Thursday, August 11, 2022

Chapter 233 - part (2) of (4)

 Last Interlude

 

Welcme   t Amaznia  (passprts nt required)

Business had been brisk, since the four wooden triangular trestles, and six really rough cord-covered whipping posts were already occupied, with various villains pegged out on the ground. “Well done, girls,” said a further fetching floozy with a severe style of short black hair, standing sternly with her hands held on hips. She also wore a blue overcoat, and which made her almost regal. Was she even a St Sticks scholar? He couldn’t honestly remember having seen her around over the years. “We should submit ourselves to Servalan….” said Shagger, matching action with words, “….the supreme Commander of the Terran Federation.” He’d not a clue what he was on about, however he followed suit.

 A second later, they were both in the Position For Penance, one well-worthy of worship. “You may both lick my boots….one each, Dell boys….” she said, with the usual euphemism. Apparently it went back to the days of Only Fools and Horses, some sort of 1980’s sitcom, “….since it seems we’ve snared several shysters who thought they’d try their luck with the Shortest Route.” Exactly as he’d feared….so it was all sodding Shagger’s fault. Even so, he licked lovingly, as he’d learned the hard way during his days in Ms Deborah Maddon’s Reformatory. Initially he’d refused outright, however the Guards had….well, simply scourged him into shape. It had been a most impressive display of raw power….as indeed he’d felt afterwards.

 “Excellent,” she said, “accommodation’s short, but we’ve still the Open Goal. Shackle them, and string’em up by their scrotums, since they’ll make good goalkeepers.” Five pairs of helping hands fell on them, and they were escorted across to where the large white wooden frame waited. It was rather reminiscent of football, but devoid of any netting. “Legs apart,” said Ultra Violet, “and arms UP.” They obeyed instantly. “Ohh….” they gasped as their wrists were shackled, and ankles ironed, “…..AYEEEEE,” they shouted as their scrotums were stretched soundly by the elasticised cords, which were tied to the top.

 “It’s high time you met our martinet, Shanks,” said the so-called Servalan, “you can take two torso taps from Vi and Jane as retribution, however it’s a beaten balls from Beth, Mo, Tina and me for the fitting fanny finale.” He gritted his teeth, as several of them smiled into his eyes….THWACKK “…..AHHH….” THWACKK “….AHHH,” he gasped, as Hissy Fits giggled….THWACKK “….AHHH….” THWACKK “….AHHH,” he repeated, as they changed places. Now it would be the really painful part of the proceedings….THWAPP “….UGHHH,” he moaned as his sensitive scrotum was struck. “OMG….it makes me so wet when I beat a bare balls,” said Ballantyne Beta….THWAPP “….UGHHH,” he gasped….THWAPP “….UGHHH,” he repeated,

 “I don’t see why I can’t give him fond fellatio, Ma’am,” muttered someone from behind him. “Stop moaning, Mona,” hissed Hissy Fits, “it’s because we’re disciplinary Dommes….even if it IS eight inches of erotic enjoyment.” Then the seven strands of sheer suffering were passed to Servalan, who strutted behind him….THWACKK “….OWW….” THWACKK “….OWW….thank you, MA’AM,” he gasped, “I’m so sorry for all my sins….” he had an idea, “….would you wish me to attend The Amazns on Monday evening as a voluntary victim? I’m already down to be dealt with by my own dorm, but I’m sure we might manage a successive split slot.” Hopefully, this should suffice? “An excellent idea, Shanks,” said Servalan, “we’ll look forward to it….a lot.”

 Then he saw a new figure enter the clearing….lumme, it was the local law. “Ello….’ello….’ello….” said the Policeman, with a stilted style which rather reminded him of the mythical PC Plod, “….wot’s hall diss den….?” what did he think, for heavens’ sakes….a teddy bears’ picnic? “….Hi woz parked hat duh lay-by honn duh main public ’ighway….” it dropped every initial H, but added them back where they weren’t wanted, “….Hand Hi ’eard wot happeared to be Han Haltercation, wiv several shouts. Wot hexactly his goin’ honn?” There was a surly silence. “Nothing at all, Sir,” said Servalan, sweetly, “Nuffin’ usually means somfin’ his hup,” he said sourly, “hespecially hin view hov deez two persons publicly exposin’ demselves, wiv pulsin’ perpendicular penises….” Oops….but the exposure definitely DID feel good, “….har you quite sure habaht dat last statement?”

