Island Justice, a novella
Chapter 8
Why was I not surprised that we had not seen the last of Anna Klochek? For a
Carribean island, these people were wrapped pretty tight. Now, it seemed, Erin
and Allison were in trouble for creating a scene as Susan was being fastened to
the whipping post. Harriet blamed herself.
"Dammit, I should have told the girls--they don't allow any vocal demonstations
of any kind when punishment is meted out. You noticed that it was pretty silent
even though everyone who had a window to the courtyard, including other
prisoners was watching," she said as we hurried along.
"Yeah, I noticed that it was sort of quiet." You would think that prisoners
watching from the windows would be hootin' and hollerin'.
"That's because they come down hard on other prisoners who shout encouragement
or who heckle. I've heard that these violators pay a little visit to a
soundproofed upstairs room the next day. I didn't put too much stock in the
rumor because no one ever came to me directly. I feel horrible I forgot to tell
the girls this."
We arrived at Ms Klochek's office. The lettering on the door gave her
title--Deputy Matron, Director of Discipline. Director of Discipline--that
figures. A secretary looked up and buzzed an inner office.
"They're here."
Over the intercom came the voice of Anna Klochek. "Send them in."
The secretary rose and indicated for us to follow. We walked through an office
that was apparantly Deputy Klochek's and into a room beyond. What we saw there
gave me a cold lump in the pit of my stomach.
Erin and Allison were upended over a pair of sturdy padded stools, their hands
and ankles bound by cuffs to the legs of the stools. They had been in street
clothes, the dresses they had worn to court. The hems of these dresses had been
pulled up and secured at the small of their backs with a strap. Panties had been
lowered to their ankles. Their bottoms were bare, red, and swollen--the latter
two characteristics the result of this morning's tanning with the strap.
Anna Klochek stood in the center of the room, her hands flexing a thin pliable
cane protruding from a handle. She was bending it into a semicircle. Then she
whooshed it through the air a few times. It made a sickening whine. Two other
guards stood off to the side.
"You're just in time to witness a little supplemetary punishment for your
clients here, thanks to that little disturbance of theirs. Our rules absolutely
forbid any catcalls or cheers on the part of spectators. When prisoners break
this rule we are authorized to punish the offenders. And don't bother calling. I
have already spoken with the judge--he witnessed the whole thing and he agrees
with my decision as Director of Discipline. They will receive 4 strokes each
with the junior cane."
I was indignant. "You can't be serious. Four strokes with that cane on top of
what they have been through--it's barbaric!" Both girls looked at me with
frightened eyes, helpless, hoping I could do something.
Anna Klochek smiled and shrugged. "They should have obeyed our rules. Now they
pay. With their bare little fannies."
"They didn't know there was a rule," I said. I was getting pissed. This was
purely a snide payback at Harriet for noticing Klochek's mistake with the heavy
strap this morning. This woman had a heightened sense of her own importance.
"Well...whose fault is that? Isn't it your business to know these things and to
advise your clients?"
"It's mine," said Harriet, looking Anna Klochek in the eye. Harriet was wearing
a suit with a short skirt, white blouse and a jacket. She moved over to a table
and began to unbutton the jacket. "It's my fault so cane me instead."
My jaw dropped. "Harriet you can't...". Her look silenced me. "I know what I'm
doing, Rollin." She had decided. The determined look said it all.
One of the matrons chuckled and shook her head. "Sorry, honey, nice try, but our
procedures don't permit..." Deputy Klochek held up her hand, stopping her
underling in mid sentence. Her face broke into a broad smile.
"So, Mrs Reeves, you are willing to take the punishment for these two?"
indicating Erin and Allison. "That's a very interesting proposition. How
courageous of you. I must say it's unusual. I've never seen an attorney prepared
to accept her client's punishment as her own."
The other matron spoke. "Anna, you can't...". Anna gave her a hard stare.
