Penny's Correction Ch. 05

"Oh!" For the second time that day Penny gave a nervous smile.

On the short flight Penny's heart was thumping in her chest. What would happen to her. Would they really want retribution to be as awful as their ancestors had suffered? She was breathing deeply as the tension mounted. Her nipples hardened beneath her bra and she felt the moisture beginning between her labia.

She grabbed my hand. Peter, in the seat in front, was looking forward. It was only a ten minute flight in the small inter-island aircraft.

"Are you excited?" I asked her. She pressed my hand into her crotch.

"Oh my God. This is so terrifying.". She whispered. Her hand went to my cock; my hand remained on her covered mound. "Rub me hard," she told me.

"What ever happens, I love you." I told her pushing my hand into her body firmly.

As we taxied after landing I noticed three black police officers in uniform on the tarmac. The small gangway was fixed and, as we disembarked two of the policemen came forward to the steps. The three other passengers proceeded to the only building, a large single story run down looking shack, which appeared to be the main airport building. One of the policemen was obviously a senior officer judging by the silver badges of rank on his epaulettes and the long officers' swagger stick under his arm. He introduced himself as Chief Superintendent Hamed Barriba, the Chief of Police on the Island. The other man appeared to be a constable. Together they escorted us into the building leaving the third policemen outside encouraging the two tourists into a taxi and on their way. Once inside the small scruffy arrivals hall, Chief Barriba turned to Penny. He told her that she was now under his jurisdiction and under arrest for sedition. He explained that from now on she was to be treated exactly like their slave forefathers had been treated. She was to be respectful to all the locals on the island and she was to call the men 'Master'. He took a garment from the constable and showed it to her, explaining that it was what slave girls had worn in the past. It would be necessary for her to change before we left the airport. He opened a door in the wall labelled "No Admittance. BVI Customs' Search."

"You can use this room to change," he told her indicating the small bare room measuring about twelve feet by twelve and containing just a table and hard backed chair.

"You will not need your hand bag so leave that with your husband," he added.

I went to join my wife in the room but was told by Chief Barriba that she would manage by herself. "OK, put all your clothes in the bag which is on the table." he told her. As Penny turned to go into the room he handed her the dress. He licked his lips and smiled for the first time as he added: "You will need to be naked under the dress just like all our ancestors were when they were slaves of the white men here." He smiled at Peter and me.

My heart pumped in my chest. God, who would ever believe this. They were certainly taking this seriously, I thought to myself.

Penny entered the small room and closed the door. She was alone. She shivered, although it was 32 degrees in the building. She bent down and lifted the kaftan up over her head. She placed it in the bag. She paused. 'Naked' he had said. She removed her bra and pants placing them in the bag. She was now naked. She paused as she tried to control her laboured breathing, causing her breasts to inflate.

The garment which she had been given turned out to be a very simple sleeveless dress made of brown linen. Having slipped it over her head Penny noticed that it had a V neck line, no sleeves, but with simple straps over the shoulders holding it up. There was no zip and no buttons. It was basically a sack like dress, very loose and airy, which made it cool. It rested just above the knees. It was quite thin which was a godsend in the heat, but it was somewhat rough on her skin. Penny was surprised to feel excitement as the dress rubbed against her very bare, but now protruding, nipples and her naked bottom. The materiel slipped across her skin as she moved. She felt the moisture rising in her vulva. God, she was actually aroused just by changing her clothes. The thought of wearing this unflattering but simple slave dress as she left the airport excited her even more. It brought it home to her that Mr Obojo was taking this matter very seriously. She wanted to go to the loo. But dared not ask. The whole situation was somewhat bizarre; her heart was thumping hard in her chest. 'Oh well, better get on with it,' she thought to herself. She opened the door and stood in front of the four men, breathing deeply.

I could see that the dress was certainly no 'Louis Vuitton.' It was plain and simple. It hung on Penny's frame loosely giving her a sexy yet childlike appearance. The hint of nakedness beneath, encouraged by the bounce of her breasts and the exposure of them through the loose V and the open sides, was particularly alluring. Her excited and hard nipples punched through the light materiel. Her breasts rose and lowered with her laboured breathing. She looked vulnerable and absolutely adorable.

