Correction Correction

Which she does. With a CRACK the searing pain erupts again in my chest, filling my whole body. I can only stare back with admiration and longing as she binds me once again in her gaze, then gracefully releases me. Five and I both wear Six's X now. This part is over.

Two removes our extra devices and puts our cock nets back on. She gives each of us a little kiss right below our upper fiducial marks, taking care not to smudge them, then turns to help Six finish dressing."We're done now -- back to work. Suffer pretty in your mylar vests." And to me"See you in court -- come in stripes next time!" They exit the rear door. I'm relieved we are not re-blindfolded -- did they forget? I'll get to see the apparatus after all.

But there's still some contemplation time left. We were to hang for half an hour. Six and Two took a bit over twenty minutes for their show, and there's five minutes left. I'm twisting and convulsing painfully again, just like my neighbor. But now I know why I'm being punished -- I can use the time to reflect properly.

It goes fast; time for final preparations. The punishment apparatus is pretty sinister, and totally twenty-first century. An attendant, a man this time, enters the room and opens a hatch in the wall to my left. It is difficult to see clearly on account of the brank holding my head, but in the mirror I see he grasps a metal ring inside the hatch and pulls it out. Attached is a steel band about half an inch wide. He walks across the room pulling the band out behind him, opens another hatch on the other side, where he hooks the ring in place. He touches a control, and the band is tightened, stretching about three inches in front of my chest. I sense by the strange singing noise it makes that it must be under a thousand pounds of tension -- maybe more. At this point I have no concept of the pain this band can induce, I can only imagine, and I'm getting hard again, in spite of having just come. The attendant notices this and chuckles a little to himself, leaving the room for a moment to return with a bag of fittings.

The inmate door opens and a carriage comes in on the overhead rail, but it is not towing an inmate. Attached to its carriage pole, and the one which follows it, are the active instruments of our chastisement. The first stops between me and Four, the second between Four and Five. Each supports a long rectangular box, reaching from the floor to above the height of the steel strip. They appear to attach themselves to the floor by suction so as not to move even with a lot of force. The attendant opens a hatch on the front of the machine nearest me. Sliding a large hairpin-shaped loop over the band, he plugs it into the machine. This appears to be mostly for safety -- the band does not touch the hairpin, though the hairpin completely encloses the band. I observe that the end of the loop is well past the targets -- us.

The active mechanism is revealed next. The attendant reaches into the hatch and swivels up a rod with a bend at the end, which can hook the band and pull it backward. The hook end is just an inch or so beyond the band, and appears ready to pull. A magnetic latch extends slightly from the front of the mechanism, ready to receive and hold the band stretched away from us.

He sets up the other machine, then presses a control. The two hooks pull the band back with obvious force to the magnetic latches. Once the band is magnetically gripped, the hooks drop out of the way. As the band is pulled back it makes an ominous singing, sizzling sound -- a great deal of energy is being put in, ready to be released on our mylar-covered torsos. I shiver with anticipation as I look in the mirror at the taut quivering band in front of me, ready to unleash its atoning energy into my very being. Yes, Six, I deserve this punishment.

The attendant leaves the room, and the lights dim. What follows is surreal. My twisting and convulsing stops. The steel invader in my anus, which is now considerably further in, fills me below as I feel my backrest inflate, further tightening me in the steely embrace of the mylar case I'm wearing. Two laser beams converge on my polymer-enclosed chest and those of my companions. My pole moves down until the two beams are at the mark the attendant made below my Adam's apple, and it simultaneously swivels forward and slightly side to side until the reflections leave without bending up or down -- I am positioned so the point of impact is exactly square to the path the band will take as it flies in. Since my chest curves in toward my neck in that area, I am tilted somewhat head forward, and can't help staring at the band -- I understand the purpose of the gag strap now, since if I opened my mouth my jaw might actually be in the band's path. I feel the telescoping collar attachment lock so I can't move my head at all. My punishment pole moves forward until the two laser marks converge, positioning me at the correct distance for the impact. Precision! I can hear my companions grunting as they are similarly positioned, the laser beams converging to neat dots on their chests also. This time around Four is sharing the experience, though he cannot see the beams, and he growls into his gag, thrashing in his bonds.

