Twelve Days a Slave

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There is no way slave missy can win this lottery.

This is the story of a young woman's conviction as a terrorist and what happens to her when she is sentenced to penal slavery. Penal slavery is not impossible. The Thirteenth and Fourteenth Amendments to the Constitution of the United States of America do NOT prohibit slavery. They only LIMIT slavery to punishment for crimes. In other words, the Constitution allows penal slavery.

After the woman is convicted, a "sentence negotiator" gets her sentence reduced to a public day of repentance followed by eleven days of public punishment. Following that, she is to serve one year of penal servitude.

This story deals with non-consensual punishment, pain, and involuntary slavery. If such topics offend you or upset you, I would advise skipping this particular book.

There are thirteen chapters to this story. The chapters can be read on their own, but the story is much better understood if the previous portions have been read. The complete story is full book length.

A description of the thirteen chapters follows the end of each chapter. The ninth day of punishment is a lottery. The public is given the chance to paddle the repentant terrorist. Eight lucky winners each get to give her five swats with a special paddle. One lucky winner gets to finish the forty-six required for her punishment by laying six swats of the paddle across missy's ass.

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2015 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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Chapter Eleven - On the ninth day of punishment, a lottery gives the public a chance to paddle the repentant terrorist.

Missy awoke early. She wasn't sure why. It was still dark and there was no smell of coffee or bacon, but the slight rocking of the RV told her that William was up front. She padded out to see what was going on. William was sitting at the kitchen table working on his computer.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

William grimaced at her and said, "Grading homework."

"What?" she replied.

There are twenty-five winners to our lottery. Each has submitted a short essay to the webpage saying why they should be the one to deliver the final six spanks with the wooden paddle.

"Oh," missy said. "That's what the lottery was all about."

"Yes," said William. "One winning ticket equals five swats with the paddle. Except the first place winner, he or she gets the last six swats.

Missy's eyes went wide, "Twenty-five!" she blurted out. "That means over a hundred swats! One hundred twenty-five swats will turn my ass into hamburger!"

"Whoa, whoa, missy," he quickly replied. "That includes the undercard. You will receive the standard forty-six. But before the main event-- that's you-- there are three slaves who will be punished with twenty swats each, and two volunteers. One is a man from the stage crew who wants to use this occasion to come out as a painslut. The other is a painslut wife who has this fantasy of her husband spanking her to orgasm in front of a large crowd. She's been here every day imagining herself up on stage. She really shouldn't count in the number of winners because it will be her husband swinging the paddle.

"It's still forty-six swats with a wooden paddle," she pouted. "I got ten with the wood yesterday and they hurt like hell. How am I going to stand forty-six?"

"You will," William said as he stroked her face. "I have a few surprises of my own for today. I can't promise that it won't hurt, but it won't hurt near as much as it did yesterday."

Missy looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes, and he said softly, "You are just going to have to trust me on this." He held her chin in his hand and said, "Have I not protected you as much as possible up to this point?"

She nodded her head.

"Go do your morning routine," he said. "I'll have breakfast waiting for you by the time you get back."

Since it was early, they had time for a very leisurely breakfast. William even cut his eggs in half before shoveling them into his mouth.

They were still running early when they made their morning parade lap through the town so William circled the square four times to kill time before heading back to the fairgrounds. As the crew was attaching the cable to the top of her cage, William said, "Don't worry about what is going to happen today. Think about something else to take your mind off it while you are hanging around waiting."

"I will," she answered as her cage began to rise into the air. Once the cage was clear of the stage, the crew began assembling the equipment needed for the day. Missy watched as they put together five wooden punishment benches. They were the standard padded bench with a kneeler so that the person receiving the punishment could be strapped down on their knees with their body bent over the main portion of the bench. The height of the bench was adjustable so that the person's shoulders ended up lower than their hips, forcing their ass up into the air.

On the side of each bench, a highly-polished wooden paddle, about three inches wide and an inch thick, hung by a leather strap from a wooden peg. The paddle looked very familiar to missy. She rubbed her ass as she remembered the ten swats she had received at the end of her fourth wrestling match the day before.

After all five stations were set up, the crew rolled a cart out onto the stage with the parts for another bench. Missy knew that this bench would be different. For one thing, the pieces were much larger. For another, the wood was all painted a very dark black. The finish, whatever it was, was so shiny that every surface looked almost like a black mirror.

After the wood was in place, the crew attached black, soft leather pads to the kneeler and main bench. They also bolted in place matching black restraints for her ankles and wrists and a very wide black belt which would go over her back to hold her perfectly in place.

"It's like watching someone build your gallows,"

she said silently to herself.

She did not remain quiet, however, when they brought out the paddle. Her loud gasp could be heard up to the top row of the grandstands.

