Mob Movies

Chapter 24 Getting Cleaned Up

     The slaves were filing out of the basement door when Corrine and I returned.  We joined them as the Overseers escorted us down a long hall to the back of the mansion where we entered a shower room that reminded me of the one in the boy’s gym at my high school.   Slaves who knew the drill better than Corrine and I quickly turned on the showers so the water would get warm.

     Thirty slaves was a crowd so we shared a shower with Steve and Anita.

      “Let me wash your dick, Tom,” said Anita playfully reaching for my cock.  Women who’ve just had a good fuck are normally in a good mood.  And apparently Anita was one of them having spent the afternoon servicing a black couple who made full use of her predilection for combining a hard spanking with a hard fuck. 

            Having never refused an offer from an attractive female to wash my privates, it didn’t seem like the time to start.  I thrust out my Johnson to indicate I was agreeable.  Corrine took hold of Steve’s and began lathering his balls with a motel-sized bar of soap whose paper wrapper read Longwood Motor Court.

     “How does my tush look,” asked Anita turning around to show me her reddened bottom?

     “Like someone warmed it up,” I answered getting into the group’s playful spirit.

     “I’ll say.  Paul and Denise love to spank their white slave girl,” said Anita trying to look over her shoulder at her rear.

     “You sound like you enjoyed it,” I said putting my arms around her covering her boobs.  She wiggled her bottom against my soapy crotch that welcomed the sensation.  Anita reminded me of a girl I used to date who loved sex in the shower.  My skin except for my cock would wrinkle up on our dates.

      “How was your first day, Tom? Fuck anybody interesting?” asked Anita turning and taking my cock in her soapy hands and working up and down the shaft?

      “Yes, interesting, highly erotic, exciting, and even educational,” I said while soaping up Anita’s thighs.  Around us, the practice of washing each other’s sexual organs was being universally followed.  It wasn’t serious sex just play.  Everyone had gotten enough slave sex to feel satisfied.   I thought of it as a warm up period for what was to come.  We still six hours to midnight.

     Nearby a petite blonde was washing Danny Boy’s cock that looked even bigger in the bright lights of the shower room.  Ken was standing face forward toward the shower room wall while a red head gingerly washed his red-stripped rear.  Masters unknown had whipped his backside to an almost purple hue.  Irish Mike turned around to reveal a rear end in similar condition.  Before he turned, I noticed his nipples looked the worse for wear.  I couldn’t say I was sorry.

     Their bruised butts encouraged me to look around and observe a good portion of the slaves had bruises or red welts on their backsides, me included.  Several of the women had red splotches on their breasts.  Corrine’s nipples looked like a company of Marines just back from a six-month tour in a combat zone had manhandled them.

     “And how was your day, Cory,” asked Steve?

     “Pretty much the same as Tom’s but I would have to add the word, painful,” said Corrine giving the base of his balls a gentle squeeze as she lathered up the shaft.

     Apparently, Danny Boy overheard our conversation.  He grabbed Corrine by the wrist and pulled her toward him as he placed his hand between her legs almost lifting her off the ground.  “What’s the matter, Cory?  How’d you like your ride on the rail?  Make your pussy sore?”

      Corrine winced as his hand explored her vulva.  “Leave her alone,” I said placing my hand on his bicep that was the size of my thigh.

      “Don’t Tom,” said Corrine putting her arm around Danny Boy’s neck to pull her face close enough to kiss his lips. “It’ll be all right.  Dan just likes to play with his pussy before he eats it.  He knows I get off on it.”

      “Better do as Cory says or I might come looking for you in the maze,” said Danny Boy releasing Corrine.   Danny Boy fisted his oversized cock in my direction.  “Think you can take something this big in that skinny ass of yours, Tom?”

      “I’ve taken bigger,” I lied.

      “Then tonight shouldn’t be a problem,” said Danny Boy.  “Kay, baby, come over here and help Joanne wash my prick.”  Kay ceased washing the back of a man I assumed was her husband and rushed to Danny Boy.  He took her in his arms for a kiss then put his hand on her shoulders forcing her to kneel beside Joanne.  The two kneeling females applied themselves to soaping Danny Boy’s privates as he leaned back against the shower wall with his eyes closed.

      “They put you on the rail?  You poor thing,” said Anita putting her arm around Corrine.

      “The worst thirty minutes of my life,” said Corrine placing her hand on her sex to show where it hurt.  “It was hell.”

      “I did a half hour once.  For the last ten minutes I begged them to kill me,” said Steve.

