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There is no way slave missy can win this lottery.
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, the ninth day of punishment is a lottery. The public is given the chance to paddle the repentant terrorist. Eight lucky winners each get to give her five swats with a special paddle. One lucky winner gets to finish the forty-six required for her punishment by laying six swats of the paddle across missy’s ass.
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Chapter Eleven - On the ninth day of punishment, a lottery gives the public a chance to paddle the repentant terrorist.
Missy awoke early. She wasn’t sure why. It was still dark and there was no smell of coffee or bacon, but the slight rocking of the RV told her that William was up front. She padded out to see what was going on. William was sitting at the kitchen table working on his computer.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
William grimaced at her and said, “Grading homework.”
“What?” she replied.
There are twenty-five winners to our lottery. Each has submitted a short essay to the webpage saying why they should be the one to deliver the final six spanks with the wooden paddle.
“Oh,” missy said. “That’s what the lottery was all about.”
“Yes,” said William. “One winning ticket equals five swats with the paddle. Except the first place winner, he or she gets the last six swats.
Missy’s eyes went wide, “Twenty-five!” she blurted out. “That means over a hundred swats! One hundred twenty-five swats will turn my ass into hamburger!”
“Whoa, whoa, missy,” he quickly replied. “That includes the undercard. You will receive the standard forty-six. But before the main event– that’s you– there are three slaves who will be punished with twenty swats each, and two volunteers. One is a man from the stage crew who wants to use this occasion to come out as a painslut. The other is a painslut wife who has this fantasy of her husband spanking her to orgasm in front of a large crowd. She’s been here every day imagining herself up on stage. She really shouldn’t count in the number of winners because it will be her husband swinging the paddle.
“It’s still forty-six swats with a wooden paddle,” she pouted. “I got ten with the wood yesterday and they hurt like hell. How am I going to stand forty-six?”
“You will,” William said as he stroked her face. “I have a few surprises of my own for today. I can’t promise that it won’t hurt, but it won’t hurt near as much as it did yesterday.”
Missy looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes, and he said softly, “You are just going to have to trust me on this.” He held her chin in his hand and said, “Have I not protected you as much as possible up to this point?”
She nodded her head.
“Go do your morning routine,” he said. “I’ll have breakfast waiting for you by the time you get back.”
Since it was early, they had time for a very leisurely breakfast. William even cut his eggs in half before shoveling them into his mouth.
They were still running early when they made their morning parade lap through the town so William circled the square four times to kill time before heading back to the fairgrounds. As the crew was attaching the cable to the top of her cage, William said, “Don’t worry about what is going to happen today. Think about something else to take your mind off it while you are hanging around waiting.”
“I will,” she answered as her cage began to rise into the air. Once the cage was clear of the stage, the crew began assembling the equipment needed for the day. Missy watched as they put together five wooden punishment benches. They were the standard padded bench with a kneeler so that the person receiving the punishment could be strapped down on their knees with their body bent over the main portion of the bench. The height of the bench was adjustable so that the person’s shoulders ended up lower than their hips, forcing their ass up into the air.
On the side of each bench, a highly-polished wooden paddle, about three inches wide and an inch thick, hung by a leather strap from a wooden peg. The paddle looked very familiar to missy. She rubbed her ass as she remembered the ten swats she had received at the end of her fourth wrestling match the day before.
After all five stations were set up, the crew rolled a cart out onto the stage with the parts for another bench. Missy knew that this bench would be different. For one thing, the pieces were much larger. For another, the wood was all painted a very dark black. The finish, whatever it was, was so shiny that every surface looked almost like a black mirror.
After the wood was in place, the crew attached black, soft leather pads to the kneeler and main bench. They also bolted in place matching black restraints for her ankles and wrists and a very wide black belt which would go over her back to hold her perfectly in place.
“It’s like watching someone build your gallows,” she said silently to herself.
She did not remain quiet, however, when they brought out the paddle. Her loud gasp could be heard up to the top row of the grandstands.
Missy had reason to gasp. Unlike the five paddles in front of the stage, the paddle intended for her had a very shiny black finish. It was also much larger, almost six inches across and two inches thick. A small cable of some sort came out of the end of the handle and snaked its way off stage to where the recording engineer sat at his console. She cringed as she thought of that massive hunk of wood slamming into her ass.
