A HUMILIATING REVENGE
by
Alex Birch

(M/F, non consensual)




This painful saga is a second hand account of corporal punishment in modern
rural Russia which I found so arousing that I thought I might share it with you.
It is the major part of a long letter from a good friend of mine, Alan Cowper
(name again slightly changed), who shares my CP interests, and who is a
structural engineer with a major petroleum company.  In 1995, Alan's work took
him to the small village of Kuraystevo some 200 miles from Tomsk in the former
Soviet Union where he and two colleagues had to negotiate an agreement for the
passage of a new pipeline through the area.  Alan was there for a month in
spring time which. he says, is a beautiful time of the year in Mother Russia and
would in itself have made for a memorable visit, yet something happened in that
village which transformed the trip and which, he swears, will live in his memory
all his life.

If you, the reader, finds that the incidents described in Alan's letter to be
incredible and disturbing in this last decade of the 20th century, then please
remember that with the collapse of Communism and the Soviet Union came the
return of basic values which Russian peasantry had known and lived with for
centuries.  Here there are villages where, now the local Commissar and his
informers have departed, people are free to determine their own law without
recourse to courts and police who may be two hundred miles away through
difficult terrain.  Thus feudal law has returned and wrongs are settled with
instant justice ...as you will see.  All I will say by way of introduction is
that Alan's letter initially described his stay at the only inn in the village
of some four hundred people, and how he had become friendly with the Landlord. 
The friendship extended to the landlord's wife, Petra, who Alan found to be an
open and friendly girl with little or no shyness.  He had learned Russian at
University, in order to qualify for jobs such as his, thus his tale is
unhindered by the need for an interpreter, the language proving no barrier.  I
will allow Alan to tell the rest in his own words ...

... I slept late and was awoken on Saturday morning by a gaggle of excited
voices in the street outside and the sound of hammering and banging on someone's
door.  I thought there was a riot and got out of bed hurriedly in order to look
out of my window.  I looked at my watch, astonished to see it was nearly 10
a.m., and hurriedly washed and dressed.  I made my way downstairs where, to my
surprise, Petra greeted me and ushered me to the breakfast table.  It was
strange to see her at breakfast for normally she slept in allowing her husband
to wait on guests, but he was nowhere to be seen.

'Where's Connie?' I enquired brightly, surprised to see a maidenly blush cross
her face.  Connie was a sort of in joke for the landlord's name was Constantin
Voronov, a huge affable bear of a man with a red face and a thick beard, who
hugged me each time we met, nearly crushing my spine.  It was he who suggested
the abbreviation, finding huge fun in a nickname which has such feminine
associations to us in the West.
'He..he is busy with a problem in the village at the moment ...' she said
quietly '...but he sends apologies.  You will have to make do with me as a
waiter this morning.'
I smiled at her.  'I could not imagine one better or prettier ...but what is he
doing?  Is it anything to do with that commotion outside?  Sorry if I'm being
inquisitive!'

Petra cleared her throat nervously before replying.  'Not at all, Mr Cowper. 
Yes it is to do with the noise in the street.  I am sorry for the disturbance,
it doesn't happen often but I'm afraid the villagers have to fetch someone from
her home.  She has been a silly woman and not gone voluntarily to the village
square at 9am as she was ordered to do.  Connie is one of the group sent to
fetch her out.  He is a member of the village magistrates committee, you see''
Some instinct raised my excitement level at this point and I pursued the point.
'Petra, what is going on ...? I demanded '...this sounds very intriguing! 
Ordered to the village square, villagers sent to fetch her?  What is happening?'

