|Twelve Days a Slave|
|by The Technician|
|Technician666@Gmail.Com | Forum Feedback
Published eBooks by Wayne Mitchell (aka The Technician): The Perfect Sex Toy | Senior Project | Handcuff Island | I, Masochist | UMPA Eleven
|© Copyright 2016 - The Technician - Used by permission|
|Storycodes: M/f; F/f+; cell; cage; cuffs; collar; stage; trailer; transport; display; public; hum; schoolgirls; teachers; chair; punish; bdsm; spank; paddle; enslave; strap; mast; climax; cons/reluct; XX||
WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life. If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century. Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2016 by The Technician (Technician666@Gmail.Com)
|Twelve Days a Slave 5: Old-fashioned Reformed School Punishment The Technician M/f; F/f+; cell; cage; cuffs; collar; stage; trailer; transport; display; public; hum; schoolgirls; teachers; chair; punish; bdsm; spank; paddle; enslave; strap; mast; climax; cons/reluct; XX|
|story continues from part four
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Slave missy learns there is more than one kind of spanking.
This is the story of a young woman’s conviction as a terrorist and what happens to her when she is sentenced to penal slavery. Penal slavery is not impossible. The Thirteenth and Fourteenth Amendments to the Constitution of the United States of America do not NOT prohibit slavery. They only LIMIT slavery to punishment for crimes. In other words, the Constitution allows penal slavery.
After the woman is convicted, a “sentence negotiator” gets her sentence reduced to a public day of repentance followed by eleven days of public punishment. Following that, she is to serve one year of penal servitude.
This story deals with non-consensual punishment, pain, and involuntary slavery. If such topics offend you or upset you, I would advise skipping this particular book.
There are thirteen chapters to this story. The chapters can be read on their own, but the story is much better understood if the previous portions have been read. The complete story is full book length. I debated publishing it with some of my other books at Fiction4all, but decided that I would rather serialize it and post it here.
In this chapter, Slave missy is once again subject to a spanking, this time by the head of a private girl’s reformatory. Before her spanking, several of the young women from the reformatory also receive public punishment. This is a spanking chapter with bare hand, slipper, paddle and leather belt.
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Chapter Five - Missy learns how punishment is done in an old-fashioned reformed school.
Missy again woke to the smell of coffee and bacon. When she finally padded barefoot up to the front of the bus, William greeted her with a cheery, “Good morning!” Then he asked, “How is your backside this morning?” Not waiting for her to answer, he then said, “I’m not very imaginative when it comes to food– especially breakfast. I hope you don’t get tired of bacon and eggs.”
Missy waited for him to finish speaking and replied, “My ass is still a bit tender, but the redness and swelling seems to be gone. And, no, I will never get tired of bacon and eggs... especially with hot coffee.”
William just smiled at pointed at the coffee maker. Missy made herself a cup and started to sit back down at the table.
“Towel,” William said sternly, and she froze in place. After scurrying back to her bedroom, she returned with a towel which she laid over the seat before she sat down.
“Today is going to be a little tough on you,” he said. “I can’t gimmick anything today so you are going to have to endure the real deal. So, we had better grease you up with that ointment again and let you lie on your bed for an hour or so.”
Missy decided that a mouthful of egg was a good excuse for not answering him, or asking him what kind of “real deal” she was going to have to endure. So, she just nodded her head in response and continued eating.
When breakfast was over and missy had once again done the dishes, they went back to her bedroom and she lay face down on her bed. The pain was gone, but she still gasped slightly as William smeared the ointment all over her back. He seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time carefully spreading the salve on her ass. His final action was to reach between her legs and smear the greasy medicine down to the edges of her now smouldering cunt.
“That should do it,” he said suddenly and stood up. As he turned toward the door, missy raised her head and looked at him hopefully– or perhaps needfully.
The words, “Please take me high,” were in her mind, but her mouth refused to say them. Instead she just groaned softly and lay her face back down on her pillow. An hour later, William called down the hallway, “Time for our morning tour of the town.”
Missy walked down the steps of the bus with great trepidation. The so-called tour yesterday had not worked out very well. She ended the short trip almost frozen and covered in eggs and tomatoes.
“I have a surprise for you,” he said cheerily as she stepped down onto the ground. “Get yourself oiled up and meet me on the other side of the trailer.”
