Spice Plantation

Spice Plantation - Ch. 4

When we finished the food, I carried the tray back to the kitchen, dumping the garbage and putting the rest into the dishwasher. Judy was right. While I enjoy cooking and while Judy and I have spent several interesting evenings preparing semi elaborate meals, this convenience form of cooking left a lot of additional time for more interesting activities.

When I returned to the bedroom, Judy had built up the fire and put on her wrist and ankle cuffs again. She was lying on the lounge and when I entered she moved her arms above her head and spread her legs, ready to be tied down. "You really like being tied while I read this, don't you?" I asked.

Judy looked almost embarrassed. "It seems to turn me on more. If you don't want to, just say so."

"I certainly wasn't complaining. I just don't want to get you too cramped or anything. I plan on taking you back downstairs again later. As long as you're comfortable, I love having you like that."

"I'll tell you if I start getting too stiff. On the other hand, if you get stiff I'll be in the right position."

"Your mind really seems to be on one track today, doesn't it. Right track, I'll certainly admit, but definitely on one track. OK, Lover, let's tie you in place." I attached her cuffs to the rings built into the lounge, making sure she wasn't stretched too tightly. Then I spent a couple of minutes stroking her body and teasing her a little. I noticed that when I lightly pinched or sucked her nipples she winced slightly. They were probably still pretty sore from the nipple clamps, but when I asked, she told me to go on.

At last, turning off all the lights except the one I was using to read by, I opened the journal and began to take us back to 1921.

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February 27 (Seven Day)

Today is the seventh since my arrival, but I can truly say I feel like I have been here much longer. I have never felt so satisfied with a job or the people I have worked with as I do here. Not to mention the working conditions. All the people I have met are wonderful - both the workers and the staff. Sometimes when you meet a new person you immediately feel either a distinct like or, on the other hand, a distinct dislike, with no particular reason. Sort of "I do not like the Dr. Fell, the reason why I cannot tell ..." Usually a few people out of each score I meet will strike me one way or the other. But here I have immediately felt a great bond with each of the staff members and to a slightly lesser extent with most of the workers. And, more strangely, not one person I have met has "rubbed me the wrong way." Perhaps this is because we all - at least the Westerners - seem to be kindred spirits. (The thought just struck me that several of them - Che, Mai-quan, Ly-mei, Tami, Susan - have, indeed, rubbed me exactly the right way!)

Especially Susan. She and I have spent the last three nights together. I realize that in the strange Wonderland in which I now live the rules are somewhat different and men and women do not group only as one fixed pair. I'm sure that both Susan and I will sleep with others - Susan made that clear early on, after all - but for now neither of us has wanted to bring in anyone else. That first night at her hut we slept very little. The next two in mine resulted in a little more rest but we still made love four or five times each night. I have never met a woman like her.

The plantation has its own work schedule. Instead of the standard week, work here consists of seven days of work followed by three days off. Today is the seventh as the day I arrived was the first of a new work period. Since everything seems to revolve around this schedule I have started noting the day in this journal. Perhaps surprisingly no names have developed other than the rather bland One Day, Two Day, and so on. Perhaps this has to do with von Holt's Teutonic mind.

I have been thinking about what to do with my days off - or maybe, more correctly, exactly how to go about doing it. Either way I want to spend as much time as possible with Susan. Work finishes at about four this afternoon, so maybe at lunch I'll ask her what we might do this "weekend." For now I'd better get back to the details of cinnamon production.

Later

At lunch Susan and I went down to the beach by ourselves. We weren't trying to avoid others, but they just didn't feel like a swim today and we did. I'm just as happy it worked out like that because it gave us a chance to have "dessert" after we ate. Two weeks ago the idea of making love on an open beach in the middle of the day would have seemed outrageous, but now it seemed only nice, not even very unusual.

As we lay together afterwards, I broached the subject of possibly going back up the path to the overlook where we had first made love. I suggested we might take a picnic supper and go there when work ended at two.

Susan propped herself up on one elbow and looked directly at me. "This is your first "seventh day" here, Alex. Has Nate or anyone told you about what happens right after quitting time?" I shook my head. "Well the time right after work is designated as "punishment time." I'm sure Nate told you that we administer our own justice here."

This time I slowly nodded. "He did, but he didn't give me the idea it was a common occurrence. I thought there was almost never a discipline problem."

"There isn't really," Susan replied. "But we do have regularly scheduled punishment sessions and everyone attends. Today I believe there are five whippings scheduled."

I was completely taken aback. Surely there couldn't have been five serious offences in the time I had been here or I would have heard of it. Besides the thought of a flogging made me uneasy. I had witnessed one while I was in the army and I had no desire to view another. I said as much and then added, "What did these five men do to rate something like that anyway?"

Susan must have interpreted the look on my face because she reached out a hand to hold my arm and began, "It's not quite what you think, Alex. Let me explain. First they didn't do anything that awful. And by the way, only two of them are men: the other three are women."

I must have really reacted to that, because she gripped my arm tighter and held me still. "Just let me tell you a little before you make a judgment. I can promise you this will not be anything like any flogging you may have seen in the army. Let me think how to explain this."

