THE COLONY

I had just taken leave of my favorite pub one Saturday afternoon, with nothing better to do than find may way back home afoot after aimlessly nursing a pint within for the past hour or so.  My mind wandered as I headed up the street past the assundry shoppes, cafes, and eateries that lined the narrow, cozy winding cobblestones amidst the occasional clip-clop of horsedrawn carriages-for-pay and the less infrequent whir of passing motorcars. I had finished my adolescent boarding school over three years ago, now, and my thoughts reverted back to those days.  I recalled the comraderie, experiences, friendships, and acquaintances of both students and Schoolmistresses alike, and found that I missed those fleeting days and times at Malmont Academy.  I was now 22, and still undecided as to my future, be it university, business, or even a stint in the service.  

My daydreams focused on the Headmistress in particular, Ms. Brandish, whom had greatly influenced my growth, education, and life at Malmont during my four-year tenure there.  I benefited immeasureably from the guidance and teaching I received under Ms. Brandish, albeit at times stringently strict to the letter and unswervingly severe.  I turned into a local coffee shoppe as I neared home for some fresh ground beans or some Earl Grey tea to help pacify me later on in the evening.  As I approached the shopkeeper to settle up and be on my way, I instinctively turned to see if there was anything I had overlooked in my initial pass.  I noticed an attractive brunette woman, perhaps 8 or 10 years my senior at the rear of the shoppe, thumbing through the stacks impatiently in search of whatever.  She finally quarried her prey and I kept my eye on her as she approached the counter.  She was well-dressed in business casual attire, fashionable, but not tawdry for her age, with her hair up, and small brown framed glasses, as if for reading.  As she drew nearer, I couldn't help but feel an air of familiarity about her, and finally, it hit me.  No it couldn't be!  

"Ms. Brandish?"

"Joshua, is that you?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"Well, what a surprise.  I don't think that we have crossed paths in years, since you left the Academy.  How are you?"

"I am fine, Ma'am, and yourself?  I have missed you!"

"Have you, now, Joshua?  If my memory serves me, I went rather harshly on you at times.  You were a hard one to break, haha!"  

"Ma'am, I was thinking about you earlier today, honestly, I was.  Could we talk?"  

"I suppose that we could, Josh, if it is really important to you.  I have no immediate engagements, per se.  There is a sidewalk bistro just up the street a bit where we could sit and chat, if you like."

"I would like that very much, Ms. Brandish.  Thank you!"  

They both found their seats, across from one another and exchanged pleasantries while perusing the beverage menus presented them.  

"What would you like, Ma'am? May I order for you?"

"Well, Josh, it is a little early for wine or spirits, but I may enjoy a cup with a spot of Bailey's to relax me a little.  And you?"

"I'll have the same, Ma'am"

"Josh, you may call me Meridith.  It might make you feel more comfortable."

"If I may, I would prefer to call you Mistress, if it doesn't offend you, Ma'am."

"Of course it doesn't offend me, but it is a bit forward, as you have not been in my charge for three years now.  I do appreciate the respect, however, and will overlook the impropriety this once, if you wish.  Now tell me, what is it that you wished to discuss, Joshua?"  

"Mistress, I realize now that the time I spent at the Academy under your authority was the greatest time in my life.  I miss the training and discipline that I received from you there."  

"If that be the case, you may continue.  Explain yourself, please."  

"What you taught me there above and beyond the academic curriculum was how much I needed the discipline that you provided me.  I greatly needed it, Mistress..... And I still do more than ever now!"

"Well, Josh, I must admit that you have caught me a little bit off guard with your remarks.  Don't you think that you are a little old for spankings now?  The canings or birchings I might understand, but...."  

"Mistress, may I speak freely with you?"

"Yes, Josh.  You have piqued my interest, I will grant you that.  You must tell me exactly what it is that you are seeking.  What is it that you want from me?  Have I made myself clear?"  

"Yes, Mistress.  I realized then and evenmoreso now that I needed much more severe punishment, much sterner methods."

"You seemed resistant to me then, Josh.  What precisely did you need?  Is this what you are seeking now?"

"Mistress, only your harshest canings or birchings over the block whetted my appetite, but it just wasn't enough then or now!"  

