Punished in the Courtyard

The numerous potholes in the dusty road bounced the van around widely as it sped toward its destination, each jolt reverberating cruelly through the two women lying bound and hooded on the floor in the back. Though both were still -- a lesson instilled in them very early in the trip by the rough slaps of the guards that flanked them - their minds were running over time trying to think of a reason for their current predicament.

Michelle was an aid worker, sent by her NGO to do an assessment on the plight of the thousands of people displaced by civil war during the military coup a few months ago. Lying next to her in the van was her daughter, Jessica, who'd taken a leave of absence from reading for a degree in foreign affairs to get some practical experience in the real world. She'd jumped at the chance to follow her mother on an assignment abroad, only now that didn't seem the great idea that it had at the time. They'd only landed in the capital this morning and had been travelling by dilapidated bus to a small town a few hundred kilometres away when, without warning, two vans had pulled the bus over and armed men had stormed on board, grabbed the only whites from their seats at the back, and hauled them outside and into one of the vans. Once inside, their protests had been silenced with vicious slaps to the face before large strips of tape had been plied over their mouths and a hood placed over their heads. Flipped on their fronts, the women's arms had been pulled behind them and their wrists bound with cable tie before the same was done to their ankles.

The van carrying the women pulled up at the gates of an isolated property, before being waived through by men with automatic weapons after only a cursory glance at the driver's papers. The building itself was square and built around a central courtyard. A high brick wall surrounded the grounds and more men with heavyset weaponry patrolled the complex. Meandering up the long driveway, the van pulled up to a side entrance and reversed backward so that it's rear doors opened onto a low-level loading bay. As soon as the handbrake was applied, men ran down from the building itself and, wrenching open the doors, hauled the two women to their feet and marched them inside after cutting the cable ties that bound their legs and pulling the hoods from the heads.

Pushed forward roughly, Michelle and Jessica were propelled down a long, bleak corridor, their eyes widening with fear as they took in the rows of cells that flanked them on both sides. The majority of the cells were empty, but female prisoners occupied a few. Most of whom weren't just incarcerated, the women noted with increasing horror, but were bound either to the bars or to hooks and eyelets in the walls or ceiling. All were completely naked and red markings were clearly visible down their backs and across their buttocks and thighs.

Halfway down the corridor, Michelle was stopped in front of a solid oak door and the guards holding her knocked solidly. The remaining two guards continued onwards, escorting Jessica further down the hall, ignoring the muffled cries of protest from the mother behind the gag and her futile attempts to escape the grip of her guards as she tried to protect her daughter who was now disappearing round a corner.

In front of the Michelle, the door was opened from the inside and a uniformed man motioned for them to enter. It was an office of sorts, but only a soft leather chair behind a sturdy wooden desk was the room's only concession to such. To the right of the table, a small metal bed was pushed against the corner, handcuffs adorning all four bedposts and hanging interlocked against the bars of the headboard, all open and ready. On the other wall, metal rings stuck out from the brick, and a pair of wrist cuffs dangled menacingly from the ceiling nearby. Next to these on the floor was an umbrella stand, completely devoid of umbrellas, but with an assortment of bamboo canes, whips, and spanking paddles clearly visible inside. Surprisingly, Michelle noted, there was no far wall. Instead, metal bars ran from floor to ceiling providing a clear view of the dusty courtyard outside.

Michelle had stopped dead in disbelief at the sight before her but now one of the guards shoved her roughly inside and closed the door behind her. The door clicked shut ominously, trapping the charity worker alone inside with the man in front of her.

"So, Michelle," the uniformed man spoke for the first time. "Do you know why you are here?" Michelle shook her head violently, shocked that he knew her name, and the man chuckled. "Forgive me," he smiled, and reached forward and removed the tape covering her mouth in one quick movement causing his captive to gasp with the sting. He then reached around her back and sawed through the cable ties pinning her wrists with a Swiss knife taken from his pocket.

"No, I, please," Michelle began. "My daughter and I, we, we're aid workers on our way to Khatari. We're with the IFHA, please."

The man's gaze hardened. "Do not take us for fools," he snapped. "You are here to spread dissent at the behest of some American agency. I want to know which one."

