Allan's Third Offense

Allan Knawtee waited nervously in Old Town Square, clutching his hands in anticipation, knowing that his name would be called next. The poor unfortunate in front of him had just received a dozen severe whacks with the heavy wooden paddle on his bare bottom, and was now being unstrapped from the whipping platform. Naked from the waist down, he was led through the jeering crowd and sent on his way. "Allan B. Knawtee, take your place!" came the Bailiff's call.

Two guards grabbed Allan's elbows and roughly led him to the raised platform. His handcuffs clinked and jingled as he walked. He hung his head to avoid the spectators' eyes as the Bailiff read his sentence in a loud voice for the benefit of the assembled crowd:

"Being found guilty of your third violation of the Fort Collins Camera Radar Statute, Judge Judy Severe has sentenced you to twelve strokes of the wooden paddle on three consecutive Saturdays. You are to be secured in the pillory, and strokes are to be administered on your bare bottom. No clothing is to be allowed between your waist and ankles after punishment until midnight, and anyone may require offender to masturbate to orgasm during this time. Do you understand your penalty?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Allan mumbled, his face blushing scarlet.

"You will need to do better than that, young man," the Bailiff admonished him. "The people of Fort Collins are sick and tired of scofflaws like you, speeding around on the streets and endangering public safety. Now raise your head, apologize to the citizens for your habitual speeding, and state that you are ready to receive your just penance. I want those people in the back rows to hear you this time!"

Allan reluctantly lifted his head to see the several hundred people waiting eagerly to see his bottom bared and paddled. To his chagrin, he recognized the gloating faces of several people he knew. The attractive blond secretary from the purchasing department was near the front of the crowd, along with her muscular boyfriend. He had caught her eye in the lunchroom, but of course she was 20 years younger than he, and she was not interested in an older, married man. She looked him right in the eye this time and winked, grinning at his humiliation.

"I am so sorry for driving too fast," he practically shouted. "I promise to be a good driver in the future. I understand that my bare bottom is to be paddled, and that I must remain naked for the rest of the day." The crowd applauded, laughing and jeering their approval.

"That's better," huffed the Bailiff. She nodded to the burley guards, who forced Allan over the raised bar at the center of the platform. They removed his handcuffs, his head and arms were passed through the holes in the pillory, and the beam was latched securely over his neck. Now his bottom was raised and presented to the crowd, with his head and shoulders about two feet above the floor.

Allan could no longer see what was happening, but he felt the guard unfasten his belt and the waist snap of his pants. They were roughly pulled down, soon to be followed by his boxer shorts. A cheer came up from the crowd as his bare bottom and his hanging genitals came into view.

Lady Duchess insisted that Allan always keep his pubic area plucked completely bald of hair. He was happy to comply with this requirement, but his smooth state now contributed to his unwilling and complete exposure to hundreds of people. Tears dripped from his eyes as his pants were yanked to his ankles.

The guards lifted first one foot, then the other, as Allan's pants and boxers were taken from him. They were placed in a laundry sack and stored so that he could retrieve them the next day. He would not be permitted any clothing below the waist until midnight. The guards folded his shirt tails up, pinning them well above his waist with safety pins.

With his naked bottom facing the crowd, Allan's black socks and shoes looked incongruous. The guards spread his ankles and strapped each one to the posts on either side of the apparatus. Now every detail of his anatomy was completely visible to the assembled onlookers.

The guards now stepped back to the sides and the Bailiff moved into position behind poor Allan. She hefted the heavy oak paddle, lifting it with both hands and lining it up on Allan's smooth bottom cheeks. He cringed at the touch of the cool wood on his exposed flesh.

"Count for me now, scofflaw!" she admonished him. "Count your penance so that everyone can hear you!"

She wound up and swung the heavy paddle with both arms, connecting with Allan's backside in the center of his cheeks. The loud report of the heavy wooden paddle was accompanied by a sudden release of air from his lungs.

"One!" he choked.

The Bailiff wound up and swung again, connecting higher and mostly on the right cheek this time. She grunted with the effort, putting her full strength into each roundhouse swing.

"Two!" sobbed Allan, no longer caring about the lewd display he was making. He and the Bailiff were now locked in a very personal exchange. Allan's world contracted to the burning flesh between his waist and his upper thighs. He struggled to catch his breath between the blows, and exhaled explosively with each new delivery.

