On Tuesday morning I had my second whipping of the week, getting through it fairly OK but not as well as on Monday, I started crying with the ninth lash. Pulled myself together before I got down on the floor, though. I hate being down on my knees, with my dick and balls and newly whipped ass in full view, sobbing like a little boy. Looking like a little boy, for that matter, shaven and bare. I feel very ashamed. I was never spanked as a child (except for the basement experience with Ed), mom and Louis and sometimes Grandpa used to slap me around, but they never bared me or put me over their knees, like some of my friends were treated. I´m not used to that kind of humiliation, and I hope I´ll never be.
I spent the better part of the Tuesday writing my assignment and pages. I had my Monday papers on the table, deciding I wouldn´t check on them until I´d finished my task. If I had another punishment coming I didn´t want to know about it. I was trying to figure out what mr Jackson wanted from me, and when I did, give it to him but not too obviously. I already knew he didn´t want me to complain or defend myself. What he did want wasn´t that clear yet. I couldn´t go on writing about Metallica for the next two weeks and a half.
My Monday papers were looking very blackish. I had my heart in my socks before I even started reading, and death defyingly turned the last page first:
"Apparently you have decided that faking it is the ticket out of here. It isn´t and you´re being surprisingly stupid. Since you´ve already topped your whipping account this week and most certainly will continue doing so the next week, you get three extra assignments today, to be handed in on Thursday. 1. Describe yourself in detail – the outer and inner you. You are expected to be as honest as possible. A minimum of five pages. 2. Describe in at least five pages exactly what went through your head before, during and after your Friday punishment. You are allowed to use bad language and will not be punished for it, as long as you´re not exaggerating. Note that this is an exception. 3. Discuss the pros and cons of your current life style, e. g. prior to custody and Crowmill. At least five pages required. It goes without saying that you´re still to fulfil your regular assignments and your daily papers."
I looked at the clock on the wall. It was 5.15 p. m. I already felt dead tired from writing all day and thinking hard of how to express myself. I also had a very sore ass and a strong need to recover as much as possible with the Wednesday ordeal at hand. And on top of that, the _f_u_c_k_er threw these on me. I had to start on them tonight, if I should stand a chance to keep the deadline.
In sheer deperation, I decided to be brutally honest. And I was. I started with the second item. There were certain things I couldn´t write down, of course, like accusing him of raping me (which I knew for a fact that he had, but I wasn´t a moron) or telling about my sadistic fantasy massacre. But I did write about the frustration of being deprived of all legal rights, being punished for something I didn´t do and how being constantly humiliated and in pain affected me. I tried very hard not to pity myself, then I decided that it was impossible not to, if I was to be honest. Either I would sink or swim. I wrote intensely for about two hours, interrupted by supper, producing seven pages and a half, and I finished it off by writing I hate this _f_u_c_k_ing place. For a while, it made me feel very good. Then I started worrying about what would come out of it. I wasn´t allowed to throw anything I´d written away, the whole lot was collected. I once ate a page where I thoughtlessly had used the f-word twice. I could never eat seven pages (and the half), not even in three days.
Still, I reluctantly had to hand it to mr Jackson. He seemed to see clear through me most of the time, which was a good deal more than the old fart or anyone else, for that matter, had managed. My current assignments were tough but more of a challenge than the ones I had on my first round.
I went to bed at eight and must have fallen asleep shortly afterwards. I slept heavily all night and didn´t wake up until bell call.
On my way between shower room and punishment room I kneeled and asked the screws for more books. I was told that the limit was three a week, and I asked to be given all of them, which meant 15 points off. They said they would see to it a. s.a. p. This was a move in my private game of chess. At least I had fixed myself something to look forward to.
I was naked on my knees before I knew it, and mr Jackson explained to me what I already knew, that I was having an extra 10 for dishonesty. He also asked me if I understood the reason why. I said that yes, sir, I did. Then I asked for permission to speak, and he granted it.
"Sir, I´d like to go through this without any breaks, if it´s permitted," I said.
"Jennings, look at me."
I obeyed. I was trembling already and looking at him made it worse.
"What kind of bull_s_h_i_t_ are you up to this time?" he asked.
"None that I know of, sir." I said.
"There are rules for that, you know", he said. "At least one break when the punishment exceeds ten lashes. Bet you´re hoping I´d lose my strength in the end." (He was partly right by that.) "I wouldn´t. Still, you´re having a tough time and if I can ease it a little by letting you have your way for once, I´d be happy to oblige." He smiled. It wasn´t a very nice smile.
"Thank you, sir", I said. "It´s very generous of you, sir." You _f_u_c_k_ing creep, you could have eased it in a lot of ways, but you haven´t.
