BUSTED! Ch. 06

The Punisher, a tall muscular man with thick brown shoulder-length hair carrying a coiled whip came out of a different door than the one they'd used. It was on the other side of the parking lot and he had to stride the length of it to take up his post.

His appearance brought first a hush and then a roar of approval from the crowd.

He was wearing a leather vest, loose fitting trousers and well-polished brown boots. Hand him a cutlass and he wouldn't look out of place on a pirate ship.

He'd been given the option of wearing a mask but knew an opportunity for stardom when he saw it. Every one of these punishment sessions had attracted bigger and bigger crowds and today, for the first time, there was a TV crew. Not just a news crew but what looked like a team set up to turn this into a commercial attraction.

By this evening, his face, as well as those of all the people he was about to punish, would be shared across the world on countless websites.

The six people being punished had signed away their rights when they signed their plea agreements though none had read the fine print or been warned by their attorneys.

The Punisher smiled and used the coiled leather to wave to the crowds, evoking yet another roar of approval.

His first target was Marta, the women who'd let her son and his friends drink alcohol. If she was still dressed she'd have looked like a typical PTA mom but naked on tiptoe she became very much a MILF for every male and more than a few of the females in the crowd.

She saw him take a position behind her out of the corner of her eye and took a moment to try and center herself, to take deep breaths and ready herself for what was about to happen. Smiling to herself she thought, she'd given birth to a 10 pound 6 ounce boy with a huge head! How bad could this...

And suddenly her back exploded in a paroxysm of pain that drove the oxygen from her lungs and brought a huge roar of approval from the crowd. 'Fucking monsters,' she thought right before a second lash crossed the other, creating a scarlet St Andrew's cross on her skin.

The Punisher was methodical and very skilled with the 5 foot braided leather. His blows crossed each other and were parallel but not on top in a way that would certainly have drawn blood. And he was not trying to torture his target so his lashes came with a clear cadence, giving the bound woman time to prepare for the next one.

And before she was aware of it, her week's whipping was over.

Only when he moved on to the next pole and sliced a stripe across the fair-skinned shoulder blades of young Cade, did she know that no more were coming that day.

The slender young man, completely taken by surprise, screamed, "FUCK!"

That brought forth a huge laugh from the crowd and applause for the Punisher.

His whole body trembled as he tried to get ready for the next one. To his left, his pretty naked girlfriend tried to look encouraging and mouthed the words, "I love you..."

His half-hearted smile back was short-lived as a second stripe was laid upon his firm young ass. Joni wanted to turn away but like everyone else, was captivated by the events unfolding around them.

When his third strip landed just below the curve of his butt, she winced. She knew just how sensitive that spot was. But she noticed that the erection her nudity had evoked when she was attached to her post had not only not been driven away by the pain, it seemed harder and thicker.

She purposefully looked down at his hard-on so he could see the direction of her stare and openly licked her lips.

The brute with the whip caught the whole thing. He had whipped an uncounted number of people in his life and career and seen every possible reaction. Seeing men get hard and women get wet was an almost everyday occurrence for him and seeing the lad rubbing his shaft against the pole was typical.

What set this aside was the reaction of the young woman next to his target. Her olive skin blushed and her perky nipples became little brown bullets. He smiled, thinking of the interesting week these young lovers had ahead of them. He'd be looking forward to any changes in their dynamics when they returned in a week.

Looking more at his girlfriend than him, he carefully laid another stripe just above the second. Each one of the remaining seven was spaced just far enough apart to make it tolerable for the young man and he got through it without crying.

Joni caught the Punisher's eyes for a second and gave him a small smile. She had seen how he had spared her young man and was grateful.

His skin wore a sheen of sweat and meeting her gaze, he slipped off his leather vest and tossed it aside. His torso was well-developed but not obscenely muscular. His act brought a round very enthusiastic cheers from the women in the crowd and he turned and waved with the whip in his hand.

Stepping to the place behind her, now in the sightline of her boyfriend, he watched the girl closely and when she relaxed her clenched muscles, he struck.

Her first lash was right across the outermost curve of her very fair-skinned ass and though it made every muscle in her body stiffen she did not cry out.

This brought a cheer from the assembled multitudes but it had a different tone than those previous ones. It seemed appreciative somehow.

Only two people knew that Cade was now openly rubbing the underside of the head of his penis against the polished wood. One held the whip and the other was thinking about how nice it would feel inside her the next day.