"Josh what are you trying to say?  Be frank with me.  You can tell me.  Did you need a scourging, or even a  bullwhipping on the bare back?"

"YES!!  Yes, Mistress!  That is exactly what I am trying to say!  I need to be whipped the way people used to be.  Real, severe, long-lasting punishment the way it was meant to be.  I am sorry if I have embarassed or offended you, Ma'am!"  

"Very well, then.  I appreciate your candor.  I must tell you that you are not alone in this world.  I will be frank with you, now, Josh.  If you will let me.  This is a very private and confidential conversation, and I expect it to remain that way, between you and I.  I am a very prominent woman in the community and I can make it very hard on you if you do not abide by my rules.  Afterall, you approached me, remember?  Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, Mistress.  We do.  You have my word."  

"Alright, then.  I must admit the greatest joy I have received in my years at Malmont was the severe discipline that I was able to administer to those that more than deserved it there.  Understand as I speak that whenever I caned or birched you to the blood, even to unconsciousness on occassion, it was sheer pleasure for me.  And yes, I greatly desired to go further, much further.  But of course, there are limitations in such an environment.  I could beat the boys much more severely than the girls there, of course, so it was in my best interest to keep you over the block whenever I could."

"Really, Mistress?  That is wonderful news!"  

"We briefly touched on the whip.  I have always had a fascination and keen interest in the whip, Josh.  The whip is a true God-given marvel.  It is a blessing that offers us a severe, unrelenting, extreme form of punishment that has unfortunately gone by the wayside in our modern culture.  Whips always intrigued me even from an early age.  Cat'o'nine tails, scourges, horsewhips, and most especially bullwhips excited me...To permanently scar and maim someone with the whip, or even the thrill of bullwhipping or scourging someone to the brink of death greatly appealed to me."

"But it was not until I began at Malmont that I fully developed my skills with whips and truly realized the magnitude of the insatiable urges that I had to severely whip people, though, Josh.  Am I embarassing you or shocking you?"

"No, never, Mistress.  Will you tell me more?"

"But of course.  While at Malmont, I met a Headmaster from a nearby all-boys school, Hargrove Intitute.  You know of it.  The most ill-behaved boys are often sent there.  The Headmaster there was Master Jonathan Martinet.  He was extremely severe with his boys.  He truly loved to hurt and injure them with punishment, even irreparably if possible, and would beat them excessively for hours with his severest senior canes."

"I visited the facility after taking over at Malmont and met the Headmaster.  He was a very masculine, powerful man.  I observed him caning a senior boy 400 bloody strokes while there.  He caned with such a merciless fervor.  It was awe-inspiring to me.  I saw myself in him.  It was a breathtaking specatacle!"

"I collected my composure after the beating and introduced myself to him.  I complimented him and divulged my love of administering the same.  He remarked that it wasn't enough, though.  He wished that he could do more to them, much more.  He said that there were boys that came back to see him after graduation that craved much more, too.  He offered to show me around the facility, and of course, I accepted his gracious offer without a second thought."  

"He took me into his private chambers, and showed me his arsenal.  He had an utterly fabulous array of implements and leather whips.  He told me that authentic bare back whipping was his true passion, especially with the long, braided, loud-cracking, leather bullwhips.  I nearly swooned as I divulged my love of the same.  Our souls touched, and he knew that I craved to learn.  We agreed to meet on a regular basis and for him to teach me the bullwhip, and  how to really whip a boy to shreds, as he stated it.  His credo was that bullwhips were exclusively made for the distinct purposes of punishing people far beyond all human endurance, to permanently scar and maim them for life, and to execute them by whipping them to death. 

"Incredible, Mistress!  Please go on!"  

"I was preparing to leave after the tour, and he asked if I really needed to go yet.  He said that he had a surprise for me, if I stayed.  I said that I should really get back, but acquiesced and agreed to stay a while longer."  

"We walked through a heavy metal door that he unbolted at the back of the most remote room in his chamber.  I found myself in a very large courtyard surrounded on four sides by tall ,sheer stone walls.  We walked to the far end of the stone paved enclosure to where a large structure stood.  It was a massive wooden Oak whipping post! There were indelible blood stains on the post, at its base, and on the surrounding flagstones.  From one side, a heavy metal-tipped scourge with 10 five-foot tails hung, and from the other a very long, tightly braided and coiled black leather bullwhip of perhaps 20 feet rested, as if a sleeping serpent in waiting.  I could visualize in my mind's eye the helpless, frantic cries, shrieks, and bloodcurdling screams of hapless, tortured souls from the past that had endured absolutely horrific whippings on this very spot!"  