“Think of something else. Think of something else. Think of something else.” she kept telling herself. But all she could think of was that huge black paddle smacking against her ass flesh.
“I guess you could call this escape sex,” she said to herself as she braced herself against the back of the cage. Her eyes closed as her fingers began stroking her breasts. She moaned slightly as one hand moved down between her legs. Today she wasn’t seeking a plateau of pleasure. She was seeking an orgasm of escape.
“There is a certain freedom in slavery,” she thought to herself as her hands took her higher. “I don’t have to worry about what people think of me for masturbating in public. They already think of me as a slave. I’m not really a person in their eyes. Normal rules and morality don’t apply to me anymore. As long as I don’t disobey my Master, I can do just about anything in public.”
In fact, it helped with her arousal to think of the fact that the stagecrew and anyone in the audience who had arrived early were watching her as she began to writhe in pre-orgasmic ecstacy. Anyone who had not noticed what she was doing was made aware by the loud “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” which echoed through the arena with her first orgasm. She didn’t stop there, however, and continued pumping with her hand until she had climaxed twice more.
Her sweat made her body glisten even more as she panted and gasped in post-orgasmic recovery. “That took my mind off things for a while,” she said aloud as she relaxed back against the bars. “Now all I have to do is to keep the fire glowing.” For the remaining time she continued to stroke herself very slowly while keeping her eyes closed to shut out the frightful sight of the waiting black, shiny punishment bench and its matching huge black paddle.
At two o’clock, William’s voice broke through the wall her mind had erected to keep out reality. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “today we reveal the winners to our lottery.” He paused for dramatic effect, and continued, “Today, eight of our lucky winners will get to deliver five swats of punishment directly to the repentant terrorist’s ass.”
He paused once again, this time to wait out the extended cheers and applause. “That only adds up to forty,” he said dramatically. “Our winner with the best reason for delivering punishment to our little terrorist’s ass will be given the privilege of finishing her off with the final six strokes.” He again had to wait out the raucous crowd.
“In addition,” he continued, holding up his hands for silence. “In addition, twelve third-place winners will be given the task of helping to punish three very deserving, disobedient slaves. Three more second-place winners will get the pleasure of helping a young man out himself as a painslut. And one very fortunate husband will get to fulfill his wife’s ultimate fantasy.”
The crowd again began applauding wildly as three slaves were led to the first three benches on the track in front of the stage. Two of the slaves were female, one was male. All three were totally hairless. Their bodies were well-greased so that the lights reflected off of them as they were led into place by large security officers.
“Those chains are a bit of overkill,” missy thought to herself. “They are way larger than they have to be. And that collar would hold back an elephant. Doesn’t anyone realize how fakey those look?” She raised her arm to point down at the slaves as she spoke. As she did so, her own chains rattled and caught her attention. “God!” she exclaimed as she suddenly realized, “Their chains are smaller than mine!” She smiled and said aloud, “But the crowd is eating it up. William, you are a master showman.”
Six more very muscular security people walked out to place the three slaves into their restraints. Two female officers removed the chains and collar from the male slave and dragged him kicking and screaming to the second bench. He continued to struggle as they pushed him to his knees and strapped his ankles in place. They then pushed his knees slightly more apart and pulled the leather straps across the back of his shins. They next pushed his body over the main part of the bench and pulled the wide leather strap across his back. He began wildly flailing his arms, but with his legs and body already held tightly in place, there was little he could do to prevent the two women from pulling his hands down to the front restraint bar and strapping them in place.
One of the security women then turned a small metal wheel beneath the high portion of the bench, raising it another two or three inches into the air. The result was that his body was pulled even tighter and his ass was tilted further up into the air. His balls could be seen hanging down beneath his ass, but fear had evidently caused so much shrinkage that his prick was nowhere to be seen. The two women, as well as the security man who had led the slave out, then walked away and circled around behind the stage.
The remaining two pairs of security men synchronized their actions as they put the two female slaves into the first and third benches. “They had to have practiced that,” missy thought as she watched from above. “The chains hit the ground at the same time. Every restraint was closed exactly together. They even twisted the adjustment wheels exactly the same amount... and the two girls are different heights.”