She stopped and thought for a few seconds and then began again. "This all started before I got here, but I've been told the story. When von Holt first set up this island, he decreed certain punishments for certain offenses. From all I've heard there were a total of three serious cases the first year: two thefts and one rape. In each case he had the perpetrator given a dozen lashes and sent away from the island. In the case of the rapist the victim was allowed to give the man another six lashes herself. I have heard she placed these so that they will be the ones he will always remember. After these three cases the workers learned and there has never been another serious crime."

"However, you have to remember that in many ways these people are not as sophisticated as Westerners. You know about the rather free attitude towards nudity and sex. This doesn't mean that flirting is unnecessary. One of the ways the men have always tried to impress the girls is by actions which in many places would be described as 'macho.' So, anyway, sometime several months after the last real crime several of the men began to ask questions about what would happen if they took something of small value. It took a little while and a lot of questioning, but the man who was general manager at that time finally discovered what they were trying to do. They wanted a situation where they could show how brave they were by taking a whipping that wasn't really too severe."

"Well, to sum it up, over the last few years a system has developed. A man will take some small item. Then he will report himself to one of the staff. Everyone knows he will return the item and that he will be whipped. Now, before you get to imagining too many things, the whippings are not severe and no real damage results. We all have become quite adept at using the whips so even the skin is almost never broken."

Did I hear right? Did Susan not only watch, but actively participate in these sessions? The look on my face as I stared at her must have been easy for her to read. "Yes, Alex, we all take part. You will also before too long. But now just listen. The result of all this is that when a man wants to show off how tough and virile he is, he arranges to be whipped. Afterwards he always gets a lot of female attention. The women soon noticed this and now they also do the same thing. They know that watching a girl get herself lashed will really excite the men. It really is just a fun game to them."

I was having trouble accepting what she was saying, partly because of the picture I had in my head from that one real flogging I had witnessed. Finally I managed to ask, "And no one really objects to this? They don't mind everyone watching them being lashed?"

"Quite the contrary. Not only don't they not mind, they want to show off, remember. Tell me something, Alex. Haven't you ever spanked a girl?"

I turned a little red. "I'll admit that a couple of times I have, but nothing like a whipping."

"I told you this isn't like a real whipping like I understand they still give out in English courts. We are all very careful so that no one gets really hurt. The staff administers the punishments. We usually take turns and I believe Nate and Joan are doing it today. But everyone - staff and workers - watch. You come with me today and you'll see. Just trust me, Alex. I am a doctor. I'd never let anyone really be hurt."

I still wasn't sure about the whole thing, but I had to admit the idea of seeing one of the native girls bound to a whipping post or such did cause a sort of perverse excitement. Anyway, just after four, Susan came round to my office to fetch me. "Staff usually wear sarongs to these sessions," she said. "The workers are, of course, nude."

She led me to a small building in a clearing off the trail to the workers' living area. I had seen the side trail, but had never ventured down it. Now I saw that in the open area outside the twenty foot square building, were several structures. There were two vertical posts with high cross pieces - the traditional whipping posts. There were also two high horizontal bars, about eight feet off the ground and ten feet long, supported at each end by sturdy posts. And finally there were two other two foot horizontal bars at waist height and four bench arrangements. Each bench consisted of a four by six horizontal beam, padded with heavy canvas. These were about three feet long and supported a little below waist height by slanted legs at either end.

The entire native workforce was assembled in a group around these structures. That is, the entire workforce with the exception of two men and three women. I could see these five back near the side of the building with Joan and Nate. Their hands were bound but from where we were I couldn't identify any of them. The remainder of the staff was standing in a small group. The entire assembly had the air of a festival or party.

Susan and I waved at Bob and George and the two nurses and then stopped by ourselves. I watched as the two men were led forward to stand under the two whipping posts.. I could now see they were wearing padded leather cuffs around their wrists and also around their ankles. Nate summoned four native men and, widely grinning, they came forward and fastened the victims' wrist cuffs to chains on the post crosspieces, leaving the two men helpless, stretched so their toes were just touching the ground.

For their part neither of the victims looked really scared, but rather they were all smiles, what I guessed were wise cracks, and other indications of bravado. When the two victims were secure, the four men stepped back and Nate and Joan moved forward between the two posts. In a clear, loud voice Nate named the two men, called out their offense ( they had taken some small tools ) and announced their fate. "Each will be warmed by the cat and then will receive fifteen lashes, and remain on display."

Nate was holding a cat-of-nine tails with two foot lashes. It looked like the tails were single pieces of flexible leather, about a half inch wide. Unlike the military cat I had seen, these looked as though the lashes were soft leather, well oiled, and not at all stiff and cutting. They would undoubtedly sting like the dickens but probably would not deeply cut into the flesh. As Nate moved behind one of the men and raised the whip, Susan leaned against me and confirmed my observations by saying, "These cats are soft. They sting a little, but mostly just warm the skin up so the whip doesn't do any real damage."

