The Referendum

The two men had been arrested under new laws that had been implemented under the recently passed legislation that had been introduced by the all female parliament after the narrow victory of the Ausitanian Democratic Women’s Party in the recent election. They found themselves about to be charged at the notorious Prochody jail under the newly enacted Sexual Harassment Act.

Monica Novotny slide open the side door of the black Mercedes police van. Inside, huddled together inside the steel cage the two men were dishevelled and still in a semi drunken state. They had been arrested at the U Kalicha bar in the city centre and Veronika Tomachek, Monica’s partner on the van certainly didn’t take any nonsense.

At the first sign of the slightest resistance from one of the men the stun gun was drawn from the holster on the leather belt around Her waist. Monica saw the look of sheer panic on the man’s faces as Veronika raised the gun to chest level and squeezed the trigger. The two steel wires snaked towards him, stricking him just above the wait, hitting the soft, vulnerable flesh of his stomach and delivering the high voltage shock. It’s effect was instant, paralysing his nerves and putting him down on the floor of the bar.

He lay there for several seconds, his neutralised muscles twitching helplessly, a dribble of foam flecking his lips. Silence descended on the bar as the band of revealers looked on. His petrified friend surrendered himself to the two black clad female officers allowing Monika to lock him into the one piece steel neck and wrist cuff that shackled his arms helpedlessly behind his back.

Once the taught man was similarly restrained they were driven out of the city centre directly to Prochody, the two hundred year old grey, forbidding castle that served as the capital’s main jail. Since the shock referendum result had given victory to the ADWP the long winded process of booking prisoners in sending them for trial had been considered streamlined. All that was required now was for the arresting officers to sign a brief statement outlining the details of their offices under the new legislation. In this manner both Petr Horinek and Anton Janacek had their fourteen day custodial sentences confirmed. There was no longer any appeal process and even their relatives were not informed.

In addition to this the officers were allowed, maybe even encouraged, to provide what was euphemistically referred to as “re-education”. This granted them a considerable amount of leeway. The lucky prisoners were simply forgotten and while away their fourteen day sentence in one of the bare, uncomfortable cells. A simple fold down board provided a basic bed, a coarse grey blanket their only comfort. Their food was an unappetising grey mess of porridge dished out twice a day by the prison kitchen.

Anton Janacek however was not to fall into this lucky category. Veronika Tomasek had suffered abuse from two previous partners as well as during a short failed marriage. As such she was not well distributed towards the more wayward male members of society. She had entered somewhat enthusiastically into the spirit of post referendum Ausitania, the tiny landlocked Central European state that was not quite European, not quite Balkan, occupying just a few hundred square kilometres of mainly forested gently rolling countryside that made it’s living largely from tourism and the recently expanded wine industry that utilized the southern uplands that possessed a climate ideal for the purpose.

The state run wine industry was something of an overnight success story. This had largely been due to the drastic reduction in labour costs due to the recently introduced policy of using prisoners in the vineyards. Seven days a week and for ten hours a day working parties toileted in the fields. They performed backbreaking but largely unskilled tasks under the supervision of female guards who had been trained to rule with a rod of iron.Any prisoner stepping out of line quickly found himself harshly dealt with by one of the robust young women overseass. Each vineyard contained a timber whipping frame kept in a prominent position, partly for deterrent effect. The heavy leather straps that hung from the sturdy frame hung loose waiting to bind the limbs of any miscreant who might step out of line. Once bound the supervisor, easily recognized by her uniform of skin tight black leather jeans and lacened knee boots would arrive to administrator a thrashing with her rattan cane. The sound of the beaten man’s cries reverberated around the vineyard as a warning to others. There were no rules, it was just a matter of luck if you got the minimum punishment or fell into the hands of a sadist.

It was the produce of the vineyards that was responsible for most of the trouble at the U Kalicha. The crisp white wine produced by the state vineyards sold in large quantities in the stone carafes for a few Ausitanian shillings for a fulllitre, one of which was enough to put the average man under the table, or possibly like the two latest prisoners on it, where they had exposed themselves to a party of foreign female tourists.

The two women were filling in their reports on the two arrested men. “Horinek is just a fool” observed Monika. Her partner nodded her agreement.

“Yes, but did you hear that foul mouthed sexist rant from Janacek when we took him out of the van. I have a good mind to up the charge from drunkenness to disrespecting an officer.”

Monika smiled as she ticked the box on the form. Increasing the sentence to ninety days was now the simple matter of the stroke of a pen. “Three months in the vineyard for Mister J, do you want to tell him?”

