Crime & Punishment in the Gynarchy X
Crime & Punishment in the Gynarchy X - Part One
By Slave Paul
Although the ever growing colony of the rather hastily named Gynarchy X was born from the same ideals and laws of the mainland Gynarchy (referred to locally as the ‘Motherland’), many differences had emerged between them. The recent crisis regarding the lack of trained foot-slaves for young Gynarchy X women had finally passed, thanks to the controversial POPSS (Periods Of Prolonged Slave Shortage) laws. The success of the new statute meant that a return to standard crime and punishment procedures could be made. The conscription act was relaxed to only enlist the very lowest class of free-male citizens of the land. Standard prison sentences were once again the norm for infractions of the Female State law.
Normality is, however, a rather ‘flexible’ description for the standard operating penal system. The Motherland still sends women found guilty of serious crimes to prison (although these institutions are likened to five star hotels rather than prisons). In the Free States of Gynarchy X, on the other hand, only males are sent to prison!
Ever since the founding of the independent states of the Gynarchy X, all registered females and free-males had to attend a Gynarchy X prison to be made aware of the possible penalties for any transgression of the law! This system was somewhat unfair, as in the States of the Gynarchy X it is illegal to actually send a woman to prison, as it is deemed too harsh a punishment! Therefore, men are the only actual residents of the many penal institutions of this great, fledgling nation!
As recorded in the founding document of independence (lifted from other historical texts):
‘No woman shall suffer as a man must, in the name of judicial punishment. Thus, a woman should not be put in irons; nor sent to the galleys; nor placed in a prison, which might enfeeble her body or wound her, or cause her to lose her memory, for women are frail by nature, but superior in intellect!’
…
Paul was the devoted boyfriend of his beloved Camilla. They had been an unmarried, but devoted, couple for some five years in the Gynarchy Motherland prior to moving to the Free States of Gynarchy X some two years ago.
Their choice to move and join the ever growing populace of the breakaway States was based solely on the cost of living. Everything in the Free States of Gynarchy X was half the price compared to mainland life! It was certainly not a decision made based on the ideal of total male oppression and accountability!
Miss Camilla was a very serious young lady indeed; she was solely focussed on furthering her career in the legal advice profession. She would occasionally relax and allow herself to enjoy life, but was on the whole a highly driven and motivated individual with little time for frivolity!
Paul was more of an easy going, free-male about town sort of man. Although he adored the highly focussed and professionally driven apple of his eye, he himself was somewhat more laid back and nonchalant. The young couple could be described as rather solitary, in that they were not really part of the local scene. They were both happy in their own little world together, which was one of the deciding factors in their eventual emigration to the Free States.
On completion of her hectic day in her new, adopted Gynarchy, Camilla would allow her long brunette locks to unwind from her ultra-intelligent head, and put her feet up with a glass of wine as Paul cooked the evening meal.
Another event-free month passed swiftly by for the couple as they went innocently about their new Gynarchy X lives. Then, one morning, an official-looking letter arrived on the doorstep marked for the attention of Miss Camilla. Paul passed it to his beloved to open and read while she swiftly ate her breakfast. Camilla was somewhat surprised at the letter’s official content. It took her a few moments to re-read and digest. She eventually began to read the content of the document verbatim to her partner:
‘Dear Miss Camilla, You are hereby ordered to attend the male prison: Homines manicis No28 with your male partner Mr: name unknown to undergo your mandatory, routine, prison reform induction as immigrants to the Free States Of Gynarchy X. Your appointed tour guide will be Guard Mistress Maxine. She will show you the consequences of any breach of the laws and statutes that all citizens of these Free States have agreed to. Please direct all queries to appointed Guard Mistress Maxine at the aforementioned prison.’
Miss Camilla was intelligent enough to know that ‘homines manicis’ meant ‘manacled men’ in Latin!
The pair were somewhat surprised at this latest edict that had been issued to them! They were aware of the prison tours that were offered in the local towns, but had assumed that they were meant for more staunch supporters of corporal punishment and bondage-fetish couples; not for everyone!
Miss Camilla turned to Paul and said:
‘Not to worry; I will check things over at the legal agency later, and see if we can get out of it!’
