Twelve Days a Slave Ch. 04

This is the story of a young woman's conviction as a terrorist and what happens to her when she is sentenced to penal slavery. Penal slavery is not impossible. The Thirteenth and Fourteenth Amendments to the Constitution of the United States of America do NOT prohibit slavery. They only LIMIT slavery to punishment for crimes. In other words, the Constitution allows penal slavery.

After the woman is convicted, a "sentence negotiator" gets her sentence reduced to a public day of repentance followed by eleven days of public punishment. Following that, she is to serve one year of penal servitude.

This story deals with non-consensual punishment, pain, and involuntary slavery. If such topics offend you or upset you, I would advise skipping this particular book.

There are thirteen chapters to this story. The chapters can be read on their own, but the story is much better understood if the previous portions have been read. The complete story is full book length. I debated publishing it with some of my other books at Fiction4all, but decided that I would rather serialize it and post it here.

A description of the thirteen chapters follows the end of each chapter. In this chapter, the second day of punishment begins with a flogging contest by a company called Judicial Placements Incorporated. Her negotiator... and new Master, William Wilson flogs missy the required forty-six times to fulfill the terms of her sentence. This chapter is totally focused on non-consensual flogging.

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2015 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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Chapter Four - A Corporate Flogging Contest

Missy awoke to the smell of coffee... and bacon. "Get your ass out of bed," she heard him yell from the other end of the bus. It wasn't an angry yell, it was just loud. After stopping in the bathroom for her morning routine, which seemed so much shorter now that she didn't have to worry about her hair, she padded into the kitchen barefoot and, of course, naked.

"I've lived by myself for so long that I have just gotten used to cooking," William said as she arranged her towel on the bench at the table and sat down. He poured her a cup of coffee and set a plate in front of her with bacon, eggs, and toast on it. There was a small jar of jam on the table.

"Today will be both easier and harder than yesterday," he said as he slipped into the bench on his side of the table. "I want you to keep in mind that this is all one great big performance. The people- and the courts- think that the primary purpose is to punish you, but the primary purpose is to make money."

He paused to take a noisy sip from his coffee. "And we can't make any money if you are too badly damaged to do tomorrow's performance." He chomped on a piece of the bacon and scooped a whole egg into his mouth with his fork.

Pointing his fork at her he became very serious. "Keep that in mind, and trust me in this. If the pain starts getting too bad, remember your fantasies. I have a feeling that helped while Takahashi was whaling on your ass."

After another huge mouthful of food, he paused to chew for a moment and then continued, "And don't let the undercard performances scare you. They don't have another show tomorrow. You do."

Missy wasn't sure what he meant, but decided not to ask questions. Instead she slowly ate her eggs and toast. As she had always done, she saved the bacon for last and chewed it slowly between sips of coffee. When William got up to do dishes, she also stood and said, "Let me do that."

He sat back down as she stood at the sink. While she washed, he said, "We'll be taking a parade lap through town at eight. You need to be oiled up and ready by then."

Again missy didn't know for sure what he meant, but when she turned to look at him, he was holding a bottle of baby oil and a tube of some thicker gel. When she had finished the dishes, he handed both to her and said, "It would probably be best if you did this outside so you don't get this shit all over everything in here. Wait 'til I get changed and we will walk back to the trailer."

A few minutes later, he came back out of his bedroom wearing a set of blue coveralls. Motioning with his head for missy to follow him, he stepped down out of the bus and walked to the side door of the trailer. "Stand there and get yourself oiled up," he instructed and went into the trailer. He added, "Use the gel first and then smear it out with the oil. I'll do your back after I get the unit out of the trailer."

While missy was rubbing the slimy mixture over as much of her body as she could reach, William backed the ATV and cage out of the trailer. He then walked back over to missy carrying the chains and shackles. "Your costume," he said as he held up the collar.

Missy obediently turned around so he could fasten it around her neck. She then turned and held up her arms, still holding the oil, so he could lock the manacles on her wrists. Since she wasn't in the cage, she didn't need to lift her legs for him to reach her ankles.

Once all the chains were in place, William took the oil from her and motioned for her to turn around. The only area that she could not reach had been the center of her back, but William rubbed the oily mixture thoroughly into her back and then moved down. Soon his hand was once again rubbing between her ass cheeks. She moaned slightly and his fingers slipped between her legs.

A few moments later, he suddenly withdrew his hand and said, "That should put you in the proper frame of mind to get through this." He then led her over to the cage and locked her inside.

Once she was in the cage, he returned to the big trailer and dragged out another small trailer. This one wasn't really a trailer. It was more of a sign on wheels which he connected to the back of the trailer holding the cage.

The sign looked very much like the side of the bus. It had the picture of missy in chains and said, "slave missy's Punishment Tour. Witness the punishment of a repentant terrorist." What was different was a white area at the bottom of the sign which said, "Today! Fairgrounds - 2:00 pm." It also gave a telephone number and a website where people could buy tickets.