To my surprise, Petra blushed crimson before she answered me, very quietly.
'Mr Cowper, this is not England, indeed it is not even Moscow and our ways will
seem strange and cruel to you, indeed as they do to Muscovites.  Sometimes, I
too think ...' and her voice quavered as she hesitated '... well, never mind
what I think, but I keep quiet.  It is not my place to question.  The woman
across the street is a widow named Jana Marenkova and she has stolen food from
the village traders by fraud.  She has been given opportunities to pay back the
money but has reneged each time.  Finally the village committee met last week
after everyone's patience had run out and Jana was told to report to the square
at 9 a.m. today, where, in front of all the village, she would receive a public
whipping.  It seems the stupid woman is too ashamed and frightened to leave her
home.  It will only be worse for her when they drag her out, as they surely
will.'

Petra was obviously highly embarrassed by the revelation especially as I gasped
in astonishment 'A ..a public whipping ...but how is it ..I mean, what with? 
How is...?' then spluttered in confusion as I realised excessive and excited
interest would appear somewhat perverse.  However she swallowed nervously,
blushed once more, then answered me directly, and to my surprise, with amused
irony.  There was much more to Petra Voronov than the image of the dutiful wife,
although she was obviously getting some embarrassment from her narrative and my
interest in it!
'This is part of your Company research, is it, Mr Cowper ...?' she grinned and
continued '...well,normally, for an offence like this, a woman would receive
probably twenty strokes with a doubled over belt, which our errant children get
without much lasting harm, so that is not the worst of it ...' she bit her lip
'...it is the public shame which the women find intolerable for the punishment
is always administered to the bare buttocks ...'

I must have betrayed my excessive enthusiasm at this point for she blushed
deeply as she continued.
'... On the day of punishment, most women wear a long dress and leave their
underpants off so that their clothes can be simply lifted to the waist for the
whipping.  In case your curiosity takes you that far, Mr Cowper, that is because
the humiliation is marginally reduced.  I know it is strange but most women will
tell you that there is an added dimension of shame in publicly taking their
knickers down.  I was caned on my bare bottom twice at school ...' she grinned
ruefully and blushed once more as my penis sat up and took notice inside my
trousers ' ...and I swear that having to obey that terrible order to take my
knickers down before bending over the headmaster's desk was worse than either
the exposure or the punishment itself.  Men are whipped on the back here which I
am told is vastly more painful ...but much less humiliating.
I do not know what punishment Jana will get now for she has roused the wrath of
the village justices.  I would not like to be in her place, believe me!  Lest
you think we are savages, this does not happen every week.  This will be the
first time a woman has been beaten in the village for over two years and the
offence has to be serious to warrant it.'

Petra paused for a moment and looked around nervously although I was the only
person in the breakfast room, then, reassured, she lowered her voice and
continued
'Marenkov, Jana's late husband, was a high ranking party official and during the
days of the communists they lived well, better than anyone in the village.  As a
result there was much bitterness and envy.  I think Marenkova has suffered more
than most from the new regime here for the rest of us were always poor but her
circumstances were quite lavish and she has had much further to fall.  That's
why she cheated the traders with false credit.  She has two youngsters still at
school to feed you see.  It was wrong and she should be punished but I fear that
many men in the village have waited a long time for this opportunity and ...'
she bit her lip and grimaced '...I fear it will be very painful and humiliating
for her.  Now forgive me, Mr Cowper, if we do not talk further of this for I
squirm with shame at the very thought of what will happen to a member of my own
sex, but I suggest, to complete your Russian education, you stroll down to the
village square and watch for yourself.  Feel no embarrassment in such curiosity,
for if you do not, you will be the only male in Kuraystevo over sixteen who is
not there!'

Thanking Petra for her candour, and feeling very shamefully excited, I decided
to take her advice.  My route to the square took me past the house where Connie
and the other men were banging on the door, and, just as I reached the house, a
group of men decided to shoulder charge the door and it fell open as the lock
splintered away.  I heard screams coming from inside as a bevy of men stumbled
through the door, followed by shouts of 'Now, Marenkova, come with us!  You'll
regret what you've done today, my girl!  You'll wish you'd turned up as you
should!  Come with us immediately!'
While all this was going on, I walked down the hill towards the village square
normally so quiet but today a vast crowd, nearly all men, had assembled, some
shivering with cold for they had obviously been there since the woman's original
appointment hour.  I loitered about, receiving some grim nods of acknowledgment
from the local worthies who would normally have greeted me with a smile.  It was
apparent that though they were polite, my presence here was considered an
intrusion, yet I was too keyed up to care.

