Penny's Correction Ch. 05

Anenagansty is one of many small islands of the British Virgin Islands (BVI) archipelago, and one of the smallest to be inhabited. It is four kilometres long and about two and a half kilometres wide. It has only one small hill that rises to one hundred feet above sea level, otherwise it is relatively flat but with some incredibly lovely empty beaches. It has a small indigenous population of just under 200 people. The main industries are fishing and tourism, with about two hundred visiting the Island during the season. There is a short runway which can take small aircraft from the other islands, and it has a small harbour which is often occupied by visiting yachts.

In the early 1800s the Island was run by an English landowner who, with the help of 80 African slaves, farmed the land producing sugar, tobacco and fruit. From 1807 the British Government made it illegal to take persons into slavery and in 1834 a law was passed that dictated that all existing slaves had to be freed. The farming business, without the slaves to work the land, became unviable and eventually collapsed. There was great poverty initially until tourism was developed in the 1950s when it took over from fishing as the primary source of income to the Islanders.

Mr Obojo Juncata, an imposing well built Afro-Caribbean man, standing six foot three inches, was the President of Anenagansty. On Wednesday 14 April he arrived at the offices of the Wellington Engineering Company with his two large minders in a big black Mercedes at precisely 10.00am. Penny, my wife, met the imposing men at the door and introduced herself as the PA to the CEO. She escorted them to Peter Wellington's office. Peter knew Mr Obojo well having been actively involved in negotiating the substantially engineering contract for the small harbour on Anenagansty. Negotiations were now coming to a close after six months of wrangling. Peter rose from his desk, shook Mr Obojo's hand and gestured for him to take a seat in the large leather armchair. (Penny smiled inwardly wondering what the President's reaction would have been had he seen her on Saturday firmly strapped down naked over the back of that very chair). The two minders were seated on the sofa. Penny took her seat on a hard backed chair ready with her notebook. She was uncomfortable after the beating she had submitted to on the previous Saturday, but she needed to concentrate and take notes carefully at this important meeting.

Mr Obojo spoke in his deep baritone voice: "The terms your company are offering for the harbour engineering contract are very fair, and I am glad to say that they are competitive with those of other engineering companies which we have approached. However there is still the matter of reparation. Firstly Peter, I understand that you are willing to make a donation of £100,000 into the Government Slaves Reparation Fund?"

"Yes," said Peter. He turned to his PA. "Penny, don't take any notes on this part of the discussion." He resumed his conversation with the President. "Should we win the contract we certainly intend to make that donation."

"Well we are very grateful for that, " Mr Obojo was choosing his words carefully, "And it will go a long way in favouring your offer. I think that we are very close to completing the contract." He paused. "But there is one other aspect of reparation which I would like to discuss with you."

"Yes, of course," Peter replied.

"Perhaps it would be best if we discussed this privately."

"Oh. OK. Penny will go and get us some coffee." Penny uncrossed her legs, stood and, with her notebook in her hand, gave Mr Obojo a smile and slight bow as she moved to the door. Mr Obojo was watching her. "We will call you back when we are ready," Peter told her as she left the room. Penny turned and smiled at them.

xxXxx

I was in the sitting room at home using my lap top as Penny returned from work. Her face was flushed and she seemed concerned. I immediately sensed her agitation as I took her jacket. I told her to sit down in the sitting room and went to get her a drink.

Sitting on the sofa beside me with a large gin and tonic now in her hand she told me about the engineering contract Peter was finalising with Mr Obojo. She explained how she had been asked to leave the meeting as Peter and Mr Obojo went on to discuss some sensitive aspect of the contract. She was concerned because, not only was it very odd for her to be excluded during contract negotiations, but Peter had later told her that it was important for him to talk to her this evening, and for me to be included in the discussion. This was all very mysterious she explained, but she had invited Peter for drinks at the house after supper at nine pm, hopefully to explain the situation.

