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CAMP XV
The night passing, a morning of punishment’s administered in front of the entire camp’s population while they’re exposed naked to the elements. When all’s done, the brunette’s turn of individual treatment by the prison’s administrators become a reality.
Chapter Two
Daybreak, the weather front still passing, the temperature’s actually climbed a few degrees since midnight. The early morning sun obstructed by the ominous cumulus clouds overhead, there’s a brief lull in the rain, a thick damp mist filling the air over the saturated grounds. The wailing of the siren reverberates across the compound’s barbed wire perimeter as the doors are swung open to the small row of barracks by the compound’s guards, the prisoners hastily jostled out of the buildings. More then a trot, hands behind their heads in their single files as they do every morning, their lone exception to the routine is of being naked, no clothes, no shoes, nothing.
Trotted out through the muck of the compound’s parade ground to form their predetermined rows of groups of ten in front of the Captain’s complex, they quickly line up, stand at attention while ankle deep in mud. The third row vacant, that of the group being punished, the rest keep their arms hoisted above their heads, hands interlocked behind their necks. Standing at attention they silently stare straight ahead through the haze of the crisp morning air toward the pair of occupied stocks on the complex’s porch. Cold and damp, their breath visible, the group’s bodies shimmer from the dew collecting across their naked flesh as they dare not to move, even as their soaking feet ripple the pools of water beneath them.
The guards intermingling between the five rows of prisoners, posture and alertness are paramount to avoiding instant discipline. The taste of the lash, especially on naked flesh in chilly, damp weather, possibly followed by a merit punishment witnessed by the entire prison camp after the workday has the defined rows of women well aware of the routine, and obediently adhering to the strict rules.
The office’s door swinging open, the Captain with clipboard in hand’s followed by the Doctor as they step out onto the porch. The Commandant, still inside watches out the window from his chair behind the desk, socks in hand. Partially dressed, suspenders haphazardly strapped across his shirtless chest barely holding his trousers up while he’s recuperating from the past evening’s activities, he leans back in the desk’s chair to slip on his shoes. Outside, stepping between the pair of mounted naked bodies obviously painfully straining in the stocks on either side of the steps, the Captain begins roll call as the Doc walks down the steps, past the rows of prisoners toward the barbed wire pen across the yard.
A few minutes, an orderly roll call and the Doc returns, acknowledging the eight in the pen are still medically sound, just a little worse for wear even if in agony. Glancing over the compound, making sure she has the individual attention of every prisoner, the Captain hands the clipboard to the Doctor. Turning toward the sergeant of the guard, receiving a lethal looking black leather cat-o-nine tails, the Captain positions herself between the two stocks with the pair of exhausted women reversely shackled against them. Again glancing over the yard, holding the lash upright she grips the short black hair of the prisoner mounted to her right. Dragging the girl’s head even further back, scraping her neck in the stock, she glances into her agonized sleepless, swollen eyes. Glancing around to the front of the stock, toward the girl’s bare torso arched outward, she lets the lash’s leather strands spread across the firm wet breasts barely swaying across her chest as her stomach ripples with each forced breath. Tracing the flexing leather lower, the girl’s hollowing stomach quivers under her defined ribcage as a barely visible mist smolders across her naked flesh.
“Ten across the tits and cunt shoved out there in front of the group.” She threatens while raising the whip in her hand, letting the supple leather strands slide across the top of the stock, a couple strands dangling, again brushing across the prisoner’s thrust out breasts blocked from her sight by the stock’s horizontal wooden planks. Staring across, toward the other stock, the brunette, the Captain adds in a louder tone. “Same for you after I’m done over here… You count hers… Then she’ll count yours… Now you know the rules… You’ve seen it all before… Miss a count and it doesn’t count… If she whines, same results!... We can be here all day.”
Glancing back toward the rows of cold, wet naked women, their shivers more then noticeable, she harshly orders in a loud voice. “Arch and spread… Now!” Collectively, almost instantaneously the women jerk to attention, their breasts thrusting outward in unison as their shoulders arch back, their legs spread apart in the splashing water. “Maintain during the punishment!” Her voice echoes across the yard as she slowly surveys the grounds, watching as the guards step between the rows while inspecting each woman, making sure their arms and shoulders are stretching and straining, their bare cunts fully exposed, accessible to the lash. More then a couple flicks of the crops, the smacking of bare tit flesh combine with the lashing of spread thighs as the guards indiscriminately decide whose breasts are or aren’t thrust out enough, whose legs aren’t spread wide enough, until finally silence.