In the middle of the village green, there stood a single solid vertical wooden
post which had obviously been brought out and erected specially for the
occasion.  The base had been buried deep in the ground and, at the top, some 6ft
above the ground was a large hole through which thick binding cord had been fed.
I realised with some excitement that this was the whipping post and that the
cord would be used to secure the victim's wrists high above her head.
Beside the post there was a table at which four men, obviously the Committee
administrators, sat grimly waiting, all of them wearing thick fur coats to
counter the almost zero temperature.
At that moment, squeals and screams mingled with shouts of triumph came from the
direction of Marenkova's home and all heads turned to see a group of grinning
men marching toward the square and between them, firmly held, was a struggling
fair haired woman in her mid forties.  Behind them came a smaller group of men
who were escorting two obviously frightened children, a pretty girl of about
sixteen and a boy some two years younger.

Despite the cold, the woman had no coat but wore a thick grey dress buttoned to
the neck and which came down to just below her knees.  She was shouting and
squealing in rage and fear as she was marched inexorably closer to her fate, her
large breasts shaking with her frantic breathing as she shouted and cursed at
her captors.  Every so often the men shouted an angry threat and the woman
subsided into sobbing, but as she was prodded and pushed forward, she again
shouted out in fright.
I realised to my shame how sexually excited I was becoming as the party neared
the square, for my trousers were straining with a very hard erection at the mere
thought of what was to come.  It was now apparent that the woman was to be
punished in front of her own children and I began to imagine all sorts of
possibilities.  As the party reached the square, I realised just how attractive
a woman Marenkova was.  She was a natural blonde with clear flashing blue eyes
and a stunning buxom figure, enough to arouse any man's interest and today, as
she twisted and fought her captors like a savage, frightened wild animal, that
sexual magnetism was overwhelming.  I could quite imagine how in the good days
of the Communists, she could tour the shops demanding this and that with
imperious superiority and now, in front of all the men in the village, she was
to be brought down in humiliating fashion.

As the woman was pushed into the square in front of the table, I stole a look to
the side where her two children now stood at the front of the crowd with
ringside seats of everything which would take place.  The young boy looked
bemused by the proceedings while the face of the girl was wreathed in a crimson
blush, her mind obviously dwelling on what was to happen, but I was brought back
to earth by harsh words from the committee table.
'Jana Marenkova, you were summoned to appear here for a public whipping at 9am
and you have defied us.  You have been brought here by force.  Do you have an
explanation for your conduct?'
The woman, still held by two men, shuddered from cold and fear, her face red,
her eyes wide and frightened, then she began to shout.
'Your decrees have no right in law!  I refuse to obey these village committees. 
I am a poor widow with children and you cannot treat me like this!  You will not
whip me in public ...it..it is shameful!  I will tell the authorities ...I..I
will..' then she burst into frantic sobbing as the men at the table grinned.

'You will get no help from them, Marenkova ...' one man replied '...for all your
Red friends have gone.  There are no Party apparatchiks here, woman, and no
magistrates either.  We are the law in this village and you will be punished
severely for defying the decree!'
Jana Marenkova began to tremble in terror as the words struck home and she cried
out 'Oh please have mercy on me!  I will make reparation, I promise.  I will
never do it again.  Oh my God, please ...my children are here.  I beg you please
do not whip me!  I beg you, it is so shameful in front of my children and all
the men in the village!'

