Chapter 6 - My First Strapping
She walked around behind me. I felt her hand on my buttocks. “This one is new! He’s not yet marked. Not at all!” she called out to the audience. My erection became harder. The Ladies sitting on the lawn stared up at me. The drunk lady laughed.
“This is a new one. His ass is unmarked! How many does this one get?” said the black Lady, standing behind me, pressing the strap to my buttocks.
“He’s got one extra punishment today. So he gets 70” a Lady called. It was my supervisor’s voice. I could not see where she was.
“Very good. 70 it is. That’s a good number, for a first strapping! He will remember this!”
She called out to the audience. “I’ll give him his standard twenty strokes, then I’ll move on down the line. I’ll come back to him after all the others are done. He can listen to the others being strapped, while he waits for his second set! Once he knows what twenty feels like, he won’t look forward to me coming back to give him another fifty!”
The audience laughed and applauded. Then they became completely quiet.
She moved the strap softly up and down my buttocks for a minute.
She spoke quietly to me, so only I could hear.
“I like to use my strap on white boys asses! I enjoy it! You have seventy coming! There will be no mercy, white boy!”
“But you will beg me for mercy anyway” she said softly, into my ear.
Then she took the strap away.
I heard her take a step backwards, and then the sudden rush of the strap.
CRACK!!!
A broad band of white-hot fire seared across my ass. It was unbelievably painful! Much, much worse than I had expected! More than I could bear!
I jerked as hard as I could, but the pillory would not let me move an inch. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. I was in too much pain to make a sound.
The audience was still completely quiet. The pain gradually started to fade. The shock of the first stroke had made me stop breathing. I started to gasp for breath, and my gasps seemed loud in the silence. At last, I could speak.
“Owwwww ...!!!!!” I moaned “That really hurt!” It was a really stupid thing to say, I know.
Someone in the audience tittered.
“Oh… really? did that sting your pretty white ass?” said the Lady with the strap, mockingly.
She waited a few more seconds, then I heard her swing the strap again. Even harder.
CRACK!!!
I wanted to scream! But I just managed to hold it back.
CRACK!!!
God! I could not take this! I could not stand this!
I heard her laugh. “White boy!” she said, as she swung her strap again, hard and accurate.
CRACK!!!
This time I screamed out loud. I could not help it. That stroke was even worse than the otherst! And I had seventy to take! I hung in the pillory, my legs trembling. I realized that I had an erection. I could not endure the pain! I moaned in desperation. I could not possibly take seventy like that! I could not take them! I could not!!!!!
But I stayed silent. I did not beg. The audience murmured.
“Did that one hurt too?” asked the Lady with the strap, sarcastically.
“I think so! Let’s get you reddened up! Here we go………”
CRACK!!!
Finally, I had to beg.
“Pleeeease!!! Pleeeeease!! Pleeeease stoppp…Please don’t go so fast!!! Please so slower!!!”
She took no notice. She swung the strap at a steady pace, each stroke delivered accurately across my lower buttocks. Each stroke was delivered hard. She didn’t vary the pace, or the intensity, no matter how I yelled.
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
I hung sobbing in the pillory. I yelled uncontrollably at each stroke. I begged for mercy. I was crying and babbling. I was totally humiliated. I had been taught to beg, at last.
I was screaming now, at every stroke.
“Please!!! Please !!!!! Please !!!!!! Please!!!! No More!!!!! Please!!!!! Please!!!!!”
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
The Lady pressed her hand on my buttocks. I was burning.
“His ass is reddening up nicely” she called out to the audience. “Now I’ll move down to his thighs…..”
She stepped back, and I heard the rush of air again.
CRACK!!!
She struck me across my upper thighs this time. If anything, it hurt worse there!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
I was gasping and slobbering, tears running down my nose and chin. I could not bear it! I could not bear it! Noone could take this! I could not take any more! I descended into blackness, and the pain faded. I heard applause from the audience, faintly, from a long way away. I swam in a dream. The world suddenly rushed back to me, and the pain across my ass blazed up again! I was still in the pillory, my ass completely on fire! I gasped and tried to move. I could not. I dreaded another stroke! I started to babble again.
