Here is Chapter One of a six-part femdom story written by a submissive of mine. It makes for very interesting reading – enjoy!
The two men had been arrested under the laws that had been recently approved by the new all female parliament and legislature after the referendum. They now found themselves about to be processed at the notorious Prochody jail. Significantly both men had been charged under the recently passed controversial sexual harassment legislation.
Monika Novotny slid open the side door of the black Mercedes police van. Inside, huddled together inside the steel cage the pair of them were still in their semi drunken state. They had been arrested in the U Kalicha bar in the city centre. Veronika Tomasek, the tall brunette, Monika’s partner on the van, certainly didn’t take any nonsense.
At the first sign of any resistance from one of the men her stun gun was drawn from the holster on the heavy leather belt that she wore around her waist. Monika saw the look of sheer panic on his face as Veronika raised the gun to chest level and squeezed the trigger. The two steel wires snaked towards him before hitting the vulnerable flesh of his stomach and delivering the high voltage shock. It had an instant effect, putting him down on the floor of the bar.
He lay there for several seconds, his neutralised muscles twitching helplessly, a dribble of foam flecking his lips as silence descended on the bar as the fascinated band of revellers looked on. His petrified friend had then meekly surrendered himself to the two women, allowing Monika to lock into place the combined steel collar and cuffs set that held his wrists helplessly shackled to his neck.
Once the prone man had been locked into similar restraints they had been driven directly to Prochody, the grey and forbidding two hundred year old castle that served as the main jail on the outskirts of the city. Since the shock referendum result the long winded process of booking prisoners in and sending them for trial had been streamlined. All that was required now was for officers Novotny and Tomasek to put their signatures on the statement confirming that the men had committed offences under the new legislation. In this manner both Petr Horinek and Anton Janacek had their fourteen day fixed penalty sentences ratified. There was no longer an appeal system and relatives were not even informed of their arrests.
In addition to these powers the arresting officers were allowed, and maybe even encouraged, to provide what was euphemistically referred to as “Re-education”. This granted them a considerable amount of leeway. Lucky prisoners were simply forgotten and whiled away their fortnight in one of the bare, uncomfortable cells. A simple fold down board provided their bed, hinged out from the bare wall on a chain, a coarse grey blanket their only form of comfort. Food was an unappetising mess of grey porridge doled out twice a day by the prison kitchen into stainless steel trays.
Janicek was not however to fall into this “lucky” category. Veronika Tomasek having suffered abuse both from previous partners as well as in her short marriage was not well disposed towards the more wayward male members of society. She had entered somewhat enthusiastically into the spirit of post referendum Ausitania, the tiny, independent landlocked state that was not quite Europeano, not quite Balkan, occupying a few hundred square kilometres of mainly forested, gently rolling countryside that existed largely upon tourism and the recently expanded wine industry that utilised the southern uplands, possessing as they did a climate perfect for the purpose.
The state run wine industry had become an overnight success. This had been largely down to the virtual elimination of labour costs as longer term prisoners were being used in the vineyards. Seven days a week, ten hours a day, working parties toiled in back breaking tasks in the fields under the supervision of female guards who had been comprehensively trained and now ruled with a rod of iron. Any prisoner who stepped out of line quickly found himself dealt with extremely harshly by the robust young women overseers. Each vineyard contained a whipping frame, always prominently situated, partly for deterrent effect. The heavy leather straps riveted to the sturdy timber beams of the “A” shaped frames hung ready and waiting to bind the limbs of any miscreant, holding them in their grip. The supervisor, easily recognised by her distinctive uniform of skin tight black leather and laced knee boots, then arrived to administer a sound thrashing with either the sjambok whip or rattan cane, according to her personal taste. There were no rules, it was all a matter of luck whether you got the minimum punishment or fell into the hands of a sadist.
It was the produce of this area that caused most of the trouble at the bar U Kalicha. The crisp white wine produced by these vineyards sold in large quantities in the traditional crude heavy stone carafes, just a few Ausitanian Shillings for a full litre, one of which was enough to put an average man under the table, or possibly like the two latest prisoners, on it, where they had exposed themselves to a party of female tourists.
The two officers were filling in their forms on the two arrested men. “Horinek is merely a fool” observed Monika. Her partner nodded in agreement.
“Yes I agree. Did you hear that foul mouthed sexist rant from Janacek when we took him out of the cage? I have a good mind to up the charge from drunkenness to include disrespecting an officer.”