"Unbelievable!...."  

"He asked if I wanted to witness it 'in action.'  I was reminded of how some of his former students return for 'advanced training.'  He left for a brief moment and returned with a boy that appeared to be in his mid-twenties.  The boy was commanded to remove his shirt at once and to march straight over to the whipping post!  I was in heaven!"  

"The Headmaster told me that I was about to observe what a real whipping was, what these boys really deserved.  I was dying to know how much...  My wish was soon granted!  The boy was stripped to the waist and inescapably secured to the whipping post."  

"Five hundred full-cracking lashes of the whip on the bare back, no mercy!  Boy, do you have something you wish to say to me?"

"Sir, please whip every inch of skin from my back to the bone.  I deserve it!  Please, no mercy, Sir!"   

"Mr. Martinet forced a leather bitgag into the boy's mouth and continued with the preliminaries." 

"Very well, boy.  You asked for it.  You'll receive every last stroke without quarter, the absolute whipping of your life!  I plan to make an example out of you, boy, for all of your school buddies to see.  You shall wear my scars for the remainder of your life!  Start praying!"  

"Master Martinet went inside for a moment and returned wearing a black, shortsleeved t-shirt.  He slipped a black leather glove on his right hand.  In his left hand he carried a heavy, black, coiled ten-foot leather bullwhip.  He cracked it in the air about ten times to warm up.  The reports were ear-spliiting.  He told the victim that each stroke would be no less than what he had just heard.  The boy just shivered.  I was beside myself!  A 500-lash bullwhipping was about to begin before my very eyes!"  

"The Headmaster approached me and handed me some smelling salts with the instruction to revive the boy every time that he fainted.  I observed his masculine physique.  His arms were incredibly muscular and very hairy with long black hair on each.  I absolutely adored men and women with very hairy arms, just like mine, I suppose."

"I have always admired your fabulous arms, Mistress!"  

"Why thank you, Josh!  You had ample opportunities to view them up close in all their splendour as I strapped you to the block for your many birchings to the blood.  My hairy arms once birched you 600 strokes for lying to me, remember?  Shall I continue now ?"

"He then stepped back, taking up his position, and commenced the whipping.  He was relentless and whipped with a fury that I admire to this day.  He drew his arm back high over his head and threw the lash with all of his might at the awaiting, defenseless back before him, snapping his wrist at the last instant as the whip cracked with a deafening report.  Each stroke indeed cracked like thunder and ripped into the unprotected bare back, breaking the skin and drawing blood. The boy's body convulsed and he violently tossed his head from side to side in mortal agony.  I mentally counted the whiplashes and was amazed that the boy remained conscious for over 180 lashes.  I then revived him with the salts and the bullwhipping continued non-stop.  The boy fainted two more times, but was warned that if he did not remain conscious for the remainder of the whipping, that he would receve 50 lashes to each nipple at the conclusion, as punishment.  It proved to be incentive enough, the boy endured the remainder to the very last lash." 

"The boy was left on the post until he regained his composure.  His back was totally emaciated and blood ran in streams down his legs.  It was so exciting!  Jonathan told me that he had bigger plans for the future one day, though, because he wasn't satisfied in being limited to merely permanently scarring boys' backs for life with the whip.  His sadistic needs were far greater, as were the reciprocal needs of many of his victims, that craved for him to go the distance with the whip on them.  Several had already requested it of him.  I totally concurred after witnessing the punishment and vowed that I would learn to wield the whip to the fullest degree.  And that I have done!" 

"By the way, when the boy crawled out of the courtyard under his own volition, after praising the Master for what he had received, he was ordered, 'Show your whipscarred back to your buddies and tell your 'sissy friends' where to come for the whippings of their lives.  Obey me, and get back here as soon as you can, and I'll give you a thousand next time, if you really want something to cry about!'  I knew that my calling was to return the same favor to some of my former students as well!" 

"Oh, Mistress!  I am dying for the same from you, please!!  What are your plans for the future?"

