| The Kitchen by
Kenny & Jennifer
ken&jen@oral.worldonline.co.uk
The Kitchen
“Caitlin! Get down here!” Rob Johnson yelled up the stairs.
Caitlin looked at her twin Lindsay and groaned. “What did I do this time?” she
snapped. Her dad had certainly been on edge lately.
Lindsay raised an eyebrow. Caitlin was certainly no stranger to being the brunt
of their dad’s anger. Trouble seemed to just follow her. Unlike her warm,
easygoing twin, Caitlin had a quick temper and a smart mouth.
“Goddammit Caitlin!” Rob shouted again. “Get down here now!”
Caitlin rolled her eyes and stomped toward the stairs. “I’m COMING!” she
yelled. Her father had been short with all of them for the past few weeks. He
was trying to complete some big business deal, but there seemed to be one
conflict after another. He was working late every night, and when he was home
his cell phone rang continuously. Rob wasn’t the most patient man to begin with,
but these days he was a nightmare.
Caitlin flounced down the stairs, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
“Problem?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Bad move. Rob’s eyes bore into her. “The kitchen,” he said coldly.
Caitlin followed his gaze. She had forgotten about the kitchen. She and one of
her friends had made veggie pizzas for lunch. Shredded bits of mozzarella cheese
decorated the counter, mushroom stems and pieces of red and green peppers
covered the floor. Sauce had hardened all over the top of the stove. Crumbs
and spices were everywhere. At least four cutting knives were covered with
white onion and seeds from the peppers. A baking pan with charcoaled shreds of
cheese was left on the kitchen table, along with dirty dishes, a can of parmesan
cheese, and a glass of water that had tipped over. The sink was piled high with
dishes. It was a disaster.
“Oops,” Caitlin said sheepishly.
Rob glared at her. “This is the last thing I need to come home to,” he snapped.
“I spend my entire Saturday at work and I come home to this. Clean up after
yourself, Caitlin. What’s wrong with you?”
Caitlin shrugged. It was kind of ironic to hear Rob complain about the mess in
the kitchen. She had heard enough of the stories from her father’s college
days. According to his best friends, the football house that Rob lived in was
so dirty and filthy that it was nicknamed “The Hole.” And Rob’s roommates
swore that his room was the most unkempt.
“They’re not all mine,” Caitlin said defensively. “And why do you automatically
assume they are mine anyway?”
Well, she actually knew the answer to that. Lindsay and her older sisters
Allison and Natalie were compulsively neat. Allison’s closet was color coded
with all the hangers evenly spaced out. Natalie was just habitually neat. God
forbid they ever left a dish in the sink. And her youngest sister Anna was 12
and pretty good about cleaning up. Caitlin was once again the delinquent in the
family.
“I want this kitchen clean,” Rob ordered.
“Fine,” Caitlin said, turning to walk back up stairs.
Rob grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Now.”
Caitlin huffed loudly. “I need to make a phone call, I’ll clean up in a minute.”
Rob was already shaking his head. “No. You had all day to clean this up.” He
started to say something more when his cell phone went off.
Rob’s attention was immediately distracted. He quickly became immersed in the
phone call, his voice rising. Caitlin wandered into the kitchen to examine the
extent of the damage.
Her sister Anna appeared at the door. “Nice job,” she said sarcastically.
“Thanks,” Caitlin snapped. “How about you help me?”
“How about you drop dead?” was Anna’s snippy reply. The girl was growing into a
terror.
Caitlin started to comment, then turned away. It wasn’t even worth it. Anna
had issues. When their mother had walked out on the family more than a decade
ago, Anna had been just a baby. Rob had been struggling to piece his life back
together, and it was Anna who had taken the brunt of the bitter divorce.
“Have fun,” Anna sneered, then left the kitchen.
Caitlin pushed a few dishes around in the sink, feeling a little bit overwhelmed
about the mess. She hadn’t intentionally trashed the kitchen. And it hadn’t even
crossed her mind to clean things up. Besides, she had been busy thinking about
her plans for the evening with Tommy Fitzpatrick, the latest boy trying to get
into her pants.
Caitlin’s mind was spinning. Where was she going to go with Tommy tonight? Her
sister Natalie had been in a good mood lately. Maybe she would drop them off
somewhere. Caitlin ran a hand through her golden blond hair. What should she
wear? Caitlin glanced over her shoulder. Rob was pacing back and forth, still
deeply engaged in his phone conversation. Caitlin knew from experience that he
would be a while.
She dashed back upstairs and knocked on her sister Natalie’s door.
“Come in!” Natalie called. Music was blaring.
“Hi,” Caitlin said, glancing around her sister’s bedroom. Of course, everything
was immaculate.
“What’s up?” Natalie asked.
“So I’m going out with Tommy tonight,” Caitlin told her. “Do you have anything
I can wear?”
Natalie shrugged. “You can check my closet.” Exactly the offer Caitlin had
been hoping for. Her sister had quite the wardrobe. Even Allison frequented
Natalie’s closet.
Caitlin began searching, pulling things out left and right. A few shirts
slipped off their hangers and fell on the ground. Caitlin finally pulled out a
low cut blue shirt and held it up in front of the mirror, pausing thoughtfully.
“Can I try this on?” she asked.
Natalie looked up. “Yeah, I guess.”
Caitlin whipped off her little black tank top, threw it on the floor, and pulled
the blue shirt on. “It makes my eyes look so blue,” she said, pleased.
“It’s too big in the shoulders,” Natalie said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t
fall right.”
Caitlin stared at her reflection in the mirror, then nodded. “Okay,” she
agreed. She turned back to Natalie’s closet, pushing hangers out of her way.
“How about this?” she asked, grabbing a black DKNY shirt. She held it out for
her sister’s approval.
“No way,” Natalie told her. “I just got that. I don’t want you wearing it at
some party.”
Caitlin pouted for a minute, then dropped the shirt on the floor. She returned
to the closet, searching even more ferociously.
“So what was dad yelling about?” Natalie asked. “Your mess in the kitchen?”
Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Something like that. I have to clean it up. Dad’s
flipping out. What is his problem lately?”
Natalie stared at her. “Caitlin, that kitchen is disgusting. I went to have a
bagel and I didn’t even want to toast it in there. How did you manage to get
pizza sauce on the toaster? No wonder Dad’s screaming. And all those dishes?
That is so nasty.”
“Oh shut up, Natalie,” Caitlin said, browsing through Natalie’s collection of
designer labels. “I’m going to clean it. Ooh!” she cried, lifting a little
gray tank out. “When did you get this? I’ve never seen it.”
Natalie shrugged. “You know, I don’t think that’s even mine. I think maybe I
borrowed it from Lauren. You can try it.”
Caitlin took off the blue shirt and dropped it on the floor in front of
Natalie’s mirror. She slipped on the gray tank. “What do you think?” she
asked.
“I think that your boobs are falling out of it,” Natalie said, a half smile
forming on her lips. “Dad’s not going to let you out of the house in that.”
“Well, he doesn’t have to see it,” Caitlin shot back, exasperated. “But do I
look good? It looks good on me, right?” She turned to the side, examining her
reflection from all angles.