They parted company with a small, but efficient, kiss. Everything about Miss Camilla was geared to maximum efficiency and productivity!
…
Upon her weary return home late that evening, Camilla announced that the prison visits were indeed mandatory, and that they would both have to attend the prison tour, or risk being exiled from the Free States! Camilla therefore set about booking the visit, before eating the lovingly prepared meal made for her by her live-in boyfriend, Paul. The visit was planned for three days hence!
Neither Paul nor Camilla were much looking forward to the visit. Paul had read about the terribly harsh conditions that existed in the female-run prisons of the Gynarchy X! He had no interest in seeing men being punished, whipped, beaten and chained up in cells! Camilla was also no advocate of corporal punishment. Although a natural born ‘Motherland girl’, she had never owned a male-slave or displayed any signs of joy at seeing men suffering! She was a female pacifist-workaholic who just wanted a simple life!
…
The dreaded day finally loomed. Although the couple had been residents of the country for two years now, they were still quite unfamiliar with the many customs and rules of the Free States. Thus, it came as quite a shock when they arrived at the front doors of the prison and saw a large, brass plaque announcing to all visitors:
“No male shall be allowed to pass beyond this point unless bare chested!”
This was ridiculous, thought Paul! He flagged the attention of a passing security guard and enquired as to the validity of the placard above the door.
‘Oh that is most assuredly correct, Madam and Sir! No fully clothed men beyond this point. You may hang your shirt on one of the hooks provided, Sir, but you must disrobe as a sign of respect to the female-dominated, official building that you are about to enter!’
Paul was at the same time furious and embarrassed! He was no bodybuilder! He was, in fact, quite chubby, and a little embarrassed of his portly figure! Disrobing was at the bottom of his to do list! But it was obvious that if they were to get through today without any problems, Paul would have to follow ALL of the rules from now on. He slowly pulled the buttons undone on his shirt. He felt so stupid standing around on the street corner bare chested in the cold winter air. They pressed the buzzer for attention and moments later the door opened!
The couple were greeted with a rather enthusiastic, stern-faced, female prison-guard in official uniform:
‘Welcome! My name is “Guard Mistress Maxine”, but you can call me “Max”! It will be my job to show you round today.’
Paul took this opportunity to ascertain how long they were to be detained:
‘Erm… excuse me, Max. How long will all of this take? We have got lots to do this afternoon and need to…’
‘QUIET! YOU will call ME “GUARD MISTRESS MAXINE”! Only your Partner may call me “Max”! Understood?
‘Yes, Guard Mistress Maxine! Sorry!’, Paul stammered with a real sense of shock and fear!
Maxine obviously had taken an instant dislike to him!
Guard Mistress Maxine began the unwanted tour of the male prison:
‘First, we have the booking hall. This is where the male convict arrives from female court. He is stripped naked for a very in-depth search, before being issued with his prison-uniform shorts. We like to take our time over this process, as it is very humiliating and degrading for the prisoner! We love to watch the fear and trepidation setting in to his face at this point!... Now it’s on to the cells…’
They were escorted through to the cell area behind bars. All of the little iron hatches to the solitary confinement cells were locked ominously closed! The couple looked on in amazement at the huge array of tiny cells. Mistress Maxine took great delight in opening the door to a vacant cell to show the visiting couple inside!
It was so small and claustrophobic that Miss Camilla instantly turned and fled, panting in fear!
Now it was Paul’s turn!
‘Step inside, Sir, and have a good look round!’
Paul took the dreaded step over the threshold into the male solitary-confinement cell and was shocked at the sight that awaited him! A small, windowless cell with no fresh air, and dark, stone clad walls, with multiple iron rings doubtlessly meant for hanging manacles and restraints from!
He was so busy looking at the cramped conditions he did not even notice the iron door being flung closed behind him! The lock was hastily closed tight; he was trapped!
‘Help! Let me out, please!’
Miss Camilla was not impressed either:
‘Open the door, please, Max! That is so cruel!’
Guard Mistress Maxine begrudgingly relented and opened the cell door saying:
‘If you were a real prisoner, you would have no say in the opening of that door!’
