Thursday, 31 January 2013

Prison Punishment

A story about life in India. From the old website By Fenton Creek
In parts of India it is not uncommon for offenders to be given an ‘off the record’ caning for minor offences. Records of the crime are then conveniently lost but a blind eye is turned as this reduces police paperwork and court time. This article, from the Old Delhi Times, is an interview with a young woman caught stealing from a market stall in an undisclosed Indian city.
Old Delhi Times: So, tell us how it all started?
Nita (name changed): I was in the market with my friend Vara (name also changed) and saw some nice fabric. My Masi (aunt) wanted to make a dress for my little cousin and the cloth was just right, but I could not afford it. So while Vara distracted the stallholder I took it and slipped it into my bag.
ODT: But you got caught?
 Nita: Yes, another stallholder saw what happened. He grabbed me and when Vara tried to run away she was caught as well. Then a Constable came and took us to the Police station.
ODT: What happened there?
Nita: We were taken to the Inspector’s office and had to wait on a bench outside. There were two girls from the local Senior School waiting, and a well-dressed woman who was about thirty-five years old. She went in first, then came out a few minutes later and a Policewoman took her away. We were then called in.
ODT: To see the Inspector?
Nita: Yes. He told us that we had a choice. We could go to the Magistrate and possibly get a fine – which we could not afford, or perhaps go to prison for a few days.
ODT: Did that scare you?
Nita: Yes. Vara’s friend had been in prison and it was not nice, especially for a young woman.
ODT: And the choice? Nita: The Inspector said that instead of going to the Magistrate, we could have five strokes of the cane each, at the Police station that afternoon. That would then be the end of it. No fine. No record.
ODT: And you accepted?
Nita: I did not think there was any other way. The Inspector called for the Policewoman and she took us away to another building in the police compound.
ODT: What happened there?
Nita: She opened the door and told us to go in. There was a big bare room with small windows high up and a toilet in the corner. There was another door opposite.
ODT: Was anybody else in there?
Nita: Yes. There was a woman and she was naked! I realized that it was the same woman that had been in the Inspector’s office.
ODT: Then what happened?
Nita: The Policewoman gave us a plastic bag each. She told us to get undressed and put our clothes into the bag. She said we could keep our chappal (sandals) but nothing else.
ODT: So you did as you were told.
Nita: I asked why we had to take our clothes off. She said: “Cane is on bare bottom. Also the police compound is unlocked, but without clothes you cannot sneak away. You will get everything back after your punishment.”
ODT: Did you know it was a bare bottom caning?
Nita: No! I was wearing a salwaar chemiz (traditional long loose shirt and trouser suit) so I thought that the cane would not hurt so much. Vara had a saree and underskirt so she thought same thing.
ODT: So you stripped?
Nita: What else could we do? It was embarrassing. Nobody ever sees me naked; I only take my clothes off to have a bath. But we stripped and put our clothes in the bags.
ODT: Then what happened? Nita: Then the two schoolgirls came in and they had to strip to their shoes and socks. All five of us were now naked. After about five minutes the other door opened and a woman wearing an Inspector’s uniform came in. We were told to go through the door.
ODT: What did you find?
Nita: It was a small open yard with brick walls. There was a sort of a narrow bench with a leather top in the shape of upside down V. Beside it there was another policewoman holding a lathi (type of short whip carried by police). The Inspector lady called the lady we saw earlier over to the bench. She had to lean right over it. It must have been very shameful for her as we could see all her privates. The Inspector nodded to the Policewoman. She walked over to the bench, raised up the lathi, then whipped it across the lady’s bottom.
ODT: How did she react? Nita: She made a little shriek but that was all. The Inspector nodded and the policewoman whipped her again. The lady stayed quiet but I saw her body go tense. After the next stroke she cried out a little bit, same for the next two strokes. She was then allowed to stand up.
ODT: What next?
Nita: Now it was Vara’s turn. She was bent over the bench as well. First stroke she just gasped, second one she cried out, third one she started crying. The Policewoman waited a few seconds then gave the fourth stroke, Vara cried out: “No more!” Then the fifth stroke and she was allowed to get up trembling and sobbing. She came over to me and I pulled her close to comfort me. It was very strange to be naked and hugging another naked woman.
ODT: And then? It was the turn of one of the schoolgirls. She bent over the bench and took her five strokes without much noise; she seemed to just gasp instead of crying or screaming.
ODT: Please carry on: Nita: Now it was the turn of the other schoolgirl. She bent over the bench but after first stroke she stood up again rubbing her bottom. The Policewoman told her to bend over again, but she was crying and refusing. The Inspector and Policewoman grabbed her, put handcuffs on her behind her back then bent her over the bench again. The Inspector held her shoulders down while the strokes were given. She screamed every time, it was terrible noise. When she got up and had the handcuffs taken away she just walked about sobbing and rubbing her bottom.
ODT: Now it was your turn? Nita: Yes, I think that going last was the worst. I bent over the bench and it felt so shameful as everybody could see my bottom and my private parts. I was all tense, I did not know when the first lash was coming. The first one startled me but it was not so painful as I expected. Then second one came right in the same place, very painful but I still kept quiet. Third one, though, was too much and I just screamed out. I was panting and could hardly breathe. I tried to stand up but the policewoman just pushed me back over the bench. Fourth one was not as hard as the others, then after that the Policewoman was whispering to the Inspector and I hoped it was over.
ODT: And was it?
Nita: No, I had started to relax, then last lash came. I screamed out and tried not to cry. Then the Policewoman tapped my shoulder and told me to get up.
ODT: Then what happened?
Nita: We were sent back inside again. Vara, and one of the schoolgirls were still sobbing. Vara and I gave each other a hug. After that we had to wait for about five minutes, still in the nude, before another policewoman came back with our clothes. We were then allowed to get dressed and go home.
ODT: Would you ever go stealing again? Nita: (laughs) – Oh no, I have learned my lesson. The End

