by D. A. Maddox
She didn’t say a word.
All my life, I’ve never been in trouble.
But she could not keep her heels from digging in, nor her arms from trying to draw in close to her body. They had to drag her, head going right, then left, eyes darting, panic swallowing her.
Nurse Reyes-Garcia led a shell-shocked Peter to the punishment horse—evidently a guy thing, for some reason—holding an elbow in one hand, checking her palm com with the other, thumb scrolling, flipping screens or something.
They bent her over, Veronica up front with both arms now, Officer Thompson behind, pushing her legs apart so that her ankles could meet the restraints.
“This is medicine,” Veronica said. “It doesn’t always taste good, especially when it’s good for you. Trust me. I know.”
“You spoke when you weren’t supposed to,” Officer Thompson reminded her.
Emma Jo nodded. Strictly speaking, most of that was true. And she didn’t want to be on their bad side.
Medicine, she thought. This medicine is going to suck.
“Show her,” Officer Thompson said to Veronica, buckling her legs in, then passing something over her back.
Veronica cinched her wrists tight in the leather. Ran her hands the length of her bare arms, raising gooseflesh, tiny hairs. Kissed her cheek. Took the thing, whatever it was. Showed her, holding it right up to her upturned, streaming face: three strips of leather, all at the end of a single handle.
“You’re getting four with this,” Veronica said—no smiles, all information. “Two from me, two from Jenny. We’re taking turns with you. And listen.” Here, a strange thing. A softness and maturity where Emma Jo least expected to encounter it. Was that … reluctant understanding? “This is going to hurt like hell, but you’ll be all right. So, Emma Jo, all right?”
Buddy only got three, she wanted to say. But then—
Buddy spoke up for Cassidy. You only spoke up for yourself.
“Yes, Miss Ronnie,” she said, held in place by leather and steel. Ready. Wet.
Still scared.
They took up position behind her.
Chapter Eight
Equality
Buddy pulled up his underwear as Cassidy let hers down, guiding her panties to the knees and letting them drop. Allowing herself to be seen by everyone. Letting herself become equal again to the shame already borne by her friends.
The shame, she thought, feeling it everywhere: in her mind, in her heart, in the well of her stomach—and in her sex, which she kept trimmed to a dainty, neatly cut V. The lips of her sex were slightly open under the hair. It was warm, like sitting on a radiator. And all around her, people were looking at it—that, and then her breasts, and then her face. Nurse Reyes-Garcia, Officer Garcia, Officer Kersey, even Buddy, all of them judging her most secret (and telling) places, measuring her humiliation, not even trying to hide that they were doing so.
Finally, she’d been given her fair share of shame—but not of suffering.
Because, just over there, Peter was strapped to the horse, readied for his turn. And there, splayed open over the A-frame, heaving, her open sex dripping onto the leather padding, Emma Jo awaited her imminent correction. Officer Thompson and Veronica stood behind her at either side, sharing tips, demonstrating different styles—different swings—with that triple-belt thing.
Miserable as she was, she didn’t cover when Officer Kersey snapped pictures of her, even though Buddy—poor Buddy—watched as she did so. It’s okay, the expression on his face told her. I know how you feel.
And he did. That and more. Buddy had been beaten.
For me, Cassidy thought. And they’re going to let me off.
Officer Garcia stepped up close, twirling his penlight. “Open your mouth, please.”
Cassidy obeyed. With post-transitional adults, that was what she always did, if not always with her peers.
“Wider, please,” he said. “Say ‘la, la, la’.”
Cassidy palmed her face, stretched her mouth open as far as she could, and made the requested noise.
****
Emma Jo didn’t know who her first punisher was until after the swat. They were behind her, and she was staring straight ahead, jaws clenched, teeth bared in anticipation. Down it came with a whoosh, cutting across both cheeks, its wielder swinging through without pulling up at the point of impact.
Her body bucked, arms jerking, legs kicking. She sucked in a breath, shaking her head as three distinct, thick lines instantly rose up from her skin like a branding iron taking on heat.
