The Georgia Peach Pt. 03

Catherine shuddered again, feeling her eyes water, acknowledging her trepidation and shame. She mumbled an earnest prayer. Her family were Catholics, like Uncle Billy's, but visiting a church or chapel of any kind during these recent times had not been possible. However, right now seemed like the appropriate time to reacquaint herself with the Lord our God ... her God, or at least she hoped that He was, for He was her only hope.

Voicing the benediction quietly to herself, and in her grainy half slumbering state, Catherine felt the warmth of sunlight that burst in through the opened doors and gleamed upon her place of confinement.

She raised her head to the dawn of the day that heralded the morning of her punishment.

Moments later as the guard leapt to his feet, the sudden movement caused her to look. As she balanced awkwardly on her elbow, upright in the pen, Catherine saw what the commotion was. Uncle Billy was here.

Chapter 23 -- Outside the Discipline Block Out-Building at White Orchard Mansion Around 6am (a little while before Sherman departs to visit the block), May 12th 1864

"No, thank you, I am most definitely not hungry." Sherman waived away offers of bacon and settled instead for a cup of warm coffee, which, despite the rigours of today's burdensome schedule, he needed in order to heighten his attentiveness following a very unsatisfactory night's sleep.

"The surgeon and the drummer have arrived just as you asked General." Lieutenant Sampson buzzed around his Commanding Officer like a bee seeking nectar. He could hardly contain the anticipation that dwelt inside him, and he was keen to make sure that the General did not change his mind over the whipping of this young, nubile filly who, in fact, had turned out to be the General's very own Goddaughter!

"Good. Let them avail of refreshments and then we will meet. Now Lieutenant, take me to the post. Let me survey the battleground."

Sampson was delighted at Sherman's analogous use of the term 'battleground', it confirmed that the planned punishment display would most definitely be taking place!

The discipline block was some way from the main house, and so the military pair walked for a not inconsiderable time to reach the whipping post. The morning of May 12th 1864 was bright and already warm, the sun having risen, clearing the early mist, over an hour ago. The previous day had seen several inches of heavy rainfall, and now, baking in the ever-increasing heat of the morning, the slippery, thick mud was beginning to harden and rut.

As the two men approached the small raised platform, the General stopped in those rutted tracks to stare. "Good God man, what have you done to the post?" Sherman's brow furrowed as his junior officer's heart rose into his mouth.

"It's an amendment to hasten her confession Sir. It's based on the structure of a crucifix. The Roman's ..."

"Yes, yes, I know what it is Lieutenant Sampson, they call it a sedile I believe, but you cannot be serious about using it." The General moved to the post and touched the point where the carved length of smooth upturned wood had been nailed to the upright.

"Remove it at once."

Sampson swallowed. There was no way he could have it taken off now. He and the men had marvelled over its potential, fantasised at stories of how it would penetrate the little bitch to the core ...

"Sir, it is for her own good."

Sherman turned to face the Lieutenant, and cocked his head. "Pray do tell me how that can possibly be Mister Sampson."

Sampson took a deep breath and replied, "General Sir, none of us wish this scene to go on for any longer than is absolutely necessary," his duplicity was hidden inside the words, because of course the Lieutenant, along with every last one of his men, wanted Catherine's torment to continue for as long as possible. "... and you said yourself that you wanted answers. So, the sooner we get them the better for everyone, including Miss McCown. If we make the earlier part of this experience as arduous as possible for her, the more chance there will be that she breaks sooner rather than later."

The Lieutenant took a step back, placed his gloved hands behind his back and smiled. He had to admit that he was quite pleased with his response to the General's objection.

"I don't know Lieutenant, it seems so crude, so barbaric!"

"But General, this is war, it is crude and cruel, as you yourself often remind us. The hanging of those four troopers of ours was barbaric!"

Sherman frowned, creating even more furrows to his brow. With a shake of his head, he said, "Very well Mister Sampson, you may leave it in situ."

"Thank you, General Sir. I intend to have the shackles raised to the very top of the post with the accused placed on a crate while her wrists are secured. The wooden phall ... I mean the sedile, will be positioned 'appropriately' during my initial questioning so that she can anticipate what is about to happen. If she admits her guilt and answers our questions at that stage, she will avoid all further discomforts. However, if she refuses to speak then the crate will be kicked away and, left hanging only by her wrists, she will be impaled ... whereupon the whipping can begin."

