When the incident happened, Sally had been loaded into the back of a cop car and taken to a police station where she had been charged, fingerprinted and photographed. She was then given the option of having a full trial which would have meant being booked into County Jail until she could see a judge.
When the incident happened, Sally had been loaded into the back of a cop car and taken to a police station where she had been charged, fingerprinted and photographed. She was then given the option of having a full trial which would have meant being booked into County Jail until she could see a judge. The alternative was one of the new “Administrative Punishments” which the state had introduced to deal with the backlog of cases. With all that alcohol just beginning to fade from her system, Sally just wanted to go home so she signed the papers and was escorted from the premises clutching an armful of documents listing her charges and recording her consent to an Admin Punishment.
Charges:
Driving Under the Influence
Reckless Driving Occasioning Injury
Driving without insurance
Driving While Suspended
Taking a Car without Consent
Administrative Penalty:
You are being released on your own Recognition which means that your case will be decided by a judge in your absence. You have waived your right to a trial. You will be notified of the verdict and any sentence and you will be given a date and time to present yourself at a Privatized Penal Centre where sentence will be carried out. If you fail to report to the Penal Centre on time a warrant will be issued for your arrest and you will face extra charges.
The next month was almost unbearable as Sally could not keep from thinking of the sword hanging over her head. What would they do to her? Should she have taken the Trial option?
You saw stories in the media about what happened in the private penal establishments which were outside of the state system and some people said that they were not over fussy about how they treated people. Having chosen that option Sally now had no right to change her mind and, if the penal center reported that she had failed to comply with any of their demands, she would automatically face jailtime.
The small brown envelope dropped into her mailbox on a Tuesday morning and she almost did not open it because she dreaded what it might say. She had been found guilty on all counts and she had been sentenced to 40 strokes of the cane which would be carried out over a 48-hour period. She was required to report for punishment at 9am in three days’ time. There followed a whole page of requirements and scary lists of the consequences of any failure to comply. Twenty-Four hours before her check in time, Sally had to go online and complete a very detailed medical questionnaire including details of when her next period was due.
Sally did not know how she got through that three days and she barely slept so she was terrified that she would be late for her 9am slot. She knew that a few minutes late would immediately trigger an arrest warrant and inevitable jail time.
In was a modern, glass fronted building and inside the glass doors the reception area was divided into two channels like Customs at an airport. Sally took the female channel which led to a counter with two staff. One staff member was booking in a teenager who had straggly, lank hair and many tattoos. The teen was being very aggressive and the clerk had a bored, expressionless monotone voice as she explained that the process would be carried out and that lack of co-operation would make things a whole lot worse for the young lady.
Sally approached the second clerk who sat behind her glass screen and took Sally’s details then indicated that Sally should go through a door and take a seat. There was a buzz and Sally pushed open the heavy steel door into a small, bare waiting room with a line of chairs which were fixed to the floor. A large, plate glass window enabled staff inside the facility to see anyone who was in the waiting area.
It was only a few minutes before two guards in brown uniform came into the room and ushered Sally through another steel door into quite a small cubicle where she was ordered to stand in the box which was painted on the floor. Her photograph was taken and there was a whine as she was scanned by a body scanner which would reveal anything concealed in her clothing or her body. She was then told to press her hands, thumbs and fingers in turn onto the glass panel on the wall to her front. A printer chattered as it printed out two white plastic strips which a guard snapped around each wrist. The bracelets bore a bar code and a long number which she was informed was a prison number which would be recorded permanently on the Department of Corrections database.
Another door buzzed open and she was taken into a larger cubicle where a nurse in a white coat sat at a desk and took her pulse and blood pressure. The nurse asked a few questions about her online questionnaire and one of her two guards said that they would get her showered and changed.
Sally was beginning to feel like a piece of meat and she protested that she was only here for her caning and was not being booked into jail.
“Your sentence is more strokes than most people could take in one session so you will be with us overnight, as it says in your paperwork, and take your second caning tomorrow.”
