I was on one of those citizen tours of the state prison, and I had to sneak off to take a leak. We had just been shown the new gymnasium, so I ducked into the locker-room and shower area to find the head. Everything nice and new. When I was done I headed out; but instead of turning back toward the playing field, I got mixed up and took a left.
There was a weight room off to one side, some store rooms for equipment beyond that; but then the hallway started going downhill. "What's down here," I thought. It kept going down, and I realized there must be a lower level under the gym. It was pretty dark down there, with only the light of an occasional 30 watt bulb. After a while the passage dead-ended and you had to go right or left. Left was turning out to be interesting so far, so I decided to go that way. It went on for quite some time with twists and turns; and it was getting quite a bit dimmer, until I thought I better get back to the group before I got lost. I was about to turn around, when it seemed like I heard voices ahead. There was no one to be seen, but two steps later I nearly bumped into a wooden door. The passage had come to an end, but I hadn't seen it in the poor light. Now I could make out a sign on the door. It said: "Humble Pie, Inc.."
Underneath ran the words: "Correctional Humiliation Facility."
"Correctional What??" I thought. I tried the door, and was surprised to find that it opened. But what really astonished me was that a uniformed guard took my arm and pulled me in. "You're late," he said. "There's a seat left over there."
I found myself in a square, wood panelled room with seating on four sides, like a theater in the round. The rows went down like bleachers, with a "stage" area in the middle about 15 feet square. The rows of seats were full, and the place seemed to be packed with people. I was perplexed by what stood there in the middle--what in hell was going on here? It was a set of stocks, like from the colonial days, and right beside it lay what looked like a kind of trap-door.
There were three loud knocks at the entry way, and everyone turned to look. "Here comes the guest of honor!" said a man next to me with a chuckle. The door opened, and two uniformed guards escorted a guy in between them, marching him down the steps. They took him to a narrow platform that jutted over one corner of the "stage." The "guest" was a big man in a business suit, broadly built with dark hair and a moustache, his large jaw in need of a shave. "Gregory David Medford, 441 East Jefferson Avenue, Huntsville," one of the guards announced loudly, "has just received a second conviction for D. U. I.!"
Murmurings and boos were heard. The guy seemed confused and disoriented--he had apparently been taken here directly from the courthouse. They didn't leave him in the dark for long, however; for a man in athletic shorts and a tee shirt that said "Dunkmaster General" stepped into the arena. He looked about in his fifties, tall, balding and in excellent shape; with a reddish mustache. He was wearing a whistle.
"That's Sgt. Miller," the man next to me said, a middle aged guy in a down vest and a "Skoal" cap.
"Got anything to say for yourself, Medford?" The balding man called.
"What the--? Where am I?" demanded the suit.
"Maybe I better explain something about your situation," the other replied. He was in charge here, apparently. "In this place, superiors are addressed respectfully, with 'Sir.'" he said. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid that blunders in etiquette carry a penalty. Mr. McClusky," he nodded to a guard.
The officers took off the prisoner's jacket, then loosened his tie, and removed it.
"What the--" the man said angrily, snatching at the tie, "Give me that!"
The tall balding man shook his head. "Well Mr. Medford, that's going to cost you. Officers, do your duty!" McClusky, a large gray haired man with a big grin, seized the prisoner's shirt in both fists, and ripped it, buttons flying, off his person; while his assistant Mr. Wells began to remove his shoes. The man stood now in his suitpants and jersey, seething with indignation.
"Now see here--! I mean, SIR--" he quickly corrected himself, beginning to catch on, but it was too late: the officer took a large pair of scissors and cut his jersey off him, leaving the Medford bare to the waist, hairy chest and thick shoulders heaving. He was mad as a hornet.
"Goddammit!" he fumed. "My attorney will--!"
"Your lawyer can't help you here," Sergeant Miller interrupted, "You're in the Big House now!"
The man looked around the place in disbelief.
"Two DUI's and you expect to get off without consequences? Your day in court is over, Pal. This is punishment time!"
At this, rumblings of agreement and approval were heard around the room.
"As you know Mr. Medford," the moderator continued, "public humiliation is now authorized for repeat offenders. Proceed, Mr. McCluskey."