Stepping down the first couple steps of the porch while the pair of exhausted prisoners glance frantically toward one another in the stocks, the Captain leisurely lines herself up with the arched out torso of the black haired girl. Letting the tips of the twisting strands of leather scrape down across the step’s railing as she lets her arm drop down behind her back, briefly glancing back across the compound toward the lined up prisoners all obediently watching as the guards continue to step menacingly between them, she lunges forward with a grunt, her wrist flexing, her arm curling. “Thwack!”
“Oomph!” The breath gushes from the girl’s lungs as the matted strands of twisting leather pounds across the naked flesh of her arched torso as her body jerks in the stocks. Her breasts swaying, bouncing just above and out of touch of the flailing leather, the camp’s prisoner’s can hear the muffled, not so defiant voice of the other girl from behind the horizontal slates of the other stock. “One… That’s one!”
Glancing toward the Doctor, back toward the crisscrossing red welts springing across the prisoner’s flexing torso stretching out from the stock, the Captain twists, backhands the flexing whip upward toward the firm globes, the cold hard nipples. “Thwack!”
“Agghhhh!” More of a loud grunt then a groan with her next breath as both breasts flatten under the curling strands of leather. “Two!” Almost shouted from the brunette, her head tilted in the stock and watching wide eyed, now a tinge more of fear in her voice then defiance, obviously realizing that soon the same routine’s in store for her.
A couple moments hesitation and the Captain takes another step down from the cover of the porch. Reaching out with the whip, flexing it back and forth barely level with the prisoner’s waist, she feels the drops of rain, hears the echoes off the tin roof as it’s suddenly being pelted by thickening drops. Flipping the whip upward, the wet leather slaps across bare flesh. ”Thwack!”
“Umph!” The snapping strands curl between the prisoner’s thighs, slashing between her spread legs directly across her exposed vagina lifting her straining body upwards. More red welts across her quivering thighs, pubic mound as the rain begins to drip from the edge of the metal roof, splashing across, running down the front side of her bare torso. “Three… Three!” The voice behind the other stock, now harder to hear, muffled by the rain collecting across the roof.
Again turning toward the compound’s yard, glancing out over the naked prisoners in their still neat crisp rows, the Captain watches the rain pelting down across their heads, shoulders as they know not to dare to alleviate their painful positions but to allow the rain to uninhibitedly splash across their naked bodies, their bare breasts.
Glancing toward the incoming darkening clouds, nodding toward the uncoated guards, allowing them to break ranks with the prisoners, get shelter from the incoming downpour visibly approaching just outside the compound’s perimeter, the Captain’s the last to climb the steps behind them to stand under the metal porch roof. A flash of lightning, the almost instantaneous clap of thunder, the rows of stark naked women left to the weather barely waver, obviously resisting their almost collective reflexive urges to cover themselves as they stare forward, toward the guards under their shelter from the rain.
Staring back, watching the agonizing looks on face after face, row after row as their naked bodies are pounded in the sudden cloudburst, the Captain also glances past them, toward the enclosed pen, toward the various movements of naked bodies on the crosses, the racks. Smiling to herself, enjoying the combined agony of virtually every single prisoner in the compound, she glances back through the door’s glass, at the Commandant staring back and obviously enjoying the view even more.
Five, ten minutes pass as the cascading rain again comes down in sheets as it did the night before. The deafening clatter across the metal roofs drowns out the whimpers; gasps of the camp’s group of prisoners as their ranks waver, still struggling to maintain their forced posture in the brutal elements. Observing the overall situation, watching torrents of water from the sloped porch roof pouring down across the pair of mounted prisoner’s bodies in the stocks to either side of her, she again glances back toward the Commandant as he nods toward her and the Doctor at her side.
Stepping inside, along with the Doc, they follow the Commandant toward the desk as he sits behind it. Glancing past the pair, out into the yard, he slowly rocks back and forth. A moment of thought, he stops, leans forward. “I’ve been thinking.” He motions toward the outside. “Might as well give each guard a whip and let them complete the punishment in the pen in unison.” Standing, stepping toward the window, he continues. “No need to rotate any of the cunts in this weather… Just beat them… Then get them inside.”
“Okay.” The Captain acknowledges. “How about the pair out front?”
“Just whip the shit out of the one you started with… Then solitary for her.” He answers. “I think we’ll spend the rest of the day letting the Doc here help us with the other… “Right there in her office with both of us… Okay?”
Staring toward the Doctor, getting a positive response, he finishes. “Then order the rest of the prisoners back into their barracks for the day…. After all it’s Sunday, it’s only a half day for them anyway.”