The loudspeaker voice announces "Commence the punishment. The prisoners will receive eighteen severe correctional impacts". Right now I'm in an ecstasy of anticipation -- perfectly positioned to receive the blow, the band singing in front of me. The seconds go by...

I could not have imagined what happens next. First, my arms and legs are fiercely convulsed, along with my belly. As I gasp in surprise the collar tightens, preventing me from drawing my breath back. I struggle for breath for a second or so, and the collar suddenly loosens; involuntarily I draw in deeply. The collar tightens again -- I am filled with air and water, squeezed even more tightly against the mylar. With a loud SNAP the band lands, shaking me on the pole with the impact. Agonizing pain surges up and down my whole body. Of course I can't scream, not yet. But the collar loosens after a moment, and gasping for breath I let out a keening cry, along with my companions. This is nothing like any blow I ever received -- even Six's X seems merciful in comparison. This is real punishment, not a game.

Well, did I expect a walk in the park? Twenty seconds or so go by, the agony settling into a throb, and the laser beams come on again. This time the pole aims me for a landing at the bottom mark, just above my penis -- that's why the net, which secures it well below the line of fire. I'm tilted back to make the landing spot perpendicular, and in the eerie glow I see my companions positioned likewise. Establishing the upper and lower bounds, I suppose.

I know a little more what to expect this time; my body struggles to escape, obviously to no avail. I convulse, the pain momentarily obscuring the burning at my upper chest, exhaling for the collar's embrace. There's no avoiding gasping air when it releases momentarily, even knowing what is to happen. Collar tightens -- SNAP -- I shudder and sway on the pole. The searing pain rushes out of my groin to the ends of my body as the collar releases, allowing me a scream of agony. At this point I don't even notice what my companions do -- I've sunk into my own space.

I'm marked at both extremes, the throbbing extending from my neck to my groin. Sixteen more strokes will fill in the space. Can I possibly bear it? I know that if I start to faint I will be revived with drugs squirted into my mouth and anus -- there's no escaping this punishment, even by unconsciousness. I struggle involuntarily in my bonds, even though it adds more pain.

Another twenty seconds and I'm being positioned again. My muscles convulse painfully with electrical stimulation, taking my breath away again. The collar tightens, then loosens and I gasp for air -- there is no way to avoid this, no matter how hard I try. I mentally brace for the impact, but nothing. The collar releases again, and I gasp along with my companions, wondering what happened. Did the mechanism fail?

No. Twenty five seconds later the same thing happens, and it sinks in. I will be repositioned and choked every thirty seconds, sixty times in half an hour. But I am to receive eighteen strokes, two already passed in the first minute. I'll not know when a stroke is actually to occur.

Re-position, convulsion, gasp, choke, gasp, wait. Re-position, repeat. I watch helplessly as the beams converge on a particular spot, not knowing if agony will erupt there in a moment or not. Now that top and bottom are established, the other positions seem random -- I've been positioned half a dozen places now, high and low, with no stroke landing. The throbbing continues unabated, but to my complete surprise I'm wishing for a stroke now -- perhaps to get this over with, but perhaps not. Please sir (or ma'am), may I have another?

Re-position, convulsion, gasp, choke, gasp, WHAM, gurgle, AARGH. My god, how could I wish for that. The pain surges through, mixing with the increasing throbbing. Re-position, convulsion, gasp, choke, gasp, WHAM, gurgle, EOWWW. Two in a row. Then three no-hitters. Re-position, convulsion, gasp, choke, gasp, WHACK, gurgle, AIEEE.

Several more false alarms. I'm starting to sob pitifully, my body struggling to get free. Control yourself, it only makes it hurt more. But there's no controlling it, the lower brain does all it can to try to escape. "Resistance is futile" is meaningless -- the body, if still alive and conscious, simply can't stop resisting. I can't believe this is happening to me.

The lights go up, but it's obviously not over. An attendant comes in with two blindfolds. She flips a safety switch to pause the punishment and walks over to Five to blindfold him. Then over to me, and I lose my vision also, though it makes little difference now. I hear her go out, flipping the safety switch back to normal, and from the light leaking into my blindfold I see that the lights dim back down.