Sherman closed his eyes and sighed. It was more than harsh, and this was Catherine McCown, his own Goddaughter. But they had come this far he reminded himself, and the matter was, after all, of the gravest importance.

"I will leave the administration of this affair in your hands Lieutenant. Come now, let us visit with the surgeon."

Chapter 24 -- The Drawing Room in White Orchard Mansion, Around 6:30am, May 12th 1864

"General, your welcome has been most amenable, thank you." Major John Watson, the surgeon attached to the Army of the Tennessee's XVII Corps, was a gregarious man. He enjoyed the convivial nature of army life and he had most certainly appreciated the bacon, biscuits, gravy and coffee that had been waiting upon his arrival.

"It is my pleasure Major Watson, now let us get down to the business of the day."

"A girl, I believe General?" He responded with more than a glint in his eye. Sherman nodded by way of response.

"She stands accused of spying, and we believe that she aided bushwhackers to murder several of our men recently. However, we cannot simply hang or shoot her, because we know that she has information that could prove crucial to the battles that we will no doubt be fighting in the coming days."

The Major nodded, an earnest look belying his own mounting thrill.

"She is, I understand, known to you General Sherman?"

Sherman stared at his officer without saying a single word in response, until finally he replied with quiet assertion, "She is indeed Major Watson, but that is of no material relevance to what we are here to do."

Nodding his understanding, it became clear to the Major that this was the end of the matter.

"You, sir, are here to inspect her health before we begin, and also be on hand to perform spot checks during the flogging, as I, or you, deem necessary. Is that clear and understood?"

"Perfectly General ..." Major Watson looked down at the table before him, coughed to clear his throat and then addressed his Commanding Officer once more.

"General might I ask, during the punishment ... will the girl be ... naked?"

Sherman frowned at the question, ran his hand loosely through his scruff of red hair, and nodded. "Yes Major, she will."

The less senior officer nodded in response, his mind recalling how he had summonsed one of the young camp followers into his tent only the night before. His groin stiffened a little and the Major was forced to shift his position so that his considerable bulk could rest more easily inside his uniform.

"Then take me to her General, if you please, and let us begin this examination."

Chapter 25 -- The Slave Pens at White Orchard, Around 6:50am, May 12th 1864

It was time. There would be no more waiting. Suddenly Catherine wished the lingering could continue a little longer just as passionately as she had so recently wished for it to end. Yet she knew things would move quickly, leaving little time for thought ... or hope.

Straining to look into the direction of the sound, to the large wooden-framed doorway where the General and his small retinue stood, her eyes shifted anxiously towards the jangling of keys. A slow click of booted footsteps grew ever louder as they approached.

Despite her being naked, chained and exhausted, two armed, blue-coated guards assumed positions next to the pen, bayonets affixed to their newly issued Spencer rifles. One of the troopers reached down and slipped a key into the small lock.

"You need to come out now Miss," was all he said, as he used the same bunch of keys to unshackle her wrist. This one had been with her all night. He knew what had happened, knew how she had been appallingly used ... but she detected not one morsel of sympathy for her plight.

Catherine recognised there was no point in fighting, and so she hurriedly slithered out from within the confines of the caged pen, her outstretched arms appeared first, then her bent body, poised on its knees.

A hand gripped her upper arm, making her wince, and pulled the girl to her feet. Looking up she saw Uncle Billy with the Lieutenant and a third, portly looking man along with them. Someone that she had not seen before.

Catherine felt trapped. She fidgeted apprehensively, the skin of both thighs rubbing nervously together. The warm, trembling flesh of her bare bottom bitten by the relative chill during the night, her back aching from being pressed down against the bars of the cage by those monsters.

She felt the slight breeze between her legs and suddenly remembered that she no longer had pubic hair. The memory of that particular act made her feel unclean and noxious ... A bilious sensation rose once more into her throat, causing her to splutter as she coughed it away.

Defiantly, she eyed the silhouettes of the approaching group ... and with dismay sensed her nipples harden in the morning air, feeling thicker and longer than ever.

