Fraudsters Punished The concluding chapter
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"I’ve had the heater on in the punishment room for an hour now so it’s warm enough for you to try out some of the equipment."
"Is that an order Colonel?" Margaret questioned sensing he was in his ‘military mode’.
"Yes, if that’s the way you want it. I thought you might have wished to feel what some of the equipment they used long ago felt like." Jeremy replied.
"Maybe but I am not so sure as to what you might do when I am strapped down and helpless and, as you saw this morning, I’ve just started my period and am flowing heavily."
"You’ve had periods twelve or thirteen times a year for twenty or twenty-five years. I don’t expect your father stopped screwing you for three days each month did he?"
"No." Margaret admitted. "When I was a teenager he seemed to delight when I started bleeding and often would wipe his cock and balls with my soiled towel before screwing me. Afterwards I would have to clean him as usual. I refused once and then he gagged me with the towel and then while it was still in my mouth, he wetted it with his piss. That wasn’t the end of it either. I was still flowing heavily so he sat me over his cock while he watched TV for the evening and then I had to tongue clean his cock again. Afterwards I got a dose of the strap on my cunt so I never refused again."
"I thought he might have used your arsehole during your periods."
"He did. Sometimes alternating from one to the other. I hated my period times but he seemed to delight in them."
"Well I’ve done both to women at menses time so I’m not putting it off now. It’s a Saturday so time for some appropriate entertainment."
"You wouldn’t want to get the equipment stained though would you? Not now you’ve got it all nice and clean and the new straps and all."
"Don’t argue. Get yourself into the punishment room miss and strip off." Jeremy in his military mode expected to be obeyed without hesitation. Margaret did so. Jeremy led her to the trestle with the wooden inverted Vee bar and made her lie along it. The apex had been rounded off so it was about an inch across. Even so it still pressed hard into the cleavage between her breasts and into her slit. It wasn’t too bad at the moment but she knew the pain would increase with time. It increased too when he tightened the straps around her wrists and ankles and then the one around her body.
"My God, that hurts Jeremy. Ease the straps a bit. Jeremy! ..." But Jeremy had left the room. Margaret tried to move to ease the pressure a little but to no avail. She screamed to be released but it was long minutes before Jeremy re-entered the room, this time carrying a bundle of willow osiers roughly and hastily bound at one end. He placed it at the side where she could see the freshly cut rods, glistening and wet. While Margaret pleaded Jeremy felt along her body. He squeezed her tits to the rail and fingered her arsehole.
"Can you begin to feel what it was like to be helpless and in pain and awaiting further pain, Margaret?" She only pleaded and cursed. Jeremy turned all the lights out except one, which made the room seem extremely gloomy. "Just imagine yourself surrounded by men and perhaps some women, wanting to see you subjected to terrible pain. Men who you knew would ravage you afterwards without any thought for your pain, only their pleasure. Imagine it Margaret. See them in your mind, illuminated by the smoky, flickering light of oil lamps and candles. Vague shapes in the near darkness. See this birch I made. Twigs are still wet from the rain. It’s not very neat I know but I only just went down the garden to cut the osiers. Six of them Margaret. Six lines of fire across your arse with each stroke. Imagine it Margaret. Imagine the audience of men and perhaps some women for they are often more cruel, urging me to hit harder and harder. To go on and on and on. Till your arse is one bleeding blister. Margaret Smith you have three chalk marks against your name, you know how many strokes that is?"
"Six." Margaret was sobbing hysterically now. "Has something snapped in Jeremy’s mind? Will he flog me like he is saying until I cannot move and pass out? Has he lost control of himself? Oh my God, how did I get into this mess?" She cried, pleaded, cajoled to no avail. "Let me go, Let me go. Jeremy, don’t do this. Just let me go. I will get out of your life. I won’t say anything." It was as if Jeremy was deaf.
Jeremy picked up the rod. "Yes, six hard strokes of the birch. Six canes hitting your arse at once. Leaving lived welts; livid painful welts that will show for a long while. Can you hear the other women waiting by the wall crying? Can you hear the men cheering, Margaret? Can you hear them shouting, ‘Thrash her, thrash her, thrash her?’ I can. They want blood. I can give them that with just this supple bundle of twigs. Are you ready for a flogging Margaret?"
"No, Jeremy, NO! Please don’t do it. Release me. Please I beg you, release me."
"Not until you’ve had a thrashing, Margaret dear. Ready now? Here it comes." Jeremy brought the birch smartly across both bum cheeks but didn’t use his full force. Nevertheless Margaret screamed. She was sure she was cut and bleeding. "Hear the cheers, Margaret?" They want more. I will give it to them." The birch came down again adding more stripes and raising narrow welts. Margaret was almost beyond screaming. She was certain now she was living with a madman. Six times the birch landed, the last harder than the rest. Believing beyond any doubt she was cut and bleeding, Margaret still begged for release.
"Are you ready for the r****g now Margaret? There’s a whole queue of men waiting to get their cocks into your tender cunt and whipped arse. We’ll just have to lift you a little first." Jeremy undid the ankle and body straps and placed a shaped padded hide bolster under her stomach. "I wondered what this was for but now I think I have the answer. The Vee shape underneath is intended to fit over the bar and the saddle is to fit the stomach to lift it and make your cunt and arse more accessible." He slid the bolster along until it raised her to the right height for him to enter his prick and then strapped her ankles again.
"Please no, Jeremy. Colonel!" She hoped using his rank might bring him out of his sadistic mood, "Colonel please stop. I’m too hurt. I’m bleeding. You’re an officer. Don’t do it."
Jeremy thought, "Yes you are bleeding but only from your cunt. Not from the birch although it may seem like it." Aloud he went on, "Here’s the first r****t Margaret. Just a moment while I collect his money then you’ll feel his cock force its way inside you." Moments later he plunged his cock in and fucked her for a few moments, then withdrew, moved away and came back. "r****t number two," he growled and started fucking her again. Once again he withdrew without spurting his seed. Acting as the third r****t he pushed his cock into her arsehole, causing a further scream from Margaret. This time it didn’t take many thrusts before he shot his load into her bowels. "Anyone else want to pay a shilling for her?" Jeremy called to his imaginary audience. "No? Come on Gentlemen, get those cocks out and into this lovely tender cunt and arse. Feel the warmth coming from her well-thrashed backside. Still no takers? Perhaps you’re holding back waiting for some of the other beauties waiting to be tenderly warmed up."
As soon as Jeremy released her, Margaret’s hands flew to her buttocks. She was surprised to find they were not covered with blood. He helped her to the bathroom so she could see the stripes but they weren’t as deep or a red as she had anticipated. She’d had far worse canings. Slowly she began to realise, the word pictures that Jeremy had painted had made her believe she was to be beaten until she almost bled to death. "You bastard!" she muttered at him, part in anger part in relief. "You bastard. I thought you had lost control and were flogging me to death."
"I wanted you to try and feel what the women, and men too, in the early eighteen hundreds must have felt when they were ordered to be punished. It must have been a terrifying experience. You can now feel the thoughts that must have gone through Clara and Bell’s minds when they were hung for flogging with much greater clarity. Am I right Margaret?"
"Yes, damn you. I can feel for them only too well, you bastard. I don’t think I have ever been so scared."
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