“That’s generous.” The Captain smirks. “Giving them the whole day, huh?”
“Well, it seems they’re all getting a good bath.” He grins. “For the rest of their punishment… Just keep them naked with no bedding until tomorrow before they get their clothes back too… Oh!... And be sure to let the rest of the ones in the pen be returned to their barracks too… Like I said… That’s after they’re whipped of course.”
“Wow.” The Doctor sarcastically smirks as she glances outside at the rows of drenched women wavering to maintain their ranks. “You’re being really generous today… Aren’t you?”
“I was last night too, huh?” He chuckles before adding. “Okay then, Captain … Get to work… Raincoats and whips for the guards… Let’s hear some pussies being whipped out there in that rain before they’re hoarded inside.”
Heading out the door, the Captain shuts it behind her, the Commandant and Doctor casually watching through the glass as she approaches the sergeant with the group of guards huddling around on the porch. Just a couple minutes, the appointed guards are entering the penned area, whips in hand as the Captain positions herself between the pair in the stocks.
The sounds of the whips smacking across naked flesh along with the cries and shrieks of the punished women in the pen override the pattering sound of the metal roof above the office. The guards with their whips can be seen deliberating around the crosses and racks, from one prisoner to the other as the remaining inmates in unison try to maintain their rigid ranks in the yard, staring forward in the downpour while hearing the turmoil behind them.
The Captain, whip in hand again centers on her original target as she steps off the porch. No parka, her uniform soaked in seconds, her braless breasts push against, stretch the virtually transparent material of her blouse as the silhouettes of her thick hard nipples flatten against the stretching material with her motion of each stroke of the whip.
“Thwack… Thwack… Thwack!!” A backhand, forehand followed by another forehand and the whip’s wet leather strands curls across, around the prisoner’s bare hips, then torso, and finally breasts in order. Ignoring the other shackled prisoner’s babblings next to her, barely audible with the now down pouring rain, glancing back at the swaying, struggling ranks of the compound’s prisoners, the remaining guards pressing through their wavering lines, whips in hand to maintain order; she concentrates on flogging the drenched bare breasts swaying in front of her.
“Thwack… Thwack… Thwack… Thwack!!” Back and forth, back and forth all nine wet leather strands repeatedly tear into the red welted bare breasts jerking wildly in front of her. Water splashing from the prisoner’s convulsing torso flicks from the curling leather strands as the Captain’s soaked blouse stretches, snaps a couple buttons allowing a bare breast to jerk back and forth between the lunges, fully exposed to the drenching rain. Losing count, a dozen, even more lashings are delivered across the flailing breasts even as the prisoner’s battered body limply slumps forward, her feet slipping from the posts as her arms and neck stretch in the stock.
Inside, taking in the view of the punishment with the Doctor, the Commandant gruffly taps on the window glass, nods for the Captain. “Enough!” He rasps. “Enough!” Shrugging, again stepping over and sitting back in the desk’s chair while still taking in the outside view, he adds. “I think that’s more then enough… Sometimes she can get carried away you know… Don’t want to permanently damage those young titties, do we?” Turning toward the Doctor still standing at the door, he adds. “Besides, I think it’s about time to bring the other girl in, don’t you?... Tell her to end the punishments… Go ahead and return all the prisoners to their barracks, including the eight in the pen… Do it now.”
Nodding, steeping out onto the porch next to the Captain, she relays the order as she checks on the semiconscious girl in the stock. A couple moments of the Captain huddling with her sergeant, the prisoners lining the wet grounds are soon being herded back toward their barracks as guards in the discipline area have also begun to unshackle those unfortunates. Unshackling the black haired girl from the stock, the Doctor and Captain grip her by the arms and half lead, half drag her through the Doctor’s office to the holding cell, leaving the brunette alone in the other stock.
The camp locked down in a manner of minutes, the yard vacant except for the patrolling guards, the brunette’s the only one left, still in the stocks. Finally administered to, taken into the examination room of the doctor’s office she’s barely able to move on her own. Her arms and legs virtually numb from the hours of being stretched, she’s laid on an examination apparatus face up. Arms hoisted above her head, her legs spread, her wrists and ankles are shackled to the four corners without a struggle.
