by David Kempf
“A looker and a hooker, she has the perfect name, too, sir.”
The President of the United States laughed. Vivian with her perfect body and long black hair was a looker, indeed. And ratings went up, the previous floggings from the week before were old women and men who had to steal for food. That didn’t make for pleasant viewing. It was such a sad spectacle that it almost woke up the conscience of American TV viewers. Almost, close but no cigar as another president might have said.
The two men were disappointed in the ratings and probably feared arousing the disgust of the American people.
“The ratings were better but we need to worry. I mean pay per view cost the people money. We actually lost money,” Long said.
“I need to meet with the Senate and Congress to discuss this issue farther,” said President Specter. “We need to turn it up a notch, I think.”
Oh my darlings, they turned it up a notch alright. The evidence for the innately sinful nature of mankind was not lost on the Puritans. They would have a hell of a time with how their precious whipping posts were being perverted. Well, perhaps not, when you think about it, Puritan sexual repression probably came out in their sadistic punishments.
Well, there was no crazy gameshow announcer. The guards brought Vivian out behind the women’s prison and tied her to a whipping post that would have made the Puritans proud. This was nothing new. They televised it several times.
There was one thing different this time…. she was naked.
Naked and the whole world was watching…
“Oh, please, no,” she said.
The magistrates, eight of them, young and old, women and men surrounded Vivian. The final figure, dressed in black, wearing a yellow mask was the superior magistrate. He was the one who had the burdensome pleasure of whipping her.
He was so excited; he couldn’t wait to punish her. Things were really going his way; this was going to be a good day.
“This will bring me great satisfaction,” he whispered in here ear. “This is my lucky day.”
She grimaced and once again, the tears poured out of her. He thought intensely about every woman who had ever rejected him, turned him down, hurt his feelings and humiliated him. It was too bad for her but Vivian was going to have to suffer for them as well. His inadequacies as a potentially providing husband were also coming into play in his mind now. Poor Vivian was going to suffer.
“Please…” she whispered.
He pulled the whip back and paused for a moment.
Vivian was preparing for the intense pain she only heard about from others but never experienced personally.
The man in charge cracked the whip and when it struck the young woman’s back she was so stunned that no scream escaped.
“Five more to go, honey,” he said.
Waspish!
This time the terrible sting, the intense pain brought out the tears fast.
Waspish!
She screamed in humiliation and recoiled in fear at the lash that was coming next.
Waspish!
The man in charge tugged at his yellow mask. He was building up a sweat now. This was hard work and boy was he hard. What an understatement it would have been to say he was merely enjoying himself. This was the time of his life.
Waspish!
“Oh God,” she whimpered. “I can’t take much more of this…”
He walked over to his prey and put a little whisper in her ear once again. “Don’t worry, honey, only one more to go…”
She nodded.
This time he didn’t give it to her right away. Hell no. He was going to make her wait a bit. The man in charge wanted to savor the moment now. She was bleeding now. The superior magistrate decided to show a bit of mercy; he brought a small white towel to wipe her back with. The towel was blood soaked in an instant.
He briefly glanced at the other magistrates who were not required to wear a mask. They were not only showing no signs of excitement, they looked bored. He was sad that this splendidly good time was almost at an end.
He walked over to the tormented woman again. “Darling, it’s almost over. Don’t worry, I won’t really hurt you, I’ve been holding back.”
“You promise?” she asked.
“Vivian, you have my word as a gentleman.”
She closed her eyes as she listened to the sound of him dragging the whip, pulling it back so she could receive the last lash.
Waspish!
It was over, she let out a loud cry of relief and she didn’t care if the whole world was watching.
Waspish!
The whipping did not cease. “This isn’t happening!” she screamed. The pain and the shame were unbearable. In-between the unspeakable blows her mind drifted to other things. She half wondered if he was making a particular example of her but that made no sense. None of this made any sense, it was pure madness. She tried to find a happy place but there were no happier places left to go. The anticipation of the next blow at first was worse than the next lash stinging her back. Then there was only the pain.
To the man in charge he was the artist and the torn flesh on her back the lovely work of art. He was thoroughly enjoying himself now. The agonizing pain seemed like an eternity and then suddenly he stopped.
Her head was still thrashing back and forth and her hands struggled uselessly to be free. The artist walked slowly up to his suffering muse. He resisted the urge to kiss her on the check or at least to stroke her beautiful black hair.
“Almost done, darling, don’t worry, I’m a man of word.”
She tried to whisper something but the words would not come out of her mouth.
“What’s that?” he asked curiously. He smiled. “Are you trying to say something?”
“Yes,” she uttered.
“Well?”
“H-hurt me again, Please…”
“I will,” he said.
The next set of lashes came and now the man was embarrassed, his cock was awfully hard. Vivian was getting into it herself a little bit. The excitement of being at the mercy of this sadistic pig was delightful. She hoped that her tormenter was half as excited as she was.