To his horror, Medford now felt his arms yanked firmly behind him, as the hearty officer knelt with a smile, and gently and carefully started to unzip the large man's pants.
"Oh no-- Come on... Please, not the pants!" Medford gasped. He swallowed quickly, panicking. "Sir," he said hoarsely, "Please don't do this--!"
My jaw dropped. Many of my neighbors watched with low, approving chuckles as the convict publicly got his pants taken down, and Officer Wells brought a dunce cap! I'm afraid I found myself chuckling too.
He was a BVD's man, and I bet he was feeling pretty foolish. I know he wished he had worn clean underpants! With his yellow spot below, he was crimson above as his whole head went red as a beet.
"Old fashioned shame helps us focus," said the Dunkmaster. "Our job here is to fix a lesson in the mind by means of a little public embarrassment."
He reached into a duffel bag and took out a paddle that had holes drilled in it. It said "Board of Education."
"There's not much more embarrassing than a spanking," he said.
Men laughed in surprise, obviously in agreement.
"Believe it or not," he chuckled, "licks hurt just as much at age 45 as they did at 14." He gave a pop across his palm, as if to demonstrate, and men began to hoot at the embarrassing punishment in store.
"Yep," he smiled, "from the schoolhouse to the fraternity house, from the locker-room to the barracks, this gets right to the Seat of the problem!" He smacked the board across his hand, hard. "That goes for a grown man too. Especially when he has to take down his pants, and get the swats in front of his peers. Get up here, Medford!"
I couldn't believe my eyes--was he really gonna paddle this guy, right here in front of everyone!?
"You--you can't do that," the captive stammered, "...I'll sue! If that thing so much as touches--"
The Dunkmaster strode quickly across to the prisoner's dock. "Oh it'll touch it," he said, poking the man in his chest, "It'll touch it all right! Folks have been waiting a long time for people like you to pay a price. Well guess what pal, that day is here. There's a public amends for _f_u_c_k_-ups! It's humiliating punishment, and that's just what's going to happen to you. Right Now!"
As McCluskey and Wells held him, Sgt. Miller pulled down the convict's shorts and grabbed him by the ear!
"Come on, tough guy!"
I don't know who was more surprised, me or the prisoner. My eyes were bugging out--it was unbelievable! Painfully twisting his left ear, Sgt. Miller seized the tall naked man by the shoulder, in his armpit, and roughly started marching him around before the spectators in the dunce cap! As he marched, he lectured; and as he lectured...well... he got his big right hand behind the prisoner and gave his bare bottom some hard spanks!
"Some big shots think they're above the law!"
WHHOPP!!
"They get bent over in the PUBLIC WOODSHED!"
WHHOPP!!
"Time for a Lesson with the Board of Education!"
WHHOPP!!
"Here's a Dunce; one PADDLIN' comin' up!"
WHHOPP!!
The spectators were mighty interested in this, and they were starting to laugh and whistle.
"Let's go now, Bad Boy!"
Smaack, SMMAACKK!!
"Come on with me!" He tugged his ear till he was nearly bent double.
SMMAACKK!! He swatted and twisted as he yanked the tall man along, who was painfully bending down to keep up with his captor
"Come and meet the FANNY WARMER!!"
Medford's penis got erect as the Sergeant drove him with hearty spanks. They must have stung, because by the time they got up there his round butt was cherry pink! _s_h_i_t_, this was great, man! This guy was gonna get a lesson with a real old fashioned "Board of Education," just like you read about--I hoped they were gonna whup his butt but good! I glanced at my neighbor, his face was flushed red and wearing a grin.
The Sergeant made the convict stand on the outlines of two feet, and grabbed the paddle.
"Ever been in a fraternity, Medford!? Hold your ankles!"
Oh _f_u_c_k_, man! Amazing!
BAAMMM!!
"AAAAAWWWWWW!!!" Medford jumped up and grabbed his behind, and the spectators all roared with laughter.
"Assume the position, Mr. Medford," Sgt. Miller admonished theatrically, "You're not done yet, young man!"