A strangely look crossed Veronika’s face. ” I will let him sleep it off and tell him in the morning. It will be something to look forward to.”

Anton Janacek was in no better mood once sober. “Put your wrists behind you and through the hatch inthe cell door”. When he failed to respond to her curt order Veronika merely turned away. “Well it’s no concern of mine, you can stay there until tomorrow without food or water. I will instruct the guard accordingly.” She walked away.

The following morning Janacek was more compliant. Veronika locked on the transport managers and connected them to the wait chain before leading him out to the prison van for the journey to the vineyard. “So this is what it has come to in Ausitania, good men locked up by bitches”. His better mood was evined short lived.

Veronika’s leather gloved fist caught him across the face with a singing slap as simply her booted knee found it’s mark between his legs. His face contorted as she felt his soft flesh crushed and bruised by the move that caught him totally by Surprise. He sagged to his knees as her fist caught him square in the face, the full horror of the situation came home to him, he was being beaten up by a woman.

Even theStupid Janacek knew when he was beating. Veronika Tomacek now stood with her police issue boot on his neck. He looked up the long laced shaft at her beautiful but stern face regarding him. Somehow it seemed even worse that she wasn’t some ugly dyke but the kind of woman that he might have found himself hitting on in different circumstances. Her ebony eyes looked down on him with utter contempt.

State Vineyard number 6 was in an idyllic position. The gently rolling hills fell away to the border with Slovenia to the south. In the other direction lay the borders of Austria and Hungary. It was classic wine growing country and indeed featured in many of the brochures of the Ausitanian Tourist Board.

The referendum had attracted a lot of publicity both at home and abroad. Forty two Thousand electrons had been eligible to vote and when the votes were counted the ADWP had a majority of only one per cent for the draconian legislation. And it was this legislation that saw Anton Janacek drive twenty kilometres to the vineyard where he now found himself, chained and shackled, at the booted feet of Arianne Voric.

Sometimes there is a disparity between the outward perception of a person and the true nature of their personality. Arianne Voric, a slim, athletic redhead in her forties was softly spoken and possessed a considerable amount of charm. As well as being in charge if discipline in this vineyard her authority stretched to all the similar ones spread across Ausitania. Her zero tolerance policy was credited with maintaining the smooth running of the operation. Each week she would travel to each vineyard to personally oversee any punishments and in some cases to carry them out herself. It was this part of the job that she enjoyed the most. By the time Arianne arrived the prisoner was usually broken down by having heard tales of punishments that she had carried out. They were often aware that once she got into her stride prisoners were lucky to get away with only the strokes that they had been allocated.

Arianne watched from her office window as the prison van arrived from Prochody. She knew both officers from their previous dealings.”Bring coffee for three.” She snapped to her orderly. The man returned with a tray and set it down on her desk before the three women.

“So you consider him a case that may require special attention then?” Veronika looked up from her coffee at Arianne’s question.

“In my opinion he is a man of the very worst kind. He has totally failed to accept the values ​​of the new Ausitania. He has a bad attitude and requires total re education.”

Arianne smiled. She stood up and walked across to where her antique sjambok hung from a hook on the office wall. “Meet his new teacher.” She flexed the leather rhino hide whip between outstretched hands. In her mind’s eye she saw the pristine, unmarked pale skin of her male victim as he awaited his fate, spread out across the punishment frame, his limbs encircleded by the heavy leather straps. She could almost smell his fear already, and it excited her like nothing else. She handed the sjambok to Veronika who studied it briefly before handing it back.

“I can imagine the effect that would have on a man.”

Arianne smiled . “I’m not entirely sure that you can. Look I have a twenty stroke punishment scheduled for three o clock. What I suggest is that you stay for lunch then we give your prisoner a front seat view of what he is in for.”

The small courtyard behind the supervisor’s office fell into shade early in the afternoon. When the three women arrived the punishment frame was already set up in reading for the whipping. Monika had buckled a leather collar around Janacek’s bull neck and she drew him along behind her as Veronika looked at him with disdain. “On your knees here!” She positioned him just a couple of metres from the frame where he would inevitably make eye contact with the victim as the sentence was carried out.

The two female guards had bound the man’s wrists tightly to the steel ring at the apex of the frame using a leather strap and were now strapping his ankles and tights to the uprights. Once satisfied that he was tightly bound and secure they stood back. He was totally naked the curve of his buttocks projecting outwards to form a perfect target for Arianne’s sjambok. A heavy leather belt about his waist served to prevent any possibility of kidney damage.