The men on the committee exchanged glances and a few heads nodded grimly before
the Chairman spoke harshly.  I felt my penis stiffen further as the crowd loudly
applauded his words.
'Do not try to worm your way out of this, Marenkova, by pleas for forgiveness
and concern for your modesty.  That is the very last thing you will be worrying
about soon.  As for reparation, do you think we are stupid, woman?  How many
chances were you given to repay the money before the Committee sentenced you? 
You are a fraud and an arrogant liar, woman, for you had no intention of
repayment or of respecting this Committee as your bluster has shown.  Now...had
you obeyed the summons you would have been strapped on your bare buttocks with
your clothes merely raised but, in view of your behaviour this morning, the
Committee has decided on an exemplary punishment.

Jana Marenkova, you will take off all your clothes ...every stitch, you hear
...QUIET WOMAN! ...' as the crimson faced Jana screamed in terror ' ...and, when
you are as naked as the day you were born, you will be tied to the whipping post
for twenty five strokes of the birch rods across your plump bottom.  That should
make you forget your modesty and the cold.  You'll just have a bloody hot arse
to worry about, my girl!  You won't long be concerned about showing everything
you've got, for you'll be too busy jumping about and squealing with pain, I can
tell you!  Now get undressed ...immediately!'

The reaction around that square was instant as Jana Marenkova, her face first
white as a sheet and then bright burning crimson, burst into frantic tears and
cursed the committee loudly.  She was shaking from head to foot and squealing
her refusal, her guards needing to grip her arms tightly as she struggled.
An electric buzz went around the crowd and there were some knowing smiles as men
looked forward to the unveiling of this arrogant widow.  I felt perspiration on
my forehead and the front of my trousers seemed to stretch out like a tentpole,
hidden from view, I was glad to say, by my heavy overcoat.  I stole a glance at
the two children and saw two contrasting reactions as the young boy was open
mouthed with disbelief, his face a picture of shock and his body shaking but the
girl was red faced and angry.

'You cannot treat Mama like this ...' she yelled in a high pitched squeal '
...oh you cannot strip my mother naked, it is not right.  This is disgraceful!'
The chairman of the committee turned his baleful eye on her immediately and
shouted 'You watch your tongue, Magda Marenkova, for you are sixteen now and
that is old enough to appear before this committee.  Any more lip from you, my
girl, and you will have YOUR pants taken down, here and now in public, and we
will give your bare little bottom a taste of the swishing rods!'   The girl
gasped and blushed crimson, subsiding into mortified tears.  She was stunningly
pretty, blonde haired and blue eyed like her mother,  with strong shapely legs
amply revealed under her short skirt.  The child was already breaking hearts, I
was sure, and I found myself shamefully hoping that the young daughter might be
unable to restrain her outrage.  I would then enjoy the delight of seeing that
little skirt raised and her knickers lowered before her ripe young bottom was
publicly subjected to the birch.  However I was pretty certain that the man had
no such intention but the threat was enough for the girl to remain silent,
crying and biting her lip.

At a sign from the chairman, the two men holding Jana Marenkova gripped even
tighter as she struggled in panic, while a third man knelt down behind her
before she realised and quickly tied some thick rope around her ankles to
prevent her from kicking out.  Having completed this task he walked round to the
front of the struggling woman and, with strong coarse hands, he ripped open the
buttons of the grey dress, some flying off in the process, until the dress was
open to the waist, revealing Marenkova in a white cotton underskirt cut low so
that the cleavage of her large heaving breasts was now visible.
Jana Marenkova was wailing in fear and shame but still she would not comply with
the instruction to undress so the committee chairman shouted to her once more.
'Resistance is useless, Marenkova, can you not see that?  The more you resist,
the worse your punishment will be.  Now your winter dress is valuable.  Do you
want it ripped from your body, woman?  For that is what will happen if you do
not co operate.  If you are too ashamed to remove your clothing we will do it
for you, but stop struggling!'

