by Mark Andrews
Title Page
A New Kind Of Punishment
By Mark Andrews
Kinks Books is an imprint
of W&H Publishing LLP.
Publisher Information
This eBook edition published by Kink Books is an imprint of W&H Publishing LLP, Foresters Hall, 25-27 Westow Street, London, SE19 3RY.
Digital edition converted and published
by Andrews UK Limited 2012
www.andrewsuk.com
Previously published by The Olympia Press
PO Box 148, Ryde, Isle of Wight, PO33 9BE.
Copyright © Mark Andrews
The right of Mark Andrews to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead and is purely coincidental.
This eBook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by the way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, electronically copied, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent.
Chapter 1
Will Chalmers is a staff psychiatrist at the Brisbane Central Prison. Of course as a shrink, he first qualified as a physician and surgeon but then specialised in psychiatry. Following his graduation and after taking an appointment with the Department of Corrections, he became interested in the criminal mind and particularly the efficacy of various corrective methods tried over the centuries.
He decided very early in this at first casual interest in punishment that the present methods were quite useless and resolved to make a proper study of the subject. The result was a considerably more serious research resulting in a thesis which earned him a doctorate of philosophy from the University of Queensland - but little else. Every time he broached the subject with his superiors in the department, he was met with tolerant amusement...
Until in 2020, there came a rash of sex crimes. Rapes, both of young men as well as women and girls; lesser assaults but still of a sexual nature; and a veritable explosion of such crimes against minors.
The public was outraged and the media caught the mood and lambasted the government with it. And the outcry continued. Every day one or another sections of the fourth estate let fly with accusations of mismanagement, apathy and similar charges.
David Peters, Director-General of the Department of Corrections, remembered Will’s treatise and got it out and re-read it. And then he read it again. He called the young psychiatrist into his office. “You really believe your ideas will work, young man?” he said, staring intently at the medico.
“I do. Look, Mr Peters. We’ve tried education. We’ve tried shock treatment, among many other medical ‘solutions’. We abandoned physical punishment and hard labour as being inhumane and look where it has brought us. Crime generally has been on the increase for decades - you might say it started to rise almost exponentially when we went soft on the criminals - and now sex crime has taken off most alarmingly. And what do we do about it? We slap these crims on the wrist and ask them not to do it again!”
He looked intently at his boss for a moment or two. “But you haven’t brought me in here to hear that. What is it, sir?”
“I have been reading and re-reading your treatise, young man. It’s certainly revolutionary and, one might also say, reactionary, but I think the minister and the premier might be interested. Of course, if it was to go ahead, even on a trial basis, we would need federal approval for your ideas entirely offend the International Treaty for the Minimum Treatment of Prisoners...”
Will grinned. “They do rather, don’t they? However, I truly believe that if we are to stem the tide of violent crime, we need to address its punishment with a similar severity.”
“As it happens, I agree with you. Alright, I admit I didn’t do anything about it when you handed me the treatise for the time was not then ripe, but things have become so bad, I now believe government may lend a receptive ear to it.
“What I am going to ask you is whether you would be prepared to put your money where your mouth is, so to speak.”
“Sir?”
“What if I was to set you up (assuming the government agrees, that is) with a small unit of the worst sex offenders. Say thirty or forty of them. We would provide you with a small facility and sufficient staff, which you would choose and train yourself and then be given carte blanche to try out your theories...”
Will sat back and stared at the D-G in awe. He had never believed that those on high in this so-called enlightened age would ever put his theories to the test, but in his heart he was exulting. He didn’t hesitate a moment longer. “Yes, sir. If it was offered, I would jump at the chance to prove my theories and I am sure that the criminal elements will then quickly think twice about their actions.”
“Alright, leave it with me but I think in this present clime, the government will have no option other than to accept my recommendations. Whether the federal people will come on board is moot, but I have a suspicion they will for Queensland is not the only state with this problem, it is a national problem of nearly overwhelming proportions.”
Will Chalmers
To cut a long story short, after many months of talks and negotiations in and between governments, approval was forthcoming. I was detached from my role as a clinical psychiatrist with the prison and began to set up my own small unit.
I recruited as my lieutenant a magnificent specimen of physical development. This young man, Carl Jordan, was only twenty-four years old, but he was a highly efficient correctional officer. He was also black, his family having immigrated from Nigeria when he was just a small child.
More importantly still, he, like each of the other seven men I drafted for my project, was very receptive to my ideas and each of them were more than eager to put them into practice.
The DG had given me authority to find my own premises, but had offered total departmental support in that process as well as the fitting out of it. We found an ideal site in an industrial area on the south side of the Brisbane River, near its mouth. It had once been a munitions factory and therefore already had excellent security arrangements. Yes, it needed refurbishment and some modifications but not a lot and importantly, at no huge expense.