Missy began to wonder how much of the first slave’s attempts to resist were also rehearsed. She even wondered if these slaves were truly being punished or had been hired for the event with some promise of special treatment or time off. “Nothing in my world is ever what it seems to be,” she said softly to herself. “Or has it always been that way and now that I am just a slave I can see things the way they truly are?”
“Let’s bring out our first three winners,” William said grandly from the stage as three men walked out from behind the stage. Each one stood behind one of the three slaves. “Remember,” William instructed, “five swats and then you put the paddle back on the hook.” He waited for the three to pick up their paddles and get into position before saying, “Begin.”
The three wielding the paddles had obviously not rehearsed. It also looked like they had little, if any, previous experience swinging the paddles. The one striking the male slave was barely hitting him. Perhaps he hadn’t thought about the fact that he might be spanking a male’s ass rather than a female’s and it bothered him. In any case, he just didn’t put his weight into the swing. One of the other men seemed to be swinging about right, and the third was swinging way too hard.
All three slaves were responding slightly differently to the swats. The first girl screamed loudly with each swat; the male made loud grunting noises; the third girl, who was being slammed the hardest, responded to each hit with a loud “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.”
As the winners were setting the paddles back in place, William’s voice once again came over the speakers. “The rest of our participants waiting back stage might want to listen carefully to this,” he began. “I guess we should have done some instruction and practice in the art of swinging a wooden paddle.” The crowd laughed quietly in response.
A stagehand hustled across the stage and handed him a paddle the same size and shape as those on the spanking benches. “First off,” he said, “you need to hold the paddle relaxed in your hand so that the force of the blow doesn’t transfer to your arm.” He swung the paddle at an imaginary target. “But at the same time, you need to hold it firmly enough to transfer the force of the swing to the recipient’s ass.”
He laughed as he held the paddle before him. “And how do you know where that sweet spot is?” he asked. “Use your ears. Listen to the smack. You want just enough to make it pop.” He held the paddle up and swung it through the air, “You might think that swinging it harder would make it hurt even worse, but that isn’t always true. With a solid paddle like this, if you hit too hard, you trap air between the surface of the paddle and the person’s flesh. That lessens the transfer of force to the ass– that’s why some paddles have holes in them.”
He swung the paddle once more, “And even if that doesn’t happen and you actually transfer the full effect of a really hard swing, you will more than likely overload the nerves in the ass. You might do a lot of damage, but you won’t cause near the amount of pain that a lesser hit would cause. Remember you are trying to hurt, not harm, the slave. You want a chastised slave, not a damaged slave.”
Three more winners walked out from behind the stage. This time two of them were women, one was not much more than a teenager while the other appeared to be at least fifty years old. The male was somewhere in between. When they picked up the paddles, the grandmother looking lady turned to the crowd and said, “I taught high school for thirty-five years before I retired and every day I dreamed of doing this to some of my disruptive students. This is for all you active teachers out there who have that same dream.”
The crowd roared with laughter and applause. “OK, OK,” William said from the stage. “Remember five strokes, then put the paddles back.”
The youngest woman was in the first position. She seemed to know how to swing a paddle and the female slave yelped very loudly with each strike. Her “Aieee” became louder, longer, and higher-pitched with each strike.
The granny was swatting the male slave. She also seemed to know her way around a paddle and applied each swat very deliberately. Her smile grew wider and wider with each stroke. By the third strike, the male slave’s grunts had become actual cries of pain.
The man in the third position looked much more amateurish in his delivery, but the loud “Smack!” of the paddle proclaimed that he was still able to strike very efficiently. The crowd could see that the young female slave’s ass was growing very, very red under the assault. Some, sitting in the right place in the stands or directly behind the slave in the ground seats, could also see that moisture was collecting between the slave’s legs. Her cries of “Oh, oh, oh, OH, OH!” also hinted at the fact that she was most likely a painslut who was sexually excited by the spanking.”
After all three had finished their five swats, they replaced the paddles and returned to behind the stage. As they walked back three more winners– two men and one woman– were walking out to take their place. The woman who was first to walk out, stopped behind the male slave. The two men then took their places behind the female slaves.