The crowd was quieter now that the punishment was being meted out. Allan struggled not to scream as the heavy paddle connected with his bare bottom again and again. The Bailiff took care to spread the dozen strokes around Allan's buttocks, sometimes high, sometimes low; sometimes left, sometimes right. Even the tops of his thighs were not spared form the punishing smacks.

The Bailiff was breathing very heavily and perspiring as she delivered the last stroke to the center of Allan's scarlet buns.

"Twelve!" he cried, and slumped down in his pillory. The Bailiff laid the paddle down and stepped aside. The spectators cheered as they gazed on her handiwork. Allan's whole bottom was deep red. Only the widespread crack above his crinkled asshole was still white, as the paddle was too wide to reach into this intimate crevice.

Allan fought to regain his composure as the guards stepped up and unfastened his ankles, then undid the swinging stock from his neck and wrists. They helped him to his feet, and turned him around to face the crowd.

His ass was on fire, but his blush deepened as his bald genitals and his face were turned toward the square. He heard jeering from the front rows, and saw women and girls pointing at his exposed nudity. The woman from his office was laughing and pointing at his hairless pubes, her boyfriend's arm around her shoulder.

"Allan B. Knawtee, place your hands on your head and face your peers," the Bailiff intoned through the public address system, completing the ritual of his humiliation.

"You are released to their custody." Behave yourself well, and return next Saturday at noon for the next installment of your punishment. You may return tomorrow morning for your pants, but are to remain dressed exactly as you are for the remainder of today. You have no modesty today, for you are a criminal."

More laughing and jeering met this statement.

"You must not try to cover or hide yourself. If anyone wants a closer look at your punished body, you are to cooperate completely, offering yourself for detailed inspection. Anyone, anywhere, anytime for the remainder of the day, has the right to demand that you make your penis hard by self-manipulation. They may also demand that you ejaculate. If at any time during this period you should have an orgasm, either at the request of your audience or by accident, you are to call out loudly before it occurs. Should you fail to cooperate in any way with the terms of your sentence, citizens may call the Corporal Punishment Hotline to report you. Any infraction will result in automatic additional punishment. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Allan called out. The crowd cheered for him one last time, and he was led down the stairs at the front of the platform.

He would have to walk directly through the crowd to get away. The spectators laughed at him, slapping his sore bottom as he passed. He hung his head and hurried across the Town Square.

Behind him he heard the next miscreant being led up onto the platform. She was an attractive college student caught with a fake ID, and the men in the crowd pushed forward to see her punishment, leaving Allan more space for his getaway. He hurried toward the alley, hoping to get away before he saw anyone he knew.

Suddenly, Allan's heart sunk. Standing at the entrance to the alley, blocking his way, was a group of about a dozen teenage girls. They'd been waiting for him, and he could guess what they wanted.

"Hi Mr. Knawtee, remember me?" sneered a pimply young woman of about 19. He recognized her from his neighborhood. She and her friends had been having a party two weeks before, and he'd called the cops to complain about the noise. Stephanie Saunders was her name. Because it had been her first offense, she had gotten off with a warning, but had still met him with a spiteful stare when he'd seen her the next day in the neighborhood.

"Hello Stephanie," mumbled Allan, covering his groin with his hands.

"Oh no you don't!" taunted a second young woman, standing next to Stephanie. "You don't get to cover up at all - you know the rules. Or should we call that cop over there?"

She motioned with her chin in the direction of a uniformed Fort Collins Police Officer, who was watching the developing scene carefully from about 100 feet away.

Allan slowly dropped his hands to his sides, exposing his hairless genitals to the group.

"You have less hair than my little brother!" giggled a brown-haired woman. "Did you shave it all off?"

Allan blushed, but figured he'd better tell the truth. Lady Duchess was quite strict about his depilation requirements, and demanded that he answer all queries about it candidly.

"I am required to be bald between my legs," he explained. "I must be smooth as well, without razor stubble. So I pluck out the hairs every day before my shower. I get inspected regularly to make sure I've kept up with the tweezers."

Some of the girls made faces at this, some laughed nervously. "Ewww, gross!" said one. Then the rest laughed.

