A few hours later, as dark was falling, a group of guards came and motioned for the Americans to follow them. They escorted them, barefoot, clad in their T shirts and sarongs, through the camp, towards a building about the size of a basketball court.
As they approached, Priya could hear a loud buzz of voices. She didn't think that was a good sign. Inside, were several rows of chairs on the bare dirt floor, occupied by 50-60 people, mostly male. About half the spectators were in uniform, ominously among them, the caner who had so effectively administered their recent brutal punishment. There were also a few dozen people in civilian clothes, including the interpreter Thura, from the archaeology dig, the judge who had sentenced them, the prosecutor's assistant Baran and others whom, Priya guessed, were local officials.
This didn't look good-whatever was going to happen was clearly going to be a public spectacle and, likely, would not be pleasant for the American women.
There was a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles as they entered, which escalated as they were marched to stand before a table at which were seated Warden Noba, Dr. Fong and the three inspectors from the Ministry.
The Warden gestured for silence and the crowd noise slowly subsided to a dull roar. She turned to address the Americans, "I have served in the Ministry of Justice for almost 20 years and never have I seen such a spectacle. You were arrested, convicted and justly punished for your bad behavior. Yet, only two days later, you are violating the rules of this camp with your disgusting lesbian sluttishness. The Trabbian justice system will not and cannot tolerate such contempt for the regulations. You have left me no choice but to sentence you each to the maximum penalty I am authorized to give, an additional 12 strokes."
The crowd roared its approval. Someone yelled, "Flog the American sluts!" There were more cheers.
At the prospect of such a horrible torture, all four of the women began wailing piteously. Despite the pain such a movement caused, Priya got down on her knees and begged, "Oh, God, no, I can't take that." Jennifer looked like she was going to throw up.
The Warden held up her hand, waiting for the women to stop. She continued, "However, Dr. Fong has insisted that he cannot allow any further infliction on your buttocks so soon after the last one. Waiting until you heal further is not an option, since our government wants trash like you off our soil as soon as possible."
The crowd booed, disappointed that they might not see the spectacle of pain they had come for. Priya allowed herself a tiny flicker of hope that they would be spared this terrible punishment. Of course, the Warden soon dashed that feeble hope. "I have consulted with my colleague," she glanced at the senior inspector, "and he has informed me that many years ago, this country practiced whipping of the back with the cat o'nine tails, as well as caning of the buttocks. Therefore, I sentence each of you to 24 lashes with the cat on your naked backs."
The women began wailing and pleading again at this equally horrible fate. The audience cheered and began chanting, "Whip them! Whip them hard!"
The chief inspector held up his hand to stop them. He continued, "Normally, that would end the matter. However, this is an administrative, rather than a judicial matter, so we have some leeway. We know that you Americans are very fond of reality shows on your television networks, so we are going to have our own reality show, like 'Survivor', right here tonight."
"What do we have to do?" Jennifer asked.
"Let me explain the rules. We will have various contests and games in which you will compete. Each one will have as a prize a reduction of your punishment by some number of lashes. I will keep score and at the end of the night, you will each receive 24 lashes minus your winnings."
Priya was cheered that there was some opportunity to reduce the punishment, though she feared she wouldn't have much of chance in these games against the more athletic Jennifer.
The inspector continued, "If you are unwilling to participate, then our friend who did such a good job on your buttocks the other day will be happy to apply himself to your backs right now with this instrument of pain." The #2 inspector pulled a cat o' nine tails out of a canvas bag and held it up, to loud cheers from the audience.
He beckoned the women closer to inspect it. It was a fearsome instrument, consisting of a two foot long wooden handle with nine braided hemp ropes, each about three feet long and the thickness of a man's little finger. The ends of the ropes were sealed with wax to prevent them from fraying. Priya had no doubt that this instrument was quite capable of inflicting horrible damage on sensitive female skin and knew there was no option but to put forth her best efforts to escape as many lashes as possible.
"What type of contests and games did you have in mind?" Susan asked.
"Ones that will challenge your abilities in the one area we know you sluts excel-sex," the chief replied.
Priya's heart sank, though she wasn't surprised that this was the type of game these Trabbian sadists would have in mind. Even though the past few days had expanded her sexual horizons, she was still far from experienced, certainly less so than the others, and still somewhat shy and it was clear that their performances would be in front of this large and raucous audience. But, what choice did she have? That whip looked brutal and she wasn't going to take any more lashes than she had to.
It seemed her colleagues had come to the same conclusion, as none of them, not even the usually vocal Sarah, raised a voice in protest.
"Alright, ladies, time for the first game," the chief inspector announced. "This will be a two person blow job contest. Each contestant will pick one male member of the audience and, using only their mouth, will try to make him come as quickly as possible then swallow the product. The winner will get 4 lashes off her sentence. The loser, assuming they also complete the task and swallow, will get 2 lashes off. To make the match more interesting, the audience member who lasts longest will get a 500 piaster bonus. So it will be the skill of the American prisoners vs the will of the Trabbian men. May the best one win. First up will be Prof Gelden and Priya. Let's get this underway."
The chief inspector held out a bowl containing a number of small pieces of paper. "These contain the names of all the male audience members. Pick one, Susan," he ordered.
