Ruled by the Rod (16 page)

Watching her I
became intensely aware of the chain that had been cutting into my
own crotch since morning. But my female parts had only to endure
the pull of the strap. Hers must carry her whole weight. I
shuddered at what it might feel like to be seated thus, one's legs
spread so that one's knees could get no grip to ease the load, able
only to rock a trifle back and forth, making the choice between
bruising the pubic bone in front, or the coccyx behind, the tender
tissues between suffering whatever the choice.

One could see
that the prisoner was already aware of the terrible situation she
was in, for her body was tensed all over, the muscles in her thighs
and back standing out like bunches of cord below her soft woman's
skin. She constantly eased herself backwards and forwards, as far
as she was allowed, obviously feeling acute discomfort already, and
her night's vigil had scarce begun.

By now it was
past seven o'clock, and all our party were in need of rest and
refreshment.

'She's a
hardened sinner,' said the wardress, 'and it will take a while to
make her betray her feelings. Do you repair to the inn in the
village, where you may find rooms for the night and a good supper,
then return here about nine, or a half past? She should be
beginning to sweat by then.'

Our guardians
were pleased to act on this advice, and so were Marion, Charlotte
and myself, for we had worn our 'uniforms' for over fourteen hours
without respite now, and our necks ached, our knees were sore and
the chains in our crotches seemed like knives.

At the inn we
found that the landlord could offer us but one large chamber, with
three beds in it, but it was too far to go back to the vicarage
tonight, and papa took it, ordering supper the while which, when it
came, proved to be very good. Our guardians seemed to have felt
their day well spent, and showed their satisfaction by feeding us
generously off their own plates, and giving us copious draughts
from their glasses.

Thus it was in
a much happier mood that we women set out for the prison, two hours
or so later, for we knew we would very soon be able to remove our
chains, and rest our weary bodies.

Not so the
prisoner.

As the
wardress led us into the punishment room, she turned her head to
see who had entered, revealing a face drawn with strain, the mouth
twisted as she fought to resist the pain gnawing in her vitals.

'This is an
awful thing to do to one of our sex,' she groaned. 'As we are both
women, let it finish now. I am being split in half.'

'You claim
womanhood?' retorted the wardress. 'More like a hyena in a
petticoat. Save that you have none, nor even a shift. No, mistress,
sit there and be reminded of what you have between your legs, that
says that nature has made you less than man. I'll wager, by
morning, you'll have come to know the truth of it, and regret you
ever preached such foul treason against your lords and
masters.'

The woman gave
a groan, and I would have been sorry for her, knowing only too well
how cruelly such pressure in one's fork can serve one, but I
remembered why she was here, and my pity vanished. What would
become of the world if the natural rule of men over women were to
be upset, and what unhappiness had she already brought on the young
women whose minds she had poisoned?

The wardress
wished us goodnight, and good rest, inviting us to come and see how
well the reforming influence of the Spanish horse had acted when
the termagant was taken down at seven, when her twelve hours were
up. I shuddered to think of her there, all through the lonely hours
of the night, perched on her agonising mount in the dark, unable to
move, held secure, adding her own sweat of agony to the dark stains
left by those who had ridden the terrible mount before her.

Back at the
inn the gentlemen were eager for their beds, and we to ease
ourselves of the chains that vexed us so sorely, so all were soon
undressed, and in the case of the women, washed and soothed a
little after the trials of our long day.

However, our
close proximity to the gentlemen, following a day that had seen
them in our company continuously, not to speak of the many other
women they had viewed in various states of undress, and distress,
had so worked on our guardians that nothing would serve but that we
should each bend over a bed, and do our duty by their bursting
discharges.

This last duty
performed, we were at last allowed to find our rest, each lying on
a mat beside the bed of him she had just served; Marion, as
befitted the senior, by Justice Rodsham, Charlotte with the doctor,
and I, his favourite, by papa.

We all slept
very well and were up betimes to go and see the Spanish horse
relieved of its rider. Being from home, my sisters and I were
unable to take our usual dip beneath a pump, and were allowed to
use the gentlemen's hot water after they. I felt a little of
conscience at the luxury of it, though it was but warm when it was
my turn, but could not restrain the feeling of sweet comfort as I
crouched over the basin to wash my still sore fork, before
re-donning my chain. We took only a cup of chocolate, before the
carriage came round to bear us off to the house of correction,
where we arrived but a minute or so after seven.

'My apologies,
ma'am,' said the judge, addressing the chief wardress. 'I hope we
are not too late to see the outcome of last night's treatment.'

'Why think
nothing of it,' the woman replied. 'We would have waited till noon
for your lordship if necessary. The woman was not going anywhere,'
she added in grim jest.

Once again we
found ourselves in the punishment room, viewing the sorry figure on
the horse.

There was
nothing of pride or defiance now. Her head lolled as far as the
collar would allow, her eyes were shut, her mouth open. She made
long low sounds, like a mother crooning to her babe, but these were
not the accents of maternal love, but of female anguish from a
woman in extremity. She was still conscious and her lower body
still rocked and writhed in a vain attempt to ease her pain, but
she seemed quite unaware that there were others in the room, even
when the overseers unfastened her legs and arms, unhooked the cords
from her collar, and made ready to remove her from the sharp saddle
she rode.

They lifted
her, and she cried out as the wedge of wood left her flesh. When
they set her on the floor she could not stand, but fell on her
knees, then tumbled slowly onto her side, her body curled up into a
ball, her hands thrust deep into her groin to clasp the bruised
flesh between her legs.

'Now then,
mistress,' the wardress addressed her, 'have you learnt your
lesson, or would you ride further in search of enlightenment?'

'No more! No
more!' she cried piteously. 'I'll not offend again. I'll submit me
to men, as is right, but do not put me up again.'