"No!" Michelle cried, almost sobbing with frustration and fear. "I'm with the IFAW, my daughter is with us too. That's all, I swear. Where is she? Please let me see her!"

"Michelle. We have here papers written by your daughter, this Jessica," he practically spat the name, "at Colombia." He threw four or five small manuscripts on the desk in front of him. "She writes scathingly about our President, our government, our politics. She must get these views from somewhere. From you, I believe. Now tell me why you are here or things will get unpleasant for you both."

Michelle looked down at the papers now strewn across the tables and read some of the titles, each clearly criticising the country in which they now found themselves captive. Under each biting title, Michelle read the small tell tail byline: "by Jessica Ryan". Overwhelming understand came over her and she closed her eyes silently berating her daughter for being so stupid. Michelle had no idea that Jessica had authored anything on the country as part of her schoolwork, but realised now that they were now about to pay a heavy price for her oversight. These men would want their pound of flesh for what they would see as yet another slap in the face from Westerners over-anxious to put down their nation in the eyes of the world.

Michelle lifted her eyes from the papers and pleaded with the man before her. "Please, I had no idea. She's young and.." Without warning the man backhanded her across the face causing her to cry out with the unexpected blow.

"You will tell me what I want to know," his face was a sea of rage. Quietly he turned away from his prisoner and walked to the bars at the end of the cell. Facing to his right, he gestured to somebody on the side of the courtyard with a wave of his hand and a slight nod and then turned back to Michelle. "Look outside please."

Hesitantly Michelle approached the bars and then gasped with horror. Two men were leading Jessica to the centre of the courtyard. She was struggling and tears ran down her face. Someone had obviously cut her free of her restraints, but the guards held her easily by the arms and dragged her forward. A third guard met them in the middle, pushing before him a wooden contraption on small retractable wheels. Michelle's eyes widened to saucers as she recognised the pillory for what it was. She watched in a trace as the stocks were turned so that they faced off to the side, and the guard pulled up the top section so that it swung fully open on its iron hinge. One of the guards holding Jessica grabbed her tightly by the scruff of her neck and forced her head down into the centre of the wide groove. The girl's hand flung up to her head to try and dislodge his grip but the African held on tight. The second guard then moved to the far side of the medieval device and clamped his hands around her wrists, removing them from around his partner's arm and holding them tightly in place inside the smaller holes either side of the head. Whilst Jessica was manually restrained, the top section was lowered again, trapping the wrists and head of the young American, and was firmly locked in place by virtue of a huge rusted padlock. The girl was now bent double at the waist, her head almost level with her hips, and her neck and wrists held immobile by the thick oak.

Inside the cell, Michelle spun to face her jailer. "No! Please, I'm begging you. I'm telling you the truth. She shouldn't have written these things," she motioned to the papers with her head, "but we really are here to help your people. There's nothing more," she sobbed. "Please just let us go."

"Enough lies!" the man shouted. "You will see the price of your stubbornness." Turning back to the men outside, he gave another slight nod and the three men surrounding Jessica sprung into action. One crouched down and began to remove her trainers, while a second took a knife from his belt and, hooking the blade under the collar of her plain white t-shirt, tore it down her back in one smooth motion, exposing the bra underneath. Using the knife to cut through the rear strap he then moved to Jessica's shoulders, ripping the remains of the t-shirt and the now redundant bra completely from the bound girl. Then he walked away back the way he'd come. At her feet however, the two others struggled to remove her faded blue jeans from around her ankles, her panties already pooled around her feet with the rough denim. "Lift," one of the guards instructed, tapping her ankles, but Jessica didn't move until the second man reached up and slapped her hard on her naked flank, eliciting a small shriek from the still-gagged Jessica and a cry of protest from her mother who gripped the bars of her cell with outrage and fear for her child nearby.

