Andropia - Run

This is 100% fantasy.

In real life we should never be cruel or disrespectful towards anyone, especially if they are vulnerable in any way.

Loving, consensual sex is wonderful.

Coercive or non-consensual sex is illegal and harmful.

It shouldn't be so, but reading about such things can be erotic. That isn't to condone them or to encourage anyone to act in a similar fashion.

The characters in my stories are all over 18 and the settings are pure fiction.

Topics

Fictional land where men hold all the cards

Caning

Ceremony

Medical

Fear

Mistreatment

Punishments

Ritual

Judicial

Virgin

Hymen

Surgery

ANDROPIA

I'd spent a difficult morning preparing and supervising no fewer than 10 Statutory Consummations. For anyone unfamiliar with Andropian law, Statutory Consummation (SC) is the Ceremony that marks when a female reaches adulthood and becomes a Citizen of the State. SCs have to be performed within a sennight of her 18th birthday. Performed in public, and watched by anyone who desires, as long as they too are 18 or over.

One at a time the naked young virgins - known as Does - are led into the public arena, made to stand before a Chaise de Service (a wooden bench, about tree foot high with a padded top) and ordered to bend over it with their legs wide apart. To the audience, seated around the arena, nothing is unseen. What they cannot view directly they can see on giant wall-mounted screens.

In time-honoured tradition, as soon as she's in position over the Chaise, the eager spectators cry out, "Call the Stag".

Stags are men of high birth, well endowed and highly respected in Andropian society. Their role is to perform the Consummation on behalf of the State.

The Stag enters wearing a long black cloak and a black hood.

He removes the cloak with a flourish but retains the hood so that his Doe cannot recognise him.

Underneath the cloak he too is naked, save for an impressive leather codpiece.

My function at this stage is confer on the Stag the right to proceed with the Consummation, which I do in ceremonial language, to loud acclaim from those watching. Then, with dramatic effect, standing in front of the Doe, I remove the Stag's codpiece and reveal to her the instrument of her impending deflowerment.

It proved to be a difficult morning. During my routine pre-SC gynae examinations - important to ensure that the young women are in a fit condition to receive their SC - three of the Does had an almost impenetrable hymenal membrane obstructing the opening to their vaginas. Two complained that they were about to start their periods. Two more resisted examination and had to be restrained.

Hymenal membranes are a part of life and rarely cause a problem. But this morning I'd had seriously to consider surgical intervention; a procedure known as hymenectomy, meaning the SC would have to be delayed for at least a week. In the end I decided on one hymenectomy, and for the other two a procedure known as easing, using dilators, to stretch the vaginal opening; I was running well behind schedule. I was not in a good mood.

Neither of the girls' who'd said they were on their periods was in flow, so their protestations were unsuccessful.

Resisters are not uncommon and are dealt with swiftly and decisively. After calling for assistance they were both restrained and I proceeded with my examination. In the literature that the Department for Women send out to girls to notify them of their SC it is explained - in bold letters - that refusal to co-operate is punishable by up to six strokes of the cane, administered in public, immediately following their SC. I am lenient in this respect and usually limit punishments to no more than two strokes.

By the time I'd confirmed the fitness of the nine remaining girls (having discharged the one on whom I'd had to operate), there had been little time remaining to settle the Does in the ante-room where they would wait to be called for their SC. Once they're there I tell them they'll be summoned in alphabetical order by their first name. I advise them to listen to instructions and to do exactly as they're told, but no more.

"Each SC takes about 25 minutes," I explain.

"I try to make sure everything proceeds swiftly. There'll be a short parade while I walk you round the arena and the spectators get a look at you. Then you'll stand before the Chaise de Service and one of my assistants will tell you to bend over it while he positions you correctly for your Stag. There are restraints but we prefer not to use them".

I go on to describe what will happen once the Stag is called, and how the Doe must keep perfectly still for him. The Consummation itself takes between 10 - 12 minutes, after which the girls are paraded a second time and returned to join the others.

Today, things did not go according to plan. The assistant, who usually positions Does over the Chaise, was absent and I had to do that myself. Two of the Does, on first seeing their Stag's penis, started to struggle and had to be restrained.