'So you see
the error of your ways, and your offences against man and God? Do
you admit that men are your masters, and your duty to serve? Do you
regret the bile you have fed your young acquaintance on, and that
your teachings flew in the face of nature?'

'Yes! Yes! I
admit it all. I have been a disgrace to my sex and a corrupter of
youth, but spare me the horse again.'

'I see you are
cured of your madness,' the wardress observed. 'Take her away, and
set her on the work gang.'

'Very
efficacious,' remarked papa. 'The effect is quite wonderful to
behold. A lamb that has strayed, found again. I must speak to the
carpenter, whether he may construct such a device at the
vicarage.'

If I had felt
horror at the machine, just to see a woman broken on it so
completely, how may I describe the terror that flowed through me as
papa proposed one for our use. Surely we did not need to be broken
so utterly? We were not perfect, perfection was reserved for the
male sex, especially holy men and hermits, and mere women could not
hope for it, as papa had so ably and persuasively proved in so many
sermons. But we were docile and obedient, and surely our lapses
from grace were adequately contained by the whippings we received,
our sinful natures curbed by the constraints we wore.

I shook so
much at what such a horse might be like, pressing with all the
weight of one's own body on that delicate tissue between my thighs,
that I had to brace my knees against their fetters to stop them
trembling.

It was with
thoughtful expressions and dark foreboding that we returned to the
vicarage for, surely, we might expect to share many of the dire
punishments, and disciplines, that we had witnessed women enduring
this last twenty-four hours. Their cries and groans, their
writhings and spasms, their choking sobs would soon be ours.

At first it
seemed they would, and with but short delay, for papa commissioned
Mr Bendham, the joiner in the village, to start work at once on his
own design for a Spanish horse, and the two were soon in regular
communication over its construction. Mr Bendham suggested many
novel features, which our minds could not forebear to applaud, as
shining examples of that technical genius that was transforming the
manufactures of Great Britain, to the lasting benefit of its
peoples. Though our bodies cringed from the implications for our
suffering.

First he
devised an ingenious system, whereby a plank on either side, about
a foot from the floor, would swing out to form steps by which the
horse might be mounted but which, at the pull of a lever, would
drop down like the hangman's trap, to leave the rider mounted on
the edge.

And what an
edge!

Ever the
craftsman, and determined to work with only the best of materials,
he had suggested to papa that mere pine would not serve, and
produced a piece of black yew wood, as hard as iron and shaped to a
knife edge, that slotted into the top of the structure with all the
delicacy of inlay on a Sheraton commode. His design also included a
sliding yoke, which fastened round the neck and held the rider
upright at all times, but gave no support in a vertical direction,
thus eliminating any possibility of her taking any of her weight
off the yew wedge splitting her crotch.

Though the
shadow of this fearful device hung heavy over us, looming nearer
with each visit Mr Bendham paid to the vicarage, other
possibilities, favoured by our medical superintendent and our
judge, were not so menacingly imminent, for both were from
home.

The doctor had
travelled to America with his friend and colleague, the celebrated
Dr Isaac Brown, to spread their gospel of the management of women
throughout the New World, that society there should enjoy the same
benefits that had been so successfully propagated in Europe.

Justice
Rodsham was also from home, having gone to sit on a committee
considering whether corporal punishment for women should be
disallowed by the courts. Needless to say, when the idea was first
mooted, he conceived it his duty to go to London straightway, to
put an end to such dangerous nonsense.

And now
disaster struck, tearing apart our happy ordered world. One minute
we were content, knowing our place, secure in the firm and wise
governance of our guardians, sustained by our restraints. Without
which, so papa, as a man of God, assured us, we would be as
ravening wolves or scarlet women.

Papa's sense
of duty was ever strong, and, in the absence of our other
guardians, he conceived it his duty to take upon himself not only
his share of the burden of controlling our unruly selves, but
theirs as well. The burden was immense for, so it seemed, with the
others away the danger of us erring was magnified in some way, such
that he frequently found that each of us needed more than our usual
weekly correction, and he would call us to his study at very short
notice between our regular visits, to lay fresh stripes on wounds
barely healed. Moreover, the effect of working on three of us
without assistance meant that he was more and more infected by the
female contagion, and required one or other of us to draw it from
him every night.

One day, even
this was not enough, and Charlotte was called directly from her
dawn ablutions to quell the raging inflammation in him, after
receiving six cuts of the rod for which apparently, she had become
due.

That evening I
went for my regular visit, my buttocks still sore and flaming from
some dozen and a half of the cane they had sustained only two
nights before. Now I was to receive another fifteen strokes, which
reduced me to tears. While I stayed on the arms of the whipping
chair he undid his britches, and entered me behind, a process less
painful than of old, for the constant use had begun to stretch my
sphincter somewhat, and I could receive papa's rock hard member
with more ease than heretofore.

He set to work
vigorously to work the poison from his system, and I to aid him by
gripping him tight with my anal muscle and, it seemed, he came
quickly to that climax that denotes the expulsion of the fluid, for
I felt it hot and spurting in my bowel, thinking his gasps and
snorting sounds much above what was usual, but supposing him just a
little overwrought by the strain of controlling three young and
vigorous women. As he gave his last choking gasp he fell on my
back, but I thought nothing of it, for he often did, until he could
recover his strength.

I lay there
for one minute, two, not daring to move my position without
permission, then imagine my horror as he slipped out of me with a
small sucking sound as his member, still partly erect, left the
tight sheath in which it had been lying, and his body lurched
sideways and fell to the floor.

I was torn
between concern for my papa and my obligation to stay in my
position until given word of release. Filial duty won; after all, I
could always purge my disobedience by going back over the chair and
taking my strokes again.