With an anguished cry, Marenkova's body suddenly sagged in defeat and, within
seconds her dress and the underskirt beneath had been removed by the men as she
stood in mute acceptance, refusing to help but not hindering them in any way. 
The sight was a wondrous one for the woman now stood dressed only in her bra and
pants, the white cotton brassiere, though sturdy and full, hardly containing the
twin turrets of firm flesh which seemed to proudly stretch the cups to their
very limit.  Her knickers of white cotton were modest and thick ending well
beneath the groin like old fashioned bloomers but as she began to twist and turn
again in her fear and shame, the shape of her beautiful bottom was highlighted
with every movement.

Jana Marenkova's eyes were wide with fear now and her skin was covered in goose
pimples as she stood in near zero temperatures in just her briefest underwear. 
She was strongly built as are most Russian women but remarkably shapely with
everything in proportion.  Her stomach had just a hint of plumpness as befits a
woman of forty five but she was in superb condition, her strong legs and shapely
thighs completing the splendid and alluring picture.  The crowd was buzzing now
as the committee man reached behind the writhing woman to release the catch of
her brassiere but, as he did so, Jana Marenkova suddenly spat fully in his face
and screamed 'Don't you dare touch me, you bastards!'

As he recoiled, wiping the spittle from his face, the committee chairman rose to
his feet shouting 'That is your last chance, Marenkova!  Now there will be
something extra special for you!'  He made a sign to the two men gripping Jana's
arms and they gripped extra tightly, one man pulling her head back by her hair
to prevent a repeat performance, as the man with spittle rolling down his face
turned to the struggling woman and grinned.
The woman's eyes were wild and her face was crimson as she screamed 'I BEG
YOU..NOOOOOOOOO!' but her pleas fell on deaf ears for he seized a bra cup in
each hand and with a mighty wrench tore the brassiere from her body, her superb
milky white breasts spilling free from their captivity, the coral pink nipples
stiffly erect from fear and the effects of the extremely cold weather.

Jana Marenkova was crying wildly now as she was forcibly held between the two
men, pleading for the stripping to stop, her cries hysterical with shame as she
was so rudely exposed, yet her plight was so sexually arousing for as she
twisted and turned in terror, so the massive breasts swung wildly from side to
side and up and down, the nipples glistening as they caught the morning
sunlight.  With hardly a pause, the man then reached down to her waist and as
Jana Marenkova squealed for mercy, he ripped her knickers in half from waist to
crotch, throwing the ruined underwear onto the grass.

I could hardly believe what I was seeing as this weeping, hysterical woman was
stripped completely naked and so crudely displayed to the crowd.  Marenkova's
struggles suddenly stopped and she stood head bowed and defeated, trying
desperately to keep her legs together and deny the crowd a view of her private
parts.  I felt sorry for her, humiliated and displayed so graphically to
everyone, yet my sexual excitement was intense as I watched her shapely naked
body writhing in distress and I consoled myself that the situation was largely
her own fault.  Had she accepted the original decree, Jana Marenkova would have
been spared all but the exposure of her buttocks and a mild strapping.

She was crying desperately with shame, pleading with the committee chairman to
spare her this naked display as the crowd on the fringe of the square all began
to move around, each man seeking the best view of Jana's body.  I was privileged
to be standing behind the committee table and thus getting a full frontal view
of the naked woman ...and what a view it was.  My eyes roamed down from her
agonised crimson face, contorted by tears of shame, to the magnificent large
white breasts, each nipple now a bright red jutting beacon atop a luscious
creamy white fruit.  Oh how I longed to step forward and cup my hands around her
breasts at that moment!  Her pale belly shimmied as she swayed in her shame,
desperately seeking some hiding place for her most shameful area, to which my
eager eyes travelled next.  Jana's groin was guarded by a foliage of chestnut
brown pubic hair, several shades darker than the hair of her head, but it was
not enough to completely hide the upper part of her cunt, the bright pink labia
peeking through the garland of hair.  God, how I in my fantasies I longed to tie
Jana Marenkova over that table and fuck her until she screamed for me to stop!

