Michael Meets the Crymaker


by Nathan <Nathan9001@yahoo.com>

Michael Hanson, 17, wasn't a bad kid really. He had just done a really stupid thing two weeks ago, when he had decided to get back at his girlfriend's dad by vandalizing his home. Smashing the mailbox wasn't that big a deal really, but what had probably pissed the judge off the most was when he attacked her dad's automobile in the school parking lot. Yeah, the paint was definitely a bad idea, as was putting the nails under all four tires. The last, and certainly the dumbest part of the whole thing was when he threw the open paint can at the school building as he was leaving.....

Well, caught, sentenced, and now, here he was, in the holding cell, waiting for his punishment to begin. Man, what would it be like? 34 strokes! Strokes? What did that really mean, anyway? The judge had read the sentence with a smile: "Michael Hanson, you are a disgrace to your family and to this community. You have victimized Mr. Rick Sullivan, and caused damage to his vehicle and home. You have victimized your entire school body, defacing school property and showing no regard to the students or faculty that attend there. You are hereby sentenced by this court to be incarcerated while awaiting your punishment, which will take place 5 days from today, at noon on Saturday, the 14th day of March. At that time you are to be stripped of your clothing, and to be placed upon the state punishment apparatus. There, you are to receive 17 strokes at maximum force, laid upon your bare and exposed buttocks, followed by an additional 17 strokes at the willing and majority consent of the victims. May you set an example for others that vandalism will not be tolerated, and may God have mercy on your ass." And with that, he had been taken away, fingerprinted, and now, here he was.

Under the new corporal punishment law enacted some 2 years ago, there had been a few ramblings in the press, but basically everyone was now happy and it appeared the act was hear to stay. Teenage crime had fallen dramatically, and some gangs had simply ceased to exist. The punishment "apparatus" as the judge had called it even had a nickname: "The Crymaker." Mike had read the written reports, and had heard the discussions at school, but never really thought he would someday be facing the reality of a first hand experience. He knew a few things; that the punishment wasn't going to be fun, that he was supposed to lose his clothes, and that there was some kind of punishment machine that would administer his actual punishment. He knew the machine was located somewhere in the jailhouse, and while these punishment sessions weren't exactly open to the general public, anyone who had an interest or had been hurt as a result of the prisoner's misdeeds could be invited. Wow. He wondered if there would be any witnesses today.

Just then four guards showed with big smiles painted on their faces. It was time. Looking at them, Mike realized that there wasn't much he was going to be able to do to get out of this. One of them grabbed his arms, and he was handcuffed and led out of the holding cell. An elevator ride, and a long hall, and then through a door and he was standing in a small room, with a giant looking metallic monster staring at him. THE CRYMAKER! Immediately the guards went to work, and Mike was forced to step into a pair of boots. Looking much like ski boots, they were latched and were firmly attached to his feet. The boots were mounted to the machine, and could be moved apart, or closer together depending on how the machine was programmed. His feet secured, the handcuffs were removed and then his wrists were re-attached to two leather wrist cuffs, each hooked to the machine in such a way that the machine could stretch out his arms or move them to almost any position programmed. Once secured, the guards came up with two pairs of scissors, and with expert precision started to cut his clothes off!!!! Right up the pants legs, and his pants were open! Then off, with a single pull! They cut right up his shirt back, right down both sleeves, and his shirt fell to the floor. His boxer shorts were all he had lefffffftt..and then....they were GONE!

Mike stood in shock...totally nude! He had never really felt so vulnerable in his entire life. Stark naked, with four men standing over him, smiling and laughing at his embarrassment. His armpit hair and his dark brown pubic bush were suddenly on display, and as he was held standing he realized there was nothing he could do. Suddenly, the machine made a movement, and his legs were slowly separated by the moving boots, and his arms and legs moved out and apart until he was totally spread eagled. The two guards then walked around to his front, and one of them stared him in the face and said "Hey buddy....hope you enjoy the ride!" as he burst out laughing. Then he said "It's time for your "humiliation ring."