“Yeah, you look good,” Natalie agreed, surveying Caitlin’s teeny body. Caitlin
was so tiny, except for her fully developed chest. Maybe it looked so large
just because Caitlin was so little and petite. Natalie was much taller, and
more athletic and toned than her younger sister.
“So can I wear it?” Caitlin asked.
Natalie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, just be careful. And I want that shirt back,
washed and ironed. Not thrown in a heap in your room.”
“I’ll take good care of it,” Caitlin promised.
Natalie finally noticed her floor. “Caitlin!” she exclaimed. “Don’t throw my
clothes on the floor! Pick up that stuff and put it back.”
“Oh,” Caitlin said, glancing at the floor. “Sorry.” She picked up the blue
shirt and attempted to put it on a hanger. She got one sleeve on and pushed the
hanger back in the closet. Of course, the hanger was facing the opposite
direction of all the other ones. The shirt slipped off and fell on the floor.
“Caitlin!” Natalie cried again. She looked at her closet in surprise. “What
did you do to my closet?” At least five shirts were on the floor.
Caitlin just stood there looking confused.
Natalie groaned, annoyed. “Forget it. I’ll do it. I have to fix everything
now.”
Caitlin stared at her in disbelief. “Okay. You are just weird. You are getting
as bad as Allison.”
“And you are inconsiderate,” Natalie told her. “I am being nice letting you
look in my closet. You can at least leave my clothes the way you found them.”
Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the shirt,” she said. She walked back to
her room.
“What did dad want?” Lindsay asked.
Caitlin sighed. “Something about the kitchen, I don’t know,” she said
distracted. “Look what Natalie is letting me wear,” she said, holding up the
tank.
“Where’s the rest of it?” Lindsay asked.
“Ha ha, who are you, dad?” Caitlin said, looking in her own closet. “What are
you doing tonight, Linds?”
“Going out with Steve,” her twin told her.
“You think maybe he could drop me off at Tommy’s?” Caitlin asked. She liked the
fact that Lindsay’s boyfriend could drive.
Lindsay nodded. “I’m sure he would.”
“Perfect,” Caitlin said. She made a few phone calls, showered, and put on her
outfit. Oh was she a hooch tonight, it was great.
Natalie and Anna walked into the bathroom just as Caitlin was running a brush
through her hair one last time. “Aren’t you a hoochie,” Natalie said proudly.
“That’s what I like to see.”
“You look like a slut,” Anna said. Natalie gave her a warning look.
“Thank you,” Caitlin said rudely. “You’re such a sweetheart.”
“Cait,” Lindsay said, sticking her head in the door. “Steve’s here. Ready to
go?”
“Yeah,” Caitlin said, grabbing her pocketbook. She started to follow Lindsay
down the stairs, then stopped. “Oh shit,” she cried.
“What?” Lindsay asked.
“Dad. I didn’t clean up the kitchen or do those dishes.”
“Caitlin!” Lindsay exclaimed.
Caitlin paused. She could hear her father on the phone, barking commands.
“Whatever,” she said, shrugging. “He’s busy. I’ll clean up when I get home
tonight. Let’s go.”
Caitlin had a perfect evening. Steve dropped her off at Tommy’s. It was pretty
obvious that Tommy, Tommy’s older brother, and Tommy’s father couldn’t take
their eyes off of her chest.
Well, Tommy was happy enough to get under that tank later that evening. Caitlin
had never seen a boy’s eyes light up in quite that way before. Her father would
kill her if he knew just how much fun Tommy had that evening. It was after
midnight when Caitlin walked in the door. She decided she was too tired to
change, and settled herself into bed. Lindsay wasn’t home. She had probably
decided to sleep over somewhere.
At 1:30am Caitlin heard movement out in the hallway, and a soft knock in the
door.
“Yeah?” she called, thinking maybe it was Lindsay.
Natalie peered in. “Are you up?”
“Sort of,” Caitlin said. “Come in.”
Natalie crawled into Lindsay’s bed. “So what did you do tonight?” she asked.
“Went to a party,” Caitlin told her, then laughed wickedly. “Then back to
Tommy’s.”
“Oh boy,” Natalie said.
“He liked the tank top,” Caitlin said, hiding a grin.
Natalie laughed. “You are such a devil.”
“What did you do?” Caitlin asked. It was fun to bond with Natalie about boys.
Natalie taught her all kinds of techniques to try out. Allison wasn’t around
much, and Lindsay never revealed anything about what she did with Steve. She
was no fun.
“I was out with Joe,” Natalie said. Joe was Natalie’s latest fling. But
Natalie insisted that he was not her boyfriend. Just her friend, she said.
“Friend with benefits,” she called him.
“I gave Tommy a blow job,” Caitlin revealed. “I think it was a good one.”
“That’s my girl,” Natalie said. “Did he come?”
Caitlin nodded. “In my mouth. That’s okay, right? I mean, it’s safe and
everything?”
“I think it actually has nutrients and stuff in it,” Natalie said. “Did he ask
you if he could come in your mouth? He didn’t just do it, did he?”
Caitlin’s mouth dropped open. “He’s supposed to ask?? He didn’t ask, he just
came. What, is that bad? It was really fast,” she added.
“Well, it usually is with 16 year old boys,” Natalie said ruefully. “They just
look at you and oops, there it is. He probably didn’t even realize,” she
assured her sister. “But in the future, they should ask if it’s okay.”
Caitlin didn’t answer, she was pondering this new information. “Am I a slut,
Natalie? Do you think Lindsay does any of this?”
Natalie yawned. “I bet she does,” she said. “We all think she’s a good girl,
but I bet she has a wild side. I hear stuff. I mean, yeah boys sometimes make
things up. They all do. But Steve talks. Your other half is apparently very
skilled. Or so I hear.” She yawned again. “I gotta go to bed. Giving good
blow jobs is hard work.” She laughed and got up.
Caitlin was tired, too. She fell asleep quickly.
Her door flung open about 8 the next morning. Caitlin sat up, completely
startled. Her father was in her bedroom, his hair still wet from an early
morning shower. Rob was a workout fanatic. He had been out running hours ago.
Unfortunately for Caitlin, he had not been able to burn off most of his anger.
“Dad?” Caitlin said questioningly. She was still a little dazed, but there was
fear in her voice.
“Get up,” Rob snapped, grabbing the covers and flinging them on the floor. “We
have some business to discuss.”
Caitlin rubbed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Rob roughly pulled her out of bed. “You are in for it, young lady.” His eyes
narrowed as he took in the outfit she had fallen asleep in. “What the hell is
that?” he asked.
Caitlin looked down at her clothes, having totally forgotten she had fallen
asleep with Natalie’s friend’s barely there tank top on. “Oops,” she said, at a
loss for any other words.
Rob started at her. “Where did that....piece of cloth....come from?” he
demanded, unsure what to call the teeny tank top.
“Natalie,” Caitlin answered slowly.
Rob swore.
Rob knew his daughters were exceptionally attractive, and as a former college
football star, he knew how boys were. It scared the hell out of him. He had
gotten his former wife pregnant back when they were both way too young. And
what a disaster that had been.
“You come with me,” Rob said, remembering why he had stormed into his daughter’s
room in the first place. “Where the hell is Lindsay? And who said you could go
out last night?”
“You were on the phone,” Caitlin said innocently. “We didn’t want to bother
you.”