“Hush…..hush…….you have had your first twenty, now, boy! You sure are red! That must be really sore! Relax….relax….that’s all……for now. But I’ll be back later.” the black Lady said. She was breathing heavily from her exertion. She pressed her hand to my buttocks, and down my thighs, and felt the weals. I was burning from my lower buttocks down to my mid-thighs.
I quietened down, sobbing and gasping, tears flowing down my face, locked in the pillory, the Ladies staring up at me.
“Hush now….that’s good. You won’t get any more for a few minutes. Now I’ve got you nice and sore, you can wait and listen whilst I strap the others! As I strap them, listen well to their screams! When I’ve finished with them, I’ll come back to you, white boy, and I’m going to give you another fifty! Think about that!”
She moved away from me. I heard her step to the slave on my left. He was already crying. He knew what was coming. He had been here before.
“How many for this one?” the Lady called out.
“Just twenty for Jeffrey” was the answer. “he doesn’t get black marks any more! He’s learned to be a good slave!”
The audience laughed.
The man sobbed even harder.
“So you are a good slave, are you? Then why are you crying? Don’t you want to be strapped by a black woman? You have something against black women?” The lady with the strap asked sarcastically.
“No Ma’am. I like black women! I’m a good slave Ma’am! I obey all women. I respect all women! Especially black women!” he babbled.
The audience tittered.
She held the strap in front of his face. “Weren’t you the CEO of IM Industries? I think you were! But that was before you were brought here. Now, you’re just a white-boy slave! And now you’re going to be strapped by this black woman!”
“Please, Ma’am….please….” he said weakly “Please don’t strap me this week! I’m still sore from last week! I can’t take this any more! I’ll do what you say! Please! Please don’t strap me this week! Not this week! Not again! Please!!!!!!”
“Oh, be quiet, Slave” the Lady snapped “Slaves get strapped every Sunday, you know that! There are no exceptions! Not even for you, Mr Important CEO! You’re just a slave now! If you didn’t want that, you shouldn’t have signed your contract, should you?”
She stepped back, then swung the thick leather strap with all her strength. And she was a muscular woman.
The man screamed when the thick strap landed on his buttocks. And again, and again, and again, as the Lady relentless swung the strap. I stood helpless in my own locked pillory, listening to his screams. I could imagine his pain with every stroke! I was so thankful that it was him being strapped, and not me! It was even pleasurable, to hear him screaming, because it was him screaming, and not me! As every stroke landed, I was so grateful it was him, and not me!
She gave him twenty fast strokes. I think he yelled even more than I did. She must have laid it on especially hard. I think that faster strokes are harder to take. But his ass was also sore from his previous weekly strappings. He took it hard, crying and sobbing . No one can really know what going on in the head of a slave, being strapped. I’ve seen many slaves being punished, now I’ve been here so long. Some men can endure it better than others, but I don’t know why. They all beg in the end, however. No one can endure the strap. They think they can, but they can’t.
The Lady inspected his ass, and made some crude comment to the Ladies watching. They laughed. Then she moved to the next pillory, and repeated the strapping for the next slave. Then to the next slave. Then the next. Each got twenty. Except for the men in the fifth and eighth pillory, who each had a black mark for some offence in the last week. They each got seventy strokes, straight. They took the first twenty strokes as well as the other men, but after that, they yelled so much that I could not bear it, even just listening. I hung in my pillory, listening to their screams, as each hard leather stroke landed on their sore asses. I knew what 20 strokes felt like. Even one stroke of the strap was too hard to bear! I could not imagine what seventy strokes was like! Actually, I could! As I heard each stroke of the strap, and heard them scream, I tensed in my pillory. I was so thankful that it wasn’t me!
But as the Lady worked further down the line, I got increasingly scared. I knew she’d be back for me when she’d strapped all the others! I could not take another fifty! But I could not move! I promised myself I would make sure I never made any errors in future! I would remain close to my gate, and would never be late in opening the gate in future! I realized that these strappings were designed to ensure complete obedience from the slaves. And they were very effective! None of us would dare be intentionally disobedient, or do anything displeasing, when we knew that it meant an extra fifty strokes! The strappings were designed to keep us good slaves. And the heavy chains ensured we had no chance of escape! Not ever!