She then, very calmly, continued the tour:
‘All males not on lock down, or confined in their cells, are masked. This is a basic, dull and featureless, leather hood that is buckled over the prisoner’s head. It bears his prison number and nothing else. This system ensures total isolation throughout imprisonment! Here have a look at this one; I think it would improve your boyfriend’s features no end, Miss! HA!’
Miss Maxine held the oppressive-looking mask up to Paul’s innocent, male face for Miss Camilla to see. Again she was unimpressed! She held out her arm and moved the leather hood away saying:
‘Enough! That is so cruel! This is a terrible place! Can we move on, please?’
Next on the tour was the restraint room. This was a large, locked room that contained the plethora of ancient and modern restraints which had been sourced by the prison, or donated by the good womenfolk of the outside world. This was one of Guard Maxine’s favourite parts of the prison! She spent a good long while explaining the origins and functions of the various cruel-looking and oppressive restraint devices.
At one of the hooks at the far end of the room, Miss Maxine suddenly stopped and unhooked her favourite pair of reproduction, mediaeval wrist shackles. She held the iron jewellery out to Paul and commented that they would suit him!
‘Have you ever been shackled before?’
‘No, I am happy to say I have not!’
‘Well, you must allow me to put these on you, then? Here, hold out your hands, please!’
‘NO thank you, Miss Maxine!’, interjected the rather shrill tones of Miss Camilla! ‘We are not here for that sort of thing! Could you just show us to the next place of interest on this mandatory tour, please?’
‘Sorry, Miss, but I must insist! Hold still while I put these on you, Sir!’
Paul was swiftly clapped in irons, for some reason? It transpires that inside these walls no reason is needed! All males are under the complete control of the female prison guards, even free-male visitors!
‘Good, that looks better! I told you that they would suit him. HA! Now, on to the next part’.
The bemused couple were then ushered into the punishment section of the prison. This housed the whip rack; the braziers; and all of the other terrible judicial instruments of Gynarchy X torture. Guard Mistress Maxine continued the tour by announcing that any kind of punishment additional to imprisonment can be prescribed by the guards. It was totally dependent on the whim of the guard Mistress:
‘For example, I like to make the convict enter the foot-box!’
She pointed with her long, painted, index fingernail to the rough, wooden contraption on the stone floor. Paul was too busy fingering the heavy and unlawfully applied manacles on his wrists to notice at this point:
‘My socks are always trapped away inside my smelly uniform boots! So I love sticking my sweaty-socked feet in through the sealed rubber holes of the foot-box, and making the convict sniff them for hours at a time! OHH, the feeling of power!’
Paul was already baulking at the very notion of sniffing Guard Mistress Maxine’s sweaty, uniform socks!
‘Other guard Mistresses like to deliver a good, hard whipping! Still others prefer the branks; and some hanker for the rack; and so on. As you can see, we have a fully equipped torture chamber, and the skill to use it. Naturally, foot servitude is one of the main aspects of prison life here; I would say THE main aspect. HA!’
Miss Camilla was truly mortified at the site of some of the more recognisable instruments of torture such as the rack! On the ‘Motherland’, ‘torture’ was officially outlawed, even in the male prisons (though much would depend on your definition of ‘torture’!) But she had, somewhat naively, thought that such implements of terror, conceived in the midst of the dark ages but now spread out before her, had died out long ago?
Guard Mistress Maxine was enjoying the terrified appearance on Paul’s face, and wanted to push him further down the road of male fear:
‘So tell me, Sir, have you ever had to smell truly ripe female socks before? I am intrigued.’
‘No, Guard Mistress Maxine madam. I have never been subjected to such a humiliating and degrading experience, and never want to be either!’
‘Well, it is not up to you, laddy! You can start by sniffing my well-worn, navy blue issue socks and by begging for release from my irons!’
Maxine was already lowering the zipper on her prison-issue, flat heel, ankle boots for Paul to sniff. She had forgotten that Paul was no prisoner, and this was just a familiarisation visit!
Miss Camilla shrieked at her:
‘That is enough! I have had it with you treating my partner like this! Stop it now, or I will report you to the prison governess, Guard Mistress Maxine!’
