by Nicola Diaz
“You don’t know what I read, officer.” I gave him my smug response with dignity.
“I happen to read the Utopios Times every day.” I couldn’t see a thing from under the blindfold.
The pressure around my wrists was intensifying, and I wondered how much longer they would keep me bound in such a way. Before I could think further, one of the officers stuck a rubber electrode to my bare arm. I heard a grating sound from the front of the vehicle, and then a pulsing shock ripped through my body. I jumped up, but my wrists were confined to the hook, so I could barely move when I stood up.
“It would be in your best interest to just sit still and accept your punishment.” One of the officers whose voice I didn’t recognize blurted out his command and then laughed when the others saw how much the shock had jolted me.
I felt a moment of panic, and I wondered if anyone in the community knew that they had captured me. What if they took me to an abandoned warehouse and then locked me up where nobody could find me? In the midst of all of my excitement over the potential for BDSM and torture, I had failed to consider the potential harm that could be inflicted on me, and I shuddered to think of what might happen next.
“Take her shirt off, Joe.” One of the men laughed and then I felt someone take a knife and slice my shirt right down the front.
My breasts were exposed since I never wore a bra, and I could feel their eyes staring at my nipples. One of the men sat beside me- I could smell his cigarette as he got close, and pinched my right nipple with his fingers. I cried out, even though it felt stimulating. I loved to have my breasts fondled, and the way that he touched me set a fire between my legs.
“You know, I enjoy being tortured.” I couldn’t help but say something.
It was difficult enough sitting there, tied up, being electro-shocked and fondled in silence. I felt like I had to speak up to declare that I still existed.
“I used to steal more coins years ago, but as soon as Utopios cracked down on our relations with the Unix Society, I scaled back.” I though that maybe they were interested in my history, that they would be interested in knowing a little more about me.
After all, I was chained to their vehicle and half-naked.
“Shut your trap, Giselle.” One of the Task Force officers spoke up and I was startled.
How did he know my name?
“You knew that you would be captured and tortured before we even thought about coming for you. It’s common knowledge in Utopios that criminals know their punishment before they commit their crimes. We all know that you climbed the fence to the Unix Society so that we would come trailing after you.” I could feel his stare, and the blindfold was beginning to hurt my eyes.
“Well, then at least we’re on the same page in that respect.” I writhed on the cold, metal bench, and felt the pull of my wrists grow stronger.
A chill ran down my spine, and I could sense that my nipples were now hard as rocks. I wanted to scream, but I knew that my punishment might be even harsher if I got loud. Before I could say anything else, I felt another electrode being placed on my skin. This one was stuck on my stomach, and as soon as it was secured, the hair-raising, grating sound from the front of the vehicle sounded once again, and a shock jolted through my body.
“That one got her good.” I heard one of the Task Force officers smirk.
I then felt the vibration of the shock sidle up through my torso, into my arm and through my neck. It was an intensifying sensation and I got both woozy and disoriented.
“Let her out of the cuffs for a minute.” The same voice piped up and I felt a twinge of hope.
Maybe he’d finally let me stretch out for a minute, re-group, and rub my raw, chafed wrists. I felt a tug on my hands, and then a feeling of relief as the cuffs were unlocked, and my hands were set free.
I gently rubbed my wrists, and although I couldn’t see anything through the blindfold, I could tell that they were raw and blistered from being bound up on the hook. I touched my breasts, and I wondered if anyone thought I looked sexy. As if reading my mind, one of the Task Force officers spoke.
“Take off your jeans. Then get back on the bench. You’re in for a treat with this next one.” He laughed and I felt both excited and humiliated.
For as much as I wanted him to let me free, I also wanted him to torture me further, to play with my breasts and make me feel that my burglaries had all been worth it.
I slowly unbuttoned my jeans and wriggled my way out of them. I held them in my hand for a second, and in an attempt to bring some levity to the situation, twirled them on my finger. The officers didn’t find any humor in my behavior, because the vehicle was filled with silence, and I heard no applause of approval. I sighed and then hung my head, feeling ashamed and lonely.
“Hey, Jeb. Put the cuffs around her ankles this time.” One of the officers gave orders and apparently the other followed them, because within minutes, I felt the cold circumference of metal bind my ankles, and I was literally forced to sit back on that cold bench.
Without the protection of my jeans, the bench was disturbingly uncomfortable. Little metal ridges from the seat’s construction dug into my thighs, and I squirmed around, diligently trying to find a more comfortable position.
My feet, shackled and twisted, were of no use now. I could swing my legs back and forth, but I couldn’t get up if I needed to, and it made me feel even more powerless than having my hands bound. One of the officers lit another cigarette, and I coughed.
“Keep quiet over there or we’ll have to give you more shocks.” Another officer spoke, and I winced from the pain that the metal seat inflicted.
