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Judicial Punishment

by Millard

Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 10 Jan 2000


It seemed like such a wonderful prank- Jon and his 3 buddies were bored, and felt that the town needed a little levity. So, what better thing to do than throw rocks at the lord mayor's carriage as it past by. As luck would have it, one of the rocks hit a horse in the face, and caused him to pull to the right, breaking his harness, and throwing the lord mayor's carriage into the ditch, where his lordship ended up in a mud puddle. While the only thing really hurt was his lordship's dignity, his anger held no bounds. He sent his guards off after the boys, and as luck would have it, Jon and his friend Peter were the only two caught.

Jon and Peter were dragged to the courthouse, and his lordship prevailed upon his friend, (and political appointee), judge Calvert, to "give these lads a speedy trial" and "make sure that they get what they deserve". Due to their young age (Jon was 12, and Peter 14), they were not tried for attempted murder as the lord mayor wished. Instead, they were tried by the judge for attempting a riot (whatever that meant). Ther "trial" consisted of them standing in the courtroom before the judge, with their hands roped behind their backs, and a rope tied around their legs in a sort of tether. The lord mayor was the only witness, and the boys were not allowed to speak in their own defense, as, according to the judge, there was no defense. They were sentenced at that time. Peter, who was older, was sentenced to be caned, and Jon to be birched. With no further comments, they were dragged outside, to the front of the courthouse. There, a town crier screamed out their sentence to anyone who was within earshot. A crowd quickly gathered, as two guards pulled Peter forward to the "triangle". This was a heavy wooden device which resembled a modern day tripod or easel, except that it had 4 legs. It was equiped with several sets of leather straps. The person receiving punishment could be fastened in a standing position, with his feet fastened apart at the base, and his hands fastened together at the top, or he could be bent over a center board and have his hands fastened to the rear legs of the triangle. It was old, and showed signs of wear, and even some suspicious staining along the center board, which was covered with a crude leather "sadddle" for the comfort of the person being punished!

Peter's ropes were taken off, and a guard quickly shoved him to the triangle, spread his legs widely apart, and fastened his ankles to the legs. His hands were pulled over his head, and fastened to the top of the triangle. He stood there, stretched out, standing in front of the crowd. The guard then pulled a knife from his pocket, and, while pulling Peter's trousers out, away from his skin, proceeded to slit each leg from his ankle to his bottom. He then reached up, and cut his shirt sleeves where they fastened into his shirt. Then, he cut the shirt at the shoulders until it fell off. With a mighty cut, he tore it off of Peter, leaving only his sleeves still attached. He then cut across the bottom of his trouser seat, which showed the bottom third of Peter's butt. Then, slowly, he cut his trousers through, and pulled them away. Peter stood, in the cold wind, naked as the day he was born (except for shirt sleeves). He looked so ridiculous, that the crown started to laugh. Apparently that caused him to realize that he was bare naked in front of the crowd, as his penis grew to its' full erect state, and he squeezed his butt cheeks together in a vain attempt to hide his nether hole. As terrible as this was for him, it was, after all, just a prelude to his punishment. A hush fell over the crowd, as a jail warder approached Peter carrying a large punishment cane. He walked all around Peter, making sure that he saw the cane. He then went to his rear, and knelt down and inspected his bottom. He felt his butt cheeks, squeezed them together, and then pulled them widely apart as he massaged them. His hand rested on Peter's butt, and Peter could be seen to visibly shake as the man inserted the end of the cane into his hole. He moved it back and forth until Peter's penis started to drip, then quickly pulled it out, moved to the side, and, using both hands like a baseball batter, swung with all his might.

Peter's scream rang off of the courtyard even as the mark showed itself on his backside. At first, there was a white line which bisected his bottom. This quickly turned an angry red color, and almost immediately became a raised mark. It was along this line that the warder was to aim. The second stroke fell, just below the first, causing a peculiar "railroad track" pattern. Peter screamed again, and those in the front observed his penis wildly moving from side to side as Peter attempted to protect his bottom. The third stroke hit in the meatiest place on Peter's rather narrow butt. It was a stroke which would go down in the warder's all time great strokes book. It seemed to compress both cheeks at least half way in. The warder held the cane into the buttocks for several seconds after he had hit, both to show the crowd the strength of the stroke, as well as show Peter just how hard he could hit. Peter was sentenced to 12 strokes, but he was not told that. He did not know if, or when his torment would end. His face was now bright red, with tears and snot running down his chest. The cold weather had caused his balls to tighten up at first but now, they were hanging low, and swung back and forth with each swing. As the strokes hit, Peter thrust forward as best he could, which caused them to swing up, and back, in harmony with his wildly swinging penis. The eighth stroke was truly an evil one. Peter was hit right in the crease of his butt cheeks, where his butt ended, and his thighs began. His scream was such that grown men cringed. The last four strokes were given at an angle, over the other eight, and caused his skin to crack and bleed. By this time, his head had fallen forward. He was racked with deep sobs, and his penis had even lost it's erection. He was a sorry looking boy as he was unfastened and thrown to the ground on top of his ruined shirt and pants. Beyond caring that everyone there could see him, he just laid on the ground and sobbed.