Now she was in a tiled shower room and the male guard stepped back out of sight while the female held the plastic curtain but made sure that her prisoner was never out of her sight.
“You need to take everything off including all jewelry and hair clips and hand it to me. Then you take a shower which has a cleaning agent in the water. The delouser is not harmful but you might want to shut your eyes.”
So, Sally undressed with every move being watched by her guard. As the guard took each item of clothing, she went through the pockets and felt along the seams. Sally was not even permitted to operate the shower for herself; her wardress pressed a button which was set into the wall and she watched to make certain that Sally massaged the oily water into every part of her skin and rubbed it carefully into her hair. It was the wardress who chose when to stop the shower and she handed Sally a white towel with which to dry herself.
Sally stepped out of the shower completely nude and watchful for the male guard. She was now in another small tiled area where she was handed an orange nightdress which reached down to just above her knees. Sally asked about underwear but was assured that she would not be needing any underwear for her short stay. She was given a pair of plastic beach shoes which flapped as she walked. Her clothing and her watch were on a small table and she was required to watch as her warder sealed it all into a brown paper bag like a grocery bag.
“Now we can put you in the waiting room and you will be collected when they are ready for you.”
As they left the dressing area, they picked up the male guard who had been waiting in the hallway. The waiting room was another bare room which had a stainless-steel toilet behind a low wall. A padded bench ran along one wall and Sally sat down. She was again surrounded by glass so could be observed at all times. She also noticed, on the ceiling, one of the camera domes which covered the entire facility. She tried to remember if she had seen a camera when she was showering; had someone been sitting in front of a screen somewhere taking in every detail of her naked body? Was there now a digital record which would stay on some computer for all time and be seen by anyone who cared to log in?
There was no clock in the waiting room so Sally had no way of judging time. After a while, the stroppy teenager from Reception was brought in to join her. The teen was dressed as Sally was and was much quieter than she had been previously. She sat at the opposite end of the bench from Sally and neither of them talked.
When they came for her, it was the same two guards as before and the male ordered her to offer her wrists in front to be handcuffed. This was suddenly even more terrifying and Sally asked why she needed handcuffs now when she had not needed them before.
“This is the point where some people become a bit unwilling so we cuff everyone to keep you safe and to keep us safe.”
Her hair hung limp and uncontrolled, her shoes made that loud flapping sound and she was worried about whether her gown was long enough to protect her modesty. On top of that, she knew that she was about to be caned and it was unlikely to be gentle. On the way they stopped at a toilet which Sally was strongly advised to use.
They came to a room with cream painted walls showing the shape of the brickwork through the paint. In the center of the room was an ugly whipping block which looked like something out of the Middle Ages. The sliding door was slammed shut behind them. A nurse in a blue uniform stood up from where she had been sitting on a plastic chair. The nurse asked Sally if she was prepared for her sentence to be carried out and if she understood everything about the procedure.
All sorts of answers to these questions ran through Sally’s mind but she just managed to answer Yes and her handcuffs were removed.
“You need to take off your gown and place yourself over the block so that you can be secured. The nurse will supervise the entire procedure from a medical standpoint and each stroke will be counted aloud by myself. As you know, you are to receive forty strokes which will be given as twenty now and a further twenty tomorrow morning before your release. Any failure to comply will result in your being transferred to a Correctional Facility where you will begin to serve a period of incarceration instead of your caning.”
It was all so routine and clinical which somehow only ratchetted up the horror. Sally asked why she could not simply lift her gown to bare the target area.
“Are you refusing to comply?”
Sally knew that the question was very loaded with consequences and, miserably aware of the male guard, she stripped off her one vestige of covering. There was no elegant way of lifting herself onto the block even though she did all she could to keep her legs firmly together. Her shoes fell off and she had to reach down towards the floor on the opposite side of the block for the male guard to strap her wrists and upper arms to the block. She felt a broad leather strap being pressed down across her back and pulled as tight as could be then her ankles and thighs were strapped down so that she was pretty much immobile. She was very aware of the cool air and the eyes of anyone who cared to look, on the soft, puffy lips between her buttocks.