Her silence was telling him all he needed to know. He forgot about all of the pretty girls who used to laugh at him behind his back. Now there was only one woman left in the world.
And she was all his.
“I…” Vivian made a vain effort to speak while she was whipped.
He knew that mercy was for weaklings and he was a strong man, he was the real deal. He began to whip her knees, her thighs and put several serious red welts on her remarkably sexy behind. The artist didn’t merely want this to be a guilty pleasure; he believed that when all was said and done this would be an historic event. He continued with a few more lashes on her lower back and then he had a change of heart. The artist decided that if he could stretch the whip around a little that he could whip her breasts, hopefully stinging a nipple or two.
Waspish!
Waspish!
She lost track of time but one thing was for sure and that was the lashes kept on coming. Speaking of which, she was getting rather wet between the legs. The artist formerly known as the superior magistrate was close to ejaculation.
Once again he suddenly stopped….
“No, don’t stop now,” she said softly.
He was ecstatic to notice that she was no longer using her hands to try and get free from this.
“I’m sorry, my dear, lost track of the lashes,” he whispered gracefully into her ear.
“That’s okay,” she said.
He walked away and firmly grabbed his whip.
Vivian grimaced.
“But then again, whose counting!” he shouted.
Waspish!
One more lash was all it took. This was indeed a special occasion. The passionate masochism and terror she felt produced multiple orgasms for her. She was so glad he got to play with her today. The man in charge was no slouch either. He could feel the sticky cum on the inside of his pants. He was
a little embarrassed but happy to see there was no stain. They essentially had a mutual orgasm together.
He walked up to her and untied her hands; she almost fell down from the trauma. Her back was sore and bleeding and there were whip marks up and down her voluptuous body. She leaned over and kissed him on the head.
“I love you,” Vivian said. Now she said this not feeling like a victim, she was almost convinced that other women envied her for the experience.
The satisfaction that the artist felt was nothing compared to the corporations that made a fortune from this pay television event. This was the future of television and it could last a thousand tomorrows, it could last until human nature itself evolved beyond its darker primary urges.
This, my sad humans, is what I have lived for since the beginning of time. I thoroughly enjoy watching men rise and fall and how the cycle never seems to break. Please notice I didn’t say this is how I survive, I will outlive you and the thousand generations that follow. This is what I stay alive for. Yes, mankind was doomed whether they knew it or not and… I think unconsciously they were aware.
Take the invention of film for example. Given human nature it was only a matter of time it would be used for perverse reasons. Lovely pictures of nude women soon followed like they did before when photographs were invented. Hell, first there were nude paintings and before that I guess naked memories. Since the internet was invented, men entertained themselves by jerking off. It’s all about money, though. Things seem to change but in reality they stay the same. I know, I know, it’s easy to criticize humans when you’re essentially immoral. I’m almost tempted to say ‘pathetic earthlings’ to describe humanity but then I would sound like a bad science fiction movie.
You never learn, you poor devils. I do find the human race amusing but I hate to sound so elitist since I can honestly never see the day when I will die. Ah, yes… to never die, to never cease to exist….
Humans do not know what they want; the entire idea of fairness, something so imaginary, a ridiculous idea with no bearing on reality. It’s a pathetic concept for a sad species. You were fuck ups from day one. Dreams do not always come true so grow up. You’re maker gave you a wet dream and you turned it into a never-ending nightmare. Love and hate are only illusions because fear and arrogance are the only true human passions.
Time to get back to the story: So ratings were through the roof with every victim and Alex Savage, mega producer had an idea to make them higher; this was one full year after televised public floggings were common.
“Who’s funny now?” Savage asked his secretary.
“Most of the good comedians are dead,” she answered.
“Oh.”
She smiled.
“Well, hell, I’ve got to think of something.”
“Sure thing, boss, I can come up with something.”
“How about now, dear, just off the top of your head?”
“What if…”
“Yes?” he asked almost nervously.
“I have a cousin, a drunk, a troubled man… but….”
“Please get to the point dear,” Savage said firmly.
“Jack Lively, my cousin-but I have to warn you, sir, he’s currently in a mental hospital. He’s been there a long time.”
“I see. Now is the time to get him out.”
The genie was out of the bottle, all right. The crowd gathered round the flogging of a handsome young man named Hans. He was a German immigrant to the United States who fell short of becoming a full citizen.
“Ladies and gentleman,” said the announcer, “You are privileged to see America’s most controversial comedian with a before and after show.” It was before because the American fools had the attention span of a fly and had to be entertained. It was after to provide some levity to the sadistic whipping spectacle. He was America’s most controversial comedian because artists tended to think for themselves and any comedian with any talent found flogging abhorrent. Several of the folks once at the top of the game were imprisoned for protesting it. Now they had him.
