by Mark Andrews
I sat at the desk while Pete did the stripping, or at least the first part of it and yes, it needed the tasers to cow them, at least for the first few. The others, observing the agony experienced by their predecessors, were more compliant and I grinned across at my counterpart (sitting beside me) as he slowly came to a realisation of how effective our methods were.
Once they were all naked (but not nude of course since the only depilation booth was back at our unit), we herded them out of the room and along to the prisoner loading bay into which we had backed our utility. I watched the ten as they stared up at Bob Drover’s frame, clearly understanding what it was for but not believing that we could be serious about securing them to it.
What was it? It was very simple actually. Just two sturdy steel RSJs (rolled steel joists) secured vertically at the front and rear of the tray and on its centre line. At the top of these and between them, another RSJ had been welded and from this, at intervals of half a metre, chains dangled each with a pair of thumb cuffs at their base. The chains varied in length to accommodate prisoners of different stature.
The loading bay enable them to walk straight onto the tray-top and Pete fished out a small wooden crate on which each one would stand to have his thumbs locked into the neoprene-lined cuffs (to allow blood to circulate into his thumbs). We estimated each man’s height and selected a chain so that when the crate was removed he would dangle with his toes just off the floor of the tray.
They didn’t like it. The implications were obvious. They were going to be taken like this out onto the street, stark naked and swaying back and forth, suspended only by their thumbs for all to see. But they didn’t resist. By now, each and every one of them was scared witless of our tasers and opted for the lesser of two evils. It was thus easy to secure all ten of them from the chains and then we took our leave of the manager and proceeded to the female prison.
Its officers chortled as we backed the ute into the delivery bay and stood around, staring up at the ten naked male prisoners in downright glee while we moved into the prison to the manager’s office. She too was in hearty approval of our methods and had the two females ready and waiting for us.
Pete took little time in stripping the pair of them: Jenny Arkright and Lola Bertram. The former was blonde, blue-eyed and athletic; Lola was black and distinctly muscular. Both of them were attractive (they had to be in their profession) and had good skin. I thought that notwithstanding that most of us officers were bisexual, this pair were going to hard-used and I would actively encourage this. As prostitutes they had sold their sex for profit. We were going to use them as and how we wanted and all day, every day at times.
They were secured in the remaining two chains and were situated between the males, some of whom now sported erections as they stared down at the two naked and very attractive female prisoners. I grinned as I thought of how they would react to the penile implants which would punish them every time they had a libidinous thought - well just about, anyway. They would certainly feel it if they allowed their cocks to engorge, even a tiny bit.
I had Pete drive us back to the facility as I wanted to observe the reactions of the public to the prisoners being moved in this so blatantly revealing manner. With the first lot, who had been brought to us anonymously in a prison van, that had not been possible, but as I wanted this new kind of punishment to be open and observable to the public at large, it now certainly was.
There were two reasons for this. The first, and most important, was to underline to the prisoners that they were now little more than animals, beasts of burden, and would be treated as such; the second, only a little less significant, was to show the people what happened to this class of prisoner under the new regime. And perhaps, that it might be extended to other classes as well in the future.
I didn’t need to look back over my shoulder to observe how the prisoners were reacting to their so barefaced naked exposure. I knew each and every one of them was utterly mortified by his or her totally naked exhibition. No, it was the public’s reaction I was more interested in.
And as we moved through the streets of Brisbane and its suburbs, I was pleased to note the almost universal approbation. There were claps and shouts of approval at every point. In fact, I didn’t see a single disapproving look.
Upon our arrival, they were all depilated nude, which operation I supervised as I wanted to assess each of them afresh once their body hair was gone.
Soon after that there was call from Dave Peters, the director-general. “It seems you were right, Will,” he began.
I grinned. “Thank you, sir. I was ninety-nine percent sure we had the public’s backing - you know the outcry against rape and other sexual crimes of late - well, I just wanted to show them that we were doing something about it. I believe the papers will have banner headlines tomorrow and I’m sure you will be in for plaudits from the minister.”
“Perhaps, but I will certainly inform him who is the brains behind it - and for heaven’s sake, stop calling me ‘sir’. It’s David from now on, alright?”
My grin widened. “Sure thing, David.”
We put them to work straight away. By now I had developed a host of chores as well as those already described to make their lives hell during their stay with us.
Endlessly scrubbing the stone or concrete floors of the facility was one. They had to get down on their hands and knees on the hard floor and scrub with heavy scrubbing brushes, non-stop, for hours at a time, while their knees and the tired muscles of their arms and shoulders screamed at them. But there was no let-up. Here we used either the bullwhip, the so feared, long-tailed weapon that has inspired fear in slaves and prisoners for centuries; or the signal whip, a much shorter, stiffer instrument which is easier to use but at a much closer range. This whip is sometimes called, ‘old snake’ from its resemblance to a viper. It has a thickish handle which is stiff but then tapers down to a fairly thin lash at the end. It isn’t all that flexible however, being oily rather than loose. If you move the handle, the tail follows it rather languidly but applied to the body or limbs of its victim, it wraps itself around it and leaves a fearsome mark. It is feared just as much as the bullwhip in the hands of our guards for they practise with both types every day - and in full sight of the prisoners toiling at whatever task is assigned to them this day.