The man picked up a heavy looking cane which had to be about one meter long and he went behind her. Sally had hoped that the female (and weaker?) guard may be doing the actual caning and she did not enjoy the thought of the man’s eyes being directly behind her rear where he could see her least glamorous aspect.
Suddenly her left buttock exploded in agony and she screamed loudly. It would have eased the pain if she had been able to wriggle or move to absorb the force but she was bound so tightly that she was an immovable object and all she could do was to tense every muscle she had against the leather restraints. Somewhere on a distant planet a female voice spoke in that dull monotone.
“One”
Her mind had not had time to process the pain from the first stroke when the second one landed on her right buttock. She was aware of saliva running down her chin as her hair straggled over her eyes and all she could see was the floor.
Stroke piled on stroke in a regular rhythm with a few seconds between each one. Very soon, her entire behind felt as if all the skin had been seared from its surface and her imagination conjured pictures of blood running down her skin and dripping onto the floor. It did not take long for her to be emitting deep sobs as tears streaked down her face and snot ran from her nostrils and down her chin. She was terrified that a stray stroke would catch all those sensitive nerve endings in her most private place which was now on open display to the man wielding the cane.
The count after each stroke did not really reach her brain, it was just the warning that the next stroke would come immediately. After ten strokes (not that Sally knew how many she had taken) there was a pause and the nurse walked around Sally examining her behind and kneeling down to look at her face.
The nurse must have been satisfied because, with no warning, the torment recommenced.
And then, just when it seemed to Sally that her screaming must tear out her throat, it was over. She lay there panting with every muscle painful from her involuntary struggles against her restraints. Sally was aware of her straps being released and then hands gripped her limbs and took her off the block. As soon as her feet touched the floor, her legs folded but the guards supported her to a hospital type gurney trolly and laid her down on her belly. The nurse wiped her face and spoke gently to her. A plastic beaker of water was held to her lips and some cool ointment was applied to her behind although even that made her wince.
The female guard stood in front of her and resumed speaking in that “official” voice.
“We will get you into your cell and get you some food. Dinner tonight will be brought to you and someone will be along to check on you.”
Her orange gown was arranged over her body like a sheet and the gurney was wheeled out into the corridor on the way to a row of metal doors one of which was buzzed open. The trolley stayed in the passageway and she was assisted to dismount and stagger the short distance to the bed ledge in her cell where she lay face down. The nurse took her temperature by placing a thermometer in her mouth and she also took her blood pressure while saying that Sally was young and healthy so there should be no problem. She promised to look in later.
Sally lay on her belly feeling very teary and alone and with her hands very gently exploring her bum cheeks and feeling the intersecting raised wheals. A female guard brought her a plastic tray bearing a beaker of fruit juice and a sandwich on a plastic plate. A second guard stood in the doorway and then she was alone again. She was still nibbling her cheese sandwich when the nurse returned with a female guard. The nurse had her stand up which she did a bit unsteadily and her temperature and blood pressure was again checked and the nurse placed a stethoscope against her and listened to her breathing and heartbeat.
Sally slept for some of the long afternoon. At some point a plastic tray was brough in containing more juice, rice and some sort of meat stew all set out in individual compartments in the tray and eaten with a plastic implement which was part fork and part spoon. No-one came for the empty tray; it just stayed on the floor.
Having no idea of the time was very disorientating and it made her feel all the more powerless. They controlled her time as well as where she could go and when she could eat and what was done to her and even when she was naked and who could see her body. It made Sally reflect on what it would be like to live like this for years on end. Presumably girls in jail had to request essentials like soap, toilet paper and sanitary items and you could not even feel good about yourself with your hair a mess and no way to clip it up.
These depressing thoughts led on to the ever-closer reality that tomorrow morning she would suffer a repeat of what she had endured today. Her terrible experience today had been pretty much an unknown quantity but now she knew precisely what was going to be done to her already damaged body. Would the fresh assault cause the wheals on her flesh to burst open? The new strokes would definitely be laid over the old ones as there was no part of her bum cheeks which was unmarked.