The Accommodation

"I am.. sorry, really", the plump lady spoke loudly as she massaged her bottom. The woman in uniform had applied 2 strokes across her buttocks. She instantly moved a few steps to the side to avoid the strap from hitting her again. She did so as she tried to soothe the pain away and at the same time pleading for mercy. whack! The final stroke landed in the middle just after she had taken her hands off her throbbing behind.She had just tried to wipe off her tears.
I was amazed at what was transpiring before me. Back at the gate, she had spoken rudely to me and this had le dme to report her to the head of the institution. The head acted there and then. She was a lady of thirty who was firm believer in discipline.She was a no nonsense lady. She always wore trousers as part of her uniform and had a thin strap suspended from her waist. She had sent Jemimah, who was in her late 30's , to pick me up at the gate. Jemimah arrogantly talked to me, and was reckless with her words. she didn't seem to like the way i had dressed and somehow thought i was a spoiled brat. Now with tears in her face and sobbing silently, She quickly turned and picked my bags and asked me to follow her so that she could show me my room. As she walked ahead, i could see her somewhat large behind but i felt sorry and i knew it was really sore. We proceeded down the corridor, turned left then entered the first room marked with a chalk, 'No 6'. She slowly and humbly apologized before proceeding to brief me of my new room. I would be spending the coming weeks in that room. "I am sorry, to have caused you the punishment, its only that i was angry and the only thing that came to my mind was to report it to the head" , I explained myself to her. "Never mind, it has passed and i have learnt my lesson", she replied. I hugged her and as she turned, i slightly pat her on her ass. It was quite large. She smiled and left.

Tuesday, 29 January 2013

Secrets Unleashed...


"Some women have weals on their behinds. Those tight jeans cover everything", confesses Monica who comes from a remote village

New Spanking Series To Be Published in The Blogs

A breathtaking ordeal by african women and punishment they have to endure 
on day to day basis

and they end up having weals..
  • behind the bedroom walls
  • in village Courts
  • in Prison
  • from Jealous Friends
  • Discipline Among Women
We will be bringing in a series of real life accounts and where possible images. 

"Some women have weals on their behinds. Those tight jeans cover everything", confesses Monica in a remote vilage

Busia Woman Punished For Late Coming

A 29-year-old woman from Buwanda village in Masafu sub-county, Busia district kesia kacha was recently given some strokes of the cane, for allegedly coming late in a women's meeting.
kesia was allegedly forced to the ground recently by the village council chairperson.
kesia, narrated the story to her friend Sarah saying she arrived at the meeting a few minutes past the starting time. She was forced into a school classroom, where they had packed a bundle of sticks.
"I was asked why I came late and what example I would give to the young members of the group," kesia narrated to her friend.
"No sooner had I defended my late coming than I was forced to the floor for canes," she continued.
kesia said that she had not even known why the women had called the meeting, but only to be welcomed by the strokes.




Monday, 28 January 2013

The Riding Crop

(****, M/f, Severe, nc cropping)