No screaming. Show them you can take it.
She opened her mouth in an O, let fresh tears fall, and made no sound with her voice.
“We have a quiet one,” Veronica said, handing off. “Somebody’s a little overachiever, hm?”
“And that was a good one, Ronnie,” Officer Thompson commended her. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had experience.” Then, to Emma Jo, “Right now, you think you don’t want to make any noise. It’s unhealthy, Emma Jo. Your body will make you do it, and then you’ll only feel worse. Let it out. It’s normal.”
Emma Jo tried to turn her head to answer—not really knowing what, if anything, she would think of to say—but then Officer Thompson caught her by surprise and lashed her before she was ready.
Emma Jo shrieked, full volume, her voice echoing off the far walls and singing damnation in her ears.
“Bitch!”
“Better,” Officer Thompson said, handing off. “Good for you, sweetie.”
Now that the proverbial cork was off the bottle, when Veronica brought down the lash yet again, Emma Jo held nothing back and nothing in. She wailed—and when she had her breath back, utterly unable to help herself, she yelled, “Hold on! Wait! Stop!”
Officer Thompson either didn’t listen or didn’t care.
But then it was over, and for a brief time the pain only intensified. Her buttocks swelled in the aftermath. The shock of the lash was over, but the burning remained. The fire still spread.
Emma Jo could only weep, still strapped to the A-frame, muttering curses, until Nurse Reyes-Garcia came to her.
But she thought, Okay, girl, done. You paid for the fuck-up. Punished for real, for the first time in your life.
****
Nurse Reyes-Garcia knelt behind her, dipped her hand in the gel. Oh, but this girl was good and striped—although Thompson and Cruz had known their business and done no permanent or lasting damage. And yet she made no further sound, just a bit of crying, while the swelling visibly increased.
Really, behind her and from farther away, Cassidy was considerably more vocal, and she was only having her juices drawn for dilation and a non-penetrating vaginal search.
“Emma Jo,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia said, “this will add to the stinging at first. It is a healing accelerant gel, something you need that Buddy did not. The intensifying of your discomfort will be momentary. Do you wish to bite down on something? I recommend that you do but will not require it.”
“No, Madam Reyes-Garcia. I—I’m okay.”
“Yes,” the nurse agreed, then immediately set to with the application. “You are.”
A quick squeak, another indrawn breath—no holding it, which was good—and Emma Jo was silent again. And, after about thirty seconds, her body relaxed, hung limp. Small shudders.
“There. See?”
“Thank you, Madam Reyes-Garcia.” A pause. “Did I do it?”
“Hm?”
“Take my medicine,” Emma Jo sniffled, “like the grown-ass woman I am?”
Nurse Reyes-Garcia allowed herself a small smile. “Like a champion,” she said, kneading flesh, working the medicine in. “Try to be good, going forward.”
****
Strapped to the punishment horse, Peter had to admit—if nothing else—his butt had never felt so squeaky clean as it did in that moment.
Kind of a shame it has to get followed up by this, though.
Officer Thompson stood at his
side, brandishing a rubber strap that was two feet long and about four inches wide. “Latex allergies?” she asked. “Didn’t see it in the report, but it doesn’t hurt to be safe.”
“Hypothetically, what if I say yes?” he asked, eyebrow arched. “Scot-free, then?”
Officer Thompson shook her head. “Standard disobedience paddle, oakwood, lacquered finish. It’s perforated.”
“Oh,” he said appreciatively. “No, no. Just call me ‘allergy-free Peter.’ Everyone does.”
She patted his neck. “How many for this one, boss?”
Still at the A-frame, now helping Emma Jo to stand, Nurse Reyes-Garcia called out, “Only three, I think, all things considered. But I was choosing between three and four, so do try to make them count.”
Her hand on the center of his back now, her knuckle running up and down the top of his spine, making him draw in, much as he could, from reflex. “You’re very calm, allergy-free Peter,” she said. “Are you going to be one of those suffer-in-silence types, too?”
