clear lack of enthusiasm he walked forward then did as told.
Two guards wrapped straps around his ankles then buckled them. One pushed him in the back with a command, “Bend,” which he did, not that he had much choice. A strap was buckled over the small of his back and in seconds he was presented. Almost. A guard gripped the top of his tracksuit pants and in one pull, had it around his knees. The other guard did the same to his underpants. With that a bright white pair of buttocks was looking out at them all, a shining white target Harry thought.
Ms Saunders walked forward. She stepped to one side and behind him, the strap out at the end of her arm so it went half way across his bottom, the end finishing at the butt crack.
Not a word was spoken. No one was looking anywhere else. The inevitability of the punishment was riveting all their eyes to the tableau. That and the inevitable strapping of themselves, each prisoner thought. At a time like this, self preservation and the state of their butts was foremost in their thoughts.
With deceptive slowness and grace the strap was pulled back and behind Ms Saunders. She looked like a strong and powerful woman, and then it was proven. The strap paused at the end of her arm, held far out from her body, her body coiled up like a spring, her legs bent, her body tense. Then in a blur she unwound and the strap whooshed forward with a high pitched swish that ended in a gunshot loud crack as it lashed across the bared bottom.
The effect on the bound man was instant and frantic. It made him tense his whole body, to try to lift off the horse, to shake and quiver all over and thrash against the straps holding him fast. The gag prevented the cry he wanted to make, probably a scream, so that all that came out was an indistinct gurgle.
The effect on his bottom was pronounced though. There was now a three inch wide band of red across the middle of his butt, going from one side to the other.
Al the other prisoners were watching it with rapt attention and not a little fear. This would be them soon. Harry looked at the other guards and noticed something disturbing. They were all smiling, all of them looking a little excited at the spectacle.
“Gentlemen,” Ms Saunders said into the near silence, the only sound being the man on the whipping horse moving against the straps and the occasional sound that got past the gag strapped into his mouth. “You see how well Mr Best Behavior works. A perfect stroke like that leaves a perfect band across the butt. At this moment he is trying to ease the pain as he squirms. But nothing helps. It will feel like a red hot poker is sitting on his butt but worst of all, he knows there is plenty more to come and there is nothing he can do about it.”
They all looked on in horror. Were they all getting this?
Ms Saunders took her time. She put the strap against the still quaking bottom then pulled it back behind her again. Again Ms Saunders worked her body into a powerful and efficient means to deliver that wickedly painful looking strap to the bared bottom.
Again she moved in a blur with the leather streaking around ending in a gunshot crack as the strap painted another band of red just above the first. Again the bound recipient thrashed around against the straps but there was nowhere to go and nothing to be done about it. He was getting a strapping come what may.
Ms Saunders said nothing as she ran the strap through her hands, watching, feeling the leather with a slight smile on her face. She stood looking at the man shaking the horse as he lay strapped down. She let time pass as they all watched the performance of the prisoner on the whipping horse.
Then the third stroke was laid on below the first. Now the whole of his butt was painted bright red. Each stroke had hardly overlapped, the three strokes spread out like that covering and painting the presented bottom a fine red color.
“Gentlemen, if he had been quiet and accepted what was to happen, he would now be half way there.” She smiled at them, “When it’s your turn on the horse, remember that. It could have been worse.” That didn’t help any of them.
Ms Saunders then took her time. She measured up, she waited a moment with the strap against his bottom, then she pulled it back and far behind herself. Swiveling around like a spring unwinding the strap cracked again and this time it was in the center of the bottom, on top of the first stroke. That was to be her technique; three strokes to cover the bottom, then the second set of three going over the top.
If the prisoner on the horse had been reacting strongly before, that was nothing compared to how he lurched against the straps holding him in position this time. His body shook the horse, the frame moving visibly as his shrieks of pain swallowed by the gag.
Taking her time, the fifth stroke was laid on above, then the sixth was lashed below that middle stroke. Now the whole of his bottom was bright red and looking angry, each art of it having taken two hugely painful strokes.
“Half way there,” said Ms Saunders as she swished the strap through the air just like a cat swishing its tail.
She walked in front of the bound man so he could see her, the strap in her hand swinging from side to side all the time. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked him happily as she bent down to be face to face with him.
His head nodded up and down frantically and something could be heard from around the gag. It sounded like he was begging her, wanting, pleading, promising anything but another six strokes like the last six.
She smiled as she looked him in the eyes, “Well I can’t,” she said as she patted his face, “you’ve got six to come. Now that I’ve warmed up, I think I’ll make these harder. Full strength this time.”
That produced more shaking of the wooden horse and shaking of the head along with muffled pleas for her to stop. But it made no difference, Ms Saunders didn’t care what he said. This was all for show.
