A New Kind of Punishment

by Mark Andrews

  The sleeping tables were set up in the middle of the room and the duty officer could walk right around each of them. I encouraged them all to feel and fondle the prisoners without any compunction at all.

  “Shaming and humiliating them is all part of the deal, gentlemen. If their bodies appeal, feel them down - and even if they don’t, do it anyway. If you felt like it, climb up on a table, lift its occupant’s legs onto your shoulders and rape him. The others won’t see what you are doing as the pillories will hide it from most of them, but they will hear your actions and his screams and know that they might be next.”

  I see I have wandered off my topic, which was the building, but perhaps you now have some idea of its set-up and we can return to my night with Carl. We made no attempt to hide what we were going to do. I had made it clear from the outset that as long as harmony was maintained in our little community, they could make and break liaisons as they wished and since we were all at least bisexual, no-one would think ill of them.

  Accordingly, after dinner that night (we had a succulent roast lamb, roast potatoes, carrot, pumpkin and baby onions, green peas and a rich gravy - the prisoners were fed their mush in a metal trough and they had to eat it on their hands and knees, like dogs) Carl and I retired to my rooms and there I undressed him (but stayed clothed myself as I wanted to test out my favourite fantasy on him. If he responded as I hoped, good and well; if not, then I would proceed down more ‘normal’ paths).

  He let me do it, standing still but moving his limbs and body as required. And then, when he was naked at last and I stared in unfeigned adoration at his fabulous physique, he dropped to his knees, clasped his hands up behind his head and then, after looking up at me once with eyes that were clearly adoring, dropped it to kneel there, head bowed in the position of a slave!

  This was what I had dreamed about every night since first taking him into my unit but I hadn’t dared to think that he might really be a latent slave - not this masterful, handsome, competent prison officer who was now my deputy as manager of the facility.

  But then he spoke and it was not in his usual confident, ringing tones but those of an abject slave. “Master, I have been bad. I believe you will wish to cane me for my sins,” he said softly, slowly.

  I stared down at him in a near agony of delight that all my dreams were coming to fruition, but then I spoke, clearly and with the authority of a slave-owner. “Yes you have, boy and yes you shall. Clear the coffee table and lay yourself down on it. There will be ten strokes to your buttocks, each very hard.”

  “Yes, master, and thank you for my correction.”

  I didn’t answer that but strode off to my bedroom to bring out a nice meaty rattan cane already placed into its handle (which made it easier to hold and to use) and then came back to find him lying on the table, his arms up above his head and his feet spread out to the bottom corners of the table. It was one of those very long affairs now in vogue and was also very sturdy.

  But then I thought he would look even better if he was secured to it and returned to my room for the restraints. You see I had, over the years, acquired a full complement of sex toys associated with my fetish and chains and manacles were included in these. The four I brought out now had Velcro manacles for the wrists and ankles and leather straps with buckles on the ends, allowing them to be fastened around just about anything.

  As I came up to his head and he saw the straps, his eyes positively glowed. “Oh yes, master, I will need to be tightly restrained during the punishment,” he said and I grinned as I secured each limb in turn.

  And now, as I stared down at his so perfect body from its muscular arms, boulder-like shoulders, v-shaped back with its own pattern of muscles all over it and the back of his muscular calves and thighs, I drooled, well figuratively, anyway.

  But mostly, my eyes were on his buttocks. They were perfect, too, in my eyes. They were prominently rounded - boyish is the expression usually used - and were narrow and heavily dimpled on their outer sides. They also both reached up into the small of his back. In other words they were beautifully muscular and, like the rest of his body, their skin was velvet-like and smooth as cream.

  I was now ready. This was something I had wanted to do since puberty and to be able to do it on a dream-boat like Carl was a huge plus. Of course I hadn’t - done it, I mean. It had all been in my dreams, but nevertheless, I knew exactly what I had to do.

  Of course I would be attuned to his reactions. I knew instantly that he was a bottom and it sounded as if he was strongly masochistic, but I would react according to how he responded to the cane. I would deliver the first stroke very hard to see if he was as keen on being caned as he professed. I hoped so for I really wanted to lay into those delectable cheeks, now wobbling and tensing slightly as he anticipated the pain to come.

  I raised the cane and then brought it down, as hard as I could across both cheeks then stepped back to see what he would do.

  It was astonishing, actually. He didn’t utter a peep but his limbs pulled and strained at the very secure straps while his body writhed and corded - especially of course his bottom cheeks as they attempted to cope with the dreadful pain I had inflicted on them. If he had been white, his flesh would have paled, then reddened and then a welt would have formed. His skin colour was a rich dark chocolate and didn’t pale all that much, however the welt certainly formed and I now reached in to caress it. He did utter a sort of sob at the touch of my fingers and I asked him softly, if it was all too much and he wanted to be released.

  “Oh no, master. I need the full ten strokes - and make them harder, please.”

