Chapter 1. Life’s a Beach
(Even Ponygirls Sometimes Get the Blues, Aurelius c. 2002)
It was a fine evening for a walk along the beach.
On Rabbit Island every evening was a fine evening for a walk along
the beach! The scenery, the tropical climate and the idyllic location
made it so.
Kate and Jessica ambled bare-foot across the soft wet sand at the
water’s edge, both captivated by the radiance of the pumpkin red
sun sinking rapidly on the maritime horizon. They marvelled how much
quicker the sun set in this equatorial region compare to their former
homes in more northerly latitudes.
They walked side by side, the best of friends, the American and
the English girl. The New Yorker, Jessica with her brown hair in a ponytail,
tall and shapely alongside Kate, a sun-bleached blonde, smaller, slimmer
and, some might say, cuter than her American friend.
The beach cabin, their current home, had disappeared from sight
behind them, and likewise their fellow occupants. There wasn’t another
soul in sight, or within earshot, which was exactly as Jessica planned.
“So....tonight’s the night?”
“Yep! Tonight’s the night, Katie. We've been on this
island for long enough. It’s your choice whether you come with me.
Either way, I’m going.” Jessica stared at her friend with steely
determination in her eyes.
Kate had become adjusted to life on the island, but Jessica never
could. She wanted to return to New York, to her family and friends. A
place where she was useful to others; where she was needed and relied
upon.
“What do we do next?” Kate asked, becoming edgy at the
thought of leaving.
“When you arrive back to the cabin try to act normally. Let’s
just spend a normal evening with them.Try not to seem anxious. At bedtime,
go to bed and try to sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time to
go.”
They sat down on the sand, and leaned back against two sides of
a thick square wooden post. It was a whipping post. One where each of
them had been chained up and punished many times. Despite its associations,
it remained a pleasant spot where they could sit and talk and think,
and sometimes make love.
“These handcuffs. How can we get rid of them?” Kate asked,
tugging irritably on the links that secured her hands behind her.
Jessica gave her a self-satisfied smile. “Don’t worry.
I’ve got a plan, but it’s best you don’t know the details
in case you decide not to come along.”
Kate agreed that made sense. What if she was forced to reveal Jessica’s
plan to somebody? That could spell big trouble for both of them.
“God, I’m nervous. Maybe I’ll take one last visit
to the prods. That might relax me a bit.”
“Good idea Katie. Mind if I come and watch?”
She gave Jessica a broad smile. “Of course not! What about
you?”
Jessica shook her head sadly. “No. I’m still sore from
what those bastards did to me three days ago.”
The two naked women rose to their feet gracefully, considering
that each had her hands cuffed behind her. Additionally a thick chain
ran up their spines, linking the steel handcuffs to a sturdy leather
collar. It’s purpose was to prevent the slipping the handcuffs under
her buttocks to the front. Apart from the cuffs, the collar and the connecting
chain, they were naked. They did, however, have an item of jewelry each:
Large pearl stud earrings, quite pretty in their way, but these pearls
were fake. They were tracking devices, permanently fixed.
That was how they lived - the Island’s so-called ‘bunnies’ free
to roam within the confines of their beach until their owners inhabiting
the Island’s palatial lodge required their bodies. Then they would
be rounded up and transported to the Lodge to endure days and nights
of sexual abuse, extreme bondage and punishments. Their time on the beach
was tolerable by comparison, despite their ever-present handcuffs.
The prods were a short walk away. These were one type of
many devices of training, punishment and correction that were positioned
along the beach.
They arrived at Kate’s favourite prod - a piece of equipment
she had been punished on many times. It was a metal structure like a
door frame in size and shape. The bunny was required to kneel on her
shins at the base, where shackles were waiting to fix her ankles firmly
in position. She then had to lower her hips so the thick dildo-like prod
rising up between her ankles disappeared up into her pussy. Once her
handler was satisfied with the seating of the prod within her vagina,
he had a method of keeping it that way: A chain fixed at the front base
of the prod was wrapped around the bunny’s waist and padlocked.
The bunny could forget about lifting herself clear of the prod without
first being free of the chain about her waist. Unfortunately her movement
towards a seated position was limited by the size of her vagina, which
was vastly exceeded in length by the prod. Unless her uterus was made
of steel the bunny was strongly advised against attempting to sit back
on her heels!