Re-position, convulsion, gasp, choke, gasp, WHAM, gurgle, YAIEEEE... I'm up to six now. Only twice as much yet to go. Crying desperately I try to imagine Six naked before me, but the image won't form."My God, my Queen, why have you forsaken me?"

Although the positions seem somewhat random, the choices are clearly made to keep space between the strokes, to allow the freshest possible flesh to receive each strike. After six impacts my space is pretty filled in, the throbbing can't be placed. But the blows continue to land, of course, in the spaces in between. The perfect bondage of the mylar vest makes it possible to land many impacts without overlap -- the maximum number has been steadily increased from around ten when the punishments were introduced, up to around twenty now, depending on the size of the inmate. I'm not large, eighteen is pushing it, but each stripe will be clean and distinct -- none of the messy results seen in pictures from Indonesia.

Re-position, convulsion, gasp, choke, gasp, WHAM, gurgle, YAIOWW. My little reverie is interrupted, sending fire through my body.

I'm sinking into a daze. Infusions of drugs are keeping me conscious but the brain has defenses nonetheless, and after a while I lose count, drifting in a sea of throbbing pain and momentary agony. I still can't help struggling to escape, though -- you'd think it would be obvious escape is impossible, but the body can't learn or accept that, and it adds considerably to the overall punishment. Except for the convulsions before the impacts, no electricity is required now. I will writhe and twist between impacts anyway, struggling desperately to escape regardless of my helplessness. This appears to be true for my companions also. I can see them in the mirror twisting and pulling on their wrists frantically just like I am -- we'll have bruises on many other places besides our chests and groins. Our spread legs shake uncontrollably in our stirrups. Rattles, clicks and creaks fill the room along with with the singing of the steel band and our cries and groans.

On and on it goes, the blows filling in every inch between my two marks. No wonder the attendant took such pleasure in making them. My whole body aches and throbs with pain, except when a blow lands and I explode with agony. The blows which don't occur remind me how I'm shuddering with fear just before they land. I continue to struggle fiercely, yanking and pulling at my wrists, thrashing my legs about desperately. I expect my balls and penis are flapping around plenty for the pleasure of anyone who might be watching, though I know these sessions are not offered for sale. Although the penetrator now invades my anus pretty far, I'm hardly aware of it, so great is the pain from the blows themselves. I must be a pretty sight for anyone who likes to watch this sort of thing, and I suspect that one person in particular will view the security tapes with pleasure. This thought is promptly interrupted as I am re-positioned yet again. Then comes the excruciating convulsion, the pain of which is only exceeded by the impact of the steel band on my body. The breathless anticipation, gasp, choke, gasp. Then the merciless impact. For all its modern efficiency and hygiene, it's founded on the whole history of humanity's brutally effective coercive corporal punishments. Except for one thing, for which I am thankful -- a fatal outcome is far less likely. WHAM, gurgle, AIEEEEE.... The room erupts with screams.

Finally it's over. The end is a little mean -- the repositionings continue for several cycles after the last blow has landed, but I long since lost count, so I don't know that it's really over until I sense the lights come up, and feel some soothing pain-relieving drugs injected into my mouth and anus. They don't taste very good, but they work fast.

We remain blindfolded for the unbinding. First the penetrator withdraws. The previous punishment took care of this delicately -- nothing like that now. However, I emit only a few drops -- the continual pressurizing and releasing has cleaned me out pretty well, and before it pulls out completely it sucks me out thoroughly. I can hear the Skoobas patrolling -- they will clean up the rest.

The vest is another matter. It's tightly glued in place. I dread the thought that it will simply be ripped off, but they are not that cruel. I feel an attendant sponge a fluid over my chest and groin. It's anaesthetic, and brings the pain under control -- we have to be able to get home, after all. But I notice that it's dissolving the glue also, returning it to the lubricating state it was in when the vest was installed, and the attendant can now remove it without much pain. As this is taking place I can hear my companions, Five first, then Four, making their exit. We can't see each other, but it makes little difference - this punishment has had little of the communal bonding quality of my earlier experience.

My legs are let down, my brank-gag removed, and my arms returned to my front, where they are taken by the carriage-pole. The collar is re-attached to the pole also, unlike before when it simply opened. I am still bound with high security. At the exit I am finally un-blindfolded.

