by Mark Andrews
Before it did, however, the first shock cut in and we watched in varying degrees of glee as Sandy screamed and his beautifully muscled body squirmed and twisted in near-agony, its muscles cording and straining as he tried to come to grips with the electric shocks inside his rectum.
It was only a few minutes after that, that the second stem reached his testicles and began to wind itself around them and then right around the shaft of his penis. As it reached the crown the tendril-like shoot appeared out of the stem, curled back on itself and sought out his urethral meatus, then, finding it without hesitation, simply inserted itself up his penis.
If his contortions before had been delicious, now they really took off, every one of his quite splendid muscles straining to their limit, standing out in great cords, quivering, sweating and straining and sending my cock into an instant hard-on. As I glanced around at the other visitors, I was relieved to see each of them seemed to be in the same boat as I was.
But most of all, I was really pleased to see Jan revelling in Sandy’s distress. Oh yes, this was very clearly the right treatment for her.
We all moved closer to him now, watching with interest as the third stem emerged from the plant and wound its way up his body to his nipples, dividing on cue and firmly attaching its sucker-like heads to his nipples.
The plant now seemed really alive, its three stems waving and, where it wound around a part of his body, tightening and loosening in waves. I could see the whole thing seemed to be electrified and while I know this all sounds weird, Sandy was truly behaving as if he was in the throes of very painful shocks to various parts of his muscular body.
Strangely, though, his penis, although it must have been in severe straits from the pressure of the stem coiling around its girth and, even more, from the electrified tendril right up his urethra, was now violently erect and even throbbing.
As Jan moved up close to him, she asked if she could touch it. I tried it first and then smiled. “Of course, be my guest.”
She reached out and grasped it and then grinned as she felt the shocks passing through her hand. To her they were mere tingles, but to him, they must have felt like mains power and inside his body, they would have seemed to be of an even higher voltage.
But he felt her holding him there and as I watched his eyes, I noted a change. To that point he had been a braggart, scornful of everyone around him and even of us who had been tormenting him unmercifully. Even through the whip and other tortures we had inflicted on him, he had seemed to scorn us and what we were doing to him.
Now though, the scorn was gone. In its place there seemed to be a softening in his brown eyes and then, as his face turned towards Jan, there was a definite expression of contrition - even though he was still under severe pain from the shocks and whatever else the plant was doing to him in the way of chemical secretions to his body.
I realised then that it was working. That the symbiosis between it and him was very real: it was deriving its sustenance from what it was doing to his body and in turn was changing his outlook on life and on those around him.
I whispered as much to Dave Peters who whispered back that he too had noted the change. So had Wayne. As for Jan, she was far too engrossed in his comeuppance to have observed any change in his demeanour. That was alright, however. I was concerned with her cure, not her clinical understanding of what was happening to him.
Her cure was very real. Arthur Franks said as much to me and I had to agree. She was positively bubbling with excitement now as she stared at his fine body undergoing perhaps the worst pain he had ever felt in his short life. I think his unattractive face had also improved, even if only a little. He was still no matinee idol but he definitely looked a lot better than the scowling thug he had before this treatment.
It was now an hour or so after the plant had started work on his body and it had apparently taken its fill from him for the stems began to withdraw and to wither as they did so, eventually shrinking back to three straggly remnants of the former strong stems which had worked their magic on his body.
He felt them leaving and now ceased his so erotic struggles and actually smiled down at us as we stared up at his now almost good-looking face. The only part of him that evidenced what he had just gone through was his cock. It was still rampantly erect but even it now began to wilt and he hung there in the St Andrew’s Cross position, staring down at Jan.
“Miss, I am truly sorry for what I done. If it would help you, I’d be very willing for you to cane and whip me - every day if you like...”
I stared from him to her; to Dave and Wayne and then back to Sandy. I was about to speak but she forestalled me. “Yes, I think it will be very appropriate for me to both cane and whip you, Sandy, but I feel that once for each will be sufficient.”
She turned to me. “Would that be alright, Dr Chalmers?” she said innocently.
I grinned. “Very much alright, Miss Connors. Perhaps tomorrow and a week after that? We will have him ready for you...”
It was all very satisfactory, as Dave announced to me in my office a few minutes later. “Now, I think you said this, er, ceremony, can’t be repeated for a month. Is that right?”
“So I’m led to believe and glanced at Wayne.”
“That’s my understanding, too.”
“In that case, we will need to acquire or grow some more plants...?”
And that’s where it all came undone.
Wayne contacted his friend who said no more could be had from South America. It seemed they grew only in the one location and worse still were very hard to raise at all. They couldn’t be grown from cuttings and they issued one seed every year (and sometimes at greater intervals). This seed could only be propagated in the high country of the Andes (don’t ask me why, I’m not a horticulturist) and most failed to grow at all.