He threw the baby oil and baby gel to her and walked around behind the trailer. As she had the day before, she smeared the gel on as much of her body as she could reach and then smoothed it out with baby oil. She was tempted to spend extra time oiling her now aching pussy, but William’s voice from the other side of the trailer urged her to speed things up.
As she walked around the trailer, William met her with her chains. She handed him the oil and gel so he could oil her back and then stood docilely in place while he did that and put her collar, manacles and shackles in place.
“Into the cage,” he said. Missy couldn’t quite understand why he was smiling so broadly, then she looked at the cage. The cage appeared to be the same, but the trailer was very different. There was another cage, square, which went around the entire base of the trailer. Directly against the inside of the bars was something that looked somewhat like chicken wire, but it appeared to be slightly thicker and was painted black.
Around the cage itself was a thick Lexan tube with hinges on one side and a latch on the other. There were small vents equally-spaced around the bottom and the top of the tube. A large circle of Lexan was also attached to the top of the cage just beneath the attachment circle.
William opened the front of the outer cage, the front of the tube, and finally the cage itself. “I didn’t think we were going to need this until we went on tour, but I called the fabricators yesterday and they agreed– for a price– to work overnight and get it done for me.
Missy stepped up into her cage. “Remember to turn so everyone can clearly see you,” William shouted.
Missy laughed and replied, “I can year you perfectly well. You don’t have to shout.”
“We’re running late,” William shouted back and started the ATV. They were going as fast or even faster than they were the day before, but missy was protected from the wind. Just enough air was flowing through the vents so that it did not become uncomfortably warm in the cage. As they turned onto Main Street, a group of youths– perhaps the same ones from yesterday– stepped into the street and began pelting the cage with eggs, tomatoes, and other garbage. Missy smiled and waved at them as they passed by.
As they made their way back to the fairgrounds, missy reached through the bars and ran her hand along the protective tube. Most of the garbage had been stopped by the outer cage, but the eggs and tomatoes had exploded when they hit the chicken wire. She looked around her at the splashes of red and yellow which seemed to be everywhere.
“That all would have been on me,” she said quietly. Then turning to face the front, she said loudly, “Thank you, Master.” She didn’t know if he heard her or not, but she knew that she had to say it.
When they reached the stage, he again drove up the ramp and stopped beneath the cable which had already been lowered. Two members of the stage crew immediately ran forward and attached the cage. A moment later, missy began ascending into the air.
From her vantage point high above the stage, she was able to see the preparations for the afternoon punishment... but there were none. Although the small stage was still in place alongside the main stage, there was no setup for the band. Nor was there a table and chairs for a panel of judges. The only thing on the stage was an old wooden desk and an equally old wooden chair.
“I guess I will have to wait to see what he has in mind for today,” she said to herself and leaned back against the bars of the back of the cage to wait. That position was relatively comfortable, but to remain in place, she had to spread her legs and brace her feet against the bars at the front of the cage. The result was that the audience had a direct view up between her legs.
“Might as well give them something to watch,” she thought to herself as she slowly stroked herself. She didn’t want to take herself to orgasm. She just wanted to get herself to a place where she could drift and ignore the world around her. For the next several hours as the roadies worked beneath her and then as the stands slowly filled with spectators, she stared out with dreamy, almost vacant eyes, as her fingers moved slowly up and down between her legs.
She wasn’t really aware of the passage of time and it took her by surprise when William’s voice boomed out of the speakers, “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to day three of a repentant terrorist’s punishment. Today’s punishment is sponsored by The Last Resort School for Girls. Do you have an eighteen to twenty-four year old daughter who has run afoul of the law and is at risk of being sentenced to slavery? Have you tried everything to reach her but she will not change her ways? Then The Last Resort School for Girls is your– and her– final chance. With proper guidance, you can petition the courts for your daughter to be sent to The Last Resort rather than being sentenced to slavery.”
He paused as a woman dressed in a long black dress and stiffly-starched white blouse walked out on stage to join him. “I present to you, Madam Elaine Featherstone, headmistress of The Last Resort.”
“Thank you Mister Wilson,” she said in a very proper voice with a slight trace of a British accent.