This time, there was no instruction from William. The three just picked up the paddles and began swatting. The woman had perfect form with the paddle. On each strike, the male cried out loudly, “Aahhh. Aahhh. Aahhh. Aahhh. Aahhhiieeee!” She smiled as she heard him break into an almost female cry of pain. The two men, meanwhile, delivered their swats. The first female slave continued to scream in pain while the third continued her noisy journey toward a possible orgasm.
When the five swats were completed, the three returned back stage and three different winners took their place. This time all three wielding the paddles were women. They did not all begin swinging together, but instead the second two waited patiently while the first finished off her slave.
The first woman stood slightly to the side and swung the paddle with both hands, but she had very accurate control over her force and aim. The paddle landed squarely on both ass cheeks with a resounding “Thwack!” on every smack. The female slave twisted and thrashed in the restraints, but was unable to avoid the paddle. Her final “Aiiiieeeeeeeeee!” echoed through the stands for several moments after the paddle had been returned to its hook.
The woman left, leaving the other two standing with their paddles. The second woman then began swatting the male slave. She also swung two-handed, but her aim was not quite as good and the timing of the swats way too close together. Despite this, the male slave was crying out a very high-pitched “Aiieee” by the time the paddle had bounced off his ass for the fifth time.
After she left, the third woman stepped up to the panting female slave and gently rubbed the paddle across her swollen ass cheeks. The slave responded with a throaty, “Ahhhhh,” as she slowly writhed in her restraints. The woman then stepped back and swung once like she was swinging a tennis racket. There was a very loud “Smack!” and the painslut slave grunted out an equally loud “Oohhaahh.” A second stroke followed a moment later and the slave responded with slightly more writhing and an even louder “Oohhaahh.” The third and fourth strike seemed to pump the slave’s responses higher and higher.
The woman with the paddle turned to face the crowd. She stood there quietly smiling and waving slightly while the slave made pitiful noises behind her. She seemed to be waiting for something. Finally the slave cried out, “Please! Finish me! Finish me! Make me cum!”
The woman’s smile widened as her arm moved suddenly in a tennis backhand that brought the paddle down exactly across the needy slave’s ass cheeks. She then put the paddle back in place and walked backstage.
The slave gave a very, very loud “Oohhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh” which seemed to go on for a very long time. Then she began thrashing wildly in her bonds and crying out, “Aiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeee” as her orgasm overwhelmed her.
The crowd responded with a standing ovation. William called for all twelve of the winners to come out on stage with him and then had them bow to the crowd. The applause and cheering continued long after the twelve had again left the stage.
After the crowd had finally quieted, William said, “You have just witnessed that what one person experiences as pain, another might find pleasurable. Our next paddling is not a punishment. It is a coming out– no pun intended– for one of our stage crew. He has been a secret painslut for many years. Tonight he steps out of the closet and onto the spanking bench.”
As he spoke a young, thin, black male walked out from behind the stage. He was totally naked, but unlike the slaves before him, he retained all of his body hair. He positioned himself on the spanking bench and then waited passively while one of the female security people strapped him firmly in place. Like the male slave in the first round, his balls were very visible between his slightly spread legs. Unlike that slave, however, his partially erect prick was also clearly visible.
All five winners for this round walked out from behind the stage together and stood in a line behind his naked ass.
Three of the winners were female, two were male. The males were at the head of the line. The first man picked up the paddle and gave it a practice swing. Then standing slightly to the side of the painslut, he delivered five equally-spaced strikes squarely on the young man’s ass. The first strike brought an obvious cry of pain. But the “Aiiee” of the first strike slowly morphed into an equally loud, but softer “Aaahh,” but the time the fifth strike landed.
While the paddle was changing hands, William said to the crowd, “I call your attention to the video projection on the back wall of the stage.” The crowd looked up to see video feed from beneath the painslut. His prick looked enormous on the screen and it bobbed up and down as small droplets of pre-cum gathered on its tip.
The next winner stepped up. He also gave a practice swing before beginning. His swats were not equally spaced, however. He seemed to wait for the slut’s ass cheeks to unclench before delivering the next blow. It was obvious from the bound young man’s cries– and the amount of pre-cum oozing from his prick– that he was continuing to be turned on by the spanking.
