by Mark Andrews
As for habitual thieves and burglars, well monitoring their whereabouts should go a long way to discouraging them from re-offending.
By now, six months into the programme, the unit was humming.
We went to full strength almost immediately and now Dave, who had been keeping a fatherly eye over us, suggested that as we had the room and that as the success of the project was now a foregone conclusion, we up the numbers to a round hundred. I was thrilled at his confidence and in any case, as pleased as punch that the prisoners were now tractable, obedient and hard-working; that my unit was now returning a small margin to the department and most of all, that the public at large, kept apprised of what we were doing by the public visits as well as the ongoing interest by the media, was a hundred percent behind us.
Even the do-gooders, who had brought a near reign of terror by hooligans and seasoned criminals down upon us, were silent, no doubt overwhelmed by the public approbation for the unit and scared to open their mouths in protest.
With the additional seventy prisoners, all stripped naked, denuded of their body hair and implanted with the dual zappers, our output increased significantly. We were able to man the generator capstan to a much greater extent and with our much heightened vegetable output (brought about by the use of the waste digester’s residue which allowed bumper crops throughout the year) we were actually able to sell our surplus.
The extra numbers also allowed more public showings of our punishment sessions.
The ball-busting was the most popular of these but I restricted them to rapists and paedophiles. The other classes of sex offender and now some who were guilty of major assaults were caned, whipped or strapped.
Because of the clamour for seats for these sessions and I was pleased to see that we had waiting lists for all of them, we decided to move them into a larger area of the old factory which we turned into a real theatre with semi-circular galleries, each stepped higher than the one in front and with comfortable theatre seats providing each with a perfect view of the activities on the round stage down below them.
Bob Drover now excelled himself in providing equipment for the stage which could be assembled and disassembled in seconds. Thus if we were going to flog the genitals of a prisoner, the scaffold to support him upside down and with his feet drawn up wide and high, could be slotted into the floor opening and the crosspiece fitted into their tops very easily.
He had provided small electric winches built into the base of each upright and the wires from these went up the inside of the column, emerging near the top and ending in Velcro lined ankle or wrist manacles, thus he (or she) could be secured into the desired position in less than a couple of minutes.
With our proven success so far, Dave was quick to authorise the new expenditure to create our new theatre, which we dubbed Punishment Room 1, implying there were others and which we thought gave a nice touch to it.
It was furnished tastefully and provided with up-to-the-minute computerised lighting to highlight the activity down on the stage and to dim the house lights. The lower walls were panelled and the upper ones provided with well-displayed paintings (copies, but they looked good). In short, the large room had the appearance of an up-market theatre. It could also comfortably hold five hundred spectators which, if we could fill them, would swell the department’s coffers even more.
Of course i kept tabs on young Sandy. I believed he was a reformed character but I had come to like and admire Jan O’Connor very much and I would never forgive myself if he relapsed due to the penile zapper unit being inactive.
Accordingly I went out to her house at odd times on weekends. She always made me most welcome and as I sat in her living room I was amazed at Sandy’s demeanour, appearance and efficiency.
She had ‘dressed’ him in a black bow tie around his otherwise naked neck and smart starched cuffs on his wrists and these items enhanced rather than took away from his nakedness.
She had obviously kept the penile zapper switched off, too, for as he attended on us, serving coffee and savouries, I noted he was fully erect. She grinned at my obvious astonishment and explained that whenever she required him to attend her personally, he was required to erect - and stay that way for the duration, on pain of five strokes of the cane if he failed to keep it up.
“But aren’t you worried that he might try to rape you again?” I asked carefully
“Not at all. I believe he is truly repentant, Will. When he raped me he was full of bravado, a sneering braggart... Now, as you can see, his eyes are soft and they follow me everywhere. I think he would give his life for me now.”
I had to agree. He was certainly a changed young man and I also noted that he kept her house spotless. Even more amazing, he had become a good cook, she said. “The savouries you just sampled were made by him and you have to agree they were wonderful, eh?”
I grinned. “They were, indeed. And you intend to keep him naked?”
“For the time being, anyway. Actually, he asked me to. And, he goes shopping that way, too. I asked him how the public reacted. He said they sneered at him at first but as he held his head high and smiled at them all, they relented and actually talked to him, so it seems your whole programme is a success, Will.”
“It does seem so but I’m really glad it’s worked out for you.” I paused a moment and looked at her speculatively.
She grinned and shot back at me: “You’re going to ask how long I’m going to keep him and whether I’ve fallen for him, aren’t you?”
I looked sheepish but then smiled back at her. “I was, actually...”
“As to the first, I don’t know. For now, indefinitely, as for the other, I’ve thought about it a lot. I certainly like him a lot. Whether I love him is quite another thing. I certainly don’t hate him any more, that’s for sure and, you know, it’s rather nice having him around. I actually like to look at his naked body, Will...”