Then turning toward the crowd she said, “Our philosophy is very much like the original ideals behind the reformatories. The purpose of those institutions was to bring about the reform of a young person’s life through a strict regimen of reward and punishment.”
She shook her head sadly as she continued, “Unfortunately, poor funding and bad staffing resulted in reformatories becoming no more than a training ground for hardened criminals and many were closed or abandoned by state, local, and federal governments.”
Squaring her shoulders she said firmly, “That mistake will not be repeated at The Last Resort School for Girls. We pride ourselves on the close supervision we maintain for all students... and staff. With proper direction our girls graduate from The Last Resort ready to go out into the world as useful citizens.”
She made a motion with her hands and four stage hands pulled the ancient desk to the center of the stage. Once it was in place, one of them pulled the equally old chair out to sit alongside it.
Once everything was properly in place, the headmistress clapped her hands several times and a line of young women was led onto the stage by several women who were dressed in black skirts and white blouses similar to what she was wearing
All nine of the young women were wearing old-fashioned school uniforms including plaid skirts and dark blue blazers worn over white blouses. They were all also wearing cowl masks to cover most of their faces. A teacher followed the line up on stage. She was also wearing a cowl mask. The ten masked women were lined up at the edge of the stage where they stood, basically at attention.
“We protect the identity of our students,” Madam Featherstone said firmly, “even when they are subject to public punishment.” She paused and gestured toward the end of the line. “The same is true for our staff,” she added. The displeasure was obvious on her face.
“For today’s demonstration, we have chosen three students who are guilty of minor infractions, three whose deeds are mid-range, and three whose deeds are severe.” Her face again took on a look of extreme displeasure and she said, “The staff person, obviously, is the most serious infraction of all.”
She then clapped her hands and the first three young women walked over to the front of the desk and bent their bodies over its surface. Meanwhile, Madam Featherstone sat primly on the chair.
For several minutes nothing happened. From the rising sound level, the audience was starting to get restless when she clapped her hands once very loudly. The crowd again became quiet, and one of the young women pulled herself up from the desk and walked over to stand beside her. When she gestured with her hand the girl laid herself over the Madam’s lap.
“Count,” she said loudly as she raised her arm and brought it down smartly across the plaid of the girl’s dress.
“One,” the student barked out.
Another muffled slap sounded through the arena.
“Two,” the girl dutifully counted.
At the seventh swat, the girl began crying. By the ninth she was sobbing heavily. Finally she was able to sob out, “Twelve,” and the spanking stopped.
“Return,” Madam Featherstone said curtly and the girl slowly rose from her lap and returned to lay herself over the desk. The next girl hesitantly walked over to the headmistress and lowered herself over her lap.
Again Mistress Elaine gave the command to count, and again she brought her hand down smartly on the plaid dress covering the young woman’s ass.
Again, the girl shouted out, “One!”
This girl, however, was crying by the third slap and was shaking in uncontrollable tears by the fifth slap. The headmistress pressed the girl tightly against her lap with both hands and said sternly, “If you can’t control yourself, we will have to start over. Do you want that?”
“No, Mistress Featherstone,” she sobbed back.
“Then count properly,” Madam Featherstone said as she once again brought down her hand.
There were still tears and sobs, but the girl was able to choke out, “Six,” and the spanking continued. The “Twelve” was very shaky and almost not heard by much of the audience, but the girl was able to complete the count.
At the command of “Return” the girl joined her fellow students at the desk and the third girl draped herself over the headmistress.
It was hard to tell if the headmistress was hitting harder with each girl or they were just weaker-willed, but this girl screeched at the first strike and began sobbing without giving the count.
“OK, then,” she said loudly. “if you won’t count, we will double the punishment.”
The only response from the girl was another series of sobs, so her hand came down once more on the poor girl’s plaid-clad ass.
“One,” said someone in the audience. When the headmistress’s hand came down again, more of the crowd said, “Two.” As the spanking continued, more and more of the crowd joined in the count. Even so, their numbers were almost drowned out by the girl’s loud screeches and sobs. Amazingly, she was able to maintain that volume all the way up to the twenty-forth spank.
When she was finally done, the headmistress pushed the wailing girl onto the floor. She stood up, pointed at the back of the stage and said disdainfully, “Wall! Nose! Now!”
