Day 12, Friday, September 25
Iīm back in my cell again, feeling exhausted but, well, triumphant may cover it. I was brought to the shower room this morning for the usual salt water enema I get previous to being whipped, and then marched to the rack. I was uncannily calm until I entered the punishment room and saw that the chief was present along with seven or eight other persons, Iīm not sure, the room sure was crowded. I immediately got scared seeing him there and knew something out of the ordinary was about to happen (two weeks ago, I wouldnīt have considered being whipped on my bare ass as something ordinary. Iīm not sure I like the progress of things). Well, I was taken to the rack and knelt in front of it as Iīm supposed to do, keeping my head down, waiting. My heart was pounding heavily and I felt all shaky.
Then the chief spoke to me. He said I hade made good progress in behaviour and thinking, and that it was only fair I got some credit for that. Today I was to receive 31 lashes, but I also had earned 120 points. Since each lash is worth 5 points, he offered me to trade in the points and have my punishment reduced to 7 lashes. I thanked him for the generous offer, which I accepted. I didnīt think even for a moment that it would stop there, and I was right.
The chief went on by telling me that during these two weeks, some things had been overlooked. I had used prophanities in my papers without getting punished. After my second whipping I broke several rules, like looking at the warders and speaking unallowed. I had failed to write my compulsory four pages a couple of times. And I had broken the no touching rule. I was almost relieved he finally got to that. For these misconducts I was to receive 36 lashes plus the 7. He left it to me to decide whether I wanted it all today, or half of it now and the rest on Wednesday.
I didnīt have to think about it. I answered that Iīd rather get through with it today, since I wanted to get rid of past sins and make a restart. I was shivering as I spoke, everybody in the room must have noticed, my teeth clattered, too. Then I was told I was to be given 21 strokes with the paddle and the rest with the whip. He ordered me to stand up. My hands were freed and my pants, woolies and rubbers taken off. Much to my embarrassement I farted when the plug was pulled out of me. By the corner of my eye I noticed there were three females present. I recognized the nurse, sheīs always present and since she is short and plump sheīs easily identified, but the other two didnīt seem to belong to the staff. There was this guy taking pictures, too. I just hoped he wouldnīt release them on the Internet.
Then I had my shirt and sandals removed, but not my socks and tee, and that made me feel even more naked. On my previous whippings, except for the first one which was kind of a demonstration, Iīve been totally stripped. I was put on the rack and strapped to it, and I heard them discussing whether I should be fitted with a butt plug or not. It was finally decided that I should. First, the nurse checked my pulse, blood pressure and temperature, and declared that the readings were OK, then I felt the plug being inserted. Iīll never get used to it, my hands clenched automatically and I had to make myself relax.
"Are you ready to receive your punishment?" I was asked and answered;
"Yes, sir, I am."
Then I was told to start counting.
"One, sir."
The paddle hit me with a loud smack, thrusting the butt plug up my bowels.
"Thank you, sir. Two, sir."
I found the paddle strokes easier to endure than the whiplashes, but still it hurt very much. At number eleven, I had tears in my eyes and a swollen nose, but I wasnīt about to capitulate. I told myself that if I had to do anything at all, Iīd better yell out, but not cry.
"Thank you, sir." I struggled to keep my voice clear and steady. "Twelve, sir."
And the paddle came home again with a painful smack.
I had a break after the fourteenth stroke. I used the time to humour myself I had done well this far, not crying, not whining, only exhaled a couple of times. I also had managed not to writhe with pain. I knew that it would be even harder after the break and prepared myself for it.
"Are you ready to continue your punishment?"
"I am, sir. Fifteen, please, sir." Adding the please made me feel more in control.
The paddle struck my butt with greater force than before. It was bad but not excruciating. I could take it. I could even if I was snivelling. It didnīt mean anything. What my body tried to trick me into, my mind would resist.
"Thank you, sir. Sixteen, sir."
I forced myself to think one stroke ahead at a time and forget all about how many I had to go. It was easier than I had imagined.
Finally, Iīve had the full 21 paddle strokes, and I still felt in control. The worst was yet to come. I braced myself. I was shivering all over but feeling calm inside. Body vs soul. There was a short break as the punishment tools were being shifted, and I heard the by now familiar hissing sound when the executioner tried out the whip. I never know who does the whipping. They all strike equally hard, and all but one are righthanded. After ten lashes or strokes the warder is relieved by another. To prevent them from getting tennis elbows, I guess. Noone relieves me, though.
I suddenly felt like giggling. It was very weird, but I blamed it on the tension. I had to bite my lip to concentrate.
"Are you ready to continue your punishment?"
"I am, sir. Twenty-two, please, sir."
The lash cut my butt diagonally with a sharp thwack, and I gasped. I reminded myself that I was allowed some time before I had to speak, and I was determined to use that time to keep control over my treacherous body. I took a deep, calming breath and let the pain fade away.
"Thank you, sir. Twenty-three, sir."