The first of the three women then took the paddle. She delivered her swats extremely fast. So fast, in fact, that the painslut’s body reacted almost as if it were one swat.
The second woman paused to get a feel for the paddle. She swung it back and forth several times before stepping into place slightly to the side of the spanking bench. Then she drew back and swung in a sweeping arc all the way until impact. His cry of “Aieeeaaahhh” proclaimed that she had properly “followed through” on the swat, allowing the force to be transferred to the paddle after that first instant of impact.
Her next four swats, at apparently random intervals, were similarly effective. He responded both to the pain and to the sexual excitement that pain created. His prick was now bobbing wildly. It was apparent to most of the crowd that he was very close to climax.
The final winner accepted the paddle from the second woman. She also took a moment to get a feel for it, but rather than swinging it, she bounced it several times against her right hand. She was evidently left-handed because that was the hand in which she held the paddle.
She stepped into place and swung in a fluid motion that landed the paddle directly in the middle of the slut’s ass cheeks. After a pause, she again struck, this time slightly above center of the swollen cheeks. The young painslut was now moaning loudly. She slammed the paddle again against his ass and the projected image suddenly became blurred as he ejaculated onto the camera lens.
The woman waited patiently for the young painslut to quit thrashing with his orgasm and then brought the paddle down once again. This time there was no passion component to the scream as a loud “Aiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee” resounded through the stands. After a short pause, she delivered her final swat which created an even louder and more shrill, “Aiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee!”
As the winners walked back to behind the stage, William chuckled slightly, “Well, he’s out of the closet,” he said. “And I think he has learned a very valuable lesson about the difference between male and female painsluts.”
He paused until the crowd became silent and asked, “How many of you know what difference I am referring to?”
There was a loud buzzing as various people told those around them what they thought he meant.
“When a female painslut orgasms,” he said loudly, “she is still sexually excited. She can possibly even go on to another orgasm if the pain continues.” He shook his head and said softly, “But when a male painslut orgasms, his body drops out of arousal and no longer produces endorphins or other responses that turn pain into pleasure. Any pain following ejaculation is only pain.”
As the stage crew helped the young man to stagger to back behind the stage, William finished with, “That’s why the normal rule for a partner of a male painslut is ‘Pain until he pops. After care begins immediately after that.’”
William looked to stage right to watch a couple walking out from behind the stage. He was dressed in a tuxedo while she was dressed in a sequined evening dress. “I need to remind you that what is about to happen is this woman’s fantasy. She wrote the script on this. We are doing nothing that she has not consented to. In fact, although she didn’t give the specific details, everything that happens was requested by her.”
As soon as William finished his explanation, six masked men– who except for the masks were dressed identically to the security people from earlier– rushed out of the shadows and grabbed the woman. She screamed for her husband to help, but he responded loudly. “Why should I help you? I am the one who hired these men. Tonight you are going to get what you deserve and everyone is going to see it happen.”
The men dragged her over in front of the last spanking bench and began tearing the dress from her body. Beneath the dress she was wearing dark stockings held up by a garter belt and a matching set of black panties and bra. Two of the men held her arms over the top of the spanking bench while the other two positioned her stocking clad knees on the lower padded kneeler. Once her legs were strapped firmly in place, the two men holding her arms stretched them down to the front restraining bar and cuffed them in place. They then adjusted the height to pull her tightly in place, but they did not strap down her body with the large strap that would have gone over her lower back.
She bucked and twisted in her restraints and screamed, “How can you do this to me!? People can see me!”
“Oh!” her husband roared back, “You are afraid that people can see you? Then why don’t we just give them something to see?”
He then made a show of opening an overly-large pocket knife and began cutting his wife’s bra from her body. One quick cut up the back and then a swipe at each of the straps and the shiny black band of cloth fluttered to the ground.
“Noooooooooooo!” she screamed. “They can see my tits!”
“They’ll see more than that in just a moment,” he said as he slipped the tip of the knife beneath the side of her black, french-cut panties. He pulled outward and the fabric fell open on one side. He repeated the motion on the other side and the fabric flapped open in the front and back, but would not drop because it was held in place by her garter belt which was holding up her stockings.