Missy had reason to gasp. Unlike the five paddles in front of the stage, the paddle intended for her had a very shiny black finish. It was also much larger, almost six inches across and two inches thick. A small cable of some sort came out of the end of the handle and snaked its way off stage to where the recording engineer sat at his console. She cringed as she thought of that massive hunk of wood slamming into her ass.

"Think of something else. Think of something else. Think of something else."

she kept telling herself. But all she could think of was that huge black paddle smacking against her ass flesh.

"I guess you could call this escape sex,"

she said to herself as she braced herself against the back of the cage. Her eyes closed as her fingers began stroking her breasts. She moaned slightly as one hand moved down between her legs. Today she wasn't seeking a plateau of pleasure. She was seeking an orgasm of escape.

"There is a certain freedom in slavery,"

she thought to herself as her hands took her higher.

"I don't have to worry about what people think of me for masturbating in public. They already think of me as a slave. I'm not really a person in their eyes. Normal rules and morality don't apply to me anymore. As long as I don't disobey my Master, I can do just about anything in public."

In fact, it helped with her arousal to think of the fact that the stagecrew and anyone in the audience who had arrived early were watching her as she began to writhe in pre-orgasmic ecstacy. Anyone who had not noticed what she was doing was made aware by the loud "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" which echoed through the arena with her first orgasm. She didn't stop there, however, and continued pumping with her hand until she had climaxed twice more.

Her sweat made her body glisten even more as she panted and gasped in post-orgasmic recovery. "That took my mind off things for a while," she said aloud as she relaxed back against the bars. "Now all I have to do is to keep the fire glowing." For the remaining time she continued to stroke herself very slowly while keeping her eyes closed to shut out the frightful sight of the waiting black, shiny punishment bench and its matching huge black paddle.

At two o'clock, William's voice broke through the wall her mind had erected to keep out reality. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "today we reveal the winners to our lottery." He paused for dramatic effect, and continued, "Today, eight of our lucky winners will get to deliver five swats of punishment directly to the repentant terrorist's ass."

He paused once again, this time to wait out the extended cheers and applause. "That only adds up to forty," he said dramatically. "Our winner with the best reason for delivering punishment to our little terrorist's ass will be given the privilege of finishing her off with the final six strokes." He again had to wait out the raucous crowd.

"In addition," he continued, holding up his hands for silence. "In addition, twelve third-place winners will be given the task of helping to punish three very deserving, disobedient slaves. Three more second-place winners will get the pleasure of helping a young man out himself as a painslut. And one very fortunate husband will get to fulfill his wife's ultimate fantasy."

The crowd again began applauding wildly as three slaves were led to the first three benches on the track in front of the stage. Two of the slaves were female, one was male. All three were totally hairless. Their bodies were well-greased so that the lights reflected off of them as they were led into place by large security officers.

"Those chains are a bit of overkill,"

missy thought to herself.

"They are way larger than they have to be. And that collar would hold back an elephant. Doesn't anyone realize how fakey those look?"

She raised her arm to point down at the slaves as she spoke. As she did so, her own chains rattled and caught her attention. "God!" she exclaimed as she suddenly realized,

"Their chains are smaller than mine!"

She smiled and said aloud, "But the crowd is eating it up. William, you are a master showman."

Six more very muscular security people walked out to place the three slaves into their restraints. Two female officers removed the chains and collar from the male slave and dragged him kicking and screaming to the second bench. He continued to struggle as they pushed him to his knees and strapped his ankles in place. They then pushed his knees slightly more apart and pulled the leather straps across the back of his shins. They next pushed his body over the main part of the bench and pulled the wide leather strap across his back. He began wildly flailing his arms, but with his legs and body already held tightly in place, there was little he could do to prevent the two women from pulling his hands down to the front restraint bar and strapping them in place.

One of the security women then turned a small metal wheel beneath the high portion of the bench, raising it another two or three inches into the air. The result was that his body was pulled even tighter and his ass was tilted further up into the air. His balls could be seen hanging down beneath his ass, but fear had evidently caused so much shrinkage that his prick was nowhere to be seen. The two women, as well as the security man who had led the slave out, then walked away and circled around behind the stage.

The remaining two pairs of security men synchronized their actions as they put the two female slaves into the first and third benches.

"They had to have practiced that,"

missy thought as she watched from above.

"The chains hit the ground at the same time. Every restraint was closed exactly together. They even twisted the adjustment wheels exactly the same amount... and the two girls are different heights."

Missy began to wonder how much of the first slave's attempts to resist were also rehearsed. She even wondered if these slaves were truly being punished or had been hired for the event with some promise of special treatment or time off. "Nothing in my world is ever what it seems to be," she said softly to herself. "Or has it always been that way and now that I am just a slave I can see things the way they truly are?"

"Let's bring out our first three winners," William said grandly from the stage as three men walked out from behind the stage. Each one stood behind one of the three slaves. "Remember," William instructed, "five swats and then you put the paddle back on the hook." He waited for the three to pick up their paddles and get into position before saying, "Begin."