"You need not worry as you will not be seen by any of the tourists here. My men have cleared the village area of all tourists." Chief Barriba informed us. "Give the bag of clothes to your husband and we will walk to the market square. It is about half a mile from here."

Penny passed the bag containing her clothes to me.

The five of us, lead by Chief Barriba, followed by and Penny, with a constable on either side of her, then Peter and me, walked up the paved narrow lane towards the village square.

We saw no tourists as the Chief had rightly informed us, but we did periodically come across some local people. One large black man called out "Good afternoon, Missy." Penny looked down to the ground and said nothing.

Chief Barriba turned and gave Penny a whack on her backside from his swagger stick. "Tell him Good afternoon. Say sorry and call him Master." He told her.

"Good afternoon Master. Sorry not to have answered you, Master." Penny replied. The Chief Barriba gave her another slap with his stick. Penny exclaimed: "Oww."

We arrived in the small market square. It was about 30 by 20 metres surrounded by open fronted shacks which were normally used as market stalls. On one corner there was an open bar. Although covered by a roof of palms, the bar itself, surrounded by small tables and chairs was open on three of its four sides. There were about thirty Afro-Caribbean locals, mostly men, in the square talking amongst themselves, but watching us as we entered. Some were at the bar drinking beer or rum. Penny, Peter and I were the only white people there.

The most prominent object in the square, which immediately attracted the attention of anyone entering, was the pillory. On a raised platform, three feet above the ground and in the middle of the square, it couldn't be ignored. Penny had noticed it as she entered the square and her steps had visibly faltered, requiring one of the policeman to support her by her arm.

The pillory, made of sturdy wood, was typical of similar pieces often seen in museums. There were the standard three orifices to hold the offender's neck and wrists and a solid bar over the top to secure both parts. The top of it was a further three feet above the base. I wondered if it was the same one that had held Tulip those many years ago.

Penny, between the two policemen, was taken to the raised stage. She was composed standing upright and proud. Her face was a bit flushed and she was breathing deeply, but otherwise she maintained the stature of a very beautiful, noble and serene woman. She watched with full attention as Mr Obojo entered the square accompanied by three other officials. They looked sombre as they joined her on the stage.

I gasped when I saw it. Peter heard me and looked in the direction that I was facing. Once again Penny nearly collapsed as she saw it. One of the officials was holding a whip.

I couldn't take my eyes off it. This was the instrument that was shortly to punish my wife. I felt weak and a bit overawed imagining it being wielded by an Afro-Caribbean man and striking my wife's white skin. The sturdy handle, made of black leather, was about one and half inches in diameter and about ten inches long; a good size for a firm grip, or perhaps some other activity. From this the leather continued for a further ten inches tapering to about a quarter of an inch diameter at the end. Continuing from this there were eight or nine leather strips, each extending another twelve inches. It was certainly an effective looking instrument. It was not like a bull whip which could impose intolerable damage, but certainly still an effective instrument of correction for which it was designed.

There was now complete silence from the people in the square. Penny looked out at the sea of black faces. Mr Obojo spoke in a loud clear baritone voice:

"Slave Penny. We welcome you to our Island. We are pleased to welcome a brave and honourable white English woman, who is willing to put herself in a position to atone for the sins of the past English masters. Thank you for your presence." He smiled at Penny who smiled back nervously. She was noticeably shivering as she watched him. The policemen on either side held her. With her upper arms firmly restrained her breasts under the dress were well defined as they rose and fell with her heavy breathing. I could easily make out her nipples which meant that the thirty or so others in the square probably could as well.