At last, I heard the Lady walking back to me.
“ Ok white boy! It’s time for you to pay your dues for not being a good slave! You will now have your fifty extra strokes! To avoid this, in future, you will need to be a good slave. It’s completely up to you, whether you are a good slave or not! But be sure that I’ll be here next week, and I’ll be more than happy to strap you again, just as much as necessary!”
I then got another fifty strokes of the strap. She had been right, they were much worse than the first. I can’t even say how bad it was. Words can’t express it. I did not take it well. I disgraced myself, before the watching ladies. I could not help it. The ladies just laughed, when the urine ran down.
The Ladies got up from their chairs, and went back into the house, chatting and laughing. Some Ladies came up to different slaves, and comforted those, giving them wine or water to drink, and wiping the sweat from their faces. The slaves in the fifth and eighth pillories, the two who had received 70 strokes, were immediately taken out of their pillories, and were taken away in chains by two different Ladies. I assume that these were the favorite slaves of those Ladies. I was cleaned up, then left in my pillory. A few of the Ladies who had been watching the punishments came up to inspect me more closely. They prodded me, ran their gloved hands over my buttocks, and commented on my marks. One older Lady was especially richly-dressed. She took my damp hair in her gloved hand, and pulled my head up. She stared into my eyes. She ran her other hand over my shoulders, then my chest. She felt my buttocks. She put her hand on my cock. Yes, quite nice. Two more weeks in the pillory and you’ll be ready” she muttered. “Make a note of this one’s number” she called to her assistant “Put him on my watch list. Let me know where he’s kept, and when he’s to be punished. I’ll want him brought to my private room, when I decide he’s ready!” Then she let my head drop, and walked away. I had no idea what she meant. The other Ladies continued to prod and examine me. They did not seem at all concerned about my suffering. I realized that they had been perfectly happy to see me being strapped. It was clear that, as far as they were concerned, I was an a****l, a slave, and my strapping had been a natural treatment for me.
Finally the Ladies left, and we were left alone, still locked in our pillories. We stood there for the rest of the afternoon. A row of naked men, locked in their pillories, side by side, our asses red and striped from the strap. None of us dared speak. Speaking was a strapping offence! It grew dark. I wanted to shout, to call for help, but I realized that was useless. And I realized if I was caught speaking without permission, I would certainly get extra strokes next Sunday! So I stood quietly, with the others. I realized that these Ladies’ methods ensured complete obedience! And they handled us very securely, I had been locked up every second….escape was simply not possible! The thought of what they would probably do if they caught me trying to escape, made me tremble with fright. I was too scared to even try to escape! I had been made a slave!
It grew dark. I occasionally heard women’s’ voices and footsteps, but they were just passing somewhere. We stood there, locked in our pillories. Except for occasional moans, we were silent. We knew what the punishment was for speaking without permission!
I heard cars start up, and drive away. I wondered if they opened the gate for themselves. The lights gradually went off in the house behind us. It was late at night. I had been expecting to be released from the pillory, but clearly we had been left here for the night. I sighed and tried to make the best of it. I clearly could not sleep. I was able to doze, half awake and half asleep.
At last, it started to grow light. I heard the other slaves start to stir, groaning and coughing, but not speaking. After several hours, the Lady who had removed our chastity devices came out, and went down the line of pillories, locked the chastity devices back on each slave in turn. When she came to me, I still had an erection. She had a small ice pack with her, which she wrapped around my erect cock. My erection immediately stared to ease. She took the ice pack off. My erection immediately started to return.
“You really are horny, aren’t you?” she said. “But I can deal with that!”
She took a small leather whip from her belt, about 10 inches long, and lashed my cock. It stung like hell! My erection faded rapidly! When I was soft enough, she quickly locked my Kali bracelet back on, before my erection could return. When her hands touched my cock, my erection started to come back again, but now the Kali was on, and started to do its painful work. My erection vanished immediately. “If you don’t get any black marks, you will be allowed to wank next Sunday” she said. “For one minute! Would you like that, slave?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” I said. She walked away, leaving me helpless. I looked down and tried to put her out of my mind. I desperately needed to wank! Now the KTB was back on, I had to try not to think about sex.