"Hold onto the bars," he instructed. "That way you won't get thrown around in there." He started to get on the ATV but stopped and added, "But remember to move from side to side so people on both sides of the street can see your face."

With that he started up the ATV and headed for the entrance to the fairgrounds. The morning air was slightly cool and was even cooler when you were standing naked in an open cage moving at 30 mph. Missy soon found herself shivering and she turned to face the back of the cage to at least keep the wind off her face and the front of her body.

It was lucky for her that she was facing backwards because just as William turned to go through the square a crowd of youngsters unleashed a barrage of eggs. Most hit the street around the trailer, but several found their mark and splattered against her side and back.

She heard William curse and suddenly the ATV was moving as fast, or faster, than the traffic around them. He shortly arrived back at the fairground and drove immediately to their bus.

"I'm sorry about that," he said as he opened her cage. "Are you hurt?"

"No," she answered, "just smeared up a little." She gave a smile that was more like a grimace and added, "at least it helped protect my skin from the wind."

William looked slightly embarrassed. "Well," he said, "I hadn't figured on that either." Looking up at her he added, "But it won't happen again."

He took her over to the side of the trailer and said, "Let's get you washed off and re-oiled." Then leaving her standing alone he went into the bus and returned with a small bowl of warm water and a wash cloth.

After carefully wiping off the splattered egg, he mixed the gel and oil in his hands and re-applied it to the areas he had just cleaned. "Stay here a moment," he said, pointing to the side of the trailer. He then disappeared around the other side of the bus and returned pulling a hose.

After rinsing down the cage, he motioned for her to re-enter it. "We're running late," he said. The courts demand a minimum time for the punishments. I convinced them to include display time, but we have to get you up in the air to make sure some tight-assed judicial assistant doesn't declare this day void."

Missy hurried into her cage and William placed the huge padlock on the door. A few minutes later the winch was once again lifting her up above the stage. William stood beneath her and said, "Showtime is 2:00 o'clock. I'll be back by then, but I have to make some special arrangements first."

He pointed to four men in black jeans and T-shirts standing at the corners of the stage. "They will make sure that the local juvenile delinquents don't get out of control again. With that he ran off the stage and took the ATV back over to the bus.

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Being on display naked in a cage above the stage was humiliating, but there is only so much humiliation you can experience. After a while, it is no longer humiliating. It just is. Missy stood in her cage watching the stage crew set up a series of posts along the edge of the race track.

There were twelve posts spaced at odd intervals. The first two were a little less than five feet apart, then there was a space almost double that before the next two posts. There were also a pair of posts mounted on some sort of rolling stand that was pushed up onto the stage and moved against the back wall where it was covered with a large cloth that was the same color as the stage wall.

When the stage crew returned and began bolting chains to the top and bottom of each post, missy suddenly realized what they were- or at least what they were for. It was especially clear when the crew began attaching wrist restraints to the upper chains and ankle restraints to the short ones at the base of the posts. One thing that still puzzled missy was that the posts on her right all had leather restraints while the posts on her left had metal ones like she was currently wearing.

Another thing which seemed odd was that they seemed to be constructing another smaller stage off to the right side of the big stage. When they put up a canopy and began setting up microphones she thought to herself, "I wonder what sort of music they play for a punishment?"

At noon, her stomach began telling her that she hadn't eaten. Shortly thereafter her ears began telling her that music, itself, could be punishment. It was some sort of local band. They were young, loud, and, at best, mediocre. Since they were local, however, there were many in the gathering crowd who applauded each song when they were finished. The band continued to play all the way up to the two o'clock showtime.

At exactly two, Mister Wilson came striding out from behind the stage. He was again dressed in his tuxedo. He lifted his microphone to his mouth and bellowed out. "Welcome to punishment day three of twelve for the repentant terrorist, slave missy. Today is sponsored by Judicial Placements Incorporated. When you need a short-term slave for those projects in your home or business, the place to go is Judicial Placements."

He then walked over to stage right and gestured out toward the smaller stage where the band was starting to dismantle their equipment. "And our warmup music from The Smathers Smashers was sponsored Harold and Lillian Smathers."

Missy giggled slightly to herself as she figured out that the lead singer's parents had paid for him to perform. "Isn't that supposed to be the other way around?" she said aloud to herself. "I mean, if I were so bad that I had to pay places to let me perform, I think I would give it up."

"But you didn't come here today to listen to bands," William continued in his stage voice. "You came here today to see slaves punished."

There was a great roar of applause and whistling from the crowd.

"And of course," he continued, "you especially came to see slave missy get her just desserts."

Again the crowd erupted.

"But first," he said, holding up his hand toward to the crowd, "we are going to see the punishment of some household and business slaves."

As he was speaking, a column of slaves began walking slowly toward the stage. They must have been held somewhere under the grandstands because they came around the end of the stands and walked in front of those seated on the track.