"Joshua, if you are truly serious, I feel that you must prove your sincerity to me.  I want you to be whipped by Master Martinet!  He is renowned as one of the world's premier whippers.  If you successfully endure a severe bullwhipping for punishment from him, I will agree to train you." 

"I will do as you ask, Mistress.  But please, can we get it over with soon?"

"As you wish, Joshua.  I'll get Jonathan on the phone immediately!" 

"We have a recruit.  Are you up for a bullwhipping?  Right now if you can.  It's a former student of mine.  We'll be right over!  I want to see if you can make the little boy cry and wet himself for me!  Yes, you can make him beg for his life, too! (giggle)"  

I was driven by Ms. Brandish to Hargrove Institute and escorted to the chambers of Mr. Martinet. 

"Is this the little girl you were telling me about, Meridith?  Sentence him, and let's get on with it!"

"Joshua, as your initiation into training under me, I hereby formally sentence you to be severely punished by being bullwhipped 300 lashes on the bare skin of your back.  There shall be no mercy.  I shall have Mr. Martinet whip you 200 lashes as severely as he is able with the bullwhip of his choice. If perchance you endure it to my satisfaction, I shall admiisiter the final 100 myself.  If not, Jonathan will be turned loose on you carte blanche to within an inch of your life, double-handed with two bullwhips!  I personally guarantee that he will permanently cripple you for your shortcomings!  This is what we musingly refer to as a 'whippling'!  I must admit, I hope that you fail!  I would just simply adore witnessing you whippled before my very eyes!  Let's begin!" 

"Meridith, I have decided I am going to use the 20-foot bullwhip on him.  The one hung on the post.  I'll  administer the first 200 strokes with it.  The longer whips are much more severe.  They strike harder and remove more flesh per stroke than their shorter cousins.  I truly wish that all new pledges at the Institute could be whipped on their very first day of the semester with this very whip!  A bullwhipping of 100 lashes on opening day would put a fourteen year-old in his place from the outset and notify him of what to expect for even the very slightest of miscues under me!  In much the same manner as boys were dealt with in ancient Sparta.  It would make my job so much simpler, minimum punishment: 100 lashes bare back, maximum: 1,000 lashes, no negotiation, no leniency!  A smudged shoe or an untrimmed fingernail, 100 strokes of the bullwhip at the post, backtalk or unauthorized horseplay, 1,000 at the post before the entire school!"

"Yes, Jonathan.  I couldn't agree more!  If that were the case at the Academy, Joshua would have received 30,000 lashes per month for four full years from me already!  He still deserves it!  Give him your best for me.  Break him!"

"This whip will break any man alive and have him whimpering and blubbering like a baby in minutes!  It is absolutely unendurable!   I need to break it in on him and reacquaint myself with its feel and stroke.  I can't express to you how much I love to bullwhip a boy's bare back to the bone!"

"Boy!  No matter your reaction to my whip, I am going to maim you for life with it on this very day!  Meridith tells me that you believe yourself to be a genuine whipping masochist.  You deserve to be whipped to death for that pretentious statement!  We soon shall all know how genuine you truly are.  The whip never lies, but it fetches the truth from the depths of the souls that it touches.  If you beg me for your life under the whip, I discount you as ingenuine, but if you beg to die at my hand, that is another story..."  

The boy was secured to the post as those who had walked the identical path before him.  Joshua now found himself in the very position of vulnerability that he had only dreamed of since his adolescence at the academy.  His arms were uplifted high overhead, and tightly bound.  His torso was pressed tightly against the massive, rough-hewn post.  And his bare feet were spread and shackled tightly to the sides of the post at the base.  All that he could do now was wait for the inevitable, as escape was certainly out of the question.  He bit down on his leather gag, to avoid choking and biting through his tongue and jaw when the whip finally struck home.