Ms Saunders walked back behind the bound man, off to one side just the same as for the last set of six. She extended the strap at the end of her arm till it was covering just the near buttock, just like every other time. It took her very little time to get ready.
“Nice and hard this time,” she said quietly as she measured up the strap across the waiting quivering red striped bottom.
The ‘crack’ when it came was far louder and more crisp than before. None of the new prisoners believed it could be any harder, but it was.
Same as before the first was across the middle of the bottom on the already red surface. This stroke being the hardest of them all left its own even deeper red band of sting shining among all the others, the three inch band of pain clearly visible.
It was the third stroke to the center of his butt and it clearly hurt.
The effect on the prisoner was all it should have been. He surged in the straps, the horse moving violently as he shuddered and shook, his body writhing in pain. The gurgles getting past the gag sounded like one long scream.
Ms Saunders didn’t delay this time. The next ‘crack’ sounded only a half dozen seconds later and left a new more red band above the previous, then seconds later another ‘crack’ of strap on bottom laid a band of red perfectly completing the surface. The whole butt for three times the width of the strap was now blazing red.
Ms Saunders had waited after each of the previous sets of three, but this time she did not. She kept right on. This was to be a punishment, and a punishment she would deliver.
The next stroke to the middle, the one above then the one below each lifted the bound prisoner to new heights of frantic movement against the straps on the horse. Now the color was fire engine red and looked as painful as the bound prisoner was making out by his movements. This was not a lesson he’d ever forget. Nor would any of the other prisoners either.
Ms Saunders walked back in front of the prisoner and bent down till she was looking into his eyes again. “That was a dozen. If you are insolent, rude, resist or disobey I’ll have you back again for another dozen.” She stroked his face, getting his full attention. “But that’s not the best of it. I’ll make it two dozen if you annoy me in any way. Just imagine that, you get twice as many strokes. The best part is we won’t be in any hurry then. I can leave you strapped down for five minutes between each dozen and get one of the officers to massage your butt so you can feel the second set properly. Would you like that? Hmm?” she asked.
The prisoner shook his head frantically, clearly not wanting any more.
“Good, you get the idea,” she said, “when we let you up, behave. I promise I can give you another dozen, or two dozen, straight way if you annoy me or any of the guards in any way.”
All the other prisoners listened carefully to that. None of them wanted a dozen and two dozen was a bridge none of them wanted to cross. This Ms Saunders liked her strap far too much.
Ms Saunders stood then nodded to one of the officers. The bound prisoner was unstrapped then he was helped up. Clearly the strapping had left him exhausted the way he slumped between them.
It was a strange sight, the tracksuit had now fallen down around his ankles so his privates were on display and when he was turned around, the bright red bottom along with his bound hands in the middle of his back leading up to the collar completed the image.
“Who’s next? Any volunteers?” asked Ms Saunders happily as she ran the strap through her hands. “You all get a welcoming six of the best so you might as well get used to the idea.”
Harry saw the man beside him step forward, slowly, looking totally nervous. With shaking steps he approached the wooden horse and waited as his ankles were strapped to the legs of the horse. When that was done he didn’t wait, he bent at the waist then the broad strap was run over his back and bound him to the horse.
“Excellent,” said Ms Saunders. “I do like a willing victim for my friend here,” as his tracksuit and briefs were pulled down.
This time the strapping was quick. The six strokes were laid on firmly but not quite at the same intensity as the last six for the previous prisoner. Even then, these strokes still had a huge effect. The prisoner shook, he waggled his hips and his bottom between strokes. Since he wasn’t gagged, he also shouted out loudly with each stroke, his “yaaggghhh” coming at the instant of the crisp crack of the strap on his bottom. As the strokes progressed, his shouts got louder and more strident.
It only took a minute for his welcoming strapping, a minute of loud shouts and gunshot cracks of prison strap on inmate bottom.
“Good,” said Ms Saunders, “no swearing. If you swear I double up. Oh. I forgot to mention that. No matter.”
The prisoner was now standing with his tracksuit around his ankles, beside the other prisoner, their privates on display.
“Next,” said Ms Saunders. Another prisoner stepped forward and quickly he was strapped down, his bottom exposed then six strokes of the strap laid on. The recipe was quickly followed and now there were three men side by side, each with glowing red bottoms and their privates on display.
There were only three of them remaining now, three unstrapped prisoners and none of them wanted to go next.
“Quickly,” said Ms Saunders. “Either one of you steps forward right now or I call this insubordination and double up for a dozen each. I do like giving a good solid dozen.”
The man beside Harry stepped forward and was duly strapped down, bared then Ms Saunders gave him his six. the inevitability of it all was getting to Harry.
Soon it would be his turn.