"Hot _d_a_m_n_!" my bench mate laughed delightedly and slapped me on the back, "They're gonna roast his heinie!"
Medford' dick was big and at attention as he touched his toes. "Goddammit!" he said.
BAAAMM!!
"AAAAGGGGHHHH!!!" Medford hollered like a stuck pig, and if you had the right seats, you could see the marks on his ass. Whoa boy, they were deep red and I bet they hurt bad!
"Paddle some BEE-hind!" called a man from the top row.
"Don't spare the Rod!!" another yelled.
BAAAMM!! BAAAMM!! BAAAMM!!
AAAAAGGGGGHHH-HA-HA-HAAAA!! Three good swats, and the burly dude was struggling to keep his position, white-hot welts on his fanny. He was gettin' a trip to the Hot Seat!
"Stand up, Prisoner!" ordered the Dunkmaster. Medford shot upright grasping his balls; he hopped up and down, scarlet with surprise and outrage at the sting! Tears had sprung to his eyes.
"Six months in the slammer ahead! This is how we punish! How's that attitude!??" He grabbed the big man's ear.
"I'm sorry Sir!" Medford said, "I'm--I'm very sorry!"
"Learning a lesson from my Fanny Paddle, Prince Charming!?"
"Yes," he gasped.
"I didn't hear that, Medford, SPEAK UP!"
"YES SIR!!" he howled miserably.
"I'd like to see some deep knee bends now, Mr. Medford, as you apologize to these people for your behavior. Stand at attention and place your hands behind your head!"
The hapless convict presented himself before one of the rows of spectators and took the instructed position.
"And...exercise!"
Folks now enjoyed the spectacle as up, down, up, down, the prisoner began to perform the squats. He stammered out the apology as best he could.
"I'm---hah--I'm sorry I--hah--I had a very bad--hah--I was wrong--hah--please excuse my..."
But the room soon filled with hearty guffaws, as Mr. Wells, at the third or fourth squat, brought a ceramic potty labelled "the Pity Pot,"--geez, how embarrassing!--and slid it under Medford's butt. When his hairy fanny touched the seat, he sprang up in surprise to see what he had sat on, and the place erupted with merriment. Medford turned five shades of scarlet when he saw it, they were gonna make him sit on the Potty! The Dunkmaster had him sit there while everyone laughed, then hauled him back by the ear to get paddled with the board!
Whoa ho, this was good old fashioned punishment! The prisoner grabbed his ankles, and the Dunkmaster gave him a swat. BAAAMM!! "NNNNNGGGG!!" he grimaced, teeth clenched in rage. He was so pissed! But he got four more pops, good and hard, across his bare crack. BAAAMM!! BAAAMM!! BAAAMM!! BAAAMM!!
"YEEEEEEEAAAAAOOWWWWW!! OWW!! OWW!! AAGGHH!!" he hollered. Those licks musta heated his seat, but good. His sitting-down spot was scarlet! He straightened up, wet with sweat; his face, ears and bald spot red. The two guards kept his arms pinned now, while another prison officer was wheeling out a gigantic red "Wheel of Chance."
"We paddle the fanny to let a convict know he's in trouble," Sgt. Miller explained, "and when we have his attention, we play 'Spin the Wheel.' This invention was developed here some years ago, and starting to get adopted now in prisons across the country."
The new officer flipped a switch, and the many sectors on the enormous disk lit up, while a scrim slid down from the ceiling, where illustrations and explanations relating to the different colored sectors on the wheel were projected. The first screen appeared to be an introduction.
"Welcome to the Punishment Selector!" it said, "A means of providing disciplinary alternatives for prisoners. Use the Selector at a punishment assembly, or as an introduction for new convicts. When a prisoner is in trouble, simply send him to the Punishment Selector to determine his penalty. By spinning the Wheel, one or more of the following punishments are awarded:
Dunking, Tar and Feathers, Principal's Office, The Stocks, Fuller Brush Man, The Whipping Post, Convict's Choice, the Cage, Spin Again, and The Spanker."
There were about forty sectors on the wheel, and each punishment appeared several times. One very narrow sector said "2nd Chance: No Punishment--This Time!
(Part 2 soon to follow...)