Monika smiled as she ticked the relevant box on the form, increasing the sentence was now such a simple matter, a mere stroke of the pen. “Ninety days in the vineyard it is then for Mister J. Do you want to tell him?”
A wistful look crossed Veronika’s face. “I will let him sleep it off and then tell him in the morning, it will be something to look forward to.”
Anton Janacek was in no better mood once sober. “Put your wrists behind you and through the hatch in the cell door”. When he failed to respond to Veronika’s curt order she merely turned away. “Well it’s no concern of mine, you can stay there until tomorrow without food or water, I will instruct the guard accordingly”.
When she came back on shift the following morning he was more compliant. Veronika slipped on the steel transport manacles and locked them to the waist chain leaving Janacek totally bemused as well as disabled by his restraints.
“So this is what it has come to in Ausitania” he spat out the words with venom. “Good men locked up by bitches”. His better mood was evidently short lived.
Veronika’s leather gloved hand caught him hard across the face with a stinging slap as simultaneously her booted knee neatly found it’s mark between his legs. His face contorted as she felt the soft flesh of his testicles crushed and bruised by the move that had caught him totally by surprise. He sagged to his knees as her fist connected with his face, the piggy features distorted as the full horror of his situation struck home, he was being beaten up, by a woman.
Even the stupid Janacek knew when he was beaten. Veronika Tomasek now stood with her black leather police issue boot on his neck. He looked up the long laced shaft at her stern face regarding him. Somehow it seemed even worse that she wasn’t some ugly dyke, but the kind of woman he might easily have found himself hitting on in different circumstances. Her ebony eyes looked down on him with utter contempt.
State Vineyard No 6 was in an idyllic situation. The gently rolling hills fell away towards the border with Slovenia in the south, in the opposite direction the border between Austria and Hungary. It was classic wine growing country and indeed featured on many of the publicity brochures issued by the Ausitanian Tourist Board.
The referendum had attracted a lot of publicity both at home and abroad. Forty two thousand electors had been eligible to vote and when the votes were counted the draconian legislation had been approved by a margin of just over one per cent. And so it was that Anton Janacek found himself driven the twenty kilometres from Prochody jail to State Vineyard 6. He was deposited, chained and shackled, at the feet of Arianne Voric.
Sometimes there is a disparity between the outward perception of a person and the true nature of their personality. Arianne Voric, a slim, athletic redhead in her forties, was quietly spoken and possessed a great degree of charm. As well as being in charge of this vineyard she was responsible for maintaining order in all of the fourteen vineyards within Ausitania. Her zero tolerance policy of discipline was credited with achieving the smooth running of the organisation. Each week she would travel to any vineyard where a punishment had been handed down and often would personally carry out the sentence. It was the part of the job she enjoyed most. By the time she arrived the prisoner due to be punished had usually been broken down by having been regaled by tales of the beatings handed out by Arianne. Her reputation was such that they were usually aware that once she got into her stride the man being punished was exceptionally lucky to escape with only the strokes to which he had been sentenced.
She watched from her office window as the black police van arrived from Prochody. She knew both officers from their previous dealings. “Bring coffee for three”, she snapped to her orderly. The man returned with a tray and set it down on her desk as the two police officers sat opposite Arianne.
“So you think that he may be a case that requires some attention then?” Veronika looked up from her coffee at Arianne’s question.
“In my opinion he is a man of the very worst kind. He has clearly totally failed to accept the values of the new Ausitania.He has a bad attitude towards women and requires a harsh re education program”.
Arianne smiled. She stood up and walked over to where her antique sjambok hung from a hook on the office wall. “Meet his new teacher”. She smiled as she flexed the antique rhino hide whip between outstretched hands. In her mind’s eye she saw the pale skin of the pristine, unblemished male back as her victim, spread out between the splayed legs of the punishment frame, awaited his fate. She handed the whip to Veronika who studied the ferocious weapon before handing it back.
“I can imagine the effect that would have”.
“I’m not entirely sure that you can”. She glanced at her watch. “Look, I have a punishment scheduled for three. It’s a twenty stroke beating. What I suggest is that you stay for lunch then we will give your prisoner a front row seat to let him see what he is in for”.
The small courtyard behind the supervisor’s office fell into shade in the early afternoon. When the three women arrived the man to receive punishment was already being strapped to the frame in readiness for the whipping. Monika had buckled a leather collar around Janacek’s bull neck and she now drew him along behind her. Veronika looked at him with disdain. “On your knees here!” She positioned him just a couple of metres in front of the frame where he would inevitably make eye contact with the victim as the sentence was carried out.