  I grinned, at least to myself. Very well. He was clearly made of strong stuff and so I moved back in and caned his buttocks again, this one a couple of centimetres below the first stroke. Again he kept quite silent and even his contortions were not as evident this time.

  The third stroke brought a renewed activity and so did each of the remaining seven strokes but he stayed utterly silent right through them all. And even when I released him from the restraints, he got up and then knelt before me once more, thanking me for his ‘correction’as he called it.

  But then I lamented my actions. “Oh blast,” I said, at which he looked up at me, asking a silent question. I answered it. “I was going to rape the living daylights out of you, slave, now I won’t be able to. Your bottom is much too marked...”

  He grinned. “I would be honoured if you would deign to rape my bottom, master. The added pain will only serve to help correct my slothful ways...”

  What a mouthful! But not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he then stood up, led me into my bedroom, undressed me and then lifted me into his powerful arms and laid me on my bed (which he had first turned down, of course).

  And then we made love to each over for what seemed like hours. And, as expected, it was a loving that far and away surpassed anything I had ever done with anyone else in the world, male or female. It was well after midnight when we finally lay back, side by side and just held hands. But then he told me he loved me.

  I reached over and kissed him - hard. “And I, you, Carl,” but then I looked at the clock beside my bed. “Hell, we were going to go along and see how Jack was doing...?”

  “Well, why not now? We only need to pull on some outer clothes...?”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  It took seconds to put on t-shirts and shorts and slip into thongs and then we were at the door of the prisoner’s sleeping room. We moved in quietly, not because we wanted to check up on Jack Endicott, but so as not to disturb him if he was ‘busy’ with one of the prisoners.

  He was. Jack is a twenty-eight year old with a body almost as good as Carl’s and an insatiable sexual appetite, as we all knew and ribbed him about. But we had all tried him out over the weeks we had been there and we all knew how good he was in bed.

  Now he was naked an
d was kneeling up on the hard boards of one of the prisoner’s tables, his shoulders under the man’s ankles and he was raping him for all his worth. He hadn’t chosen Sandy Blake, no doubt sensible that that young man’s backside was probably still throbbing violently from Carl’s rape of him earlier. The prisoner he had chosen was a little older than Sandy, at twenty-four, but he was just as well-built and was certainly a more handsome specimen.

  This boy, name of Gary Wilson, had a penchant for young girls, however, one of the worst crimes there is, and we would be giving him a lot of grief for his sins over the next few months. Jack had obviously decided to get in first and as we moved up closer to him, we grinned at him in approval.

  He nodded at us but was too engrossed in raping the boy’s bottom to say anything.

  We had noted the other prisoners were all awake and listening silently to the boy’s screams as his virgin anus was being ravished by the huge muscular officer, but just then he came, pulling out of the boy’s backside, allowing his body to slip back down onto the table and spraying it with his seed, which jetted out of his straining cock in great dollops.

  “Well done, Jack,” I said. “Couldn’t have picked a better man to rape than this scumbag,” I added, now staring down at Gary’s tear-stained face and the utter terror that now marked it and pretended to gloat over his distress.

  But then we left to return to my bed and we then slept in each other’s arms all night.

  Chapter 3

  First thing next morning, I rang Jan O’Connor’s psychiatrist, Dr Arthur Franks, and reported on our rape of Sandy the previous night and suggested if he was still in favour of Jan observing him getting his comeuppance, as it were, the next few days might be appropriate.

  He agreed and subject to her concurrence, made it a date for the following Friday, four days hence.

  In the meantime, while Carl and the other officers kept up the pressure on our first twelve prisoners, I put in motion the procedures to transfer the next dozen of the thirty we had selected, this time including a couple of females, both of them professional kinky prostitutes and each convicted of an overzealous deviant attack on their male clients which had left the pair of them with permanent injuries (one of whom nearly died from loss of blood) as a result of the girls going far beyond what their clients had expected, for yes, women too can be guilty of serious assaults and the pair I selected were going to be subject to the same or similar treatments which we had already commenced for the males we had to this point.

  I hadn’t needed to physically inspect them. By this time the very detailed electronic files the department maintained over each and every inmate were quite sufficient for me to make my judgement and all it then took was a transfer request to the manager of the prisoner’s current correctional facility and they would be on their way.

  I also rang my friend, Dr Wayne Childs, head of the Research and Development unit of MediAid, the company which had developed the tiny testicular implants for me and asked him about an additional penile model designed to prevent an erection. He was enthusiastic and gave me just the answer I had hoped for: “Sure thing, Will. And as for the circuitry, well it should be quite simple...”

  He paused there and then asked me if he could ring me back. We made small talk for a few minutes and then I rang off. Wayne had been a friend since our medical student days at university but we had sort-of drifted apart when I had branched into psychiatry and he had turned to medical instrument research, eventually landing the plum job at MediAid.

