The island was beautiful, a jewel sparkling in the Mediterranean, an idyllic
holiday spot for Western tourists. The temperature was warm and the sun shone brilliantly
from a cloudless sky on the dozen girls and women whose beauty matched that of their
surroundings. They sat in studious silence near to a large swimming pool, which would
normally provide a refreshing break from the heat of the sun.
However, for them, the swimming pool was the last thing on their minds,
unobtainable. Each pretty face was a picture of concentration, stress and misery, some had
tears staining their pretty cheeks - and there were several reasons for this.
Maybe it was that they sat uncomfortably on tiny wooden school-type chairs, or that
they, teenagers and women, were dressed in a travesty of scanty schoolgirl uniforms,
leaving little to the imagination. Their tiny see-through white blouses made obvious their
lack of bras, allowing each pair of breasts to jiggle and thrust provocatively and their
short black pleated skirts, barely more than wide belts, were measured to just cover their
bottoms when standing and reveal them when bending. Currently they had been instructed to
sit with their thighs parted to allow flashes of their dark intimate charms to anyone who
chose to look. Worst by far, though, they knew that their young Spanish ‘schoolmistress’
would ensure a painful and humiliating punishment if they failed the work she had set
them.
If possible, the situation was even worse for the two girls, Ginette and April, who
sat at the back of the class; one a blonde, one a brunette, both exceptionally beautiful.
This was their first day and the contrast with their previous freedom couldn’t have been
more acute.
Ginette sobbed silently, her tousled blonde head shaking. This morning she had been
a tourist enjoying her holiday, enjoying a break from the rigours of managing her bistro
in Chelsea. She hated any form of constraint - always refusing her boyfriend’s suggestions
of bondage games or the shame of undressing before doctors or in public changing rooms and
she also hated pain. Today she had been subjected to such things aplenty and worse than in
any nightmare. And it was continuing. Separated from her boyfriend, she and her friend
April were both helpless; she could do absolutely nothing about it except endure.
Awkwardly, she shifted her bottom on the cramped seat. Not only had the hard wood
turned her buttocks into what felt like two lumps of raw meat, but she had to clench
herself to hold in place a wad of chewing gum which she had been forced to thrust into her
anus – or be punished for dropping it!
Capping it all she knew she was now revealingly and humiliatingly dressed, without
any underwear, as a schoolgirl before many lecherous eyes and totally within the power of
a young Spanish vixen and an evil-looking, one-eyed slimy Spaniard who relaxed before
them, smoking.
She looked again at her tiny desk and the essay she must somehow complete, headed:
‘Describe my five worst character defects and also those of the English people
generally – be prepared to discuss in class.’
Suddenly she jumped, looking up as the Spanish girl ‘teacher’ shouted.
“Lynne, you thick, fucking cow, your work demonstrates a total misunderstanding of
local island politics. To the front, touch your toes!”
“Yes miss,” the woman whispered bitterly.
The pretty, dark-haired, bespectacled woman in her forties stood and then walked
unsteadily to the front, a tear trickling over her snub nose. As she bent over to assume
the demeaning position, her rounded bottom swimming into sight and bouncing under the
youngster’s hand, Ginette knew why had to put her all into her work. Stifling sobs, she
resumed writing, a part of her mind retreating, seeking refuge in the events which had put
her here.
***
"The accused will rise and face the judge," droned the wispy, high-pitched voice
from the eager, shining face of the court clerk earlier that day. A lizard-like tongue
licked thin lips as he regarded the tense faces of those before him.
The two girls and their boyfriends, Don and Mark, had looked somewhat out of place
in the courtroom's imposing majesty. Despite its size and the high ceiling it was rather
gloomy and sombre. This was enhanced by the ornate carved woodwork clinging to and
climbing up its walls depicting dragons being slain by valiant knights – justice being
done. The surroundings almost seemed to have absorbed the despair and fear of the
countless felons who must have stood there over the last few centuries looked somewhat out
of place in the courtroom's imposing majesty.