A girl recollects a severe whipping with a crop. (Approximately 2,577 words. Originally published 2007-11.)
My name is Marla and the worst whipping in my life happened when I was fourteen.
It was fully deserved. My friend Kara and I were seriously into riding back then. We rode every weekend and several afternoons a week. We had all the outfits and accouterments -- knee-high leather boots, jodhpurs, riding jackets, and beautiful black leather riding crops. At the time I thought all that terribly sophisticated and was seriously thinking I might make a career of riding. (I did not. I'm a mortgage broker.)
I can barely remember what started the argument. It was about a boy, I know that. Josh Something. Isn't that funny I can't remember his name? But at the time, he was really important to me. Kara liked him also, and I guess he'd spoken to her and she thought that meant he liked her better than me. I remember burning with jealousy and being extremely angry with Kara. She didn't realize how upset I was and kept going on and on about Josh, while I just seethed.
We were out on the south course, which was one of my favorites. It had hills to climb and streams to jump and was slightly dangerous and only for advanced riders. I should have been paying more attention to Rubarb, my horse, but I was distracted by Kara's talking and more focused on my bitter feelings. We were going up a narrow trail of gravel, an old streambed, when Rubarb slipped. It wasn't anything as he immediately caught himself, but I wasn't paying attention and when jolted out of my dark thoughts I panicked and yelled sharply, causing Rubarb to bolt. That sent a shower of gravel backward which set off Black Lightning, Kara's horse, and suddenly both horses were out of control.
I almost fell off and felt an icy flood of genuine fear for my life. I clung to Rubarb's neck and managed to hold on until he calmed at the crest of the hill. Lightning was right on his heels. When both horses were finally relaxed, I leaped off Rubarb and whirled on Kara, who was pale-faced and trembling.
I was furious, and somehow blamed Kara for the whole mess. "You bitch!" I screamed, and I remember I pointed my riding crop at her face.
"What'd I do?" She looked startled at my attack.
I still feel awful about what happened next. It's painful to admit the truth, but I need to face it. The truth was that I didn't have any reason to attack Kara at all and I knew it. But I was angry at her and the startled horses and my fear had enraged me and I needed a scapegoat. Kara was convienently available.
When she posed me that question, it infuriated me because I didn't have a valid answer. So instead of answering, I struck her. With the crop in my hand. Across her face.
I was sorry I'd done it as soon as I'd done it. Maybe even while I was doing it. But it was too late. Kara stared at me, her blue eyes wide with terror and shock, her pretty face marred with a swelling red mark across her left cheek. She clutched at it and screamed.
It must have been horribly painful and I felt sick as I looked at her. "Oh my God, Kara, I'm sorry!" I cried, but she was having none of it. She was terribly frightened and naturally furious, and I suppose she was mostly in shock at what she felt was a betrayal. We'd had our occasional spats, but never anything violent. I'd certainly never hit her before, not intentionally.
Before I could plead my case she had leaped on Lightning and was racing back to the stables. In the commotion Rubarb had wandered a little so it was a moment before I could follow. My belly was aching and I felt dizzy and wanted to vomit. I was horrified at what I'd done. How could I have hit my best friend? And it wasn't just a slap, but a cruel blow to the face with a heavy riding crop. Criminal!
I hadn't really been thinking of the consequences of my action until I got back to the stables. I was long behind Kara and by the time I got there, the riding manager was waiting for me and his face was dark with fury. Suddenly it occurred to me this wasn't just between Kara and I -- this was serious trouble.
I didn't see Kara as she was getting some medical treatment inside. John didn't even talk to me, but merely stood and watched as I took care of Rubarb. It was like he was guarding me in case I made an escape attempt or attacked someone else. I didn't want to talk, either. I could hardly look at the man. I was stunned and dazed by the events. I could hardly believe this had happened.
Kara's parents arrived first, then mine. It was awful. I saw Kara's mom glaring at me with pure venom and I didn't want to be anywhere near the house. I hung out in the stables, petting Rubarb and feeding him carrots. I could sense doom and fury everywhere and I wondered what was going to happen.
It must have been an hour later when a posse emerged. Kara was with them, nestled tightly against her mother. She was still weeping a bit. I stared at her in sick horror: the red mark was now a thick, swollen welt, vividly colored with dark reds and purples. The mark stretched all the way from her chin to her ear. The flap on the end of the crop must have hit her there because her ear was swollen and red. I was in disbelief at what I'd done. I started to cry myself just looking at her.
My parents were looking at me like I was a murderer. I felt like shit. I wanted desperately to hide in my mom's arms. I felt like a young child. But I was fourteen, no longer a little girl, and my parents, it was clear from their grim expressions, were fully on Kara's side.
"We've made a decision," said my father. "I don't know why you hit Kara and I don't even care. It was wrong, cruelly wrong, and there is absolutely no way such an act could ever be justified."
I nodded, sniffing and wiping away the tears that wouldn't stop. Kara, I noticed, wouldn't look me in the eye.
"You are more than old enough to know better. What you did was disgusting, vile. You must be punished."
Again I nodded. I look at Kara. "I'm so sorry!" I cried, but my father shushed me.
"You'll have a chance in a moment to apologize. First I want to explain your punishment."
This did not have a good sound and I felt dread encompass me.
"Normally your mother and I aren't the biggest supporters of corporal punishment, especially for a girl of your age, but your actions today were childish, cruel, and unforgivable. Your mom and I feel you need a sharp shock. Because your actions caused extreme physical pain to Kara, it is only fair that your punishment cause you extreme physical pain."
I stared at the solemn group in disbelief. Surely I was misunderstanding. Dad couldn't seriously be talking about... about spanking me, could he?
But he was. "I'm going to use that same crop you hit Kara with, Marla. I'm going to whip your bottom raw. Steve and Diane have agreed to this and are going to watch to make sure your punishment is sufficient."
