Katrina's Taming

KATRINA'S TAMING (by Eve Adorer)

Chapter 16 – The Verdict

My two girlwarden escorts had been sent for and now came into the torture chamber to take me from there back into the court.

The kinder of the two took one look at my breasts and gasped out: "Oh you poor luv, what have they done to you?"

Nonetheless she helped in the putting over my head and lovely slim arms, of my prison dress, so that I must endure the pain of having my terribly whipped nipples rub on its coarse crude rough sackcloth. And it was she who returned the girlacles to cuff my wrists behind me once more.

The senior torturerette, gave this girlwarden's cynical colleague, a signed paper for the judges, and I was once more girl-wiggle-walking barefoot, with my natural leggy undulating-bum-hemisphere gait, so delightful and delicious to the eye of all who appreciate girl, back to the court.

Once more I must enter the court on my own, and once more I girl-wiggle-walked down the centre aisle, to long-lovely-leggily, bountiful-bum-flashingly, climb the steps to the prisoner's dock and slot my feet in the stirrups, so as to once again be forced permanently onto the very tip of the tiptoes of my incredibly beautiful legs.

The dock began rotating again, as I stood with my girlacled hands resting on my gorgeous bum, my head held hard down humbly, wearing only my rough and dirty prison dress, emblazoned front and back with the big bold label: "Very Naughty Girl 36D2437-001".

The chief of the three judges gave a signal, and the senior of the two girlwardens came up to the stand, and walked around it crabwise, following the motion of its slow rotation, as she unlocked the girlacles, and took one half of them off my wrists.

"36D2437-001 will lift her prison dress clear of her upper body so that the court and the public can see that justice has been fully carried out", ordered the same judge.

I was aware from the warm trickle on my right under-breast, and my belly, that the rubbing of my prison dress had caused my right nipple to start bleeding once more. I was not aware of the incredible extent of the violent bruising that had come out all over my lovely breasts, and it was this wickedly livid bruising, as much as my bleeding nipples, for both bled again now as I caught my left one with the coarse dress, that caused the public to gasp, as I dutifully lifted my dress hem up over my head, and held it there, thus hiding my head within the inside-out garment, to show my brutalised breasts, as I slowly rotated on display.

A despairing cry of: "Oh Katrina!" came clearly from poor young Norna in the public gallery.

I was ordered to pull my dress back down, and it was instructed that my girlacles be clipped around both of my wrists behind me again. And so I stood tiptoed tortured and trembling terribly for the verdict of the judges, who had been given the report of my tormentors, and were talking among themselves.

The lead judge cleared her voice.

The court fell silent.

I held back my tears of trembling fear.

"36D2437-001, it is the decision of this court to accept your plea of 'guilty'. Even so, it remains an established fact that, according to the law, you have been a very naughty girl, and should have been found 'very-guilty'. However, you have bravely withstood your testing persuasion, and we also acknowledge that yours is a first time offence." The judge pronounced, slowly, and clearly, to the totally hushed assembly.

"However once more", the judge continued, "The increasing prevalence of naughty girls in today's society is something we judges would be totally failing in our duty were we not to clamp down upon severely. You may only have stolen a small bottle of scent, or nail paint, or whatever, but that very act has already cost the totally innocent young shop-girl you tricked into an unguarded moment, her job. Indeed the job and career prospects she has been dismissed from were the job and career she was hoping to take up fully when she finally leaves school in the summer."

"36D2437-001, you are approaching twenty-seven years of age. You are a fully grown and very beautiful girl. Highly intelligent and extremely well educated as you are, you are certainly old enough, intelligent enough, and educated enough, to know better than to be naughty. So, even though we accept that you can, this time, get away with a mere 'guilty' plea, this court must set the example that you as an older girl should have set, and this court must save you from a second offence."

"36D2437-001, it is my unpleasant but necessary duty to sentence you to one-hour on the spike, with the additional and exceptional, but wholly necessary adjunct, that you be whipped to oblige you to take, and until you take, the spike fully within you, and therefrom taste the full fruit of your having been a very naughty girl."

"36D2437-001, have you anything to say?"

I stutter-stage-whispered in my fear and horror: "…..My:…. My most revered…… My most revered and highly honoured ladies, I humbly trust I ….I …that I ….that I, ….that I may….. ….that I may: that I may, t'take my punishment: t'take….t'take my punishment like a g'….like a girl."