The uniformed prison officer looked genuinely shocked! She was guilty of losing control! She looked Miss Camilla apologetically in the eyes, and in a sorrowful tone said:
‘I’m so sorry, Miss. I have gotten so used to talking to men like that, it is just second nature to me now!’
‘That is alright, Miss Maxine. You have proved your point. My Paul will never stray from the female law of the land, and you have frightened him onto the straight and narrow! Now, if you could kindly remove those horrible, male manacles from his wrists and show us to the exit, we would be most grateful?’
Paul was indeed most grateful! He was grateful of the fact that he had Miss Camilla on his side! What would have happened if he had been there on his own? How far would things have gone? Thank heavens for his guardian angel!
Guard Mistress Maxine set about begrudgingly removing her favourite set of man-shackles from Paul’s soon-to-be-free wrists! She jabbed him purposefully with the key, causing a yelp!
A while later the couple were once again outside the walls of the oppressive, male prison. Paul could not get his shirt back on quick enough! For the first time in their relationship Miss Camilla turned to him and said:
‘You could always sniff my socked feet after work, if you wish darling?’
Paul was amazed and shocked! Camilla’s face erupted into laughter as she shouted:
‘EEEW! Imagine having to smell socks and sweaty bare feet for the rest of your life, eh? HAHAHHA!’
She was just joking! Phew!
Paul and Camilla were allowed to return home from the prison that afternoon. Imagine being confined there for a five, or even ten, year sentence! Paul was pondering that - a truly terrible thought!
…
Barely three months later, and with absolutely no warning, Miss Camilla announced over a well-prepared meal that she had met someone else, and wanted Paul to leave both her and the house they had bought together!
Paul was dumfounded! Where had this all come from? It was truly an unexpected turn of events that left his head spinning! Miss Camilla had met someone else and begun seeing him during work hours! Worse still, in the Free States of Gynarchy X, he could not oppose or appeal against her female-unfaithful decision! He had no option but to literally give away half of his life savings!
Paul all too soon found himself walking the streets. Being a homeless free-male is a dangerous situation to be in, on the mean streets of the Gynarchy X. The local, female police have the power to arrest homeless, stray males and sign them up for national service as a foot-slave! Paul had to get his life back on track – and fast!
He used the little money he raised from selling his belongings to rent a small room over a bar in the centre of the main town. He would frequently allow himself to fall into a drunken stupor on the cheap booze that flowed all too freely in that rough part of town. But one such booze-filled afternoon saw Paul’s luck change for the better!
He was being watched from across the bar by a very vibrant-looking, young female! She was wearing garish, miss-matched clothing consisting of a luminous-orange, fluffy pullover; lime green lycra leggings; and hefty, platform-soled training shoes! Each shoe had opposingly coloured chunky laces loosely looped through the large holes. Her socks were also from different pairs; on the left foot was a fluffy towelling sock in an electric-neon pink; on the right foot was a smooth cotton, cobalt blue ankle sock! Most unusual!
Her thin stature, and natural pretty features, made her a very attractive sight to behold (not that anyone could miss her, dressed like that!) Her face was partially covered by peroxide-bleached curls that came down to her shoulders. Her hair was sticking to her face, due to all of the perspiration caused by her dancing!
To Paul’s utter surprise, she was swaggering over towards him, and shouted into his ear above the din of the pub music:
‘HI THERE! MY NAME IS GERI; WHAT’S YOURS?’
‘I’M PAUL. I HAVE NOT SEEN YOU HERE BEFORE, GERI?’
‘NO; I AM NORMALLY PART OF THE FIXTURES AND FITTINGS, BUT HAVE BEEN ‘UNEXPECTEDLY DETAINED’, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN?’
Miss Geri was evidently referring to prison! But that was not possible in this country, surely? Paul was perplexed!
‘I AM A BIT OF A GOOD-TIME GIRL, YOU SEE? I FOUND MYSELF OVER THE BORDER WITH A FEW NAUGHTY ITEMS, IN PILL FORM, ON ME. THEY PUT ME INSIDE FOR FOUR WHOLE MONTHS! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? THIS IS MY SORT OF ‘CELEBRATION PARTY’, SO TO SPEAK – TO CELEBRATE MY RELEASE! WANT TO JOIN IN?’
