THE WEIGHT LOSS PROGRAMME

Chapter 5 - The Sunday Pillories

I stood and faced away from her, my eyes down. I put my hands behind my back. Although I was much stronger than she, I was obedient and docile. I had no choice. I was still on my chain. I felt handcuffs snapped on my wrists. She tightened them. Then shackles were snapped on my ankles, and also ratcheted tight. “I want these tight. You’ll get them off again in a few minutes, Peter” she said. “Now turn around, please”.

I shuffled around to face her. I kept my eyes down. “You may look up, Peter”. I looked up. She held out a small key. “This is the key to your collar, Peter. I’m going to take you off your chain. But don’t try anything. You are cuffed and shackled, nice and tight, and I have my shock baton ready for your balls! So don’t try anything! You won’t stand a chance! Escape is not possible here! Now, eyes down, and turn around again.”

I obeyed. I felt her hand lift up the padlock at the back of my neck. She unlocked the padlock. She opened the heavy collar, pulled it off me, and dropped it onto the grass.  I was so happy to get that off!

I felt her push something between my legs, against my balls. “This is my shock baton, Peter! I always carry it whilst I’m escorting a slave. Don’t give me any trouble, or you will regret it! I’m going to take you for your first strapping. The first of many!”

I trembled with fear. She pulled the baton away. “Good boy! Walk up towards the house. Keep your eyes down on the grass, straight ahead of you. No looking around! I’ll be right behind you!” she said.

I obediently turned and shuffled across the lawn towards the house. My wrists were tightly cuffed behind my back. She had locked the cuffs and shackles on me so tight that they were hurting me. I was completely secure. A child could have supervised me.

“Faster, please, Peter” she ordered. I tried.  I couldn’t walk at a normal pace, since the shackles only allowed me to take very short steps. The tight shackles hurt my ankles. But I’m sure she knew it. She followed behind me.

She directed me around the side of the house. I had not seen this area before. At the back of the house was a raised stone patio, surrounded by another large lawn.  On the patio was a row of pillories, side-by-side, each with a naked man locked into it. The men were held facing the lawn.  All had steel tubes enclosing their cocks. On the lawn in front of them were about fifteen chairs and tables, under an awning providing shade. Most of the chairs were empty, but three ladies were seated around one table, in the shade of the awning.  They were talking to each other. They turned and looked at me, then resumed their conversation. I saw that they had iced drinks and fruit on the table.

“Up here, slave” said my Supervisor. She pointed her baton at the end pillory, which was empty. The Ladies on the lawn watched.

 I shuffled up to the pillory, went around it, and stood facing it. As I did this,  I was able to take a glance at the man already locked in the pillory to my left. I was horrified to see  rows of weals and bruises crossing his buttocks. The weals looked only partly healed. He had obviously been recently strapped, without mercy!  I also saw a tattoo on his right thigh. It read “I.R.S” with a number below.

The Lady saw me looking. “Keep your eyes forward and down, slave” the Lady said sharply.

She said to me quietly “If you are wondering about the tattoo, that’s what we put on our permanent slaves. It’s their identification number, registered with the International Registry of Slaves. We tattoo it on their asses! It’s permanent! You don’t have an IRS  number, since you are in your initial training period here. But we’ll get you one, after your first year here!”

The lady lifted the heavy top beam. “Put your head in” she said. I obeyed. I was still handcuffed, and shackled. I could do nothing except obey. I just wanted to get the tight cuffs and shackles off. They were biting into me.  I had to lower my head to fit into the neck slot. She pushed my head further down, and I felt the beam descend. It fitted my neck tightly. I heard a padlock being fastened.  Then the lady walked behind me, and unlocked my handcuffs. I was so pleased to get them off!

My neck was securely locked in the pillory already. “Now put your hands in the pillory” she ordered. I put my hands in each of the wrist slots at the lower edge of the beam. She lifted each lower beam up in turn, and padlocked each, securing each wrist separately in the pillory.

My ankle shackles were then unlocked. “Put your feet in the stocks”. I obeyed, and my ankles were locked in the stocks at the bottom of the pillory.  My legs were held well apart. I was held naked, fully exposed to the audience on the lawn.

She spoke quietly, into my ear.

“Are you ok Peter? This is your first time, I know! Just relax. You will be ok!”

“Please Ma’am” I moaned “ I want to cancel my agreement! I want to leave!” I moaned.

No Peter! You signed the agreement! You can’t leave! I have to leave you now, Peter. Don’t embarrass me! Take the strap like a man! If you embarrass me, I’ll make you very, very sorry, when I get you alone afterwards!”

She walked around in front of me and spoke aloud, so the Ladies seated below could hear.