“Well, you ought to give her another shock, regardless.” I heard a voice from the front of the vehicle speak out, and I figured that one of the Task Force officers must have been in the driver’s seat, controlling the electro-shock mechanism, while the other three remained in the back, handling the blindfold and the handcuffs.
I braced myself for what I knew was coming next. One of the officers slapped an electrode directly under my left breast. He fondled my nipple after he stuck it on my skin, and then I heard the grinding sound.
I lurched forward after the shock. It sent a tingle throughout my entire body this time, and I figured he must have increased the voltage. I wanted to kick and scream, but my feet were bound, and my mind was beginning to grow weary. I could only imagine what they had in store for me next. I was hungry, thirsty, and needed to use the bathroom. One of the officers must have decided to have some mercy on me, because he whispered to one of his comrades that they ought to let me out for a little break. I hoped that they would at least have enough decency to let me pee.
“Unhook her feet and take off the blindfold. We’ll give her a break before we take her to the center of the square.” One of the Task Force officers spoke up, and I felt a chill run down my spine.
The Square? I didn’t know why they would be taking me to the center of Utopios. Did they plan on performing a public humiliation? I tried to remember all that was written in the paper, and recalled a brief blurb about some of the more serious crimes being punishable with routine, enclosed torture as well as public humiliation and torture. I became filled with anxiety.
“Sit still.” One of the Task Force officers came to my side and started to un-lock the cuffs from my feet.
I sighed with relief when they were removed, and wiggled my toes around, hopeful that he’d take off the blindfold next.
“You get fifteen minutes to use the bathroom and get some water.”
He untied the blindfold and I shielded my eyes from the blinding light that emanated. I looked out and saw the three Task Force officers, standing at the bottom of the vehicle ramp, with hand on their hips, and smirks on their faces.
I tried to steady myself because I was feeling a bit wobbly on my feet. One of them laughed and lit a cigarette.
“How are you feeling now, Giselle?” He laughed after he asked me the question, and then the other three laugh
ed as well.
“Was this a shocking experience for you?” He slapped his hand on his knee, apparently amused at his pun.
I stood silently, trying to make out the names on their badges. I turned around and realized that we were parked about a block from the square. I wondered what they had up their sleeve.
The officer named Jeb took me by the arm and led me to a portable toilet. He motioned for me to sit, and I did with relief. It felt so good to let myself relax for a moment, even if it was only to go to the bathroom. I had no problem urinating in front of him. In fact, it felt kind of exciting, and I remembered that part of my intentions with stealing the cats in the first place was to experience the tortuous sensations. I believed in living an experiential life, and this was all part and parcel.
“Get ready for the square.” Jeb cocked his head to the side and grimaced.
I craned my neck and tried to see where they would station me, what they would do for my punishment. I could see a large, wooden platform standing in the center of the square, and my heart raced with anticipation. There was what looked to be a long, metal crane hanging from one of the walls that held up the platform, and it reminded me of a gallows. Were they planning on hanging me from the crane?
I was both mortified and enticed. Before I could cast any more worry into the scenario, Jeb guided me around to the staircase that led up to the platform. He watched me cautiously as I walked, slowly and sure-footedly, across the platform and underneath the crane. I hesitated as the other officers followed behind him, their batons in their hand and their voices gruff and deliberate. I didn’t want to look in the other direction, toward the square, itself, because I could hear a crowd beginning to congregate below.
One of the other officers threw my jeans at me. “Put these back on, but leave your tits out. They’ll like that.” He smiled facetiously and then walked up to platform, meeting me underneath the crane. I looked up and gulped.
Three large, brass hooks jutted out from the tip of the crane. I knew that they planned on suspending me from this device, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
“What do you plan on doing to me?” I wondered if they could sense the worry in my voice, but chose not to become preoccupied with their assumptions.
“Stand on the stool.” Jeb motioned toward a tree stump that was about ten inches high.
I bent my knee and started to climb on it, then turned around to make sure that I was proceeding correctly. Jeb nodded and waved me on. I climbed up top and then stood motionless. I could feel hundreds of eyes on me, and for once I actually wished that I could have my blindfold on.
“Ladies and gentlemen. The Task Force of Utopios would like to warm you that what we will be showing you in the next hour is neither pleasant nor attractive. We have purposely decided to allow viewing of this punishment procedure so that you might think twice about any crimes you think of committing. We do not take this lightly, and we feel that as citizens of Utopios, you are worthy of understanding the severity of our specific consequences.” Jeb spoke into a microphone and the crowd stood silently, their hands up at their faces and their expressions both curious and stern.
I thought back to my earlier literature reading of the Scarlet Letter, and although not an adulteress, I could relate to the plight of Hester Prynne, as she stood before a crowd wearing her scarlet “A” emblazoned on her chest.