After another hour, Ladies started to come back to collect the different slaves. They put each man back in wrist and ankle shackles, and led him away, with a shock baton held ready for his balls. Every slave was completely obedient and docile as he was led away. They all knew that escape was totally impossible, and any disobedience would only earn them a shock on their balls, and undoubtedly a black mark also. I realized that the women here had developed methods which held their slaves inescapably under absolute discipline.
Finally, my supervising Lady came for me. She briefly checked my Kali bracelet was locked in place, then inspected my buttocks.
She sighed as she inspected my buttocks. “That was a hard strapping! I hope you have learned your lesson! You will be red and sore for the rest of the week! Monica is very good with the strap!”
She stroked my cheek. You did very well, Peter, for your first time. It took three or four hard strokes to make you yell! I’m pleased! I like men who try to take their punishment bravely! I’m proud to be your supervisor, Peter. And all the Ladies thought you did so well. They are all talking about you”.
“But don’t think that this means I’m going to be easy on you, Peter! I maintain strict discipline! I won’t hesitate to order an extra strapping for you, for the slightest infringement of the rules! You would be wise not to test me on this!”
“I’m going to put you back in shackles now. But look at this first. Remember that I’ll use it if I need to!” She took the shock baton from her belt, and pressed it between my legs, against my balls. I moaned. She laughed and clipped it back on her belt. I would never dare resist her whilst she had that, and she knew it! And I could never be disobedient, ever again, now I knew what the strap felt like!
She unlocked my wrists from the pillory. I stiffly moved my arms, able to move them for the first time in hours. “Hands behind your back, please!” She handcuffed me tightly with practiced ease. She was obviously very used to handcuffing men. My ankles were next released from the stocks and the shackles put back on, tightly. Finally, when I was cuffed and shackled, the upper beam was unlocked and my neck was released. I could finally stand upright again. It was the reverse of the method she used to put me in the pillory. I realized that the procedure was designed to keep me totally helpless at all times. I was never free, even for an instant.
“This is a new one. His ass is unmarked! How many does this one get?” said the black Lady, standing behind me, pressing the strap to my buttocks.
“He’s got one extra punishment today. So he gets 70” a Lady called. It was my supervisor’s voice. I could not see where she was.
“Very good. 70 it is. That’s a good number, for a first strapping! He will remember this!”
She called out to the audience. “I’ll give him his standard twenty strokes, then I’ll move on down the line. I’ll come back to him after all the others are done. He can listen to the others being strapped, while he waits for his second set! Once he knows what twenty feels like, he won’t look forward to me coming back to give him another fifty!”
The audience laughed and applauded. Then they became completely quiet.
She moved the strap softly up and down my buttocks for a minute.
She spoke quietly to me, so only I could hear.
“I like to use my strap on white boys asses! I enjoy it! You have seventy coming! There will be no mercy, white boy!”
“But you will beg me for mercy anyway” she said softly, into my ear.
Then she took the strap away.
I heard her take a step backwards, and then the sudden rush of the strap.
CRACK!!!
A broad band of white-hot fire seared across my ass. It was unbelievably painful! Much, much worse than I had expected! More than I could bear!
I jerked as hard as I could, but the pillory would not let me move an inch. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. I was in too much pain to make a sound.
The audience was still completely quiet. The pain gradually started to fade. The shock of the first stroke had made me stop breathing. I started to gasp for breath, and my gasps seemed loud in the silence. At last, I could speak.
“Owwwww ...!!!!!” I moaned “That really hurt!” It was a really stupid thing to say, I know.
Someone in the audience tittered.
“Oh… really? did that sting your pretty white ass?” said the Lady with the strap, mockingly.
She waited a few more seconds, then I heard her swing the strap again. Even harder.
CRACK!!!
I wanted to scream! But I just managed to hold it back.
CRACK!!!
God! I could not take this! I could not stand this!
I heard her laugh. “White boy!” she said, as she swung her strap again, hard and accurate.