“Slave: you are to receive your regular 20 strokes, then 50 extra as a punishment. Do you have anything to say?”

The Ladies on the lawn were all watching and listening.

“No, Ma’am. Thank you Ma’am” I croaked.

“Then you will be silent, and wait here your punishment” she said.

My throat was so dry now. I desperately wanted some water. I should have asked for water whilst I had permission to speak! I had lost my chance. I was not permitted to speak without permission.

“Good, Peter” she said quietly to me. “You will now be punished. Try to take it like a man! You will get it, anyway!”

She turned and walked behind me. I could not turn around. I was held in the pillory, facing the lawn and the chairs, alongside the other slaves.

The Ladies down on the lawn resumed talking amongst themselves. Evidently I had done ok, so far.

I twisted my wrists and neck in the heavy beams. The pillory fitted tightly. I could feel my sweat running down my neck, under the beam. I was in the full sun. Although it was only mid-morning, it was already hot.  The ladies at the tables down below the platform had shaded tables and iced drinks, I noticed. Occasionally they glanced up at the men locked in the pillories.

I stood locked in my pillory, in the afternoon sun. It became increasingly uncomfortable, being rigidly held fixed in almost any position causes discomfort. I was tightly secured by the wooden beams, standing almost upright, legs apart, slightly bent forward at my waist, as if perpetually bowing, since the pillory was slightly lower than I would naturally stand.  The neck beam kept my head down, so that I was looking at the stone floor of the patio directly before me. I could only look forward by straining to look up under my brows. With effort, I could just see the Ladies in the front row of seats on the lawn.

I was more easily able to look to the side, because I could turn my neck, with some difficulty in the tight beam. I was able to do this, and looked at the slave locked in the pillory on my left. He looked about thirty. He was lean and fit-looking, browned from the sun. He was staring at the stone floor straight ahead. I saw that he was crying quietly.  

I twisted my neck in the tight beam, and looked the other way, to my right. I was in the end pillory. There was a table to the right, and I saw that a thick leather strap lay on the table. I shuddered, and quickly twisted my head away.

I hung in my pillory. I was rigidly locked into my thick, heavy pillory, alongside the other slaves. We were all completely helpless. We just had to try to endure.

A Lady walked up to me. She bent forward and unlocked my Kali bracelet with a small key. She put it on the patio stones at the side of my pillory. My cock started to harden. It felt so good to get the KTB off! But I could not touch my cock! I longed to touch it!

She looked at a notebook, then said “Poor boy! I see that you have a black mark, so you get 50 extra strokes today” She looked down at my erect cock. “And you don’t get to masturbate this week! Too bad! Maybe next week!” 

She walked on to the pillory on my left. The slave there was still crying. “Crying won’t help you here” she said coldly. “You know that, Geoffrey! You know our rules!”.  

I turned my head to watch. She repeated the same procedure with him. He had a different type of chastity device, a steel tube, with a locking pin that passed through his penis, obviously with a piercing. She unlocked it and took it off him.

She then asked him “Ok Jeff, which hand do you want this week? Right or left?”

“Right, please Ma’am” he replied.

The lady unlocked his right wrist. “You may start” she said. “You have one minute. Make the most of it!”.

He immediately began to frantically masturbate himself with his free hand. The Lady watched him, a stopwatch in her hand.  The ladies sipped their cold drinks and watched him frantically rub himself. In less than 30 seconds he achieved a huge orgasm, spurting out onto the stones.  He immediately started over again. But before he could reach climax a second time, the Lady said “Stop. That’s all your time for this week. Put your hand back in the pillory!”

He reluctantly put his right wrist back in the pillory. The Lady swung the heavy beam shut, and padlocked it.  He was fully secured in the pillory once more. He still had a raging erection, completely unsatisfied. “Sorry, Jeff” the Lady said, as she locked his right wrist back in the pillory and stood back. “It’s a pity to waste a nice hard cock like that, but our rule is 1 minute per week. I know you still want to wank, but you will have to wait until next week!”. She walked to the next pillory, leaving him helplessly secured, unable to satisfy himself. He started crying again. Some of the ladies laughed.

The Lady worked her way down the line of pillories, removing and cleaning each chastity tube, and allowing just one minute for each slave to masturbate. I was jealous of the other slaves, being allowed to masturbate. Even 1 minute per week sounded good to me, since I had been allowed nothing at all. I desperately wanted to, but evidently was not going to be allowed to. I would have to wait until next week!