The two children who were still carefully marshalled in case of any rash
intervention were silent now and white faced, the girl weeping softly as her
mother was completely humiliated.  The committee chairman rose to his feet, his
expression stern.
'Marenkova, now you know how it feels to be shamed in public...and you could
have been spared this but for your foolishness!  You have added multifold to
your offences today and your ordeal is far from over!  You will learn your
lesson the hard way!  Men, put her up!'

Immediately, the two brawny men holding the woman's arms reached under her
armpits as she cried out in terror and hoisted her off the ground, carrying her
the few yards to the whipping post for her ankles were still tied together, and
deposited her on her feet facing the post.  Her body was trembling with fear and
cold now but the effect was entrancing.  One of the men pushed her slightly
nearer so that the front of her body was in contact with the post then quickly
untied the thick cord already looped through the hole at the top of the post as
the second man ordered the woman to raise her arms above her head, which she did
with a shuddering cry of fear.  Her wrists were secured to each end of the cord
and pulled tightly so that she was secured firmly to the post.  As her ankles
were already tightly tied together, her feet were not further secured, giving
the woman at least some freedom to hop about yet unable to independently kick
her legs.

Jana Marenkova thus stood tied and tethered, her magnificent naked body now
revealed to the crowd in all its defenceless glory, her bare bottom ready for a
sound whipping.  There was more movement in the crowd now as people hastened to
get a ringside seat of the naked woman's buttocks, everyone reluctant to miss
even one swish across that sumptuous arse.  Marenkova hung her head and wept as
she stood bound and naked, the waiting intensifying her fear and shame
multifold.  Suddenly she cried out in terror as a man who had been sent on an
errand during her stripping returned to the table carrying a four foot long
sheaf of fearsome birch rods which he deliberately swished in front of the
frightened woman before very deliberately placing it on the committee table in
full view of her terrified eyes.

'Oh please, birch me and be done with it, I beg you!' she cried out as tears
flowed down her cheeks but the committee chairman shook his head.
'Oh no Marenkova, you will have to wait a little longer before you feel the
power of mother birch ...' he said, smiling grimly '...for there are a few other
preparations in store for you first after your behaviour this morning!' and with
that he signalled to two men on the edge of the crowd who nodded and immediately
disappeared into the grassy woodlands which bordered the village.

'Oh God, please ...!' the woman wailed '...what more must I suffer?' then as no
answer was forthcoming she hung her head and wept bitter tears.  Ten minutes
elapsed as the naked woman stood weeping and displayed to the crowd, her body
obviously freezing for there were goose pimples on her arms ,back and buttocks
as she wriggled and shivered in the cold.  Suddenly the two men reappeared and
came onto the square and I gasped with astonishment, for each was bearing a
sheaf of stinging nettles.  I swallowed hard and the crowd gasped as the
chairman signalled the men to approach the woman at the whipping post.
Marenkova could not see their arrival but was aware that something was happening
by the buzz in the crowd, then tried to turn her head as she sensed the approach
of the two me behind her.

'Oh please, what is happening?  What are you ....aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!' her
sentence was never finished, for at a signal from the chairman, the men, who
were standing one each side of the tethered woman, began to gently glaze the
woman's bottom with the sheaf of nettles working each sheaf up and down the
nearest cheek.  However gently they were applied, the effect on poor Marenkova
was instantaneous and she began to shriek.  She tried to hop up and down and the
men temporarily paused as those magnificent arse cheeks shivered and writhed,
the little white urticaria dots in the midst of a patch of angry red now clearly
standing out on her skin.

'Oh God, no I can't stand it, I... aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!! she screamed as the
nettling began again until the whole expanse of her bottom was covered in nettle
stings from waist to the pinch of the thigh and her bottom was a bright red
before any birch had found its mark.
The mens work was not yet complete, for as a final act of cruelty, one man
pulled open the woman's bottom cheeks as she shrieked in terror, and the other
gently stroked his sheaf of nettles down inside the amber crease, making sure he
amply coated the little wrinkled pinky brown entrance of her exposed anus. 
Their duty done, the two men walked back to the committee table and received a
nod of appreciation from the chairman as Marenkova howled and shrieked, her
blushing bottom already writhing in desperate pain, the lascivious wriggling
doing nothing to appease my painfully straining penis.