“No,” Peter said with a small shrug. “I’ll probably scream my head off, actually.”
“Best thing for you.”
“Yes, I’ve heard.”
“Other thoughts? Commentary? Bravado or witticism?”
“Gotta say,” Peter reflected aloud, “my parents told me that college was a great chance to get to know people, but this is ridiculous.”
She drew back. Far back. Too far to reach him.
“Ah, what’s going—”
Then charged forward again, strap raised over her shoulder. And Peter was as good as his word. He hollered at the top of his lungs and felt no shame in it whatsoever.
That shit hurt.
****
Cassidy could not believe how loud Peter was.
He’s in agony. They all were when it was their turn.
And now Emma Jo, having paid like Buddy, was back in her red jumpsuit and hat and glasses, still running her hands under them to clear her eyes. Reforming the line of prisoners that Cassidy, too, would soon be allowed to return to.
But for now, she was still in this unspeakably revelatory and lewd position, her genitals and butthole on full display. She’d been made to spread herself to grant Officer Garcia full access, since in her case, opening her legs for him had not been quite sufficient to the task. He was done with the cavity swab and was vigorously at work on her clitoris until—to her own shock—she trembled out a dribble of come that he then used to lubricate her, to cause her vaginal lips to pucker.
He held up the pen light. “Cough.”
She did.
He nodded. “You may go to the table. There are wipes there for your personal use. Then get dressed and return to the line.”
She went, watching Peter being unbound from the punishment horse, fairly drooping into the arms of Officer Thompson. To have been beaten like that, and after what Nurse Reyes-Garcia had done to his poor behind…
Not me, she thought. I’m so good, if you turned the lights off, my halo would light the flippin’ room.
The guilt was terrible. She knew she wasn’t better, or worse, than any of them. She was just a dumb kid in way over her head; a kid who had, to this point, been fortunate enough to dodge that kind of attention. It wasn’t that she wanted to be beaten or felt she deserved it for any specific reason.
What one of us goes through, we should all go through. Simple as that.
“Cassidy Harper,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia said from behind her desk, pushing the box of wipes her way, “you seem conflicted. What is the matter?”
Cassidy plucked a couple wipes, turned from her, and bent slightly to get to the place she wanted cleaned. Right out in the open. God.
“I don’t know.”
But Nurse Reyes-Garcia didn’t let it go at that. She rose from the chair, came around the table-desk. Bent to Cassidy’s ear. “Yes, you do. You do not wish to say it. If you want me to take care of it, say something else. Anything else.”
Cassidy looked up, thinned her lips, then opened them to say, “Leave me alone.”
Nurse Reyes-Garcia took her by the upper arm and, without another word, marched her to the A-frame—where Veronica had just run disinfectant over the leather padding and restraints.
****
“So, tell me again, Cassidy, as you told me in the interview: Do you like men, or do you like women?”
She was bent over, buckled in, breathing heavy. Okay, Cassidy. You wanted it, and now you’re going to get it.
“I like men,” she said truthfully. Then, quieter but clearly, “and women.”
“But you have never acted on these things.”
Behind her, Officer Thompson pulled up a chair, letting the legs scrape loudly over concrete.
She shook her head. “H-how could I? I’m not allowed to. The Behavior Reformation Laws… The Twelve Virtues of Innocence…”
“Yes, those,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia said. “Which you forgot at a critical moment, as I understand by your record. Are you aware of another woman admiring your slit right now?”
Officer Thompson leaned forward, squeezing a thigh in either hand.
Cassidy looked up, bug-eyed. Nurse Reyes-Garcia took her face in both hands.
“Yes… Yes, Madam Reyes-Garcia.”
“Say, ‘Officer Thompson is admiring my fuck hole’.”
Cassidy’s mouth worked, but no sound came out. Was she serious?
“I—I don’t swear, Madam Reyes-Garcia.”
“Yes, you have told me this. Then you would find it difficult, for instance, to say ‘Officer Thompson is about to lick my dripping slit’?”