Oh God. Now my knees felt weak. Suddenly I was more concerned about my own skin instead of Kara's. "Oh Daddy, noooo!" I moaned, but I could see from their faces that the decision was out of my hands.
"Give me your crop." Dad's voice was low and as solid as brick furniture. I panicked.
"Now? Here? You can't!" I began to really cry now, terrified. This wasn't some distant, ominous event but harsh reality, bitterly tangible. Everything was happening way too fast.
In a daze I was led into the corral at the back part of the stable. It was deserted. The wide doors were closed for privacy and the sound felt final, like a prison gate slamming shut. It was just my parents, Kara and her parents, and John, the riding manager. Everyone looked grim and glared at me coldly.
"You will take down your pants," my father said.
"What? No! You can't be serious! You can't really be thinking of doing this! Kara, I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry. You know I didn't mean it. I was angry, I reacted. I blamed you, and you didn't do anything! I'm so sorry. Tell them, please!"
Again Kara wouldn't look at me. I tried to look at her parents, at my parents, at John, but got no sympathy from anyone. I looked at Kara again and saw that bloody welt glowing like a scar and there was a knife inside my belly trying to cut its way out. Something changed inside me at that moment. Perhaps that's when I first truly realized what I'd done. I know it occurred to me that the mark on her face would take a long time to heal. She'd have to wear it for weeks, maybe. Hopefully there wouldn't be any permanent damage. She was so pretty it would be awful to think I'd scarred her for life.
Thinking of it as a scar changed my perspective. It brought home the seriousness of what I'd done. I could have blinded her. I'd caught the lower part of her ear but a couple inches higher and it would have struck her left eye. Just a fraction off. It was horrible. I began to cry again.
But I also realized two things at that point. Not only did I realize that I fully deserved punishment, but more significantly, I realized I _needed_ punishment. Instinctively I realized that the horrible feelings I had churning in my belly would go away once I was punished. I needed to accept my punishment so Kara could accept my forgiveness.
This was a huge step into adulthood, though I didn't know it at the time. Back then, I had never felt more childish. But I bravely stepped forward and began to unfasten my jodhpurs. I tried not to think about then men watching -- Kara's dad, John, my own father -- and concentrated instead on reminding myself why I deserved this punishment. I slid my pants down, standing there nervously in my white panties.
Then my dad shocked me again. "Those too," he said, and I didn't have to ask to know what he meant. I wanted desperately to argue, to protest, to beg and plead and come up with excuses, but all I saw in my head was that red scar across Kara's face and I had no excuses, no valid argument. I drew my panties down also, my face flushing furiously with embarrassment.
Then came the pain. I had no idea a crop hurt that much. It literally felt like a hot metal rod had been seared into my ass. The cut was full across both cheeks and dad didn't hold anything back. It hurt like blazes and I couldn't help but scream in agony.
I have no idea how much time passed until the second cut. It was probably a long while, but it felt like seconds. The pain was even worse, the lash a little lower this time, and I could feel the two weals throbbing independently of each other. After the third my whole ass seemed afire. It was all I could do not to reach back and grab my ass but somehow I resisted. I don't know if I thought that would get me in more trouble or if I just thought it'd be more humiliating to reveal that I couldn't take my proper punishment, but for whatever reason I was determined to take this whipping in as dignified manner as I could.
That doesn't mean I didn't scream. I yelled at every stroke, howling and writhing and struggling to stay in position.
Four cuts, five. Then six. I was in agony. The pain was flowing through my body like a river. I could sense different aspects of the pain from the different strokes. The first stroke was dimmer, the pain more of an aching throb, while the recent cuts were like liquid fire, a sharp burning.
Nine, ten, eleven. My buttocks were well-wealed now, the strokes overlapping, and the pain was unspeakable. I was out of tears and out of breath. I felt exhausted and could only pant and grip and hold on and pray it would end soon.
Twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Oh this was horrible. Would it never end? How much longer would it go on?
The fifteenth was a doozy, really low and deep into my bottom. I gritted my teeth and howled. I danced in place, realizing this made a show of my quivering ass, but I couldn't help it.
But it turned out, blissfully, that my punishment was over. I pulled up my panties over my swollen, welted bottom and suddenly there was Kara hugging me, crying, and I was crying and apologizing and hugging her back. I finally got my pants back on, though they were horribly tight and I couldn't wait to change.
That's when I saw the adults. Kara's parents looked somber but relieved, and my parents looked pleased. I later found out they were proud of me. John also seemed pleased, but in thinking about it years later, it was probably more because of my naked butt than anything I'd accomplished.
I knew just from the atmosphere of the room, which had gone from dreadfully grim to relaxed, that I'd been forgiven, and I felt a zillion times better. I was still really sore, but I was oddly pleased. I felt I'd paid a debt and I was infinitely relieved that Kara was okay and had forgiven me. She later told me she hadn't been in favor of my whipping, but her parents had insisted.
"It's okay," I told her. "I fully deserved it."
In addition to the cropping I was given a three month riding bane. Kara had protested but my parents were adamant. Initially, with my ass so sore, it didn't bother me that much, but later I missed it terribly. It did sort of take the polish of a professional riding career for me, however. After what I'd endured, such a thing seemed more something of fantasy, not reality. I got involved in other things and eventually forgot about riding.
Kara's face healed just fine. Within a week the welt was merely a red mark. You could still see it for another week after that, but then it was pretty much gone. My bottom went through a similar process, though my marks lasted longer than Kara's.
In the end, it was a deserved punishment that worked well. I never lost my temper again after that, though a few times I was tempted. I grew up a lot that day. Kara and I remained friends, though she moved away a few years ago and we don't keep in as much contact as we'd like.

