Certificate of Correction Ch 9--The Birch
We were led into the yard. Harriet and I stepped into the brilliant noonday sun.
There were small, portable elevated bleachers that had been erected on either
side of a scaffold which stood at one end of the enclosed courtyard. The
courtyard itself was a long rectangle in the center of the Justice Center
complex measuring about 200' by 100'.
Various dignitaries and "guests" were already seated, some in the bleachers and
some in chairs directly in front of the scaffold. Stark and ominous, a whipping
post stood in the center of the scaffold. Off to the side was a bucket. Three
rods, actually bunches of switches bound at one end, and wrapped in cheesecloth,
protruded from the bucket. Otherwise the scaffold was bare except for some
chairs.
As attorneys for the prisoner, Susan Pemberton, we were entitled to be in front.
No one was permitted on the platform itself except the prisoner and the
corrections department people.
The punishment detail emerged from a door at one end of the courtyard. A rather
official looking man in his 50's led. I guessed he was the warden. Next to him
was a uniformed matron. There were guards on either side of Susan walking
abreast.
As they approached the scaffold, a uniformed policeman ascended the platform.
This fellow looked young and fit. He put down his hat and started to take off
his shirt. It looked like he was to be the "executioner". He was a good looking
guy in his 20's, brown curly hair, trim, actually quite handsome. Susan looked
up and I could see her give a little start when she realized that a man would be
giving her the whipping. Under any other circumstances she would probably
thought him quite good looking. I didn't imagine she'd relish him asking her out
in view of his appointed task today. Unfortunately, he also had wide shoulders
and strong looking arms.
Susan was wearing the same type of white smock that the girls had worn. My
impression was that the whole procession looked like some pagan sacrificial
rite. The young officer started to roll his arms and stretch, loosening up his
shoulders.
The procession arrived at the bottom of the platform. Susan hesitated, then,
prodded by her escorts, she ascended the stairs. When all had reached the top.
The warden pulled out a paper and addressing Susan started to read it.
"It's the warrant for execution of the sentence," whispered Harriet. She seemed
breathless and agitated. She gripped my hand. "Poor Susan, there's nothing we
can do for her now...They haven't had a man do the birching before."
"Anything in their regulations forbid it?" I asked. Maybe this wasn't right.
"No. It doesn't say. It's up to the corrections department. The regulations
cover things like how many strokes, the size and length of the rod, that sort of
thing." She shivered as she contemplated the police officer with his shirt off,
now clad in a tank top, arms crossed...waiting.
Up on the platform the warden started to speak. He read essentially the same
charge as the one read to Allison and Erin
"...for which crime you will now receive 36 strokes with the island birch to be
delivered as lower discipline to the bare skin. Do you have anything you wish to
say before sentence is carried out?"
Susan stammered a nervous "no".
The warden nodded to the head matron and said, " Secure her to the whipping post
and proceed."
A sound, yelling from a window above, momentarily diverted everyone's attention.
"Susan, Susan, look up, we're here! You're not alone, Susan!"
Susan and everyone else looked up to the window above. There were Erin and
Allison waving with the fist up salute. Susan seemed to straighten up her
posture at the sight of her friends.
Next to me Harriet noted, "Uh, oh, trouble. They're not supposed to do that." An
official was talking to Anna Klochek and pointing to the window. She nodded and
strode off. I tried to follow but a guard stopped me.
"No one allowed in this entrance. You'll have to have an escort."
I'd have to go back in the front gate when this was over, anyway. I returned to
Harriet.
"Are the girls in trouble?" I said.
"I don't think so. They'll just tell them to pipe down."
On the platform Susan was ordered to doff her gown. She did so revealing her
lush body to the gaze of the spectators. Being a redhead, her skin was white.
She had a few freckles, but overall she had a pale skin tone. It would redden
quickly under the birch. Susan had an attractive figure. Her slender waist
flared out into nicely rounded hips and a full lush derriere. Her bottom cheeks
were both rounded and prominent. Nature's perfect spot for punishment.
The two guards led her to the post and positioned her against a horizontal bar
with a pad that projected out from the post and pushed her behind out by
pressing against her pelvis. Ankle cuffs were fastened to ring bolts. They
stretched her hands forward and up, and tied them to a ring high on the post
almost forcing her to stand tiptoe. This stretched her thighs and calves
slightly and forced her bottom to jut out lewdly, inviting the rod.
Susan turned and looked, wild-eyed at the man who would administer her birching.
He reached into the bucket and selected a rod. Drawing it out, he unwrapped it
from the cloth and shook it. The switches deployed, fanning out to form an end
that looked to be about 3"-4" wide. He swooshed it through the air several
times. It made an audible whine.
"They keep it wrapped in wet cheesecloth overnight," said Harriet. "Keeps it
supple--they don't want it to dry out."
The young officer looked at the warden.
"If you are ready, Sgt Wiggins, do your duty. Proceed with punishment."
Wiggins took his stance to Susan's right. He carefully measured the birch rod so
that the splayed end would fall across both cheeks evenly. Susan flinched as he
tapped her bottom lightly. Satisfied that his position was correct, he drew back
his arm. The birch rod made a whining sound as it descended and a dry thwack! as
it landed. Susan emitted a loud hiss, drawing a breath in through clenched
teeth. Someone on the platform called out, "One".
Parallel pink lines spang up on the crowns of Susan's buttocks where the rod had
struck. Susan wriggled and flexed her calves. Sgt Wiggins lined up the rod
again.