Stephanie stepped right up in front of Allan.

"I want to inspect you," she taunted, "to make sure your punishment was complete." She knew her rights, and was enjoying her revenge on him for the party incident.

"Turn around, Allan," she smirked.

Allan turned his back on Stephanie. In the distance, the crowd cheered again. At least the men had forgotten him, even if these obnoxious teenage girls seemed determined to further humiliate him. The poor girl on the stage was bent over the punishment apparatus, and the guards had just lowered her pants to her ankles.

"Now bend over and grab your ankles," Stephanie ordered. Allan complied.

"Spread your legs. Wider!" she barked. He moved his legs apart as far as he could, knowing that he was lewdly displaying himself to all the assembled teenagers.

Looking between his legs at the assembled group of giggling girls, he saw a bright flash. Someone was photographing him! He stood bolt upright, outraged.

"Get back into position!" Stephanie shouted at him, "or do I have call for that Officer?"

Allan knew his place. Redfaced, he bent over, spread his legs, and grabbed his ankles.

"God, look at how red his butt is!" said one of the girls.

"It must hurt like hell," agreed another, running her hand over his blistered cheeks.

"I like how his balls are so smooth and clean," said another. "He says his Mistress makes him pluck them. I bet that hurts too. When I get married, I'm going to make my husband pluck himself too."

"I want to see his asshole," sneered one of the onlookers.

"Reach back and hold your buttcheeks open," Stephanie ordered Allan. Stifling a sob, he complied, grabbing one burning cheek with each hand and stretching his ass wide apart, so that his anatomy was completely exposed.

Stephanie moved in very close behind him. Allan saw that she held a digital camera in her hands. She stood about a foot away from his wide-open thighs. Flash!

Allan swallowed hard. He was forced to stand still and let his pimply teenage neighbor take pornographic photos of him while her giggly friends watched. He knew that if she called the policeman over, he'd regret it. The Judge had specifically warned him at his sentencing hearing that if he failed to cooperate during his "naked penalty," that she would sentence him to further whippings, more naked time, or even worse.

"Isn't he cute," Stephanie cooed to her friends. She took another picture, from a different angle.

"I think I'll post these on the website of the neighborhood association," she told Allan.

There was a sharp report in the distance, followed by a trembling cry, as the Bailiff's paddle connected with the shapely bottom of the naked co-ed on the platform.

"I want to see him get his dick hard," said one of the teenagers.

Excellent idea, Trish!" said Stephanie. She turned to Allan. "Stand up you little pervert!"

Allan stood up and turned to face his tormenters.

"Get yourself nice and hard for us," she said. "Go ahead, whack yourself off, right here and now!"

Allan blushed crimson again. He looked down to his shriveled dick. His bottom was still burning, and the smirking teenage girls made him feel ashamed. He was not horny in the least, and he couldn't imagine being able to get a hard-on in such a terrible circumstance.

"Officer!" Stephanie shouted, "Officer, come over here! This criminal is disobeying a direct order!"

The Officer started toward him, and Allan put his shame aside and began pulling on his flaccid penis.

"What seems to be the trouble, Miss?" the Officer asked Stephanie politely. The young woman on the platform screamed again as the heavy oak paddle connected with her bare buttocks, then dissolved into sobbing.

"This guy is a criminal. He was just paddled, and ordered to beat off whenever anybody asked him. I told him to do it, and he wouldn't, but now he's doing it 'cause you're here." Allan continued to stroke his bald cock, which was beginning to stir.

"You listen here, buddy," said the Cop. "You have no rights in this matter. If these young ladies want to see what you've got, or if they want you to pull your pud till midnight, then you just get busy, you got it? If I hear any more complaints about you, you're gonna get worse than what you got today."

The officer gestured at the platform at the center of the Square. "Just look at that poor girl up there on the stage. I busted her for a fake ID at a bar last week. She won't be wearing a stitch for a whole month now, and she'll be paddled Tuesdays and Thursdays too, not just Saturdays like you. You want some of what she's getting?" Allan noticed that the woman being paddled onstage had been stripped completely naked for her punishment. Young men surged forward to get a better view, as the paddle connected once again with her bare behind, bringing a cheer from the crowd and a half-muffled scream from the miscreant.