When I passed this message on to Dave Peters he said he had been talking to the State’s Chief Scientist who had informed him their knowledge of the plant was the same and that research to find how it worked: the electrical stimulation of its victim’s body, for example, and the chemicals it secreted which in turn triggered him to secrete other chemicals in turn, was so complex, it would take many, many years for them to discover the whole process so synthetic drugs were not on, either.
It seemed we had just the one plant. We could process a dozen criminals in a year and the life of the plant was projected to be only ten to twenty years, a maximum of two hundred-plus, so we were, for practical purposes, back to my implants and the rigid discipline I had created at our facility.
Research into the plant both medical and horticultural would continue for it truly was miraculous. Sandy’s behaviour from the moment we let him down was nothing short of that. He was clearly a changed young man and I am an expert at uncovering guile.
His conduct at the subsequent caning and whipping was good evidence of that.
For the caning, I decided that a Singapore-type frame would be the best way to secure him although there was no centre bar to stop his middle sagging inwards as Jan applied the strokes; nor was there going to be the pillow-type protection for his back. I would make sure Jan applied the cane only to his buttocks but I wanted her to savour to the fullest her personal punishment of the young criminal.
This time there was just the pair of them and me there. I escorted her into the room which had just the frame in it and seated her, then went to fetch Sandy. As Dave had suggested, we were now treating him as ‘normal’ criminals were - except for one thing: he remained naked - strangely at his own request.
Anyway, as we walked along to the room, he told me he was actually looking forward to this punishment. “Not that I won’t scream or that the pain won’t be bad. But I feel that being punished by the girl I so brutally raped will help me atone for my dreadful act, as well as her, of course.”
I looked at him carefully. “You really mean that,
don’t you, boy?”
“Yes, Dr Chalmers, I do. I feel I actually need to suffer pain to make up for that awful pain, mental pain mostly, I suppose, that I inflicted on her.”
“Well, you’re going to get it now, boy. The cane hurts a lot and you’re going to get the full twenty strokes, you know?”
“I know. I hope I won’t scream too bad, but perhaps if I do, she will feel some relief...?”
“Perhaps,” I said noncommittally.
We reached the room then and he walked in first, went straight up to Jan and knelt before her. “Please make them very hard, Miss,” he said softly, his eyes on the floor in front of him.
But she raised them to hers and smiled sweetly at him. “Oh I will, Sandy, you can be sure of that.”
With that he rose and moved straight over to the frame, raising his hands so I could lock his wrists to the manacles, then knelt down to pull his feet wide apart and lock his ankles to the base of the A-frame and then finally to pull on the rope (reeved through a pulley system) to stretch him up taut.
I rose, moved over to the rack on which was displayed a dozen or so canes, all of them rattan and about a metre long, selected one and brought it over to Jan. “Make them all count, Miss O’Connor,” I said, quite unnecessarily.
She smiled and nodded as she took the cane from me and then took up her position behind and to the left of his curvaceous buttocks. As I watched the scene, I felt that familiar hardening in my pants. I had taken precautions this time, however, and it didn’t show.
She had obviously been practising, for her fore-swing and the delivery itself were both most professional, the tip of the cane making a banshee whistle as it accelerated through the air - and landed right on the crown of both buttock cheeks. Even her end play was perfect: she snapped the cane back, rather than continuing it through like the Singaporean caners do for I had discovered that it is this action that causes the dreadful wounds which result from their canings when more than a half-dozen strokes are involved.
Snapping the cane back hurts dreadfully but it doesn’t lacerate the skin.
His reaction was predictable. His torso arched in to a bow in response to the blow and at the same time, he uttered a grunt which is fairly normal from what I had read and seen of Singaporean canings. That grunt would develop into a scream with further strokes, but we could wait.
She strolled around the frame now, standing in front of him with the cane held out in front of her in her hands, but then she took it in her right and reached out with its tip to the underside of his genitals, tapping it up, fairly gently against his testicles. “Perhaps, Dr Chalmers, the remaining strokes ought to be applied to these,” she mused. I didn’t reply. I knew her question was rhetorical and that she had no intention of really asking for this.
I moved round to stand beside her though and grinned as I looked up at Sandy’s face. It was a picture. I think he was trying to imagine the appalling pain a smart blow of that cane to his balls would bring about.
But she removed the cane from them and moved back behind him, now applying stroke number two even harder, at which his grunt became a small scream, which over each successive blow became louder and more strident. By then tenth stroke he was struggling equally as much as he had under the plant’s ministrations and his screams were full-blown cries of very real agony.
And yet he never once pleaded with her (or me) to stop, even for a respite. She applied each stroke with a five minute break, not for his benefit but to allow the pain of each to properly sink in and so that the pain of each was cumulative. I watched with her as she applied each stroke in a pattern of tramlines and then crossed them in diagonals (which would add significantly to his agony).
In between each stroke we wandered around to face him, staring up at his splendid naked body now enduring the ravages of an old-fashioned caning at the hands of his victim.