Then, without warning, the man took Mike's penis in his hand. Mike was shocked...he begged them to leave it alone, but he suddenly realized that the guards were busy, still hooking him into the machine. One guard squirted some baby oil on his _c_o_c_k_, and the another guard attached a rubber sleeve, more of a circular ring about two inches across, over the end of his _c_o_c_k_. The ring was slid down almost to the base of his dick, so as to rest up against his ballsack with his dick sticking out of it. Mike was in panic....he was yelling and begging and asking and yet there was nothing he could say to stop them. The guards worked quickly, and when the _c_o_c_k_ slide was over his dick, it too was attached to the machine. There were two arms on the sleeve, and anytime Mike made a motion the arms oscillated, back and forth, forcing the slippery rubber sleeve to travel up and down the length of his penis. My God! The sleeve wasn't exactly mechanical....it was hooked to two little arms that had bob-weights and springs so that when Mike moved the spring loaded arms were put in motion, and that motion was translated by the sleeve on his dick moving up and down and up and down. If he stopped moving, the oscillations would slowly stop, dying out after a few strokes. God....it was like the machine had a rubber hand, and if he moved it would slowly jack him for all the world to see. His dick had already responded to the attention, and for the first time in his life he was getting an erection that someone else could see. Oh GOD!

Behind the machine was a mirror. The mirror gave the machine the illusion of filling even more of the room than it did, and when Mike looked over his shoulder he could see his own ass staring back at him...his balls hanging down. Why the mirror???? It was then that Mike noticed the blue curtain. It was definitely a curtain he was facing and he could hear noises behind the curtain. What was it....oh God...there were people out there! Mike asked the guard quietly "Hey...who the _f_u_c_k_ is out there....please...please I cant be seen like this!" One of the guards said "Oh yeah Mickey boy...they are the people you hurt with your crimes. They get to watch you get punished, and after you get half-way done, you will be given exactly 3 minutes to blabber an apology to them. Better make it good, cause after you talk they get to input the number of strokes you still get. They can stop the punishment by putting in a zero....or they can go for the max and give you another 17. Better hope they put a zero in....." "And hope you didnt piss em off too badly" he added with a smile. The other guard said "Hey, it's almost noon...."

Then, the guards walked out, and Mike was alone, held by the mechanical monster, spread eagled, with his dick sticking upwards and out. Then, he heard a speaker, loud and clear.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. MICHAEL HANSON, MALE, AGED 17, HAS BEEN SENTENCED BY THE COURT OF BRINRICK COUNTY TO 34 STROKES ON HIS BARE BUTTOCKS FOR HIS CRIMES OF VANDALISM. FOLLOWING THE FIRST 17 STROKES, THE PRISONER WILL BE GIVEN THE OPTION TO SPEAK, AFTER WHICH EACH OF YOU WHO WERE VICTIMIZED BY THE PRISONER, MAY INPUT THE NUMBER OF STROKES YOU FEEL HE STILL DESERVES, IF ANY. YOUR INPUTS WILL BE AVERAGED, AND YOU MAY REMAND ANY PORTION OF THE REMAINING SENTENCE. ANY ADDITIONAL STROKES CALLED FOR, IF ANY, WILL THEN BE ADMINISTERED. PUNISHMENT WILL NOW COMMENCE."

Then, the curtain parted! Mike couldn't believe his eyes...the room was full! There must have been 200 people staring at him! Oh God....he knew them! There, in the first row, was Mr. Sullivan, and Oh God...Kathy was there too! No! Oh please. And his friends from school....the principal, his teachers, and OH GOD, there was Brant Richards....the jerk who was always making fun of him! Oh no...this couldn't be happening.......but it was. All of them his victims...one way or the other. And as all eyes watched, the machine pulled his arms forward.......pulling his body forward too, and forcing him to bend over the portion of the apparatus that was attached around his _c_o_c_k_. His butt was stuck out now, his face leaning out towards the crowd. Mike instantly struggled, and as the machine forced his legs still further apart, he bucked his hips trying one last time to get lose...to somehow, get away. Oh God...the movement caused the sleeve around his dick to begin to oscillate again, and as it did a look of total shock and embarrassment came over him. His faced blushed crimson, and the crowd burst out laughing, all eyes on his dick. Then, without warning, he heard a tremendous bang...followed by a near instant flame that ignited and burned its way across his ass! The machine had literally fired a paddle into his ass....an oak board 1/2 inch thick, 5 inches across, and 3 1/3 feet long, it was the only non-metallic part of the machine. Mike yelled "FUUUUUCK!" as the paddle smacked him....a look of shock across his face. He had jerked his hips when the paddle smacked him, and he felt that ring sliding over his _c_o_c_k_ again, fueled by the gyrations of his hips, and .....all the world watching as it did!