CRACK!!!
This time I screamed out loud. I could not help it. That stroke was even worse than the otherst! And I had seventy to take! I hung in the pillory, my legs trembling. I realized that I had an erection. I could not endure the pain! I moaned in desperation. I could not possibly take seventy like that! I could not take them! I could not!!!!!
But I stayed silent. I did not beg. The audience murmured.
“Did that one hurt too?” asked the Lady with the strap, sarcastically.
“I think so! Let’s get you reddened up! Here we go………”
CRACK!!!
Finally, I had to beg.
“Pleeeease!!! Pleeeeease!! Pleeeease stoppp…Please don’t go so fast!!! Please so slower!!!”
She took no notice. She swung the strap at a steady pace, each stroke delivered accurately across my lower buttocks. Each stroke was delivered hard. She didn’t vary the pace, or the intensity, no matter how I yelled.
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
I hung sobbing in the pillory. I yelled uncontrollably at each stroke. I begged for mercy. I was crying and babbling. I was totally humiliated. I had been taught to beg, at last.
I was screaming now, at every stroke.
“Please!!! Please !!!!! Please !!!!!! Please!!!! No More!!!!! Please!!!!! Please!!!!!”
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
The Lady pressed her hand on my buttocks. I was burning.
“His ass is reddening up nicely” she called out to the audience. “Now I’ll move down to his thighs…..”
She stepped back, and I heard the rush of air again.
CRACK!!!
She struck me across my upper thighs this time. If anything, it hurt worse there!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!!
I was gasping and slobbering, tears running down my nose and chin. I could not bear it! I could not bear it! Noone could take this! I could not take any more! I descended into blackness, and the pain faded. I heard applause from the audience, faintly, from a long way away. I swam in a dream. The world suddenly rushed back to me, and the pain across my ass blazed up again! I was still in the pillory, my ass completely on fire! I gasped and tried to move. I could not. I dreaded another stroke! I started to babble again.
“Hush…..hush…….you have had your first twenty, now, boy! You sure are red! That must be really sore! Relax….relax….that’s all……for now. But I’ll be back later.” the black Lady said. She was breathing heavily from her exertion. She pressed her hand to my buttocks, and down my thighs, and felt the weals. I was burning from my lower buttocks down to my mid-thighs.
I quietened down, sobbing and gasping, tears flowing down my face, locked in the pillory, the Ladies staring up at me.
“Hush now….that’s good. You won’t get any more for a few minutes. Now I’ve got you nice and sore, you can wait and listen whilst I strap the others! As I strap them, listen well to their screams! When I’ve finished with them, I’ll come back to you, white boy, and I’m going to give you another fifty! Think about that!”
She moved away from me. I heard her step to the slave on my left. He was already crying. He knew what was coming. He had been here before.
“How many for this one?” the Lady called out.
“Just twenty for Jeffrey” was the answer. “he doesn’t get black marks any more! He’s learned to be a good slave!”
The audience laughed.
The man sobbed even harder.
“So you are a good slave, are you? Then why are you crying? Don’t you want to be strapped by a black woman? You have something against black women?” The lady with the strap asked sarcastically.
“No Ma’am. I like black women! I’m a good slave Ma’am! I obey all women. I respect all women! Especially black women!” he babbled.
The audience tittered.
She held the strap in front of his face. “Weren’t you the CEO of IM Industries? I think you were! But that was before you were brought here. Now, you’re just a white-boy slave! And now you’re going to be strapped by this black woman!”
“Please, Ma’am….please….” he said weakly “Please don’t strap me this week! I’m still sore from last week! I can’t take this any more! I’ll do what you say! Please! Please don’t strap me this week! Not this week! Not again! Please!!!!!!”
“Oh, be quiet, Slave” the Lady snapped “Slaves get strapped every Sunday, you know that! There are no exceptions! Not even for you, Mr Important CEO! You’re just a slave now! If you didn’t want that, you shouldn’t have signed your contract, should you?”
She stepped back, then swung the thick leather strap with all her strength. And she was a muscular woman.