  He called back within the hour. “Will, I’ve been thinking about your needs and yes, we could make a tiny unit which could be inserted under the fraenum of the glans of the penis in much the same manner as the testicular model. It would be powered the same as the other unit, have sensors that would detect the inflow of blood which causes an erection and its electrodes could be situated on the ends of the capsule itself. But as this one will only have the one function it can be really very small and very much cheaper and it will result in the prisoner being disciplined by a very painful shock to the most sensitive part of the penis at the first sign of an engorgement. What d’you think?”

  “I think it would be great. Any idea yet of the cost, Wayne?”

  “No, not precisely, but as I say it will be cheaper than the GPS model. Anyway, leave it with me for a day or so, would you? I’ll get back to you with a firm price then.”

  I thanked him and rang off, well pleased with the call. I then called Dave Peters, the D-G, to apprise him of this development and he immediately saw the advantages.

  “We would be able to control sex offenders of all types for the rest of their lives, Will. But furthermore, I’ve been thinking that this whole idea of yours of electronic implants into offenders’ bodies might well revolutionise penology throughout the world...”

  I observed that I had had the same thoughts and he went on to say that he wouldn’t bring it up with the minister yet but as soon as I had confirmation that it was a goer and the price is acceptable and he would take it up the line.

  I agreed and then sat back to think over once more the possibilities this development would offer penology in general. They were enormous - say the government agreed to implant every felon convicted of a serious offence. We would be able to monitor his or her movements constantly and even program ‘no-go’ areas into the testicular unit with an automatic shock whenever he approached a place he wasn’t supposed to be!

  I then thought of female prisoners and how they might be applied to them. ,I felt sure the units might be cauterised or glued to the clitoris or some other ultra sensitive part of her vagina and serve the same purpose. There didn’t seem to be much point in a female version of the penile implant but that could wait, anyway, and if it proved to be necessary, we would deal with it then

  But all that was in the future. Right now we had to prove the efficacy of my unit.

  I was going to arrange for the next batch of prisoners to be transferred immediately but then I had another thought. Why not start their shame and humiliation even before they arrived!

  We had a tray-top utility truck as part of our transport fleet. It would be a simple matter for Bob Driver to erect a certain type of frame onto its tray and then we could go and collect our new prisoners ourselves. I grinned as I thought how they were going to react to my latest idea.

  Of course I had to run that by the D-G, too, but while I could almost see his raised eyebrows as I described the modified truck and my idea to him, he gave me the go-ahead and I then called Bob Drover and asked him up to my office.

  “You really serious, Will?” he said grinning across my desk at me.

  “I sure am, Bob. They are going to learn from the moment we pick them up that the old molly-coddling of prisoners like them is a thing of the past.”

  “How d’you think the public will take to it?”

  “They will be ecstatic. The media has been screaming for years that we have to do something about serious crime and especially crimes of violence. This will spell out loud and clear that we mean business!”

  “It sure will,” he said fervently and then got up to go and start work on the truck. He had said he could have it ready in two days so I then rang the two prisons where our next batch would be coming from and made arrangements to pick up the eight males and two females then.

  And then, well pleased with my morning, I went off to inspect our current batch.

  Carl had them on the generator capstan and as I entered, I stared goggle-eyed at the effort they were putting into the work. They weren’t walking any faster for the generator has to spin at the correct speed to make the required voltage (although small variations were handled by its electronics). No, he had obviously increased the current load on it which in turn increased the wattage they were producing and as a result, they were now all straining far harder than yesterday and I asked him (in a whisper)
how long they had been working at that level.

  He grinned. “All morning...” He looked at the clock up on the wall and then added it had been two hours - non-stop. “I doubt they will last much longer, Will,” he said then (also in a whisper) but let’s really exhaust them at everything we put them to. Once we begin to bring in the public, we can add whips to the electronic goads we’re using now and the spectacle will be electric to say the least of it.”

  I agreed. “Okay, keep them at it until they drop; then we’ll give them an hour to recover and then put them back on the plough for the rest of the day.”

  I then briefed him about my discussions with Wayne and the Director-General and he too was excited about the new model of implant. His eyes sparkled as he thought of the possibilities and I knew then we were in sync on this (and, I was to find out over the next few weeks, on most other things as well).

  I took Pete Williams with me to collect the new batch of prisoners.

  I would like to have had Carl but as my deputy he needed to take over from me when I was absent and in any case I needed to be careful not to show him any favouritism because of our newfound love for one another. Pete was a great bloke too, of course. All my staff were. But he was exceptionally so. He was handsome to a tee with blond curly hair and brilliant blue eyes and his body was almost as good as Carl’s. He too had followed our example and had depilated his body - Carl and I had actually started a trend here and most of my men eventually did their bodies (which pleased me no end for I don’t like hair on the human body at all). Not that I expressed that opinion to them. Their actions had been quite voluntary.

  Anyway, we went and picked up the males first. There were ten of them and I had asked the prison manager to have them in a room similar to that in which I had stripped our first dozen. He had grinned and asked if he could stay and observe - to which I readily agreed, of course.