To make matters worse, the audience was particularly bawdy, shouting obscenities throughout and disrupting what should be an orderly process. Two audience members actually attempted to enter the arena. Then a Doe was brought into the arena prematurely, as I was caning one of the girls who'd resisted. It was a bit of a shambles, made worse by a Stag tearing the vagina of one of the girls whose introitus I'd had to stretch using dilators. She needed stitching afterwards, making me even more behind schedule.

Most of the girls were fine after their ordeal and only needed a contraceptive injection and a shot of spermicide inside their vagina.

So all in all it hadn't been a good morning. I had paperwork to complete and if I was lucky I might just get a 15 minutes lunch break before heading off again to check on a Widows' Hostel, which I suspected of not maintaining residents' Sexual Services Records. Women under 60 who'd lost their husbands were required by law to live in Widows' Hostel, and to maintain their SSR, as evidence that they gave Service (had sexual intercourse) at least once every fortnight. Hostel managers were supposed to see to this but some didn't. At least it would be an easy afternoon for me. All I'd have to do would be to check the Hostel records and, possibly, interview some of the residents.

It was not to be. I'd barely set foot in the door when I was approached by Bill, one of my Assistants. "Mr Stevens... I'm so glad to see you. There's an emergency. I've had to reschedule your visit to Greengates Widows' Hostel. The Courts have just sentenced 12 lesbians to 18 strokes of the cane, each, followed by Public Service. They were caught living a communal life over near Littlecombe. It seems someone became suspicious and reported them to the Constabulary.

For those unfamiliar with the term, Public Service - or Pubic Service as it's often referred to - doesn't involve rubbish collection sweeping the streets or anything so benign. Public Service is a punishment meted out by the Courts, to women. It dates back to feudal times when, if a serf or other lowly female displeased her Lord, he could order her to be taken to a Public Place, stripped naked and made to give service to any passing male.

"Have you issued the Notice?" I asked Bill.

"Yes Sir. I've booked Dystopia Women's Centre for 4.00 pm. I'm afraid it doesn't leave you much time to prepare. The Notice has gone out far and wide. I expect there'll be quite a lot coming."

Sentences that include Public Service are highly popular. Men turn up in large numbers. With 12 lesbians involved it could be well over a hundred. I needed to act fast.

As I had for the Does that morning, I'd need to examine all 12 of the women to confirm their fitness to undergo the punishment the Court had ordered. We would need a dozen Chaise de Service; there would be the tickets and payments to arrange (a small fee was charged for entry). Luckily, Bill was on top of matters and had most of the things I'd need ready for me to take with me. What he didn't have was access to my cane cupboard, where I keep the canes I'mrequired to use for Judicial purposes. When I looked at the Court Order it specified that I was to use a Grade 5 Judicial Cane on all 12 of the women. Grade 5 Canings were rare. The length and weight of a Grade 5 cane was designed to cause maximum and lasting pain, without actually cutting the skin. 12 bare female bottoms were going to look very different when I was finished with them; and that was only the start. There was Public Service to follow! It wouldn't be just their bottoms that were sore when this day was over.

When I arrived at the Women's Centre I went straight to my surgery and prepared the instruments I'd need for the examinations; 12 of everything. At least this time I was unlikely to encounter a hymen. Nor would I have to do everything myself; I had two assistants and there would be several guards present in the hall to keep order.

A good cane needs to be looked after. The two I'd brought with me couldn't have been used for years. The key is to use a little linseed oil every now and again. It keeps them supple. Pouring a few drops into a dish I used a rag to soak the oil up and then applied the rag to the canes. Give them an hour for the oil to soak it in and they would be ready for use.

My next task was to make myself known to the twelve women and tell them what to expect. They were all together in a room along the corridor from my surgery. An attendant opened the locked door and showed me into a small room, completely bare of furniture, carpet or other furnishings, and with just one adjoining toilet. Fear of punishment can have a marked effect on continence, and one was not enough. When the women saw me they erupted with indignation and questions. "They have no right." "What is happening?" "Maisie is sick." "The guards were brutes." "We've had nothing to eat. Just water." "Two of the men assaulted us."