The crying girl slowly pushed herself to her feet and staggered to the back wall of the stage where she stood facing the wall. She then slowly shuffled her feet forward until her face– or at least her nose– was touching the back wall.
“All of you!” Mistress Elaine screamed and the two other girls jumped up from the desk and scurried to join their schoolmate at the back wall. They duplicated her foot shuffling and soon they too were standing with their noses against the wall.
“Next group,” the headmistress ordered, and three more students walked over to the desk and settled themselves across it. Three teachers accompanied the students, and once the top portion of their bodies was lying prone across the desk, they each stood behind one student and flipped her dress up onto her back exposing the girl’s plain white panties. The dress was then tucked into its own waistband so that it would not fall back down when the girl stood up.
Mistress Elaine, meanwhile, sat and waited patiently. When all three students were properly prepared, she clapped once and the first student rose and came over to the chair. The girl handed something to the head mistress and lay down over her lap.
The headmistress gave no instructions this time, but instead slammed down smartly on the panty-clad ass with the slipper which had been handed to her.
“One,” the girl yelled loudly.
The slipper smacked down again.
“Two,” the girl cried.
Another loud smack.
The girl had never screamed throughout the slippering.
“Return,” ordered the head mistress and the girl returned to lay herself over the desk. Her legs below the white panties were now red and splotched where the slipper had struck bare skin.
The next girl walked quickly over and lay across the headmistress’s lap. Again no instructions were given and again the girl counted all twelve strokes without crying out. She was ordered to return and the next girl replaced her. She, too, stoically counted as Mistress Elaine heated up her ass with the slipper.
She did not, however, reach twelve in total stoicism. On the tenth stroke she screamed “Ten, oh God that hurts. Please Mistress, I won’t do it again.”
The headmistress’s response was to slam the slipper once again into the screaming girl’s ass. “Eleven,” she choked out and began wailing piteously. She managed to count the twelfth stroke, but almost immediately danced up from the headmistress’s lap and began rubbing her tortured behind.
Madam Featherstone reached up and pulled the crying girl back over her lap. Slap! Slap! Slap! The slipper slammed repeated down on the now-struggling girl’s ass.
The headmistress then said loudly, “Wall! And maintain proper decorum or we will repeat your slippering at a level three.”
The girl again stood. It was obvious it was taking all of her will power to prevent her hands from going to her throbbing ass cheeks. She sobbed heavily and then drew in a deep breath that seemed to calm her. At least it calmed her enough so that she could walk unsteadily over to join the first three students with her nose pressed against the back wall of the stage.
Without any prompting, the other two students pushed themselves up from the desk and joined the line at the back wall.
Mistress Elaine once more clapped her hands and the final three students walked out and placed themselves over the desk. Again three teachers came up behind them and tucked their school dresses into their waistbands. The teachers then stepped back slightly and stood quietly for a moment as if they were waiting for something.
What they were waiting for was a command from the headmistress. Madam Featherstone clapped her hands twice and each of the teachers reached forward and grasped the waistbands of the girls panties. With one quick pull, all three students were displaying their naked charms to the cheering audience.
The headmistress waited patiently for the applause, cheers, and whistles to die down. Then she clapped her hands once and the first student rose from the desk and waddled over to the chair. Her panties were still around her ankles as she lay across the headmistress’s lap.
Mistress Elaine held up what the girl had handed her so the audience could see what it was. It was a short black leather paddle that looked somewhat like a square shovel. The surface of the paddle itself was about six inches wide and ten to twelve inches long. The handle was about eight inches long. She wiggled the paddle above her head so the crowd could see that it was very stiff. Then she brought it down with great force on the girl’s naked ass.
There was a loud screech followed almost immediately by the word, “One.” Each slap resounded through the arena as leather struck again and again. The slaps were followed by a short yelp or screech and the proper number. After the twelfth strike, the girl got up and shuffled her way slowly back to the desk. Her naked ass was now bright red. Her ass cheeks were quivering as the girl sobbed silently into the desk.
The next girl rose and waddled over to the headmistress. She lay across Mistress Elaine’s lap with her fingertips and toes on the floor. Obviously she had some sort of training either at the school or elsewhere. She was also evidently no stranger to being spanked. She grunted slightly with each blow and loudly called out the number. When the twelve swats with the paddle were complete, she rose and returned to the desk.
