Article 17

This story is a work of fiction, written for my partner (hence the first person perspective) who did compete in bikini fitness competition at the age of 40. It is the first part of 7, enjoy.

Eleven months. Eleven months of training, dieting, sacrifice, all for some clumsy fucking blonde to ruin it all. I look in the mirror, even now having seen the transformation develop day by day I'm still shocked at my body. Lean and muscular, flat toned stomach with clearly defined abs that I'd worked so hard to get, I'd never looked this good, not in my teens, twenties or thirties, now at 40 I have a body I'm really proud of...and it was all ruined...ruined.

Two minutes... two minutes until I go on stage for my solo poses and I have a big white smear of untanned flesh running from my left shoulder to my right hip. Chantel was so apologetic for spilling her drink over I, I didn't believe it for a second. Even without the burning sensation that felt like bleach instead than vodka or whatever the dozy bitch claimed it was, the smirk behind the 'apologetic' smile said it all - it was no accident, that bitch had deliberately sabotaged me.

No time, no time to re-apply my fake tan, patching wouldn't work, it'd be obvious, even if I had an hour, never mind 2 minutes...I can't go out like this...fuck...

I see a poster, next weeks rodeo show, I watched a rehearsal earlier, cowboy hats, boots, waistcoats, bullet belts...bullet belts... I run out of the changing room down the corridor, no time even to take off my 'stripper' 4 inch heels. I reach the door I am after, I look like I've made a middle aged storeman's day running up to him made up dressed in only a bikini and heels.

"Don't lock up!" I yell and dart into the room I sweep past him frantically looking around the room...cowboy outfit to the right, I grab the bullet belt and hat and dash out of the room.

"Hey!" The storeman yells but I just breeze past him.

"I'm just borrowing it - I owe I one!" I run back towards the stage and meet the stage hand halfway.

"You're on, where have you been!?!?"

I fling the bullet belt over my shoulder, hoping it covers my bleached tan marks, flick the cowboy hat on my head and stride out onto stage.

Chapter 2

I come off stage exhilarated but exhausted, adrenaline got me through, I have no idea if I got away with it, the crowd seemed animated, but that could just be the novelty, or were they just mocking me laughing at me like a freak show? I sit down and can't bear to look up, feeling of dread that I've just made a fool of myself. I'm desperate for a cigarette so I head disconsolately away from the stage. I bump into someone lugging a big casket knocking him aside. He clatters into one of the other competitors gear, he curses and i apologise helping him pick up the scattered clothes, make up and shoes, I pick up one of the shoes, grabbing the clear see through stiletto heel, it flexed as I lifted it, I looked at it closer, the heel was cracked across at the top near the sole.

"Whose gear is this?" I ask

"Chantal's" says one of the competitors without looking, too preoccupied with applying final touches to her make up.

Chantal? That blonde bitch...I think of her smirk...fuck her I think and tidy the shoes along with the rest of the gear, no one seemed to notice the storeman just shrugged and hurried along. I wonder whether I should say anything...no, fuck her she deliberately tried to ruin my chances, at worst I were just negligent not telling her, besides no one could prove I knew the shoe was damaged, it might be fine anyway as far as I know... I slip away hoping nobody noticed me.

The heel snaps half way through Chantal's solo, everyone gasps in shock as she tumbled to the floor spraining her ankle, she hobbles off in tears. I have I hands over my mouth, looking like shock but in truth I're hiding my smile.

3rd place... bugger, I thought I'd have a chance at 3rd

2nd place... shit, still a podium place on my first competition was stretching it a bit

1st place... I've won!

Chapter 3

Everything is a blur, going on stage to receive my first prize, the mumbled words of thanks I spoke, the applause, the photos, it's all hard to take in. The champagne flows as do the congratulations and good cheer. Long into the after party the chairman comes up to me.

"I need to have a word with you", he says

"Ok" I reply not quite sure what's behind the sternness of his voice.

"Please follow me" he says

A guard opens a door for the chairman and follows me through the door, it's a long corridor leading away from the reception room.

No one says a word, all I can hear is my heels clicking on the stone floor. Away from the party I feel awfully underdressed. At the end of the corridor is a large door another guard standing by, why the need for so much security? The second guard opens the door and the chairman walks straight through, I hesitate, sensing something is wrong here, but the first guard places a large firm hand on my back and guides me through.