The crowd watched and laughed....Mike's white ass turning cherry red in the mirror right before their eyes. For most of them, it was something to watch and recount later. For Rick Sullivan, it was deeply satisfying....watching the young hoodlum get what he deserved. He had dragged his daughter here with him, just to add to the boys embarrassment and to show her what kind of guy she had been dating.

Bang! Again the burn. A deep, ever-spreading burn. Tears in his eyes....nothing he could do....he was suddenly crying. Yelling. Oblivious to the crowd. Within only a few stokes he was crying like a baby...a deep, remorseful cry, struggling, begging; BEGGING for it to stop. BANG! Another smack....another jerk...and OH GOD, his _f_u_c_k_ing dick....in and out went that ring....begging it to stop...willing it to stop.....but then, BANG, a scream! It was him screaming he realized....sweat pouring down the sides of his face...snot running out his nose. Oh God. BANG. CRACK. BANG. With each stroke the machine fired the paddle into his ass, a solid crack reverberating across the auditorium. Tears were flowing down Mikes face, he was a mass of red-faced hysteria, struggling to get away, to somehow, get lose, to....Oh NO...his dick! The feeling! It was growing inside his ballsack, in spite of the burn to his rear. His ass on fire. Literally. Oh no....BANG, oh PLEASEEEEEEEE, NO....NO.... Then, as yet another BANG sliced into his rear, he screamed with a yell of pain and then another cry of orgasm unlike any orgasm ever felt before. Long white strings of jism began to shoot out of the length of his dick....arcing across the stage. CRACK...his ass bucking forward, his dick pumping more, his tears flowing freely, and his ass so brightly red now that it shone! His embarrassment was complete, his face solid red, matching his ass, and his dick pumped its goo for all the world to see. Suddenly everything stopped....he was aware of the laughter of the crowd, there was a lot of applause as he shot his load, and he was crying and babbling like a baby.

The loudspeaker crackled "17 STROKES DELIVERED...PRISONER HAS 3 MINUTES TO SPEAK"

Mike suddenly realized his crying was even louder....the microphone in front of his lips was putting his words out. He had to get them to stop this.....he had to apologize..... God, his ass hurt so _f_u_c_k_ing bad....the tears were running down his face....he tried to talk...tried to say something....anything.... "Pleeeeease.....I'm sorry...I am.....oh....plllllllllease......I'm.....oh pleeeease....no more........I can'ttttttt....pleeeeaseeeeeee....oh my....my ass......oh.....I'm sorry..." It was the babbling of a 17 year old male sounding like a little boy and with an ass that was blistered raw....the voice of desperation....the crying voice of a sorry teenage criminal willing to say anything to make it stop.

The loudspeaker crackled "TIME LIMIT IS UP---VICTIMS HAVE 30 SECONDS TO TYPE IN THEIR VOTE FOR ADDITIONAL PUNISHMENT DESERVED"

Mike was still trying to talk...to apologize...to say something...but the microphone by his lips had been deactivated, and he was desperate....begging for it to be over. His fate was now in the hands of all those he had victimized......Kathy's dad..there, making an entry. Was it 17? Zero? There was his principal...and his teachers...and then, his friends......surely, they wouldn't demand his ass take any more???????' He watched as they typed in their vote.....the fate of his ass literally on-the-line. What were they typing into their keypads????

"TIME IS UP---VICTIMS RESPONSES AVERAGED--ADDITIONAL STROKES TO BE DELIVERED: 12"

Mike was stunned! What....oh GOD, no more! How could they????? Oh no...WHY? CRACK! Mike's eyes flew wide open.....his mouth open----staring in shock...in agony! His ass lit up again, like there was no tomorrow. He screamed.....screamed again...struggled...and he felt that pulsing on his dick...the wet and slimy humiliation ring moving up and down on his spent dick.....goo still oozing to the floor.

CRACK!

Just a long continuos babbling cry now. A struggle of desperation....an ass on fire....an ass that felt as if it was literally cooking.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Again and again and again the machine without thought or feeling smacked out the sentence called for by his victims. The cracking paddle reduced Mike to a sobbing boy, devoid of any respect, his self esteem shattered for all time by the relentless paddle and the sliding ring, still moving up an down, up and down. Nothing he could do....CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK..........................


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