The last girl now stumbled over to the chair. Somehow her panties has stopped a few inches above her ankles and hobbled her walk worse than if they had been all the way down. She was already crying before she even lowered herself over Madam Featherstone’s lap.
“I didn’t do it,” she said through her sobs as she lay down. Mistress Elaine’s response was the first loud smack of the leather paddle.
“One, I’m innocent,” the girl said. Her voice was quivering, but her actual sobs had stopped.
The paddle slammed down again.
“Two, I’m innocent,” the girl said again.
The paddle slammed down again and again. And again and again the girl responded with the count and the words, “I’m innocent.” The only difference was that her voice became slightly louder and the quiver of her sobs began to overwhelm her words.
Finally the twelfth blow landed. The girl’s voice for some reason became very clear as she counted, “Twelve, I’m innocent.”
The headmistress then said softly, almost not loud enough to be picked up by the overhead microphones, “Wall.”
The girl stood and said calmly, “I didn’t do it.” She then walked as quickly as her panty-hobbled legs would allow and placed her nose against the back wall. Her ass was bright red as she stood upright with her nose pressed firmly against the wall.
The headmistress clapped her hands twice and the two girls still bent over the desk jumped upright and waddled over to join their sisters against the wall. When the three who had been spanked with the leather paddle were standing in a line, it was apparent that the first two girls asses were much deeper red than the third girl’s. It was a significant enough difference that many in the crowd were whispering and pointing.
One voice, more than a whisper, was heard to say, “Madam Featherstone knew the girl was innocent and held back.”
Evidently she heard that also, because at that point she rose from her chair and faced the audience. “You can be assured,” she said in a voice that sounded like controlled anger, “that I won’t hold back for this last punishment.”
The crowd immediately became quiet. The headmistress then walked over to where the woman dressed in the black of a teacher stood awaiting punishment. She once again faced the crowd and spoke loudly. “Yes,” she said, “I held back in the punishment of that last girl.” She looked over to where the nine girls were standing against the wall before saying, “But she was not innocent. She struck a staff member, and for that she had to be punished.”
Turning back to the masked teacher, she said very angrily, “But she had reason to strike. You attempted to force yourself on her!” She huffed loudly. “But she wasn’t quite as docile as you thought she was, and she fought back.” She paused and then added through gritted teeth, “... unlike the other students which I have since found out about.”
Again the headmistress turned to the crowd and said, “We do NOT take advantage of our students! This woman is no longer a teacher at The Last Resort.”
She clapped her hands and the dozen or so teachers who had escorted the students onto the stage swarmed around the object of the headmistress’s wrath. They violently tore the clothing from her body leaving her standing naked. Missy gasped loudly because she saw something the audience evidently had not yet seen.
Madam Elaine Featherstone, headmistress of The Last Resort School for Girls, then reached up and tore the cowl mask from the former teacher’s head revealing a totally bald scalp. The crowd suddenly saw what missy had already seen. There was a brand above the woman’s left breast and another directly above her cunt.
“She was duly convicted and sentenced to a life of slavery,” the headmistress said. “She cannot be redeemed because any payments on her behalf go to aid her victims in their recovery.”
Turning again to face the students against the wall she said, “I paid seven million dollars for her from my personal wealth. That is one million for each of the six students whom she molested... and another million for the one whom she could not overcome.”
Turning back to the crowd she said, “I have named her ‘Example,’ because she is going to be an example to the students and faculty of The Last Resort for the rest of her life. She will have menial duties at the school, and at the beginning of each term, she will receive seven lashes with the punishment belt. One for each student whom she harmed or attempted to harm.”
She then faced slave example and said firmly, “Take your position.”
As the slave walked over to the desk and placed her upper body across it, one of the teachers handed the headmistress a long piece of black leather. Except for the fact that it was black and shiny, it looked more like a razor strop than a belt.
The headmistress walked over to the desk. She leaned down and said something quietly to slave example. Then stepping back slightly from the desk and standing to one side to allow for the best swing, she arced the belt through the air to land with an extremely loud “Thwack!” across the slave’s ass.
Slave example screamed loudly, but then controlled herself and counted, “One.” After a short pause, she added, “I’m guilty.”
There was some mild applause and a significant amount of talking in the crowd.
The belt whistled slightly as it once again swung through the air.