“Oh,” he said dramatically, “I guess that will have to go, too.” He then reached up and cut each of the suspender straps and then the back of the garter belt. The elastic band popped loose around her waist. One of the masked men reached in and grabbed it. She screamed shrilly as it was pulled from beneath her stomach. Her husband then reached up from behind and pulled the tattered remains of her panties from between her legs.
Somehow, she looked more naked with her stocking drooping on her legs than the slaves had with no clothing at all on their bodies. Her wild gyrations while she screamed and thrashed were also much more obscene than had been the fully-restrained struggles of the previous inhabitants of the spanking bench.
“Do you know how many swats you are going to get with this paddle?” her husband asked ominously.
“No,” she answered back. Then she began begging, “Please don’t do this to me in public. I would never be able to stand the shame. Please, please, please.”
William’s voice inserted itself between her cries and her husband’s next comments. “Her safe word is ‘rutabaga’” he said softly. “If she even whispers that, all of this will stop.”
Her husband seemed to wait for him to finish his announcement before screaming, “You deserve this! You deserve all of this! You have been asking for this all year with your bad behavior and now I am going to spank your ass in front of all of these people until you cum at least twice.”
“Nooooo!” she cried out, but even the most dense person in the audience could tell that the shakiness in her voice was cause by arousal, not fear.
The husband then stepped into proper position and swung the first blow with the wooden paddle. He knew what a paddle was and how to use it. The wood landed with a resounding “Smack!” against the skin of her ass. Her voice cried out in a loud “Aieeeee!”
“The first one always hurts, no matter what,” missy thought as she watched from above. She noticed, however, that the wayward wife did not clench her ass cheeks in anticipation of the next smack. In fact, the muscles of her legs were totally relaxed as she opened herself up to the impact and the pain that would follow.
“Smack!” the second blow sounded. Someone in the audience yelled out, “Yeah, give it to her.” She screamed slightly, but her cry was already changing from the “Aieee” of pain to the “Aaah” of passion.
Between the smacks, her ass bounced wildly. For a proper spanking, she should have been held tightly in place, but evidently she knew that her wild motions would display her sex more lewdly to the crowd. She also knew that she was opening and closing herself in her gyrations almost as if she were intentionally twerking for the crowd. The movements made it even more obvious that her hairy snatch and the insides of her thighs were quickly becoming coated with her love juices.
“Smack!” the husband continued his relentless assault on his wife’s ass. “Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!” His pace was slow and deliberate. He was giving enough time for the full measure of pain to spread through her body before layering on another swat. Meanwhile her outcry had changed to a low moaning wail which increased slightly in volume with each blow of the paddle.
“Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!” Her ass was making wild circles in the air, coming up to meet the paddle with each swing. Her wail was starting to break up into a series of high pitched grunts and squeals. “Oh, ah, oh, ah,” she was almost chanting as the paddle struck again and again.
“Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!” She was now raising her ass to meet the paddle and then slamming her front down hard onto the padded bench. Each time her sopping cunt hit the bench she would grind forward pressing herself hard against the now slick leather.
“Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!” Her cry changed to “Harder, harder, harder, harder, harder” as she followed her own orders and slammed herself harder and harder against the leather of the bench.
Suddenly she stiffened and arched her back as much as she could with her arms held low beneath her. She raised her head and thrust her ass up toward the paddle as she burst forth into a high-pitched scream of passion.
“Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!” the husband continued pounding away with the paddle. His wife was now flopping like a fish out of water as she arched and straighten her back and wailed out her orgasmic cry.
“Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!” She totally stiffened. Her body was quivering and shaking against the pads as her hands and legs pulled strongly against their restraints.
“Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!” She was making no sound at all now. Her back was again beginning to arch as she threw her head far back so that she could breath in greater and greater quantities of air.
“Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!” She exploded into a second orgasm. Her ass was pumping up and down furiously as she slammed her cunt into the leather. Her face was making circles in the air as she shook wildly and screamed out incoherently.
“Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!” Her husband gave her several more hard swats with the paddle and then stepped back, breathing hard from exertion. She thrashed and screamed for another moment or two and then collapsed senseless against the leather of the bench.