For some reason, was it just boredom, she found that her hand had found its way between her legs and was working up from gentle stroking to something more vigorous. She looked up and saw the glass dome on the ceiling which brought waves of shame – like being discovered by your mum in your bedroom. But then she thought, “What the hell, let them have their fun”. And she angled her body very carefully as it was still sore, so that her pussy was facing the camera and she pulled her gown right up so that they did not miss anything. She wondered whether it was a male or a female on duty at the screens or perhaps one guard would call the others so that they could all enjoy the show?
These thoughts gave fresh impetus to her actions and her back arched as groans and then wails erupted from her throat.
“You didn’t break me, you bastards.”
Her legs were spontaneously waving about as they would have waved on the whipping block without all those straps. She was sweating again and she could smell the combined scent or her sweat and that other smell of hot, wet girl. And then she fell back and slept.
When she awoke, she found that she had slept with one leg hanging over the side of the bed ledge and her gown up around her waist. She wondered if there had been a shift change in the viewing room and whether a whole new group of guards had come on shift and gathered around the screen. While she was thinking these things, and adjusting her position, the light dimmed. It seemed that someone upstairs had decided that it was now nighttime but the light would remain on albeit at a lower level. They still needed to be able to watch her. Of course, in the absence of luxuries like windows, they could make it night whenever they chose and, by judicious use of the lights, they could easily make one day seem like two or give her a day lasting 48 hours.
Breakfast next morning was juice, croissant and jam while locked in her cell. Sally judged it was about an hour later that they came for her, this time it was a different pair but still one male and one female. As Sally was handcuffed for the walk to the punishment room, she paid particular attention to the upper arms of the male guard; beneath that shirt did he have powerful biceps for thrashing helpless naked girl?
The walk along the corridor was difficult; her body did not want to go. Once again, the nurse was there and she checked blood pressure and temperature as well as asking perfunctory questions before Sally was made to shed her gown to be strapped over the block.
As she was being strapped down, she found that she was fantasizing about her Daddy punishing her for what she had been doing last night and, to her surprise and consternation, she was becoming aroused. Oh, PLEASE don’t let the guard behind her see little droplets of juice seeping out from her pussy lips.
The first crashing stroke pretty much removed any erotic thoughts. Her brain only had space for pain. She was certain that the pain was worse this time probably because she was being caned on already sensitive flesh. The routine was a repeat of yesterday but it still seemed to last for many hours. Many times, she was certain that she could not endure one more stroke but then the next one landed causing all her pain receptors to erupt all over again.
Then came that blissful realization that it was over and she was not being hurt anymore. As the previous day, she was helped off the block and onto her belly on the gurney for the nurse to check her over and administer cold ointment. While she was still face down, they managed to get her orange gown onto her properly instead of just using it as a blanket. This time she was wheeled not to a cell but to a holding area which had a sliding door large enough to take the trolley. The room had a large glass window so that anyone in the corridor could observe the interior. Again, a low wall half shielded the toilet.
She was told that she would be left to recover and then the nurse would return and, all being well, she would be discharged. So, she lay on the trolley, once more alone but feeling very self-conscious about that large window and the many people passing to and fro in the corridor.
In due time the nurse did come back with a female guard. The nurse took the usual readings and asked how Sally was feeling. Sally replied that she was feeling very sore and that all her muscles ached from her struggles against the straps on the block. The nurse signed a form on the guard’s clip board and then the guard asked Sally to accompany her to “Discharge”.
This was a reverse of the intake process. She was given her clothes and she changed out of her orange gown then she signed for the contents of her possessions bag which were returned to her. They did not go to the main entrance but down a short corridor to a steel door which the guard buzzed open to reveal the car park and then Sally was a free citizen in the open air trying to remember the way to the bus stop.
The funny thing was that over the following few days, Sally could not help thinking about canes. She ran through the names of her closest friends, both male and female, and wondered if just perhaps any of them might care to…..