The carriage pole pulls me out. I enter the cleaning chamber as before, and my legs are re-spread. The collar pole stiffens, and I am quickly washed, then dried. The air knife hurts a bit more than previously as it passes over my eighteen welts. Now I learn why the collar and its pole are used for this exit. I'm being spray-painted on my chest and groin. A thin plastic covering, like a medi-spray bandage, is applied, and tingles as it settles and dries. I suppose this is a good thing. Although my skin is mostly not broken thanks to the vest, it's pretty traumatized, and there is risk of infection, which this will reduce. It has another more sinister purpose, I discover later.

On to the dressing booth, where with some difficulty I dress. This time the second little compartment does open. No drugs this time, only instructions. These set expectations, warning me that my punishment is not yet over, and especially not to try to apply pain relievers to the stripes, as the protective spray coating also contains chemicals which will react with them and create considerable extra pain. There are some prescriptions in case of infection, and instructions for how to deal with more serious medical issues should they occur.

The police car is waiting outside, and the officer motions me to get in. He does not speak or look at me, simply delivering me to the bus stop I requested. The anaesthetics last long enough for me to get home, where exhausted, I try to sleep, but find it's not so easy.

Just one anomaly was recorded for the session. At shift change, a security officer substituting for one who called in sick observed on his monitor that contrary to the specified protocol two of the three prisoners being punished were not blindfolded, so an attendant was sent in to correct the situation. Six sure knows how to cover her tracks!

EPILOGUE

The punishment continued long after I returned home. The first week was excruciating -- I could hardly sleep. Contrary to the instructions I tried a little anaesthetic balm on one stripe, and the instant searing pain put a stop to those experiments. As the pain decreased the itching became unbearable. I got in touch with Five, and we became better friends for our common experience. I could not have made it through those weeks if he had not been willing to bind my hands behind me while I got what little sleep I could. Soon my turn would be over and I would have to stand guard over bound Five while he tried to rest. We both took some amusement in the distinctive pattern we wore. While web pictures of an "Eighteen" show just eighteen perfectly parallel welts, we in addition sport a perfectly formed X across our upper chests, the intersection perfectly centered and precisely in line with our nipples. At first neither of us had any desire for orgasm, it was simply too painful, but later we provided each other with relief -- other sexual encounters required far too much explanation! Our friendship got us through the first months, until the angry marks subsided sufficiently to enable outside exploration, and while not serious lovers, we still enjoy a scene once in a while -- we certainly know a lot about each other's limits. He's never been willing to tell me what either of his "crimes" was -- don't ask, don't tell, I suppose. We agree that the second experience was rather beyond either of our limits -- I certainly learned Six's lesson, and will not try to slip one by her, or any of the tormentors, ever again.

Six's experiment yielded interesting data, as Five, who is able somehow to access all sorts of confidential information, ferreted out. Five and I suffered significantly more than Four, and more consistently from stroke to stroke, as a result of having been brought to orgasm (especially so thoroughly) before our punishment. Six has not actually made use of this data; the authorities have been tolerant of the peculiarities of the non-impact punishment because of the revenue it raises, but the notion of making prisoners come before impact punishment, however effective it might be, is simply too far from the mainstream notion of what constitutes "punishment" to gain traction. I rather suspect that Six documented that experiment more for damage control preparedness than to actually push for a change in the punishment protocol. In the event that her presence in the chamber that day came to light, it would provide some justification, however lame, for the activity which took place.

The other interesting piece of confirmed information was this. Four, after a series of minor property crimes, decided to try his hand at pimping again. His shoddy treatment of his girls resulted in quick apprehension, and his misfortune to come before a woman judge got the book thrown at him. He still must not have been very good at it -- he could not possibly pay the fine. Six only had to approve Four's punishment, but when Five's and my cases came up about the same time, it was simply more than she could resist not to make some "corrections" and put us in the same session. She of course knew exactly what I was up to, and had a pretty good idea in Five's case also -- I've heard she was grinning from ear to ear when she logged out that day! However, I've also heard that she was pretty chagrined when she reviewed the punishment data -- Five and I really did suffer quite a bit more than she anticipated. How do I feel about it? The experience was excruciatingly awful. But the erotic surge which wells up inside as I think of Six's X on my chest makes me wonder -- are there some questions which just can't be answered?