"Shut up, Officer Vasquez, this is my call and I can do anything I want." Then
she turned to Harriet, regarding her thoughtfully. I could not take my eyes off
of thin thin flexible cane that she flexed with her hands as she considered
Harriet's offer. She could bend it almost in a circle. "Hmmm...I'm inclined to
say yes to your proposal."
"You'll let the girls go. When this is done we leave," Harriet said evenly.
"Yes."
"All right. We have an agreement."
"Yes we do," said Anna with a wide grin. " And I don't mind telling you, Mrs
Reeves, that I will enjoy this." The smile vanished. " Now to business. That
suit looks like it would wrinkle. Would you be so kind as to take it off?"
Harriet took a deep breath and unzipped the skirt. She dropped it revealing an
ensemble in white satin, a garter belt holding sheer nylons, and panties. She
unbuttoned her blouse to show a white satin bra. Lovely. Under other
circumstances I would have been dazzled--even as it was, I hated myself for my
developing erection.
"The girls," I said, gesturing to Erin and Allison still bound over the stools.
"Oh, yes, release them," Ms Klochek nodded to Officer Vasquez. The assistants
unbuckled the girls who rose on unsteady legs, pulled their panties back up, and
smoothed their dresses back down. Their faces bore looks of genuine relief which
then turned to looks of concern at Harriet's plight.
Harriet had stipped down to bra, garter belt and nylons, and panties. Anna
Klochek pointed the cane toward the near stool. "Would you be so kind as to
assume the position, Mrs Reeves? Over the stool please, bottom well up."
Harriet took a deep breath and lowered herself face down across the padded top.
Her luscious bottomcheeks were turned up and in perfect position for the cane.
"Fasten her down." Two assistant matrons lept do do Ms Klochek's bidding.
Harriet turned her head. "Tying me down isn't necessary. I won't get up."
"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs Reeves--regulations you know. All punishees must be
restrained. This will hurt a bit, I'm afraid, and you might jump up and injure
yourself."
They buckled her wrists and ankles in and drew the strap across the small of her
back. Harriet was completely immobile. Klochek circled her, moving to her front,
still flexing the whippy cane. She paused in front of Harriet, idly swishing the
wand back and forth.
"Eight strokes, Mrs Reeves. After all, someone must pay for that unseemly
outburst."
"What?" I interrupted. "Each of the girls were going to get only 4. Harriet
should get no more than that."
"It's 8. Take it or I strap your clients back down over these stools."
"This is illegal and you know it. Don't push it." The reaction of Klochek's two
assistants had told me that Anna was way out of bounds. It may have been a bluff
but it was a good one.
Her eyes narrowed sharply. Then she shrugged. "Very well, 6, and it stays in
this room."
Harriet raised her head slightly and nodded. I looked at Anna Klochek.
"Done."
She wasted no time. Moving to Harriet's rear, she took a stance and lined up the
cane, tapping it gently against Harriet's nether cheeks. Harriet tensed at the
sensation of the cane touching her bared seat. Ms Klochek raised her arm to
shoulder level and whipped the cane down in a blur. It made a distinct whining
sound before it impacted the crowns of Harriet's buttocks with a sharp retort.
The fleshy mounds rippled and a red line appeared.
Harriet told me later that she had been totally unprepared for the searing line
of pure agony that that first swipe of the cane caused her. It felt like a white
hot wire, she said, and the pain spread out from her bottom to engulf her
nervous system totally.
When the stroke hit, Harriet's head flew back, her fingers splayed out, and her
whole body jerked at the shock. Klochek stepped back, savoring the moment.
Harriet had gasped sharply but had not cried out. The blonde matron paced,
swishing the cane, waiting. Harriet said later that this must have been
deliberate. She knew how to time the strokes because the pain actually peaked
several seconds after the cane struck. The skill in timing was to catch the
penitant just as the pain was subsiding, because that was when the dread of the
next one was starting to build.