The next lash was laid across the first and tightened every muscle in my body. I forced myself to relax, one bit at a time. I knew by now that the tenser I got, the worse the pain became. I drew air down my windpipe and filled my lungs. Concentrate on the present.
"Thank you, sir. Twenty-four, sir."
Ssshhhh thwack!
Breathe, relax, concentrate, let the pain sift through your body.
"Thank you, sir. Twenty-five, sir."
I focused on the butt plug. I could feel it all the time, moving slightly back and forth with my heartbeats.
Sssshhhh thwack!
I let out a whimper. My ass was on fire and pain invaded me. I fought hard to get hold of myself again, to relax, ride it out.
Unexpectedly, a wave of self pity and shame welled over me. This was what had become of me. Nineteen years old, being whipped bareassed in front of all these people, with a big plug up my arse so I wouldnīt ruin the show by farting or emptying my bowels. All these people to witness my shame, pictures being taken of my bleeding behind, my shaved privates exposed to strangers (especially the women), every one of them ignoring my sufferings. They were convinced I deserved everything I had coming to me, though they didnīt know anything about me. I couldnīt take it anymore. My eyes filled with tears. I just wanted to let go of everything, to cry my heart out, tell them all to go f*** themselves.
I bit down hard inside my cheek, pressing myself back to the present, to the punishment room, to this Friday morning. I focused on the pain in my arse instead of the pain in my heart.
This time I had been too slow replying. A warder lifted my head by the hair and scrutinized my face.
"Thank you, sir", I said hoarsely. Then I realized that I had lost track of the lashes. Was the next one number twenty-rhree or twenty-seven? I was afraid of asking and equally afraid of calling out the wrong number, and for a moment I nearly flipped again, succumbing to confusion.
"Sir, permission to speak, sir", I blurted out desperately.
"Permission granted", a voice answered.
"Sir, I canīt remember which number comes next."
There was a short silence.
"The last one was number twenty-five", the voice said.
I closed my eyes.
"Thank you, sir. Twenty-six, sir."
Ssssshhhhh-thwack!
I exhaled sharply with the pain, suddenly feeling very tired. The pain was like fire and steel. I had to get on more quickly with this, or Iīd never last to the end of it. Too fast I got out through clattering teeth:
"Thank you, sir, twenty-seven, sir."
I winced at the hissing sound, and as the whip crashed on my tortured bottom I had to cry out loud.
"OH GOD!"
I was on the edge now. Either I fell down on this side and went through the rest of my punishment screaming and begging, or I crawled myself over on the other side and rode it out, goddammit, just focus, just let the pain rise and fall. I felt the taste of blood in my mouth as I steadied myself.
"Thank you, sir. Twenty-eight, sir."
Ssssshhhh-thwack!
"Letīs take a short break," someone said, and I was left alone on the rack, soaking in pain, my mouth dry as desert sand. I closed my eyes harder and focused- FOCUSED! on how the pain rose to a climax and how it gradually faded and stabilized itself on a bearable level. I felt the power rising in me. The power of me. I had done well this far, I could do it all the way.
Out of nowhere came the image of a deep, round, blue pool to me. I let myself dive headfirst into it. The water was clear and warm and soothed my body and soul. As I sank deeper and deeper, the pain seemed very distant.
"Are you ready to continue your punishment?" The voice called me back to the surface, back to reality.
Just focus. Youīll make it.
"Iīm ready, sir. Twenty-nine, please, sir."
Fresh, intense pain as a knifeslash across my thighs. I clenched my teeth to hold back the cry that rose inside me, then exhaled, relaxed my muscles, dived into the pain and dissolved it.
"Thank you, sir. Thirty, sir."
Sssshhhh-thwack! I met the pain where it started and followed it all the way. I was beginning to feel nauseous and weak, and I could hear my blood sizzling in my ears. It will pass, I told myself.
"Thank you, sir. Thirty-one, sir."
Sssshhhh-thwack! The lash seemed to cut through skin and flesh and being stopped only by bone. I tugged at the straps around my wrists and felt my body twisting in pain. Puke rose to my mouth. I swallowed it back and tried to breathe calmly, but the odour remained. Again, water filled my eyes and I shivered uncontrollably, worse than before. When I opened my mouth, I couldnīt speak. My heart was beating wildly.
A hand grabbed hold of the hair of my neck, but before my head was lifted to expose my face, I managed to spit it out:
"THANK you, sir! Thirty-three, sir."
Deep blue water.
Sssshhhh-thwack!
"Oh God! Please!"
Focus, you dickhead, FOCUS! Donīt let them win this battle.
"Thank you, sir."
I had to be silent a couple of seconds, before calling out number thirty-four, sir.
Sssshhhhh-thwack! Something rose in my throat. I puked violently. I hadnīt had any breakfast, but somehow my stomach succeeded in producing a stream of sour liquid. I heard the door open and close. Apparently someone had had enough of me by now. My ass must be an open wound. My body didnīt want to cooperate anymore, it wanted out of here, it wrestled and fought with the straps restraining it to the rack, making it a prostrate target for the merciless whip. Focus, goddammit!