“Two, I’m guilty.”
“Three, I’m guilty.”
“Four, I’m guilty.”
“Five, I’m guilty.”
“Six, I’m guilty.”
The murmuring in the crowd became even louder when the headmistress stopped at this point. The slave’s ass was marked with wide, raised welts. There was a slight trickle of blood clearly evident.
The murmuring increased when Madam Featherstone walked over to the wall and reached down to pull the ninth student’s panties up over her pink ass. She then untucked the skirt and leaned in to say something to the student who had proclaimed her innocence.
The student accompanied her back to the desk and the headmistress handed her the thick, black belt. The student stood breathing heavily for several moments, then with a loud grunt she reared back and brought the belt down with the force of her whole body. It was not a practiced, graceful swing like the headmistress had used, but it was a very powerful swing.
Slave example jolted upright. “Aiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.” Her scream echoed through the arena.
“Count it!” snapped the student. “Say it!” she ordered.
Slave example’s body quivered and shook as she tried to regain control of herself. Finally she choked out, “Seven! I’m guilty.”
“Louder!” ordered the student.
Slave example knew that the girl was not interested in the count. “I’m guilty!” slave example screamed.
“Louder!” the student ordered again.
“I’m guilty,” slave example cried. “I’m guilty! I’m guilty! I’m guilty!”
The student dropped the belt on the stage floor. The headmistress put her arm around the student’s shoulders and together they walked off the stage.
The teachers, who had been waiting at the edge of the stage, went over to the students still standing at the wall and adjusted their clothing. Then they walked with them off the stage leaving just slave example laying across the desk in the middle of the stage.
Madam Featherstone came back up on stage and walked to the front of the stage. “I sponsored today because I wanted the opportunity to assure the public that your daughters will be treated properly at The Last Resort.”
She turned slightly and said in a loud voice, “Slave example, come here and tell these people why you were punished today and why you are a slave for the rest of your life.”
Slave example rose shakily from the desk and walked unsteadily over to join the headmistress. She dropped to her knees and bowed her head before saying loudly, “I’m guilty, Mistress.”
“Follow me,” the headmistress ordered, and she again walked off the stage.
Since she had not been ordered to stand, slave example crawled behind her and down the steps. She was still crawling as the teachers and students disappeared around the end of the grandstands.
William came back on stage and said. “Madam Featherstone will be rejoining us in just a moment.”
“She will administer today’s punishment to our repentant terrorist,” he said with a flourish. “There will be 15 hand spanks, 15 with the slipper, 15 with the paddle, and that will all be finished out with one with the belt.”
As the cage slowly descended to the stage floor, the headmistress returned to the stage and took her place on her chair. William unlocked the cage padlock and then removed missy’s chains and shackles. She was already whimpering lightly.
“You can get through this,” he said softly to her. “Go into the pain, and you will find it isn’t near as bad.”
He then led missy over to the chair and waited until she draped herself over Madam Featherstone’s lap.
“I expect you to count,” the headmistress said sternly, “but if you miss a count we will not start over.” Her voice changed to almost amusement as she added, “We don’t want to violate the terms of your sentencing.”
Slave missy clenched her ass cheeks tightly awaiting the first spank. “You know better than that,” the headmistress said softly. She then patted missy’s ass and said, “Relax your ass so you can properly receive your spanking.”
Slave missy did as commanded and Madam Elaine began with a loud slap of her hand across missy’s ass.
Slave missy yelped, but quickly called out, “One!”
The spanks were evenly spaced, and each fell on a different portion of her ass, so Missy was able to handle the pain and had no trouble calling out the count.
When she counted, “Fifteen,” the headmistress paused as a teacher scurried across the stage to hand her the slipper.
With the first strike of the slipper missy’s yelp was much louder and much higher pitched. She was still able, however, to call out the count, “Sixteen!”
The slipper hurt more than a hand spanking, but the pain was still bearable– especially since the headmistress continued at an even pace and continued to land each blow on a different portion of her ass.
Slave missy, however, could feel her ass growing very warm. She could also feel her legs kicking on their own as her body attempted to escape the blows. She also realized that her yelp at each strike was starting to grow into a whimpering moan that extended to fill the space between each smack. The audience was starting to count along with her.