……………………

The second act of legislation under which I had been found guilty, the Societal Behaviour - Correctional Guidance of Wayward Girls (Whipping) Act 2023, laid down that naughty girls would be whipped in public, so that justice could be seen to be done and to act as a warning to other girls about their behaviour.

I therefore knew, as I still rotated on display in the prisoner's dock, that I would very shortly be stripped totally naked and forced to go out onto the raised platform where, in this particular part of London, the naughty girls where whipped, and the very naughty girls spiked.

Furthermore, I knew that my public whipping would be either live on national television and / or at least filmed for the weekly Saturday night entertainment on the main state station. This TV station had bought the sole rights to these events, and now had a Saturday night show that had taken almost all the audience for its main rival's, Girls'-Soccer highlights programme.

Whippings had been rare despite the Societal Behaviour - Correctional Guidance of Wayward Girls (Whipping) Act 2023 allowing them once again. So this channel felt obliged to show the same poor girls being flogged, and even to hold contests to decide, from some slow motion whip strokes and their facial reactions, which of five or so stokes went with which pained facial expression, and which combination of lash and face was the "stroke of the month".

My rotating stand was stopped and the two girlwardens took me down, and walked me out of the court, back to the torture chamber, where I had already been whipped so unmercifully. The platform on which I would very shortly be publicly displayed was beyond doors at one end of the torture chamber.

Because of the use to which it was put, the torture chamber was, of course, soundproofed, so that the screams of the naughty girls undergoing persuasion, only echoed back off the walls. I could not therefore hear the all-female, advance ticket-only crowd, which had gathered at the word that there was going to be a whipping.

Nor, therefore, was I aware that bets were being taken on how long I would survive before fainting under the pain of the whip. Nor either, could I hear the voice of Jemima ******, who was the acknowledged expert on the punishment of naughty girls, knowing the punishments handed out over the years, and all the complex of statistics, so that she had become the commentator of choice during the live action before the gathered public, and the subsequent cut down TV film and highlights.

Jemima was performing even now, outside, where the crowd were waiting for me. She was the mistress of the inane comment. The comediennes, who could imitate her soprano upper-crust voice so easily, regularly used a phrase she had never in fact uttered, but which seemed to sum up her bland inconsequential contribution to the events, suggesting that during a whipping she would say to the onlooking audience, who could all very well see for themselves on the surrounding magnifying projection screens, the like of: "Ouch! She really felt that one didn't she?"

Jemima ******* held the mike up to the pretty lips of her very well made-up face, and began to make the introductory comments that would go out now on the public address system, and also be recorded for editing when the highlights of my torture were broadcast on the upcoming Saturday nights.

"Ladies, we've heard that the very naughty girl who is to endure the spike here shortly, is to also be whipped. The spike has, of course, been a regular punishment for very naughty girls since the passing of the Societal Behaviour - Correctional Guidance of Wayward Girls Act 2020. But my records show that it has never hitherto been combined with a whipping for the girl being punished on it. Naughty girls get whipped; very naughty girls get the spike, but tonight I believe, we are going to witness, the very first time that they have been combined".

Thus began Jemima's commentary, holding the cordless lip-microphone up to her red lipsticked, generously lipped, and very kissable mouth.

"The Societal Behaviour - Correctional Guidance of Wayward Girls (Whipping) Act 2023, of course reintroduced whipping for naughty girls. But I am told by the leading judge in this case, who is an acknowledged expert on these two particular Acts, that the bench chose to set an example here, in that the girl to be punished for being very naughty, is an intelligent and educated young woman, who, as that same judge put it, quote, should be old enough, intelligent enough, and educated enough to have known better, unquote. Ladies, perhaps in what this wise judge has said, there is a 'quote for the day' for us."

……………………

Though as yet unheard by me, and those with me, closed behind the soundproof doors of the torture chamber, Jemima's inane commentary echoed off the nearby buildings as the over-loud public address system, long overdue modification or, better still, replacement, crackled and squawked with static, and occasional electronic feedback.

……………………

Outside, Jemima continued to mouth her nonsense: "Now, of course you are all wanting to know who the very naughty girl is on this occasion. Officially of course she is just a number, and that number is: ……let me just find my notes here…….: yep…..yes, that number is, 36D24…. erm….. 36D2437 ….erm….437-001."