The room opens out into a big open space with a large desk at one end, the chairman walks ahead and takes his seat, the middle of 5. A door at the other end of the room opens and 4 more men enter. They take their seats by the side of the chairman, I recognise them, they are the competition judges. What the fuck is going on? My nerves get the better of Me

"What the hell is going on?

"It seems we have a problem" the chairman states

"What problem?" I say

"Crystal, it appears has broken her ankle."

"Oh, that, that's awful", I say, hoping it's convincing.

"It is."the chairman replies, "only that's not the only problem." He pauses, awaiting a reaction. "It appears her shoes were sabotaged, would you know anything about that?"

"N...no, no why would I?"

"You and Crystal had an altercation, I understand after she accidentally spilt something on you."

"That was no accident!" I blurt out, regretting it almost immediately.

"Is that so? So you had nothing to do with Crystal's broken heel?"

"No!" I feel my cheeks blushing

"Guard, bring him in"

The door to the left opens and my heart sinks when the storeman is ushered in. The words barely register with Me as the storeman tells them how I knocked him into Crystals gear and then replaced the broken shoe. Had I known it was broken? Yes he said. Had I replaced the shoes without saying anything? Yes. Why hadn't he said anything? He thought they were my own shoes.

I stand there stunned, the bastard!

"Well Kate what do you have to say?"

"That's not true, he's a fucking liar."

A big screen behind the judges bursts to life, my face filling the screen, it's a promotional interview I'd down before the competition.

"I've worked so hard" I say on screen. "I'll do anything to succeed."

"What, that was just an interview! I turn to the promotions director to the right of the chairman, "You, you told me to say that!"

"Enough", the chairman states "I think we have heard enough. Whether an accident or not You clearly knew the shoe was broken and thus willfully sabotaged a fellow competitor, not only did your actions result in serious physical injury, you also end up winning the competition. We can't allow that to stand but stripping you of the title will bring shame on our competition, our whole organisation."

"We'll lose all our sponsors, it'll take years to recover" the promotions director says

"There is another option" the finance director says. I never trusted this guy, rumours were he was fucking Crystal.

"Article 17?" The operations director says, the finance director nods solemnly.

"Article 17 has not been invoked for 20 years." The chairman responds

"We've never had a someone put a fellow competitor in hospital and win the fucking competition before either!" The finance director responds tartly.

"Hmm.." the chairman mulls

"Are we all in agreement?" The chairman asks.

The finance director, promotions director and operations director all nod in consent.

"And you Bruce?" He says turning to the technical director who to that point had not said a word

"I agree" he says with a look that chills me.

"What the fuck is article 17!" I shout.

"Article 17," The chairman begins, "is an alternative to disqualification. You would keep your title, and no one would hear of your actions, in exchange for an alternative punishment."

"What alternative?"

"You would be imprisoned here, at the chateau, for a week, during which you would submit yourself to us for any punishments we deemed fit. You won't be permanently harmed and it is of your choice."

"What do you mean punishments?" I ask

"T is not of your concern, your choice is either a week of repentance, or we shall strip you of the title and tell everyone...family, peers, police...everyone what I did, you'll never compete again, everyone will know you as a liar and a cheat."

"You can't do that, that's not fair."

"Is it fair that Crystal has a broken ankle and may herself never be able to compete again? Is it fair that all the competitors and organisation suffer the shame of your actions? Anyway fair or not, it's your choice, a week's punishment here and you keep your title and no one knows, or we denounce your win and tell everyone what you did"

I can't face the shame, it's not fair, I earned this trophy I deserved it...

"I'll take the punishment." I mumble.

The 5 board members stare back, I can't read their faces, a spread of shock and malevolent intent, the chairman remained impassive.

"Are You sure? There is no going back from this point"

"Yes" I say, not feeling sure at all, but fuck them, why should I lose everything.

"So be it, I'll need you to sign a declaration." The finance director pulls one from his bag and passes it to the chairman. He motions me forward and hands me the lengthy document, like a contract. I walk up to the desk, and take the offered pen, I don't bother reading the document but struggle to stop my hand shaking as I sign on the dotted line.

"Guards, prepare her for 50 lashes."