The crowd stood and cheered and applauded and stomped their feet. Several of the security crew came back out front. Their masks from the beginning of this fantasy were hanging loose around their necks. Four of them quickly released the restraints from the wife’s arms and legs. They then picked her up under their arms and carried her backstage still unconscious. The husband followed along behind them, still carrying the paddle which had fulfilled his wife’s erotic fantasy.
William waited for the crowd to settle and said, “Now it’s time to complete today’s punishment of our repentant terrorist.” He pointed to the spanking bench on the stage. “You will notice that this restraint bench is a larger than the ones used up to this point.” He held up the paddle and said with a deep chuckle, “So is the paddle.”
Holding the paddle with the handle upright, he said, “And you will notice that there is a thin video cable attached to the handle of this paddle.” Pointing to the wide end of the paddle, he said, “There is a small video camera embedded in the tip of this paddle. If you watch the projection on the back wall of the stage during this punishment, you will see a paddle’s eye view of an ass being thoroughly punished.”
That comment was greeted with shouts and applause. “So,” he continued, “let’s get our little terrorist in place and bring out our next winner.”
Missy’s cage descended to the stage. William unlocked the huge padlock on the door and opened it so missy could step out. He then slowly and carefully removed the collar and shackles and finally the manacles which held her wrists. He followed behind her as she slowly walked over to the bench and put herself in position.
Four female security officers came out and began strapping her in place. These four were nowhere near as burly as the security people from earlier. William had selected them for their looks, not their skill. He knew that missy would give them no problem.
Once she was firmly in place, William announced, “Our ninth runner up is Harriet Anderson.”
A middle-aged woman in tight pants and a halter top bounced out onto the stage. “I’ve always wanted to be on the other side of the paddle,” she bubbled. The audience laughed.
“Remember,” instructed William, “just hard enough to make a loud pop is the most painful.” He then handed her the paddle.
She stood behind missy for several seconds swinging the paddle like a baseball player awaiting the first pitch. The image projected on the back wall showed the intended target. Then she swung two-handed and slammed the paddle into missy’s ass. It made a very loud “Smack!” and missy gave an equally loud screech.
The woman swung four more times in quick succession and then stood panting with the paddle in her hand. It was hard to tell if it was from exertion or if she had been that turned on by swinging the paddle. Missy, meanwhile, wailed in pain.
“Thank you, Harriet,” William boomed out as he took the paddle from her hands. The audience gave her a short round of applause and then he announced, “Our eighth runner up is Raul Rodriguez.”
An Hispanic gentlemen stepped onto the stage and William handed him the paddle. He made no attempt to warm up, but instead immediately began swatting missy’s ass. Each of his blows resounded throughout the arena and missy yelped slightly louder with each swat. She had tried to go into the pain, but each winner had a different style and it takes several swings to get into the pain. Missy was starting over every five swats.
Again the crowd gave a short round of applause for his efforts and William announced the next winner. This continued until the second runner up had completed her turn with the paddle. William then turned to the crowd and said, “Our grand prize winner– the one who gets to apply the final six strokes of punishment to our repentant terrorist– is Alexander Berkman. His essay about the fact that his wife lost her job at one of the companies whose computers were affected by this terrorist won him the right to finish her off on this day of punishment.”
He stretched out his hand and said, “Welcome Mister Berkman to our stage.”
A young man in his mid-twenties walked out onto the stage. His dark hair and beard were very neatly trimmed. He took the paddle from William and then began to position himself properly behind missy. Before he actually began swinging, he leaned in very close and said softly to her, “Hello, Vicki. I hope you appreciated using my program as much as I did creating it.”
It was Jarred! The final winner was the young man who had duped Vicki, now slave missy, into inserting the virus on the store’s computers.
He laughed softly as he stepped back into position with the paddle. The audience watched on the projection screen as the paddle zeroed in and slammed down very hard on missy’s already red and swollen ass. He struck five more times at a measure pace. It wasn’t slow, but it wasn’t hurried. Missy was screaming at the top of her lungs. She was screaming, “It’s him! It’s him! It’s him! It’s him!” but with the roar of the crowd her voice was unintelligible.
After the sixth blow, he turned and faced the crowd. William came over to shake his hand and congratulate him on a job well done. He smiled in satisfaction that he once more had rubbed everyone’s face in his brilliance and cunning. As William took his hand, however, he suddenly shook violently and dropped to the ground.