Rob laughed in disbelief. “Nice try.” He grabbed Caitlin’s arm and dragged her
out into the hallway. “I believe you were told to clean up the kitchen
yesterday?”
It was all starting to dawn on Caitlin. “Oh. Oops,” she said again. “I
forgot. I’m sorry. I’ll do it right now.”
“Oh, you’ll do it,” Rob assured her. “But I think we need to have a little talk
first.” He led Caitlin into his office.
“Daddy,” Caitlin pleaded. “I just forgot. I was thinking about a boy,” she
explained.
Rob surveyed her outfit again. “Apparently so. Don’t even get me started on
how you TOOK OFF last night without telling me where you were going.”
Caitlin had no desire to discuss that tiny detail.
“That kitchen is disgusting,” Rob told her, anger creeping into his voice.
“First of all, you should have never left a mess like that in the first place.
It is disrespectful to the rest of the family who would perhaps like to make or
eat a meal in a sanitary place.”
Caitlin nodded, not wishing to make her father angrier.
“You were told to clean it up,” Rob said. “I told you to do it right then. Not
in twenty minutes. Not in an hour. Not the next morning. And you know that I
would have never let you out of the house with that mess. Or in that outfit,”
he added, his voice dark.
“I’ll clean up the kitchen,” Caitlin said quickly, sensing his anger. “Right
now,” she emphasized.
Rob paused for a minute, then nodded. “I mean it, Caitlin. That kitchen better
be immaculate by the time I get back.”
“Where are you going?” Caitlin asked.
Rob shook his head, looking agitated. “I have to stop in at the office. God
forbid anyone else is actually competent.”
Caitlin knew better than to ask questions. “Okay. I’ll go clean up.” She
stood up to leave.
“Hold up,” her father ordered. “I’m not done with you. That was a cute stunt
you pulled last night, sneaking out without telling me where you were going.
And in that outfit.”
“Daddy, you were on the phone,” Caitlin protested. “I wasn’t sneaking out, I
just didn’t want to bother you. I totally forgot about the kitchen. Okay?
Really, I’m sorry. I know you’re really busy. It was inconsiderate of me. I’m
going to clean right now.”
Rob was actually surprised to hear the sincerity in Caitlin’s voice. “I never
want to see that....‘shirt’....again. On any of you,” he added. “Now get in
the kitchen. I want you on your hands and knees picking up that mess.”
Rob followed Caitlin into the kitchen, checked his voice mail, uttered some
profanities, and left the house.
Caitlin had just figured out where the sponges were kept when Lindsay strolled
in. “Hi, Cait,” she said. “Nice outfit. What’s up?”
“Oh, dad was a little upset by the kitchen. He woke me up to clean. Will you
help me?”
Lindsay laughed. “I’m going to bed. Didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Why, were you up with Steve?” Caitlin demanded.
Lindsay stared at her. “Noooo. I slept over at Heather’s.”
“Did Steve stay there, too?” Caitlin persisted.
“Noooo. Steve stayed at Steve’s house,” Lindsay said, looking slightly annoyed
by the interrogation. “Why are you harassing me?”
“Because you never tell me anything!” Caitlin whined.
“There’s nothing to tell,” Lindsay said.
“Of course there is!” Caitlin cried. “You’ve been going out with Steve for
seven months.”
“What Steve and I do is none of your business, Cait,” Lindsay said.
“I’m your twin!” Caitlin exclaimed. “Of course it’s my business.” The phone
rang, but Caitlin was too intrigued by her twin to answer. Eventually the
ringing stopped.
Lindsay shook her head. “I’m going to bed. Good luck cleaning.”
Caitlin put a bagel in the pizza sauce splattered toaster. She was definitely
going to need the energy to clean up this mess.
Anna walked into the kitchen and turned her nose up in disgust. “You still
haven’t cleaned this? It is so gross in here. Dad’s really mad at you.”
“Thanks,” Caitlin said sarcastically. “Are you always so chipper this early?”
Anna shot her a dirty look. “Aimee’s on the phone for you.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Caitlin asked. “I’m going to take it in my room.” She
wanted to talk to Aimee and she didn’t really think Anna should be overhearing
the details of her night. Not for a couple years anyway.
Caitlin ran up to her bedroom and picked up the phone. “Hang up,” she said into
the receiver. “Aime?” There was a giggle. “Anna, hang up!” Caitlin ordered.
“Slut,” came the response. Then there was a click.
Caitlin immediately started filling Aimee in on the rest of her evening.
Lindsay stood outside the closed bedroom door realizing that she was not going
to be getting much sleep with Caitlin jabbering away. She decided to jump in
the shower.
Caitlin was still talking an hour later when Rob came home. He walked into the
kitchen and his jaw clenched. Not only was the kitchen still in total chaos,
but the air reeked of smoke and charcoaled bagels. Rob instantly figured out
the source. Two smoldered pieces of bread were sticking out of the pizza sauce
covered toaster. Caitlin had apparently forgotten about the bagel she was
toasting.
Rob’s fists tightened and he stormed up the stairs to Caitlin’s bedroom. He
flung open the door to Caitlin’s bedroom and busted inside, causing his startled
daughter to nearly drop the phone. Rob’s eyes clearly revealed his intentions.
He grabbed the phone from Caitlin and brought it to his mouth. “Caitlin can’t
talk right now,” he said, then slammed the receiver down.
“Dad,” Caitlin pleaded, her voice shaking. “I’m sorry....the phone rang...I - ”
“Save it,” Rob snapped. “I have completely had it with you.” He started to
remove the belt from his pants.
Caitlin’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh no Daddy. Really, I’m sorry....please.”
Rob grabbed her wrist. “You’ll see what ‘now’ means in this house. Maybe
you’ll remember next time.”
“No, dad, I’m too old for this. Please don’t. I’ll be grounded instead,” Caitlin
begged, beginning to feel desperate.
Rob’s patience was gone. “Oh you’ll be grounded alright,” Rob said. “But don’t
worry sweetheart. I don’t think you’ll be up to going out anyway.” He swung
his belt against his hand. “Lean over the bed.”
Caitlin’s eyes were flooded with tears. “Nooo....I’m sorry. Please. I’ll do it
right now, I promise.”
Rob ignored her. “I should have taken my belt off this morning.” He was so
angry right now. “I cannot fucking believe you did not even START cleaning up.
I should have used this on you when I first saw the mess last night.”
Caitlin was shaking. “I didn’t think, please, daddy.....”
Rob gestured to the bed. “Lean over.”
Caitlin’s lip quivered, tears slipping down her cheeks. She didn’t move.
“Don’t test my patience, young lady. You had your second chance. Let’s get
this over with because I want that kitchen spotless.”
Crying softly, Caitlin slowly leaned over the bed and positioned herself.
“No, I want to see your bare ass,” Rob ordered.
“Dad!” Caitlin cried. She didn’t think that her actions qualified for a
spanking on her bare bottom. “It’s a few dishes in the sink!”
Wrong thing to say. Rob brought that belt down on her bottom so hard. Caitlin
screamed out in obvious pain, her hands flying to her backside.
“It’s more than a few dishes, Caitlin. And it’s your blatant disregard for
anything that I told you to do. Get those pants down or I am going to get you
on your hands and knees right in the kitchen and do this in front of your
sisters.”