Barely conscious, she feels her wrists, ankles cuffed and stretched outwards, spread-eagled as her naked body’s practically numb from the overnight exposure and the sporadic downbursts of rain. Being shackled to the stock all night, witnessing the lashing of her friend, physically and mentally she’s drained, exhausted. A bright light suddenly illuminated above the table, twisting her head, squinting, she tries to block the brilliant glare from her eyes. Hearing the stirring around her, the hands manipulating her naked body, she almost resigns herself to whatever’s going to happen… Almost.
An eye mask strapped tightly across her face, a hard ‘O’ ring slipped in her mouth stretching her lips apart, a strap harshly fastened across her forehead and secured beneath her head and she finds herself virtually immobile. Feeling her left ear, right ear plugged, stuffed with gauze, most of her senses are rendered useless.
Her office full of the necessary equipment and supplies, the Doctor collects the various instruments and items needed for the next few hours. The Commandant and Captain the only others in the locked room after dismissing the guards, standing beside the table they’re ready to start with the naked body strapped down in front of them.
“Let’s shave her first.” The Doc offers as she wheels the tray full of supplies next to the table. “From the neck down… Everything… So she’s ready for what she’s facing today.” She continues as she mixes the whitish foam, pours it across the girl’s still damp body
Spreading, covering her arms, legs, between her thighs, across her pubic mound, she lathers, lets the soapy froth cling across the glistening flesh. Reaching on the tray, picking up the old but sharp barber’s straight razor, unfolding it, giving it a couple crisp whisks across the leather strap hanging off the edge of the tray, she holds the edge up toward the light. Gleaming as she twists it back and forth in her hand, she leans over the table. “Wipe as I shave.”
White towel in hand, the Captain steps to the other side of the girl’s prone body, places her free hand across the edge of the table. Flicking, spreading, letting the razor glide through the foam, the Doc effortlessly shaves the naked flesh, cutting through the foam, leaving rows of smooth, glistening flesh. Swiping, wiping with the towel, the Captain keeps the blade clean, the bare flesh exposed.
Feeling the warm foam covering her bare flesh, the cold steel scraping back and forth across her torso, between her thighs, the girl strains to remain motionless. Feeling the razor circling her breasts, sliding around her nipples, she’s almost certain what’s being done. Sensing fingers probing her naked flesh, the blade practically crisscrossing her entire body from her neck down to her ankles, she feels her flesh quivering uncontrollably under the working metal blade.
More alert, her sense of being touched more acute, she feels her chest pounding as the cold blade scrapes across her vulva. She feels fingers manipulating, tugging at the folds of her labia, the blade briskly scraping across, around one, then the other as her own hands reflexively flex, her toes curl. Fingers spreading her butt cheeks apart, her hips hoisted upwards, she feels the blade sliding back and forth between her buttocks, across the rim of her rectum. Holding her breath, anticipating being cut, sliced at any moment, the fear resonates, builds in the pit of her stomach as the uncertain touch of the blade antagonizes her naked flesh.
Continuing to shave, to step toward the head of the table, scraping across the armpits, the forearms, the Doc expertly handles the razor. Momentarily stopping, another couple swipes across the leather strap and she squeezes the base of a breast and lifts, again scrapes the sharp tip across the girl’s bulging areola, circles the nipple as the blade glides crisply back and forth. Releasing that globe, watching it bounce, gently sway, she grips and squeezes the other. Lifting up, swiping the razor back and forth, she lets the glistening blade circle that nipple. A couple flicks followed by a complete circle and the tip of the cold steel barely nips the nub. “Oops!”
Watching the Doc’s almost blithe movements, the Captain and Commandant concentrate, infatuated with the glistening blade, the sight of a slight tinge of blood oozing from the thickening nipple as the Doc continues. Watching the girl’s quivering flesh, her reflexive twitches escalating as the razor continues to dance across her bare globe, around the nicked nub, they can only imagine what she must be thinking as her breast’s released, sways across her chest.
The Doc not hesitating, gliding the razor across the girl’s supple, rippling flesh the blade scrapes downward on the naked body, across, around the flexing navel, again gliding back and forth across the girl’s pubic mound, down between her thighs, circling her spread vagina as the Doc slips her index finger into the moist tunnel, letting the blade glide around it.
Glancing toward the towel following her hand, the Doc raises the razor, closes and drops it on the tray in her constant, smooth motion. “All done… Smooth as a baby’s butt.” She smirks as she picks up a second towel, swipes it back and forth across the girl’s freshly shaven torso, across and between her thighs and legs, finally dabbing at the trickle of blood of the nicked nipple. “Those scrapes from her trip through the woods were all superficial.” She quips, running her fingers over the barely discolored marks left from the scratches. “Well, she’s ready.”
End Part Two
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