Paul needed no encouragement at all! He happily joined in the female-freedom festivities.
…
Several hours passed by, and most of Miss Geri’s friends dispersed. Eventually, only Paul and Geri herself were left at the bar. Geri was still shouting, even though the music had long since been turned off:
‘SO,WHERE DO YOU LIVE, PAUL?’
I currently live here; well, upstairs, at least! HA!’
‘WOW! THAT IS SO COOL! CAN WE GO AND SEE PLEASE? MY FEET ARE KILLING ME! THESE SHOES ARE TOO SMALL FOR MY FEET, I THINK. IF YOU’RE NICE, I WILL LET YOU RUB THEM FOR ME! HA!’
Paul was very taken with this bright and vivacious, young woman, and wanted to keep her happy. He was not keen on the foot massage idea, but was very keen on starting a new relationship! He would do whatever it took to keep her happy!
They made their way up to Paul’s bedsitting room. Paul poured Miss Geri a large drink (all added to his growing bar-tab) and they sat down on the sofa to relax. Miss Geri wasted no time in swinging her feet onto his lap:
‘Well, I heard no objections earlier! You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Oh! No… no problem at all! Here, let me remove your shoes.’
Paul slackened the luminous laces and pulled harshly at the shoes. They were removed quite efficiently with a large, two-handed pull. The shoes came off with such force that the left, neon-pink towelling sock rucked up over the ball of the girl’s foot. Paul could clearly see the heavy sweat staining on the right, cobalt-blue cotton sock material. She was apparently perspiring from all of that exertion!
One thing was for sure, though - Paul did NOT like feet! This was going to be a real chore for him, but he hoped it would be a worthwhile one!
Paul set about gently massaging her socked feet, as Geri continued filling Paul in about her eventful life so far. She seemed such an interesting person and had done so many things, unlike his previous girlfriend, Miss Camilla.
Another hour slipped by (the smell of sweaty feet did not relent) and Miss Geri suddenly barked in an altogether different tone:
‘If you remove my socks and rub a bit harder, I will tell you about the time they found me with two stolen cars and an empty bottle of vodka! OHH! I had to watch some poor, half-witted slave-man being whipped at my feet for hours on that one! HA!’
Paul did not want to have to touch her dirty, sweaty bare feet at all, but, he did want to hear the latest story! He pulled tautly at the pink towelling sock, as he decided it would be the easiest material to remove. It transpires that he was correct! The sock flew off with ease! He was caught staring at the bare, white foot with his mouth agasp!
‘What’s wrong, Paul?’
‘Oh nothing; please carry on, Geri!’
Paul was amazed to see that her garish colour mismatch was not confined to her clothing! Each of her precious toenails were painted a different, vibrant colour in the most colourful array of varnishes he had ever clapped eyes on! It was a true cross-section of the rainbow spectrum!
Miss Geri continued relaying her fascinating life-story as Paul gently rolled the cotton material of the blue cotton sock down, and finally tugged it off her toes with a pained expression at the damp feel of the sweat-ingrained material! Paul was once again stunned, as he had expected to see another blinding array of coloured feminine toenails. He was instead presented with five perfectly formed and graduated female toes, coated in lush, black nail varnish (all black; no colours). What an intriguing young woman she is! All he had to do now was to get to grips with her clammy, warm, bare soft white feet (softened by sweat) in order to earn another story; and dare he wish it, perhaps a little female adoration from this absolutely fascinating creature?
…
Months later and life was a busy and enjoyable blur! Paul and Miss Geri were officially a couple and living together in an opulent apartment! It seemed that Miss Geri was not only a casual user of illegal substances; she was also a supplier, hence the degree of opulence they found themselves residing in!
Paul knew the risks she was taking, of course. But they desperately needed the money in the early days. Now they were quite well off, and could live comfortably without the need for any high-risk, criminal activity.