The handler could either leave the bunny’s wrists in handcuffs
behind her back, or more usually refix them so her hands were chained
the top of the frame above her head. Thus positioned, the bunny’s
bare back and buttocks made an attractive target for the whip. The bunny
would have no alternative but to ride up and down on the prod in response
to the whip. If she was lucky the tension of the chain holding up her
arms would be tight enough to hold her upright thus preventing her sitting
back. However, experienced handlers usually ensured that there was enough
slack to leave the bunny’s sitting position to her own judgement.
Although it was an implement of frequent punishments it did not
alter the fact that this equipment provided an excellent means of masturbation.
Kate wiped the prod with a clean scrap of bed sheet that she had earlier
moistened with a lubricant. It was thicker and longer than a normal man’s
penis, sculpted with ridges too, to generate an effective friction. She
knelt back gently and could feel the head of the prod against her labia.
Closing her eyes and thinking her own thoughts about the man she would
like to be fucking, she gyrated her hips until it felt like the prod
was trying to enter her. Very gently she lowered herself onto the prod
until it filled her, her face registered a broad contented grin.
Jessica stood quietly in the shadows a few yards away, preoccupied
yet also slightly aroused by Kate’s wanton display. If her hands
weren't cuffed behind her Jessica knew where they would be. The handcuffs
were an aid to self control and yet a cause of constant frustration!
Kate’s gentle movements were like a dance, her gentle moaning
like a song. Her delicate orgasm a thing of beauty. Jessica might once
have found such an act distasteful but she knew that Kate couldn’t
help herself. It was the drugs in their food, they seemed to feed their
sexual appetites. Kate’s behaviour was shared to some degree by
all eight bunnies in their camp.
Jessica recalled the more violent orgasms Kate had when she was
properly secured to the prod. One of the handlers, Ray, knew exactly
what to do with the girl. He would strike her with the bullwhip which
was usually attached Indiana Jones-style to his belt. He seemed to play
her body like a musical instrument and she responded as if in the hands
of a virtuoso. Ray and Kate had won a recent competition for ‘best
whip-induced orgasm’. Ray received the prize, a bottle of Glenlivet
single malt whiskey plus the admiration of his peers. Kate was left hanging
by her wrists within the frame, her only reward was her orgasm.
AN EARLY START
Much later in the evening, when Kate and Jessica returned to the
cabin, everything was quiet; and dark except for the low wattage night-light
that cast a faint glow over the entrance.
Inside, laying on the padded sleeping platforms were the six other
bunnies who shared the cabin. Each was cocooned in a white sheet that she
wrapped around herself, like self-mummification.
Jessica picked up her white sheet between her teeth. With several
quick spins she managed to wrap herself snugly within the sheet. She leant
forward and toppled softly onto the vinyl covered padding that served as
a mattress. If she could bind herself tight enough with the sheet she could
pretend it was the sheet that held her, rather than the intractable steel
cuffs around her wrists. Soon the self-mummified Kate flopped onto the
padding besides Jessica. Kate was so uptight she wondered if she could
sleep a wink that night, but somehow she managed it. The prod had served
its purpose.
Some hours later, Jessica rose silently from the bed as if by an
internal alarm clock. She sat outside waiting until for the moon to reach
a particular point on the horizon. For many weeks previously she had
studied the night sky and began to understand the moon’s movements.
It was around two hours before dawn she deduced. Kate awoke to a gentle
kiss on her lips, more of a touch than a kiss. Just like Jessica’s
own father did to her when she had to rise early.
“It’s me, Katie,” Jessica whispered. “Are you
coming?”
Kate’s smile seemed to light up the gloom and gave Jessica
the answer she hoped for. She stood up and the sheet that wrapped her
slipped to the floor around her feet.
They left the cabin, neither saying a word as they walked into
the distance. There was nothing to pack, no supplies, no change of clothing.
They hadn’t any possessions because they were the possessions,
the slaves of others. If all went according to Jessica’s plan this
would be the last day of their slavery.
Their bare feet were hardened to the sandy beach but the gravel
tracks on which they had to traverse the island hurt their feet, though
they made navigation easy. All the points of interest on the island were
linked by the network of tracks. Their first point of interest tonight
was the mud pool; one of many ‘sporting’ facilities on the
island.
“In you get, Katie, and make sure you cover your face with
mud.”
Kate stepped cautiously in, and Jessica followed her into the cool
mud. Both rolled over until completely caked in the soft wet mud that
would provide their camouflage.
The two handcuffed mud creatures resumed the journey along the
trail, the breeze gradually drying the mud thick against their skin,
caked thick against their faces and hair.
Kate chuckled as she recalled something. “Do you remember
when they arranged that mud fight?”
“Oh yes. I remember all too well!”
“...but it wasn’t fair that I had to fight you. You have
three inches and ten pounds over me.”