 She shrugged. “We were helping them stimulate their submissive sides, Sir,” she muttered. “Has hopposed to duh dicks,” he said, “hennnyways, Hi shall ’ave to take dem darn to duh station….” Oo..er, “….incarcerated inside a prison cell….” muttered sodding Shagger, most unhelpfully. But why was he half-hoping it would happen? “….do you fink dave bin resistin’ harrest….?” there were six neat nods, “….jus’ wot Hi fought, and Hi ’ave duh Cattle Prod ’ere for such studs….” OMG, “….hit ’as six settins, so let’s start wiv Serious.” ZZZZZZ “….UHHH,” moaned Shagger, sagging on the shackles. Then it was his turn for the tool treatment….ZZZZZZ “….UHHH,” he added as it stimulated his shaft.

 “Diss time we’ll make it a Severe shock….to duh scrotums,” he mused, walking behind them….ZZZZZZ “….URGHHH,” gasped Shagger….ZZZZZZ “….URGHHH,” he repeated, since this setting stung much more, “…..Hi shall get to duh bottom hov hall diss….” very witty, “….heeven hiff hit’s hoenly diss particularly pert hand punishable posterihah….” so even the Police appreciated his hiney. He reappeared, and uncorked a small phial, “….drink diss, since hit will relax you,” he ordered, placing it against his lips. He duly did so, as Shagger suffered a second such. Almost at once, he began to feel faint. Hang on, hadn’t this happened when he’d succumbed to his succubus? His legs were leaden, and The Amazns suddenly seemed many miles away. Then there was no more.

 Æons later he awoke, lying on his back. Blearily he opened his eyes, and saw he was in a gleaming white cell. Memories returned about how he’d wanted this….so beware of what you wish for? It seemed spartan, with a bed of straw, and only a pillow for creature comfort. Then he read a worrying wall notice, clearly positioned for easy reading upon awakening.

 

prisoner12339

There is no possibility of parole.

Good behaviour is rewarded by a short sojourn

 with Sadistic Screws….plus The Cattle Prod.

Pretty prisoners are perpetually poked.

Poor performance produces public punishment.

Intimate interrogations are conducted by electric (tens) torture.

All prisoners are whipped well once a week.

Have a nice day.

 

OMG….it was his school roll number, so he’d been incarcerated exactly as sodding Shagger had said. Even so, he couldn’t recall having had any trial, or been sentenced? But where was he….and how much time had elapsed? “Good morning, Prisoner 12339….” said a disembodied voice from nowhere special, “….welcome to Stern Hall….” so one mystery solved, “….now you are back with us, I shall send in some Sadistic Screws to sort you out.” The avoidance of all apostrophes must mean this was Wodin Thring speaking, the previous Headmaster at St Sticks? He’d retired at the close of Year LXXXIII, when he’d been one of the Wimps in dorm 1W. He attempted to move his limbs, but saw he was still starkers, shackled and ironed.

 Then he heard the cell door being unlocked. It opened, and two figures emerged, both carrying truncheons. Each wore long black heavy-duty trousers, with white shirt, and black tie, plus a pair of stout shiny shoes and matching matt-black jacket. Then more memory returned, since one of them was the country Copper….whilst the second was sodding Shagger. “What the FUCK….” he started to say….SLAPPP “….AHHH,” he gasped at the application of a sound slap. “Say Sir,” said his prefect peer, “when you’re speaking to a Superior. May I introduce you to Officer Thor Thring, who is a Warder with me at this establishment.”

 Presumably he must be The Professor’s son? SLAPPP “….AHHH,” he repeated. “The second such was for the Vulgarity, prisoner 12339,” Officer Thring kindly confirmed, reverting to ordinary English, “anyway, the last time Officer Shagton and I were on duty together, we took down a haughty harridan. She harboured a hidden hankering to be humbled. It was a truncheon taken to her antipodean twat, with our tools following. But being a bad boy, we could both beat you, and then bugger you about a bit….” Oops, “….or you could try a time of testicle torments in the Knackering Machine….?” they both sniggered, “….say 10pm GMT….” surely not? “….what’s your preference?”