Swiiishh...thwack! The impact caused a fleshy ripple of the cheeks of Susan's
rear. Another sharp hiss from Susan. I heard a "Two" solemnly intoned by someone
on the platform, apparantly keeping count.
Swiisshhh...whick! Another hard swipe from the rod made Susan arch her head back
in pain. It must be stinging, I thought, but she was mostly silent yet. She
shifted from foot to foot as if this might alleviate the sting. All it did was
made her fanny jiggle lasciviously.
Swissshhh....huick! Number 4. A gasp from Susan.
Swiishhh....thwack! "5". Susan thrust forward, arching on tiptoe. The pink
lines were merging into an overall hot pink hue.
Swiisshhh....huick! "6". Right in the fold at the top of the thighs-a tender
spot. I could see Susan's whole body tense in painful reaction to the swipe of
the rod.
Having found a rhythm, Sgt Wiggins now started whipping in earnest, delivering a
stroke, pausing, then pulling back his arm for the next one. Susan grew more
vocal now, yelping as the birch striped her nude fanny which grew redder with
every stripe. As the rod landed she would tense and throw her head back. Her
bottom jiggled as the rod struck.
At number 12, Wiggins stopped to get another rod. Susan sagged against the bar
gulping. She was one third of the way through the painful ordeal. Wiggins took
his time unwrapping a second rod. Susan turned her head to see what he was
doing, her eyes wide with apprehension.
"Ooh, I can only imagine how frightfully this must be stinging," breathed
Harriet, her hand still squeezing mine. "He's really laying into her."
I could only agree. Susan's rear was striped red. The birch wasn't heavy, it was
more supple and swishy than anything else, but the cumulative effect must have
felt like bee stings on top of bee stings.
Wiggins was ready to start up again. This time he delivered the twelve strokes
in sets of three. He would strike with three quick strokes like sswish! swish!
swish! and pause. The first time he did this, Susan rose up on her toes and let
out a wail that sounded like "arrrhhh...ahhh...uhh" at each lick. After the
second set of three she started dancing, hopping from foot to foot. It was like
she was doing a fanny jiggling dance in tune to the birch that scorched her
shapely seat in such a pitiless manner. On the third set she yelled in pain,
"Arrhh...ahh...nnnhhh" as each stroke landed. Wiggins had broken into a sweat
now. His skin revealed by the tank top glistened with exertion. He pused to wipe
his brow, then delivered the last three swipes of the second group of 12. Susan
broke down and shrieked. Her bottom was starkly red now. Most most offenders,
this would have been the end of the ordeal. Susan had 12 more to go.
She turned her head in our direction as Sgt Wiggins fetched the last rod. I
mouthed, "Almost over." Susan nodded weakly, her tearstained face a mask of
anguish.
Sgt Wiggins prepared the final rod, shaking the withes to spread them out. As he
swooshed it through the air, I could see Susan flinch at the sound. This time he
laid them on in hard even strokes. As each swishing lick struck Susan raised up,
her buttocks jiggling with the splat of the rod. Then she cried out in pain and
danced from foot to foot. She was no longer in control of her body but was
dancing to the tune of the punishing birch. By number 28 she was crying
continuously and begging shamelessly for mercy. At stroke number 32, however she
had slumped her body against the bar and was grinding her pelvis against it in a
slow humping motion, like she was being ridden from behind by a vigorous lover.
Wiggins paused momentarily, puzzled.
"Oh, God," said Harriet, "look, she's become sexually aroused. I saw this once
before." Everyone watched the unmistakeable writhing in stunned silence. The
lewd display was interrupted by a sharp admonition from the warden. "Proceed,
Sergeant. Finish the punishment."
Sgt Wiggins nodded and drew back his arm, apparantly determined to make the last
few memorable. Swiisshh....huick! "Arhhh....ah...ah.." bleated Susan. The
hardest one yet. She ground her hips against the bar in a slow circular motion.
Sweee....thwack! "34." Susan's fanny bounced lewdly. Swiiissshhh....thwick!
"35". Susan humped up and down, in a frenzied motion. Swiisshhh....huick! "36".
Susan rose on tiptoes and screamed, probably partly in relief.
The warden turned to Wiggins. "Good job Sgt."
"Thank you sir," he replied and placed the rod in the bucket with the other
spent birches.
"Untie her and take her back to the infirmary." The attending matrons approached
to do his bidding. Susan slumped when they untied her. They quickly covered her
with the loose gown. Susan's hands gingerly massaged her punished rear cheeks
through the thin cotton, and I could see tears roll down her face as they led
her away.
"Poor Susan," said Harriet shaking her head. "What an ordeal! To be stripped
naked and thrashed with a bundle of switches until you are screaming and
dancing. It's especially shameful for a woman...to have your rear end whipped
like some schoolgirl...and then to even become aroused by it! She will feel the
shame of that spectacle for years to come."
The spectators were beginning to melt away.
"I guess that's the point," I ventured. "The pain will fade soon but she will
remember this vividly for the rest of her life. Let's go retieve Erin and
Allison."
We went back out front and in through intake. To our surprise we were told that
the two juveniles had not been released but were being detained in the office of
the deputy juvenile head matron.
"Well call her," I demanded. "Those girls are to be released to my custody."
The desk officer picked up the phone. "There is an attorney here, a Mr Hand.
With him is a Mrs Reeves, an attorney for Susan Pemberton...yes? alright, I'll
send them back...yes, Carla can escort them. I will. Right away, Ms Klochek."
Anna Klochek again. I did not have to be told that this was not good news.