Jon had watched the entire proceedings, not ten feet away from the triangle. All color had drained from his face as another warder came forward carrying two large birch rods which were dripping wet. He approached Jon, set the rods down, untied his hands and told him to undress. With shaking hands, Jon removed his shirt, and bent down to untie his ankles. He stood up, and untied the rope around his thin, little boy waist. The weight of his canvas trousers caused them to fall. This was perhaps the worst part of Jon's punishment. Unlike Peter, he had not reached puberty, and his little boyhood was just that, little. It had shrunk so much that only the little pink head showed above his balls. The warder almost gently helped him step out of his trousers, and walked him to the triangle. Through tear streaked eyes, he saw his "friends" Derek and Gerald in the very front of the crowd, jeering and pointing at him. He cried out to the warder that they should be up on stage with him, but nobody paid any attention to him. The warder positioned his left leg by the left leg of the triangle, and fastened it with a stll warm leather strap. He then pulled Jon's right leg apart, and forced it to the right leg of the triangle. Jon felt like he was being torn apart, his legs were so far apart. Then, he was pulled forward, over the leather saddle, and his wrists were fastened to the front legs of the triangle. A leather strap was then fastened from beneath the saddle, and all was ready. From the front, the crowd could only see Jon's bent over back, and his head which was hangling low. From the rear, he presented quite a picture. Nothing of his boyhood was hidden. His little penis and balls hung down below his widely stretched boyhole. Jon could see the legs of the warder as he looked upside down, through his own legs. He too saw his privates and knew they were on wide open display.

The warder's legs took a stance to Jon's left, and he saw a twisting movement, as he heard a whistling noise, then felt the birch rod hit. Due to the size of the rod, the entire area of Jon's boy butt was covered by each stroke, and, with the separation of his legs, his byhole and even his bag was within striking distance. Jon only knew that he had been hit. At first, it did not seem to be too bad. The stroke was somewhat painful, not enough to cause him to cry. Then, the second stroke hit, and the third and the fourth--and Jon knew what pain was. The heat of the first stroke built as the next stroke hit, and that stroke built onto the next. He suddenly felt as if his entire butt was on fire. He screamed, he tore himself from side to side, he begged, he cried, he cursed, but nothing changed except the pain, which kept growing. He knew that he could stand no more, when it ended as quickly as it started. He watched the warder's legs retreat, and continued to sob and moan. But, he knew that he had made it, and that was all that was important.

Then Jon saw the warder reappear. He waited for him to release him, when he saw him stand in that all to familiar place, and suddenly his world consisted of the fire in is butt. Slowly he remembered the second birch rod. This time, the strokes seemed to be slower, as if the warder was looking for a new place to hit. Then, he saw the warder move, and suddenly appear in front of him. Jon looked up toward his face, knowing that he was finally going to be untied. What he saw caused his heart to stop, and caused him nightmares for the rest of his life. The warder was holding a birch high in the air, with both hands. The crowd grew silent, as he slowly flexed his arms, and then suddenly brought it down onto Jon's already torn bottom. From this angle, the tips of the branches climbed right inside his rectum, and tore into the area between his hole and his bag. Jon never knew that such pain could happen. He screamed, and jerked his head up, only to see the next stroke on its' way. He passed out, and was revived with a bucket of water which was thrown on his small, slightly bleeding butt.

Unlike Peter, he was not immediately released. He had to lay in position for over an hour, as the crowd was encouraged by the lord mayor to get a "close look" at what awaited children who would attempt to harm a public official.

Jon stared at men, women, boys, and girls who slowly filed past. Some touched his bottom, and a few even ran their hands over his balls, or stuck fingers into his hole.

He was finally released, and vowed that he would find the other two, and get even with them.



If you enjoyed it, make sure you check out all the other stories by this author too!

Show all the stories by Millard
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