“That would be … very difficult, Madam Reyes-Garcia.”
Her ankles wrenched against the restraints. She would have kicked, if she could. She would not have been able to stop herself.
“Say it, Cassidy, for saying it is only the truth. There is no harm in words.”
“Ha,” Cassidy suddenly gasped, jolting when she felt the older woman’s tongue run the length of her opening. Then, leaning in, an open-mouthed kiss of her vulva, a finger reaching around the other end to manipulate her clit. Massaging.
But Cassidy, though she felt the truth all through her, didn’t say it. It was dirty.
Officer Thompson pulled back. “Hey, Ronnie, come on over. Have a taste.”
Veronica looked up from the cabinet-drawn sink where she’d just been cleaning up. “Who, little old me? Be happy to! Thanks!” And straightaway came bounding over.
Nurse Reyes-Garcia brushed hair from Cassidy’s forehead and eyes, urging the errant lock over her ear. “You would find it difficult to say, ‘Officer Thompson is going to share my cunt like a picnic lunch’?”
Two heads between her legs at once. Two tongues poking at her, alternately, in strange rhythms. Flutterings and spasms within her core she had never before felt. So strange.
“Th-that,” she stammered. “Th-that’s…”
Lips smacking against her. Small sucking sounds. Her folds being gently toyed with, pulled and then allowed to bounce back. Hungry little teeth. She was being shared. It was awful. It was wonderful.
“Say it,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia said, “for it is happening to you right now.”
She shook her head, her face burning, lower body quivering like a plucked bowstring.
They pulled back, taking turns to work her with their hands now, coaxing.
“Oh, yeah,” said Officer Thompson. “She’s coming. Let it come, girl.”
“So … fucking … hot,” said Veronica.
Her whole body tensed. The muscles of her secret place went taut, vibrated. Then erupted. And she came, much to the delight of Officer Thompson and Veronica, all over her inner thighs.
Nurse Reyes-Garcia stood from her, shaking her head. “I do not recall the last time I have encountered so much defiance from such an innocent, wind-driven, virgin flap snatch,” she said. “Alejandro, will you do the honors, please?”
He came over.
Wait, C
assidy thought, thinking of the man’s tank turret arms—the hideous strength rippling through them, hardly spent in today’s exertions. The others had all received their punishment from women.
No, she thought, still conscious of the wet heat trickling over her inner thighs, the dampness of her secret place. How open it was right now, how vulnerable. How helpless.
“It shall be my pleasure,” he said. “Nothing brings me more happiness than the education and improvement of young people—save time alone with you, my dear.”
Please, no. I’ll scream. Everybody’s watching.
Nurse Reyes-Garcia smiled at him, made an air kiss in his direction.
I’m so scared, she thought. But I asked for this. It has to happen.
Nurse Reyes-Garcia looked down on her. And again, she seemed to have read her mind.
“Do not be afraid, Cassidy Harper,” she said. “Every punisher in this room is capable of causing much greater pain and injury than they actually apply. Alejandro knows these limits better than most. He shall not cross the line, certainly never with one as tender as yourself. You shall see. But none shall doubt you received your fair share of discipline.”
Stares from everywhere in the room. Eyes on her bared, tremulous, soon-to-be punished flesh. Sympathy, even kindness, but no reprieve.
Veronica patted her quivering ass. “What’ll it be, boss?” she asked.
Cassidy let her head drop. Veronica’s fingers thrummed over her cheeks. Cassidy sniffled. There was no point in protesting the indignity. She must accept her shaming. It was the point.
“Leather strap with rawhide ticklers for this one, I think,” Officer Garcia said. “Cabinet two-F, if you please, Ms. Cruz.”
“BRB!” she chortled.
Like, she said the actual freakin’ letters.
****
At the end of it, her sorely tested ass cheeks freshly smeared with coolant cream—she hadn’t needed the accelerant gel—a bleary, bloodshot Cassidy Harper, once again fully dressed, joined her friends on the line between interview room and storage.