He continued: "The programme of reparation is simple. You are a mature woman nearly twice the age of the young Tulip when she was wrongly punished here in this very square nearly two hundred years ago by her white masters." He paused and looked at Peter and me. "Because of your maturity you will be subjected to double the punishment she received on the day that she was abused." There was a murmur from the small crowd of onlookers. "You will therefore be beaten with the whip forty times...." Penny nearly collapsed and had to be held up by the two policemen. The crowd was murmuring excitedly; loudly enough to interrupt the President. After a few moments the crowd quietened. He continued:

"As this is would be considered a serious punishment even a hundred and fifty years ago, the strokes of the whip will be delivered in two batches of twenty. This will allow you to recompose yourself during the punishment." He paused and the crowd seemed to express their agreement. Mr Obojo continued: "Because of the injustice and indignity that Tulip suffered as a result of several canings given to her by the overseers and the Master and his son before slavery was outlawed you will also, like her, be caned." The crowd murmured. "There is no record of the number of times she was beaten with the cane. So, you will receive a further forty strokes of the cane similar to the one used on her." This time it was me who gasped as I remembered the conversation I had had with Peter in the tennis club back in England. But Penny also reacted again, almost collapsing between the two policemen. Many of the crowd clapped their hands with glee as there was further very loud animated discussion. Peter and I looked at each other in shock. He smiled at me. Neither of us could now save Penny from the path the three of us had taken.

Chief Barriba called for hush. Mr Obojo continued: "The slave girl Tulip, who had had no previous experience of intercourse, was raped by five Englishmen while she was restrained here those many years ago." Penny looked to me and held my eye. She shivered, then quickly turned her attention to Mr Obojo again. "Since you are a married woman with substantial sexual experience it will not be as difficult for you to accept sexual penetration. It will not therefore surprise you to hear that we intend to double the number of men who raped Tulip. Ten chosen men from the old slave families will take their pleasure from you." There was now an uproar of approval from the crowd with much excited talking and laughter. Once the crowd had quietened Mr Obojo continued: "You will service the needs of three of our men during each break between the floggings. It is now just after eight pm and, as is the established tradition, all punishment will cease at midnight and you will be released. We have four hours to complete four sets of floggings and the pleasuring of the ten men. Once you have taken the beatings and accepted the coupling of our men, reparations for the whipping and rape of Tulip will have been made and you will be free. Chief of police...." He called.

"Yes, sir," replied Chief Barriba.

"Prepare her."

Up until now I had had only the occasional minor sexual reaction as I watched my wife standing and listening to the words of The President of the Island. My mind was more in shock than in any other state. But now things changed.

Chief Barriba signalled the two constables who lead my wife to the pillory. They stood on either side of her as they hoisted Penny's crude slave dress over her head leaving her naked in front of the Island's men in the square. Her natural reaction was to to cover her pussy with both hands but suddenly she changed her mind. She moved her hands to her side. The policemen now held her by the upper arms and she stood proud. She pushed her breast out showing her nipples, which were more prominent then I had ever seen them. She stood there proud for several minutes for the crowd to admire. I knew from her stance that she was enjoying exhibiting herself.

On Chief Barriba's command they opened up the top bar of pillory. Her head and hands were placed in the grooves and the top of the stock was clanged shut completely restraining her upper body.

She was now naked in the position that they wanted. Bent over from the waist, with her breasts dangling below her torso, her bottom was pushed back and completely exposed. Penny knew that she was in the ideal position to be whipped on her back, bottom and thighs and that her vulva and anus were not only in full view but also available and ready for any of those black men who were at this moment staring at her. God, she thought. She was going to be whipped and raped. And not by one or two men. What had he said? Ten? She gave a deep shudder, feeling the wetness in her vagina and feeling the desire building up in her loins. And that whip! God in heaven! She was so aroused. She really wanted to let go. She desperately need to orgasm. But there was no means for her to have physical stimulation.

Peter and I were only ten feet from the stage. Chief Barriba stepped towards us with the whip which was now in his hand. The onlookers were silent. Chief Barriba told us that if the events which were to follow were likely to be too problematic he would arrange for us to be escorted out of the square to the villa. He said that it would be best for us to depart now.

Peter said that he wanted to stay. I said that I would stay also. "Very well," he said.

The police chief went up to the stage, said a couple of words to Penny, lifted the whip and without pause slashed the skin on her back. Fingers of red appeared where the strips of the whip cut into her skin. Penny screamed. He rose his arm and struck again. Penny shrieked in agony again, but before she had time to recover a third stroke was delivered. The strokes were now laid on continually on her back and buttocks as Penny screamed and wriggled. On the sixteenth stroke Penny suddenly let go a stream of urine which flowed from her on to the ground.

