Oubliette & Tolbooth - A New Attraction

DISCLAIMER: This story involves the degradation of a trans character, this is not meant to be read as transphobic scripture. The writer, being me, is trans, not that makes it automatically okay, but just understand, this is a fantasy, and it fulfills some of my submissive desires.

Also, a further warning of bodily excretions. (I have a very perverted mind).

This story is a sort-of follow up to "New Punishment System Demonstration", but it is not required to be read before this one.

Characters all 18 years old above etc.

* * * * *

After the humiliating experience on the local TV channel, Carla's family upped sticks and moved to England to try and put it behind them and start afresh. A year passed, and little changes happened to Carla, thanks to her HRT. Her breasts finally began to grow, although small, this made her very happy on the inside. It did come with the price of very bad acne, but Carla didn't mind. Carla mostly stayed by herself and did not go out unless she was dragged out for whatever reason. However, a new supposedly scarily fun attraction called the "Oubliette & Tolbooth" opened near where Carla lived, and she decided to go.

Carla was standing patiently in the queue to the new attraction, becoming increasingly more aware of the very rowdy group of six twenty-something-year-old men behind her. She guessed they were celebrating something.

Time passed, and Carla drew closer to the front. She watched a family before her, who were getting their photo taken with the single parent in a wooden pillory. Her two sons, who were about the same age as Carla, were laughing while the cameraman clicked away.

It seemed like the family was the last of the party in front of Carla, which unfortunately meant she was going to be stuck with the men behind for the entirety of the attraction. On the positive side, it looked like she was about to go through.

"Up you come." The cameraman gestured to Carla.

"No, that's alright," Carla replied, waving her hand. "I don't want a photo."

"Oh, is it our turn?" The men pushed Carla forward. She stood there confused watching from the sidelines as the men got into their what seemed to be rehearsed poses. Then one turned to her. "Hey, get in here." He dragged her into the picture. "Get into the stocks." He commanded, and Carla began to move around to the other side of the pillory, but the man stopped her. "No, the other way." He commanded. Carla stood confused, then he moved her into the centre of the picture, turned her facing away from the camera then placed her through the large holes of the pillory.

Carla felt very uncomfortable, being bent over with her ass sticking out for the camera. She stood there a while, and the cameraman began to laugh. It slowly increased, then she felt the waistband of her panties snap hard against her butt. She jumped, banging her neck against the wood. She reached around and found her blue skater skirt flipped up. Carla slowly got out of the pillory, very annoyed.

It was doubly humiliating because she was wearing one of her more geeky underwear that was grey with a big, bright pink love heart in the centre of her bum. Carla made sure she was covering them again and looked about her.

"I'm afraid your friends went on the head." The bemused cameraman said.

"They're not my friends." She replied, noticing the large queue behind her that must have watched the entire scene.

"Whatever." The cameraman shrugged. "Can you move on, please ... love heart". He smiled. Carla flushed red and moved forward, going over the event that just took place. They must have taken a few photos with her knickers on show, she thought, then got bored. Carla felt awful but trudged through to the first room.

* * * * *

Carla closed the big, dark door behind her and was confronted with three reflections of herself looking quite sullen and scared. She was in the hall of mirrors or the "Labyrinth" as the leaflet advertised it as. There was shouting up ahead, so Carla made towards it, but due it being quite dark, she looked down to her feet, and to her horror found the floor was also a mirror. Carla could see her long, chunky, smooth legs grow into darkness under her skirt. She was thankful it was too dark to see more but moved forwards carefully.

The corridors of mirrors curled and spread into different directions, but Carla kept following the convivial laughs and shouts into darker, darker passages. Carla reached a long passage and was halfway down when the noises ceased. She listened carefully but heard nothing. Looking about her momentarily, she decided to carry on.

Carla walked without any forward-thinking down different corridors, never looking back. Then the laughter increased slowly, but Carla could not find the source, or for that matter the direction of the source. The corridors were bouncing the quiet sounds all over the place. Flash! Suddenly, there was a bright white light. Carla covered her eyes and then it was gone.