Another of my inventions which they hated is the treadmill. This is not your home exercise variety, however. Bob Drover built it into one wall of the generator room where was situated the massive capstan. It was actually an old steel steam tank which we found lying around the old factory.
Bob is a master of ingenuity when it comes to adapting old stuff and as this tank was long and not so wide, it was perfect for what I had in mind. At one of our weekly conferences, I had mentioned I would like a treadmill as a counter to the capstan and Bob’s fertile mind latched on to the tank and soon had it installed in a pit he had dug against one wall of the room. The pit actually went under the wall so that only one quadrant of the tank, the top outer one, was visible once it was installed. Bob had welded bearings onto the top and bottom of the tank and when it was turned on its side, these fitted into the journals he installed at the sides of the pit. He had also welded brackets to the outside of the tank’s surface which, once planks had been bolted to them, formed the steps the prisoners would have to mount to force the tank to turn. He had told me the tank wasn’t hollow but was filled with an internal array of pipes and these would act as baffles to ensure the water inside it didn’t just stay still as the tank revolved but would provide a heavy resistance to the efforts of the prisoners.
When I inspected it, we had Sandy Blake, Jan O’Connor’s rapist, and Gary Wilson, the paedophile, plus three other prisoners mount it, five being the maximum it could take. Their thumbs were cuffed behind their backs and collars, dangling from chains mounted on lugs bolted to the wall above their places, were fastened around their neck
s.
All it took to get them moving was a crack of the signal whip, used exclusively here as the bullwhip’s tail was much too long to be effective in the confined space, against Sandy’s torso. He screamed and immediately stepped up onto the next plank, thus causing the tank to begin to move, forcing the others to follow suit.
Bob had attached a gear drive to one end of the unit and this actuated another, smaller generator which while not as profitable as the big unit attached to the capstan, would still help our power bills.
Carl was wielding the whip and as he was our most adept flogger, now proceeded to goad the other four into a maximum effort. The rest of us there watched in some glee as the five of them now stepped smartly up the now quite rapidly revolving drum while Bob watched the meters on the wall which indicated voltage and power actually generated. He said he was pleased at the outcome and therefore, so was I.
The sight of the five of them stepping smartly up and up every second or so was just as impressive as watching them push against the capstan bars, although it was a quite different exercise of course.
Friday rolled around and first thing I had a conference in my office with the principal players in the drama we were going to act out for Jan’s benefit.
“The first part, after a cup of coffee in here, will be her inspection of the prisoners on the plough. Let’s make it a real production, gentlemen. Work them hard and make them sweat - and put Sandy on the left front position, please. Jack.”
“Sure thing, Will.”
“Then, when I judge her losing interest in that scene, but probably after an hour or so, he may be removed from the yoke and brought inside for his ritual flogging. As our best whipper, Carl, you will be officiating here and of course you have already booked your place as his rapist, too.
“We will use the signal whip for his flogging as it cracks the best and in any case, is best indoors for the bullwhip, while perhaps more spectacular and more famous, will have already been shown off to advantage with the plough.
“I think a round dozen strokes, each separated by a five minute break will give her an hour to appreciate his pain and humiliation. And then it will be time for you to rape him, Carl. You still want to do it?”
“I sure do, Will. At least this first time. The others will have their turns but this one I’d like to do myself.”
I grinned. “It’s yours. But as Carl says, gentlemen, I’d like to use any of you others too, in the future.”
Every officer there indicated his eagerness to participate in this rather salacious part of our punishments of these criminals and I nodded. “OK, any questions or suggestions?”
There were none so they dispersed to get ready for the visit.
I was on hand to meet Jan and Dr Franks and was pleased to see Jan seemed almost eager for the day to begin. I escorted them to my office first where we had morning tea and then took them over a lightning tour of the facility at which they both seemed impressed.
“But where are the prisoners, Mr Chalmers?” she asked.
I smiled. “Oh you’re going to see them right now, Miss O’Connor - and I think you are going to be surprised - and hopefully impressed at what you see.”
“I hope so. That scumbag really hurt me, Mr Chalmers.”
“I know he did and I can guess how much. But what you are going to see today will perhaps help to assuage some of that hurt...”
She didn’t say anything to that for we were now emerging from the back of the building and in the distance, we could see all twenty-four of the prisoners, stark naked, and nude of all hair from tip to toe, yoked as beasts of burden to the plough and dragging it at a fair clip through the soil, egged on by Jack Endicott and Pete Williams, each expertly wielding the long bullwhip on the naked flesh of those they judged to be malingering.