“Yes, but you were squirming like a little eel, Katie. It
was damn hard work to get those cuffs around your wrists... and all I
got for winning the competition was to compete against a man. In the
end I had to let him handcuff me before I choked on the mud.”
“....and we all looked so disgusting that none of the visitors
wanted to fuck us. They just hogtied us all with the leather cords and
continued with their barbecue!” Both laughed at the recollection
as they walked. Such was the stuff of bunnies’ memories when they
had been on the island for too long.
Their next stop was the Orchard: A complex of farm buildings that
made the island self-sufficient in many fruits and vegetables, not to
mention pigs, poultry, eggs and honey.
It was still dark, and eerily quiet throughout the complex of buildings.
Close by, Jessica knew that a dozen people slept: The farm managers and
the farm-bunnies, and even a couple of lazy dogs, that had long forgotten
that they were supposed to be watch dogs.
Kate and Jessica stepped quietly around the corner of the yard
to where the workshop door was located.
There was a creaking sound, and both jumped in fright. Someone
was standing alongside the workshop wall. The moonlight briefly illuminated
the whites of somebody’s eyes, though the person was motionless.
Jessica realised the person was standing at the Orchard’s
punishment post. It wasn’t a sentry, just a poor farm-bunny chained
hand and foot to the post. Gagged as well, Jessica realised as she approached
to the sound of muffled cries. The chained-up woman’s eyes widened
in fright as Jessica moved nearer. The farm-bunny feared she had been
chained out as a sacrifice to the swamp monsters.
“Hi Odette. It’s me - Jessica! I didn’t mean to
scare you.”
The ball-gagged farm-bunny Odette mumbled something incomprehensible
in reply, sighing in obvious relief.
“Did you fix the door?” Jessica whispered to her. A little
bit of sympathy for the chained up farm-bunny might have been due but
Jessica had bigger concerns. Odette nodded. She had tampered with the
workshop door so it could be sprung open without a key. Her loitering
in the workshop to arrange it was what had caused her to be in that predicament!
Jessica knelt down and leaned back against the door. Her fingertips
found the bottom edge and lifted it. She felt the door free itself from
the latch. While Kate kept a look-out, Jessica groped around in the darkness
of the workshop. She located a hacksaw, a hammer and a screwdriver; the
very things she came for. She emerged from the workshop, quietly closing
the door, then planted a grateful kiss on Odette's cheek. (When the farm
managers saw Odette in the morning they would be mystified by the smear
of mud on her face!)
The two bunnies walked the final couple of miles to the small harbour
on the eastern side of the island. Their muddy camouflage a precaution
against any early risers watching the trails.
“There it is! The means of our salvation.” Jessica announced
proudly as they looked down at the fifty-foot fishing boat. The sky was
already showing signs of dawn. “Okay Katie, stretch your wrists
out on that rock.”
Jessica held the hacksaw behind her back as best she could with
her hands cuffed, and sawed gently on a link. It proved more difficult
than she imagined, after a couple of exhausting minutes she had made
barely a groove. After a quick breather she resumed, sawing until the
top of the sun broke the horizon.
“Dammit!” Jessica tossed away the hacksaw in frustration. “Sorry
Katie, it looks like we’ll have to wear these cuffs for a while
longer. Someone will soon remove them when we get to the mainland. Let’s
get on the boat.”
The two fugitives made their way down the track leading to the
boat. It was easy to board the fishing boat; the gang-plank had been
left in position. Jessica clearly knew where she was going. “Have
you got the screwdriver?”
Kate handed the large tool to her. “What’s down there?”
“It’s the rope locker, pretty small, but we’ll fit
in.” Jessica started to prise the door open near to the lock. To
Kate’s amazement it popped open.
“How....what.....how did you do that?” Kate asked, astonished
at her friend’s ingenuity.
“Easy! Sarah told me, she saw the captain do it once when
he forgot the key; and she also told me about the space in the rope locker
too. Now we just crawl in, make ourselves comfortable, keep quiet and
we’re home and dry. Take your last look at Rabbit Island Katie!
We’re going home. Free from these handcuffs, free from being a slave
to perverted men’s desires. No more whippings! No more chains!” Jessica
effused triumphantly.
Kate turned to look at the island as it became bathed in early
morning sunlight, her eyes moist with tears. She didn’t know what
she wanted anymore. It was a scary thought to leave the island after
more than a year. She was a prisoner, a sex-slave; but it hadn’t
been all bad. It would take some getting used to normal life full of
responsibilities again. She knew she would miss Ray terribly - the handler
who seemed to know more about what her body needed than even she did.