At the count of “Thirty!” Madam Featherstone again paused so that one of the teachers could bring her the leather paddle. When that wide, black, piece of leather came down on missy’s already inflamed ass, she did not yelp, she screamed. And the time between the blows was not a whimpering moan. It was an extended scream.
The headmistress picked up her pace. With each blow missy’s scream became louder for just an instant before falling back to her continuous wail. She was no longer able to count the strokes, but now most of the crowd was counting for her.
Slave missy wailed and thrashed on the headmistress’s lap even after the count reached forty-five. Finally she realized that the blows were no longer falling and slowly began to control herself.
The headmistress waited until missy’s legs had stopped kicking and her sobs were beginning to quiet, then she said, “Lay yourself over the desk.”
Slave missy groaned as she attempted to stand. She felt William’s hands help her up and slowly guide her over to the desk. “It’s just one,” he said. “Stay on the desk afterwards. Stay there until I come back for you.”
Slave missy lay over the desk. Her hands were at her sides with her hands gripping the front edge of the desk. William adjusted them so that her arms were still at her side, but her hands were up by her shoulders. “We don’t want you getting your hands hurt by accident,” he said softly.
The wood of the desk felt rough against missy’s bare skin. Her breath had returned to normal. She was no longer whimpering, but she was quivering. Her shaking was not from the pain she had experienced. It was from the pain she was anticipating from that nasty black, leather belt.
She jumped as a hand touched her ass. It wasn’t William. The touch was too soft and the fingers were smaller. It had to be the headmistress. “Your skin is red. There is some purple, but no bleeding. The skin has not been broken.” The hand stroked missy’s ass again. “I will try to not make you bleed, but I can’t be sure. The punishment belt is a terrible weapon.”
The hand withdrew from missy’s ass. She continued to lie across the desk. She was now almost shivering violently with fear. Her breath was coming in short gasps. She was simultaneously praying that the headmistress would strike soon, and at the same time hoping that she never would.
She could hear the soft swish as the belt swung through the air. She heard the loud “Crack!” as it hit her ass. Then pain exploded through her body. Her scream was louder than she had ever screamed, except when she was branded. Her body rose so that she was hanging at a forty-five degree angle over the desk. She was shaking violently, causing her hips– and her cunt– to slam against the front lip of the desk. Finally she collapsed back across the top of the desk. She could hear the roar of applause as the darkness of unconsciousness slowly enveloped her.
Missy could feel someone softly rubbing her shoulders. She opened her eyes and William was standing on the opposite side of the desk from where her ass was on display to the audience– many of whom were pushing and shoving each other on the track in front of the stage as they struggled to get pictures with their cellphones. The professional photographers remained higher up in the stands where they could shoot over the crowd with their telephoto lenses and get ultra-closeup shots for the evening news.
“I’m sorry, missy,” he said as he continued to stroke her shoulders, “but the sentencing agreement mandates that you be displayed in the cage for at least an hour following each punishment.”
Her mind was still fogged with pain. All she really understood was that she was being ordered back into the cage. “Yes, Master,” she said groggily.
As she stood up, William came around the desk and helped her back to the cage. She held up her hands so he could attach the manacles, but instead he threw them onto the floor of the cage. “Not today,” he said. “I think the court would agree that there is no threat that you would escape.”
He closed and locked the door of the cage before signaling someone off stage. The cage rose slowly up to its position above the stage.
Some of the crowd still mingled in front of the stage trying to get pictures that they could show their friends, but most were filing out of the grandstands and heading back to their cars. Soon even most of the stage hands were gone. It had taken them only a moment to load the desk and chair into a van from the school.
A short while later, William drove the ATV and trailer up onto the stage. Slave missy could hear him talking quietly to one of the stage hands and what appeared to be a bailiff. She couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation. The three men stood quietly on the stage for a long time.
Finally she could hear William say, “OK. Document it and let’s bring her down.” The bailiff-type person stepped out onto the stage and took a single picture with a small camera. He then nodded to the stage hand and the cage began to descend.
Once the cage was latched in place, William pulled it very slowly back to the bus and drove the ATV and the cage up into the large trailer. He opened the outer cage and the inner protective tube. Then, as he opened the cage itself, missy fell into his arms. She wasn’t unconscious, but she wasn’t really conscious either.