The three wielding the paddles had obviously not rehearsed. It also looked like they had little, if any, previous experience swinging the paddles. The one striking the male slave was barely hitting him. Perhaps he hadn't thought about the fact that he might be spanking a male's ass rather than a female's and it bothered him. In any case, he just didn't put his weight into the swing. One of the other men seemed to be swinging about right, and the third was swinging way too hard.

All three slaves were responding slightly differently to the swats. The first girl screamed loudly with each swat; the male made loud grunting noises; the third girl, who was being slammed the hardest, responded to each hit with a loud "Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh."

As the winners were setting the paddles back in place, William's voice once again came over the speakers. "The rest of our participants waiting back stage might want to listen carefully to this," he began. "I guess we should have done some instruction and practice in the art of swinging a wooden paddle." The crowd laughed quietly in response.

A stagehand hustled across the stage and handed him a paddle the same size and shape as those on the spanking benches. "First off," he said, "you need to hold the paddle relaxed in your hand so that the force of the blow doesn't transfer to your arm." He swung the paddle at an imaginary target. "But at the same time, you need to hold it firmly enough to transfer the force of the swing to the recipient's ass."

He laughed as he held the paddle before him. "And how do you know where that sweet spot is?" he asked. "Use your ears. Listen to the smack. You want just enough to make it pop." He held the paddle up and swung it through the air, "You might think that swinging it harder would make it hurt even worse, but that isn't always true. With a solid paddle like this, if you hit too hard, you trap air between the surface of the paddle and the person's flesh. That lessens the transfer of force to the ass-- that's why some paddles have holes in them."

He swung the paddle once more, "And even if that doesn't happen and you actually transfer the full effect of a really hard swing, you will more than likely overload the nerves in the ass. You might do a lot of damage, but you won't cause near the amount of pain that a lesser hit would cause. Remember you are trying to hurt, not harm, the slave. You want a chastised slave, not a damaged slave."

Three more winners walked out from behind the stage. This time two of them were women, one was not much more than a teenager while the other appeared to be at least fifty years old. The male was somewhere in between. When they picked up the paddles, the grandmother looking lady turned to the crowd and said, "I taught high school for thirty-five years before I retired and every day I dreamed of doing this to some of my disruptive students. This is for all you active teachers out there who have that same dream."

The crowd roared with laughter and applause. "OK, OK," William said from the stage. "Remember five strokes, then put the paddles back."

The youngest woman was in the first position. She seemed to know how to swing a paddle and the female slave yelped very loudly with each strike. Her "Aieee" became louder, longer, and higher-pitched with each strike.

The granny was swatting the male slave. She also seemed to know her way around a paddle and applied each swat very deliberately. Her smile grew wider and wider with each stroke. By the third strike, the male slave's grunts had become actual cries of pain.

The man in the third position looked much more amateurish in his delivery, but the loud "Smack!" of the paddle proclaimed that he was still able to strike very efficiently. The crowd could see that the young female slave's ass was growing very, very red under the assault. Some, sitting in the right place in the stands or directly behind the slave in the ground seats, could also see that moisture was collecting between the slave's legs. Her cries of "Oh, oh, oh, OH, OH!" also hinted at the fact that she was most likely a painslut who was sexually excited by the spanking."

After all three had finished their five swats, they replaced the paddles and returned to behind the stage. As they walked back three more winners-- two men and one woman-- were walking out to take their place. The woman who was first to walk out, stopped behind the male slave. The two men then took their places behind the female slaves.

This time, there was no instruction from William. The three just picked up the paddles and began swatting. The woman had perfect form with the paddle. On each strike, the male cried out loudly, "Aahhh. Aahhh. Aahhh. Aahhh. Aahhhiieeee!" She smiled as she heard him break into an almost female cry of pain. The two men, meanwhile, delivered their swats. The first female slave continued to scream in pain while the third continued her noisy journey toward a possible orgasm.

When the five swats were completed, the three returned back stage and three different winners took their place. This time all three wielding the paddles were women. They did not all begin swinging together, but instead the second two waited patiently while the first finished off her slave.

The first woman stood slightly to the side and swung the paddle with both hands, but she had very accurate control over her force and aim. The paddle landed squarely on both ass cheeks with a resounding "Thwack!" on every smack. The female slave twisted and thrashed in the restraints, but was unable to avoid the paddle. Her final "Aiiiieeeeeeeeee!" echoed through the stands for several moments after the paddle had been returned to its hook.

The woman left, leaving the other two standing with their paddles. The second woman then began swatting the male slave. She also swung two-handed, but her aim was not quite as good and the timing of the swats way too close together. Despite this, the male slave was crying out a very high-pitched "Aiieee" by the time the paddle had bounced off his ass for the fifth time.