With so many shouting at once I'm sure there were complaints I didn't hear. "Quiet please ladies... let me speak. I'm the Officer of the Court responsible for events now you've been convicted. I'm going to tell you what is going to happen next."

The noise died down and I waited till I had everyone's attention.

"You've all been convicted of gross indecency and of breaches of the Women's Rights and Responsibilities Act 1994... Section 4 to be precise, under which, among other things, you are required to abide by the commands of a designated male Citizen of Andropia... usually a father or husband... and to be available as required to 'Give Service'... a legal term that includes sexual intercourse and other sexual acts with men. And Section 4 which makes sexual acts with other females, other than under the direction of your designated male, a Category 5 Offence. "

Uproar. Pandemonium. Mayhem.

"That is the law; you have been tried and convicted," I shouted above the melee.

"Now listen to me. It's my job to check that you're... the term is 'Fit for Punishment'. What that means is that I need to do health checks on each of you. You'll be brought to my surgery one by one, in alphabetical order. Is that clear?"

There followed silence, then mumbling and a couple of yesses. "From now on you won't wear any clothes... nothing at all... do you understand?"

More uproar and loud protests. "Let me make it clear... you do as you're told or I have authority to add to your sentences. I can also reduce them for good behaviour... so it's very much in your interests right now not to give me trouble".

My first patient, Anya, was an attractive 24 year old brunette. Her records told me she was married but had deserted her husband a year ago. Everything proceeded normally, with me checking her BP, pulse, temperature, oral health, etc. I listened to her chest, felt her breasts and abdomen for lumps or any other abnormal signs, and found nothing untoward; in fact she seemed in perfect health.

"How are things as regards your feminine health?" I asked. "Are your periods regular?"

'Yes, she answered.

"When are you due?".

"In two weeks... Sir".

"This may seem an unlikely question in the circumstances but when did you last have sexual relations with a man?"

"Two months ago. With my husband. He forced himself on me. It hurt for weeks."

"I see," I said. "I need to examine you... externally and internally. Climb up into the chair would you," I said, as I donned a pair of surgical gloves.

What she'd told me was undoubtedly true. I gently parted her pubic hair to reveal her vulva. There was a healed tear at the posterior rim of her introitus, and signs of earlier damage. The vulva was healthy enough but might tear again under pressure. Public Service posed a serious risk.

Reaching for a speculum, I applied lubrication to the instrument and around Anya's vaginal opening, before carefully inserting it. Anya looked uncomfortable but didn't protest. "I'll open the blades now Anya... just so I can see inside. Are you ready?"

As the blades opened I examined the vaginal walls, which looked fine. The rugae (corrugations that allow the vagina to expand when penetrated by a penis) looked fine too; well formed as I would expect of any married woman her age, who was used to having regular sexual intercourse. Everything was as it should be.

After giving her a contraceptive injection and a shot of spermicide, which also acts as a lubricant, I helped her out of the chair.

"Well... Anya. I can see you've been ill-used at some time, and it's not entirely healed. I'm going to use my discretion and reduce your time in Public Service to just 30 minutes. I'll give you this red wrist-band to wear, and the attendants will know to look out for rough-play. Off you go now and I'll see you later".

I worked my way through all twelve women. Only one was having her period, and I discharged her for a week. Two others showed evidence of trauma similar to Anya's and I made adjustments accordingly.

As is so often the case some of the women had been sexually abused while in custody. Four had heavy deposits of fresh semen inside their vagina, suggesting that they'd been mis-used by several men and that the abuse was very recent; probably that morning. One told me she'd been made to have sex with three of the guards, one after the other. It wasn't unusual for me to be told such things; and it was likely to be true in my experience.

One of the women was the mother of two others. She told me she'd gone to live in the Commune to escape her husband, whom she described as a sexual predator. None of them was a lesbian she told me. I felt sorry for them. There was nothing I could do to have her and her daughters' convictions overturned, but I could go easy with the cane. It was the best I could do.