The man screamed when the thick strap landed on his buttocks. And again, and again, and again, as the Lady relentless swung the strap. I stood helpless in my own locked pillory, listening to his screams. I could imagine his pain with every stroke! I was so thankful that it was him being strapped, and not me! It was even pleasurable, to hear him screaming, because it was him screaming, and not me! As every stroke landed, I was so grateful it was him, and not me!
She gave him twenty fast strokes. I think he yelled even more than I did. She must have laid it on especially hard. I think that faster strokes are harder to take. But his ass was also sore from his previous weekly strappings. He took it hard, crying and sobbing . No one can really know what going on in the head of a slave, being strapped. I’ve seen many slaves being punished, now I’ve been here so long. Some men can endure it better than others, but I don’t know why. They all beg in the end, however. No one can endure the strap. They think they can, but they can’t.
The Lady inspected his ass, and made some crude comment to the Ladies watching. They laughed. Then she moved to the next pillory, and repeated the strapping for the next slave. Then to the next slave. Then the next. Each got twenty. Except for the men in the fifth and eighth pillory, who each had a black mark for some offence in the last week. They each got seventy strokes, straight. They took the first twenty strokes as well as the other men, but after that, they yelled so much that I could not bear it, even just listening. I hung in my pillory, listening to their screams, as each hard leather stroke landed on their sore asses. I knew what 20 strokes felt like. Even one stroke of the strap was too hard to bear! I could not imagine what seventy strokes was like! Actually, I could! As I heard each stroke of the strap, and heard them scream, I tensed in my pillory. I was so thankful that it wasn’t me!
But as the Lady worked further down the line, I got increasingly scared. I knew she’d be back for me when she’d strapped all the others! I could not take another fifty! But I could not move! I promised myself I would make sure I never made any errors in future! I would remain close to my gate, and would never be late in opening the gate in future! I realized that these strappings were designed to ensure complete obedience from the slaves. And they were very effective! None of us would dare be intentionally disobedient, or do anything displeasing, when we knew that it meant an extra fifty strokes! The strappings were designed to keep us good slaves. And the heavy chains ensured we had no chance of escape! Not ever!
At last, I heard the Lady walking back to me.
“ Ok white boy! It’s time for you to pay your dues for not being a good slave! You will now have your fifty extra strokes! To avoid this, in future, you will need to be a good slave. It’s completely up to you, whether you are a good slave or not! But be sure that I’ll be here next week, and I’ll be more than happy to strap you again, just as much as necessary!”
I then got another fifty strokes of the strap. She had been right, they were much worse than the first. I can’t even say how bad it was. Words can’t express it. I did not take it well. I disgraced myself, before the watching ladies. I could not help it. The ladies just laughed, when the urine ran down.
The Ladies got up from their chairs, and went back into the house, chatting and laughing. Some Ladies came up to different slaves, and comforted those, giving them wine or water to drink, and wiping the sweat from their faces. The slaves in the fifth and eighth pillories, the two who had received 70 strokes, were immediately taken out of their pillories, and were taken away in chains by two different Ladies. I assume that these were the favorite slaves of those Ladies. I was cleaned up, then left in my pillory. A few of the Ladies who had been watching the punishments came up to inspect me more closely. They prodded me, ran their gloved hands over my buttocks, and commented on my marks. One older Lady was especially richly-dressed. She took my damp hair in her gloved hand, and pulled my head up. She stared into my eyes. She ran her other hand over my shoulders, then my chest. She felt my buttocks. She put her hand on my cock. Yes, quite nice. Two more weeks in the pillory and you’ll be ready” she muttered. “Make a note of this one’s number” she called to her assistant “Put him on my watch list. Let me know where he’s kept, and when he’s to be punished. I’ll want him brought to my private room, when I decide he’s ready!” Then she let my head drop, and walked away. I had no idea what she meant. The other Ladies continued to prod and examine me. They did not seem at all concerned about my suffering. I realized that they had been perfectly happy to see me being strapped. It was clear that, as far as they were concerned, I was an a****l, a slave, and my strapping had been a natural treatment for me.