"Thank you, sir." The foul smell of puke. "Thirty-five, sir."
Ssssshhhh-thwack! And suddenly I felt calm and determined. My body tensed and then relaxed, I rode on the wave of pain all the way to the deep pool. I allowed myself to think that only seven lashes remained now, three plus two plus two, I was nearly there now and I would make it.
"Thank you, sir. Thirty-six, sir."
Sssshhhh-thwack! Jesus, that hurt!
"Thank you, sir Thirty-seven, sir."
A brief pause. I held my breath, waiting. Sssshhhh-thwack!
"Oh _s_h_i_t_!"
I writhed and struggled to get loose. I heard me talking to myself inside my head: I canīt bear this, really, I canīt. I need a piss. Not now, please. Not now. Iīm an inch away from success.
"Sorry, sir. Thank you, sir. Thirty-eight, sir."
Sssshhhh-thwack! I whimpered helplessly when the whip crashed upon me. The lash seemed to rip off a huge chunk of my butt. The fierce pain welled over me. I felt something oozing down my leg. It wasnīt urine, it had to be blood. Still, I was calm. My body was in pain, I wasnīt. My body was whimpering, not me. Letīs get it over with.
"THANK YOU, sir! Thirty-nine, sir."
Sssshhhh-thwack! White silence inside me. I was numbing myself to pain.
"Thank you, sir. Forty, sir!"
Sssshhhhh-thwack! Oh God! Help me, please! Focus. Focus. Focus. Only two to go. Only one plus one. Follow the pain.
"Thank you, sir." My voice was vibrating. "Forty-one, sir."
A hand on my shoulder.
"Youīve taken your punishment very well, Thomas. Iīm cutting the last two strokes."
I felt a hot rush of disappointment and a strong urge to bawl at the mentioning of my name. So I was human after all, sir? Quickly, I pulled myself together.
"Sir, permission to speak, sir!"
"Granted."
"Thank you, sir. Sir, Iīm very grateful for your offer, but please, sir, let me finish this, please." I realized I was babbling and took a deep breath. "Sir, I request to be given the last two strokes, please, if you donīt mind."
I must have gone mad.
"So be it. Call out the next one, then."
"Thank you, sir. Forty-one, sir."
Ssssshhhh-thwack! I used all the strenghth left in me to concentrate on making it, and I did.
"Thank you, sir. Forty-two, sir."
Sssshhhh-thwack! Through the fire and steel my heart pounded with victory. Itīs over. Iīve made it, I really have.
"Thank you, sir. Sir, my punishment is completed."
I allowed myself to relax , body and soul. Pain filled my brain, my face, my arms, my torso and legs, beaming out from my ass and thighs. It peaked and faded, but didnīt leave me. I could still feel blood trickling along my legs. I really didnīt care.
I could hear people move about in the room, talking with muffled voices. Somebody laughed shortly and continued talking. The nurse approached me and clamped the blood pressure bracelet around my arm. I glanced quickly at her while she concentrated on reading my status, and she caught my eye. She put a plump hand on my back and whispered:
"You were very brave."
I didnīt answer. I closed my eyes, hoping theyīd let me hang on the rack for ever. I didnīt want to disturb my body after what it had gone through. The butt plug being removed, my temperature taken again. Apparently I was still alive.
"Get him off the rack."
I was unstrapped and helped to the floor. At first my legs couldnīt hold my bodyweight. I felt very dizzy and black spots danced in front of me.
"Put him down there."
I was supposed to kneel after the whipping, too, and I wanted to do everything right this time, but I had no strength left in me. I thankfully let myself be stretched out on the cold floor, lying on my belly. My ass throbbed and ached distantly. I felt my limp penis against the inside of my right thigh.
The chief stood beside me. I recognized his shoes. They were very expensive-looking, probably handmade. I saw other shoes behind him. They were all pointed towards me.
"As I said before, Thomas," the chief said, "youīve come a long way. You took your penalty like a man. Iīm proud of you. Youīre given 50 points for this and your readiness to accept and submit. Youīre not to be whipped for a month from now on. As soon as you īve finished your letters you will be transferred to the next step and get on with your treatment. Have you understood what Iīve told you?"
I managed to get up, first on hands and knees, then on my knees alone.
"Sir, Iīve understood. Thank you very much, sir. Thank you for what youīve done for me, sir."
Nothing more was said. I was dressed and taken back to my cell. I didnīt even have to clean up the puke.
Iīve written this down very carefully, because I donīt ever want to forget. It was my first victory in the battle against myself, and I won it.
Iīve had my butt disinfected with some kind of ointment and dressed, I guess it looks a fright, they didnīt even put the rubbers back on and I wasnīt handcuffed either. If I wanted to I could say long time no see to my Willie Down Under, but I wonīt. Even though Iīm in great pain I feel very happy. I wonīt be whipped for a month and when Iīve finished my letters Iīm out of here. Iīm very curious about what will happen next. Canīt be any worse than this, can it?
Sir, Iīd like to thank you again for what happened today. I know by now whoīs reading my papers, and I feel good about it.