Caitlin knew from the expression on his face that he would not hesitate to do
just that. Glowering, she pushed down her pants and the little Ralph Lauren
thong.
Rob did not comment, just raised that awful belt and brought it down on her bare
skin. Caitlin howled. CRACK CRACK CRACK. The sounds of the spanking echoed
through the house.
CRACK CRACK. Caitlin reached her arms back and tried to cover her bottom.
Rob grabbed her hands and pinned them behind her back. “When I tell you to do
something, you do it,” he said, bringing the belt down hard across her cheeks.
CRACK CRACK CRACK.
The burning pain was more than Caitlin could take. “Stttoooppppp!” she begged,
crying hysterically. “I’m sorrrrrry. Ahhhh, it hurts! Stopppp! I’ll clean,
I’ll clean!”
Rob ignored her and concentrated on Caitlin’s backside. He focused on the tops
of her legs - right where she would sit down. CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK.
There was no mistaking the sound of leather smacking against bare skin. Natalie
winced as she listened to her sister’s screams, howls, and apologies.
Rob placed the final strokes on Caitlin’s thighs. CRACK CRACK “Maybe next time
you’ll CRACK remember to CRACK CRACK do what you’re told,” he snapped. CRACK
CRACK CRACK.
Caitlin was bawling. Rob put his belt down. “Get up,” he ordered.
Caitlin did not move.
Rob took his hand and brought it down hard on his daughter’s flaming red
backside. SLAAPP!
“I said, get your ass up.”
Shaking with sobs, Caitlin picked herself off the bed. Rob pointed to the door.
I want you down in that kitchen right now. If you don’t have it spotless in one
hour, I am going to put you over the kitchen table, mess or not, and do this
over again. Do you understand?”
Her face streaked with tears, Caitlin nodded.
SLAAAPPP! Rob’s hand exploded across her bottom again. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Yes, I understand,” Caitlin sobbed through her tears. She pulled up her pants,
her bottom stinging furiously.
Rob pushed her toward the door. Caitlin scrambled down the stairs, anxious to
get started and avoid any further punishment.
Natalie guessed that the spanking was over and emerged from her room.
Rob spun around.
Natalie looked uncomfortable. “Do you want me to help her, dad?” she asked.
Rob stared at her. “I think you helped her enough.”
Natalie was confused. “What?!” she exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s a nice shirt your sister has on.”
Caitlin had such a big fucking mouth. “It’s not even mine,” Natalie said. “She
found it in my closet. It doesn’t even fit me.”
“It doesn’t seem to fit Caitlin, either,” Rob commented. “I don’t give a damn
whose shirt it is, I don’t want it in my house unless it’s a dust rag. And if
it doesn’t get returned to its owner, that’s exactly what it will be.”
“Okay,” Natalie said, meeting her father’s eye and nodding. She got the
message.
And Caitlin despite her flaming sore bottom managed to get the kitchen clean.
|
|
| The Exhibition
By Francine
francines_travels@dicklover.worldonline.co.uk
The Exhibition
CHAPTER 1
How it Happened
Nancy Johnson was no stranger to travel; as a free-lance writer and
photographer, she had spent much of her life abroad, visiting and writing about
innumerable locations about the world. At 54, she often went with her husband,
who followed his own pursuits while she engaged in authoring and illustrating
articles she would then plan to offer to those newspapers and magazines who
regularly utilized her literary style. With their children grown, Nancy and
Ralph had accustomed themselves to a life they enjoyed immensely, largely on
the road and often in little-known places.
Her life of travel had conditioned her to be rugged and adaptable, and both of
them had been blessed with good health. Ralph, more relaxed than Nancy,
devoted himself to archaeology and historical interests, occasionally teaching
and writing for professional journals. He was a moderately tall man, graying,
a bit older than Nancy at 57. She, physically strong and active, was a larger
woman, only slightly concerned at her weight of 160, with her short auburn hair
turning grey, something she declined to hide or camouflage. She bore her years
with grace, always as well groomed as the situation allowed.
Nor was she any stranger to trouble. In her travels, she had on occasion run
afoul of the law, and had learned patience and tolerance in dealing with the
world's bureaucracies. So far she had never run into any really serious legal
problems, and while she had in her younger years spent a night or two locked up
for minor offenses, her legal problems had always been solvable.
But now she faced a different situation. Ralph and Nancy had come to this
Caribbean Island nation, as much as tourists as journalists. In her zeal to
portray life as it was, Nancy had engaged in photographing some of the poorer
areas, including, she found out later, some religious rites and quasi-legal
drug trafficking activities which the government found embarrassing. In fact,
local law prohibited photography in some of these areas, and the government was
sensitive to being portrayed as tolerating what some would consider immoral,
backward, or indecent. She had been caught by the local police, who had
followed her while Ralph was elsewhere, and she soon found herself apprehended.
At this point it was determined that she lacked the proper visa for
journalistic work, and her she had neglected to obtain a required permit for
her camera and register with the government's office of foreign affairs as a
foreign writer.
Realizing she was in a bit of difficulty, she summoned her husband to the
police station. After the situation was explained to them, the police officer
in charge, Sgt. Melona, told them, very politely, of their options.
"You must understand that I do not make the laws, but these are our laws and we
are charged to administer them. Mrs. Johnson, you are charged with at least
five violations of immigration laws and civil codes. I realize that you may
not have intended any harm, and that you are foreigners; but I must hold you
accountable under our laws. You will be given a hearing before the police
magistrate in a day or two. I advise you to obtain a local lawyer to represent
you. I could hold you until the hearing; but I do not feel that you are a
threat to the community, and if you agree to report for the hearing I am
prepared to release you in your husband's custody if you will post a small
bond, leave your passports with me, and agree not to attempt to flee the
island."
"Mr. Melona, I understand your position, and your offer is quite generous, and
we will accept it", Ralph replied. Fortunately, he had the means to post the
modest bond, and they left to go back to their hotel.
That evening, they consulted with George Hamran, the attorney they had now
engaged to represent Nancy at her hearing.
"Mr. Hamran," Nancy asked him, "is this really a serious set of charges? Of
course, I know what I did, but I really did not know of all these legal
entanglements. I've been in places before where I had failed to get a permit
or something, and usually we straightened it out with a small fine, or a fee,
or sometimes even a bit under the table for some official. Besides, they took
my camera and all my notes, so what can they do to me? Deport me?"
"Don't try that here" George Hamran responded. "There has recently been quite
a scandal on corruption and even the suggestion of a bribe will get you in more
trouble. Since they have your photos and notes, and you were caught in the act
of illegal photography, and since you obviously do not possess the required
authorizations, there is little defense. I can try to argue that your
intentions were not malicious, but don't be hopeful. This government wants to
be seen as operating strictly by the law, and they don't want to encourage
other foreigners to bypass the rules. You are almost certainly going to be
convicted, but I will try to get as light a sentence as possible."
"What will that be?", Ralph anxiously inquired. George went on, "The charges
will likely call for a jail sentence of about six months to a year; but I think
it is likely that you will be given something less, in your circumstances.