A carafe of wine had been brought out and the two visitors each had glasses. Arianne Voric sipped only water. Her experience told her that a full blooded whipping was something to be enjoyed stone cold sober. Arianne approached him. She pulled on a pair of black leather gloves and proceeded to reach between his legs, squeezing his testicles until he squealed. His cock was completely flaccid, his breath coming in short gasps as the fear of what was about to happen enveloped him. She ran a gloved finger along his spine feelingHis body tremble as the delicious thrill of power now surged through her. She felt the familiar dampness caused by her feminine juices as the patch began to form at her crotch. Whatever punishment she decided to hand out this man would have to take. No amount of pleading would alter that now, not even by a single stroke.

“Gag the prisoner.” She said to one of the guards. She waited as the woman slipped the straws of a leather head harness over his head and buckled it up tight so that the hard rubber ball filled his mouth to stop him from crying out. He tried to shake his head to prevent her from fitting it but his efforts came to nothing and he was soon tightly gagged.

Weighing the heavy rhino skin sjambok in her gloved hands Arianne took up a position standing at right angles to the frame adjusting her feet to give her the stability she needed to swing the whip correctly and give her maximum impact . The sjambok was semi rigid but had a degree of flex in it’s shaft, whichshe demonstrated by bending It and then allowing it to spring back. It was slightly under a metre in length and as thick as a man’s finger. Arianne took a pace forward and placed the tip of the sjambok on the man’s right buttock just above the cream where it joined his thigh. An expected silence fell as she tapped the whip a couple of times, getting her range, then raised it high above her right shoulder.

The silence was Eventually broken by the sound of the whip descending, cutting the air with a rising whistle until it made contact with the bound man’s flesh with a resounding thwaaaack. He didn’t react for a fraction of a second then the pain suddenly registered in his brain. A scream was stifled deep within his throat by the ball gag and his body fought desperately against his bonds, frantically trying to escape their grip. The two policewomen, completely inexperienced with these procedures watched in awe as a horizontal line appeared across his buttocks, marking the line ofthe sjambok impact. It darkened quickly from dark red to purple as the blood beneath found it’s way up to the heavily bruised surface of the skin. He had barely ceased his struggles before Arianne delivered a second stroke, her lithe body displaying a beautiful, almost artistic symmetry. The light danced in a myriad mobile pools on the skin tight black leather of her uniform and the glaiming shafts of her lacened knee boots.

She was into a rhythm now, the strokes falling in regular intervals on the body of her bound victim. By the sixth stroke the skin of his buttocks began to give way under this relentless assault, tiny crisis rivulets began to flow from the line of the repeated impact. His body bucked repeatedly against the struggle leather straps that held him tightly to the punishment frame and a deep moan escaped with each stroke but the gag did it’s job well, the sound of his cries merely mood music to the punishment scene that both women were now enjoying immensely.

Arianne took a break at twelve strokes and closely examined the effects before picking up her whip again to complete the punishment. Every fifteen seconds or so the sjambok descended in an arc reminiscent of a golfer’s swing before making contact with the bound prisoner’s buttons. By the time Arianne laid down her whip he hung loosely in his straps, apparently having lost consciousness. Where the curve of his buttocks had been neighbor they now looked more like raw steak displayed on a butcher ‘s slab, his fresh ploughed by the repeated impacts. Arianne inspected the sjambok before calling over her orderly. “He knows how to clean in properly. It’s important we maintain standards of hygiene. We don’t want our prisoners to suffer do we?”

The women all laughed at her joke. Arianne turned to Janacek. He was in a state of shock after having watched the whipping of the prisoner. ” So you would like this man to receive re education would you?” She addressed the question to the two officer. They confirmed that this was their intention. “Oh I do so enjoy the training of one who doesn’t accept the new order, it really is wonderful to have a challenge.” Arianne enjoyed.

She grabbed Janack by his hair and roughly pushed him sideways so that he fell on his side. He lay on the grass unable to right himself due to the fact that his manacled wrists were attached to the wait chain, he looked like a stranded beetle as he struggled in vain.

As they walked back to her office Arianne expanded on this theme. “If only these resistors had the intelligence to realize that by refusing to accept their place they make our lives so much better with their stubbornness. I enjoy nothing more than a regime of strict discipline that gives me the opportunity to punish them regularly, it is so much more rewarding when they do crack. If you come back in a month I can guarantee that I will have your man on his knees kissing my boots every time I walk in.”