"So those of you at home, taking part in the telephone draw, if your home telephone number begins with '36', one of our studio girls will be phoning you shortly: and all you have to do, is answer the simple question: 'how many strokes will she get?' And, if you get the answer right, and, of course, if it is your correct answer that is drawn by the very naughty girl after she has been whipped, you could be today's lucky winner and be on stage with me at the very next London whipping!! And how about that?!!"

"Oh, and I should have said of course, that terms and conditions apply to the home telephone number draw."

"Now the girl. Well, ladies, I understand that she stole a bottle of scent would you believe….."

"Excuse me, one moment please, I'm getting a message in my earpiece….Can you repeat that please?…..the name? Yes of course……"

"…..As I was saying ladies, we are in for a real treat this evening because, if my information is right, the very naughty girl to be whipped here today, is none other than Katherine *****, the international model…….."Katrianna. ….repeat that please………sorry ladies my earpiece again….. 'Katrina?' …..'Katrina' I'm informed."

"Now not many of you will know Katherine, but I am told that she is as sexy as she is beautiful, and that she is certainly very beautiful. I think we have a still here from one of the magazines Katherine,………. sorry, Katrianna, has appeared in."

"There it is now on the big screen….No… that's the wrong one…..Yes….this is Katherine ladies. Isn't she lovely? Wouldn't we all like a figure like hers ladies? And I needn't ask the gentlemen if they like her figure of course! No…….. sorry,……….. no gentlemen allowed here are there: but I mean if men were allowed here……….."

"And a special treat for the gentlemen, if there were any here of course, is that I am reliably told that Katherine is a devout lesbian. Does that turn you on boys? Yes, of course it does…..or it would if you were here wouldn't it?"

"Wait now, I think the doors are opening for us, so we will shortly be able to see the spike, and then Katrianna,…….. sorry, Katy, sorry Katherine, will be brought out before us…….."

……………………

I heard the end of this humiliating commentary echo around the room in which I now stood, the doors to the public stage having been rolled open, waiting to be forced out onto the platform, totally nude, before the baying crude crowd of women and girls, gathered notionally to see justice carried out on a very naughty girl, but in fact gathered to enjoy seeing a sexy girl suffer pain.

I was already stark naked, except that my number had been removed from my sacking prison dress, and hung now on a chain around my neck, still labelling me as: "Very Naughty Girl 36D2437-001".

I also wore a steel collar padlocked at the back of my neck, and my wrists were held in individual cuffs at the end of very short chains attached to the back of this collar, so that my hands and arms were out of any reach of my being able to use them to help myself in my upcoming torture, and my already severely whipped breasts were lifted such that they continued to poke out from my chest challengingly insolently.

I heard a cheer from the crowd as a metallic dragging noise told me that the spike had been moved centre stage.

Did it have to be so soon after this, that I was ordered: "Come on darlin'. Sooner it's done sooner it's over, eh?"

The cheer for the arrival of the spike was nothing compared to that the crowd emitted at my appearance.

As I girlilly leggilly wiggly-walked in my natural very feminine gait, the crowd whistled and cheered and jeered. I could see Jemima's lips moving as she was commentating on what was happening, but she was totally inaudible now that the baying crowd had a beautiful girl at their mercy.

I was taken to the front of the stage, and my tears rolled down my face at the evident unmerciful desire of every woman and girl in the crowd to see me suffer.

No time would be wasted in taking me to the spike.

And there it stood in mid-stage. It was made entirely of steel. Its base was a sphere of steel: a sphere perhaps twice as big as a large globe-atlas-of-the-world, such as is found in many a school geography room.

Perhaps to describe the base as the like of a globe of the planet Saturn would more aptly indicate its size as compared with a classroom atlas-globe. To describe it as "Saturn", would also conjure to mind, that around the "equator" of this base globe, there ran a six-inch wide solid steel platform, rather like the rings around Saturn, but welded to the huge heavy ball-base, and not free orbiting like Saturn's rings of course.

From the edges of the six-inch wide ring platform around the Saturn sized, classroom globe-like, solid-steel ball-base, three supporting legs came down, at equally spaced intervals. But all of these even-length legs must be too short to touch the ground on which the ball-base stood, as all of the legs, presently had wooden chocks under them, so as to hold the spike itself pointing vertically upwards.