Probably four to six months, after which you will be escorted to the airport
and required to leave. "
"Four to six months?" Nancy was outraged. "Four to six months out of my life
on this forsaken place? Surely there must be an alternative. Can we not
arrange a fine?"
"A fine, alone, is not likely", George went on. "Prison time is what is
expected. And the prison here is not as bad as it could be. You will not be
mistreated, because the government is sensitive to human rights issues. Your
husband can visit regularly, and...."
"Four to six months! And maybe more! Give me some other option - anything!"
Nancy was clearly upset over the possibility.
"If you were a man," George went on, "there would be an alternative. You could
ask for corporal punishment instead, which means flogging. It is humiliating
and painful, but it is over quickly. Men can ask for this in lieu of short
prison sentences. Flogging used to be imposed regularly, but now it is done
only when the prisoner consents to it, to avoid jail time. Many men do choose
it, instead of going to jail. But the law absolutely prohibits the flogging of
women - the government simply does not want the image that might present."
"Then there is no way a woman can request corporal punishment?"
"I can't really say there is no way. But I don't advise you to ask for it. You
will be better off in the long run with the jail time." George obviously
wanted to cut this off. Nancy, however, continued, "if there is any way a
woman can get corporal punishment instead of jail time, I want to know. Tell
me my options!"
"Well, you asked for it," George continued. "But I strongly advise against it.
There is a corporal punishment option for women. It is carried out
periodically, only when women request it, and very few do. Women cannot be
flogged, beaten, or subjected to physical abuse. The women who choose this
option are exhibited in a public place used for the purpose, where they must
stand in shackles for several hours at a time, while they are subjected to
other physical discomforts which can be most unpleasant. However, they cannot
be subjected to flogging or any invasive treatment, and they cannot be raped or
sodomized, nor can they be cut or permanently injured. The sentence may require
them to endure this on several successive days, if it is in lieu of months of
jail time. It can be..."
"Get it for me!" Nancy demanded.
George tried his best to dissuade Nancy, but it wasn't working. The following
day, he arranged a meeting at the police magistrate's building, where the
government prosecutor considered Nancy's request. "Since she is agreeing to
this, I will ask the magistrate to allow the sentence to be carried out
promptly. We will ask that she be given three successive days of exhibition,
to be followed by deportation. Day after tomorrow, she will report to the
police sergeant at the jail, at ten in the morning. Agreed?" "Agreed", George
responded.
Later that day, Nancy signed the required papers. She found that she also
needed a doctor's certificate that she was able to endure the punishment
prescribed, and a local doctor checked her out and certified her "A necessary
precaution" George told her, "they don't want to find out that you have a weak
heart or some other problem that might make you collapse on their hands." She
had also been told that when she reported she must not be wearing any jewelry,
watch, or anything of value, She should not be wearing any cosmetics, perfume,
or even deodorant, and her clothing should be simple and casual.
Nancy concerned herself what she would have to go through - even though it
would be better than months in jail, she expected it to be rough. But standing
in shackles for a few hours? She felt she could handle that, even at her age.
And she couldn't be beaten! George gave her one final warning, before he and
Ralph delivered her to the police station on the appointed day, "Remember, you
asked for this - to avoid jail time. If you give them a hard time, or refuse
to cooperate, they can revoke the agreement and put you in jail for the
maximum the law allows."
CHAPTER 2
The First Day
The two men left her at the office of the duty sergeant, as requested. After
the preliminary paperwork and identification procedure, Nancy was introduced to
another uniformed police officer. "Clarence", said the sergeant, "this is Mrs.
Johnson, who is to be placed on exhibition today and for two more days. Mrs.
Johnson, Clarence will see to your preparation, after which you will need to
make a brief appearance before the magistrate next door, and you will then be
taken to the exhibition dock. You are not alone; there is one other female
prisoner, a local woman, considerably younger than yourself, who will be
exhibited also. Clarence, she is in your care". He motioned to the door.
Clarence escorted Nancy down a hallway. He seemed polite and businesslike.
"Mrs. Johnson, you understand I must do what the law requires and what you have
agreed to. I expect that it will be quite unpleasant for you, but please do
not take it personally. I will try to make it no more difficult for you than it
has to be". He took her into a well lit room with a table, two chairs, and a
clothes tree with some coat hangars. On the table was a large pitcher filled
with water, in which several ice cubes floated, a plastic bag, and a shoe box.
"Mrs. Johnson, my immediate task is to prepare you for your exhibition today. I
will also be in charge of the punishment as it takes place. You will be
outside for quite a while, and it will be hot. I hope you will cooperate and I
will try not to be harsh with you. OK?"
"OK, Clarence. I am prepared to do what is required. Tell me what I am to
do."
"First, this pitcher of water is for you. While we do the other preparations,
you must drink it - I will pour you a glass at a time. Next, please remove
your shoes, and socks if you are wearing any, and put them in this box. I trust
you are not wearing any jewelry, rings, or watch, as you were told not to have
such things. " "Right - no jewelry", Nancy replied as she sat down on the
nearest chair. She gulped the water, surprised that it really did have a good
taste, as she began to remove her shoes, which she placed in the box as
ordered. Clarence refilled the glass of water. "Do I have drink it all? "
Nancy asked, noting the rather large pitcher. "Yes", was the answer, "you are
to fill your stomach with as much as you can hold - but drink it slowly, as we
don't want to make you sick".
Clarence waited while Nancy downed another two glasses of the water. She
looked at him, as though to ask what was next. "Now", Clarence instructed, "I
must ask you - I see you are wearing a blouse and skirt; I assume you are also
wearing underwear. Is that so?"
"Yes.." Nancy was a bit nervous at this rather personal question "I have on a
bra and underpants, but I .. I'm not wearing a slip". "Good", Clarence
replied. "Please hang your blouse and skirt on the hangars. They will be kept
for you, along with your shoes and other things, until you are released."
Clarence sat across the table from her, while awaiting her compliance.
Meanwhile, he poured her another glass of water.
To be sure, it had occurred to Nancy that she might be required to shed some of
her clothing, and she suspected that in the exhibition she might have to wear
some sort of prison attire. But she had not expected to have to strip down in
front of a male police officer. However, she knew the consequences of
non-cooperation. She carefully slipped off her blouse, revealing a white bra,
and hung it up. Clarence kept his eyes on her, to her embarrassment. After
all, she thought, I am not some pretty young chick; I am, in fact, a
grandmother; not a real eyeful to anyone. Her body was lightly tanned from
much time in the outdoors, but her shoulders bore signs of white lines from
the straps of the tops she often wore. She realized her breasts were much in
evidence, but she was not overly endowed. She hoped she wouldn't have to take
the bra off, because she knew she drooped a bit, her breasts showing a bit of
her fifty plus years.
She slipped off the skirt, revealing white cotton panties. Her legs had a few
imperfections, she knew, but there was no way to hide them. She wished her
stomach was a bit flatter, but after all, she was just a bit overweight, and
she supposed it could be in worse places. As she hung up the skirt, she noted
the pitcher still had water in it. She quickly downed the glass pushed to her,
and commented "My stomach's getting full - do I have to drink more?".