      “What’s the rail,” I asked.  “I’ve heard about it all day.”

      “Ever heard the old expression, tarred and feathered and ridden on a rail,” asked Steve?

      It sounded vaguely familiar but I didn’t recall from where.  “No, what does it mean?”

      Steve turned out to be a history buff.  “Back in Colonial America when jails were rare and prisons non-existent, it was a frequent punishment for lesser crimes than murder and rape.  They hanged you for those.”

      “They did it to both men and women,” said Anita. “There are accounts of church women forming a mob of the righteous to invade the local brothel to tar and feather the prostitutes then ride them out of town on the rail.”

    “What did it involve,” I asked?

     “First, the criminal was stripped naked in front of the townspeople.  In those more modest times, that was an act of extreme humiliation.  In some cases the next step was to be strung up and horse whipped until you confessed your crimes.”

      “That sound like enough punishment,” I said.

      “They didn’t think it was.  Next, they poured hot tar or pitchblende over the head completely covering the body causing second-degree burns.  A coating of chicken feathers was applied to the tar,” said Steve gently lathering my wife’s reddened vulva.  “It was extremely difficult to remove without taking off a layer of skin.”

      “I don’t see any feathers or tar on Cory,” I said using her slave name. 

      “No, the Club couldn’t very well get away with that.  Turning your butt cherry red is one thing; but burning your skin off would be too much; although I’ve see slaves with some nasty burns from candle wax,” said Steve.

      “I’ve had wax dripped on my boobs by a Master and Mistress who are into burning flesh for fun,” added Anita with a wistful look in her eye.  “It hurt like hell but it was a good hurt.  She dildo fucked my pussy and ass while she sucked my clit like it was a cock.  I sucked his prick while he dripped molten beeswax on my areola.  They used clothespins on my armpits, nipples and clit to make them more sensitive; so the wax really stung.  I screamed my head off; but I climaxed.  Their names are Reggie and Simone and hot wax is their thing.”

     “You loved it.  You couldn’t wait to show me the burn marks,” said Steve who was facing the wall while Corrine washed his butt crack.

      I found comfort in the thought I had checked No to Candle Wax when I filled out my profile.

      “I suppose it wasn’t so bad.  They made me come five times,” admitted Anita as I washed her boobs.  When I looked close, I could see her areola were discolored.

      “So what happened to the criminals next,” I asked?

      “After the miscreant was coated in tar and feathers, he or she was placed on a fence rail and carried through the town for all to see.  Usually, a sign with his name and crime was placed around his neck to emphasize the town’s scorn and their humiliation,” said Steve.  “The pain of having very sensitive body parts resting on a coarse wooden fence rail was the worst part of the punishment.  The wood feels like it is cutting you in two.  Every slave here, regardless of how serious a masochist they are, is scared shitless of the rail.”

      I asked, “How did the punishment end?”

      “Usually, the town fathers took them to the city limits and left them with a warning not to ever come back or they’d get more of the same,” said Steve.

      “What does any of that have to do with the club,” I asked.

      Corrine decided it was time to describe her experience.  “There’s a wooden rail in the library, like the kind you would find in and old rail fence on a farm.  The wood is very rough.  It’s maybe six feet long, waist high and supported on the end by two metal stanchions.”

     “The top cut into me like a knife.  I thought I would lose my mind,” said Anita.  “You kind of go crazy with the pain.”

     “There was another girl, Megan, on the rail with me.  She’s the tall brunette over there with Phil, her husband,” said Corrine pointing across the room.

     Megan could only be described as exceedingly beautiful.  I rated her on the same level as Corrine.  She was not only very tall but had a very nice figure.  Her legs seemed to go on forever.  Phil and she were busily washing themselves and each other.

     “There were two of you.  How does that work,” I asked?

     “Ray and his helper, Dwayne, put us on the rail back to back then they tied my hands behind my back and around her waist.  Then tied hers around me,” said Corrine.

      I didn’t understand.  “Show me.”

      Corrine stepped to where she and Anita were standing back to back.  Then she stretched her arms behind her wrapping them around Anita’s waist.  “Like this.”

     Anita reached behind her to illustrate how it was done.  It struck me as something I would have loved to see in person.  “I get it.  You were both seated straddle of the rail, back to back with your arms tied around each other.”

      “That wasn’t all.  Ray put leather collar around both our necks and connected them so the back of our heads were pressed together,” said Corrine.  “If one of us moved, it caused the other to move too.  Any motion caused the sharp wood to dig deeper into your flesh.  Every second the pain gets worse until you can’t stand it and you’re screaming for them to take you off.”

