Trabbian Justice Ch. 12

Author's note: In its previous incarnations elsewhere, this was separate story, "Trabbian Justice Comes to America", but why not keep things simple and add it on to the story here? Priya is back in the US, a doctor, living in Dorsbury, where she went to undergraduate college. We join her as she is about to start a new job-at a judicial corporal punishment center established under a recently passed law in her home state.

For those just joining, this part can be read without having read the previous chapters.

When the alarm went off at 6:30 AM, Dr. Priya Raman shook the sleep from her head and rolled out of bed. She could hear her husband, Sanjay, getting breakfast in the kitchen of their large, comfortable house. As she headed for the bathroom, Priya thought about how wonderful her life was. Married to a great guy, living in this postcard-perfect town, the very one where she had gone to college (when her last name had been her maiden name, Narayan). And today, she was starting her new job as Staff Physician at Female Corporal Punishment Center #3.

As she stripped to take her morning shower, Priya examined herself in the full-length mirror. She liked what she saw- at 33 she looked much as she had in college, with coffee-colored skin, lovely dark hair and generous breasts, her body toned by running as often as her schedule allowed, along with hiking in the summer and cross-country skiing in winter.

She stepped under the water and lathered up, thinking about the day ahead. After almost 8 years of working in the ER at a large hospital a couple of towns over, Priya had felt burned-out from the crazy hours and the stress of dealing with life or death situations. It seemed to be time to find a job that was a bit less demanding so she could think about maybe having a life beyond the ER.

When she saw the opening as Staff Physician with the Dept. of Corrections, she knew it was perfect. It had regular hours and would leave weekends free. The pay was less than she had made at the hospital, but now that Sanjay's IT consulting firm was doing very well, they didn't depend so much on her income.

But, to be perfectly honest, there was another reason Priya had been anxious to take the job. Faced with rising petty crime and declining budgets, the state had, a few months ago, instituted corporal punishment in place of prison for non-violent offenses. Priya had followed the debate with interest and, once the law was in place, had decided to keep an eye out for openings in the Dept. of Corrections that would give her an opportunity to witness punishment sessions.

Because, buried in Priya's past, kept secret from her husband, her parents and her employers, were the events that had happened during her trip to Trabbia as an undergraduate at Dorsbury College. She had taken a class in ancient civilizations of East Asia, with her favorite professor, Susan Gelden. Professor Gelden had been invited to dig at an ancient archaeological site in what is today Trabbia and to bring along three students-she had chosen Priya and two classmates of hers, Jennifer Collins and Sarah Motello.

As the visitors had been asking about the use of corporal punishment in Trabbia, including on females, a visit to a center where it was administered was arranged. They had watched two female students strapped to a wooden frame and caned savagely for marijuana possession and Priya had found it horrifying, but also, strangely arousing.

Later, the American women had ended up violating some Trabbian laws and were themselves caned and later whipped, before finally being allowed to return home. In the almost 15 years since then, Priya had put that experience aside as much as she could, getting on with life, medical school, residency, medical practice and marriage. Yes, she would think about it occasionally in idle moments, but there weren't that many idle moments in Priya's life.

Still, in her heart, she knew that nothing in her life since then, as wonderful as it had been, had had the raw intensity of seeing people caned and then being flogged in your turn. Now, after all that time, Priya was going to witness women being caned, just as she had seen and been in Trabbia.

Just thinking about it caused a tingle to run down her spine into her groin. She knew that she didn't have much time, but Priya couldn't help herself. She propped her right foot up, gripping the edge of the tub with her toes for support, stuck two fingers into her vagina and began a circular motion against her clitoris with her thumb. As excited as she was, it took no more than three minutes before Priya was panting and moaning as a powerful orgasm rolled through her body, leaving her slumped limply in the tub.

She allowed herself a minute to recuperate, then shut the water off, toweled herself dry and quickly dressed. Priya hurried downstairs, finding Sanjay putting his coat on, getting ready to head for the office. "Good morning, sweetie," he said kissing her, "I wish I could stay and have breakfast with you, but I have to stop by Simmons on the way to the office."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that," Priya said as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Good luck on the new job," he replied. "I hope it all goes well."

"I'm sure it will," she assured him as he headed out the door. Priya sipped her coffee as she heated up a bagel and grabbed a crisp apple from the farmer's market. She finished her breakfast, checked the local news on TV and was soon in her BMW heading to the CP Center, a 10 minute drive from her house in an industrial park on the edge of Dorsbury.

By 7:30, she had parked her car in the parking lot of the one-story, non-descript building and walked over to the solid-looking steel door set in the brick wall, marked by a sign that read, "State Department of Corrections: Female Corporal Punishment Center #3, Staff Entrance".