Later that evening, Penny, in a pair of loose fitting informal lounging cotton trousers and a blue polo shirt, and with me in slacks and open neck shirt, welcomed Peter to our house. Having poured him a large whisky and given Penny a further glass of wine we sat down in the sitting room with Peter on the sofa next to Penny and me in an arm chair.

Peter got straight down to the business of the evening. He asked us to hear him out until he had completed his explanation.

Peter took a long sip and started:

"The contract for engineering works to be conducted in the small harbour on the island of Anenagansty was the largest contract that the company had ever negotiated. It was a vital contract for the company and had even attracted the attention of our own government who were giving support. We were nearly there," he explained, "but there were elements of the contract that were still being finalised. Since it affected her and since it could involve some travelling by the three of us he wished to give us as much detail as possible."

"The sticking point as far as the contract was concerned was the matter of reparation for the British involvement in providing slaves to the landowners in the early part of the nineteenth century. It transpired that Mr Obojo's great, great grandmother, Tulip, was the nineteen year old daughter of two slaves who had been brought over to the island on a Dutch ship. They were traded to the English landowner on the Island as was normal practice of the day. As such Tulip was born a slave. Life was not hard for her. As she grew up she had helped with the house work and in the kitchens and, although they were unpaid and confined to the island, the landowner treated them well. She and her fellow slaves were well fed, given reasonable but basic accommodated in shacks on the estate, and were provided with suitable basic clothing. They lead a reasonably hard but happy life on the estate on the island."

"However her peaceful existence was suddenly shattered when she was nineteen. One morning she was carrying out her normal morning tasks, making up the beds upstairs in the master's house. There were five beds to deal with, that of the master and his wife, and those of the four children. She had stripped back the bed of Phillip, the eldest son and as was often the case she noticed a significant stain in the centre of the bottom sheet. 'Master Phillip has had another accident,' she thought to herself. She was busy replacing the sheet with a clean one when she was surprised as Phillip entered the room. Master Phillip, as she knew him, was also nineteen years old but had the build of a man. She had often admired him from a distance, but on this occasion she was concerned as this was the first time she had been in close quarters with him in a room in the house. She was bending over smoothing the bottom sheet when Master Phillip grabbed her waist. He pressed himself against her backside. A brief struggle ensued during which she lashed out with her elbow catching Phillip on the eyebrow which then started to bleed. She managed to get away, ran out of the house and, in panic, hid in a garden hut at the bottom of the garden near the beach."

"She spent the night there and was too frightened to come out. Eventually in the morning she was found. She was terrified. She was accused by the Master of hitting his son. Striking a member of the family was known to be one of the most serious offences a slave could commit. It showed no respect of the Master and his family and it was an abuse of the good will that the Master showed to his slaves."

"She knew that she had done no wrong but she was accused by Phillip of attacking him for no justification. The Master's English wife demanded that she be punished for attacking her eldest son. Tulip knew that she was in deep trouble. She had never been punished before having avoided the cane which was quite liberally used by the overseers and the Master for minor infringements. She tried to plead with her father but, although he was sympathetic to his daughter, there was no way that he could do anything for her. He explained that, although it was unjust, slaves had no option but to follow the Master's direction. He explained as gently as he could, that the Master had told him to take her to the square that night."

"Suddenly she was in absolute dread. When slaves had earned a more serious punishment they were taken to the square. They were placed in the pillory in the centre and made to stay bound in an humiliating position for a couple of hours as an example to others. On the rare occasions when it was warranted for more serious offences they were given a whipping in front of all the other slaves. She shivered in the heat of the evening. They waited. Other slaves, realising that something was afoot, gathered in the square after their evening meal. They talked quietly speculating on what was to occur."

"When the Master and his family came to the square after their meal there was a hush from all the slaves who had gathered there. The Master nodded at the girl's father who stripped her of her dress. As was customary she was naked underneath as very few slaves owned undergarments. The pillory was about three feet off the ground and consisted of three apertures, one for the neck and one for each wrist. Tulip's father lead her to them. She bent over placing her neck and wrists in the grooves. The top bar of the stocks clanged shut holding her firm. She turned and saw the master's wife talking to her husband. From nowhere he had the much dreaded whip in his hand.