And the spike itself? The spike itself thrust hard up from the centre top, the "north pole" of the heavy steel globe. It too was solid steel but of round cross-section two-inches in diameter. It was also rigid, save for a telescopic element that enabled it to be pulled out of, or pushed into the globe, to adjust its height for the height of the girl, and the length of the legs of the girl who must ride it.

For me, the spike was set at forty-inches. It therefore rose forty-inches from the top of the ball-base. At its top it coned into a point, as if it were an inverted nail, the conical point that gave it the name: "the spike".

This would be cruel enough in consideration of how I was shortly to have to ride this hideous torture device, but there was an added potential cruelty for all girls that must ride the spike.

Some of the public referred to this additional device as, "the pineapple", some as "the fist" and some as, "Satan's baby", because the forty-inches tall, two-inch diameter spike, was not in fact two-inches in diameter for the whole of its thrusting height.

Nine inches down from its pointed tip and subsequent straight-sided circular-cross-section shaft, the spike gradually flared out like an onion, slowly at first, then gathering to a ball, before returning back to two-inches again.

And for the second nine-inches for which the spike flared out eventually into a ball, after the gradual initial expansion from the two-inches of the majority of the spike, the ball it became was of no less than seven-inches diameter.

And furthermore, whilst the rest of the spike was in smooth steel, the seven-inch diameter ball was covered with dozens of unyielding half-inch diameter quarter-inch midpoint-high, smooth headed eruptions like studs: raised profiles, "pimples", like the mirror image of the dimples in a golf ball.

……………………

Somehow I found myself fascinated by Jemima ******'s commentary, or rather that she insistently stood near me, no more than two feet from my naked bound body, and yet all I could see were her lips moving, as she talked into her lollipop like microphone, her words being completely drowned out by the howling and cheering and lewd and rude remarks about my body, and about my being lesbian, that the girls, for it was the girls rather than the older women who were particularly wanting to see me suffer, threw up at me in their screeching screaming blood-thirsty voices.

Then Jemima thrust her microphone at me and all I heard was: "………..your breasts?"

I made no answer because I heard no question, but I looked down, as best I could in my steel collar, and could see that my savagely whipped nipples were bleeding once more.

I glanced down at my poor breasts for no more than two seconds, before I was grabbed by two of my four tit torturers, and lifted off the ground by strong arms, one from each girl, around my waist, and strong hands, one each under my lovely thighs, lifting my thighs so that I was being carried as if I were sitting upright in a chair, as I kicked my sexy legs in the fight against the horror of what I knew was coming.

One of my torturers was shouting in my ear, barely audibly above the tumult of the sex-and-blood aroused crowd, that I should keep on my toes if I did not want it: "right up inside me".

Ramps for those carrying me were in place either side of the spike, and I had been carried up so that I was now held, still as if sitting in a chair, with my cunt hovered above the dreadful forty-inch long two-inch round spike, widening out to the seven-inch diameter ball "Satan's baby" nine-inches down from its apex.

The crowd now bawled in unison: "ONE; TWO; THREE….." counting to the time when I would be let go.

"Get ready with yer legs darlin'" shouted my chief torturer. "LEGS! darlin' LEGS!" she shouted to try and get me to hear above the blood crazed crowd. It'll go right through yer if don't get yer legs down darlin. LEGS! darlin' LEGS!", she shouted.

She held me tight around my waist, and my thighs were let go, and I reached at full divinely sexy stretch with my orgasimically wonderful legs, to try and touch the six-inch wide "equator" platform with my toes.

Then she let go my waist and the crowd bayed in unison as my cunt slid down the first nine-inches of the pole, and I was impaled on the dreadful agonising spike, that had slid so easily its first nine-inches into my cunt, even as I stood on the equator platform welded around the ball-base on the very tips of my toes to stop the spike going further into me.

I gasped for breath. My lovely breasts rose and fell with the heavy nineteen-to-the-dozen heaving of my chest. And my flared nostrils and lovely invitingly open mouth gulped for air, in my crazed girl-sweat-bathed and girl-sweat-shining incredible fear. And you could almost see that my heart was beating so hard and fast that it must surely burst out of my lovely chest.

The spike was massive inside me. It was huge in its brutal coldness. It was titanic in its unyielding rigidity. It was gigantic in its ripping hardness. It was my punishment for being a very naughty girl.

I was impaled on the hardest coldest and cruellest penis. None of my torturers were immediately near me. As far as the risk of my potential escape was concerned, they had no need to be. I was impaled totally helplessly. I was inescapably impaled. I could not escape my impalement: I could not escape, period.