 He shivered, even as his shaft strained slightly. “I’m not a gay guy, good Sirs,” he said, “so I’ll go for the gonads, with mechanical knackering,” he said in strangled tones. “All right, prisoner 12339,” said Shagger, as he released his shackles, “you may stand. If you’re still too weak to walk, Officer Thring will sling you over his shoulder.” So another huge helping of humiliation? Experimentally, he swung himself off the bed, and attempted to arise. Alas, his legs simply buckled beneath him. “Ohh,” he gasped, as he was promptly picked up, and instantly inverted. They left the cell, with Shagger following, and continued along a corridor.

 A couple of minutes later, they reached a large dungeon. Even in his inversion, he could see it was the stuff of nightmares….or filthy fantasies. “Ohh,” he repeated as he was set down, standing next to a machine, and a man with brilliant white hair. “Good morning again, prisoner 12339,” he said, “Professor Wodin Tiberius Thring at your service….” the same sentiments he’d have expected from the Gestapo Guy….had he ever met him. Even so, he rather reminded him of Charles Ringer, “….I overheard how you were wishing to trial my patent electromechanical Knackering Machine, so I have everything ready….” presumably the cell had been covered with microphones, and possibly cameras, too? “….here is some naccatape, enabling the gonads to be gathered for grief ….” he accepted and applied it, “….you can keep it, since Officer Shagton tells me you will need it for this afternoon….” yes….the Naccarim game, “….kindly insert your scrotum as indicated. We will make it Grade 1, with four applications of each torment, since this is your first foray. This is with the exception of the tenth, which by its very nature cannot be repeated.”

 He took two steps forward, and slipped it through the gaping mouth of a large, painted black skull on the side. Then he bent over it, with his arms straight down, and a feeling of total terror. The Professor pulled the handle labelled Balls Lock, and he felt metal spiral plates move forward. He tugged at his testicles, but they were now at the mercy of the machine. “Ohh….SIR,” he whispered as The Professor patronizingly patted his posterior. “Enjoy, prisoner 12339,” he said, as he shackled his wrists and ironed his ankles. Then he pressed a Start Session button, and large television monitors in front of him flashed into life. On one screen he could see his face of fear, whereas on the second he could see his stretched scrotum inside. However he alone would be able to sample the sensations. Then he read the embossed notice on the back.

 Genital Mechanical Torments

A total of ten Punishment Methods (all at random, except for fitting finale)

Mechanized multi-stranded martinet * Crotch crop * Crotch crushers (vertical/horizontal)

 Crush brush * Strafing spikes * Boxing glove *

Scrotum squeezer (Mechanical hand) * Rollerballs stretchers * Mystery surprise

 So it was actually Ten:PM:GMT, and nothing to do with time….very fucking funny. “AHHH,” he gasped as a whole series of semi-sharp Strafing spikes suddenly seared his scrotum. “AHHH,” he gasped, automatically. They were, he could see on screen, imbedded on soft rubber of some description, because they yielded to the presence of the balls, but it was still a shock to the system. “AHHH,” he gasped again, as they passed back in the other direction. Outside the machine, his shaft started to strain. “AHHH,” he gasped again and again as they made a further three complete passes. “It was always one of my regrets, prisoner 12339,” said Wodin Thring, “how you were one of The Little Red Ridinghoods at the time of my retirement. I once hit your hand when you Explained yourself one morning….” it had, he recalled, been after three Detentions, “….but was unfortunately unable to apply any agonies to your arse. I had observed your particularly pert and punishable little posterior in the PT changing rooms one morning….” so there it was again, “….but one cannot have everything.”

 Now he could see the Boxing glove. “UGHHH....UGHHH….” he gasped as the machine hit him hard where it hurt, accompanied by strains of sock-it-to-me sounding from the machine. He recalled how the phrase had originated from Rowan and Martin’s Laugh In, American TV comedy series from the 1960’s, “….UGHHH….UGHHH,” he concluded. “Perhaps he should suffer six strokes with some stick, Sir,” Shagger suggested, “for cheating on his cross-country run.” He opened his mouth to say it wasn’t his fault, and shut it again. “Most certainly, Sir,” he said instead, woodenly. “Thank you for your co-operation,” said The Professor, “I shall introduce the next six torments with one whack. You may use the Rapid Responses….” which were rather rare, “….so there is no need to count the cuts, add any affirmation of appreciation, or suitable salutation.” Which was as well, since his mind was a mental mush.