They crawled inside the dirty and damp locker. Digging themselves
toward the back so that the thick ropes all but covered them. Jessica
leaned over one last time and pulled the door closed, leaving them snuggled
together in complete darkness, hoping and praying that the captain would
make his normal trip to the mainland.
***
The fugitive bunnies were sound asleep when they heard footsteps
on the boat. Whoever it was seemed to wander around for an age, looking
for something perhaps? Had he seen something suspicious? Maybe someone
had leaked Jessica’s well-laid plans?
Miguel the fisherman, and captain of this small vessel, fired up
the diesel engine and cast off the mooring ropes. He was where he loved
to be - on the water. The Lodge’s visitors didn’t just enjoy
the subservient charms of the bunnies but also enjoyed sports like shooting,
diving, sea fishing. The latter being Miguel’s prime responsibility.
It was a fine morning for fishing but today he had to make a trip a the
nearby island to collect the weekly supplies. He had no inkling that
his regular routine had long been Jessica’s planned escape route.
After an hour’s calm progress at six knots he docked in the
little port. The boat’s engine fell silent and the sound of Miguel’s
footsteps indicated to the girls that he had disembarked. A safe ten
minutes later Jessica and Kate crawled from the rope locker to make their
final step to freedom.
The bunnies emerged onto the deck, dazed by the bright sunlight.
They were in the midst of a bustling harbour packed full of fishing boats
and other craft. How could two mud-caked naked girls begin to explain
their situation to others? They didn’t even know what country they
were in!
Walking tentatively down the busy jetty, their salvation came in
to view - a police car parked at the side of the dock. “Pollisia” it
said, whatever language that was. A man in a smart uniform looked like
the policeman, and his mirrored shades left them in no doubt.
A curious crowd started to gather at a respectful distance as Jessica
and Kate walked towards the police car. Some in the crowd were sighing
in horror. Others were just shaking their heads in disbelieve and disapproval.
Was it Jessica’s imagination or had the noisy bustle of the harbour
fallen silent? What did it matter what people thought? The important
thing was that now they were finally free.
“Hello. Do you speak English?” Jessica called out as
she approached the policeman. Kate and Jessica’s smiles were in
dramatic contrast to their mud-caked bodies.
“I speak leetle English.” The policeman replied guardedly,
trying to take in the sight before him. He liked a naked woman as much
as the next man but these two were just disgusting.
“We need your help. We’ve been kidnapped and held against
our will on a nearby island.” Jessica rotated her torso slightly
to show off her handcuffs and chain.
“Madam. Me no unnerstan. You go pollisia house me now!”
“Yes, yes, we go with you!” Jessica and Kate responded excitedly.
Perfect! They were going straight to a police station.
They walked with the policeman towards his patrol car. Then he changed
his mind, looking first at his admirably clean squad car and the flaking
dirt that covered their bodies.
“No car you! My friend car you.” He gestured toward an
old Ford pickup truck next to the patrol car. The policeman grabbed Jessica
by the elbow and helped her step up into the back of the truck. Kate
followed.
“Here!” The policeman prodded them into a sitting position,
bare buttocks flat against the steel truck floor. The women sat leaning
back against the cabin while the policeman used a length of rope to thread
through the D rings on their collars, securing it tightly to convenient
cleats. “This good you!” He explained helpfully.
Jessica shrugged her shoulders at Kate - one of the easier gestures
to make when your hands are cuffed. “So... he doesn’t want
to get his car dirty. Who can blame him? He’s tied us like this
for our own safety so we don’t roll around. We’ll soon be at
the police station and have this mess sorted out.”
The truck set off and wound its way through the narrow congested
streets of the town. People stared, not quite believing the sight of
two naked, dirty-faced matted-haired females riding in the back of a
pickup. Savages from the rain forests, they supposed.
“Where the hell are we?” Kate asked Jessica, as the pickup
bumped along endless potholed streets. She was fascinated by the sights
around her. It was a large and busy town, not poor by Asian standards
but not rich either. The people were dark-skinned with round oriental
eyes.
“Malaysia, Indonesia, Philippines, Borneo, we could be anywhere!
The women are wearing head-scarves so maybe it’s a Muslim country,
but it’s not just Muslims who dress like that.” (Jessica had
completed her cultural awareness classes in New York.)
The police car and the pickup reached the police station, driving
straight into a gated compound. The station house within the compound
was a simple two storey concrete building. The policeman untied Jessica
and Kate from the pickup and led them into the building, along a corridor
until they arrived at a closed door. He knocked and promptly entered
with Jessica and Kate in tow.
