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The Whipping Post



It was becoming light and I began to have second thoughts.
Real bright, I told myself, it's a little late to have second
thoughts now. I had already had my chance. I recalled the
chance only too well, now that it was too late.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Rayleen?" Jemsa
asked quietly, somewhat unsure about the deed now that we had
actually arrived.
"Yes. Do it quickly, before I lose my nerve," I replied.
She looked as if she doubted the wisdom of my decision,
then her face split into a wide grin. "No wonder your parents
were at their wits end. Gods, Rayleen, you're wild! I could
never do this."
I held out my hands and she placed the cuffs on my wrists,
snug but not tight. Then I stepped up to the post and wrapped
my arms around it. On the other side of the post Jemsa took
the cuffs and laced them to the ring. She then raised the ring
until my hands were about at the level of my head. It was not
too uncomfortable.
There were only two things left to do, and Jemsa moved
around the post to do them. First she unfastened my belt,
allowing the simple covering--a blanket with a hole in it for
my head--to come loose, then she pulled it up over my head and
off me. There I was--naked. Naked and tied to the whipping
post in the town square. Fortunately it was a very warm night.
Well, truth be told, were it not a warm night I wouldn't be
doing this. Had I not a friend like Jemsa, I wouldn't be
doing this. But it was a warm night, I did have a friend like
Jemsa and I was doing this.
It had long been a fantasy of mine, ever since my parents
had one day threatened me with the post. That was after I'd
gotten into so much trouble that I thought I'd never get out.
After that, the post had fascinated me. As I grew older, and
'blossomed' it fascinated me even more, though I don't know
why. Now I was on my own and it seemed a good time to allow
the fantasy to become reality.
I no longer lived in the town, so no one would be
expecting me. That brought me to the last thing left to be
done--the mask. I had braided my long hair and coiled it
about the top of my head. Now Jemsa would put on the cloth
hood which would cover my head and face. It had eye-holes
so I could see out; air-holes so I could breath; and, though
it did not cover my mouth, I felt sure that no one would
recognize me. And I had Jemsa as guardian. She would not
let anyone unmask me and, if things became too rough, she
would be there to set me free and help me escape, identity
still concealed.
Jemsa placed the hood over my head and adjusted it
carefully. "Can you see?"
"Yes. And the breathing holes are well placed, too," I
informed her. It was good to have a friend like Jemsa.
"Good." Jemsa kneeled down and placed something about
my right ankle.
"What are you doing," I hissed at her, trying to look
down between my arm and the post. The mask, my breast and
my closeness to the post prevented my seeing what she was
doing.
"Just completing the fantasy for you," she giggled.
I tried to wrest my ankle from her, but it was too late.
Then she grabbed my left ankle and repeated the procedure.
I could not see, but there was no doubt that she had attached
ankle cuffs to me. Then she began pulling and both feet were
drawn forward, one on either side of the post.
"Jemsa!" What was she doing? This had been no part of
the plan. "Jemsa!" I hissed a little louder as my balance
began to go and my arms had to take up the strain. The post
was now between my legs, touching me like a lover in my secret
spot, and I was forced to hang on to it, hug it like a lover
to keep the strain from my shoulders. However, I knew I
wouldn't be able to keep it up, that my arms would soon tire,
then my shoulders would bear the strain. It would be too much.
"Don't worry, Rayleen. I've a present for you, too."
I felt the leather strap go around the small of my back
and take up the slack. Now I could lean into it, be supported
by it. That was the advantage. The disadvantage was that it
kept me tight against the post--right where the fire was
beginning to burn within me. I could move away slightly, but
only by taking the strain on my arms. I knew that I'd need
that strength later, so I resigned myself to having my
whipping-post lover tight against me.
"Just one more thing and we're done," Jemsa whispered
to me.
"What? What other thing? You've already gone too far."
"We can't have you trying to talk your way out of this,
Rayleen. It would spoil the fantasy for you. Open wide."