She was given ten lashes of the whip from the Master on her back, bottom and thighs. After the whipping the family went back to the house and she was left humiliatingly naked in the stocks with her mutilated back and backside on show for all to see. A few hours later the Master returned, this time without his wife. He spoke to a slave who was in the square, who ran off. The Master took down his trousers in front of her. She had never seen a white man's penis before and was mesmerised looking at it in the half light. The slave returned carrying a plastic bottle and he squirted a dollop of palm oil on her vagina. The Master smoothed the oil over her backside, thighs and vagina. Tulip was agitated. She knew what was likely to follow and she was confused as she felt herself getting aroused. She felt the moisture easing out of her vulva. She watched as he took his cock in his hand. He then raped her.

"An hour later Master Phillip, the son, appeared. He told one of the other slaves to get the whip. He wanted to match his father. She was then given a further ten lashes. It later transpired that his father, knowing that his son had not been with a woman before, encouraged the lad to take the opportunity to whip her further and take her. He was clumsy, but his penis was sufficiently rigid to find its mark and penetrate her vagina, which was still covered in grease and leaking the globules of semen from his father She thought that would be the end of it other than the humiliation of being exposed naked and used to all the other villagers. But later that night she was raped by three officers of a British warship which was in the harbour.

As was the custom after a punishment whipping she was released from her bonds at midnight and returned to her family hut. From then on she was often in the line of fire of the cane when it was being wielded for minor infractions by the Master or his son both of whom seemed to take delight in seeking her out for punishment."

Peter stopped and took a sip of his drink. We were all dumbfounded. "Wow," I said. "That is quite a story."

"How awful," said Penny.

I took a drink then went on: "But all that was a long time ago." I paused. "In any case, what has all this to do with the contract you are negotiating in the harbour?" I asked.

Peter looked at me. "Mr Obojo wants reparation. He has said that there must be appropriate retribution for the terribly degrading experience Tulip the slave had suffered."

"But.... I... er... don't understand. Surely you have offered financial compensation? Is it not enough?"

Peter looked solemn. ""Yes, it is enough. But Mr Obojo wants more. He wants other reparation."

Penny turned to Peter. "What do you mean? What other reparation?" she asked.

Peter replied: "He told me that it had been incredibly demeaning for his great great grandmother to have been treated in the way that she had been by her English Master and his son. He said that perhaps, as part of the reparation there should be a reciprocal gesture."

"I don't understand," I said.

Peter looked me in the eye. "Mr Obojo suggested that proper reparation would be achieved if a white Anglo-Saxon English woman was dealt with in a similar manner as his great-great-grandmother had been. That would be the only way that true compensation could seen by the Islanders to have been achieved."

I looked at Penny sitting beside Peter. She gulped otherwise remaining silent and twisting her hands in her lap. She looked at the floor, breathing deeply. What was she thinking?

"Oh, God. That's nonsense. It wouldn't be allowed." I said.

Peter replied. "Well. It is a small Island. Although the BVI are ruled from the main island the smaller islands have devolved powers for internal matters. Mr Obojo is the president and he controls every day life. He is answerable to no one. Even the police and the judiciary are under his control. Regardless, the small Afro-Caribbean population, having evolved from those slaves of many years ago, would, as Mr Obojo had explained, be fully sympathetic to his wishes."

"If this was to happen what would happen to this woman?" I asked.

Penny turned to me and looked into my eyes. "Do you need to ask?"

"Oh God. That could not happen in this day and age. Anyway they would never find a woman who would subject herself to something that terrifying."

The seed had been planted. Penny squirmed in her seat feeling the pins and needles in her bottom and the pulse in her pussy lips. She felt the wetness of her vulva. How would it feel to be a young slave in those far off days punished by those strong white Masters.

She couldn't possibly allow these thoughts to be known to her husband and boss. No, she really could not contemplate such thoughts. She noticeably shivered. Peter detected it though and raised an eyebrow.