The End

Came across this story in flogmasterstories, so all rights reserved. couldn't help place myself in Marla's shoes. enjoy!!

Copyright 1995-2009 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

 

Friday, 25 January 2013

Whipping at a Mafia Meeting


Teresa was a thirty three year old woman who had grown up in the suburbs of koitales town. She came from a family of noble immigrants. Known as Tess by her friends, she was a an outgoing lady. she graduated with a science degree from a local university and started a small knitting business, a passion she had cultivated since childhood.
She was now a mature grown up who had been incarcerated into the local mafia by one of her old friends, Jane. Silvia was a no-nonsense woman who headed the mafia group at the local village. She was a firm believer of corporal punishment and liked to dress in tight jeans that exposed her excessively large tear drop ass. She was plump with a dark complexion. She always had a mid sized thin strap that had been placed in the room the meeting took place. When a woman had been found to have  broken the law, she would be sentenced to more likely some strapping. She would be made to strip and lashes later awarded to her back or behind. This was usually a painful punishment that in most cases left the recipients sobbing.

I had always wanted to witness such a beating although in the back of my mind I had some fear. The lashes were usually vicious and left the errant ladies in tears. From a long time the whipping was done on the upper back but later onwards madam Silvia decided as a rule all lashes to be directed to the buttocks. No woman would break the mafia laws after undergoing such an ordeal.

Tess, with her newly acquainted friends were extra careful on the mafia movement dealings and ensured they never did something that would lead them to be on the wrong side of the law. Anne and Slovia were both of Russian origin. they were both 29 and 31 years old consecutively. Slovia was a big lady with  somewhat large breasts. She was more light in complexion and tall as well. Her daily gym and exercises made her have a firm body and firm ass too. she preferred wearing dresses and a simple blouse which down played her age. Anne was slim and tall with small pert buttocks and underdeveloped breasts.

I was by then 28 years of age when i attended those meetings. The meeting ended in tears as one woman at that time ended being beaten with the whip by Sylvia. She had been found of spreading malicious rumors pertaining to the group movements. Sylvia, who looked agitated told the group that Teressa’s was to be awarded a couple strokes. This turned me on and my thoughts were more confused. How was a grown woman to be beaten. Teresa was a hugely built lady. At that time she had worn tight trousers and a tight blouse. With those tight trousers, every woman in the room could see the outline of her firm big bottom.Her bottom looked inviting to the cane and the excess fat seemed just perfect to absorb the whip impact.
I was one of the few ladies who had wanted to spank her bottom for almost spoiling my relationship with my husband through spreading rumors. 

Sylvia told her to stand up and explain to the charges and the only thing she could do was shake her head remorsefully. Agnes a tall slender women stood up and rushed to get the hand cuffs. She came back abruptly and ordered Teresa to bring her hands forward and proceeded to hand cuff her. There was sudden swish and a cracking sound of the cane. The cane had been mercilessly applied across her large defenseless bottom. She clenched her ass cheeks and jumped forward with a scream.. “Sorry madam , take it easy” Teresa mumbled the words! The second stroke bit into her clothed rump with another cracking sound! Whaack! I felt scared at the intensity of those two strokes. Her ass contracted involuntarily but she hardly moved.

She had now vowed to take the whipping silently with just a grin in her face and eyes that were like begging for mercy. In my mind Ladies weren’t supposed to be beaten like that, i thought to my self. This was a shock to me. It all happened before my eyes. The room was silent and the over 30 women assembled in that large room were engrossed with what was happening. 