"Stop!" Michelle screamed through the bars, but the guards paid her no heed and the woman paled when she saw the missing guard return with a long whip similar to the one that sat in the stand in the corner of her own cell. Slowly, he moved around the bent girl, trailing his finger gently over her naked flesh. Jessica's head turned angrily from him when he brushed a strand of her hair from her cheek and the guard smiled. Moving behind the girl, the guard patted her bottom tenderly before stepping back and allowing the whip to uncoil from his hand. While Jessica was unable to see behind her, Michelle saw the several strands of leather untangle from each other and hang poised to strike her darling girl.

"It will hurt," the man behind Michelle said offhandedly. "And she is young. It will be interesting to see what she can take." As he spoke, the guard brandishing the whip raised back his hand and Michelle watched with dismay as the leather tentacles streaked through the air and landed without mercy on her daughter's naked buttocks.

Hearing her mother's cry nearby, Jessica turned her head to the left and was able to spot her gripping the bars of a cell built into the wall of the courtyard. The sound of desperation in her voice was unmistakable and Jessica grunted in frustration at not being able to call out to her due to the tape over her own mouth. Fighting back more tears, the girl rocked her head trying to break free of the cruel device that held her, humiliated and ashamed and being bared so publically in this this African Hell. Unable to see behind her, it wasn't until she heard the light whoosh of air behind her and felt the pain of a thousand bee stings on her ass that she realised the true reason for her mother's undisguised alarm and she screamed incoherently behind her gag with shock and the pain of the blow.

As the leather strands landed on her tender flesh a second time, Jessica couldn't help but fling herself forward in an attempt to escape the searing pain and her shoulders slammed into the wood holding her in place. The third strike caught some of her upper thighs and caused her knees to buckle slightly as she begged for them to stop behind her gag. Tears streamed down her face and already the pain was seemingly unbearable but there was nothing she could do to avoid the fourth strike, and then the fifth, each new lash causing deep red lines to appear which crisscrossed her naked buttocks and thighs.

As the whip bit into her helpless daughter for the third time, Michelle tightened her grip on the bars until her knuckles went white at the strain. As she begged the men to stop their assault, Michelle felt her captor move up against her and place his hands on her hips and move his mouth to her ear. "I can make them go easy on her," he whispered. "If you give me a reason to," and she felt his hands slide under her t-shirt and over her smooth stomach.

Michelle watched in slow motion as the whip stung Jessica for the fourth time, sending the girl to her tiptoes and forcing yet another tortured cry from behind the tape. At the bars, Michelle's shoulders slumped. "What do you want?" Although she knew with absolute certainty what the answer would be.

He stepped back. "Take off your clothes." Before him the woman hesitated. "It will only get worse for your daughter if you wait," he admonished. Watching the man outside raise his arm again, Michelle knew this was true and she turned to face the man. Gripping the base of her t-shirt she lifted her arms and pulled the cheap fabric over her head, revealing her generous breasts encased in a functional white bra. Reaching behind her, she unclasped the straps of the bra and, shaking her shoulders slightly, allowed it to fall from her body into her hands. Trembling slightly despite the warmth, she dropped the bra on the floor next to her shirt and lifted her feet one by one to remove her trainers and socks. Spurned on by the continued cries of anguish behind her in the courtyard and the nod of her captor, the woman undid the button of her jeans and slid them slowly down her thighs to her ankles. Stepping out of them and kicking them to the side to join the rest of her clothing, she stood for a moment dressed only in her panties before steeling herself and sliding them down and off.

The officer appraised her slowly and Michelle forced herself to leave her arms at her sides, not willing to antagonise him for the sake of her daughter. Finally he smiled as if pleased, and called out something to the guards outside in the courtyard in his native tongue. Michelle turned to see what he'd instructed and was relieved to see the men acknowledge the call and, with only a parting swipe with the whip, turn and walk away from the bound Jessica. Even though she was turned to the side and a short distance away, Michelle could easily see angry welts marring her daughter's beautiful skin and the unnatural red glow of her whole backside.

"Thank you for stopping them," Michelle whispered, and her jailor smiled again.