She took her stance again. Swisshhh...thwack! Harriet writhed. A second red line
appeared. 30 seconds went by. More pacing by Klochek.
SWisshh...thwick! "Arrhh...ah...ah.." Harriet fought to keep her composure under
the onslaught of stinging agony from the whippy cane.
Erin and Allison looked on, horrified. Three vivid weals spaced about half an
inch apart adorned Harriet's bare wriggling fanny.
Sweee.....huick! "Ahh....oh God, please...ah...ah.."
"Beginning to feel it I see, Mrs Reeves." The blonde matron smiled. She was in
her element. "That's good. I like to know that the message is getting through."
She lined up for another stinging cut. Harriet jerked as she felt the gentle
tap-tap -tap, then...
Ssswwwiiissshhh....thwack! The hardest one yet, delivered with the full force of
Anna Klochek's arm.
Harriet lost it. "Yeeeowwww...arhhh....nnnhhh..." she shrieked. A look of
triumph came over Anna Klochek's face.
Klochek didn't rush the last one. I sensed she wanted to savor it. Her obvious
objective--the delivery of maximum pain within the strictures of our little
agreement.
She planted her feet at Harriet's left side then raised the menacing cane for
the sixth time.
Swiiissshhh....thwack! Harriet's body jerked and she let out a plaintive wail. A
sixth weal appeared. Harriet sobbed, partly because of the atrocious pain,
partly in relief that the ordeal was over. She could not control the sobbing
even as she was let up. She had been whipped. Well and truly whipped in every
sense of the word.
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Later as we lay naked in Harriet's apartment, she would tell me that she had
never in her life felt anything that compared to the sheer agony that she had
endured that day. It was like the cane burned through you, she said, imprinting
its fire on your brain. It felt like the world consisted of only two things...a
cane and a bottom. One to bring fire, the other to endure it.
I kissed the weals of course, and spread cold cream on her buttocks. Next I
crouched behind her and stuck my tongue as far as it would go into her musky
sweetness. I flicked the little bud over and over and ran my tongue up and down
the moistened slit. She was curiously on the boil, well juiced, as if the caning
had awakened some primordial need for sex, as if the pleasure could go on and
on, obliterating the fire ignited by the kiss of the cane.
Then she rode me. Too sore to be on her back, she teased my cock to a hard
upright erection with her mouth then with me on my back, she mounted me. She
rode me like a wild woman, alternately upright bucking furiously then lying on
top gringing her hips, squeezing my erection like she wanted to milk it dry.
Later we lay spoon style on our sides and fucked slowly, torturously slowly. I
tried to be careful not to press too hard on her wealed behind. I gave her a
languid shafting that gathered steam slowly. The delicious friction of my hard
penis sliding in and out of her slickened vagina was making us both deleirious
with pleasure. She wanted me to speed up. I resisted. Our climaxes built like a
slow moving freight train gathering speed. When neither of us could stand it any
more, I let go. So did she. Later, still sore and unable to sit comfortably, she
said that the sex we had just had had been the most intense she could remember.
"Still, I don't advise a full swinging bare butt caning as foreplay," she said
as we stood, drinks in hand, on her veranda. It was three days later. I had put
Erin, Allison and Susan on a plane for Miami the evening of the day they had
been flogged. They were only too happy to get off the island.
"What will you do now?" I said. "Still want to stay down here?"
"Despite all that happened, I still rather like it. Do you want to stay in
dreary Ohio?"
"You know, I could get used to this," I mused. Pina colada in hand, sun sinking
into the ocean, gentle breezes wafting. "Is this a proposition, Mrs Reeves?"
"It is. And you can drop the Mrs."
I told her I liked the sound of it. Hand and Reeves, attys. Specialists in
defending smacked bots of all stripes. I told her it was too bad her last name
wasn't Crop or Kane or something. I paid for that last remark, but that's
another story.
The End