Sat comfortably behind a large desk was the police chief. Dark-skinned,
with a well-tended mustache, and overweight from good living. A broad
grin was on his face.
“Welcome to my humble police station!” The gregarious
police chief called out to his visitors, his arms spread wide. “You
are from the island, no?”
Jessica stepped forward. “Yes Sir, but we’ve managed
to escape. Can you remove our handcuffs and find some clothes for us?”
“I am sorry madame. I do not have a key for your handcuffs.
I am afraid you must keep the cuffs until this matter is resolved. Abdi,
your arresting officer will take you into the yard and clean you before
the judge arrives.”
Two mouths fell open in shock. “Arresting officer?... Judge?...
What the hell are you talking about? It’s the guys on Rabbit Island
you should be arresting,” Kate protested.
The police chief sat up straight, put his elbows on the table and
interlocked his fingers. The mood had changed. He looked at them gravely. “Madams,
you fail to understand something. You have displayed your naked bodies
in our town. Our people are religious and moral, believing in modest
dignified behaviour. They will not tolerate obscene displays such as
yours. The judge will sentence you this afternoon. As for the island
you have come from - it is an independent country. Even if I believed
that you were kidnapped I have no jurisdiction over them. Now, go with
Abdi and get cleaned up.”
Their arresting officer and a young man, a police cadet, led them
back outside into the compound. “Stay!” Abdi said, while connecting
a hose to a faucet on the wall. He pointed the jet of cold water at the
bunnies, making sure they were thoroughly soaking. The junior went into
action with a scrubbing brush, intent on getting the mud out of every
crevice.
Feeling the harsh bristles between her legs Kate was pleading “no...no...” as
she felt him scrub a layer of skin from her body, but her pleading was
met with a smile. Kate and Jessica’s nipples were soon erect due
to the cold water, and that did not escape the notice of the policeman.
He grasped one of Jessica’s impressively large nipples between finger
and thumb and used the brush in the other hand to ensure her breasts
were scrubbed clean. He decided the nipple made a good handle for keeping
Jessica in position while brushing vigorously over her pussy. Kate received
similar treatment from the diligent young police-cadet.
After unexpectedly having their hair shampooed, the spruced-up
bunnies were left to ‘drip dry’ in the yard. Despite the rough
handling they were happy that the mud was washed from their hair and
bodies. The hot sun and the whitewashed walls soon dried them. Kate had
become increasing morose during her time in the police station, wishing
only that she was back on Rabbit Island with her friends.
Jessica remained optimistic. “Don’t worry Katie, when
the judge gets here it will all be resolved.” She kissed her friend
on the shoulder, a gesture that corresponded to a hug for the perpetually
chained bunnies. The door of the police building opened.
“Come to Judge now!” Abdi shouted at them from the doorway.
The small courtroom was wood-panelled but spartan in layout. The
judge, wearing a wig and gown that betrayed the town’s colonial
roots, sat behind a desk on a low platform.
"Kneel down, and do not speak!” the police chief quietly
instructed them. Jessica and Kate knelt obediently, with well-practiced
submissiveness, in the centre of the courtroom floor, nervous but still
optimistic. “Now look up at the judge!” The police chief said,
satisfied with their position.
The judge entered. They looked up towards a thin and frail old
man with a wrinkled face. He looked back at two beautiful young naked
women, kneeling before him, but their charms were lost on him. He didn’t
care for decadent westerners parading themselves in his town.
“Look down at the floor, and don’t look up until I tell
you.” The police chief whispered.
The grim-faced judge spoke in their incomprehensible native language
to the Police Chief. He responded at length in the same tongue. Abdi,
their arresting officer, was also quizzed by the judge. After several
further exchanges between them the elderly judge banged his gavel on
the table and shuffled from the courtroom.
“Good news ladies! You are not going to jail.” The police
chief said with his familiar broad smile, whilst helping them to their
feet. “You’ll each get ten lashes this afternoon and then you
are free to go. I think the judge took pity on you.”
Jessica shook herself free from the police chief’s grasp. “Wait
a minute....you mean that was our trial? We didn’t have a chance
to speak, we didn’t have any legal representation and we couldn’t
understand a word that was said. That wasn’t a fair trial.”
“Madam, you must be thinking of a different country, where
greedy and corrupt lawyers make fortunes with their clever words; where
murderers and bad men walk free because of their ability to subvert the
legal system. In this country it is different. The police officer explains
to the judge what happened and the judge, in his wisdom, passes the sentence.
