Thursday, July 7, 2011

'96 Months' III

I waited in the preparation room kneeling naked on fours. A guard kept giving me water to drink. Finally, Abdul entered.

"Good afternoon, little one. I’ve just finished flogging a boy. He screamed and wriggled vigorously and I enjoyed excoriating him. So, I am ready for you."

Once again he toyed with my pussy. It had been a month of sexual abstinence and his touch felt good. He knew a woman’s anatomy surprisingly well.

"Remember the rules. Stay still. Point your buttocks."

He motioned to the guard for more water. It was my fifth glass.

"Today you will be completely naked. It is very hot. You will be more comfortable."

I finished the water as the ankle cuffs were attached. Neck collar next. Then after I finished the water the wrist cuffs. The wrists were hooked together and the long strap attached. No cape covering my torso. No belt to protect my kidneys. I was completely nude when led off the table down the hall. I entered the chamber. It was packed full. I stared straight ahead in fear.

I was later to learn that the execution of floggings are announced in the local newspaper. And when readers see the name of a European women they flock to the chamber and in some instances fight to get a seat.

Abdul did his thing. Reading my sentence. Showing me the instrument of punishment. He was harsh. I screamed into the leather gag. On the fifth stroke my bladder opened. The crowd cheered. The guards released me.

Back in the preparation room I resumed my position on the table without any direction from the guard. The cuffs and collar were removed and Abdul returned. A salve was applied to the welts as Abdul inspected his work.

"You were very good today, little one. Better than the boy."

Again his fingers played but this time after lubricating them on my feminine wetness they moved up and poked my sphincter. He worked his fingers in. One then two. I gasped when he attempted a third.

"Open for me. Be good or our next meeting will be very difficult."

Did I have a choice? His other hand began to work my pussy and I surrendered. I put my head down on the table, moved my knees even further apart and pushed my cheeks up. He worked both my passages and although my buttocks flamed I felt myself moving to the rhythm of his magical fingers. He detected my impending climax and stopped.

"No, little one. You will remain without gratification. It will focus your thoughts."

He carefully withdrew his hands and moved to my front. Again his robe parted. More deliberate this time and his manhood poked through the opening. It was fairly erect and becoming stiffer.

"I have been quite reasonable with your floggings. I do have complete discretion over you. The cane to your buttocks is painful. But you should consider if I indeed demonstrated its use on the bottom of your feet as I have suggested."

I needed to hear no more. His erect penis was within two inches of my mouth. I took it between my lips and sucked gently. He grabbed my ears and gave me a long lesson in fellatio.


Back to my prison cell. The guard placed a red "X" through the second "5" on the poster. Only 490 more strokes. Abdul gave special instructions for me to remain with my wrists cuffed behind me all day. He knew I was quite excited and wanted to make sure I did not masturbate.


The following day the guard placed the pillory in my cell. I put it on but was confused since it was not shower day. The guard opened the large door. I crawled out and was led me down the hall where I lined up behind the other prisoners. We stood very close together and I pushed my mound against the buttocks of the girl in front of me. Her smooth warm skin felt good. She must have been equally frustrated for she pushed back and wriggled against me. A guard walked by and we curtailed our movement.

One by one the prisoners were called into a room. It was finally my turn and a door was opened and I was directed into a room. It was the prison infirmary. A doctor was checking the prisoners in a standard medical examination.

As a nurse I knew the routine. The urine sample was somewhat humiliating. The doctor held a beaker between my thighs as I concentrated to comply with his request. Otherwise there was a breast examination, eyes, nose, throat. Many questions. A thorough pelvic examination where I became noticeably aroused. Then, with my feet on the floor and bent over the examining table, a rectal exam.

"Spread widely please."

He pinched my buttocks and commented on Abdul’s expertise with the cane.

"No scars. Some welts. When were you last caned?"

I told him yesterday and he seemed surprised.