"Bring her to me," said the stout man, clearly an officer, maybe a medic given his tunic, "... Where I can scrutinise her more thoroughly in the light."

Seizing her arms, the soldiers wrenched the girl outside. As the realisation of what this was a prelude to, coupled with the cramping pains that permeated constantly throughout the soles of her feet, Catherine's newly found fortitude evaporated. As a table was brought into the doorway of the slave pens outbuilding for her to lay on, her spirit felt thoroughly crushed.

He was here to examine her, she had already realised that, and the very need for such a thing caused her levels of panic to heighten. How bad was the whipping going to be?

Uncle Billy spoke.

"Catherine this is Major Watson, an army surgeon, and he is here to ensure you are of sound enough health to undertake the ordeal that is planned for this morning.

The General and Lieutenant Sampson took a step back.

Ordeal ...

The word made the poor girl tremble. She was completely unfettered, but the close attention of the armed guard and her maltreated state of mind and body rendered any thoughts of escape futile.

With little point in delaying what was inevitable she hoisted herself onto the smooth wooden surface of the table and the Major looked at her with an appraising eye. Catherine flushed red and tried to cover herself with her hands.

The touch of the surgeon was surprisingly gentle as he opened her legs, spreading them wide, following which he took her wrists in his grip and slowly drew Catherine's hands away from her breasts.

"Lie flat on your back, please, Miss McCown" he said. She shivered slightly, but could not make herself comply, never had she felt so vulnerable ...

Gently, softly, the surgeon placed his hands upon Catherine's shoulders. "Lie down, please." He pressed lightly but firmly, until she was lying flat on the table.

"Hold her by the wrists," he instructed one of the troopers who stood at her head gazing down upon the prostrate girl's very desirable nudity. He quickly acceded to the command and Catherine felt her arms pulled high, her delicate wrists secured in a firm, male grip.

"Now her ankles, please ... and separate them." The second guard and Lieutenant Sampson were now on-point for this subsequent order, securing Catherine to the table, her legs pulled wide apart.

"She has been shaved?" Major Watson looked up waiting for a response.

"She has, Sir." It was Lieutenant Sampson's voice.

"Might I ask why?" The Major continued.

Sampson did not have a ready answer and so he paused, but then somewhat cryptically replied, "I felt it appropriate in order to maximise the effects of her impending punishment. I have discussed this with the General."

His logic referred to the fact that he had already had General Sherman sanction the sedile attachment, and a hairless mound would undoubtedly enhance the impact of its intended use, not to mention create a more pleasing aesthetic. The Major nodded, seemingly satisfied.

The Lieutenant once more gazed upon Catherine's face as if daring her to contradict his story. She did not. In fact, her expression gave way to a gasp as the surgeon's touch slid down her body, over her breasts, along her sides, to roam across her smooth thighs. She let out a small squeak.

The Major stepped over to the other side of the table. His fingers stroked the girl's inner thigh, before gliding slowly down her leg. The feeling of repulsion in her stomach was sickening. In one moment, as she turned her head away to the side so that she might emit a quiet whimper, she saw Uncle Billy standing apart from their little group staring into the space of the open fields before him.

Her attention was switched back to the examination when she felt the cold metal of a stethoscope being pressed against her chest. A quick cough from her seemed to satisfy the surgeon, who was now ready to move on.

"Open your mouth, please."

Catherine obeyed him reluctantly, her heart pounding furiously. The Major pressed her tongue down and peered inside, and then exhaled heavily.

"Dear girl, I am tasked by General Sherman with this examination. It is important that you answer all of my questions truthfully and completely." He took her chin in his hands and turned her to meet his gaze. "Did you engage in rough oral sex recently?"

Sampson felt his heart flip. Were the unpalatable details of his night time visitation about to be exposed? The Lieutenant stared down at Catherine, who returned his scrutiny with her own expression of defiance. Her heart beat faster, but then the whole situation got the better of her and she looked away, unable to provide the Major with an answer.

Sergeant Oak's voice echoed in her mind, instructing her to do as she was told. In the jumble of thoughts and emotions within her head, the recollection of his words made her feel even more helpless than the hands now holding her to the table.