By her third stripe, Joni had become more than a little damp. The Punisher didn't miss this and smiled as he laid the fourth right at the top of her thighs leaving a dark red line and forcing a grunt from deep inside her. The fifth, sixth, and seventh were just hard enough to leave a vivid mark. The Punisher took his job seriously but had plenty of leeway in how he chose to conduct it. He enjoyed the blatant arousal of the sexy young couple and made sure the lashes were spread out and though neither would want to be the one laying on their back, they'd at least be able to fuck from behind.

Joni had made several attempt at getting her mons to touch the pole but that would only have been possible by wrapping her thighs around it and her ankle cuffs made that impossible. It was actually a good thing, if she'd succeeded she'd have had a couple more sessions here for such an outrageous exhibition.

The final three were across her upper back and shoulder blades.

She had lost count and only when they stopped did she realize the week's travail was over. She slumped as much as the cuffs would let her and turned to look at her lover. His face was red and he was breathing hard and she knew he was close to doing something really stupid.

"PSST!" she uttered, trying desperately to get his attention. It was only just before he was about to erupt that he glanced over and saw her scowling face shaking an emphatic "NO!" that he caught himself and stopped.

The Punisher smiled at the realization of which one was really in control there.

Next was the one prisoner he'd really been looking forward to. The Punisher was a former police officer but an injury had made that career end prematurely, a punch that had knocked him to the ground where he'd struck his head on a kerb giving him a concussion whose long term effects took him off of active duty. It was in a different jurisdiction on the other side of the country and though he had his disability pension that was more than enough to live on, he missed the action. He missed bringing criminals to justice.

When he'd first seen the ad online he had assumed it was as a prison corrections officer but spotted the much higher salary being offered and thought it was too good an opportunity to not look into.

The interview process was rather long and involved several psychological profiles and interrogations but in the end the position was revealed and he eagerly accepted it.

The new Judicial Corporal Punishment laws had only gone into effect six months before and this was only the Punisher's second set of prisoners. At the first set, in March, he'd worn the mask he was offered but by the third victim it had become hot and uncomfortable so he'd taken it off. The mostly feminine voices of approval made him realize that he could turn this into more than just a job.

In the three months since then he'd been inundated with fan mail, many including offers of marriage and very explicit photos of the women who'd sent them. Often those were of the women in bondage.

He had never thought of himself as handsome and his relationships with women were often inhibited by his profession.

Most of the fan mail he put through a shredder, saving a few for future wanking fodder. But he saw his chance for stardom and went for it. He'd even taken his "stage name" from his fans. More than a few were simply addressed to "The Punisher, c/o Hall of Justice" and when he was asked on a morning talk show if he had a title, he just said, "They call me the Punisher."

A week later he had an agent.

Most of the people he whipped, like the first three he'd just finished with, were non-violent offenders. Many people who he'd have let off with a warning when still in uniform. But the new laws had removed many of those options for police officers and so they ended up here as targets for his skills with the whip.

He had nothing against them and did his best to administer their punishments in an even-handed way.

But his next prisoner, Thomas Brennan, had punched a fellow officer. Sure, he'd been drunk, but so had the asshole who'd punched him and ended his career as a police officer.

Even with the kind of blows he'd administered to the others, there would have been blood drawn before he reached fifty. And he felt no urge to lay off a single one.

He tested his distance by snapping the tail first on one side of his head and then on the other, smiling as the guy flinched and clenched his muscles at the deafening crack of both and paused with the bullwhip over his shoulder until the moment he saw his muscles relax and brought it down exactly between his shoulder blades.

His scream was as much a squeal as yell. More animal-like than that of a human. And before its echo faded from the walls around them, two more had been lain on either side of it,

Those that could see were duly impressed by his skill. None of them overlapped, which would have instantly drawn blood.

The crowd was a rather bloodthirsty lot and roared their approval with each blow. The next three were parallel stripes from his left shoulder down to just below his ribs on the right and were immediately followed by three more from his right shoulder down to his left side.

Unable to vocalize the pain he was feeling, he just shook and moaned as each was added.

The eighth and ninth were the first to break the skin at the point where the nine lines intersected.

It was only a couple of drops of blood but the crowd went wild.

He paused for a moment to savor his handiwork before lashing him three times across his muscular buttocks three times from left to right and immediately after from right to left, setting them seemingly on fire.

His sobbing was more physical than audible as he became absorbed by the pain.