"They can just as easily return, remember that," he replied, and stepped forward, kissing her roughly on the mouth. Parting her lips slightly at the insistence of his tongue, Michelle felt them forced wider apart as he slid it further into her mouth and sought out her tongue with his own. Large hands gripped her naked buttocks and pulled her into him so that she could feel his arousal pressing into her belly through his trousers. While one hand kneaded her ass, the second snaked up her back and pulled her closer still so that her breasts were crushed into his chest. As the kiss continued, Michelle felt the hand on her back move higher up her naked body and then both hands were on her shoulders pushing her gently downward until she sank to her knees in front of him.

Once she was kneeling, the man's hands reached down and freed his manhood from his trousers so that the erect member hung just in front of Michelle's face. Taking just a moment to look back round at her daughter still trapped in the pillory outside, Michelle reached up and wrapped her hand around the shaft and tugged gently twice before slowly taking the head into her mouth. The man groaned with pleasure as her tongue touched the tip of his penis, her hand continuing to stimulate him as she gently rocked her head in time to the ministrations of her palm. Above her, the officer was already making soft guttural sounds and his hands found their way into her hair, gripping it tightly and forcing her deeper onto his shaft as his began to move his hips to increase the penetration.

They stayed like that for a full minute, her captor pushing himself into her mouth, deep enough that she felt uncomfortable but not so far that it initiated her gag reflex. Suddenly, Michelle was painfully hauled to her feet by her hair and without further preamble was shoved roughly backwards against the desk so that as she stood the edge of the table dug into the backs of her thighs. Holding her hands to prevent her resisting, the man pushed her down backwards onto the desk by her chest so that she was lying on her back with her feet lifted off the floor. Afraid to resist, Michelle rested her head on the table and closed her eyes as the African stepped quickly between her legs and ran his hand down her naked front for the first time and cupped her breasts with undisguised lust. Bending forward to take both nipples briefly in his mouth, he stood erect again and, grabbing her hips, pulled the girl to him so that her ass was rested on the edge of the wood, her womanhood fully exposed and available to him.

"Watch me slide into you," he growled and slapped one of Michelle's breasts with his open palm to enforce his instruction. Resigned to follow his instructions, Michelle shifted her weight onto her elbows allowing her to peer down over her bare breasts and stomach to between her thighs where the man's dick was already poised, his trousers now in a heap around his ankles. Giving her a brief smile, the jailor leant forward almost an imperceptible amount but enough so that the head of his manhood just parted the lips of her pussy, eliciting a groan of despair from the woman on the desk as he dragged out her humiliation. Glancing at her again to make sure she was still watching, he moved forward further so that his shaft slowly began sinking inside the woman.

The smack on her breast stung, but it paled in comparison to the shame Michelle felt as she watched helplessly as the guard's penis slowly entered her. The man was taking his time, clearly relishing her submission, and once the head was clearly buried he withdrew it almost all the way out in order to repeat the process again. He controlled the speed primarily with his hips, allowing his hands to roam over her breasts and belly, his fingers digging cruelly into her soft flesh, using her for his pleasure only. Groping her freely, his fingers moved to her nipples and she gasped involuntarily as he pinched them between forefinger and thumb. Still resting on her elbows, she felt her stomach muscles tightening in response to the unwelcome shock and then saw her rapist's expression darken as if her reaction had triggered something inside him. In one quick motion he gripped her tightly by the waist and thrust himself violently forward, burying himself fully inside his American captive.

As his hips drove forward sharply, the officer's pelvis slammed unceremoniously into hers, driving her buttocks painfully into the edge of the desk and drawing a cry from the naked woman. Holding her hips even tighter to stop her sliding up the desk with his thrusts, he pushed into her again and again, each time pushing himself to the hilt.

As he continued to pound into her, Michelle allowed herself to abandon her position on her elbows and lay back on the desk, lifting her legs slightly to ease the pressure of the wood underneath her ass and thighs. As she did so, the man lent forward over her and ran his fingers once again over her chest and belly, gripping her breasts tightly as they bounced to the rhythm of his relentless pounding. With each thrust the guard grunted with the effort of his exertion and soon his hands roamed again, this time reaching underneath the woman's legs and, drawing them higher, positioned his arms around the backs of her knees. As he lifted his arms, Michelle's legs were forced further apart beneath him and he rested his hands on the inside of her thighs.