 “It seems to be the Rollerballs next, prisoner 12339,” commented Thor Thring. He was right, since he could see a second set of rollers moving towards his balls….Swishhhthwackkkk “….Owww,” he gasped even as they slowly stretched his scrotum. “AHHHH,” he gasped. After about half an inch, they moved back into position. The measure was repeated, only as his scrotum stretched, they extended their travel. “AHHHH,” he gasped, followed several seconds later by, “AHHHHHH,” as the tension mounted. “AHHHHHH,” and a fourth time, “AHHHHHH.” Then they were withdrawn. “It’s such a shame the machine doesn’t have a Stretch Slave Sheet,” said sodding Shagger with a smirk, “since you could have signed it.” Ha bloody ha….Swishhhthwackkkk “….Owww,” he gasped, even as he felt some spikes on his scrotum. “AHHH,” he gasped as they pressed harder.

 He looked into the screen to see a horrid hairbrush. “AHHH,” he repeated. He’d suffered this type of torment many times before, most notably from his dratted dorm captain. Despite their firm friendship, Rick The Prick had never been at all averse in affirming his authority. Naturally, it was another reason for his nickname. The Crush Brush was….well, pointedly painful, but it also made them itch. Stop It I Like It….suddenly desperately desirous for the irritation to be assuaged. “AHHH,” he gasped as the devilish device dug deeper, but alas his scrotum soon itched again. “AGHHHH,” he shouted, as the plastic bristles made an abrupt departure. “AHHH,” he gasped, since almost immediately, they were back. The effect was cumulative, his balls itched interminably, but the removal stung even more. “AGHHHH,” he shouted, arching his head in abject agony.

 A third application, followed by a fourth, and then silence for a second….Swishhhthwackkkk “….Owww,” he gasped, hardly recognizing himself on the screen. “YEEEE….YEEEE,” he yelped, looking at his tormented testicles being beaten by a Mechanized multi-stranded martinet. It whipped them well for several seconds, an eternity from his perspective. There was a short pause before starting all over again….and again, for the usual total….Swishhhthwackkkk “….Owww,” he gasped as he saw some sort of stretchy stick. OMG….it must be the Crotch crop. Tantalizingly, on screen he could see the tension building in its arm. “UGHHH….me balls,” he shrieked as it released, and a sudden sear shot through his scrotum. Already he could see it was winding itself up again.

 His shaft strained in an anticipation of agonies, knowing how he’d sample the sensation shortly. “UGHHH,” he yelled at each cut….Swishhhthwackkkk “….Owww,” he gasped as on screen, a pair of metal plates approached from left and right. Presumably, these must be the Crotch crushers? “UGHHH….FUCK,” he yelled, as his best bits were compressed. Then they withdrew, but were back again soon enough. “UGHH, he gasped repeatedly…. Swishhhthwackkkk “….Owww,” he gasped as they were replaced by a further pair from above and below his balls. He’d had the horizontal, and now it was the vertical. “FUCK,” he shouted as his scrotum was squashed from the other angle. After another eternity, they withdrew.

 He hadn’t been counting consciously, but he’d had plenty of practice over the long years. “Thank you so much for swishing my seat, Sir….” he said humbly as he glanced up again, and could see tears from the terrible testicular torments….hardly surprising, “….I know it needed it.” Then his eyes shifted to the second screen. “NO,” he gasped in sheer terror as a mechanical hand moved slowly towards his testicles, with obviously evil intent. “NO,” he shrieked again as it took hold of them. “UGHHH,” he gasped, as the Scrotum squeezer slowly contracted. Knackered naked by a machine, somehow so deliciously deviant. “AYEEEEE,” he shrieked as it tightened. “WHAT a bad boy we are, William,” said Shagger, knowingly, “since I can see enjoyment in your eyes….” damn him, “….I suspect you’ve wanked your willy before now at the thought of being mechanically knackered….” rumbled “….lots of lads do, including me.”