Part of my thesis had been that correctional facilities were far too expensive to operate. I wanted to make our little experiment run at zero cost to the government. Of course, to do this, I had to create an income and this I will explain as we go along.
But just as important was the cutting of costs. Some, such as salaries and wages, I couldn’t alter, but the huge cost of security in our regular prisons, I could - and very easily. I could also cut back on food costs and in prisoner clothing - for there wouldn’t be any. Yes, I had suggested in my thesis that total nakedness would be a salutary shame and therefore an added plank to the raft of punishments I suggested would all go to reform our prisoners.
Hard labour was another of them but I proposed that their labour should be useful. I had researched with an electrical engineer friend of mine the amount of electricity we would need to run this pilot project and how much human labour could generate. I was surprised at the results, especially as we installed low-energy LEDs or fluorescents in place of existing lighting. But he also suggested a waste digester which created methane that would then power a gas-fired generator as well.
But let me jump ahead of all this preparatory stuff and describe our first operational day. We had selected the prisoners carefully. Each was a sex offender for I had theorised that such criminals ought
to be housed and punished separately and somewhat differently from ‘normal’ felons, although they too would have it really tough under my regime. This lot were either rapists or paedophiles and would be punished accordingly.
On that first day, we took the first twelve of the thirty I had selected. They were brought to us in a prison van and herded into an ante-room off the reception area we had created. They were ordered to stand against the long wall and not to talk. They were watched by two officers, each armed with a taser gun which they had authority to use at the slightest disobedience. These modern tasers were more like the science-fiction ray guns of comic book fame and would work on a prisoner from some ten metres distance.
Of course, being criminal prisoners, they tested our resolve within the first few minutes. Pete Williams grinned as he aimed his gun at the subject’s balls and fired. The prisoner screamed and collapsed on the floor while the others looked on in horror and dismay. I think they realised then that they were now facing a rather different form of imprisonment than that to which they had been hitherto used.
This introduction, Carl and I watched from the door to the interview room to which we now summoned the first prisoner. I sat behind the plain table which, with my chair, were the only two items of furniture in the otherwise bare room while Carl dragged the young man in. And I mean dragged. He grabbed him by his ear and literally pulled him from the waiting room into this one, standing him in front of the table.
The prisoner, Sandy Blake, was of medium height and slim but he wasn’t at all good-looking. He was a convicted rapist, his victim being a girl he abducted at gunpoint.
I sat back in my chair and looked him up and down scornfully for a few moments but then, almost casually, observed to Carl that he was rather over-dressed for a rapist, wasn’t he?
Carl grinned back at me and turned on the twenty-one year old, spun him towards him and then, in one motion, before Sandy could do anything about it, tore open his prison shirt and dragged it down off his upper body, thereby pinioning his arms behind his back.
He then tore open his pants and dragged them down to his ankles, similarly immobilising the young criminal’s feet. That left him with his underpants and Carl made short work of them, tearing them off his body to leave it virtually naked.
“And now you will strip off the rest of them, boy,” I said harshly, staring at him intently.
He returned the look with one of hate and told me to get stuffed.
I grinned while Carl fished out his taser, new small, handgun type weapons, and pointed it at the boy’s now naked groin. In an instant he had screamed, doubled over and collapsed on the floor.
“Want another dose, scum?” I asked, quite pleasantly, this time. “If not, get up and strip...!”
He didn’t hesitate now, climbing to his feet with some difficulty given his pinioned arms and ankles and shedding the shirt, his sandshoes and pants. They were now torn somewhat, from Carl’s initial stripping and I now ordered him to place them all into the large rubbish bin beside the front of the table.
The loss of his clothing was not lost on him but eyeing Carl’s taser in fear, he obeyed my order.
“And now to complete the process,” I said, glancing at Carl. He smiled, grabbed the boy’s muscular arm and dragged him over to the back corner where stood the auto-depilation box. It was the most expensive of the items I had asked for and had been granted for I had indicated that shame was a major part of the treatment and denuding these felons totally was going to be a big part of that shame.
“Inside, boy,” Carl growled in his deep voice. “Reach up and grab the handles above your head.”
The box itself was made of glass but the rubberised handles were electrified and as soon as I pressed the start button, they activated, preventing him from releasing his hands. They also dragged him up off the floor a little and now the glass walls came alive, zapping the hairy parts of his body with blue sparks which reached out and licked at his flesh.
He screamed beautifully of course, his legs flying every which way and even touching the glass walls - which he desisted immediately once he realised the shocks were then multiplied tenfold in intensity.
This process was going to take from five to ten minutes (depending on the subject’s hairiness) and so we left him there, hanging by his hands while the blue zaps licked out at his body, slowly denuding him of every hair on it, from his head, eyebrows, beard and of course all of his body hair as well.