      “All your body weight rests here,” said Anita using her finger to trace a line between the base of your balls and my anus.  Her soapy finger lingered on my sphincter pressing against the opening.

     I recalled, once when I was a dumb ass kid, trying to skateboard down a handrail.   I wound up landing hard on the place where Anita’s finger had been.  I spent the next fifteen minutes writhing on the ground praying for the pain to go away.

     Steve had a question.  “Did he put weights on your ankles, Cory?”

     “A ten kilogram plate on each of ankle,” said Corrine.  “The pain was excruciating.”

     “Ouch,” said Anita.

     “Why did you get punished, Cory,” I asked?

     “When they called my number to come upstairs I was being tripled penetrated by Danny Boy and his helpers.  They didn’t let me go until they all climaxed.  Ray was furious I didn’t respond immediately.  And the fact my hair was splattered with semen made it worse.

     “They probably did it on purpose.  They may have been in cahoots with Ray,” said Anita.

     “After I finished with the Carlson’s he took me to the Library for in his words, to teach me to come more promptly when my number is called.”

      “Since Ray took over as Head Overseer, the rail has been used more than under the previous regime,” said Steve.  “Still, Ray’s been much more creative about the punishments.  He’s kept thing interesting.”

     “But mainly for women, did he stand there and watch you two suffer,” asked Anita?

     “Yes, he kept jiggling the rail to make it worse,” said Corrine.

     “The bastard,” said Anita.  “But that kind of brutality is what makes the club real instead of just a pretend thing.  Most clubs never get more creative than the flogger.  I heard a rumor they’re going to introduce electrical torture.”

     I kept quiet.  Sometimes it’s best to keep what you know to yourself.  I did picture Anita with her breasts sucked into the electro cups attempting to scream through the Whitehead Gag.  The image caused my cock to stir.    

     “I hope you’re right.  I’ve always wanted to try electro,” said Steve.

     “I’ve heard the rumor also.  So you think creativity is a big part of the club’s appeal,” I asked?

     “Definitely, without genuine pain delivered in creative fashion this place wouldn’t last,” said Steve.  “It would just be another interracial swinger’s club.”

     “How did you and Megan handle it,” I asked Cory?

     “We didn’t.  We kept begging Ray to take us down.  We offered to do anything he wanted,” said Corrine.

      “That’s only normal, dear.  I pleaded with Lloyd, the previous Head Overseer, to take me off.  I even offered him my younger sister, Mandy fro a three some, but the bastard just laughed and let me suffer,” said Anita.

     Steve leaned close and whispered in my ear.  “Bullshit, she talked Mandy into meeting Lloyd with her.  The two of them spent the afternoon fucking the bastard.  Mum’s the word.  She doesn’t know Mandy told me all about it.”

     I had no idea why Steve chose to share family secrets with me.  I suppose you feel a certain rapport with a man who is having his balls washed by your wife.  

     “Steve, getting back to your historical account of the punishment, I don’t see any connection to slavery,” I said after thinking about all I’d heard.  I know a little American History myself.

      “It’s simple.  Up until the Emancipation Proclamation freed the slaves, slave owners and their bounty hunters punished abolitionists and runaway slaves with prolonged and exceedingly brutal rides on the rail after they were covered in tar and rolled in feathers.  They did other things too.  But they made frequent use of tar, feathers, and a sharp wooden rail to strike fear in the heart of abolitionists.

     Slaves were economically important to the plantations, so killing them for running away was not financially smart but putting them up on a fence rail so other slaves could listen to them scream was not only punishment but deterrent to keep others from escaping to freedom.  Slaves were placed on the rail with heavy weights attached to their ankles and left for hours.  Whites who helped slaves escape were treated even worse,” said Steve.

      “And the law didn’t stop them,” I asked?

      “The law in the Southern states was far more likely to help than hinder them,” said Steve.  “The abolitionists who ran the underground railway came in for truly awful punishment from slave owners.”

      “Interesting,” I said. 

      “I can only say it was the worst half hour of my life,” said Corrine. “Megan and I were screaming our lungs out by the time Ray took us off,” said Corrine.

      “So do you want to quit the club,” I whispered?

      “No, of course not, don’t be rediculous.  Like Steve said, it’s things like the rail that make the club what it is,” said Corrine giving me a look of extreme disapproval for even suggesting we quit.

      “All right, great,” I whispered back glad she was proving to be such a trooper. 

     At that moment, Charmaine pushed a small cart containing plastic bottles into the shower room and made an announcement.  “Douche time.”