She looked into the reflection in front of her. The noises ceased again. Her body and the corridor behind her were in the reflection. It was now so dark; Carla could not see more than a couple of paces behind her in the mirror.

Carla looked to her left, and too her utter relief saw another pair of big, dark doors that were different from the ones she entered from. She turned towards them. Flash! The light appeared again; Carla squinted. The light was being reflected from the mirrors. Carla turned around to find the six men howling with laughter.

"Hey, love heart." The man in the middle said, holding a phone beaming with light. Love heart? Carla looked down at the floor and saw her knickers reflected. She jumped, then hurried for the door. The man with the phone continued directing the light as she ran down the corridor. Which, unfortunately, due to the quick movements from Carla, illuminated the reflection on the floor of her penis sliding up and down her gooch and her sack bouncing at the front.

"What is that?" The man with the phone shouted in mock surprise, to the growing laughter of his friends. "C'mon! Let's have a look." Carla passed through the door as quickly as she could, slammed the door, then her back on the back of the door, panting.

* * * * *

As Carla caught her breath, a woman came around the corner in front of her. She was dressed in a long, dark dress that stopped above her ankles and spoke menacingly. "Are you the witch who will not confess?"

Carla was dumbfounded by this strange question by the time she realised it was part of the show, the rest of the party passed through the door beside her.

"Oh, yes. She is a witch!" One of the men replied on Carla's behalf. "She has enchanted us all under her spell." Was that meant to be a compliment? If it was all it did was make Carla's skin crawl.

"And she has not confessed?" The woman asked.

"No, she has not."

"Yes. The devil often has a great grip over his servants." The woman lectured. "Only extreme pain can cause this grip to slip. Bring her on through."

Before Carla could question what 'extreme pain' would entail, two of her party restrained her and followed the woman around the corner. "Hey, wait." She spluttered trying to wriggle free.

The corridor opened out into a medium-sized room. There at the back was an x-frame with straps that would hold the victim standing upright, legs spread. Next to it lay a trolley with a cover over it, obviously to ramp up the dramatics. Finally, off to one side was a device that comprised of two boards lifted off the ground that met in a V-shape at the top, a so-called 'Spanish Donkey'.

"Strap her on the frame." The woman commanded. The two holding Carla followed her orders, strapping her wrists above and slightly to the side of her as if she was surrendering. Then they moved down to Carla's feet, but before they spread her legs out, one of the men slipped his hand up her skirt and pulled her panties down and off then stuffed them in his pocket.

"Hey! Wh ... " Carla tried to refuse before one of the men slapped his hand in front of her face. The woman was busy tending to her trolley. Then the other man flipped up her skirt and tucked it into the waistband, putting her hairy tackle on show.

Carla's mind slowly began to swim around and was transported back to the assembly, where she was humiliated then spanked. Then her mind raced to the TV show, where she obediently slipped her shorts, and thong down and received a spanking by two men then had one of them rub her womanhood to an erection. She couldn't speak even when the man removed his hand. The submissive was returning, who followed orders without question.

Carla's ankles were strapped, with her legs far apart with her dick and balls falling freely in between them.

The woman moved forward, flung the cover from the trolley as we were all expecting, then faced Carla. She eyed Carla up and down. "You really are an abomination!" She laughed. "The devil has twisted and tainted your body." She tutted. "We are going to have to work extra hard to drive him from you, so you can confess and be tried. It'll be fun to watch you hang." This was making Carla even more uncomfortable if that was even possible. She can now add death play to the sexual humiliation, and whatever pain this woman concocted to the list of things making Carla wished she never left the house.

The woman picked up a blade from the trolley and began rubbing it up and down her shaft. Carla straightened. "Mutilating genitals is always a fun one." Then suddenly, she brought the blade behind her dick and pressed it close to her skin as if she was about to slice the full length off. Carla jumped but did not voice her rejection. "The trouble is you have to do it slowly, or they bleed out." She continued to lecture. She rubbed the blade up and down her shaft once more, with a smirk on her face, than placed the blade on the trolley again. "Of course, we do not sanitise our apparatus, which can lead to?" She asked the men.

"Infection." One of them answered.

"Very good." The woman picked up a plier-like instrument. "Now, what do you think this is for?"