Clarence answered by refilling the glass one more time, which almost emptied
the pitcher, and gave it to her. "I think this will be enough, for now. You
were told to expect some discomfort, weren't you?" "I was", said Nancy,
trying to get down the last glass. She felt really bloated, with a whole
pitcher of water inside her, and she felt terribly exposed, standing in front
of a police officer with nothing on but a bra and cotton panties. "Are you
ready?" he asked her. "Ready for what", she inquired.
"For your appearance before the magistrate", Clarence informed her. "You are
mostly prepared - what's left we can do after your appearance. He has to see
you and approve your preparation and you must give him your consent to
proceed." "Where will this occur?", she inquired, mindful of her undressed
state and seeing no evidence of a prison uniform or other attire in the room.
"Follow me", said Clarence, opening the door, "the magistrate is in the
courtroom just down the hall. We'll go now, and this should be over in a few
minutes."
Nancy responded with a horrified look and hesitation. He was asking her to
follow him down a hall in a public police station, to a public courtroom, when
she was barefooted and attired only in two skimpy pieces of underwear. A
fiftyish matron was expected to walk around like this?
"Like this?" Nancy exploded in shock. "I have hardly any clothes on - surely
you don't expect.." Clarence politely interrupted, " I told you I would try to
make this as easy as possible, and I am. But if you don't cooperate, you can
get your jail sentence, and get it now. The magistrate knows what your
preparation entails, so please come!"
Meekly, Nancy followed him down the hall, drawing the eyes of the many people
she passed, She tried to cover herself, particularly in front, by placing her
hands over her chest, but it did little good. At one point Clarence stopped
her, "I want to give you one small courtesy that you may appreciate later. We
are passing the ladies toilet - I am going to give you an opportunity to use it
before we proceed. Do you want to?" Nancy hesitated, then nodded. Suddenly
she thought of the physical consequences of that stomach full of water she was
carrying.
She made use of the bathroom facility, while Clarence waited for her in the
hall. Then he escorted her directly into the courtroom, where about fifty
people were gathering, obviously pursuing some type of legal debate. At her
entrance, the voices abruptly stopped as all eyes fell upon this woman walking
into the crowded courtroom in her underwear.
The magistrate immediately took notice. "I see we have the other female
prisoner who is to be exhibited today. Let's dispose of this matter, and then
we can return to the other business. Clarence, this is Mrs. Nancy Johnson?"
"Yes, indeed she is" replied Clarence. The magistrate looked directly at
Nancy, now a pathetic figure, almost in tears in her embarrassment, standing
before him barefooted and in two skimpy undergarments. "Mrs. Johnson, you have
requested corporal punishment by submitting to the ordeal of exhibition and
discomfort for three days, in lieu of a prison sentence. Do you consent to
proceed? This is your last chance to change your mind."
"No, your honor", responded Nancy, then quickly corrected herself, "yes, I mean
I do consent, and will take the exhibition and whatever discomforts go with
it."
"Very well", responded the magistrate. "Clarence, has she been prepared?"
"Yes, sir, as you can see, she is nearly ready for exhibition. I will complete
it when we take her from here."
"Has she been filled with water, to meet the discomfort requirements?:
"Yes, she has." Clarence affirmed.
"How much? "
"About two quarts, sir. I watched her drink it, and observed that her stomach
is a bit distended. I think it is enough."
"I am not sure it is adequate, Clarence; give her another glass as soon as she
can handle it, then take her to the exhibition dock. Go!" The magistrate
dismissed them.
They left the courtroom and Clarence led her back toward the room she had been
in before. As they passed a water fountain, he spoke to her, "if you will take
a good long drink from this fountain, I will consider that as meeting the
order." She looked at him with just a bit of hesitation, then drank deeply
from the fountain. Her stomach felt very bloated indeed as they entered the
little room.
Clarence immediately picked up the plastic bag from the table and told her, "we
must now complete your preparation. I am going to take you and the other
prisoner to the exhibition dock in a van. For the last item, please hand me
your brassiere and your panties, which I will leave in this bag for now."
Incredulous, Nancy stared at him "what am I to wear? Do you expect me to leave
here naked?"
"Yes, indeed", Clarence replied, "that is exactly what you will do. You are
going to be exhibited nude and shackled standing on the dock. And you will
find there will be other discomforts, which you agreed to accept."
Nancy was dumfounded. No way had she expected this. But there was no way
out. Almost in a trance, she unhooked the bra and dropped it off on the table,
followed by her white underpants. Never before had she felt so naked and
vulnerable. She started to put her hands to her breasts, thinking to cover
them, almost as a reflex. Her embarrassment was not such much that they were
bare, but that they were unsupported. She hated to be braless, and was acutely
aware that her breasts sagged quite a bit and would swing around as she moved.
She desperately wished she could somehow hold them still, realizing it was not
possible. As she looked at Clarence, she saw his glance fall to her pubic
area, although he made no comment. She had a thick bush of pubic hair, which
she seldom trimmed because she rarely wore the kind of clothes where stray
hairs would show. Now it was all showing.
Clarence hung up the bag on the clothes rack, then opened the door and led the
now nude woman out into the hall, in the opposite direction from where she had
gone before. After passing stares of the curious, she arrived at an outside
door, which Clarence opened. Outside, a van awaited, and she was ushered into
it.
As she entered the van, she saw her companion-to-be. A younger woman, of the
bronzed skin common to the local population, sat in the van. She was probably
in her late twenties, with dark hair, slender, nice looking but no outstanding
beauty. And she was as naked as Nancy.
The two sat in van, vaguely acknowledging each other, but without any real
conversation. Another policeman joined Clarence, and drove the van through the
streets. Both women sat quietly, covering themselves with their arms as best
they could against the onlookers who constantly sought a view through the
window. They talked only briefly. Nancy learned her name was Veronica, and
this was the first day of her exhibition. She lived locally, had been married
a year earlier, She and her husband needed her income desperately to survive,
and she would lose her job if jailed. She had been given the option of
corporal punishment, and she took it to avoid jail, but she was facing it with
dread.
After about fifteen minutes of driving, they arrived at a compound on the edge
of the town. It was surrounded by a fence with a gate, which the policemen
unlocked and which they drive through, the policemen closing the gate after
them. Nancy noticed a sign beside the gate which read "Exhibition Dock for
Female Convicts", with a piece of paper taped below it reading "exhibitions
today - 2; public admitted after the exhibitions start". A fairly orderly
crowd., mostly men, had begun to assemble outside the compound.
In the center of the compound was a structure about twenty feet long, supported
by several strong wooden posts, and with a roof. The base of the structure was
about six feet wide, and consisted of a platform rising about eight inches from
the surrounding ground. The platform was filled with what appeared to be clean
white sand, and in it several metal posts could be seen with chains attached to
them. Just below the roof, and running the length of the structure, was a flat
board which also had chains attached. The space between this board and the
sand-covered platform was open.
The other woman was taken out first. She was led up to the platform and made to
stand on the sand-covered area. She was asked to raise her arms and they were
then placed in leather cuffs which were then locked to the steel chains affixed
to the board, now behind her head. Her arms were held shackled in a position
that allowed her some freedom of movement, in that her hands were only raised
to shoulder level, so she could turn and twist a bit, but she could not touch
her torso with her hands, nor could they be dropped below shoulder level. Then
her legs were similarly shackled, being held loosely about a foot apart. She
could move them a bit, but could not bring them together. She was thus
shackled facing out from the platform, completely exposed and unable to conceal
any part of her body with her hands.