William carried her to the door of the bus. “Missy,” he said, “I can’t carry you through the doorway. I’ll help you, but you’ll have to get back to your bedroom on your own.”
Summoning strength that she didn’t know she had, slave missy willed her legs to carry her to the back of the RV. She then fell face first onto her bed.
She could feel the coolness of the ointment as William rubbed it into her skin. She groaned slightly from the combination of pleasure and pain which the ointment– and his hands– caused. “Just lay here,” he said softly. “I‘ll be back in a little while to apply more salve.” She didn’t hear him leave the room. She was already in a deep, sleep-like trance as her body protected her from the pain.
William returned twice more to rub ointment on her backside. With each application, there was less pain and more pleasure. So much so, in fact, that the third time he rubbed the ointment into her ass cheeks, she found herself grinding her front against the bed.
“Do you need me to give you pleasure?” he asked softly.
The heat of embarrassment caused missy’s ass to momentarily feel like it was on fire. She could not face him. She pressed her face into her pillow and answered softly, “Yes.”
William’s hand moved down between missy’s legs. He was even more gentle than he had been applying the ointment. He reached beneath her and slid his hand upward across her slit, causing her to gasp. He then wiggled his fingers or something so that it felt as if his hand were undulating against her sex.
His fingers slid slightly into her cunt and then moved up her labia to her clit, which was already engorged. His thumb went into her pussy like a small penis while his fingers toyed with her clit. Occasionally he would squeeze between his fingers and his thumb causing her to gasp or breathe deeply.
Her hips were now bucking heavily, but he was able to keep his hand in place. His middle finger was very lightly on the tip of her clit. The fingers on either side were massaging the edges of it as his hand slid up and down.
Panting heavily, she said plaintively, “I need to cum. Make me cum, Master. Please make me cum.”
William continued lightly massaging missy’s labia and clit, but now he was holding his other hand over her body. She had turned her head and was begging him, “Make me cum. Make me cum. Make me cum. Please, Master, make me cum.”
He brought his other hand down swiftly and delivered one sharp smack to her red and swollen behind. “Slave missy,” he said, “I order you to cum.”
This time it was pleasure that exploded in her body. William kept his hand in place, pressing firmly against her sex as she rode the crest of her orgasm. When she had calmed back down, he said simply, “Rest while I fix us supper. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
William fixed a couple of steaks which he cooked on a small grill outside. After supper, he suggested that missy go back to her bedroom so that he could apply more ointment. As he was smearing the salve on her ass, she spoke, “Master, may I ask a question?”
William chuckled slightly and said, “You just did... but yes, you may ask a question.”
“Earlier,” she began, “you told me to go into the pain. I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh,” he responded. Then he took a deep breath and began to explain, “Pain is the body’s opinion of how badly you are hurt. The higher the pain, the worse your body thinks the damage is.”
He wiped his hands on a small towel before continuing. “And if you run away from the pain, your mind is agreeing with your body. So the body thinks that you are hurt even worse... which means higher pain... which causes you to run away from the pain... which... well, I think you see where this goes.”
Missy pushed herself up onto one elbow so she could look at him. He continued, “But if you really trust that someone is not going to truly harm you... if you know that your body is basically safe... then you do not need to run from the pain. In fact, you embrace it. You open yourself up to it.”
He ran his hand lightly down her back. “When you do that, your mind is telling your body that it’s not as bad off as it thinks. And the warnings of damage and harm– what we call pain– just become another sensation.”
He patted her very lightly on the top of her ass, just where it merges into the back. “And that makes the pain much easier to handle.” He stroked her ass with his fingertips. “Some people are even able to turn those sensations into pleasure rather than pain.”
He reached up and turned her head slightly so that he could look directly into her eyes. “Of course,” he said, “that means that you have to totally trust whoever or whatever is delivering the pain.” He paused before saying slowly, “In your case, that means that you have to trust me.”
“Oh,” was all missy said in response.
“Tomorrow,” William said, “your punishment will be delivered by a machine. I am promising you that the settings on that machine will be at the minimum needed to create the necessary effect. If you trust me on that, you will be able to withstand the punishment. If not....” He let his voice fade away into silence.
“Sleep,” he said as he left her bedroom and closed the door. A few moments later missy heard the clang of the security door closing at the other end of the hallway.
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story continued in part six
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