One evening Paul broached the subject with his newly beloved partner. Geri insisted, however, that the thrill was in the chase, and that she could not simply sit back and relax! Paul could not dissuade her from this risky course of action!
One fateful afternoon, the inevitable happened. Miss Geri was arrested for attempting to smuggle illegal substances in a stolen vehicle across the Gynarchy X border! She was returned home and placed under house arrest to await further instructions. Needless to say, Miss Geri completely disregarded the house arrest order, and would break curfew on a nightly basis. She was always caught and brought home by two female officers of the law. This all seemed to be some sort of a joke, until one day a letter arrived. Geri was too hungover to read the document, so asked Paul to read it to her. The letter read:
‘Dear Miss Geri, You have been found guilty of the following charges:
1. Driving a stolen vehicle over the border with the Motherland, with no passport.
2. Attempting to smuggle illegal substances into the Free States Of Gynarchy X.
3. Breaking house arrest on no less than three occasions.
Due to the seriousness of these crimes committed against the State, we hereby sentence you to EIGHT YEARS IMPRISONMENT! To make this sentence a punishment, you must now select a loved one (Male) to serve the full sentence on your behalf. You will despatch your chosen nominee to the prison: Homines manicis No28 tomorrow, and have him surrender to Prison Guard Mistress Maxine for incarceration!’
Paul was speechless, how could they treat his vibrant, if hot-headed, girlfriend in this way, like a common criminal? Miss Geri simply smiled at him wistfully, and said in a deep tone of voice:
‘I do love you Paul! And I promise I will come and visit you!’
‘Oh no!... No!... Not me? Please!...’
…
The next day, full of tears, Paul made his way on foot, alone, to the dreaded male prison. He arrived at the door and presented the letter asking for permission to be locked up for the next eight years!
This time he was assisted (roughly) out of his shirt by two female guards. They brought him up before Mistress Maxine!
Ominously, she remembered him!
‘Oh! It’s you! Thank heavens for that! I have wanted to make you suffer for what that Camilla bitch shouted at me all of those months ago! HA! Now, can you remember from our little tour what comes next, Mr Convict Sir?’
‘Yes, Prison Guard Mistress Maxine; the intimate strip search, if it so pleases you, most respected Guard Mistress?’
As it transpires, the strip search did please Prison Officer Guard Mistress Maxine very much indeed! It took three whole hours of cold, humiliating, close observation in order to satisfy the sadistic prison tormentress that he wasn’t concealing anything he shouldn’t be! Prisoner Paul was actually delighted to receive the tight-fitting, black and white, lycra prison uniform shorts; he could not get them on fast enough!
‘Now then, you vile creepy convict, off we go to the restraint room!’
Guard Mistress Maxine loved the next part of the prisoner induction-process; choosing the restraints for the new prisoner! Prisoner Paul had a feeling that he would be receiving special treatment!
‘I think you will be my new “bucking bronko” prisoner! How many different restraints do you think will I be able to get onto you before you collapse? 15-20? Mmm… let’s see, shall we?’
A wild array of mediaeval and modern restraints were affixed to the unwilling prisoner. Guard Mistress Maxine counted to 18 before the prisoner slumped to the ground in a heap of twisted metal and hefty chain links! He was wearing three iron collars of different thicknesses; five sets of leg irons; six sets of wrist shackles; two iron belts with heavy chain loops attached; and a ball and chain on each ankle - all affixed with internal locking mechanisms and secure padlocks!
Guard Mistress Maxine was in a sense of deep joy! She loved the fact that he was now completely under her control, and that she, literally, held the keys to his freedom!
‘What do you think we need to fit to you next, Mr prisoner - when you are out of your cell, that is?’
‘Begging your pardon, Guard Mistress Maxine, but, if it so pleases you Madam, my anonymity mask?’
‘Oh the mask? I was referring to a bow tie! Oh well, if you want to have your mask fitted, who am I to argue? Here, let me fit it for you!’
Mocking Mistress Maxine was a superb exponent of sarcasm! She buckled the thin, black, temporary leather hood over his hapless head so that only his nose, eyes and lips were visible. The mask bore his new name on the forehead in white: No 27.
‘My, that suits you No.27! You make a good convict, Mr Chubby!’