And, even as I stood penetrated a calculated cruel cold nine-inches by the spike that was my punishment for being a very naughty girl, I already suffered from having the soft flesh of the insides of my thighs chafed by the next nine-inches of the spike, the nine-inches where it flared out to a seven-inch diameter ball.

This ball-bulge, containing enumerable outward facing raised metal studs, had already introduce itself to the soft, soft, girl-soft, smooth and lovely flesh of my inner thighs, as I was impaled upon the first nine-inches of the spike, standing in the sexiest of lovely-leggy-leg-stretched tall-tiptoe-long-leggy pain-gasping unsteady struggle, tippy-toes on the "equator" platform around the base globe, fighting to keep on the very tip of my big toes on the platform, so as not to have the spike go even further up into my wonderful cunt.

I struggled helplessly and hopelessly to free my hands from the back of my steel neckband in order to find some means of comforting my cunt, which was opened so wide by the nine-inches of the two-inch diameter spike up me. But I could not free my hands and I had no right to comfort. A very naughty girl has no right to comfort.

And the ramps they had walked up holding my body before it had been impaled on the spike were being taken away. And the chocks that supported the three legs of the ring platform at the equator of the ball-base of the spike, the platform on which I stood on my bare tiptoes, fighting to keep myself tiptoed so that the spike would not rip further into my cunt, those chocks were taken away…..

……and I cried out in petrified agony as the ball-base of the spike instantly rolled over from one pair of these legs to another pair. The fact that all three of the legs were too short for more than two of them to be grounded at any given time, allowed the huge ball-base to roll from side to side, and back or forth, with my poor body impaled upon the equivalent of its massive cock, so that I dare not even twitch a lovely muscle, because the ball-base would roll and the spike would be forced from side to side, or to and fro, within my poor tortured cunt.

And my pretty toes danced on the narrow platform as I fought and fought to stay both tiptoed and to re-balance myself every time the ball-base rolled from one unpredictable station to another, and I was crying out for mercy as I danced, lovely long, strong long, shapely long, beautifully long, leggy-legged long, tiptoed long, orgasimically leggilly on the narrow platform, the dance of the very naughty girl.

And as I enforcedly danced the tortured dance of the very naughty girl, impaled on the spike, so did the super-soft sensitive flesh of the inside tops of my gorgeous thighs get rubbed and bruised by the raised studs on the bulge just below this very naughty girl's captured cunt.

And they left me there to dance for them. They watched the girl-sweat of fear and pain streaming down my sweet body as I danced the dance of the very naughty girl in the hot spotlights, as the ball-base rolled at my every little muscular twitch, and the "north pole" on which I was so cruelly and immoveable and inescapably impaled, swung from one position to the next when I moved, as I had at some time to move, being a live human girl and not a statue.

And the spike swung over from one side to another, or forward or back, or in both directions at once, and I must ride it with my cunt, I must go where the spike went, where the ball-base rolled, and I must be fucked by the spike as it rolled my lovely girl's body with its huge erection in my most sensitive hole, fucking me, fucking this girl unmercifully, fuck-raping her super-sensitive cunt. And I must ride the nine-inches of spike thrust unyieldingly erect and wholly hard up into my cunt, and dance the dance of the very naughty girl, as the base rolled and took my impaled cunt with it, and thus my gorgeous body with it, as I cried out in my terror and my pain at being thus brutally fucked.

And I must now, this very naughty girl must now, be whipped on her bare body to make her go right down on the spike: for right down on the spike is where this very naughty girl must be compelled to go for her full and proper punishment, and to set an example to all other girls contemplating being naughty.

And Mandy and Amy were behind me and, the crowd were baying so loudly for me to suffer, that I did not hear the whistles of their canes, but I felt the blistering fire on my beautiful bum half-moons, as THWICK, THWICK, in quick succession they whipped my poor bare bum. And I screamed as the ball-base rolled around wildly with my body impaled on nine-full-inches of its huge steel cock, and at the terrible pain of the canes red-striping my bare bum. And my toes slipped momentarily, and I did my sexy very naughty girl's tiptoed dance, to keep myself tip-top-tiptoed, for fear of my cunt going further down onto the nine-inch-long, seven-inch wide, brutally unyielding, noduled bulge, that was the next stage of the spike, and which was already at the lips of my delicious cunt.