Not yet equipped with her badge, Priya had to buzz to be let in. A few minutes later, the door opened. Standing there were two guards assigned to the facility. The senior officer, Susan Miller, appeared to be mid-thirties, short and heavy-set with close-cropped black hair. The junior officer, Beth Timmins looked younger, probably mid-twenties and was medium height, with shoulder-length brown hair, gathered in a ponytail.

"I'm Dr. Priya Raman, the new Staff Physician starting today."

Sgt. Miller smiled, "Yes. We've been expecting you. Come in. Welcome to Female Corporal Punishment Facility #3." Once Priya was inside, the two guards escorted her to the Staff Room, where she left her jacket and purse on a chair. "Would you like some coffee and donuts?" Sue offered.

"Well, I just had breakfast, so perhaps you could give me the tour of the facility, Sgt. Miller, so I can understand the entire procedure start to finish," Priya replied.

"My pleasure, Doc, and please call me Sue."

"And please call me Beth," Officer Timmins added.

"Of course, Sue, Beth," Priya replied nodding. "And you can call me Priya, or even Pri, if you prefer."

"Maybe the best plan is to give you an 'offender's eye' view, following the sequence that the offenders follow," Sue suggested. Priya nodded her assent as Sue led the way down a hallway to a solid metal door. "This is the door the offenders enter by. These monitors survey the perimeter to ensure that only those who are scheduled for today are within 100 feet of the door when it's opened. At 9 AM sharp, one guard holds their ID against this pad and enters the 4-digit PIN releasing the lock. Another opens the door and escorts the offenders in and then closes the door."

"What happens if an offender doesn't show or arrives late?" Priya asked.

"Then a warrant is issued for their arrest and they are awarded additional strokes. We find very few don't show up on time."

"Once inside, each one must present the letter from the court ordering them to report for punishment, along with a photo ID. They are fingerprinted too, so they can be compared to those taken at the time of their arrest. We wouldn't want some rich bitch paying someone a fortune to take their licks for them. Once they are logged in, we escort them down the hall to here."

Sue Miller led the visitors down the corridor to a door that was marked, "Offender Changing Area". She held up her card key and the lock clicked open. Inside were a row of lockers with a bench bolted to the floor in front of them. Against the right-hand wall was a table. "This is the point at which things begin to get real for the offenders, because they are ordered to strip and place their clothes and all personal belongings in a locker," Sgt. Miller explained.

"How often do you have non-compliance at this step?" Priya asked.

"Every so often, we get someone who resists. Reminding them that we will call in male officers to strip them forcibly and award extra strokes usually takes care of that," Sue replied. "Once they are naked in front of fully clothed officers, that tends to subdue them and we rarely have problems from there on."

"I would agree that nudity in front of clothed people tends to make one submissive," Priya replied. "It's certainly wise to strip them as soon as possible."

"That is what we do, and they stay naked as you examine them and as they get their caning and through their recovery. They get their clothes back when you certify they are ready to be released." Sue answered.

"Anyway, once all their clothes and other personal effects, including jewelry are in the lockers, they line up on this tape to be searched." She indicated a tape stuck to the floor next to a table that was bolted to the floor. "It's a full cavity search, bent over the table; we don't want anyone sneaking in any weapons or drugs. It's also humiliating to them, which is part of the punishment."

Priya nodded her agreement with this. Beth pointed out the supplies on the table-"One full box of surgical gloves, size medium, one tube of KY jelly, one flashlight (she flicked it off and on to confirm it was in order) and one roll of paper towels". She indicated the biohazard pail where the used gloves would be discarded after each offender had been searched.

"It looks like you are well prepared," Priya noted.

"Yes ma'am," Sgt. Miller responded. "We run a tight ship here. Now would you like to see the Punishment Room?"

Priya felt a shiver of excitement pass through her at the thought. "Of course," she said. They went back into the corridor, and made their way to the door at the far end. The sign on it said "Clinic."

"The access is through the Clinic," Sgt. Miller told them. She flashed her card, opened the door and led the way inside. It looked like any of the many doctor's offices, clinics or ER's that Priya had been associated with in her career. There were a couple of cabinets containing supplies, a table for the doctor and an examining table. There were also a number of cots. "This, of course, is your domain," Sue said. Priya nodded. "You should have time to check everything in here before the offenders arrive, so let's go through to the reason this place exists."

At the far end of the clinic, was a door marked "Punishment Room". Passing through, they entered into a large, high ceilinged-room with a bare concrete floor. There was a table with several simple plastic chairs and another table with a large bucket. But what dominated the room was a structure sitting squarely in the center, made of thick wooden timbers, four uprights about 8 feet high, joined in pairs at the top and attached at their bottom to a square wooden base that was attached to the concrete floor in several spots by sturdy steel bolts.