“Well, that’s understandable. He really is quite a handsome young man now and his body is just about perfect, wouldn’t you say?”
“I most certainly would. Hey, would you like to see him dance?”
“Dance?” I said stupidly, imagining him performing the ballroom or rock or roll variety, but I nodded and said I would.
She called him in and as he did, I noted his eyes were properly downcast in the presence of his mistress. He moved over to her knelt and still with his eyes down, asked her wishes. She ordered him to perform for me, at which he gave her a court bow (that is a smart nod of the head, down and up but without any bending of the body), rose and came over to stand before my chair - and then began a belly dance.
And, quite incredibly, he was very good at it. My understanding of this so erotic dance is that it takes years for a girl to learn it and even more to master it. As he stood there and gyrated his middle regions back and forth, moved his arms and upper body in tantalising postures and gestures and included mock-fuck motions as part of the whole, I was quite unable to control my own libido and desperately attempted to hide my aroused state from her.
To no avail. As he brought his performance to a close I clapped him, at which he smiled weakly at me then moved to, knelt and looked up at his mistress.
“Mr Chalmers needs your attention, boy. See to his comforts, please.”
He came over to me again, knelt, reached out for my hand then rose and led me off to a guest suite in the house. (Jan had inherited a quite substantial house from her parents and the means to maintain it. Now though, Sandy was her maid, gardener and handyman, I gathered.)
Once in the room and undressed me while I stood and watched, uncertain what was coming but eager to see what he would do. So far, he was the soul of discretion, not touching me improperly as he removed each item and folded it neatly. Then, once I was naked, he led me into the en suite bathroom and showered me. In the process, he manoeuvred his body around and pok
ed his backside at my still raging boner, clearly inviting to be fucked.
I did and although I knew he was not homosexual from his reactions to our rape of his body while our prisoner, he gave a masterly performance here, too, reacting to each of my thrusts with just-as-strong recoil against my thrusting loins.
Afterwards, he thanked me for raping him, dried me and then dressed me again. He led me back to Jan’s small sitting room and left me there.
“Was he satisfactory, Will?” she asked. “If not, I will cane him, right now...”
I grinned back at her. “No, he was perfect, thank you.
We made small talk for a few more minutes and then I took my leave. “You will come back, Will, won’t you?” She paused a moment and then added, “You know I like you, don’t you?”
“I do, Jan, and I like you, too, but you know my heart is in another place...?”
“Carl?”
I nodded. “Yes, and I think we will be making a permanent home together at some time soon.”
“I was hoping you would. The love between you is obvious and no, I hadn’t set my heart on you. To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if I did fall for Sandy. I really like him, now, but I want to be sure of him. I think he loves me for myself but time will tell and keeping him as a naked slave, even to making him go out naked in public will eventually show him up if he is shamming it.”
“I agree,” I said, but I also agree that he does love you and will go to any lengths to prove it to you.”
I paused a moment, then decided to tell her of my newest idea to shame and humiliate the rapists among my prisoners. “Jan, I’m going to introduce a new activity at the factory. Bob Drover is already making me some small gigs which are going to be harnessed to the rapists and paedophiles in a manner that most would describe as utterly bizarre: we are going to connect them to it by an anal butt-plug and a cuff around their genitals - and that’s all. No belt or handles for them to hang on to... They are going to be made to race the gigs before our paying public.
“How about you ask Sandy if he would like to compete with them as a mark of his devotion to you?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Let’s!” and she called Sandy once more.
He entered and dropped to the same position of subservience to her and then she asked me to describe the gigs and how they were to be harnessed to the rapists and paedophiles. I did, watching his eyes carefully. I thought this would be litmus test of sorts. If he thought his mistress was asking him to be one of them, how would he react? After all he was legally free now. His slavery to her was perfectly voluntary and he could opt out any time he wished.
I wasn’t surprised to see the same sparkle develop in them, however. Oh yes, he was changed alright. “And, sir, do I take it that I might be permitted to take part alongside them?”
“Would you wish to do so now that you are a free man, Sandy?”
“If it was my mistress’ wish for me to, sir, I would be honoured to compete as her slave...”
“Then so it shall be. We shall be practising with the gigs for the first time next Monday. Come at ten in the morning...”
I smiled at Jan, thanked her (not Sandy) for the morning tea, and left, well pleased with my morning there.
With our new theatre up and running, I wanted to make sure our shows continued to attract patrons and at the same time, get the message across. Offend against the person in Queensland and particularly commit rape and other sex crimes against others, and this is what you face...
Accordingly, I encouraged our participants, the officers who would be acting as the ‘executioners’ in our little dramas to come up with ideas to make them better, more spectacular and some had.
Carl, had originally suggested the chain-mail helmet and loincloth and Pete Williams, the codpiece, both of which had been warmly received.
Now, it was Sandy who rang me and suggested an even more startling get-up for our ‘executioners’. Have you ever seen one of those helmets the Japanese samurai used to wear? They are quite terrifying - by design - and he suggested that the codpiece Pete had worn be replaced by one adapted to match the helmet.