Jonathan was in his element, as he removed the coiled 20-foot whip from its perch beside the bound boy.  This would indeed be a whipping to remember!  He shook the whip out, snaking it to and fro, back and forth.  Oh, how he wished that this was happening in their new penal colony in Australia.  He so wished to give the boy the full treatment, perhaps a thousand or fifteen hundred lashes with the 20-footer, and then finish him off!  He stepped back a few paces and threw the whip in much the same manner as a flycasting rod and let it fully unfurl in the air, deftly flicking his wrist slightly at the last moment, with a resonant clean pop of the frayed cracker.  A few more increasingly more powerful throws were unleashed, as each crack reverberated, dynamically louder in intensity. A final lash was thrown with full force, and all in attendance realized the power and sheer lethal force residing in the whip as a tremendous crack echoed throughout the courtyard.  Jonathan was now fully prepared to whip the boy into oblivion.  

He turned and walked towards the boy, stopping briefly to stroke the white, unblemished skin on the victim's naked back.  "Gone forever!", he remarked.  He turned away from the boy once again and paced off the necessary distance for the stroke that only years of experience had made instinctive to him.  Immediately he turned back towards the target, raised the whip in the air and let it fly.  It sailed smoothly with increasing velocity and power, arcing directly between the shoulder blades of the miscreant in its path.  The whip struck home with terrible effect, splitting the flesh deeply as if a freshly-sharpened blade through melted butter.  The body lurched violently at the post, the head thrown back, as the recipient screamed silently at the top of his lungs.  The stroke was devastating, slicing the back diagonally from shoulders to opposite flank.  The whip was drawn back once more and sent diagonally again from the other direction.  The lash crossed the first stripe and opened a gaping wound towards the lower ribcage.  Blood now dripped from both initial wounds.  The Headmaster was just warming up.  He sent volleys of strokes with deadly accuracy and intent from opposing directions and angles. 

In virtually no time, tears streamed without interruption from one side and blood flowed freely from the other, as the whipping progressed and took its toll, compounding lash after lash on the helpless ragdoll that flopped uncontrollably about the immovable post to which it was secured.  The 20-foot whip continued to surgically slice flesh to the bone, with grace and precision as directed.  Joshua now sobbed without cessation as the tally surpassed fity, and incredibly, one hundred impossible strokes.  The boy knew that only an unrepenting algolagnist could willingly, happily administer or absorb such extreme torture, as both they were.  Agony and suffering were constantly being redefined in the boy's racing mind.  The whip was the only reality.  It wouldn't go away.  He couldn't escape it.  He was mad with pain, but curiously so, mad with desire for more and more of the same.  How could this be? Had he been whipped to  utter madness?  The whip sliced through body, mind, and soul.  It knew no bounds, as there were none.  He passed in and out of consciousness at the whip's behest.  Suddenly, the perpetual, eternal bullwhipping ceased.  Was he dead?  Had he somehow, impossibly, illogically, irrationally survived this?  Was it really over?  One thought superceded all others...  Do I want this to end?....  No!!  This is the beginning of the rest of my life...  Don't stop, please, I must have this!  Take me the distance...        

The gag was removed, and shortly thereafter, Joshua spoke.  "Take me to the very edge, both of you!  Please!  No limits... Whipple me for life, if you will!  It is my life's dream!" 

Meridith was taken aback by the request, but Jonathan was less surprised as he often received requests from his boys for such.  Many often begged to be whipped to death.  Jonathan knew that it was only a matter of time before he and Meridith could fulfill such wishes for as many as could ever desire it, inasmuch as they so desired to fulfill them.

"Let's tell him, Jonathan."

"Go ahead, I'm fine with it."

"Joshua, if you truly wish to be whippled for life, we will happily fullfil your request as you so desire.  I think it best that you know our plans for the future, plans for you, too.  As you will be incapacitated for weeks from your whippling, we will divulge this to you now.  As you know, we both have decided that we are very limited in today's society, here in the U.K. to realize our dreams.  Fittingly so, we have connections in Australia in the vast outback wilderness where we will have the ability to live our dreams to the fullest.  We soon plan to construct a penal colony there, as existed in the glorious past, in which there will be no limitations imposed upon us whatsoever.  One in which we can imprison, train, and execute boys as yourself with our whips without limit.  Imagine, Joshua, a paradise brimming over with whipplings and executions!  For years on end you can endure the savage whippings that you so crave, literally thousands and thousands of lashes at our very hands.  Oh, how I long to horribly cripple and maim you even further, to the fullest extent possible, with our whips!  We can even castrate and paralyze you with the whip if you, or we, so desire!  The possibilities are infinite!  Then, when the time is right, you will be formally executed by public bullwhipping in front of the entire Colony!  You may well be able to endure 2,000, 3,000, or even 5,000 lashes by then!  It may even take ten of us two days to whip you to death!  But rest assured that we are resolute and determined to whip the very life out of you!  We need your help to recruit as many like yourself as we can before we move.  We hope to keep a steady population of 300 to 500 there year-round, permanently."