Allan closed his eyes to shut out the gang of cruel teenagers before him. Resigned to his fate, he began pumping his fist around his penis. Despite the circumstances, it began to stiffen.

"Open your eyes, Creep!" Stephanie taunted him. "Smile for the camera now." She snapped another series of pictures of him beating off.

"I want to see him shoot his stuff," one of her friends called out. There was a round of laughs and jeers in general agreement with this sentiment.

Allan had no choice but to stand there in his street shoes and socks, with his shirt pinned above his waist, and masturbate energetically in a circle of gawking teens.

As he stroked and they teased him, the young co-ed onstage was released from her bondage, admonished, and sent on her way. Women and men were directed by the guards to opposite ends of the Square after their punishment. Allan saw a large group of men and boys gathered at the far end, blocking the way of the nude offender. He imagined that she would now be subjected to a similar fate to what he now endured.

Finally, Allan felt the approach of his orgasm. Remembering the admonishment of the Judge, he called out loudly, "I'm cummmming!"

Passersby stopped and stared, and Allan's tormenters laughed as a series of convulsions racked the poor man. Spurts of white cum shot out from his cock, landing on the pavement at his feet. Stephanie recorded the moment for posterity with her digital camera.

The assembled group applauded, as Allan hung his head in humiliation. Another man was being led up to the platform to be paddled, and the group of teenagers started breaking up, some of them heading back to the stage area.

A middle-aged woman in jeans and a T-shirt came striding up, shouldering aside the lingering gawkers.

"Well, Allan, you seem to be pretty popular all of a sudden! I bet that's the most attention you've had from girls in quite some time."

"Hello, Lady Duchess," Allan said glumly.

"Your shirt has fallen down," she pointed out. "I think we should take you shopping for some new ones that will be more appropriate for the rest of today, and for your other Saturday appointments. Let's see what we can find in some of the T-shirt shops here in the Square. Maybe a midriff shirt with something appropriate printed on it. Hmmm."

Allan started shifting back and forth nervously. This certainly didn't sound good. He just wanted to go home and hide, but Lady Duchess was going to drag him around for more public exposure and embarrassment.

"Wait a minute," said Stephanie, who was still standing nearby. "I want him to keep stroking his thing."

"Okay," said Lady Duchess. "Allan, get back to work. This nice young lady wants you to keep your hands busy. We're going to do a little shopping, and I order you to keep pulling on that thing until we get home. And any time you get yourself off, no matter how many times that may be, I want everybody in earshot to know about it!"

Allan started pumping his now flaccid cock. Stephanie laughed at her sweet revenge, and moved back toward the stage to check out the next act.

"OK, limp-dick, follow me," Lady Duchess snapped, and set off back into the Square. There were more women near the stage now, watching the next guy being fastened into the pillory. As Allan walked by, many of them turned to watch him pass. He continued to pump his hand up and down on his penis, but couldn't look the scornful women in the eyes.

Lady Duchess led him into a store, which was behind the stage area. There were fewer spectators in here, but to his horror, Allan recognized the sales clerk as a part-time temp from his office.

"Can I help you?" the young woman asked Lady Duchess, smirking at the pantless Allan standing behind her. Then she recognized him.

"Mr Knawtee? Is that you?" she said in surprise.

"Answer the young lady," Lady Duchess said, "but don't neglect your duties ... down there."

Allan looked up and met the pretty blonde's eyes, but kept stroking his dick.

"Hello, Karen. Yes, it's me. I'm being punished for violating the Camera Radar Statute."

Karen looked him up and down slowly, and sniggered, "It doesn't look like it excites you very much." She looked back to Lady Duchess. "May I help you with something, Ma'am?"

"I'm looking for a T-shirt for this miscreant," she explained. "Something short enough that he can't pretend to 'accidentally' hide himself under it. Preferably with some appropriate text printed on it."

"Hmmm," said Karen. "I have some midriff T's back here." She led Lady Duchess toward the back of the store, and Allan followed miserably.

The shirts were clearly meant for teenage girls, not grown men. They would cling ridiculously to his frame if Lady Duchess forced him to wear one. But she wasn't happy with the designs. Most were flowers and scenic photos of the mountains. She was looking for something in black, she told the sales clerk.