Chubby Prisoner No.27 was then dragged unceremoniously along the prison corridors, in his dehumanizing mask and outlandish collection of manacles, to his cell which was also numbered 27!
‘Come in, number twenty seven; your time is up! HA!’
Mistress Maxine was loving this! The door to his cramped cell was swung loudly shut, and noisily locked and bolted behind him. Maxine had forgotten to remove his anonymity mask in her horny haste! No. 27 could not remove the buckled face-mask himself, as his hands were clamped to his sides. He therefore just slumped to the floor and decided to read the prison rules, painted on a large plaque next to the cell-door. They read:
Only two rules exist in this prison; they will be obeyed at all times:
1. Rule ONE, you are here to suffer!
2. Rule TWO, obey all the rules!
…
Two days passed by very slowly indeed. Guard Mistress Maxine could contain herself no longer, and simply had to visit her new ‘toy’!
The door was finally opened at lunch time on the third day.
‘Out, prisoner!’
He shuffled in his irons onto the concrete floor.
‘I will play fair by you, prisoner 27. Each month with no demerit marks against your name, will earn you the release from one set of shackles of my choosing! However, one demerit means the addition of two sets of shackles, and 50 licks of the cat! Get it?’
It was a fair enough system, Paul thought. Good behaviour= reward; bad behaviour= suffering!
‘Yes, most powerful Prison Guard Mistress Maxine!’
No. 27 took the unusually, for him, keen decision to fall down to the floor and kiss the heavily-scuffed, ankleboot toes of his capricious captor! This impressed Maxine no end!
‘HA! I may allow you a few hours alone with my socks later, if you behave yourself prisoner!’
‘Oh thank you, most merciful Mistress Goddess Maxine!’
‘I do not think you will be calling me ‘merciful’ in a short while, mister! Follow me as fast as you can!’
Prisoner No. 27 obediently shuffled along in his chains as quickly as he could. It was not meant to be easy to drag one, let alone two, cast iron balls plus one hundredweight of chain around with you!
They arrived at a narrow passageway that was lit by stark, overhead lighting. Maxine turned and faced the convict with an evil smile:
‘This is your welcome-introduction to prison life. Nothing here is fair any more; you are about to take the ‘scourge-run’, purely because I have selected you for it!’
The ‘scourge-run’? As the still masked prisoner looked down the corridor he could see several other guard Mistresses emerge from cell doorways. They were all brandishing different types of whip! They stood mockingly and haughtily in the doorways. All of the vicious vixens were fingering their whip of choice!
‘New prisoners selected for the scourge-run have to run the 100ft corridor and reach the yellow ‘door of salvation’ at the end. My colleagues will do their level best to whip and cut away at your flesh. Some will doubtlessly try to trip you over. If you value your hide, do not fall - as they will gladly remove it for you! I am not joking; this is really dangerous, prisoner! I do not fancy your chances in those leg irons! Good luck! HA!’
Mistress Maxine then took her place at the start of the corridor, and selected her favourite prison-bullwhip! Prisoner No. 27 could count at least two dozen young, female guards all ready for the fevered whipping session to begin! Every whip imaginable was in that confined, tunnel-like corridor of male doom! A shrill whistle sounded the start of the run!
The convicted felon pulled both his shackled legs alternately forward as fast as they could go, dragging the huge metal encumbrances behind him! He was desperate to gather momentum before entering the tunnel. Harder and harder he tried, until he reached his terminal velocity of around three measly miles per hour! It was not going to be enough; here comes pain!
The first lash hit him across the bare chest, courtesy of Mistress Maxine; the second cat-o-nine tail whip opened up his rib cage just below his right nipple; the third and fourth blows were high, and hit his hooded face! He was actually glad of the leathery mask, for it at least offered his face some protection!
He was suddenly aware of one of the girls heading for the ball and chain on his left ankle. She was trying to deliberately slow down his progress through the tunnel! He must not let her! The blonde Guard Mistress missed the iron ball and chipped her fingernail as it rebounded off the stone wall as the panicky prisoner pumped his convict legs furiously! Suddenly, one of the sets of leg irons with the longer chain swung around underneath his foot and tripped him! He could see the floor approaching rapidly!