Jan uttered a small cry of glee and took off at almost a trot towards the group, while Dr Franks and I followed, each giving the other a small smile of hope that she seemed to be responding to her visit.
As she approached, I could see she was searching for Sandy. I had guessed she would, which was why I had placed him in the most prominent position in the team - front left.
As she reached them, she spotted him and made a bee-line for his position and then stopped, staring in utter satisfaction at the sight of him straining with every muscle in his body to keep the plough moving at its now very smart rate through the soil. With twenty-four of them at it, the task was a lot easier of course but Bob also ensured that the workload was adequate to make them sweat and strain while Jack and Pete were constantly cracking their whips in the air above the prisoners’ heads (and onto their naked flesh if they suspected one of them was not giving his or her all, for yes, the two females were part of the team, too. They would be worked just as hard as the men, up to their level of strength and stamina, anyway.)
She walked beside him, staring avidly at his so naked body - nude from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, you will remember, sweating freely, his muscular body gleaming but then he faltered as he perceived his former victim beside him.
Jack was quick to respond, his whip now cracking loudly and its tail wrapping itself around his upper body, the lash at the end biting hard against his left nipple.
He screamed and faltered even more and so Jack flicked the whip off his body and applied it again, this time lower down so the lash caught the very tip of his cock and now he really howled, leapt into the air (as much as the yoke allowed, anyway) and then really leaned into it, straining with all his might, so that his splendid muscles really stood out, quivering and cording, showing the effort he was now exerting.
Dr Franks and I strolled along behind her and he remarked that at last she seemed to be showing an interest in things - but especially Sandy. “Wait till she sees him flogged, Arthur. That should really liven her up and following that, Carl is going to rape him... If that doesn’t spark a full recovery, I’ll be very surprised...”
“I hope you’re right. Mind you, the profession isn’t all behind us. There are those who think it might even send her into deeper depression...”
“I don’t think there’s much chance of that, just look at her!”
He grinned as we turned to watch her. She was now right up next to Sandy, jeering at him and asking who was suffering now. “I agree with you, Will. Er, how many strokes of the whip will you give him?”
“Oh, only a dozen but it is the way we are going to do it - and where - that will jerk her right out of her malaise, I believe.”
He didn’t say anything more but he grinned at me and then we moved up closer to Jan, watching her as she so clearly delighted in Sandy’s punishment. We followed along for two rows, one up and one down again but then I asked her if she would like to see him whipped. I had discussed what we were going to do to him with Arthur Franks but he had decided it would be best if we surprised her with the events of the day.
She was therefore both startled by the invitation - but also clearly pleased. I didn’t tell her how we were going to administer the whipping, deciding that too would come as a nice surprise for her. We watched as Jack ordered the team to stop and then unhitched Sandy and took him up the main building.
Pete then saw to the others who would now be moved to the capstan and the treadmill. Jan watched Sandy go with an almost enigmatic smile on her face. I guessed she was sorry to see this part of her tour end, but was also anticipating the next.
But we stayed and watched Pete form the rest of the prisoners up into an almost military-style line and then march them up to the facility. We followed in a rather more leisurely manner and watched them disappear into the bowels of the building.
I had dawdled here as I wanted to give Jack time to get Sandy ready but I thought that would be now and so we moved off to the punishment room.
Here, prisoners were more ceremoniously punish
ed either as part of their correction or for errors made whilst here. This time, he was being punished for his rape, not for any fault committed here.
We entered the room and now Jan gasped as she beheld him ready for punishment. He was suspended upside down between two sturdy, floor-to-ceiling studs, each thirty centimetres square. His ankles were encased in Velcro manacles from which ropes led up to pulleys at the tops of the studs. As they were three metres apart his legs were very widely spread indeed and he would already be in severe pain.
His hands were left free. I wanted her to savour his contortions as the pain of his flogging bit into his very soul.
Carl had dressed appropriately for the occasion, wearing only the briefest loincloth around his middle but a leather and chain-mail helmet which hid his face almost completely. That allowed Jan to concentrate on his truly fabulous body, whose athletic muscles now flexed wonderfully as he manipulated the signal whip back and forth, its tip moving almost lazily through the air while Sandy moaned in fear at the coming pain.
And then the most wonderful smile broke out on her face. Arthur grinned in relief and even I felt pleased that I had been right in proposing this form of therapy for her and others in similar straits.
We offered her a chair but she declined (with thanks) saying she would rather move around him and watch from various angles as he was punished.
I nodded to Carl who now moved round in front of the naked and exposed Sandy, drew the whip back over his right shoulder and then lashed it forward, not too hard, but enough that the tip landed on his balls, right between them actually.
His reaction was spectacular, to say the least. First, every muscle in his body went rigid while sweat broke out all over it. Next, he screamed, long and loud and the scream went on and on, marking the agony he was feeling. Finally, he arched his body forward, then back, then sideways and around, trying to find some relief from the torture which I was sure now pervaded every fibre of his young body.