Tears started trickling down her face. Sylvia proceeded to stand in front of the woman who almost was in the verge of breaking down. Her back was facing the assembled women attending the meeting. She had her legs placed together but her large enough thighs ensured there was the v shape just where her buttocks met her thighs. She looked at Sylvia closely not knowing her next words or action. She could feel the throbbing pain on her behind but vowed that she would take the whipping bravely. “I will make sure i leave enough marks on your behind! You need a shocking experience to make sure such behavior is not repeated” Sylvia said harshly. “I am sorry” mumbled Teresia. “Take her to the punishment position” From the spectators view, 2 stripes on her tightly clad bottom could be seen. She quickly knelt to ask for forgiveness but it was to no avail. Agnes quickly went in front of Teresia and slapped her!, "Move on bitch", she shouted. She then proceeded to make her stand just at the end of the short table and quickly pulled her across a short table leaving her lying on her stomach. All that the crowd could see now were her huge thighs as she lay flat on the table.  Her hands were stretched, holding the other side of the long table.
Sylvia proceeded to the side of the table while holding her flexible switch. It was with no doubt that the target would be the buttocks.
Whack! the switch bit into her bottom with a great velocity making the fear stricken woman to lift her head and grit her teeth.
Whiish Whack! The second stroke hit slightly below the previous strokes, leaving another mark on the trousers.
Another five strokes landed on her buttocks before the harsh punishment was over.
She was quickly assisted from the table by Agnes and to the amazement of the crowd she had blood shot eyes with tears running down.

When the handcuffs were finally opened, she quickly ran her hands to soothe her bottom and try massage the pain away. Two ladies stood from the crowd to come and assist her walk back to her chair. The ordeal was shocking. This had set an example of how disobedient mafia women would be whipped.

In high school, girls would be whipped for serious crimes but that was done privately. For this case i had just witnessed a case of corporal punishment and some how I had been left in shock. I was sorry for Teressa but also I felt scared because i would also be subject to such caning in case I ever broke the laws. My buttocks are a bit soft for such punishment i thought.

Women Slaves Punishment

I Came across this story, and I loved it. Its from, 'The Memoirs of Dolly Morton (1899)'. I Just captured some interesting section of it.


The overseer, with a notebook in his hand and attended by four field
hands, stood in front of the shed, near a large pair of scales. The women
came up, one by one, each handing her basket to be weighed by the
men. If the weight was correct, the overseer ticked off the woman's
name in his book and she went off to her cabin, free to do what she
liked till next morning. But if a woman's basket proved to be of short
weight, the overseer put a mark against her name and told her to
remain.
The weighing was done quickly. Thus, in a short time, all of the women
had gone except six poor things whose baskets had been found to be
light. They knew what they were going to get, and they stood in a row,
118

