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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.