“Hey, you,” Lively said to a man in the front row. “You look pretty damn excited to see a naked man beaten and humiliated. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m an accountant,” the man uttered.
“Well if you enjoy this… I guess the gist of the message is don’t make love to your accountant.”
There were a few laughs but… not many.
A woman with an equal pay t-shirt sat behind the accountant. She gave Jack Lively a look that said ‘please don’t embarrass me.’
But he noticed her.
“So,” he said to her, “I guess you want equal rights for women. I bet that you want to see men beaten and humiliated as well. What’s good for the goose, huh sister? He paused to hear laughter that never came. “Do you get off on watching men suffer the way these sadistic pigs like watching a woman tormented?”
It was clear now that laughter would never come. Worse yet, he knew he was planting the seeds of dangerous ideas.
Americans, male and female would be getting off on the handsome young man’s agony. There would be a mass masturbating public. This, of course, all started with your BDSM porn which gave humiliating suffering to the masses.
And then he was booed off the stage so to speak…
Alex Savage and his secretary had another little talk behind closed doors…
“He’s just not working out,” said Savage.
“You should have him put back in the hospital,” she said.
“Yes, of course, dear, that’s just what we’ll do.”
“You know, we made a mistake. No one in their right minds would make a comedian an opening act at a strip club.”
“True.”
“Well, Mr. Savage, he still could have a use. He’s not a popular comedian but he is clinically insane. Well, what if he could provide proof that flogging could cure mental illness?”
“Oh yes, trial and error, my dear. Look if we televised the historic cure for diseases of the mind… it could…”
“It would be huge,” she said.
“Let’s just hope his cock is huge, too.”
“Amen.”
It was a high paying paid television event and with a little luck, it would be the birth of a new cure. Jack Lively marched out as naked as the day he was born. The lashes came and he screamed. This happened over and over again. The man in charge was not having a spiritual experience this time around. Men were not to his taste. Even if they were, an old fat slob, a dry drunk and a sanctimonious fool were not appealing to the eye. He tried to whip around his head; maybe he could get lucky and blind him. The artist got himself into a flogging frenzy and then got exhausted.
“Do you have anything to say, Jack Lively?” his tormentor asked him.
“The future,” he screamed, “does not belong to the c-cruel…”
The tormentor was furious now. He caught his breath and grabbed his whip. He didn’t notice that he had it backwards with the handle at the front. Jack Lively was supposed to be blinded by the next blow but instead a loud thump was heard when the handle struck him in the head.
“Oh God,” said the man in charge. He realized that he had just done something terribly wrong.
Jack Lively was on the ground, the blow to the head having killed him instantly. There would be no glorious praise for the radical cure for mental illness. Now there would only be more rebels lashing out against the lash and that was unthinkable.
***
“Comedy is dead,” said Alex Savage to his new secretary. That first one, poor unfortunate woman died in a mysterious car accident but no one was irreplaceable.
“Yes but there are other options,” she said. “My pig of a husband wants to divorce me because he thinks you and I are sleeping together, sir.”
Savage laughed. “How ridiculous, these divorces are a disgrace. Something should be done to persuade spouses who initiate them to come back to their senses.” Then he snapped his fingers.
“No, it’s not but how can we convince these selfish fools to mend the error of their ways?”
“A rhetorical question if I’ve ever heard one, dear.”
Her husband never made it; he poisoned himself with vodka and sleeping pills less than an hour after the new policy was announced to the public. His unfaithful wife was so disappointed that he would never be the man of the hour.
It turned out there was no shortage of folks getting divorced, there was, after all half or more of the population to draw from. Unfaithful spouses, deadbeat dads, gold diggers, they were all the same. Even those who were merely recently filing, they were all guilty before proven innocent in the bloodthirsty public eye.
This didn’t really work out too well. There were way too many citizens who became terrified of getting divorced now. Even those who were separated were filled with fear of the state terror that awaited them.
The public united in not paying to watch the poor souls who wanted to divorce. It wasn’t long before the law itself was overturned. There would be other failures but DUI offenders never got much sympathy so they continued to be on the painful receiving end of justice. Remember folks, the president was still more of a dictator than anything else.
“Divorce didn’t catch on,” Alex Savage said to his new secretary.
“Wasn’t your last secretary in the process of divorce?”
“Yes.”
“Her husband killed himself?”
“Yes and she was so in love with him that she soon joined him and took her own life as well.”
“Tragic,” she said. “My husband almost left me until he saw what happened on the government whipping post.”
“Did he suspect that you and I…”
“No, my husband is gay.”
“I see,” Savage said.
“There should be some kind of law against that, Mr. Savage.”
“Well, there will be…”
The president took more convincing this time because of all of the scandals that this man had caused him. Alex Savage was once seen as an innovator, creating his own version of the dark American dream.