The Punisher caught his breath for a moment and turned and looked over his bloodthirsty audience. The number of women who made openly suggestive gestures towards him made him smile and he thought of the several pieces of fan mail he'd saved, wondering if any were there watching him now.

Turning back to his task he next applied five to the back of each leg, three on the thighs and two on the calves. The latter drawing a long keening groan and then silence. The gym rat had passed out.

He commented on that to the matron and she summoned a helper who splashed a bucket of cold water over the man, immediately bringing him around. The crowd hailed the act and cheered.

Brennan had become lost in a cloud of red pain. He no longer saw a future or the past that had brought him here. He was completely in the moment. Endorphins had kicked in but they had been shoved aside by the unending pain. There was no escape and he had long lost count.

The Punisher gave him a moment before returning to his back, adding vertical stripes one after another until his skin was a maze of bleeding lines. After fifteen more, he again passed out and needed reviving.

"That's forty," the matron told him.

Nodding, the Punisher gestured with his finger and a pair of assistants came and turned his back to the pole for the final ten.

Seeing his face removed much of the rage the whipmaster had started out with. The man was clearly broken.

But while no longer very angry, he was still intending to make him suffer.

He started out with three across his belly that made the target whimper. These were followed by two on the inside of each thigh, the third of which caught the edge of his scrotum, making him grunt.

For the crowning last three, he targeted the man's nipples and the tip of his semi-erect cock, the latter bringing forth a squeal before he again slumped.

He was once again revived with the bucket of water to the chant of the crowd, "PUN-ISH-ER! PUN-ISH-ER! PUNI-ISH-ER!"

Opening his eyes, Tom Brennan watched through his tear-blurred lenses as the man waved and acknowledged his fans, both the assembled crowd and the millions watching on broadcast TV and it gradually dawned on him that the first part of the day's travails had ended.

The last two, who had grown moist savoring the sight of the first three prisoners' whippings, had gone completely dry by watching the last person be beaten and broken by the whip.

The Punisher summoned one of the water carriers over near he was standing next to Raven and used a ladle as a cup and to splash some over his sweat-glistened torso.

He'd seen the terror of the two and with his back to them, said softly, "If you haven't punched a cop, you have nothing to worry about."

He made a move as if to be making sure Raven's wrist cuffs were secure and whispered, "Fast or slow?"

Raven's sigh was heard by her bound neighbor who was also waiting her turn and she found it a bit of a relief.

"Fast, please," Raven whispered, eager to just get it done with.

He nodded before stepping away and taking up a position behind and slightly to her left. He paused to admire his target's beautiful smooth skin and genuinely regretted what he was now going to do to it.

His first target was the lush curve of her firm muscular ass. He'd decided that that was the best place to start and end her 20 lashes.

The blow was worse and yet somehow better than the statuesque brunette had been expecting. In her limited BDSM experience with clients, none had been anywhere near has hard. And yet, compared to what she'd just witnessed happening to the man next to her, was nothing she couldn't deal with.

Four more found the same target, forming five almost perfectly parallel lines. The pain brought Raven straight into the moment. No more conjecturing about what had happened or would happen next. She wasn't even thinking about the next one before it crossed her shoulder blades.

The next few stripes matched it a few inches apart as they were methodically applied going down her back.

She gritted her teeth, determined to not show weakness, but couldn't stop a single tear running down her cheek.

At the tenth, the Punisher went to the bucket for another drink of water and whispered, "Half way. You're doing great."

The audible compassion in his voice made something in the center of the professional sex worker's body get warmer and she smiled at him.

Carole watched their interaction but wasn't close enough to hear but was greatly relieved when Raven turned towards her and winked.

The crowd still cheered, their bloodlust not having been sated, with every blow. But for the two people involved in the punishment it became just white noise.

The Punisher was trying to avoid crossing the stripes and breaking the skin but even for such a tall body there was a limited space. He went next to the back of her thighs, adding five that crossed both.

It is a very sensitive area and the second strike there made her moan. A sound that to the Punisher's ears was more than a little arousing.

Raven had completely surrendered to it and had once again become damp with excitement.

The two existed in a cocoon that blocked out everything else. For each of the last five, all of which crossed one or more previous one, she whispered, "Thank you, Sir."

Only the man with the whip could hear and when he again went for a ladle-full of water, he answered, "Good girl."

Two words that made her loins churn and her pussy very wet.