She held up a bit--like a horse would wear--for my inspection.
"Not a chance. I won't," I refused through clenched
teeth.
"Oh, I think you will," her voice was calm and she seemed
very sure of herself. There was a nasty edge to her voice that
I didn't like at all. "Because, if you don't open wide, I'm
afraid that the whipping will begin now, just after I remove
your hood."
"Jemsa . . ." I pleaded; but there she stood, implacable.
When her hand moved toward the whip, hanging from the post, I knew
I was defeated and opened my mouth wide. She grinned and
placed the bit in my mouth. It wouldn't prevent me from making
sounds, though it would muffle them; it would merely make talking
almost impossible. The bit was just leather, not at all hard on
me, and I felt it fastened at the back of my head.
Jemsa's hand patted my bare bottom. Her hand went up and
I saw her take down the whip. The traitor!
"Sorry, Rayleen, but I have to do this. I won't ever get
another chance and I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't." She
didn't sound sorry, the little vixen.
There was a light swish, then fire bathed my backside and
my body jerked against the post as I gave a little yelp. Jemsa
had not struck hard, yet hard enough for me to feel it most
fully. With the strike I'd ground myself into the post and
other fires began to smolder.
Jemsa's lips were next to my ear. "Did you like that,
Rayleen?"
"No more" I tried to say.
"More? Of course, Rayleen, whatever you want."
She paid no attention to the wild shaking of my head. Swish.
I held myself hard to the post after the strike, not wanting to
grind my sensitive parts into it yet again.
"That's right, hug your lover," Jemsa giggled, then let
loose with three more blows which stung mightily. I kept my
silence, however.
To my vast relief she then replaced the whip on the hook.
To my vast surprise she then ran her fingers over my breasts
until she found the distended nipples.
"Oh, my. You did like it."
I blushed furiously.
"I have to get back home before hubby wakes up. Have a
nice day, Rayleen."
She trailed her hand down my back, over my now hot rear,
and was gone.

So here I was, holding on to the smooth whipping-post with
daylight coming on. The whipping post was some eight or nine
inches in diameter and very smooth. There would be no
splinters from it. It was in the middle of the town square
and was used to correct deviant behavior.
The whip was a soft leather one, with three tails. It
was not the punishment whip which was used in cases where
the crime was severe. It was the correctional whip. And
it hung on the post where any citizen could easily take it
down and use it. Many parents used it on occasion, but never,
during my life in the town, had anyone been stripped naked and
whipped. I was the first. I felt the first touch of
exhilaration.
The night smells of the wet grass were beginning to
fade and soon there would be people on the streets, in the
square. And there they would see me. Naked, hugging the
post like a lover between my legs, one breast to either side,
not able to do a thing about it.
I was not fearful, for recognition of what had
transpired would come immediately. There had been no trial,
so obviously it was a joke of some kind. The people were
tolerant of jokes and they would not rush to release me.
However, they would be watchful and not allow any to take
undue advantage of my position. Oh, they would allow a
whipping, to be sure; but, should any become too forceful,
that one would be up on the whipping post himself after a
short trial.
I would not be recognized, I felt sure, for a couple of
reasons. Several young women who were of my general build
lived in town, but it was a holiday and thus not all of them
would be accounted for. Those who were away would be closely
questioned later, I had no doubt, and I had to giggle a little,
as much as the bit let me giggle. Second, as I mentioned, I
was no longer a resident here and none would think that after
three years I would come back for this--no one outside Jemsa
knew about my fantasy.
The question was, or rather the questions were: How
long before I was released--if Jemsa just left me here--
and would anyone be bold enough to take up the whip and
use it?
I both hoped so, for otherwise a part of my fantasy
would remain unfulfilled; and hoped not, for Jemsa had used
it and it had stung!
Jemsa. The rat. How could she have done this to me?