It is a much fairer system!”
The convicted women were taken from the courtroom to a room they
hadn’t seen before.
“Down,” Abdi said, making Jessica lay face down on the
floor. Her neck was resting in a semicircular cut-out of a set of portable
wooden stocks. Much to her surprise her handcuffs were unlocked by the
police officer, contradicting their earlier statement about not having
keys for them. But ominously, her collar and chain ensemble remained.
Her wrists were positioned into the semicircular cutouts in the stock
a foot away, either side of her neck. While one policeman held her wrists
in position the other closed the other half of hinged stock onto the
back of her neck and wrists The firm click of a padlock indicated it
would stay in position. Kate received the same treatment.
“I trust you will not find our stocks too uncomfortable. Now
ladies, would you please stand. I still have duties to perform.” The
police chief had a battered old camera in his hand. “As you are
convicted criminals in our country we need to complete our records with
a photograph.”
He pinned a piece of paper to the front of the stocks, below the
chin of each of them; their conviction sheets. “Okay, look directly
at the camera.”
Their scowls could have broken a less robust camera lens. ”Okay,
Perfect!” He put down the camera and reached for his clipboard. “Any
distinguishing marks?” He asked.
The bunnies looked at each other, thinking the same thing. “Like
a tattoo?” Jessica asked.
“Exactly, but I do not see any tattoos. Show me.”
They turned their backs on him spread their legs and bent double
at the waist. “Just at the top of the left thigh on the inside.”
It wasn’t every day that the police chief was invited to inspect
two women in this way. Two shapely rumps presented themselves for inspection,
their prominent puffy labia seeming to give an invitation to him. He
spotted the tattoo an inch away from the labia, a thumbnail-sized, side
view of a rabbit (quite pretty really) and beneath it a number: 84 on
Jessica and 69 on Kate. It was something she always thought was amusing.
“Are you sure these are permanent?” He asked them as
they maintained their bent-over position. He felt duty-bound to verify
that the colourful tattoo couldn’t be rubbed off. His finger rubbed
vigorously on the tattoo inevitably coming into vigorous contact with
Jessica’s labia. He was satisfied with the tattoo’s permanence.
“Don’t you need to check mine too?” Kate asked,
feeling she may have missed out. The camera flashed four times: A full
view of their rear ends and a close-up of the bunny tattoo with, unavoidably,
their labia in the same shot.
“Very nice. Very nice indeed,” the flustered police chief
commented, leaving the bunnies to ponder whether he referred to the tattoos
or their asses. “You can stand up again now.”
The police chief left them alone in the room, he was off to the
dark room, to develop the photo’s of course! Jessica and Kate sat
on the wooden bench, waiting in silence, whilst adjusting to their new
form of bondage.
They were mildly amused by the sight of their hands poking through
the top of the wooden stocks. Jessica and Kate exchanged their repertoire
of few rude hand gestures, lightening their mood considerably. It made
a change not to have their hands pinned behind their backs, but what
Jessica hated was the way the wood protruded two inches ahead of her
chin, preventing her from looking down at her body unless she bent forward.
It felt like her head and hands were somehow detached from her body -
an unsettling feeling. It seemed to say that her body was reserved for
somebody else. She was surprised that Rabbit Island hadn’t thought
of using these stocks.
“Jesus, I sure hope Rabbit Island doesn’t start making
us wear these things!” Kate said, pointlessly struggling against
the sturdy wooden device as if she were a female Houdini.
“But we’re not going back there.” Jessica reminded
her. “The police chief said as soon as we receive our ten lashes
we’ll be set free.”
The door opened. Jessica and Kate stood up instinctively, expecting
to be led out to receive their whipping. Instead, Abdi their arresting
officer, brought two other women into the room. They were dressed in
the same modest clothing and head coverings as the other womenfolk in
the town. The policeman ordered them to strip naked, and it became apparent
that one of them could only be in her mid-teens. No longer a child, yet
not quite a woman either judging by the modest development of her breasts.
She submitted tearfully as the policemen fitted her into the same wrist
and neck stocks as Jessica and Kate wore.
The other native was very different, she was a mature woman, perhaps
30 years of age, an exotic brown-skinned beauty, with a fine cheek-bones
and dark fiery eyes beneath shapely eyebrows. Despite the defiant look
in her eyes she submitted to her locking stocks as if it were a familiar
routine. That was when Jessica noticed the ominous darkened scarring
of skin on her back.