Quietly she whispered, "Yes."

"Did these men, whoever they were, also ejaculate into your mouth?"

She hesitated, but the surgeon increased the intensity of his gaze.

"Yes."

"Did you swallow any of the ejaculate?"

She shuddered. "Yes."

"At any point while these men were ejaculating in your mouth, did you experience sexual gratification?"

She could not hold his gaze when she answered. "No, I did not." Her voice sounded small and far away.

"I see," the Major replied, his questions seemingly serving no other purpose than to provide titillation to service his own whimsical perversions. He turned Catherine's head sideways, stiff, long fingers combing through her hair. He bent over to inspect her, his face so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. "There appears to be tiny traces of dried semen in your hair. Did they also ejaculate on your face or body?"

Catherine felt a new level of humiliation as these questions were posed to her. Was it not bad enough that she was to be flogged before her household and a group of gawking, lecherous soldiers?

"I ... I ... do ... not th ... think so," she whispered.

Not once did the Major ask her for any names or descriptions of 'these men' ... much to Lieutenant Sampson's relief, and the examination moved on.

Probing hands moved down the sides of the captive girl's neck and over her collarbone. He peered closely at her as though searching for something. His fingers moved over her breasts, examining, fondling. Her nipples hardened even more, an involuntary response that both horrified and embarrassed her.

"There are small bruises on your breasts, consistent with the marks made by fingers. Did the men squeeze or fondle your breasts forcefully?"

Catherine opened her mouth, but no words would come. She nodded, then said, "Please sir, unless you are so-minded to bring these evil perpetrators to justice, would you kindly stop asking such questions, they have nothing to do with ..."

But Major Watson ignored her pleas, and continued, in his own sweet way, with the task at hand. He examined each of her arms closely, from her shoulders all the way down to the tips of her fingers. Catherine felt dehumanised under his gaze, like an object being poked and prodded to reveal its secrets. The inspection felt clinical, detached, objectifying; but at the same time, being looked at in such a meticulously degrading manner seemed appallingly intimate. She struggled, trying to move away from his scrutiny, but the hands gripping her limbs held her immobile.

"I can see minor abrasions on her wrists, that is consistent with what might be left by shackles or manacles."

"She was secured, Sir," The Lieutenant offered.

The surgeon nodded, and then continued with his narrative.

"I see." He said, "I am now ready to begin Miss McCown's internal examination."

She closed her eyes and whimpered softly as he opened her wide ... causing poor Catherine to groan when she felt the touch of him penetrating her.

... It was a short while later that Major Watson sidled up alongside General Sherman, leaving the girl to guzzle down the water now being offered to her.

"How is she?" The General asked without shifting his gaze one inch from the direction in which he was previously looking.

"She is, General, a fine specimen. Young fit and healthy."

Sherman nodded his face expressionless. He turned around just in time to see Sampson and the guards pulling Catherine up from her humiliating squat position, the night's urine still dripping down her thighs.

He watched as her wrists, neck and ankles were shackled once more in heavy irons and a collar, ready for her approach to the post. She was to be hobbled, which would, in turn, ensure that the degrading and terrifying walk was made at a slow pace.

"Major Watson, is she a virgin?"

The surgeon paused briefly, before responding, "Yes General, she is."

The General recalled the sedile that had been added to the whipping post. Emotionally he was appalled at what Sampson had planned, but he agreed with the Lieutenant's words, rationalising that the harder the punishment, the more certain the desired outcome would become.

"I suspected as much, she was brought up to respect her womanhood ..." Sherman responded, "... but that makes no difference to her fitness for what we have planned."

And with those words the fate of Catherine McCown was sealed.

Chapter 26 -- Paraded from the Slave Pens to the Discipline Block, Around 7:15am May 12th 1864

Catherine stood, head bowed, just waiting. The corridor of soldiers and slaves with eager, prying eyes was gathered before her. Troopers with lust-fuelled grins and bulges at their groin, field slaves filled with anticipatory excitement at what they were about to witness ... But those same negroes also looked wary, seemingly not quite sure why this was happening and wondering if, by simply being a witness to it, they too would suffer a similar fate.