Carl then moved back to the door and brought in the next prisoner, this one a paedophile who had molested a number of girls before being caught and convicted.
He stared at Sandy, now naked and struggling in the depilation box and screamed out in fear. “Strip, scum!” I ordered and observing the taser in Carl’s hand, he did so with alacrity and dumped his clothing, all of it, into the same bin Sandy had. But I noticed he was staring at that young man as often as not, his face now showing his worry at what he had landed into.
The box now dinged at us, indicating Sandy was done and I moved over (while Carl watched Joe Connors carefully) and drew him out of the box to stand beside it against the wall. He was a vastly different looking specimen than the young man who had entered it only a few minutes before. He was now totally nude. Completely bald and devoid of every last hair on his whole body from tip to toe. His genitals were totally exposed as was every other part of his slim but muscular body.
“Hands up behind your head, scum,” I ordered and when he hesitated, punched him in his belly, not lethally, but hard enough to make him bend over and grab his stomach, at which I had my own taser out and zapped his buttocks.
He quickly assumed the position I had ordered and as I glanced at Joe, knew he had got this message just as well as Sandy. He didn’t even protest as Carl led him over to the machine and submitted to its painful shocks.
And so we did each of the remaining ten of them, all sex criminals of one kind or another and now all stark naked, zapped nude so that they all looked like store dummies and would remain that way for the rest of their lives. They didn’t even have eyebrows or eyelashes and so looked quite weird.
All were now standing in the approved pose, hands up behind their necks, elbows pulled right back, bellies sucked in and staring straight ahead of them, not even glancing at either Carl or me, for if they relaxed that pose or allowed their eyes to move, they got a taser bolt to their cock and balls.
We used this part of their anatomies for punishment a lot as it was the seat of their crimes and in any case, at the end of their time with us, I intended that they would each be castrated - and by that I mean radically so. They would not only be losing their balls, but their cocks as well. No matter how well they responded to our treatment, they would be physically incapable of committing their crime again.
I didn’t talk to them at this stage. Once all of them were naked and nude (which latter term I use to describe someone who has been totally denuded of hair on their bodies), they were implanted with the device which was going to obviate the need for expensive security. It was a tiny device which I had had MediAid, a medical instruments firm, design and build for me.
It was really tiny, being in the shape and size of a small capsule but it packed a fair wallop. It contained a unit which generated electrical energy from the heat of the subject’s body and this fed a mass of micro-circuitry which acted as a GPS (global-positioning-system) unit and included a penal element as well. Thus, it told us (or more correctly our master computer) where each prisoner was down to the last centimetre, no matter where he was in the world. It also allowed the computer to punish him if he strayed out of the permitted envelope created for him that day, thus he would automatically be zapped if he moved out of it. And further, each of us carried a controller on our wrists that allowed us to globally or individually zap them if they erred.
Inserting them was simplicity itself. The company ha
d provided us with a special gun, which, when held against the scrotal wall at the point on the testicle we wished to attach it, made a tiny slit in the scrotum and inserted the pellet which was coated with perma-glue, allowing it to adhere permanently to the gland.
All I had to do was grasp the prisoner’s scrotum, squeeze it so that the gonad selected was tight against the scrotal skin, place the mouth of the gun against it and press the trigger. It took all of two seconds and it was done.
Once each of the twelve of them were implanted, my clerk then programmed each of them to our main-frame and to the controllers on our wrists and that was it. The whole process had taken no more than half an hour.
It took longer to test them for we wanted to ensure the GPS system was as accurate as the designers had advised and that the moment one of them moved out of his allowed envelope, he would be zapped.
It worked like a charm. Easy to use and to programme and the end results, well, phew! I was glad I wasn’t on the receiving end, though. If we thought the tasers were good; these implants were a hundred times better. Watching as these rapists and child molesters got zapped in their balls was about a good as it got, I thought. I also wondered if perhaps castrating them might not be such a good idea. Those implants would last a lifetime, so they had told us and they gave me an idea which I would take up with the company. What if we could implant another unit under the skin of their penises? These could be responsive to an erection and zap their cocks if they as much as twitched. That could be a salutary incentive not to allow libidinous thoughts to surface once they were released into society once more.
And, as my mind moved along this path, I thought that perhaps we could even cut down on the need for long punishment terms for them. A short, sharp lesson such as we were going to give them now and then the secondary implants would control their sex urges on the outside while the other units would continue to monitor them. If each ex-convict’s unit was attuned to the Department’s master computer via the world-wide satellite system, we would have detailed knowledge of each of their whereabouts, especially as it related to schools, etc (where paedophiles were concerned), or other suspicious locations in the case of other classes of criminal.