Finally the Ladies left, and we were left alone, still locked in our pillories. We stood there for the rest of the afternoon. A row of naked men, locked in their pillories, side by side, our asses red and striped from the strap. None of us dared speak. Speaking was a strapping offence! It grew dark. I wanted to shout, to call for help, but I realized that was useless. And I realized if I was caught speaking without permission, I would certainly get extra strokes next Sunday! So I stood quietly, with the others. I realized that these Ladies’ methods ensured complete obedience! And they handled us very securely, I had been locked up every second….escape was simply not possible! The thought of what they would probably do if they caught me trying to escape, made me tremble with fright. I was too scared to even try to escape! I had been made a slave!
It grew dark. I occasionally heard women’s’ voices and footsteps, but they were just passing somewhere. We stood there, locked in our pillories. Except for occasional moans, we were silent. We knew what the punishment was for speaking without permission!
I heard cars start up, and drive away. I wondered if they opened the gate for themselves. The lights gradually went off in the house behind us. It was late at night. I had been expecting to be released from the pillory, but clearly we had been left here for the night. I sighed and tried to make the best of it. I clearly could not sleep. I was able to doze, half awake and half asleep.
At last, it started to grow light. I heard the other slaves start to stir, groaning and coughing, but not speaking. After several hours, the Lady who had removed our chastity devices came out, and went down the line of pillories, locked the chastity devices back on each slave in turn. When she came to me, I still had an erection. She had a small ice pack with her, which she wrapped around my erect cock. My erection immediately stared to ease. She took the ice pack off. My erection immediately started to return.
“You really are horny, aren’t you?” she said. “But I can deal with that!”
She took a small leather whip from her belt, about 10 inches long, and lashed my cock. It stung like hell! My erection faded rapidly! When I was soft enough, she quickly locked my Kali bracelet back on, before my erection could return. When her hands touched my cock, my erection started to come back again, but now the Kali was on, and started to do its painful work. My erection vanished immediately. “If you don’t get any black marks, you will be allowed to wank next Sunday” she said. “For one minute! Would you like that, slave?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” I said. She walked away, leaving me helpless. I looked down and tried to put her out of my mind. I desperately needed to wank! Now the KTB was back on, I had to try not to think about sex.
After another hour, Ladies started to come back to collect the different slaves. They put each man back in wrist and ankle shackles, and led him away, with a shock baton held ready for his balls. Every slave was completely obedient and docile as he was led away. They all knew that escape was totally impossible, and any disobedience would only earn them a shock on their balls, and undoubtedly a black mark also. I realized that the women here had developed methods which held their slaves inescapably under absolute discipline.
Finally, my supervising Lady came for me. She briefly checked my Kali bracelet was locked in place, then inspected my buttocks.
She sighed as she inspected my buttocks. “That was a hard strapping! I hope you have learned your lesson! You will be red and sore for the rest of the week! Monica is very good with the strap!”
She stroked my cheek. You did very well, Peter, for your first time. It took three or four hard strokes to make you yell! I’m pleased! I like men who try to take their punishment bravely! I’m proud to be your supervisor, Peter. And all the Ladies thought you did so well. They are all talking about you”.
“But don’t think that this means I’m going to be easy on you, Peter! I maintain strict discipline! I won’t hesitate to order an extra strapping for you, for the slightest infringement of the rules! You would be wise not to test me on this!”
“I’m going to put you back in shackles now. But look at this first. Remember that I’ll use it if I need to!” She took the shock baton from her belt, and pressed it between my legs, against my balls. I moaned. She laughed and clipped it back on her belt. I would never dare resist her whilst she had that, and she knew it! And I could never be disobedient, ever again, now I knew what the strap felt like!
She unlocked my wrists from the pillory. I stiffly moved my arms, able to move them for the first time in hours. “Hands behind your back, please!” She handcuffed me tightly with practiced ease. She was obviously very used to handcuffing men. My ankles were next released from the stocks and the shackles put back on, tightly. Finally, when I was cuffed and shackled, the upper beam was unlocked and my neck was released. I could finally stand upright again. It was the reverse of the method she used to put me in the pillory. I realized that the procedure was designed to keep me totally helpless at all times. I was never free, even for an instant.
11年前