He did indeed look splendid. His body had always been erotically attractive in its athleticism but his face, with its scornful expression had taken away any charm he might have had. Over the last week that had changed. I have already reported the almost instant change which occurred during the plant’s ‘treatment’, well that had continued on, softening its hard lines, making his eyes softer and his expression very much more amenable. Right now, although it was showing his agony, beneath that, we could both see a very much more appealing young man.
Jan remarked on it. “He looks almost human, Will,” she said softly. (I had asked her to call me Will and I now called her Jan, except in Sandy’s hearing, anyway).
“He does, Jan,” I whispered back. “That plant really is quite remarkable.”
“What a pity it’s not going to be of general use to you, eh?”
“Indeed.”
She carried the punishment through to the end, the twentieth stroke being as powerful as the first and he was a right mess at the end of it. He had just enough strength though to thank her for his punishment and then he passed out.
She was instantly solicitous and I stared at her in amazement. “You’re not falling for him, are you?” I asked incredulously.
She laughed. “Heavens, no, but he has changed, hasn’t he? And no, don’t ask. I still want to whip him next week if that’s still okay?”
“Of course,” I said, very relieved at her response. “Had you wondered how you are going to whip him?”
“I had. I assume it will be his back?”
“No, it won’t. We are going to suspend him upside down and with his legs stretched out wide and tight. You are going to whip his genitals with a special whip which will hurt them horribly - but not damage them. Sound okay?”
She grinned. “You better believe it. And now I’ll have something even better to look forward to.”
That whipping was utterly magnificent.
Even Sandy said so. Once he had recovered from the caning, he told me he was now waiting with dread, but also with a weird excitement for his whipping.
I eyed him carefully. “Are you saying you have become masochistic, boy?”
“Oh no, Dr Chalmers. Not at all. I still feel the pain but when it is her giving it to me, it seems to wash away this new guilt I feel every time I think of what I done to her.”
“When did that guilt show itself?”
“When I was being attacked by that awful plant.” I already knew that but it was good to have him confirm it. Now he looked at me again. “D’you think she’d consent to keep punishing me until I feel good again, sir?”
“No,” I said sternly. “This isn’t about you, boy. If she feels sufficiently cured when she has whipped you and doesn’t want to ever to see you again, that’s what will be. On the other hand, if she wishes to continue on with your punishments then that’s what will happen, too.”
He subsided then and hung his head. I marvelled yet again at the transformation in him.
Once more he submitted more than willingly to be suspended upside down as I had intimated to Jan and once more she watched in glee as his body was prepared for the punishment.
Then with his genitals now dangling down his so muscly stomach, I handed her the whip. Once more we used a signal whip. As already described, it tapers from the fairly thick handle to the tip. The handle is rigid but the remaining metre-length is oily rather than loose, if one moves the handle forward, say, the tail follows it rather languidly. It is perfect for this job but I told her it wasn’t necessary to apply it hard.
“It will hurt him agonisingly by quite gentle strokes, Jan.”
She nodded, took the whip and moved up close to him. His hands were free but he let then dangle towards the floor. She pulled the tail back over her shoulder and then brought it smartly forward, laying the last ten centimetres right over his well-displayed testicles - at which he screamed, arched his body up (and she stepped back to avoid him), twisting his torso back
and forth and crying out in his pain.
He put on a wonderful display for us but then he relaxed and let his body down again. There were to be only ten strokes this time and I think she softened them after that first blow. However each elicited a new scream of agony from him together with a wonderful display of his so athletically muscular body and thighs into the bargain.
He didn’t pass out or even near that condition this time but when we let him down, he thanked her and begged her to continue with his punishments.
“You want me to punish you, boy?”
“Yes, please, Miss. But harder. I need to feel real agony each time if I am to feel a proper, what is it, er, atonement, for my sin against you.”
She looked at me in astonishment but then smiled and shrugged. “Well if he wants it, who am I to say no...”
Chapter 5
We continued to keep Sandy apart from the other prisoners and, as predicted, his reform seemed total and permanent. As I said earlier, I am skilful in detecting the least guile or subterfuge in a prisoner and I was convinced his reform was genuine.
I knew then that we couldn’t just accept that this plant, whose botanical name is unpronounceable but which we dubbed Miraculum, was destined to serve one prisoner a month and then die after a maximum of twenty years and that we couldn’t propagate it.
I decided to go to the top and made an appointment to see the president of the Royal Horticultural Society of Queensland, inasmuch as the government scientists did not appear to expect any results very soon.
Dr Peter Harriet was the current president of the society and an eminent horticulturist in his own right. He had of course heard of Miraculum and examined it carefully - I had taken it with me to show him and after a few minutes told me that nothing was impossible to grow.
“All that is needed, Will, is for us to determine what it needs. I suggest I speak with your Director-General to fund my visit to the region. I am sure I will be able to discover what is so unique in its habitat...”