Carl agreed and Bob Drover was able to fabricate both items quite easily. When Carl tried them on, standing otherwise naked before me, I was shocked (but also gratified) how terrifying he looked, especially holding the coiled signal whip in his right hand. I knew that when he, Pete or any other of my universally muscular officers strode in wearing these two items, they would be applauded roundly for their audacity and command.
I was right. Over the last few months, each of our officers had taken part in these ‘shows’ which were designed to not only apply painful punishment to the prisoners but also to humiliate them by displaying them naked in public and under the whip, cane, paddle or strap. But now it was Carl’s turn again and he grinned as he strode around my office, almost completely naked but with the two fearsome metal accoutrements on his tall muscular frame. My secretary, the only non-prisoner female in the factory, thought he looked stupendous and asked if she could come and watch Joe Connors punished this day.
“Of course, Jill, you only had to ask, you know that?”
“I know, Will, but I didn’t like to before. But Carl looks so good, I couldn’t pass it up now.” I just smiled at her.
Joe Connors’ body was no longer the scrawny, runt-like piece of garbage it had been when we had acquired him. A great deal of hard work, enforced and encouraged by whip and cane, had developed it into an almost pleasing shape although he hadn’t assumed the very strange handsomeness that Sandy had. That, we were all convinced, had come about by the effects of the enzymes produced by Miraculum.
Anyway, this was to be Joe’s last day. He hadn’t been treated with Miraculum as I decided to use him (as a repeat paedophile) as a test case for the testicular and penile zapper.
He had been informed of his limits and of no-go areas such as schools and the like and that his continued freedom (on a parole which was under my control) would depend on his playing by the rules. I think he was genuine in wishing to do the right thing but then I knew the power of the urges that beset his kind. Mind you, ever since he had had the penile implant and I had tested him by means of provoking photographs, he had come through clean, without even a twinge down there, so perhaps the fear of that pain was enough to override his urges.
I (or more often the automatic surveillance afforded by the sophisticated computer programme on the department’s mainframe computer and relayed to my desktop unit) would watch him carefully and if he stepped out of line, even once, he would be back with us, maybe to undergo the radical castration I had originally decided on for his kind.
His punishment was to be salutary - as a last reminder what awaited him if he was foolish enough to attempt to go near places frequented by children or otherwise break his parole. He was to be strung up by his heels, pulled as wide apart as we could get them.
He was then going to caned - viciously. Twenty strokes, as hard as Carl could apply them and then Pete, similarly attired, was going to whip him.
For that he would be restored to his feet and be required to stand, quite free of restraints of any kind, while Pete applied the signal whip’s lash around his middle, its tail landing on his genitals. There were to be twenty of these, too.
Our theatre was full. Not a spare seat anywhere and before Joe was brought in, I addressed the audience, informing them of Joe’s crimes and his punishment thus far and that after this last correction he was to be freed on parole - and then advised them of the nature of his two implants and how we believed it would keep him on the straight and narrow.
There was a murmur in the crowd and I knew some of them at least would prefer that he and his ilk be kept under lock and key permanently - for the rest of his life. I explained further that that was not only extraordinarily expensive but that we really believed the
two implants were fail-safe and that he was so scared of them that if he erred, either by being in the wrong place (at which the GPS unit would shock his testicle) or manifested an incipient erection (and thus suffer a shock to his penis), he would result in being transformed into a gibbering wreck, called up in a foetal position on the ground. And further, that he would then be returned to us for much worse treatment still.
They quietened then and he was led in. There were some jeers and boos, but for the most part the audience remained silent but watching intently as his now quite athletic but of course still naked body was led in by two uniformed guards. He was then secured, upside down, as described, now waiting for Carl to come in and cane him.
He strode in confidently, staring up and around the semi-circular tiers above him and smiling and waving the cane at them.
He then moved over to his position behind and to one side of the dangling, upside-down prisoner, raised his cane, and then lashed it down, as hard as his powerful muscles allowed, striking both buttocks fair across their middle. I grinned as I watched this so strong and purposeful officer, who dearly loved to play at being my abject slave, now acting as the dominant master - and making a more than fair fist of it, too.
His body was still as good, er, maybe even better than when I had first seen it naked, all those months ago when he had become my lover and friend as well as my deputy and the audience obviously thought so too for they cheered him loudly, both as his cane slammed into Joe’s buttocks, but even more so when, after each stroke, he strode around the front of the stage flexing his splendid muscles at them and grinning happily up at them, the cheers then and the ribald suggestions to ‘get it off’ he took good-naturedly and even tugging at the samurai-helmet adorned cod-piece, as if trying to pull it off - but of course failing - to their shouts of disappointment.
Dave Peters, sitting beside me, grinned and wondered (rhetorically, I hoped) if he would succeed. I just grinned at him he was, after all, my boss.