The two female guards had now bound the victim’s wrists tightly to the metal ring at the apex of the frame. He was totally naked, his splayed legs strapped at the ankles and thighs. One of the guards buckled the heavy leather belt around his waist that would both prevent kidney damage and stop any form of movement once the whipping got under way. A carafe of wine had been brought out and the guards and both police officers had glasses in their hands, this was developing into something of a party.
Arianne Voric drank only water. Her experience had told her that the unique thrill of a full blooded whipping was something best enjoyed stone cold sober. Once the guards signalled that he was ready Arianne approached him from behind. She pulled on a pair of black leather gloves and proceeded to reach between his legs, squeezing his testicles until he squealed. His cock was completely flaccid. She ran a leather finger along the ridge of his spine, his body trembled in fear and she felt the delicious thrill surge through her as she savoured the power that she possessed over him. Whatever punishment she decided to hand out he would have to take, no amount of protest or pleading would have the slightest effect, he was hers now to do with exactly as she pleased.
She weighed the heavy rhino hide sjambok in her gloved hands as she took up her position standing at right angles to the timber frame, adjusting the position of her feet to give her the stability she needed to swing the whip correctly to achieve maximum force. The sjambok had a slight element of flex to it’s shaft. It was a little more than a metre in length and almost as thick as a man’s thumb. Arianne placed the tip on his right buttock just above the crease where it joined his thigh. An expectant silence fell as she tapped the whip a couple of times to get her range before drawing it back level with her shoulder.
The silence was broken by the sound of the whip cutting the air, culminating in a deep thwaaaack sound as it made contact with the buttocks of the restrained man. He didn’t react for a brief fraction of a second, then the pain of the first stroke registered in his brain. A deep, animalistic scream filled the air and the timber frame shook as he fought desperately against his bonds, frantically trying to escape their grip. The two policewomen, unfamiliar with the procedure watched in awe as a horizontal line appeared across his buttocks marking the site of the sjambok impact. It darkened quickly from a deep red to purple as the blood beneath found it’s way towards the surface of the skin. He had barely ceased struggling before Arianne delivered the next stroke, her lithe body displaying a beautiful, almost artistic symmetry. The light danced in myriad mobile pools on the black skin tight leather of her uniform and the gleaming shafts of her laced knee boots.
She was into a rhythm now, the strokes falling at regular intervals on the bound victim. By the seventh stroke the skin of his buttocks began to give way under the vicious, unrelenting assault of the sjambok, tiny crimson rivulets flowing from the line of the repeated impact. His screams filled the courtyard and Arianne spoke to one of the guards, pausing while she fitted a leather harness around the protesting man’s head. She adjusted the straps that drew the phallus shaped hard rubber gag into his mouth, his protests continued but now reduced to an incomprehensible moan she once again took up the sjambok.
The remaining thirteen strokes were delivered in the same manner. There was no let up, every fifteen seconds or so the heavy whip descended in an arc reminiscent of a golfer’s swing before making contact with the bound man’s buttocks. By the time Arianne had finished he hung limply in the straps, he appeared to have lost consciousness. Where the curve of his cheeks had been neat and firm they now looked like something displayed on a butcher’s slab, the flesh ploughed by the repeated impacts of the sjambok. Arianne inspected her whip before calling over her orderly and handing it to him. “He knows how to clean it properly, how to remove all the blood, it’s important to maintain standards of hygiene, we don’t want our prisoners to suffer do we?”
All five women laughed at the joke. Arianne turned her attention to Janacek. He was in a state of shock from watching the whipping of the prisoner. “So you would like this man to receive a degree of re education would you?”
The two police officers confirmed that this was their intention. “I do so enjoy the challenge of one who won’t easily accept the new order”. Arianne grabbed Janacek by the hair and pulled his head back, looking down into his eyes. She spat into his face and pushed him onto his side where he lay, stranded like an upturned beetle, his manacled hands chain around his waist preventing his efforts to get himself upright.
As they walked back to the office Arianne expanded on her last remark. “If only these resistors had the intelligence to realise just how much better they make our lives by their stubborn actions. It is very easy to justify beating them on a daily basis and so much more rewarding when you do crack them. If you come back in a month I will have your man on his knees kissing my boots every time I walk in, I can guarantee that”.
Copyright DL Media, October 2018
Artwork http://ladycaroleart.com