There were two guards with each slave. The guards were dressed in black jeans and black T-shirts with the word "SECURITY" in big yellow letters across the front. As the front of the column passed the center of the stage, missy could see that on the back, the T-shirts read, "Judicial Placements Security."

The first three slaves were men. They walked past the front of the stage and each stood between two of the posts. The last three slaves were women. They stood between the posts on stage right.

"Oh," missy said. "That's why the difference. Men get metal restraints. Women get leather." She held up her wrists in front of her face. The chains clanked noisily as she did so. "Well," she continued, "most women get leather."

The security men bound each of the slaves in a tight "X" between the posts.

"All of these slaves volunteered to be here today," William said loudly. "You might wonder why a slave would volunteer to be flogged," he added almost with a laugh. He shook his head as he answered, "They didn't. They are being flogged for misbehavior. They volunteered to be flogged HERE today because the law stipulates that any flogging given in public counts double."

He looked almost pensive, "I'm not sure why they limited that to flogging and not other forms of punishment," he said, "but everyone today is going to be flogged so it doesn't really matter."

He then pointed down to the row of bound slaves. "The other thing which the law stipulates is that the slave must be flogged by his or her master. Since these slaves are owned by Judicial Punishments Incorporated, they will be flogged by members of the JPI board."

At that point a large, very muscular, black man came walking out onto the stage. He was that deep shade of black that comes only directly from Africa or perhaps from one of the Caribbean islands like Jamaica.

As he reached center stage, William said warmly, "I introduce to you, Mister Nicardo Gordon, CEO of Judicial Placements Incorporated."

He handed a second microphone to Nicardo and said, "Tell us what is going to happen this afternoon."

Nicardo looked out at the audience with a steady gaze. "Well, William," he began, "when you offered us the opportunity to sponsor one of these days of punishment, I immediately thought that we should also offer some of our slaves the opportunity of being publicly punished."

He gestured to the six naked figures restrained between the posts. "All of these slaves have committed very serious infractions... up to and including attempting to escape. After a proper judicial review, they were each sentenced to 40 lashes."

A loud flow of murmuring swept through the crowd. He held up his hand and said, "Such a serious flogging is not something we want to do, but there are times when discipline must be maintained."

He smiled again, this time showing a significant amount of teeth. "But we are not heartless," he continued. "We let it be known that this venue qualified for the two-for-one aspect of public flogging, and all six volunteered to allow you to witness their punishment in return for receiving only twenty strikes with the flogger."

He then turned to stage left and said, "Would the board please come up on stage?" Four men and eight women walked out to join him. Ten were dressed in black jeans with a black polo shirt. The Judicial Placements logo was on the left side of the front of the shirt. The logo was also on the back, much larger, with "Judicial Placements Inc" printed beneath it.

Two of the women, however, were dressed very differently. Both were wearing black leather. One was wearing a black leather coverall that clung tightly to her shapely body and approached being a catsuit. Calf-high black leather boots with four-inch heels completed the outfit.

The other woman was wearing a leather miniskirt with a leather jacket. It appeared she might be wearing the black JPI polo shirt beneath the jacket, but it was hard to tell. She was also wearing black leather boots, but hers were very shiny and came up to just below the edge of her miniskirt.

Nicola smiled again at the crowd and said, "Two of our board members have direct responsibility for acquisition and training." He laughed slightly and added, "I will leave it up to you to guess which two."

A rumble of laughter went through the crowd.

"Each slave will receive ten lashes," he explained. "Then they will be turned around so that they face the stage before they receive the second set of ten."

With that, the twelve members of the board walked back off the stage and formed a line behind the slaves. Evidently while everyone's attention was on William and Nicola on stage, the stage crew had brought in a long table and placed it against the front of the stage. On the table, arranged so that about an inch of their handles protruded off the front, were twelve floggers.

One of the women stepped up to the table and picked up a flogger. She then walked behind the woman restrained in the first set of posts. She stood slightly to the side and reached in with her arm to check the position of her swing. As she did so, the long leather strips of the flogger dragged across the slave's back. The slave gasped in response and jerked within her bonds.

"Just making sure I'm hitting in the approved area," the woman said. She then pulled back her arm and swung with a measured fury.

The lash slapped loudly as the leather struck flesh. The slave grunted slightly, but did not cry out.

The woman struck again... and again... and again. Each time, the slave's vocalization became louder and her struggles within her restraints became much more frantic, but she did not cry out.

The woman swinging the flogger was beginning to perspire. Her hair was tumbling out of place. Her arm came back further and further with each swing so that she would have more momentum when she struck.

William voice came over the speakers, "Ten," he said, and the woman dropped her arm to her side. "And what do our judges say?" he asked, gesturing over at the smaller stage where the band had been playing.

Missy turned within her cage to see what he was pointing at. Her eyes widened as three men and two women sitting behind a table on the small stage held up large cards with numbers on them. One held a number one, three scored the flogger at 2, and two gave her a 3.