She had whipped me! My own friend . . . . But it had been
exciting--as she had discovered, much to my chagrin--so I
wasn't too mad at her. No matter what happened now, I was
living my fantasy and had been whipped naked at the whipping
post. Just thinking about it excited me and I began rubbing
myself, oh so discreetly, against the post. It felt so good.
All those little flowing currents within, washing me with their
energy, turning into a mighty river . . .
"What's this?" A voice broke into my reverie. Then
there was laughter. I had been seen.
I looked around and saw several of the townspeople
gawking at the nude woman at their whipping post. Most were
smiling generously, amused at the antics of their young ones.
One or two merely looked then looked away, unaffected. A
couple, however, looked very interested indeed. How long
before that interest would draw them near? How long before
someone got up the nerve to pick up the whip?
The day drew on and no-one approached closely, yet I
could tell that I was the center-piece of the occasion. It
felt good to be the center of attention.
I froze! A finger had touched my back. I tried to look
around, but the hood prevented me from being able to see who
it was. The person drew nearer, I could feel his breath on
my shoulder. His finger touched the small mole I had on my
lower back. The mole! I had forgotten! Many of the young
women here could recognize me by that--if they remembered.
They would, however, never tell. But they would be secretly
amused, knowing that Rayleen had done it again. Unfortunately
one young man also knew of it.
"It's so nice to see you again, Rayleen," the remembered
voice whispered silkily in my ear. Oh gods, it was him! His
hand swam in front of my vision and plucked the whip from the
pole. Oh gods! Anyone but him--and he knew! As he brought the
whip down it caressed my right breast. "Remember you wouldn't
let me see them, then, Rayleen? I see them now," he chuckled.
"They're beautiful. And such nice nipples. You should have let
me see them then, Rayleen," he took such pleasure in using my
name and I could do nothing, except shake my head. "If you
had, then this wouldn't be happening to you now. However, I'm
reasonable. If you tell me to go away, I will," he chuckled.
I tried to mumble out the words, but they were unintelligible.
"I didn't hear you say anything, so I guess you want this,"
Thanner told me.
"Ugh!" The first blow smarted and again my body jumped,
grinding my privates into the pole. I tried to fight my way
free, but the restraints were too well secured--Jemsa had seen
to that. Thanner laughed an excited laugh, overjoyed at seeing
me struggle.
Smack! I cried out into the gag, humiliated that he had
recognized me; that it was he who was wielding the whip; that it
was exciting me nonetheless. Five more blows came in rapid
succession, causing me to grunt and yelp and hug the post, my
lover.
Thanner paused and then I saw it and my heart leapt up
into my throat. It was Bulnar, Jemsa's husband, driving the
buggy, with Jemsa in it, out of town. She turned as they passed
and winked at me, mouthing the word: enjoy. Jemsa was gone, and
with her my protection. They could take off the hood and no one
would stop them--not that it mattered, for Thanner would spread
word of who I was. I burned in both sets of cheeks, upper and
lower--with both embarrassment and with pain. And I burned with
the fire within. It was raging now. I was hot.
I felt the whip touch my nipple and opened my eyes. Thanner
stood in front of me grinning.
"Hey look," he called out. "The little fox likes it!"
That was all it took. Soon there was a line-up for the whip.
I was in for it now, and I loved the thought. My juices started
to really flow. Thanner gave me three more strokes, and on the
third I gave a muffled cry as my body spasmed. Why did it have
to be him who made me come? I was sure my whole body was blushing,
but no one made any comment. Perhaps they hadn't noticed.
"Very nice, little fox," Thanner whispered in my ear as
he passed on the whip. Someone had noticed, and it had been him.
He had whipped me and I had ograsmed. The brute! Actually, his
strokes hadn't been as hard as Jemsa's had and I wondered about
that.

My rear burned. It wasn't the force of the whipping, for
no one had put any real power behind their blows, but the sheer
number of blows. I thanked Jemsa for the gag. Without it I would
have howled out more two orgasms in front of everyone. That would
have been the worst. Still, I'm sure at least a couple had
recognized what had happened. The only bad time I had was from
Vella, who had never liked me.
