The Unjustly Punished Lady Lawyer - Sex Stories

The Unjustly Punished Lady Lawyer

... guards and then yelled some more about taking me to the "truth room."

Oh no, I thought, not that. I didn't resist because it would have been useless. On the way down there, I said in disgust, "I've told you everything I know about him. Take care because this might get you put on trial in the Hague."

Yes, it was the torture room, dungeon, or whatever you want to call it. They made me take off the prison smock, use the loo, and then wash myself on the bidet. I noticed Sourpuss scrutinising my pussy; she was probably jealous that I still had a clit.

They lowered a crossbar sort of thing on the end of a rope from the ceiling and secured my wrists to it. It hoisted me back into the air until it was supporting perhaps a third of my weight. They made me spread my feet and secured my ankles to another similar bar, which was fastened to two metal rings on the floor.

They adjusted the upper rope so that I was not being stretched. Then they blindfolded me thoroughly. I never actually saw who flogged me or carried out the subsequent beating, and I didn't think it was Sourpuss or either of the guards.

There were some footsteps. It could have been the person who did it arriving. My arms were free to swing around just a little, but I couldn't move my ankles at all. The torture room was at least twenty-five feet square.

They took something down from the wall. There was a little rustle in the air, then CRAACKI -- something hit me across the back between the shoulders. It ...

... hurt, but not badly. They kept this up for perhaps five minutes and I endured it almost in silence, apart from a few gasps for breath, but I could handle this. I feared worse was to come.

"Golden Girl (I'm a natural blonde and aren't they envious!!), that was just a warning. Now feel this."

There was a somewhat sharper whistle and a thinner, sharper smacking sound, but after an initial numbness, an awful burning pain spread across my back.

It must have been the cat of nine tails. I tried not to yell out and little my lip. Thirty seconds later, another stroke stung even more. This was agony. I still managed not to yell, but I felt hot tears welling up behind the blindfold. They kept on with the cat or whatever it was until, at about stroke number five or six, I started crying out.

I think they gave me about twelve strokes in all until I began to weaken and hang from the upper crossbar. They let me hang there for a few minutes. Someone threw some cold water over my back and I could feel it dripping down. I prayed they had not cut me, but it felt as if they had. My strength slowly returned, but my back was on fire.

There was total silence from the audience. I felt a guard get hold of me while they loosened the upper spreader bar and then undid my ankles. They lifted me over the 'vaulting horse.'

They secured my wrists and ankles to the legs and put another strap around my waist, doing it up tight. I couldn't move. I heard the whistle of a cane as someone tested it ...