 Even in his immediate agony, he wondered how many so-called macho males shared his particular perversion? “Sometimes I still squeeze and stretch my scrotum,” he went on, “whilst wanking worthlessly….pretending it’s the Knackerobot of my nightmares.” He should have realized he wasn’t unique. “AYEEEEE,” he gasped as it knackered him all over again. He looked up at the screen and saw a face of pain, but also a picture of pleasure. “SIR,” he moaned, “my nuts needed knackering so much….” SMACKK “….Owww,” he gasped as his seat was suddenly smacked. “Definitely they do,” said Thor Thring, “which is why you’re here.” The Mechanical hand released. “AYEEEEE,” he gasped as it tightened all over again. 

 Surely they were through, as he looked down at the list? Item ten remained, the fitting finale and Mystery surprise. What the fuck could it be? He glanced up at the screen in horror as a few inches away from his balls, he saw a knife approaching. “Most interesting….” said Wodin Thring, supremely unconcerned. But then it wasn’t his best bits on the firing line, “….it seems you have drawn the height of agony.” He threshed wildly, an action which achieved nothing. “NO,” he shrieked at the sight of the apparent embodiment of the schoolboy playground riddle. The answer was a man sliding down a razorblade, using his balls as brakes. “AYEEEEE….HEEE….” he shrieked as he felt himself sliced, and on screen it seemed the same, “….ohhh….ohhh,” he moaned, since all was over. Then he felt his fanny fondled in familiar fashion. “It’s time to go, William,” said sodding Shagger as he moved the Balls Lock lever again, releasing the spiral clamps.

 Slowly, he extracted his scrotum, expecting to see a sorry sight. “Ohh,” he gasped in shock, since despite what he’d seen, everything was intact. “It was only an illusion,” explained The Professor, “albeit an effective one. You saw dummy stock footage on screen, and coupled with a touch on the testicles, your brain did the rest.” Duped….he realized with sudden chagrin, but tinged with real relief at his narrow escape. Slowly he stood, and saw several spots sliding off his straining shaft. “We seem to have squeezed and stretched some semen,” said Wodin Thring, “or perhaps I have beaten some of the naughtiness out of you?”

 He smiled. “Possibly both, Sir,” he said, “I always expected to Explain myself to you one day. Alas, your retirement intervened, and thus it was Mr Terrence Hayter who duly did the deeds. I understand he agreed with your assessment of my arse.” The Professor proffered his hand, and they shook warmly. “Thank you once again,” he said, “as an august alumnus, you will be welcome to a further foray, should you wish to visit your alma mater in the future. It is subject to availability, since at Shagger’s suggestion, Ten:PM:GMT will be made available to the prefects-with-penis in Year XC.” He shivered slightly. “Once is quite enough, Sir,” he replied. “So Shagger said similarly,” he said sagely, “and yet he was back for several more sessions.”

 Perhaps he had a point? “We’ll help you, Will….” said Shagger, as he and Thor Thring stood at his sides, “….thank you and goodbye for now, Sir. Could you kindly send The Interlude to Sue Sweet…?” which was? “….it’s an AudioVisual Record made of your sessions, both here and in the cell….” really? “….there’s only one copy, which you can keep or delete.” Perhaps kept for purposes of posterity?

 “Ohh….ohh,” he moaned as he was frogmarched out of the dungeon. Then it was down a long corridor, lit with flaming torches. Finally, they reached a door with heavy hasps, and stepped outside into a courtyard, where he could see a Police car waiting. One rear door was opened, and he was pushed inside. “Ahhh….” he gasped as he sat down, and a raw rear reminded him of his recent rattan, “….ahhh,” added Shagger as he took the seat beside him. Had he also been beaten, he wondered whilst Thor Thring started the engine? Then they were on their way along a narrow driveway. Seconds later, they reached the main road, one which was suddenly familiar. It was the B1469, and he’d taken this trek often enough over the years from StricktlandS HalT to the school....several times a term.