"Toenails? ... Ears?" They guessed.

"Close. It is for an extremity but more personal." She said, quickly gripping one of Carla's testicles with it. Carla tried not to jump, not wanting cause any pain, which thankfully it wasn't, just very undignified. "It's for balls!" She laughed. Snap! Carla cried out, but there was no pain. All the men joined in laughing. At the last second, the woman moved the instrument and clicked it away from harm.

"Man, you are fun." The woman cooed, stroking Carla's face. Carla moved her face away, and she dropped her hand. After this ordeal, Carla was surprisingly quite relieved, there was to be no pain, and she has already been degraded. Don't get her wrong she wished it wasn't happening, but it could be worse. "But still, you will not break."

'Break.' She forgot that's all she had to do. All she had to was confess to being a witch. How had she not realised this sooner? "Let's put her on the Spanish Donkey!" The woman ordered.

"I con ..." Carla tried to confess, but one of the men slapped his hand onto her face again while the woman's back was turned. They undid the straps while Carla was trying to speak through the hand.

They dragged her over to the Spanish Donkey, as the woman indicated, with her mouth covered, hoisted her up, and then dropped her down on the V-shape wedge. Carla screamed and began to cry heavily. The notion that there will be no pain went out of the window. Not only was the board up her arse, touching her hole, but the full weight of her body was squishing her tackle onto the point, underneath her. Thankfully her penis and sack spilled out the front and bounced on the edge.

The woman looked over to her, worried. "It's our fault. We should have been more careful with our friend here." One of them who was carrying Carla said to the woman. "No harm done." At that, he tapped her penis, making Carla near jump off the apparatus completely.

"Oh, right. As long as everyone is okay." She said, really quite worried.

Carla didn't know what to say. She probably should complain. Said that these grotesque men were not her friends, but, instead, she said weakly through tears: "I confess."

The woman took that as she was okay, and there were not going to be any problems. The woman smiled. "Well, then we better get you dragged off to trial then ... No, but seriously the next group is due, so could you get going."

The two men carried the gently sobbing Carla of the apparatus to the floor. Carla flipped down her skirt and quietly followed the rest of the party to the next room.

* * * * *

The group arrived in a dark semi-circular room, with a table close to the back, and round benches along the curvature of the room. Next to the table was a wooden stool with a curtain that could be pulled around it. A cloaked figure jumped out from behind the table, wearing a white plague mask that made him look extremely creepy. "Boo!" The plague doctor laughed. "Hello, my students, in today's lesson we will be looking at the bubonic plague. Including some of the symptoms and some tried-and-tested cures."

All the party stood looking at him, not knowing what to do. "Well, take a seat." He gestured. The six guys went to the front and on the left. Carla was in between two of them as they walked up, so went to the front as well but sat on the right, away from them.

"That's it now." he continued to gesture. "Right, ready? Let us begin." He moved behind the table where a fake body lay. "See here, under the neck." He pointed at a large swollen area. "The swollen area. You need to be careful ..." He grabbed hold of it. "... because it has a tendency to burst!" Suddenly, he ripped it off. Water began spraying everywhere, and the doctor directed the spray towards Carla, splashing inside her mouth and chest. He then tried to direct it towards the men, but it had run out by then.

Carla was in complete shock from the cold, spitting out the water. The party began wolf-whistling. To her dismay, Carla realised her white top was soaked, her small boobs were clearly visible. She seemed to have a gift of not wearing bras on the worst days to do so. Quickly, she covered up with her arms.

The plague doctor walked over to Carla, bent over, and looked carefully over her face. "Hmm. Hey, you." He pointed at one of the men. "Come here." The man, a little confused, consented. "Do you believe in my hypothesis that she has ... it?" The plague doctor asked in a dramatic fashion.

Taking up the doctor's lead, bent down, and looked at Carla's face. Carla was very scared for where this could possibly lead. "Yes. I think you are right. It does appear she has caught the black death."

"It's acne." Carla replied, as sternly as she could.