On examination, I could see immediately that the mother had suffered significant trauma to her vulva and vagina. She was one of those who had fresh semen inside her. "I offered myself to save my daughters," she told me with tears in her eyes. "There were three of them and they were arguing who would have them".

Having completed 12 examinations in a little over 90 minutes I was ready to turn my attention to the facilities where the punishments were to be carried out. The women were all ready and waiting in a small ante-room adjoining the Hall where the punishments would shortly be taking place. One of the unfortunate things in that particular venue was that they would be able to hear everything, and that there was nowhere to send them after their caning but back to join the others. For the one who went last it would be particularly upsetting having to witness the others returning in a distressed state, probably sobbing and with the cane marks across their bottom. I decided to change the order of the canings to spare those I'd given wrist-bands. They would be caned before the others.

I could already hear a rumble of male voices from outside where men were queuing for admission. Peeping out of a window I estimated there were close to 100 of them; there was still 30 minutes to go before I started!

I'd presided over similar punishments and it was always ugly. The women were caned, and returned to join the others; then, when the canings were over, they were all brought back in, positioned over the benches, their legs spread apart, while the men jeered and misbehaved; excited by the orgy that lay ahead of them. By this stage they were exposing themselves, making lewd comments and, some, openly masturbating. It was a terrifying sight that made me feel a little ashamed. There might even be women spectators, there of their own volition, or brought there by a husband or father, wanting to remind them of the penalties they faced if they fell out of line. The guards had strict instructions to step in if any of them were being abused.

My cane - and a spare - are ready for me on the desk where I keep the paperwork I'll need as I proceed; an attendant is making adjustments to the caning bench. It needs lowering a little and it has to be midway between two footprints on the floor, denoting where the women should place their feet. Once the bench is sited correctly it has to be fixed to the floor to prevent displacement. Then the cameras have to be adjusted and checked. The huge screens at the back of the room will show live footage: one at a distance, of me and the unfortunate canee; and one a close up of the canees bottom, always framed at such an angle as to include her vulva.

A tray has to be placed underneath the bench. This is to catch any seepage. It's quite common for canees to secrete or leak a little urine. I keep tissues to hand to wipe them when that happens; and always offer one to them as they get up to leave.

The clamour outside was growing louder by the minute. When we were ready to start one of the Attendants came up to me. "One hundred and twenty one," he told me. Not as many as I'd feared, but a lot all the same.

"Make sure none of them come back for seconds," I told him. If every one of the 121 men took his turn then, on average, that could mean most of the women being fucked around a dozen times. But of course, that was an average. The men were sure to favour some of the women over others.

"Bring them forward 11 at a time. That way the spread will be as even as we can make it. And don't forget to withdraw the women with red wrist-bands after 30 minutes," I added as he was going to open the doors.

The men flooded in, eager to witness a rare spectacle. The attendant addressed them sternly, saying they were to remain silent during the proceedings, to stay in their seats, and behave with respect towards the women, whose punishment was severe enough without them making things worse.

Then he explained that the canings would be administered first, one at a time, and the women allowed to leave the area to recover.

"There will be a twenty minute interval between the last caning and the women returning for the second part of their punishment," he told them.

"During that interval the Chaise de Service will be made ready. There will be 11 in all. I will call you forward 11 at a time. You will each pick a woman, do the business you're here for, and leave. There will be penis wipes next to each Chaise. Please clean yourselves up quickly, amend your dress, and leave the building as soon as you've done those things."

I began with Anya. An attendant went to fetch her. A moment later the door opened again and the attendant lead her into the hall. I'm waiting for her, cane in hand. She's looking very scared, aware of her audience, acutely aware of her nakedness. She goes to cover her pubic region and the attendant snaps at her, "Hands to your sides at all times unless I tell you otherwise."

Her tears start to flow as he leads her to the bench and makes her stand, with her feet placed on the foot markers. She looks momentarily at me, standing with the cane flexed between my hands, and shudders. It's the moment when, to my shame, I get the beginnings of an erection that will only grow bigger as I progress.