Peter continued looking at Penny: "Mr Obojo and I discussed it hypothetically. He asked me if it would be possible to find a suitable English lady. He said that he would want to meet her before any decision was made."

We were silent for a whole minute. Penny spoke first suggesting that I replenish the drinks. I stood and took the three glasses out to the kitchen.

While out of the room my thoughts wandered. Peter had previously beaten my wife hard with a cane. She had wanted that and had gone to his office with me a second time knowing that she would be beaten again to receive the strap and strokes of the cane. He knew better than anyone what she was capable of taking. Although I was Penny's husband, I was not her Master. Peter fulfilled that role. Would he have told Mr Obojo of Penny's willingness to take punishment? My cock was reacting. God, I had witnessed her beatings and had enjoyed seeing her marked with the cane. What if my Penny wanted to go along with this madness, would I agree? My lovely, delicate (but masochistic) wife ordered by Peter to be whipped by a half naked black man? Oh my God! My cock kicked up hard.

When I returned with a tray holding the three, now replenished, glasses Penny and Peter were talking avidly. The stopped talking as I entered. I noticed that Penny was somewhat flushed and was decidedly nervous. What had they been discussing?

I stood in front of them both. "All this is absolute nonsense. This Obojo man is in cloud cookoo land if he thinks that an English woman would subject herself to whatever he has in mind."

"Anyway," said Peter, "there is no rush as the contract will not be finalised for another couple of weeks. You know how slowly it goes when the lawyers are brought in to look over the final parts."

The matter was left to rest and after a further quarter of an hour of chat while he finished his drink Peter left us.

But it left Penny and me with a lot of private thoughts. Strangely, probably because of our opposing thoughts and acute discomfort, we did not discuss them further.

xxXxx

I met Peter as arranged in the bar of the tennis club without Penny's knowledge. After picking up our pints we went to a table in a quiet corner.

"Peter, what I say to you now is in utmost confidence." I took a sip of my beer. "It is hard for me to talk to you about Penny's and my personal relationship but we have got to know you very well. Almost too well!" I laughed.

"Yes, she is a wonderful girl, and I know that you love her dearly. Of course I appreciate the times that I have been with her but I also respect that your marriage is precious to you both," he responded.

"Yes, you are right." I leant forward to speak quietly. "Peter, it is difficult for me to say this but I have come to realise that you are not only Penny's employer, but you are also her Master which is a position that I can never have in her life. I accept that you probably have a better understanding of her desires and needs than I do. You now know from our visits to your office that Penny has this urgent desire to suffer pain and humiliation. She loves the build up and then the actual disgrace of being punished and revels in the sensation of the pain that follows." I paused. We took a sip from our glass. "I have to tell you that she loved those Saturday visits to your office. But you know that I can not give her what she wants. I am not into inflicting pain on her."

I stopped talking. He looked at me.

"So, are you telling me that you want her to go along with it?"

"Well, as you are her Master in these matters, I think that you ought to decide."

"You do know that in all probability they would want to whip her?"

"Yes. I understand that. I saw her reaction when you caned her. It certainly changed our sex lives. Do you think that she would want to take a whipping?"

"John, you have obviously given this some careful thought. A whip is very different from a cane. It depends on the whip but it can be less damaging."

"Well if she was to be whipped perhaps a caning should be included to make sure." I suggested.

"Yes, good thinking. Don't forget that that poor slave girl was also raped by the white masters and mariners," he said.

"Yes, I know. It was terrible for her. But maybe...."

Peter interrupted me: "Look, leave it to me. I will discuss it with Mr Obojo and make sure that it will be a meaningful occasion."

xxXxx

Three weeks later Penny and I were lying in bed on a Saturday morning. We were planning a quiet day at home with no major commitments. I had woken with an impressive erection and had woken my wife as I gently eased her thighs open ready for my pending access. After the deed was done we laid together in post coital bliss. Penny ran her hand over my chest when she said: "Peter has asked us to attend a working dinner on Wednesday."