 “You might like to learn a little more about The Amazns, William,” said Shagger, “in advance of your meeting on Monday. The dorm captain is Servalan Ewell, or Serve You. She’s a new nix this year….” which explained his earlier query, “….and the references to the Terran Federation are from a 1970’s Sci-Fi TV series called Blake’s 7. She’s a dead-ringer for the ancient Actress, Jacqueline Pearce….one of my philandering father’s life-long lusts….” he could understand the attraction, “….I’ve seen several such episodes on AV Record, and can only agree….” him too, “….whilst the dark damsel Macbeth is Bethany Mackie. She’s a smack slut, so should be straight up your street….if you play your cards right….” he watched whilst they passed beneath the wrought-iron arches of the main entrance gates, and accelerated along the carriage drive, “….Hissy Fits and Ultra Violet introduced themselves to you, and I’ve already told you about Balls Beater.

 The sixth strict soul, who fancies fun fellatio, was Mona Meir. She’s always complaining about something….hence My Year Moaner.” He’d be happy to help her at some stage, “….you may be interested to know how you ended up in Cell B, or indeed Selby, as it’s known….” very droll, after the Yorkshire town, “….and the answer was a small dose of Chloral Hydrate….” Ohh, “….except my phial was plain water….” Ohh, “….although I feigned unconsciousness for form’s sake….” Ohh, “….so The Amazns carried us both from The Dell to the lay-by. As soon as they’d gone, I made a miraculous recovery in the Police car. We took the short ride into Stricktlands Village, where I signed in. You did too, since I put the pen into your hand….for a somewhat shaky signature….” already he could see Big Ben sliding into view, “….then Thor drove us to Stern Hall. We wheeled you inside into on a trolley, and I had a pleasant chat with The Professor, before putting on the prison Warder wear. It’s my own set, which Sue Sweet dropped into Stern Hall yesterday evening.”

 They reached the buildings, and continued to the Staff car park. “Thanks, Thor,” said Shagger as he opened the rear door, “You’re welcome,” he replied, “anytime.” They both emerged, and watched whilst the Police car executed a circle, before departing.

 Then they walked up to Have A Thrash, who was staring at Shagger with what almost appeared to be a look of lust? “Nothing surprises me,” she said, “after the Amazonians informed me how they’d carried you both off unconscious, by order of the county Constabulary. I was slightly shocked when I collected the sheets, since I saw you’d somehow signed in….” they smiled sweetly, “….clearly with Thor’s kind connivance….” she must know him? “….but I hadn’t expected to see Shagger as the Sadistic Screw….” she licked her lips, “….Mmmm….the prison Warder wear does something for you….David. You were always one to stimulate my small submissive side….” HELL….he’d never known she even had one? “….I’ll mark you both down as having completed the course, even though it’s clear you did no such thing.” She made two neat notes on her clip board. “Thank you, Ma’am,” he said politely, “if it’s any consolation, Wanker Boy Will’s suffered substantially for Cheating. Apart from incarceration at Stern Hall, he’s spent a time of testicle torment inside Ten:PM:GMT, and been beaten by the beak. Thrasher Thring hit his hiney hard….show Ma’am your stripes.”

 He turned around, and bent forward slightly, noting a line of several runners had now formed behind them. “Ohh….ohh….ohh,” he moaned as they were stroked by her riding crop. “So what about you, Shagger?” she asked, sourly, “didn’t you also deserve discipline?” He nodded. “Most certainly, Ma’am,” he confirmed, “and the Thrings thrashed me thoroughly, whilst Shanks was still sleeping soundly in a cell….” which explained his evidently raw rear, “….it was six strokes apiece, as they both enjoy beating my neat little bottom.”

 She smiled. “I can understand their enthusiasm,” she said warmly, “and whilst I remember, we’re visiting St Bowlers, as you arranged….” whoever THEY were? “….we’ll leave on Monday at half past five, for a presentation to their Governors on Tuesday morning. Meet me in the main entrance hall. Off you go, as I’ve many more to mark in before the noon deadline.” He glanced up at Big Ben, which read 11.53am. “Let’s go, Will,” he urged, “you can leave your Short Shirt in the Games changing rooms. I’ll be your Guardian Angel over lunch, although you’ll be on your own at dinner.” Damn’ decent, as it was unlikely anyone would argue with the Sadistic Screw.

 


 

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