all of them looking doleful, while three of them also were whimpering.
If I had possessed any authority on the plantation, I would have saved
the women from the lash. But I had no authority. If I had showed myself
to the overseer at that moment and asked him to let the culprits off
without the regulated punishment, he would have laughed at me.
The overseer did not make a single remark to the delinquents, nor did
they attempt to excuse themselves-they knew that no excuse would
have saved them. Turning to the woman whose name was first on the
list, the overseer said sharply: "Lie down."
The woman, without hesitation, extended herself upon the ground.
Then two of the men knelt in front of her and held her arms stretched
out at full length while the other two men, also kneeling, held her legs
by the ankles.
She was a big, very stout, coal-black woman, forty years of age. She
was married and had two strapping daughters, both of whom were
pickers in the same gang. The two girls, who were both over twenty
years of age and quite black, had brought in their proper weight and
had walked away a little distance from the shed. But when they saw
that their mother had been kept back, they stopped, and, standing side
by side, looked on in silence while she was being whipped. I dare say it
was not the first time they had seen such a sight. Members of families,
of both sexes, often were whipped in each other's presence on Southern
plantations.
The overseer turned up the woman's scanty garments, which consisted
only of a skirt, a stiff petticoat and a coarse chemise. Then he
scrutinized her great, bare posteriors. Her bottom was enormous and so
fat that it was dimpled all over. Her thighs were colossal and her legs
were immense. Her black skin, however, was quite smooth and it shone
like polished ebony.
The overseer took out of his pocket a strap about two and a half feet
long, three inches broad, an eighth of an inch thick. Then, standing over
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the prostrated woman, he gave her twelve sharp strokes. The leather
made a loud crack, like the report of a pistol, each time it fell on the
culprit's great bottom.
Tears rolled down the woman's cheeks and her fat buttocks quivered,
but otherwise she did not move a muscle nor utter the least sound.
When the whipping was over, she got up and went to her daughters,
who put their arms round her. Then the three walked away. I had
noticed that the broad stripes made by the strap showed a livid colour
on her black skin.
Next on the list was a quadroon-a slim, rather pretty girl not more than
eighteen years old. She was in a great fright. Tears were running down
her cheeks and she was too nervous to place herself in the proper
position when ordered.
"Put her down," said the overseer. She promptly was seized by the men,
and, in a moment, was lying flat on the ground with her petticoats up to
her shoulders.
Her bottom was small, with pear-shaped cheeks. At the upper part of
her thighs was a small space through which peeped the crisp black
hair shading the "spot." She received her dozen strokes, and, though
the overseer did not whip her as hard as he had whipped the black
woman, the girl twisted her loins and squealed loudly from the first
stroke to the last.
When all was over, her olive-skinned little bottom had become a
dusky-red colour. She rose to her feet, dancing about for a moment in
pain. Then she walked stiffly away, wailing loudly, with both hands
pressed to her bottom.
The third culprit was a sturdy mulatto woman, thirty-five years of age.
She submissively lay down when ordered, and the overseer soon
stripped her. She had a big, round, plump bottom. The skin was smooth
and of a yellowish tint, not at all pretty. The strap cracked, striping her
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bottom with twelve red bands and making her wince, wriggle and cry
aloud. But she never once screamed.
The other delinquents-two black women aged respectively twentyseven
and thirty years and a mulatto girl aged twenty years-were
then disposed of by the overseer in the same way. The black women
bore their punishment with a certain amount of fortitude, but the
mulatto girl writhed and squealed, making almost as much outcry as
the quadroon.
I will here state that, from what I saw of whipping during my residence
in the South, I came to the conclusion that the light-coloured slavewomen
had finer skins than the darker-coloured women.
Consequently the former felt more pain while being whipped than the
latter. Moreover, the whipping of such females by men, besides being
cruel and most indecent, was also, in my opinion, extremely unfair as a
punishment. For instance, if an octoroon woman and a full-blooded
black woman, both of the same age and physique, were to undergo
exactly the same punishment, the octoroon would suffer far more than
the black.
When the overseer had finished whipping the last culprit and she had
gone whimpering away, he told his assistants to go to their quarters.
Then, rolling up the strap, he put it in his pocket and strolled leisurely
away in the direction of the overseers' house. (The four men lived
together, and I have no doubt they had carnal intercourse with all the
best looking field-girls.) The man had been perfectly unmoved
throughout the whole affair, not appearing to be the least excited at
seeing the naked bottoms of the women writhing and twisting with
seemingly lascivious movements under his strokes, and he had
whipped the poor creatures with as little compunction as if they had
been dogs. However, as it was his almost daily work, he was quite
accustomed to it, and I don't suppose that the cruelty of the enterprise
ever struck him.

It got me thinking, those women have to really work hard or else they receive some cruel spanking..
That day they wouldn't sit well or if they had to offer sex to their husbands it would mean missionary style only!! they should introduce such punishment in female prisons, there are pretty of large lazy asses there.
I always say if am the one on the wrong, let me be whipped.

Thursday, 24 January 2013

They Get Caned too

(Confessions) 

1992 , Stine Magazine

A 32 year old woman returned from an undisclosed African country. she was deported and on arrival during a medical checkup the doctors discovered that she had whip marks on her bottom just after she dropped her jeans. she was reluctant to show us the bruises at first, due to humiliation associated with it.

"she seems to have been beaten with something thin, a leather strap that is not more than 2cm in width" said the doctor. the middle aged woman doctor also said the bruises would be expected to heal in 2 weeks. "Now this is the 5th case we have reported this month, the government ought to look at this issue". said the doctor. the deported woman was still in shock and could hardly talk.

She stood at 5, 7, and was of average build. on arrival she had worn jeans and t shirt. "once she is able to narrate about the ordeal,we will give further information" the name of the woman was not revealed at the interview. Samantha, who had such an ordeal said the whipping was done inside a women's prison, inside some office set up area. The policewomen usually take the law in their hands beat the sense in foreigners.

"The lashes are all focused on your behind" confirmed Samantha. "I would hear the whip whistle as it came down and then a sharp bust of pain across my buttocks. I tried to take the beating bravely but by the forth stroke, I couldn't stand it.I broke down. tears were streaming down my face. The pain was horrible!!" said the Samantha.

Despite pleadings, the short,plump young dark police woman went on to administer the unofficial punishment till all 7 strokes had been administered. "You are made to lay across some leather bench, handcuffed. Two policewomen were present." said the 27 year old. The jeans were pulled down to her thighs. "They leave you with just briefs which offer no protection at all"! said the already tear faced Samantha. the pain is awful and if you don't breakdown by the first stroke, you are a hero but guaranteed by the mid punishment you would be screaming and pleading them to stop the punishment.