"Let´s get on with it, then."
I braced myself while nurse did her job and the strap screws theirs. Nurse asked mr Jackson about the butt plug, and he said it wasn´t necessary, since I was only having 20 lashes.
Only! Bet you´d _s_h_i_t_ on yourself if you had five!
"That bottom of yours sure looks worn out, Jennings," mr Jackson said. "Next week, I´ll let you trade in your points on Tuesday and Thursday, that is, if you have any. Might inspire you a bit. OK, are you ready?"
" I am sir. One, please, sir."
"Jennings, cut the please. It´s embarrassing."
"Yes, sir. One, sir."
I was already very sore, and the pain was excruciating. While I mastered it I recalled my first whippings, how I whimpered and cried about them. Little did I know what I had coming. Then I had to focus hard on getting through the rest. I did well with the first seven, fighting harder than ever. Number eight landed on an especially sore spot and made me yelp.
"Now we´re getting somewhere", mr Jackson said. "I was afraid I´d actually lost my strength. Or that you had fallen asleep."
He was as good a marksman as ever. When I managed to endure the following three, he put the next on exactly the same sore spot, and I first yelled out and then started crying with the hellish pain. And I still had eight to go.
"Thi-hirteen, sir."
"Where have your manners gone, Jennings?" The bloody bastard, he knew that using my name all the time made me even more aware of the fix I was in.
"I´m sorry, sir. Tha-hank you, sir. Thirteen, sir."
"Unlucky number", he said and let me have it all over again, the same spot, the same sick red hot pain. I howled and felt like I was going to faint. The pain went on for ever, and I sensed blood trickling down my leg. It took a while to pull myself together and nurse lifted my face, studied it carefully and checked my pulse at the same time. Then she sighed a little and nodded to mr Jackson. I finally managed to thank him and count out the next, feeling my whole body tensing with anticipation.
He didn´t hit the sore spot again. He put the rest over or under it, and he let me have one very close to the knee straps, too. I´d never had one that low.
I barely made the full 20. The last three made me scream wildly and nearly wet myself. Mr Jackson also proved to know himself well, he didn´t lose any of his strength on the way.
When I got off the frame, I fainted. I woke up lying on my belly on the floor with the blood pressure bracelet on my right arm. I felt nauseous and very weak. I heard nurse say that I had to be put under observation for the next 24 hours, and she also ordered a stretcher. I tried to get up. I didn´t want to be carried out of there. Hell, I had taken far more than this before and always been able to stand up afterwards, and I had to get back to my cell to get on with my assignments. I felt a shoe on my back, pressing me down.
"Lie put, Jennings."
"Permission to speak, sir", I said in a strangely thin voice.
"Go ahead."
"Sir, I have assignments to finish. I don´t need observation, I´ll be fine again soon, sir."
Mr Jackson sighed heavily.
"Can´t keep your mouth shut ever, can you?", he said. "You´ve had enough wishes come true today. The assignments are postponed for medical reasons. You´ll continue where you left off as soon as you´re allright."
I was put on the stretcher and taken to the medical ward. I didn´t even know there was one. It was next to the doctor´s reception in the main building. A clean white room with two beds and a pair of curtained windows. I had a shirt and shackles put on and was chained to the bed. The chain allowed me to move around, but not to get up on the floor. My hands were left free.
"I´ll take over from here," nurse said, dismissing the warders. Then she turned to me:
"Now, what was that all about? You´re in no condition to be so heavily whipped without even a break. Did you plan on this to happen for one reason or another?"
"No, ma´m," I said, lying on my belly, sniffing the clean, homely smell of the soft pillow. "I just wanted to get it over with."
"Stupid boy," she said. "I´m getting the doctor. Stay where you are."
I managed to smile because it was a joke, not a very funny one but I wasn´t very hard to please at the moment. I also thought of me making mr Jackson breach a regulation. I didn´t suppose he´d get a whipping, but I sure hoped it earned him at least a remark.
I stayed in the infirmary for two days, getting my wounds tended to. I was put on painkillers and some other medication, and the doctor decided I was to be med ex´ed before I had another whipping. I was back in my cell by 9 a. m. that Friday and was due to see the doctor first thing Monday morning. My Tuesday paper and assignments were on the table together with three books. I felt a hot rush of pure joy seeing the books. I also still had the bucket, which meant I didn´t have to go through the humiliating loo visits for yet a while, and I was temporarily rid of the _f_u_c_k_ing rubbers, even the neckring. In my small and painful world, this was a taste of heaven.
On Friday afternoon I had a visitor.