The guards walk towards me, the guard who escorted me with the chairman taking hold of my arm, he looks at the chairman who gestures up to the ceiling, he nods in understanding and walks me back to the centre of the room. Once there he turns me facing away from the board members. Another guard walks towards us heavy duty leather cuffs in his hands, he passes one to the other guard and then taking a leg each they fix them tightly round each ankle. The cuffs are well padded but they still feel tight. Why do they need such heavy duty cuffs? This has suddenly got serious and you consider changing your mind. 'No' I admonish myself, I can do this, I'm not giving everything up.

"Sit down" the guard says. I'm confused but do so. "Raise your arms" again I comply still slightly dazed at how I'd got into this situation.

Again the guards take one side each, fastening my wrists in strong leather cuffs, this time thought the cuffs are connected by a short heavy chain.

The main guard pushes me back so I'm lying on my back in the floor, he then pulls my arms above my head and attached the chain to a ring bolted to the floor. He then nods to the other guard who flicks a switch over by the wall next to the stage. I hear a motor and mechanical noise above me, I look up and see a heavy metal chains lowering down above me. When low enough to reach the guard grabs the chains and guides them down towards my feet. I look down and see the guard attaching a chain to d-rings fixed on the outside of each ankle cuff. After testing they are secure he gives a thumbs up to the other guard who pulls a lever then flicks the switch, the motor starts and the chains raise again.

It's almost hypnotic watching my feet and legs lifting in front of me, a few feet up and I start to feel my ass lifting off the floor, then my back, then as my back lifts off the floor my head lifts and once again I'm facing the board. I feel my hair fall free as I'm lifted off the floor, then the slack on the chain around my wrists is taken up until finally only my finger tips are in contact with the floor. Another switch is flicked and I feel my legs parting, I try to resist it, clamping my legs together in doing so it lifts me higher off the floor, it I can't fight the gravity and my legs being parted long and my legs are forced apart 2/3 feet. The motor stops and the guard walks behind me, he undoes my bikini top and then my bikini bottoms peeling them away from my body rendering me naked and exposed.

I'm left there hanging and see the second guard reaches up behind the stage and grabs a long thin whip, he hands the whip to the first guard who slowly walks behind me.

"You may begin" mr Richards's says.

I hear the faint whoosh in the air an instant before the whip slashes down between my legs. The pain is searing.

The guard whips me again, I scream and thrash in my bonds, again the whip strokes down on my poor defenceless bald pussy, and again, I'm panting loudly bracing for the next strike, the faint speeding whoosh immediately followed by a burning stinging pain.

I close my legs, it requires me to lift myself further in the air. The board simply look on patiently amused, I can already feel my muscles trembling with the effort, I can't hold it much longer, my thighs are tiring. Then i feel the guard's hands pushing between my thighs, he eases them apart and I'm powerless to stop him. I hang there exhausted.

Whoosh! Crack

Whoosh! crack

Whoosh! crack

Whoosh! Crack

Whoosh! crack

The tears are welling in my eyes now and I moan and cry out at each strike.

"That's 10." Announces mr richards, "I'll allow you a short break after 25, guard, continue."

The next 15 are a blur of pain, cries, tears and sobs, I lose count and when the guard stops I realise I'm twitching in anticipation of the whip. My cunt is on fire, I strain my neck to look up at my pussy, I can see vivid red tendril marks stretching past my pubic bone. I lie there limply, I have no idea how long I lie there waiting but then with a nod from mr Richards the guard starts again.

My pussy is raw and each whip cuttingly burns, a couple of whips catch me clit, they are even worse they and cause me to thrash around much to the amusement of the board. The guard just waits for me to stop thrashing around and rest back in my bonds before whipping me again.

After 10 or so, (again I've lost count), I try to close my legs again. I strain and tense my legs but can't do it, my legs are too tired.

The last whips are terrible, unbearable...except I have to bear them, I have no choice.

When the 50 are over i can barely see the board through the tears in my eyes.

I'm lowered back to the floor, my limbs ache when the weight is taken off, but it's nothing compared to the raging, throbbing burn between my legs. My hands are uncuffed, then my ankles. I sit up and look at my pussy, it's red, swollen and heavily marked. I reach down and touch my pussy, it's so painful I can barely touch it, I cup it as gently as possible. Behind me the board leave, I'm glad they are behind me so I don't have to look at them.

The guard pulls me to my feet, just standing with my legs closed makes me wince. He leads me away, out of the room. I stagger uncertainty, pussy painfully rubbing with each step as I'm led away to my new home for the next 7 days...