The line-up was in front of me, so I saw everyone who accepted
the whip. When it was her turn she looked long at me and gave me
a smile which made me shiver. From her eyes it was plain that
she had recognized me. Even more plain was the fact that she was
going to enjoy this. I waited, unable to do anything else, as
she walked behind me and stroked my now flaming rear with the
whip. I waited until the waiting became unbearable. Then she
struck--hard. Her stroke caused me to leap in pain, a cry torn
from my throat. The second followed shortly with the same result.
Then someone had asked her if she wanted to be next and she handed
the whip to the next in line, but not before catching my eye again
and giving me a triumphant, vindictive smile. She then stood by to
watch the rest of my punishment, smiling gleefully every time my
body jerked; and again my cheeks burned.
There were tears coming from my eyes. I'd had enough--more
than enough. But I couldn't say anything. All I could do was
stand there and take it; hug the post, my lover; jerk with the
blows, and hope that it would end soon. But the line did not
decrease in length, for many who had had one turn at my bottom
had returned for a second try. And it was my bottom they wanted,
for not one stroke had landed on my back. It wasn't every day
that they had a chance at a woman's bottom and they took their
opportunity seriously. I wondered when I'd be able to sit again.

"What's the matter with you people!" It was Jemsa, like an
avenging angel, come to rescue me. "Can't you see that the poor
thing has had enough? What kind of people are you?" Everyone
backed off. No one wanted to tackle an enraged Jemsa. She was
small but feisty. The fact that Bulnar was the largest man in
the town might have had something to do with it also.
That worthy was pulling up in his buggy and placing himself
between his wife and the crowd. The horse wasn't sweaty or
lathered at all and I knew that Bulnar was in on it and that
neither of them had actually left town. I felt my ankles being
freed, and with a sob of relief I regained my feet. My bit was
removed and then Jemsa was unfastening my wrists. Leaning against
the post, covered from sight by my arms, I gave my lover a quick
kiss. Then I was free.
"The entertainment is over. My wife is going to drive
this poor unfortunate out of town. If anyone tries to follow
they'll answer to me," Bulnar thundered out, leaving no doubt
in anyone's mind about how serious he was. It was nice of him,
but of little use. Though even Vella would never divulge my
name, Thanner knew and soon everyone else would. Word would
spread and I'd probably have to leave my town, too.
That was too bad, I thought, as the covering came down
over me and was belted on by Jemsa, but was worth it for the
excitement I'd just experienced. There is always a price to
pay for something good, I rationalized. Still, I grinned to
myself--even if I had known what was coming, I'd have gone
through with it. I had done what no one else had done--dared do.
I moved toward the buggy to lie down on its rear seat--no
way I could sit--when Thanner moved to intercept me. Bulnar
started towards us but I waved him off. It didn't matter. When
he was very close, so close that no one else could hear, he spoke.
"I am a man now, not the boy I was three years ago when
you knew me. Your secret is safe."
I said nothing but felt a great relief wash through me.
I nodded at him, in thanks. I was very grateful, now, for the
forethought Jemsa had used in providing the gag. Without it I
probably would have spoken, revealing who I was.
"When the excitement has died down, perhaps I'll come and
visit, in hopes you'll show me again that which I so wanted to
see." His eyes tracked down to where my nips pushed against
the covering. He turned and stood beside Bulnar, blocking the
way.
I climbed up onto the buggy and, to an astonishing roar of
applause as I lay down, Jemsa, sweet Jemsa who had never truly
abandoned me, who had made such a success of my fantasy, drove
me away.
I thought of Thanner's last words. Well, he had seen what
he had wanted to see once, and if he did show up I would allow
him to see them again--willingly. Yes, he would see them again,
and anything else he wanted.


End of Story