If he stopped, or hesitated, it would mean a possible death sentence, as he did not know how far his tormentresses would go! He therefore powered on through the fall, ever onwards towards the ‘yellow door of salvation’! All of this excitement, and he was not even half way down the corridor! Female lash after female lash was laid on him! A buxom, redheaded guard threw her arms round him in an attempt to bring him down. She was herself hurt in the frenzied whipping session! This gave No. 27 the chance he needed. He made a last push for the yellow door and on to safety! He was now within just three feet of the door; one last “thwack” sound, and a helpful push forward from the thickest bulls-pizzle whip he had ever seen, and he was there; salvation!
…
Prisoner No. 27 passed out immediately after reaching the door. He awoke several hours later, laying on a cold concrete floor with Guard Mistress Maxine towering over him:
‘How are we doing there, convict? Did you enjoy your fun-run?’
Maxine wasted no time in waiting for a response. She moved momentarily out of view to collect her favourite instrument of torture; the foot-box! His head was locked into the box and a bright light came on illuminating the inside of the dreaded box. Prisoner No. 27 could now hear Guard Mistress Maxine removing her boots outside the box, and saying:
‘Where’s your girlfriend now? Who will stop me now, hey?’
She was right! He would have done anything to have his little guardian angel, Camilla, at his side right now!
‘I bet you could do with a nice, long sniffing session with my socks right now, couldn’t you convict? Might help to wake you up? HA!’
The bright light made it easier to see, in great detail, her right-socked foot being forced into the box through the rubber gaiter. The air was suddenly filled with toxic foot smell! It had nowhere to go, but up his nose. Mistress Maxine kept him like this for six hours! He had been a prisoner for three days and still not been fed yet! Her socks were the nearest thing he had had to a meal!
…
Days turned into weeks; weeks into months; and months into years. Prisoner No. 27 was getting quite used to prison life by the end of his fifth year behind bars. Mistress Geri never did attend a visiting session, after all. Guard Mistress Maxine, however, still loved tormenting her favourite prisoner, even after all this time; so at least she was true to her word!
At night, in his cell, he had his mask removed, and he was now down to one set of wrist shackles only! He was even getting to like the tangy, cheese smell of Guard Mistress Maxine’s sweaty bootsocks (not that she much cared whether he liked it or not!). At least the end of his 8 year sentence was in sight. Only another three years to go!
…
One afternoon, as Maxine had sentenced Prisoner No. 27 to an evening on the rack, the telephone on the wing started ringing. Before she departed to answer it, she turned and ordered the masked prisoner on the crank to move the arm one ratchet per minute in her absence. or he would replace No. 27 on the stretching device!
After what seemed like an eternity, Maxine returned in floods of tears! She perfunctorily slapped the rack master prisoner across the face, and locked him into a small cage in the torture chamber filled with tatty, worn socks. She then released her ‘favourite’ prisoner from the rack, and explained what had just happened:
‘That was the Governess, Mrs Stevens. Your sentence has been quashed No. 27! You are no longer a prisoner!’
She was fighting back the tears as the words left her lips (she was still digging her long fingernails into the nipple on the right side of his bare chest as she sobbed, mind you). Paul, as he could now refer to himself once more, hastily ripped the black leather mask off his face in triumph!
FREEDOM!
‘Not so fast, ex-convict! You have not been freed, as such. The outside world has changed a lot since you came here. They have reintroduced the POPPS (Periods Of Prolonged Slave Shortage) law! You have therefore been immediately re-sentenced to life as a foot-slave, without parole! I will, at least, have the honour of fitting you with your new, permanent “old lag” cangue, before turning you over to the authorities!’
Guard Mistress Maxine then mockingly sang ‘For the sake of old lag cangue’, to the tune of ‘Auld Lang Syne’!’
Paul was stunned. He had been freed, and rearrested, in the space of a minute, and was now doomed to a life of foot-obsessed slavery! He would never again be free!
He was beside himself with terror. If only he had stayed with his twin brother in the Motherland! Prisons, and the laws, are very different there!
End of part one…