Running between one pair of uprights was a padded crossbar, while an unpadded crossbar stretched between the other pair of uprights. Priya felt a shiver of excitement as she looked at the fearsome apparatus. It was almost an exact copy of the one in Trabbia to which she had been strapped when she had been caned almost 15 years before. Whether it was copied from it or simply reflected the fact that there were only so many ways to fasten a human body to be whipped on the buttocks, Priya couldn't say. The main difference was that in the tropical climate of Trabbia, the canings had been carried out outdoors in a dirt courtyard, while here, in a colder climate, they were administered indoors.

The two staffers escorted Priya to the apparatus. "Normally, we march them over quickly, because seeing the site of their punishment is a bit of a shock and there is a natural tendency to want to run away, so we like to at least have their ankles attached as soon as possible," the Sergeant explained. She grabbed one of the uprights and tried to shake it. "It's anchored pretty tight," she told them. "Would you like to test it?"

Priya grabbed a post and shook it. It didn't move. Sgt. Miller pointed to the leather straps attached by a short metal chain to the bottom of each of the uprights with the padded crossbar. "The first thing we do is fasten one of those around each ankle. Once that is done, any resistance is futile." She pulled firmly on each one; they didn't budge.

Priya remembered from her own experience how it had felt to have one's ankles secured to the frame; she knew the panic these girls would be experiencing. Sgt. Miller continued, "Next, we bend their upper body over the padded bar, and strap this padded belt over their waist." She pulled hard on both ends-there was no give-then pulled the loose end through the buckle on the other end and made sure it held tightly.

"Then, one of us goes to the other end and fastens the straps attached to the far crossbar around each wrist. At that point they are secured, ready to receive their punishment." Priya felt warmth spreading through her groin at the prospect that she would soon be watching real women being flogged on this frame.

At that moment, the door to the Punishment Room opened and a shaven-headed man in a blue T shirt that barely contained his muscles, his lower half clad in sweatpants and sneakers, walked in. "George," Sue called to him, "Come and say hello to our new doctor, Priya Raman. This is our caner, Officer George Grieder."

"Pleased to meet you, Doc," the man said, shaking Priya's hand.

Sue asked him, "George, would you show our guests the canes; this is Dr. Raman's first time seeing this live, so she would appreciate a full explanation."

"Certainly," he responded. "Right this way." He led them to a table at the far end of the room, where there was a large bucket filled with liquid. There were a number of canes in the bucket, the bottom 2/3 or so of which were submerged in the liquid, while the leather-wrapped handles protruded. George selected one, grasped the handle and removed it. The rod was about 4 feet long and almost 1/2 inch in diameter.

It looked just like Priya remembered the ones that had been used in Trabbia. He swished it through the air; it made the same evil whistling sound that she remembered. She couldn't wait to watch and hear it smash into some quivering buttocks spread helpless on the frame.

"This is rattan, grown in Southeast Asia," he explained. Priya wondered if it came from Trabbia. "The bottom part is soaked in water over night to make it highly flexible." He demonstrated this by bending it almost 180°. "The handle is left rigid to provide control. Properly wielded, it delivers a powerful impact, one that the offenders will remember the rest of their lives." Priya could testify that that was entirely correct. In fact, if you examined her buttocks in a strong light, you could still see faint traces from the caning she had gotten with such an instrument almost 15 years before.

"George, have you seen today's schedule?" Sgt. Miller asked.

"Yes, I have. Two today, 8 and 12, right?" he responded.

"Yep," Sue replied, "And I'm sure you will treat them with your usual delicacy."

"Yes, Ma'am," he chuckled, "They will have to stand to attention, because they won't be sitting for quite some time. I'll be ready and waiting here, just as soon as you ladies want to bring them in."

"OK, George," Sue told him. "Now, Doc, we should review the files on today's offenders. We can do that in the break room, because you may not need coffee and donuts, but I do and I think Beth does too." Beth nodded.

Once in the break room, Sgt. Miller laid out the day's schedule: "We have two offenders coming, one is getting 8 strokes and one is getting 12 as you heard me tell George." She pushed two file folders across the table. Priya thought it sounded like a surgical nurse describing the day's patients. In a way it was, though the surgery performed on these women's butts would be done without anesthetic.

Priya opened the first folder-, Britney McManus, 23, convicted of DWI and sentenced to 12 strokes. Britney had a hard, thin face, framed with long, stringy, dirty blond hair. The address looked to be one of the trailer parks on the edge of town. The second piqued Priya's interest-Allison Sturgis, 19, who, from the address given appeared to be a student at Dorsbury College. Pretty, with shoulder-length brunette hair, caught trying to buy alcohol with a phony ID and given 8 strokes.

Priya was excited by the idea that very soon these two women would be stripped and she would examine them and watch as they would be strapped to the frame and hear them howling in pain as George shredded their asses. It was something she had waited many years to see again.