We stood locked in the pillories. Most of the others had been allowed one minute to masturbate. I had not. Our chastity devices were now off, but we could do nothing to satisfy ourselves, our necks and wrists locked in the pillories, our legs spread apart, locked in the stocks. At least my Kali bracelet was off, so I could at least have an erection without pain. That was such a relief! I had been forced to think about baseball so much! I was so very horny after a week with no masturbation. I had a rocklike erection. But I still couldn’t touch myself. I still couldn’t get any satisfaction! It was so frustrating! I so needed to masturbate! At least I could now allow myself to think feely about my Lady Supervisor. I no longer had to keep myself thinking about baseball! That led to an almost continuous erection for hours. Most of the other slaves also had erections. We stood on our platform, a line of men, exhibited, naked, secured, before women, completely controlled by our raging, unsatisfied sexual desires, but helpless to satisfy them.

After about an hour, we were each shaved. When it was my turn, the Lady used an electric razor to shave my head, and then my pubic hair. She did it roughly. Finally, she hosed me down, with very cold water. I hated the feel of the icy water. She hosed me down very well. She then played the hose on the stone patio floor directly in front of me. She stopped and laughed. “I forgot….you weren’t allowed to masturbate this week, were you?” She moved on to the next pillory and shaved him, then hosed him down, washing his spunk off the stone patio.

Six or seven Ladies were now seated on the lawn before the row of pillories, under the sunshades, with fruit and iced drinks on the tables beside them. They seemed slightly drunk. They had laughed as we were shaved, and even more as we were hosed down. They seemed mostly interested in one slave, who they evidently knew well. They laughed hysterically as that particular slave was washed, as the hose played over his private parts. One lady yelled something at him, something about taking him to her private room that evening. That started him sobbing. That just made the ladies laugh even more.

Hours passed. I did not really know the time, but judging from the sun, it was about mid-afternoon when I heard women’s voices and footsteps coming from the house behind me.  The seats on the lawn started to fill up as Ladies came out of the house.

The man on my left began sobbing again. 

I could see the Ladies in the front seats. Those seats were within my limited range of vision.  I could not look up more than that, but I guessed that all the other seats were also being filled, judging by the number of voices. The Ladies in the front seats were looking up at me, and the other slaves, sipping drinks and talking. I turned bright red with embarrassment. I still was erect. I tried to hide my erection by bring my knees together. It was impossible, the stocks held my legs apart. I was totally exposed to the women. I grew even harder.

“The new one has a very nice cock! He’s pretty! And look…he’s shy! He’s blushing!” exclaimed one Lady, amused.

“Never mind his cock. That’s nothing. All slaves have cocks. Who cares about that?  I  want to see a hard leather strap on their asses, that’s what I want! I want to hear them yell! Let’s get on with the strapping! What’s the delay? He’s just standing there, all nice and comfy! Let’s get his ass reddened up!” said the Lady by her side. She was obviously slightly drunk.

“Hush, dear. The strapping will start in a few minutes. And he’ll be the first. Look at the program. He’s got seventy strokes coming, and it’s the black lady today. She really uses the strap hard!” said her companion.

I turned ever redder. I looked down at the stones and tried to pretend this was just a dream.

 “Its 3pm, time to start the fun” I heard a Lady call out. There was a thin round of applause from the audience of Ladies, and some chatter.  

I heard footsteps to my right. I twisted my head, and saw a muscular black lady pick up the strap from the table. She cracked it a few times. It was a heavy strap. More of the slaves to my left started sobbing.


To continue this story, click My First Strapping


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The Weight Loss
Programme

I Sign A Contract
The Farm
I Am Assigned To Gate Duty
My Life As A Gate Slave
The Sunday Pillories
My First Strapping
The Cravat
I Settle Into My Life As A Slave
My 12 Months Are Complete

The Stories of Yvonne Sinclair

Alice And Anna
On The Beach
The Bisley Boy
Silk Stockings On A Ladder
A Merry Ferry Christmas
Stella and Fanny

Julia

An Introduction

The Sacred Feminine

The Sacred Feminine

The Dominafuhrer

The New Recruit

The Story Of T

Arrival At The Institute

VO Stories

Jenny
Miss Malcahy's Detention
Nine and a Half Hours

The Convict

The Convict

Stories

65
A Caning By Miss Spiteful
Always On The Bare
A Visit To Greenwich
At My Lady's Pleasure
Ball Shackle Story
Charles
George
I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop
Judicial Bastinado
Kevin's Poem
Kim
Long Weekend
Long Weekend Conclusion
My Visit
Penitence
Plimsolls
Robin's Electrical Torture
Shoeshine Boy
Slave To The Cane
The Basement
The Colony
The Escape Artist
The Huntress Caning
The Language School
The Worm's View
Webb Encounters
Z

The Bossy Bank Women

A Judicial Punishment

The Valkyrie

Episode 1

Norseland

The Vision
The Agreement
First Blood

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