Several men in black uniforms with protective vests that said “Homeland Security,” rushed onto the stage. William turned to face the startled crowd. “I want to thank Homeland Security for the loan of this marvelous hand tazer,” he said as he held up his right hand displaying a bright silver disk in his palm.
“Lying on the stage in front of you,” he began to explain, “is an unrepentant terrorist. I won’t say his true name because I don’t want to add to his fame. But he is the one who wrote the virus slave missy was convicted of planting on her store’s computer.”
The officers had Jarred’s arms tightly cinched behind his back and were marching him offstage as William continued, “He had the arrogance to enter our little lottery... and the technical hacking skills to make sure that he was one of the twenty-five finalists. He wrote a very convincing essay to insure that he would be in at least the top nine and get to apply his paddle to missy’s ass.”
He shook his head as he– and the audience– watched Jarred being loaded into an armored vehicle of some sort. He then continued, “But pride often leads to stupidity. The name he chose, Alexander Berkman, was a rather famous anarchist in the early 1900s.”
He turned to watch as the security babes began to release missy from her restraints. “He forgot that big brother is always listening on the internet. That name was flagged and its use triggered an investigation.”
He helped missy to her feet and then turned back to the crowd to say, “I am sure you will be seeing more of Alex Berkman– or whatever his slave name ends up being– in the near future.”
The crowd stared back in stunned silence for several moments as what William had just explained sank in. Then they erupted in an extremely loud cheer that continued as he helped missy into the cage and closed the door. Before the cage rose into the air, he said softly, “I’ve known since early this morning. I couldn’t risk telling you in case you panicked and scared him off.” He paused and then said, almost defensively, “... and I had to let him swing the paddle. You’ve come too far for this to all get thrown out because a day wasn’t taken properly to completion.”
Missy just smiled weakly at him and grabbed hold of the bars of the cage to steady herself as it rose into the air.
An hour later, William returned with the ATV and trailer and hauled her back to the RV. When the got there, she went immediately to her bedroom and lay face down on the bed. Her ass was very, very, very red; very, very sore; and very swollen.
A few minutes later William came in to apply the healing ointment that would take away the pain. “It looks a lot worse than it actually is,” he said softly. “A couple of applications of this and you will be good as new.”
Missy turned her head to look at him. “Why,” she asked, “didn’t it hurt as much as I thought it would?”
“Larger is not always harder,” he replied. “The paddle was bigger, and slightly heavier, which meant that the people swung it slightly slower and that there was a bigger surface area in contact with your skin when it hit. The reason a cane hurts so bad is that it is small and it is light so you can whip it through the air.” He laughed slightly, “Besides,” he continued, “the paddle was a slapstick.”
“I didn’t think it was very funny,” she huffed back.
“Slapstick means funny,” he replied, “because in the really old days, vaudeville comedians would hit people with a big wooden paddle that made a lot of noise, but didn’t really hurt. That’s because it was actually two very thin paddles separated by an equally thin air space. What the audience actually heard was the two paddles– or sticks– slapping together. It was a slap stick. That huge paddle has a slap stick built into it and a microphone alongside the camera to pick up the noise.”
“The paddle was a fake?” she said incredulously.
“Not a fake,” he replied, “just augmented so it made more noise that expected.”
“And you kept telling people to hit only hard enough to make a loud smack,” she said, raising up slightly from the bed. “Were the other paddles also slapsticks?” she asked.
“No,” he answered, “they were totally real. But those people don’t have another show tomorrow.”
She relaxed back onto the bed while he continued smearing the salve on her bruised behind. “That tazer thing you zapped Jarred with was real, too, wasn’t it?” she asked sleepily.
“Very real,” he answered. “And so were the agents from Homeland Security. That boy has angered a lot of very important people. I think the courts will be very harsh on him.”
He patted her on her red ass and said, “You lay here quietly while I fix us supper. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
“OK,” she replied. Then as William was leaving the room, she said in a soft, but bitter voice, “I hope they send him to the mines.”
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END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN OF THIRTEEN
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story continues in Twelve Days a Slave 12: Lucinda's Schooltime Academy