Next Nancy was led out, and fastened into a similar position, facing the same
direction, such that the two women were side by side, about six feet apart.
Clarence inspected the finished work. He then positioned himself in front of
the two chained women, and addressed them.
"You ladies will now be exhibited, as you are, and we will shortly open the
gates and allow the public in. They are not permitted to touch you, and must
keep away from the dock, but they can look all they want and say anything they
want, as long as it is orderly. A guard will remain to see that nothing
illegal occurs.
"You will find that your discomfort will increase as the day wears on. It is
now just before eleven, and the day will become hotter, and so will you. You
can expect to sweat a lot. You will probably get very tired standing, and
anyone who wants to come can stand and look at your nude bodies. Your family
members may come later and see you, but they cannot help you in any way. You
will be left here for a minimum of three hours today, if you cooperate well.
If you attempt to minimize your discomfort, you will be left longer. While you
are here, you will be given no food, but once an hour an attendant will give
you two glasses of water, which you can drink through a straw. You are required
to drink it, and in this heat you should appreciate it.
"You may be wondering what other discomforts await you. There is one more,
which will not come from anything we do to you, but which will occur naturally.
Both of you have stomachs full of water, and you will be given more each hour.
You need not fear thirst. You will sweat a lot, and you should both be hoping
to sweat as much as you can. You will lose some of the water you drank through
sweat; but what you do not lose that way will gradually move down in your body,
from your stomach to a few inches below, and when enough of it has moved, you
will very much want to get rid of it. After you have been here an hour, and
after you drink your next glasses of water, the attendant will allow you to
relieve yourselves slightly - to the extent of no more than half a pint for
each of you. He will hold a measured container under you, between your legs,
for this purpose, and he will tell you when to stop. This is a process that
attracts a lot of attention, and the crowd likes to!
watch it. This is all the relief you are allowed - other than a half pint an
hour, which is considerably less than the amount you will drink, you must hold
your water. If you let out any water at any other time, or more than is
allowed you- well, look at that clean, dry, white sand on which you are
standing. If you get it wet at all, we will replace it each time it happens,
and add another two hours to your exhibition time. If you completely relieve
yourself without permission, at any time while you standing here, we will add
another day to your punishment so you can try again. So figure it out; hold
your water by our rules and you are here only three hours; leak, and you may be
here as much as twelve- and we can add additional days if necessary. If you do
not cooperate, you can be returned to the magistrate and will get the maximum
jail sentence. Good luck!"
The gate was shortly opened, and the crowd came in. They were mostly male, as
expected, and they were orderly. They approached as closely as they were
allowed to the two nude women. Nancy noticed that her younger companion got
more of the attention - after all, who wants to look at a naked woman over
fifty with sagging breasts and a bulging stomach and vein-lined legs when a
twenty-something with a slender body is available. Nancy noted, however, that
the men who stood in front of her seemed to focus mostly on her thick growth of
pubic hair, a much richer patch than that of the younger woman.
Nancy shifted her weight as she could, and tried to make herself as comfortable
as possible. As time passed, she noted that the bloated feeling in her stomach
seemed to have passed, so at least that was one discomfort ceasing. However,
gradually she became aware of the one of which Clarence had warned them - the
water was indeed moving from her stomach downward. Already she was feeling a
need to relieve her bladder. She did some mental calculation; she had drunk
something over two quarts of water, and she knew her bladder couldn't hold that
much, but hopefully it would be a while before it passed through her and,
anyway it was about ninety degrees and she was sweating, so she would lose some
of the water that way.
A clock was in the compound, in her view, and the two women watched it. The
other woman turned to Nancy and said "Well, forty five minutes are gone - and
gee, I don't know if I can last the next fifteen. I don't see how a woman your
age can do it. I feel like I'm about to burst, and it hurts so-o-o bad. Can
you hold it?" "I'm trying", Nancy replied, "but its mighty uncomfortable!" |
|
| Nancy's Woes by
Shillingsworth
shillingsworth_butler.dept@spankme.worldonline.co.uk
Nancy's Woes
Nancy was obviously getting worse by the minute. She tried to distract her
feelings by watching the crowd around the platform. While mostly male, there
were a few women. Two middle aged women came close to Nancy and looked closely
at her breasts, while from the gestures and bits of conversation she heard, the
women were comparing their own anatomy to hers. A few tried to talk to the
women. Several times Nancy was asked her bra size, usually she ignored the
remarks, but the last time she sarcastically replied, "I don't wear one".
Men, many of them aware of the torture methods being used on the women,
occasionally asked her if she needed to pee. When they were polite, she
sometimes nodded.
Five minutes to one. Nancy felt like she was hiding a watermelon in her
bladder- it felt stretched almost beyond belief. She longed to pull her legs
together, and strained against the shackles. She called on all her abdominal
muscles to help her sphincters restrain themselves. She fidgeted constantly,
moving to try to find some position that offered comfort.
Clarence approached her. "How do you feel?" he inquired. "Miserable" was the
reply, "it hurts so bad - but its what you wanted! I don't know if I can hold
it. I guess you really want me to let go and have to spend an extra day here,
don't you?" "No, Mrs. Johnson, I really have no wish to prolong your
punishment. I really do hope you can get it over in the three days. I'm
hoping you really can hold yourself and avoid the extra time, but I have to
make sure that is very painful for you - that is what corporal punishment is
all about. Now, I'm sorry for your sake, but I need to feel your bladder to
see whether it's distended enough. If it isn't, I can of course cancel your
limited relief and just give you the water instead." He reached down and firmly
pressed on her body just below her navel, then palpated the entire area down to
her line of pubic hair. She winced and squirmed under his touch.
"Mrs. Johnson, I can feel your bladder almost up to your navel, and it's
starting to bulge out just a bit. In this job, I have had to check a number of
women with badly distended bladders, and I would guess that you're holding
close to a quart. Considering the amount of water we gave you, I think it's
fair to allow you your half-pint relief. Your bladder will probably fill by
that much in the next ten minutes, anyway, and it's got a lot more stretching
to do if you're going to get through this without any unauthorized leak. We're
going to try and keep over a quart in you down there, but you're going to do a
lot more filling unless you really start sweating it off. I've never found a
woman who could stretch her bladder to two quarts, and you may have to come
close to that to avoid any penalty time. But I give you credit - you're one
determined lady, and you have good muscle tone for your age."
Nancy took the two glasses of water as quickly as she could swallow their
contents, not that she was thirsty or needed the water, but she desperately
needed even the limited relief to her urinary system that would follow. A
minute or two after she finished the water, the attendant came and carried a
half pint container, which he started to hold under her. A man in the crowd
called to him, "do the other one first! We all want to see the girl pee! Make
this one wait a little longer!" Obviously, the man was known to the attendant,
for he nodded and left Nancy. He attended to the young woman, giving her water
and allowing her the use of the urine container while Nancy waited in something
approaching agony. To be that close to relief, and to have it snatched away,
even for a few minutes, was adding to the torture.
When he got back to nancy, he stopped for a moment and spoke to the man in the
crowd in a low voice, though Nancy could just overhear it. "Want me to tease
her a little? Watch this!" the attendant said.