"You heal quickly and your flesh withstands the strokes nicely. I’m going to recommend to Abdul that he can increase the severity. He’s probably overly concerned about your fine white European skin."

As he spoke his gloved fingers probed my rectum. As with Abdul, the doctor began with one finger, then two, then began working in three.

"You are too tight here. In the Arab world that is not good for a woman. If a man wants to use your backside, you may be torn. As a nurse you know that such an injury can be very painful and difficult to suture."

His three fingers were fully inserted. He worked them back and forth, then twisted. I grunted with discomfort, although I did feel some twinge of excitement in my pussy. We both understood that a fourth finger would not be possible.

"We will work on this. Abdul wants you opened and it will be better for you."

The doctor withdrew his fingers, walked to a cabinet and withdrew some equipment. While he was working to adjust some odd device, I decided to attempt a ploy. I complained of vaginal itching. Normally some type of cream lotion is prescribed which when applied to the genitalia of many women, becomes medically sanctioned masturbation. The doctor listened and smiled knowingly.

"We occasionally get such complaints from new prisoners. I have just the solution."

He returned to the table where I remained standing with feet well spread, bent at the waist and my stomach on the table.

"This is a standard insertion that we use to the begin the process. The guards will help you with it when you need to the move your bowels."

As he spoke he lubricated a large shiny metal dildo. At its base was a metal flange with three holes. Through the holes were leather straps. It was obvious that the sizable insertion would be well secured after it impaled my backside.

"Relax for me. This will be tight."

It was. I grimaced with the pain as the large cylinder was slowly inserted. It felt like a telephone pole.

"After a week we’ll go with a larger one. Then move up from there. This is the smallest of the set."
It was hard for me to believe it was the smallest. I guess I was tight compared to the Arab girls.

The doctor instructed me to get up from the table. I felt full and bloated with the steel cylinder filling my colon and stretching my sphincter. The three straps were secured. One came up between my cheeks then split around my hips and the ends were tied together at my belly. The others encircled each thigh and the ends tied together just below the hip on the left and right.

"Walk for me."

It was difficult and the doctor watched with amusement. The straps around my thighs caused the insertion to move with each step. An interesting reminder of my submission and new role in life.
Satisfied, the doctor instructed me to carefully lie back on the table.

"We’ll take care of that vaginal itch."

The doctor put on new gloves.

"Feet in the stirrups."

I was spread wide open as he smeared a cream lotion on the fingers of the glove.

"I’ve found this to be very effective. No prisoner has complained of an itch after I’ve applied this lotion."
He gently massaged in the lotion. It felt wonderful. Months of sexual frustration were ending. My juices began to flow, then I felt a burning sensation. The doctor noticed my concern.

"It has some spice in it. Lie back and enjoy."

He strapped my ankles to the stirrups then moved to stand beside me at the head of the table.
"Perhaps your nipples also?"

I pleaded with him but to no avail. The spiced lotion was applied and the sadistic doctor stood over my head holding onto the wooden pillory while I writhed in agony.

"Yes, we have very few complaints about vaginal itching after I apply the lotion. It is an amazing cure, is it not?"

Tears rolled down my cheeks while the doctor calmly watched my reaction to the burning pain.

"You will learn that you are here to be punished and to serve Abdul. All other thoughts, including those of self gratification, should be put out of your mind. Think of how you can best please Abdul. Then be ready for your next caning. He has been very lenient with you. If he chose, he could apply the remaining strokes tomorrow. You know you would not survive. I suggest you think of ways to return his kindness."

The burning slowly subsided. The doctor released my ankles and a guard led me back to my cell.

For the following weeks my wrists were restrained behind me throughout the day. I could not remove the insertion or touch myself. Each morning a guard removed the object so I could use the toilet. At the end of each week the doctor changed the cylinder to the next largest size. By the next scheduled caning I was wearing the fourth largest and was confident that Abdul would be pleased.

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