"'Ackley'? What is 'ackley'?" He pondered turning to the man for clarification, but he just shrugged. "Well, there is nothing for it. You will be a perfect subject to demonstrate cures to the class." He grabbed her by the shoulder, and dragged her over to the stool, and shoved her down. The man from the party went back to his seat looking giddy, looking forward to whatever came next. Carla's skirt flared over the side of the stool so her bare bum was touching the surface. Unfortunately, it was very rough.

The plague doctor slowly pulled the curtain around Carla, obscuring her from view, much to the dismay of the spectators. "First, I get them to bathe in pee!" The doctor laughed. Carla twitched but then grew still as the curtain seem to completely block out the light, and she was sitting in complete darkness. She felt the doctor lift her arms, and two unknown things fly past her face. The doctor then released her, and she felt cold.

"Have you been washing in urine?" The doctor asked loudly.

"Err ... No." Carla stammered, not exactly what to do or say.

"Strange. It does smell like it." The doctor laughed as did the other men.

Beside the curtain, there was a floodlight which the doctor flicked on, silhouetting Carla behind the curtain. The doctor produced a jar of yellow liquid, undid the top, pulled back the curtain slightly, and tipped half of the substance, which the spectators guessed was either pee or water masquerading as urine, over the top of Carla's head. Carla jumped as the liquid hit her, but it was semi-comforting because it was warm. The liquid trailed down her hair and back. "Normally, I would get a full bath ready, but we'll see if this works." He stopped pouring when there was about half left.

Carla didn't know if it was pee, but either they got the mixture too right or the person who'd peed it doesn't get enough liquids in them, because it was beginning to reek. She didn't know what to do about it, so did nothing.

"Of course, to take a bath ..." The doctor said, whipping back the curtain with pantomime flair. "... our patient has to be naked!" To shock and rapturous applause, Carla sat there completely in the nude save her white socks and red canvas shoes. Carla gasped and shoved her hands over her small boobs but said nothing.

Carla sat there, staring at the crowd in shock. The plague doctor produced the jar again behind Carla's back and brought it under her chin, so Carla didn't get a proper look at it. "Here, drink up. It'll help." The doctor whispered and brought it to her lips and poured it quickly. "The pee bath didn't seem to work, so let's get her to drink it. It should have the same effect." At first, Carla willingly drunk it until she felt the warmth and fully tasted it before spitting and spilling the rest down her front but not until she drank a few mouthfuls. The crowd acted in mock disgust but were quite obviously enjoying it.

"Well, now look what you've done." The doctor mockingly reprimanded, although Carla felt belittled under the scolding. "You've sprayed the medication down your front. Uhh, there's nothing for it. We'll need a more direct approach."

Carla just sat there, thinking and doing nothing, with her hands covering her chest. Her dick and balls were splayed out in front of her, for everyone to see.

The plague doctor fetched a bucket from the back from the floor and began mixing the contents with one hand, as he stood next to Carla and lectured. "The next cure involves applying directly to the infected area." At which point he slapped something brown on to her face and began covering her face with it. It went up her nose, in her mouth, in her eyes and hair, and down her front. She tried to move her head away, but the doctor always caught her. The crowd began to gag, but Carla couldn't work out why. Then the smell hit her, and she understood now, her face was covered in feces, or hopefully, something pretending to be poo.

Carla began to gag. The plague doctor began again slapping her face trying to get most of it off. "Hmm, let's see if you're cured." The doctor held her face and looked her up and down. "No. I'm surprised. This normally works." The crowd was blatantly staring over Carla's body, not overly worried about the fiction the doctor was trying to create. "Flagellation! Yes, flagellation is the only option, now."

This caused everyone to jump out of their trances except Carla, who again was quietly sobbing, which did nothing but make more of a mess on her face.

Before anyone began to fully process what this meant, the plague doctor lifted her to feet by her shoulder and shoved her to the centre of the room, with her womanhood swinging freely, which got a few hoots. She quickly grabbed it with one hand while still covering her tits with the other. Her head was fallen, staring down, trying to hide her messy face.

"This, of course, has to be self-medicated." The plague doctor told the audience, forcing a short brown leather whip into Carla's hand. Carla just stood there motionless hunched over, her ass on view to the crowd and her front to the plague doctor.