The twentieth stroke landed. Both the Chief Barriba and Penny were exhausted. The policeman stood back. Penny's back and buttocks were covered with red stripes from the whip, many of them interlacing each other. There was silence from the spectators. But Penny didn't have to wait long. She was whimpering in her stocks moving her body from side to side as one of the onlookers came forward with a plastic bottle. Mr Obojo walked up to the stage, poured some oil from the bottle on to his hands and smeared it on Penny's backside. He repeated this between her legs and a third dolloping on her thighs. He took his time smearing the oil over her skin which was now taking on a shiny appearance in the half light. Penny was wriggling in her bindings but was moaning as Mr Obojo attended to her. She was shortly highly charged. He was breathing deeply.

The President unbuckled his trousers and dropped them exposing a substantial tool which was hard and ready for use. He smeared some of the oil on his penis. He approached my lovely wife who was still squirming with arousal. With little ceremony and no foreplay he held her thighs still and prodded the lips of my wife's vulva with his eight inch cock. Prod, prod, prod. Suddenly it was accommodated. Then fully home. Penny cried out. He then shafted her with vigour. It took Mr Obojo ten minutes to complete his task. He came with a shudder, extracted his cock, slapped Penny's buttock and left her.

Penny was moving from side to side as much as her restraints would allow with liquid slowly oozing down her legs as Chief Arriba approached from behind with his hard cock exposed in his hand. He wasted no time before taking the correct position and eased his shaft into her. As he was performing a third man, tall and naked from the waist down, stood behind him patiently waiting his turn. His outlandish cock was big, not huge, just big. But I knew that Penny would be able to take it. Penny was moaning in rapture as the Chief of Police rammed her.

The third man had difficulty with the insertion. He needed more oil, but with some effort and manoeuvring he managed at last to penetrate my wife's vagina. He pumped and pushed and pulled for a good fifteen minutes before he stood still, clenched his muscles and, with a shriek, ejaculated inside her. As he disengaged a stream of goo oozed out of Penny's pubis and trickled down her leg.

Mr Obojo informed us that there would be a pause in the proceedings with the next whipping due to start on the hour in a further twenty minutes. Peter went to the bar where there was a good number of men drinking beer. I was shaking with nerves as I approached my wife. I gently brushed her hair out of her eyes with my hand then bent down and kissed her cheek. Her back and buttocks were covered in the red marks from the whip. Luckily none of the strokes had appeared to break the skin. Although painful there was no serious damage. Her body was glistening with sweat and from the oil, and there was more liquid coming out of her vagina. "Are you OK?"

"Yes, John. I am OK. The whipping is terrible."

"We could stop it," I told her, not really believing that I could.

"No, a deal is a deal. I think that I can take it. The reparation must be paid."

"Oh, darling. I am so proud of you." I told her. I kissed her again.

Shortly the hour was up and Chief Orriba called another policeman forward to take up the whip.

Before leaving her she called out to me. "Darling,"

"Yes, I replied."

"Stay here and watch. I want you here. Is Peter with you?"

"Yes, he is." She smiled as I turned and left the stage.

The policeman was left haded and stood on the other side of Penny as he got into the best position to carry out the punishment. He started to whip her.

He wasn't putting as much effort into it as Chief Barriba had and Penny was making less noise as the whip landed. On the eighth stroke it appeared as if Penny was lifting her bottom up by raising herself on to tip toes in time with the strokes. She appeared to rise to welcome the next strike. She looked to her left and saw Peter and me. Two white faces among the sea of black ones. This seemed to inspire her. She lifted her backside up before each of the ninth, tenth and eleventh strokes. She and the man whipping her seemed to be synchronising. On the fifteenth stroke Penny looked me in eye, then closed her eyes and shuddered. She raised her buttocks as high as she was able and as the sixteenth stroke landed she cried out. She squirted a secretion out of her pussy, which added to the dribble already excreting down her thighs. I knew from her shuddering that she had had an enormous organism.