"Bite down hard on your gag.  I promise we will deliver you to the very edge of death with a full-fledged whippling, as you have requested of us.  This will serve as just a sample of what lies in store for us all.  Goodbye for now, Joshua.  Enjoy!" 

"Jonathan, please teach me how to whip him to within one lash of death, as they did at Devil's Island.  I feel insatiable tonight, don't you?  Let's get a couple more of your best boys lined up for later. We can whip each one a thousand lashes apiece tonight.  We'll have to be in top shape for what lies ahead at the Colony."

"Yes, Meridith.  I plan to train my best boys to take 2,000 lashes every four to six weeks.  I really want to make them suffer inhumanly under our whips.   Maybe we can keep them alive for 50,000 lashes before we execute them.  We need to design more severe, extremely lethal whips, too, when we want to rapidly execute larger groups of boys, or for the insatiable ones with ultra-high endurance potential that otherwise are at times so difficult to whip to death.  Of course we could always rely on the steel-tipped scourge or the knout, if necessary.  I'll  be sure to also teach you how to totally skin a boy with a fifteen-foot bullwhip before he dies.  I am just dying to whip some boys to death, Meridith!  Just the mere thought is consuming me!  Australia will be the perfect setting.  There are many whipcracking fanatics there, and the best whips in the world are made there, too.  We will be less conspicuous there, as we will go through one hundred or more whips per year.  We will keep the plaiters and whipmakers busy!"

"Jonathan, talk to your partner.  Let's get some boys together and go visit the property.  When is the groundbreaking ceremony?  Have some whipping posts set up in the outback.  We can bind them out in the sun for a day or so, then whip them all to death on their sunburned backs.  This is the stuff that dreams are made of!"   

"Great minds think alike, Meridith!  I'll check into it.  We do need to kick-off the project on the right foot, so to speak.  I have a group of graduates from the Intitute that I have been regularly whipping at the post for some time, now.   They each have literally begged for me to whip them to death.  The time may be nigh to call in their debts!  A little vacation to the outback may do them, and us, a world of good!"   

"Now, back to the business at hand.  Boy, the time has come to deliver you to 'the Promised Land'!  Heaven can wait!  I think that another 300 with the 20-foot bullwhip should remove the remainder of skin from the tops of your shoulders to the waist.  A full skinning.  Then, if you are still alive, I'll throw 200 really deep, shredding strokes at the exposed flesh and muscle to expose every single rib on your back.  I won't spare your buttocks, either.  You will undoubtedly have some cracked ribs to contend with, as well.  It is an inevitable side effect of a permanent whippling.  That will make an even 800 lashes and should prove a good precursor for your future with us.  You won't see God's face tonight, but I promise I'll take you to the very depths of hell!"     


End


Back to the top


   

 

Home

Back to the Stories Page

The Story Of T

Arrival At The Institute

The Dominafuhrer

The New Recruit

The Sacred Feminine

The Sacred Feminine

Julia

An Introduction

VO Stories

Jenny
Miss Malcahy's Detention
Nine and a Half Hours

The Weight Loss
Programme

I Sign A Contract

The Convict

The Convict/My Prison Folder

Stories

65
A Caning By Miss Spiteful
A Visit To Greenwich
At My Lady's Pleasure
Ball Shackle Story
Charles
George
I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop
Judicial Bastinado
Kevin's Poem
Kim
Long Weekend
Long Weekend Conclusion
My Visit
Penitence
Plimsolls
Robin's Electrical Torture
Shoeshine Boy
Slave To The Cane
The Basement
The Colony
The Escape Artist
The Huntress Caning
The Language School
The Worm's View
Webb Encounters
Z

The Bossy Bank Women

Episode 1 - A Judicial Punishment

The Valkyrie

Episode 1

Norseland

The Vision
The Agreement
First Blood

EXIT

EXIT THIS SITE