"Open yer legs darlin'!" shouted my chief torturer. "Open yer fuckin' legs darlin'!!"

"She can't 'ear me. Fuck the noise. Fuckin' crowds. Open yer fuckin' legs darlin'!!!. ,,,,,,,,,,"

"It's no use, she can't 'ere me!"

"Give 'er some on 'er thighs…THIGHS," she shouted to Mandy and Amy, making a whipping motion at her own thigh to make herself understood above the absolutely tremendous noise of the all-female crowd enjoying my torture.

I had closed my lovely dark-brown eyes momentarily, but they soon shot wide-open, as did my pretty mouth with a scream that even the crowd heard above its own noise as, THWICK, THWICK, my stupendous thighs were both whipped with the canes in unison.

It hurt horrendously, and the pain was still searing me, as the ball-base rolled and I all but lost my tiptoed stance on the ball-base's equator platform. And my inner thighs were again bruised by the bulge, with its horrible raised studs, and THWICK, THWICK my outer thighs were whipped again, and I screamed, and the ball-base rolled, and I rode the spike with my cunt, tiptoed in my incredibly sexy very naughty girl's dance stance to stay on the ball-base's equator platform.

"Open yer legs darlin'!" my chief torturer signalled with both her own parted legs, and her slow delivery of the instruction for me to part my legs, an instruction she hoped I could lip-read, such was the impossibility of being heard in the noise of the crowd at their enjoyment of my sexual suffering.

I did not understand, or at least I did not want to understand, what she meant, and avoided reading her lips. So her signal now, was to tap herself behind her knees. I did not understand what this meant either; but Mandy and Amy did……

Moments later, THWICK, THWICK, I was whipped by the tips of Mandy and Amy's canes, wickedly hard on the backs of both of my knees. And to the baying shouts of blood-lust-joy from the crowd, both my legs kicked forward, and I lost my tiptoe-grip on the equator ledge around the ball-base of the spike, and I was kicking my powerfully pretty legs as if I were riding an invisible bicycle. And I was hollering in terrible, terrible, excruciating agony, because my cunt was being ripped open by my now completely unstoppable slide, down the dreadful spike, onto the bulge with all its horrible raised studs.

And my luscious legs were forced wide out horizontally wanton-prostitute-obscenely-wide open and out as I slid down, the 115 pounds of my delectable body taking me in an unstoppable slide, so that my cunt lips were initially parted by the gradual widening of the upright spike, until at last, as my legs were forced wide apart by my slick slide down the pole, my cunt was compelled to open and endure the dreadful reverse birth of taking the noduled ball into it.

As the seven-inch bulge ripped through my outer cunt lips and began to tear my inner lips, a second nine inches of the spike was going inexorably into my lovely cunt, and I was penetrated by the whole horrible nine-inches of ripping and tearing bulge. And I was only saved from being penetrated further than the eighteen-inches of spike that was now hard up my cunt, by a cross-rod through the spike on which my perineum finally and blessedly rested.

I was filled with the pineapple; I was ripped by the fist, I was carrying Satan's baby in my cunt, and I was howling, and howling, and howling, and howling, in terrible, terrible pain, as the ball-base rolled around with me impaled by eighteen-inches of cold cruel steel spike. And with my legs splayed out like a wanton girl demanding a fuck, the ball-base rolled and I was raped inside my cunt the more by the horrible Satan's baby.

And this I must suffer for an hour. My hour did not begin until I had the Satan's baby in me. My hour therefore had only just begun.

The cameras moved in to show the detail of my agony. My terrible pain showed on my face. Such a lovely face translated into such terrible purgatory had no tears, for I was too agonised for tears.

My lively length-lovely lithe lissom legs exhibited their every girl gorgeous curvaceous contour. Magnificently muscled, sexily sinewed, they were siren seductive television targets for electrifying erections and secret secretions, as they lashed out uninhibitedly, piston powerfully promoting lecher love longing.

The width of the Satan's baby was so huge in my cunt that I found my ease, if minimally marginally less agony could be called such, in holding my delicious legs out toes outstretched as near to the horizontal as I, a fit girl, could manage. Jemima's commentary defined my stance as that of an aeroplane with superbly sexy wings.

But in fact I only managed this little lessoning-of-my-pain-stance for short spells, as the ball-base would still roll from one set of two of its deliberately too-short supporting legs, to two others.