The four women waited in silence, eyeing up each other; the locals
on one bench, Jessica and Kate facing them on the other. Jessica wondered
what crime the innocent-looking schoolgirl could possibly have committed
to get into this predicament. The older woman, Jessica had already concluded,
must be a prostitute.
A bell rung outside the room. The policeman opened the door, led
the four punishees through the bare concrete hallways of the police HQ
until they entered another room. It was a long room with a black curtain
running fully along one side. On the other side, bolted into the wall,
was a frame, the purpose of which soon became apparent. The four naked
women were lined up, whether accidentally or by design, in order of height:
Jessica, the prostitute, Kate and the young girl.
As Jessica was pushed towards the wall her stocks fitted precisely
into slots on either side of her. A couple of retaining pins were inserted,
maintaining her in her standing position. Next, somebody forced her to
spread her legs slightly, her ankles were pushed into semicircular cutouts
in the bottom of the wooden frame and fixed with the corresponding rear
portion of the wooden stock. The disturbing effect of spreading her legs
was that Jessica’s height was reduced, leaving her chin leaning
heavily on the wooden stocks to compensate. All she could do was stare
straight ahead at the grey breeze-block wall a few inches from her nose.
Whether the exploring fingers of a policeman was an official part
the treatment Jessica could only guess. His gentle but intrusive finger
manipulated her cunt, teasing her clitoris with surprising tenderness.
He soon had the desired effect. There was nothing she could do, either
to defend herself or prevent her own arousal. Having achieved their apparent
objective his fingers then forced themselves into Jessica’s mouth
until she’d involuntarily licked her own juices. The man laughed,
mocking her weakness. It wasn’t a voice that Jessica had heard before.
He was the executioner, although it was a quiet day today, only four women
to be whipped.
An inimitable rubbery smell proceeded a lump of rubber being forced
into Jessica’s mouth. It wasn’t strapped in place and would be
easy for her to expel it; which made Jessica think that maybe she should
leave it where it was. She closed her eyes, bit down into the rubber and
listened to the other punishees being secured and subjected to the same
finger treatment. It became quiet when they too accepted the rubber gags.
The curtain behind the four restrained bodies opened. They couldn’t
turn to see it but could feel the gentle breeze of the open air and hear
the low conversation of a small crowd. The whipping ceremony was a public
performance. A voice from the stage addressed the gathered ‘witnesses’ to
explain the crimes and punishments. About two dozen men and women from
the town watched and listened intently as the police chief read out the
details:
1) Decadent American woman parading naked and unkempt, and without official
papers: 10 lashes and deportation
2) Local woman persisting in her belief of atheistic ideas: 10 lashes and
return to prison
3) Decadent English woman parading naked and unkempt, and without official
papers: 10 lashes and deportation
4) Local schoolgirl kissing another female in the street: 3 lashes and
one month house arrest.
Without warning, the first lash from the executioner landed in
the middle of Jessica’s back, pain ripping through her like an electric
shock. For a moment she blacked out before re-orienting herself, grateful
that the rubber in her mouth was protecting her teeth and tongue.
The crack of the whip on the back of the local woman was so palpable
that Jessica thought she’d been struck again! The woman was grunting
and panting, fighting her own battle against the pain.
Kate was next. She heard the whoosh of the whip a moment before
it struck, like a shotgun. The blow was hard, cruel even! Rabbit Island
was never like that. She’d been known to enjoy the taste of a whip,
but this wasn’t a turn-on for her, just pain and misery.
The trembling teenager received the fourth stroke, and expelled
the most pitiable cry. The executioner and the ‘witnesses’,
although they would never admit it, greatly enjoyed that moment when
all the penitents had received their first cut of the whip. A delicious
ensemble of squirming, panting and crying bodies each recovering from
the last stroke while awaiting fearfully for their next one.
Once the teenager had received her strokes she was left in position
to experience the pain of her fellow sufferers until they too had received
all theirs. It taught her that any future punishments would be worse.
Perhaps the executioner felt that Jessica and Kate were bearing up too
well, despite the welts and small cuts. He made sure that the final stroke
was the worst, leaving Jessica, the prostitute, and Kate limp and broken.
The immovable wooden stocks holding their wrists and neck were all that
kept them standing.
The ‘witnesses’ gave no audible appreciation of the executioner’s
performance. After all, it was a punishment, public viewing was permitted
only as a salutary reminder to citizens to obey the law. Exactly why
some of those citizens, men and women equally, felt the need to be reminded
of the law twice every week, can only be guessed at.
The curtain was drawn again and the punished women were released
from the frame. Unsteady on their feet, they were led back to the waiting
room. All except the schoolgirl were heavily welted, with blood trickling
from various cuts. The teenage girl was the first to be released from
her stocks and still sobbing, she dressed herself in her modest clothes.