Now those walls oozed back those same dark feelings towards the two girls and men
in the dock. However, although the courtroom was ancient, its steadfast leaning to the
past was offset to some extent by trappings of the present - especially in the visitors’
gallery. This was filled with international newspaper and media people and positively
hummed with expectancy as they aimed their cameras at the accused.
With an inevitable scraping of chairs the four stood to be immediately enveloped in
the erratic glare of flash bulbs. The accused, all in their early twenties, were rather
unsteady on their feet and almost lost in the large court. All looked equally crestfallen.
The girls' hair delicately brushed their shoulders, bouncing silkily with their
movement. Both were notable for their slim, yet curvaceous beauty - and this was all the
more evident from the fact that all four were stark naked, their faces red with shame.
"Hands by your sides, stand upright look directly at the judge," the petty
official’s voice droned again.
Ginette automatically smoothed her blonde hair from her hot, pretty face. She
resisted a natural urge to cross her hands over her jutting 36B breasts, or the delicate
blonde v of her pubis. Was it only ten days ago that she’d had her bikini line so neatly
trimmed in the luxury of a health parlour, she pondered? She never guessed that it would
be revealed so publicly. Since boarding school she hadn’t undressed before anyone besides
Don, a couple of earlier boyfriends and doctors. She was quite well off, with influential
parents, and more used to power, fine clothes and sports-cars than this. She swallowed her
outrage and stifled a sob. Never in her young life could she have imaged the shame of
standing stark naked in such circumstances and before such an audience.
Somehow she managed to look at the creep on the podium above, seeing his eyes
boring into, devouring, her feminine charms. He was old and sinister, black eyes staring
from a skull-like face. Her heart pounded, her eyes wide, imploring. The judge cleared his
throat to speak.
"It is my solemn duty to inform you ..." his deep voice, sounding like oily sludge
trickling into a barrel, paused for a few seconds to deliberately extend the agony of
anticipation, "... that, as preliminarily determined by the police, you have been found
guilty as charged.”
Ginette's mind reeled. 'Guilty!' They had done nothing really wrong. Only the
intimidating surroundings and the even more intimidating fact that they were naked
prevented her or Don from saying anything. Indeed her mouth was too dry to speak. The
judge's deliberation continued.
"It is my decision that you shall, before leaving this court's jurisdiction, each
receive, publicly, six strokes of the cane on the bare buttocks ..." her brain
disjointedly, focused on key words; ‘publicly’, ‘caned’, ‘bare buttocks!’ They were to be
treated humiliatingly like school-kids, shamed. Her friends, everyone in the world would
read about it, share their shame too. She felt sick. Then somehow her fevered mind caught
up with the judge's deliberations. "And hence you shall be taken from this court to serve
in bondage to those whom you have offended against. This will be for an initial period of
one year subject to extension dependant upon behaviour. Send them down - for punishment."
The judge’s words brought her world to a jarring stop – she was to be given to the
hideous creeps who had been responsible for her being here! As those final, damning, words
trickled from the podium, Ginette saw, to her horror, a black curtain on one side of the
court being drawn back as if a theatre play was about to start. Indeed, she thought
abstractly, a drama probably was. Behind the curtain crouched several old, dark wooden
pillories and next to each stood muscular guards, stripped to the waist, menacingly
flexing long, thin, black canes.
"What! Please ... your honour, you cannot ..." her boyfriend, Don, managed to
croak.
"Prisoners have no right of reply to suggest what this court can or cannot do and
will thus remain silent," the sombre voice rumbled at them. Any further contravention will
add to the minimum sentences. Take them to be caned, please," he decreed, closing the
register in which he had recorded his decision.
Ginette's mind whirled, she would have fallen but for the firm grip of a wardress
on her arm, turning her around, making her breasts bounce wildly. The woman's other hand
rested possessively on the flexing, jiggling globes of her bottom pushing and patting. The
message was clear to the watchers – she belongs to us now. The hands steered her down
steps at the other side of the box and into the courtroom towards the waiting pillories.
The flash of the photographers' bulbs reflected on the walls made her wince. She
could imagine still and video pictures of her in all of her nude glory being dispatched
around the world – being seen by her family and friends back in England.
Her mind retreated back still further, trying to understand how they had been
convicted.
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