I had eighteen-inches of the unrelenting "north-pole" spike from the top of the rolling ball-base rammed up my cunt, and my body had no choice but to go with the roll, and the increase in my agony it would cause, as the ball stopped its roll to balance on two of its three legs, but my soft girl's body still moved, causing the Satan's baby to rub the insides of my brutalised split even more.

So many times I fought to put my legs together to try and once more get at least my toe-tips on the equator platform on the ball-base, so that, in my dreams, I might relieve my nightmare by using my legs to ease my body up off the Satan's baby.

And as many times as I tried, did I also completely fail. For, not only did I cause the ball-base to roll around throwing my body, pinioned by its cunt to it, from one perpetually purgatorially painful position to another, but the Satan's baby was filling my body too hugely for me to be able to get my legs together sufficiently, to claim anything approaching even the grip of one big toe, let alone both, on the narrow equator ledge.

This was the punishment for very naughty girls. This was my punishment for having been a very naughty girl. But I had no mind for my being punished. The fact that I was being punished was never in my head during that agonising hour. My mind my body and my soul only ever and ever and ever thought about the dreadful pain as I rolled around fulcrummed on my cunt, filled by the Satan's baby, axled by my cunt, filled with eighteen full unbelievably unyielding, unrelentingly uncaring, unmercifully upthrusting inches, of inhumanly inflexibly invading fiercely forcefully fucking cock.

The crowd cheered every time the ball-base rolled and at my every consequent pitifully agonised cry.

"Whip her"; "Whip her"; "Whip her"; they chanted, as if I was not in enough pain, and from their shouts I knew my long lingering loneliness had no love to relieve it.

My hour seemed to be lasting for eternity as time and time again an attempt to relieve my pain would cause the ball-base to tip and roll to a new angle of station, forward or backward or sideways from where it had been moments before, and my lovely body thus forced over on its agonising eighteen-inch-deep-in-my-cunt axle.

But then I became aware of a stirring in the crowd, and a moving-in of Mandy and Amy.

"Finish 'er off!" shouted the chief of my torturers.

And then, because she could not make herself heard, after an interval to draw a deep breath, cupping her hands to make a "megaphone" for her mouth, she again shouted: "FINISH 'ER!" to Mandy and Amy, who still could not hear her for the tremendous tumult from the crowd enjoying my torment.

My chief torturer then signalled with her forefinger drawn slowly across her throat, mouthing slowly the word, "finish", so as to get Mandy and Amy to understand.

Mandy and Amy nodded that they were now clear on their instructions. And now, Mandy and Amy, as was the requirement for my punishment, for the punishment of a very naughty girl, took one each of my horizontally outstretched pretty feet, and walked with them, holding them tightly, to pull my lusciously lithe legs out straight, one leg forward and one leg behind me, so that I was in a forwards-and-backwards legs-spilt on the spike: on the Satan's baby. And the crowd cheered and jeered at my increased agony.

And Mandy and Amy, then took my feet again, and pulled my legs straight fore and aft once more, but the opposite way, and the Satan's baby further grazed me inside my cunt. And the crowd were beside themselves with joy at my suffering.

And then Mandy and Amy nodded at each other, and grasped my feet, and took my lovely legs out in a horizontal splits, and then walked slowly around in a circle, so that my cunt was the centre of their circle. And the heavy ball-base held steady so that, as they circled with my stupendous legs outstretched in a sideways-splits, my cunt was slowly agonisingly going through three-hundred-and-sixty-degrees of having its superbly girl-sensitive insides rubbed raw by the Satan's baby. And I was riding around legs outstretched pulled slowly around by Mandy and Amy, using my cunt impaled on the Satan's baby as the hub of their circle, and I hollered and howled with the absolutely unsurpassable purgatory of the Satan's baby's studs ripping into my cunt, as my cunt was slid over them and they grazed the soft flesh of my most sensitive girl-hole. And when Mandy and Amy let go my lithe lissom long legs, blood from my torn cunt trickled down the spike, mixed with a streaming abundance of my nectar, as I howled and hollered and screamed and shouted and bawled out my murderously massive orgasm: the orgasm of a duly punished shoplifting girl: the orgasm of a girl who only stole a bottle of cheap nail varnish: the heaven-in-hell orgasm of a duly punished, very naughty girl.