The ‘prostitute’ dressed too, except that she was handcuffed
before being removed back to her prison cell. Jessica felt quite sorry
for the poor woman.
“Goodbye” she said to Jessica as she was led from the
waiting room. Jessica was shocked - did she speak English or did she
just know a few words? Jessica asked the police chief about the woman
as he was refixing their familiar cuffs on them.
“Lina. The crazy woman?” He shook his head, as if to
indicate what a lost cause she was. “She used to be a teacher until
her husband died. Then she became fixated with atheism. Our society does
not want such mad thoughts corrupting our youth, so she was sent to prison.
She still has two years of her jail sentence. Every week she visits us
for her ten lashes, although personally, I don’t think it has cured
her.”
Miguel the fisherman arrived at the police station, just as Jessica
and Kate were about to embark on a hazardous conversation about religion
and atheism.
“Okay madams, your transport is here to take you back to the
island,” the Police Cchief announced.
“Back to the island?” They replied together, jaws dropping
in utter disbelief.
“Of course! You’ve been extradited back to your country
of origin. Please dress modestly and have the relevant documentation
before you return to see us again.”
Kate and Jessica were glum-faced, but it was about to get worse.
Miguel wasn’t happy to learn he had been responsible for bringing
two stowaways to the port. If they had gotten away, no-one would have
known that his boat had been used, but they’d been caught and that
meant he was in trouble.
Just by chance he’d paid a visit to the steel fabricator hours
earlier and collected the latest order. He brought two brand new cages
into the room. Small, but large enough for an average woman if you know
how to put her in correctly.
The instructions were simple: First, open the lid and make
her kneel in the cage. Attach the built-in manacles to her ankles. Push
her chest down onto her thighs and attach the retaining chain from the
base of the cage to the front of her collar. Finally, close the cage, making
sure to attach her handcuffs to the retaining clip on the lid. Make certain
that the cage is secured with two high-strength steel padlocks.
They returned to the fishing boat by the same pickup truck that brought
them to the police station four hours previously, only this time they were
caged.
The police chief accompanied them back to the boat. He shook hands
with the Miguel the fisherman once all the goods were aboard. “Tell
your bosses that whilst we appreciate the benefits they bring to our
economy we do not want their morals to infect the citizens of our country.”
He helped cast off the mooring ropes and watched the boat navigate
slowly out of the harbour, waving to Jessica and Kate. They were glaring
angrily out of their cages back at him.
***
Jessica and Kate’s cages were placed next to each other on
the deck of the fishing boat, surrounded by boxes of general supplies
- canned food, building material, janitorial supplies and even some live
chickens. It wasn’t the first time they’d been in such cages,
but it was unusual to be left without a gag. Jessica was pointlessly
tugging at her chains refusing to accept that she’d been defeated.
She despised herself for getting her friend into this mess. It was Kate’s
turn to provide the encouragement.
“Cheer up Jessi. At least we had a day out! Although I felt
we could have used a little more time to take in the sights and do some
shopping!”
Jessica gave a sardonic laugh. “I’m glad you can see
the funny side, but I’m not sure The Lodge will feel the same way.
You know we’re going to be punished, don’t you? They might
even decide to sell us.”
That wasn’t something Kate had contemplated. She, or at least
her body, was liked and enjoyed by staff and visitors alike, surely they
wouldn’t dispose of her! “Well, what if we apologize?”
“Oh Katie. You are wonderful! If you want to apologize to
them, please do so... but I just couldn’t. I would rather they disposed
of me to some fucking Arab than be defeated by them.”
“Hey, that’s a bit racist, Jessi!”
“Hah! Wasn’t it your Arab boyfriend in Kuwait that sold
you into slavery?”
“Well...yes, I suppose so, but they’re not all bad. You
were kidnapped by Americans, your fellow countrymen, so they aren’t
exactly the good guys!”
The Rabbit Island harbour, or rather its primitive jetty in a sheltered
inlet, came into view, curtailing the bunnies’ increasingly irritable
exchanges. They were tired and hungry, and almost glad to be back on
Rabbit Island again, and even started to think about what was for supper.
The shoreline in the distance seemed alive with activity. Up to
a dozen people were waiting for them...that’s if you count the ponygirls.
Two pairs of harnessed ponygirls were standing and waiting, each attached
in front of their usual single axle traps, and on this occasion their
lightweight trailers. Today they had some extra cargo to haul back to
The Lodge.
End of Chapter 1
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