 A week earlier, a 38 year old woman by the name Marion had  confirmed of such an ordeal but hardly gave any information. she looked distressed, angry and the red eyes could tell she had been crying.
She firmly said that she would never visit the country again in the short interview on arrival at the airport. she had been caught trying to smuggle some items made from ivory.

And it is everyone's guess what happen behind those prison rooms. she casually walked away and only left us with imagination of a bruised  bottom covered by her tight trousers. she had worn a track suite with a  hood

>>Cynthia

She definitely had been spanked!! why don't people learn that smuggling of such items is illegal. but then again i wouldn't take my pretty ass in such a f***** country.

>>Maria
 that's really sad and unfortunate that some countries still apply this barbaric punishment.

>>Annie
Gosh, 2 weeks to heal. her backside must have been hit really bad!!
 

>>Angie
Marion looks as if she could hardly could feel the lashes. her ass is pretty big. anyway sorry ladies. rules are rules. in fact they should introduce such rules in this country.some asses ought to be whipped!! 

A Turn Of Events

A middle aged woman narrated her ordeal that happened a year ago through an interview in some hotel in the city center.
I was then a frequent visitor at bilax club and most of the time preferred to go there and relax after work. On that day, everything seemed to go not as planned. From the time i arrived in the office, before I sat down, my boss called me. she engaged me in a conversation which she accused me of not taking my work seriously and I need to improve very quick. The economy was bad and business wasn't all that good. selling our product was just hard and i had been tasked to head the sales team. At the end of the day, i went and took a corner place at bilax as i awaited Sheila, who i would whine at her regarding all the problems i had.

A beautiful well built up woman came and sat next to me with a simple hi! "Hi" , i  replied. she had a Russian accent. the waitresses in the pub new i was a lesbian and so the woman could easily have gotten that information. she told me of how beautiful i was and that she would like us to spend the evening with me. some how we got talking for almost 30 minutes as i waited for sheila to come.

 I loved her accent and she somewhat was interesting. we seemed to click on so many angles. she also looked great. I had started forgetting about my awful day as I ordered my second drink. "u love anal?" she inquired. "Why do you ask?" I was surprised at such a direct question.
"because u have a gorgeous ass" i looked at her and couldn't believe she had just said that blank point. I replied and told her I have never tried.
.
"There comes my friend, Sheila", I told her. She stood up and said we see each other in a moment after our meeting. "Ok", she replied. I had mixed reactions and i kept thinking this is my opportunity to have quite a night, but anal? I will not let her touch there..

Sheila sat down and we had a lot to catch up. After 2 hours we had talked a whole load of stuff. I had told her all about my problems and how things seemed not to work out.
We used to occasionally meet and find out what every one was up to. In a moment something crossed my mind and I remembered she had once told me  that when she was in college, just after being admitted, a fourth year college girl had sex with her. And it was anal.
So i inquired about the story to be able to dig for more information. "How did it feel on your first ordeal?", I asked. Now she was a grown up 30 year old woman with 2 kids. "So do you still have butt sex",  I asked ..

"First of all, in college if you remember well, it was a punishment from the 4th year bitch", said sheila. I got into a fight when we were at the laundry room and I slapped some bitch", Sheila responded with a higher tone.

"I sooner came to realize the bitch had a very close friend in 4th year and by that evening they had come to undertake the revenge in my room they didn't knock and rudely opened the door. I had just changed into my night gown. " said Sheila.
"So you are the new kid in the block who thinks you can beat everyone?", The fourth year harshly asked!!

To cut the long story short, sheila was offered two choices. either she gets a whipping with a belt on her buttocks or  she is ass fucked. she thought silently and knew she had a very low threshold of pain and so she opted for anal. Escaping wasn't a choice.

she was told to strip naked as the Aminda, the 4 year student, wore the strappon that she had carried.  Amy, took out some Vaseline, applied it to her index finger then approached Sheila and forced her to turn around and proceeded to lift her night dress and part her unprotected large nates and thrust  her finger up her butt. Sheila involuntarily clenched her ass cheeks. It was her first time she had taken something up her ass hole. "I was really tensed up", narrated Sheila. I felt humiliated and couldnt do much. Aminda was there holding her belt and i knew any provocation would mean a severe whooping. After she finished greasing back there, the rest was history. they took time to fuck me. Secretly that had been my fantasy. though i was pretty much scared!!

 The first penetration was awful.  I got to relax  after a couple of minutes. Then some feeling of pleasure and total submission felt somewhat great.

"Currently I usually do it with my husband and i love it" confirmed sheila

I told her i would most likely have the first encounter today and she just smiled at my statement. "Go and enjoy hun, but then kindly ensure u keep your  job and try hard or else i will work your asshole if you lose that job" cockily said sheila  . 

I laughed and hugged her good bye. She stood and left.

 The Russian woman was at the counter and i had kept taking a glance at her every once in a while during our conversation with sheila.


To be continued....