He placed the container under Nancy, then said "OK, start it up. You look like
you've got plenty of pee in you!" Nancy released her bladder, and after just a
few drops, the attendant told her "Look, lady, you're so full it comes out too
fast. You can't exceed the half pint, and I have to catch it all. So just let
out a little at a time, then stop it; if you do it in spurts I'll tell you
when you're at the full mark." Nancy tried to comply, but each time she had
to stop her flow, the pain surged within her. Somehow she managed to get
through it, and released her half pint in a series of short spurts. In her
mind, she was cursing the experience, conscious that she was being subjected
to repeated efforts to cause her more torment.
Clarence was right. Twenty minutes after being allowed her relief, the pain
was worse than ever. She was also more tired. Her arms ached from their
extended positions, partly because she sometimes shifted her weight to them to
ease the strain on her legs, uncomfortably spread. It was hotter than ever,
and the sweat poured down her body (a blessing, she thought; if she could just
get rid of enough water this way). She could feel the sweat running down
between her hips and over her breasts. Her feet were tired because in the
more spread position, she was less able to shift her weight and move them.
Ralph, watching in crowd, suddenly was distracted by the arrival of a uniformed
officer, carrying a camera. He motioned for the crowd to allow him space close
to the platform, and from close in he proceeded to begin taking pictures.
Ralph was horrified at the thought of his wife finding her picture in some
newspaper, showing her in her present state. He looked to the guard standing
nearby. "I thought photography was prohibited here? What's he doing?" The
guard responded quietly, "He's the official police photographer. He has to
make pictures of each convict, both front and back and from the side. The
pictures are not made public, but are kept in the police files to show how the
convict appeared. We try to get them at their worst. The pictures are used
only if there is a complaint or official investigation later. No one else can
get them, not even the convicts themselves. If anyone else shows up with a
camera it is confiscated and the film destroyed. We do not all!
ow this place to be used to make illicit photographs."
The photographer stood in front of Nancy, after photographing Veronica. He
took several photos of her, full front, squirming and all; then also
photographed her in profile, and then her backside. She saw him, worried as
was Ralph, over who might see them.
But her worst torment continued to be her bladder. What genius, she thought,
conceived of this torture as an alternative to flogging for women! Maybe
flogging would be easier, because at least it would be over quickly. What she
had to endure was going on for hours. Moreover, those watching couldn't tell
the depths of her pain, because there was no whip, no blood, no lash marks, no
piercing screams from sudden strokes. The pain she had to suffer was internal,
and the onlookers could only perceive it from her facial expressions, the
writhing movements of her body, and her vocal complaints. All they could see,
and some of them looked careful to detect it, was the bulge of her abdomen,
harder to see from the front, but detectable by those who viewed her in
profile. Nancy, of course, couldn't see this subtle symptom of her condition,
but she was reminded of it when two of her viewers, standing at the end of the
platform, commented on it. "Look, now her tummy's sticking ou!
t farther than her hair", said one. "And she's got a lot of hair down there.
But her stomach's kinda fat, too. Maybe that's all you're seeing. " "No.
Look carefully. Her stomach's got a bit of flab, but it's up higher, behind
her belly button. The bulge you see now is bigger than it was an hour ago,
when it didn't stick out as far as the hair below it. Now its pushed out
beyond the black hairs. That's her bladder - it's really full of pee! They
must really give these gals a lot to drink before they string them up!" "I
heard this one say she had to drink almost a gallon! Boy, I bet she'd like to
let it out. But they give them an awful penalty if they pee." "That's the
real punishment here, besides being strung up with nothing on! They have to
hold their pee until it hurts them mighty bad."
Nancy could hear the conversation, and the two continued to discuss her
anatomy. After a few minutes, they came around to stand in front of her.
Nancy was fidgeting rapidly, shifting her weight around and squirming. Her
abdominal muscles twitched in her continual efforts to restrain her sphincters.
She turned her face rapidly, grimacing with pain. But she was able to look at
the men, and one of them spoke to her. "Hey, lady, we can see your misery, but
what's the real pain you're feeling. Are they stretching your arms too much?
Are you legs sore? You itch? What's really bothering you the most?" Nancy was
really in no mood to satisfy their curiosity, but neither was she prepared to
argue. She thought they at least sounded sympathetic. "I need to pee! I need
to pee so goshawful bad!" One turned to the other and remarked, "See, I told
that was her bladder that's bulging! I wonder how much longer she can hold it?
Hey, lady - have they got you plugged up with somet!
hing, or are you just holding it?" "I'm not plugged - maybe it would be
easier if I was - I have to hold it!"
Ralph appeared again and called to his tortured wife, "Nancy, I hate to see
this, but you're doing great. How are you feeling, or should I ask?" "Ralph,
it's awful -awful. My muscles are about to give out, and Ralph, I don't want
to leak; I don't want to - but this - this is real torture. Someone said I'm
bulging out because - because - Ralph, go around to my side and tell me if
I'm really sticking out where my bladder is - they said it's sticking out
farther than my hair- please look! I must look all distorted!"
Ralph moved to view his wife in profile. It was really hard to see her pelvic
area clearly in profile, because she was squirming so much. "Nancy - you've
got a bulge all right, you look all swollen up from your hairline up to your
navel. Nancy - I hope you don't damage yourself trying to last through this.
Maybe it would be better for you to accept some more time..."
Nancy almost screamed "No - No - I've got to hold..." But she was writhing in
agony. As her body squirmed and turned, her dangling breasts bounced around
rapidly, putting on quite a show for the watchers. She was trying to jump up
and down in her torment, and this made her breasts move even more wildly.
Three o'clock. Clarence came around for his regular check. He palpated the
other woman first, then motioned to the attendant to bring her water and relief
container. Then he came to Nancy. He looked at her, squirming and writhing in
obviously agony, with her abdominal area now bulging noticeably, pain written
all over her face. But she hadn't peed a drop. He used both hands to feel
her swollen abdomen, careful to feel down to the hairline but not below. He
spoke to her, "Mrs. Johnson, I can't completely check you unless I feel in the
area of your pubic hair, because you have expanded so much. I won't touch your
private parts, but I do need to feel a bit lower - please try to hold still."
He slid his hand briefly across the upper part of her pubic hair.
"Mrs. Johnson, you're doing fine. I wouldn't have expected you to have either
the muscle control or the pain tolerance to hold your bladder this full - and
it is extremely full. I would guess that you are probably holding well over a
quart, which will meet our requirements. I don't think I have ever encountered
a woman your age with this amount of bladder control. Of course you are
entitled to your half pint of relief, once you drink your two glasses. If you
can make it another hour, and when we empty you get get over a quart, we won't
have to increase your water dosage for tomorrow." He motioned to the attendant,
and audibly instructed him, "Don't tease her this time. Let her do it all at
once. " Nancy was grateful. She sucked on the straws and got the water
inside her as quickly as possible, even though she could not hold herself still
in the process. Two or three times she had to let go of the straw to move and
groan. Finally, he held the container under her!
and told her to "let some out". She complied, but for just a few seconds.
At his command she forced her sphincters to stop the flow, and he held up for
her inspection the half-pint container, full of almost clear pee. Nancy was
surprised at the color, and remarked, painfully, "that came from me?" "
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