“What did she do?” A man called out from the crowd and I felt my face flush. I wasn’t embarrassed of my burglaries, per se, but I was uncomfortable with the fact that nobody in the crowd would ever understand what drove me to steal. They would only see me as a petty thief, as one who stole from her own community in an attempt to monopolize on an underestimated source of wealth right outside our back door. I looked at the ominous clips and then lowered my head as one of the Task Force officers led me to the crane.
He shackled my hands, and then my feet. I grew nervous with the decreased mobility, and then I decided that this is what I had wanted. I had known about the punishments all along, and I had still decided to rob. It was something in my blood that I couldn’t rectify. Nor did I want to. I waited patiently for what would happen next. Jeb circled me on the stool and strapped a leather harness around my waist. He cinched it tight and I cried out.
“Your responsibility is to accept the punishments.” He spoke to me with authority and I tried to pretend that I wasn’t intimidated.
I wished that I could see everyone’s expressions in the crowd, but instead all I could do was imagine. One of the Task Force officers turned a crank and I was lifted off the stool and ten feet into the air. I hung like wet rag, suspended in the air with both my hands and my feet tied close to my body. It was a petrifying experience and I re-thought my decisions to accept the punishment with such a carefree attitude.
I could hear hushed voices in the crowd, and it felt like an added element of torture by not being able to see their faces.
“Coin-thief!” I heard a woman’s voice shriek from below, and then felt someone try to grab my crotch.
They all wanted to touch me, wanted to sexually humiliate me. I jumped back, and in doing so, the suspension careened further toward the crowd, and they all yelled out, anticipating my body landing on their heads.
“She’s a robber! Torture her in the name of the new Utopios!” I heard a man’s voice yell, and it made me cringe to think that everyone viewed me with such contempt.
I lowered my head and then waited for what was next. One of the other Task Force officers noted that it was now getting dark, and that they would use a spotlight for viewing purposes. It was also growing cold, and a damp chill lingered in the air.
The suspension wheel was cranked and I felt myself being pulled up higher into the air. My bare breasts hung down and I could tell that my nipples were rock hard because the temperature was dipping so low. My body felt exhausted from the long and tiring day, and I wanted to just close y eyes and pretend I could fall asleep, but that was only a fantasy. The jeering from the crowd and the loud cranking sound of the wheel made it impossible for me to focus on anything except my public humiliation.
I could hear Jeb laughing from a distance, and I tried to kick my legs forward in an attempt to maintain an iota of control over the submissive atmosphere. It was no use, for it seemed that the harder I kicked, the higher Jeb pulled the crank. I could tell that I was at least twenty feet off the ground now, and it was a jarring sensation to have the earth removed from under my feet. All I could do was accept my punishment, hang my head and allow the public of Utopios to see me for what I was- a ruthless serial burglar with an appetite for adventure.
“Tell her to play with her tits!” A man’s voice rang out from the crowd and I wondered what the Task Force would do in response.
I heard heavy footsteps on the platform, and guessed that they were Jeb’s. I felt a yank on my feet, and I cried out in pain. He yanked again and tightened his grip so that the suspension pulled me up, while his hands attempted to pull me down.
“I’m being stretched!” I yelled out and Jeb stopped pulling down on my cuffed feet, just in time for me to realize that my pussy was damp from excitement.
The odd combination of fear, humiliation, and anxiety must have stirred in me some kind of sexual release, because I was beginning to play into the crowd. I decided to go with their demands, and I held my cuffed hands up to my breasts, and tried to fondle my nipples through the metal cuffs. The crowd got noisy and I heard a few men comment about jerking off. That’s when Jeb cranked my suspension up even higher.
“Crank her up!” I heard another call from the boisterous crowd, and Jeb did as requested.
As my body was pulled up higher in the suspension, I tried to recall what I had read in the newspaper. I knew that the crime I committed was punishable with public torture, but I had no idea that I would be hoisted above a jeering crowd, yanked by constraints and left to dangle above a massive platform. It was both exciting and humiliating. I didn’t know what I wanted by t
he time the crowd went wild. All I knew was that my body felt tired, and my mind felt challenged.
“I’m only a coin thief!” In a rare instance of spontaneity, I called out and waited for the crowd’s reply.
Something in me was finally compelled to let them in on some of my story. After all, I wasn’t a murderer, and I didn’t want them to think that I was a dangerous person. I wished that the Task Force would give me a break, like they did when we were in the vehicle. I had to go to the bathroom again, and I was so hungry at this point that my stomach made loud, gurgling noises. Yet they seemed to have no intentions of letting me down.
“Giselle, fondle yourself again. The crowd wants to see you play with yourself!” Someone else yelled out and I wondered if I should comply.
I had never done much public masturbation, but I decided to give it a try. I took my cuffed hands and started to rub them up and down over my crotch. It was difficult to get good access to my pussy because my hands were bound, but I tried, and surprised myself by realizing how good it felt to have some pleasurable sensations while I was in the torturous contraption. I rubbed harder, then harder still, and the crowd got louder.