Nate began to land blows on the helpless victim. I immediately noticed that this was nothing like the whipping I had seen. For one thing the blows were not nearly so hard. Admittedly they started easy and seemed to get progressively harder, but never really reached a truly severe level. They left the skin red and caused the men to jerk at each blow and sometimes utter a small sound, but they drew no blood at all. For another thing, they were generally applied to the buttocks rather than the back.

After fifteen or so blows Nate moved away from the man and over to the other where he once again began to swing the cat. Then Joan moved behind the first man. She was wearing only a sarong, her magnificent breasts free and exposed, and in her hand was a single tailed whip. This consisted of an eighteen inch wood handle topped by a four foot braided leather lash. The single tail was fashioned of three pieces of leather, braided together, and ending with three inches of each of the separate leather pieces. It also looked fairly soft, but I was sure it would hurt a lot more than the cat had. The look on my face must have indicated just that, because Susan leaned over again and said, "It looks pretty viscous and can do some damage if the wielder is not careful, but just watch. Joan - for that matter all of us - knows how to use it and all she will do is leave a few small welts on the man's bottom. They'll be gone in a day or two, but until then they will be badges of honor which will get him pretty much any girl he wants."

I wasn't sure how much of that to believe as Joan brought her arm down in a long, graceful arc which ended with the end of the whip crossing both of the man's stretched buttocks, the three fingered tail wrapping on around his left hip. He gave a small stifled cry and a red line immediately appeared across his bare skin. But he didn't react with the fear and resentment I would have expected from the victim of a whipping. Instead he grinned in a show of bravado and I noticed that a number of the girls who were watching were giving him very admiring looks.

By the time the tenth lash landed, he was unable to hold back his cries at each strike, but he still did not act like he was desperate to bring the torture to an end. Joan moved away from him and began on the second man, who responded much like the first to the beating. When she had laid ten on the second fellow, she stopped and Nate motioned to the four native men who had helped bind them there. These four came forward and soon had unfastened the men's wrists and led them over to a place below one of the long horizontal cross beams. As they moved the two men I could see that the lashes had had another effect on the men: both were now sporting at least partial erections. Evidently the stinging lashes had proved to be a stimulation as well as a pain. Two chains were used to attach each man's wrists to the beam. They were left with their arms widely spread and bound overhead with just enough slack to allow their feet to remain flat on the ground.

While they were binding the men I had noticed that the four workers and the two victims exchanged what looked to be joking or teasing comments. Also during this time several of the native girls had maneuvered closer to the beam so now they were standing only a few feet directly in front of them. The looks and actions of these girls could only be described as provocative as they called comments and moved their bodies in deliberately exciting displays.

Joan moved over near the two men and called something to the girls. One of them called something back and everyone laughed. Still laughing, Joan pointed her finger at the girl who had called the comment and at another girl standing next to her and beckoned them forward. She handed each of them a cat like Nate had first used and said something to them. I looked around at Susan and she said, "Joan's going to let a couple of them warm the boys up a little. That doesn't happen often, but just every now and then."

The two women moved in front of the bound men, swinging the whips - as well as their own hips - provocatively. I noticed that both of the men were still partly erect, their members slightly raised. Evidently the whipping didn't hurt enough to prevent that and, in fact, even though I didn't really understand it, seemed to have actually excited them. One girl said something to the man in front of her and he answered back, laughing, almost appearing to dare her to do something. She moved up to him and reached out to cup his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. Then she backed up slightly and swung the cat so the lashes landed across his stomach. The second girl joined her and began swinging at her victim. Soon the men were again jerking at the blows to their stomachs, chests, and already sore bottoms, and emitting small sounds as the whips struck home.

After a dozen or so strokes Joan called something and the women reluctantly stepped back and handed the cats to Nate, but not before each going forward slightly and giving the man's balls another small squeeze. Now Joan once again picked up the four foot single tailed whip. She raised her arm and suddenly brought it forward, laying a sharp blow across the buttocks of the man on her right. He gave a sharp cry and seemed almost to dance a few steps as the pain of the stroke dissipated. Then she moved behind the second man and repeated the stroke with nearly identical results. She returned to the first man and laid another stroke on the opposite diagonal as the first. She continued this until each of the men had received another five strokes, bringing their total to fifteen. In each case the final stroke was harder than the previous ones and she aimed them so that the end of the braided portion of the whip landed on the lower cheek with the three short tails wrapping up into their cracks, maybe even striking directly on the anus. That this stroke really hurt was obvious from the reactions of the two men.

As the men hung by their wrists, regaining their breath, the watching women seemed almost to lean closer in their direction though none actually moved. I could see the hunger in their gazes and I thought back to what Susan had said about the men getting their pick of girls. It seemed that this would be very likely.

Now the three women were led forward and I was surprised to see that Tami was one of them. All three were brought near Nate and Joan and Nate again called out their names and small offenses. He finally loudly stated, "Each will be warmed with the cat. Each may choose to either receive ten lashes and be on display or to receive five strokes and be quay-ri."

I turned to Susan and asked, "What is quay-ri?"

She grinned. "It means, literally, 'available.'" Then seeing the confusion in my eyes added, "All the victims will remain tied on display for three hours. If a girl wants quay-ri, it means she will be tied in a position where any man who wants can have her while she is there."