By this time, young Magda Marenkova had passed out in the crowd and was being
revived with smelling salts in order to watch her mother's whipping while the
young boy stood with head in hands weeping quietly.
The committee chairman himself, a strong brawny man, picked up the sheaf of
birch rods and walked to where the naked woman stood writhing and shaking, tears
of anguish flowing down her face.
'I shall be relatively merciful in view of your nettling ...' he said quietly
and firmly '...for I know how you are suffering, Jana Marenkova.  However you
have brought this upon yourself by your attitude in the past and your arrogance
this morning.  I hope you have learned your lesson.  You must be very sore and
very ashamed and it is not over yet.  However, in view of the state of your
bottom, the birching is reduced to fifteen strokes and I will deliver them
quickly and at half strength ...but you will still know about it, believe me! 
Now prepare yourself!'

Jana Marenkova gave a loud sobbing wail then stiffened her body against the
post, but her attempts to clench her bottom cheeks only resulted in another wail
of pain as the tightening skin simply irritated the nettle burns on her anus. 
She let her bottom relax and as she did so the first swish of the birch whistled
across both the plump upper cheeks of her arse.  As she squealed out in pain, so
the man flicked his wrist and again the fantail of birch rods whistled across
Jana's burning bottom, this time a little lower down and her shrieking was
almost deafening.  Three more strokes followed in swift succession which had
Jana hopping about, her magnificent bottom shuddering, writhing and glowing like
a beacon.  Where the whippy stripes of the birch had whipped across the nettle
scars, little blood blisters had opened and tiny trickles of blood had begun to
run down the woman's legs.  When she felt these, Jana began to cry out in panic
but to no avail.

The man paused for just a few seconds to assess the seriousness of the damage,
peering closely at the bleeding buttocks, then reassured he flicked his wrist
again five times in succession, each stroke whipping hard across Jana's bottom,
the last two on the underside of her arse where bottom meets thigh and she
screamed out in agony.  Little droplets of blood were seeping from every nettle
wound now but she was not spared as the last five strokes were delivered rather
harder and with deadly accuracy from waist to thigh, the birch covering every
inch of her bottom cheeks.

By the time the chairman laid down the birch rod and inspected his handiwork,
Jana's bottom was as red as a traffic light and there must have been at least
thirty different scar marks from which tiny trickles of blood oozed down her
bottom and thighs.
'It's over, Jana...' the chairman said quietly '...and I'm sorry it had to be
this way but you were in need of a very severe correction and you've had one.  I
trust you will take this lesson to heart and never try and cheat your neighbours
again!'
The sobbing woman sagged against the post and nodded her head in weak
acknowledgment as the chairman called for a clean blanket.  One was laid on the
grass and the woman was cut down from the post.  As she was carried, half
fainting to the blanket, I could see her quivering breasts were soaked in
perspiration and that there were spots of water just gently dripping from
between her legs.  Looking at the bottom of the whipping post I could see it was
soaked in the anguished woman's urine.

Jana was laid face down on the blanket and an elderly woman was summoned from
the crowd onto the square.  She knelt down beside the prostrate victim, stroking
her hair and muttering gentle reassurance, before producing a tube of ointment. 
The old lady proceeded to anoint the punished bottom across every inch of its
blemished cheeks and right inside the amber crease, not sparing the stuff, until
the whole area was covered in white cream.  The punished woman lay on her
stomach for some fifteen minutes, her body shaking with shock and humiliation as
the crowd looked on with interest until she felt strong enough to get up and get
dressed.  She was helped into her underskirt and dress by her young daughter,
her bra and pants of course having been ripped to shreds, and finally with both
weeping children holding an arm, the anguished,sobbing Jana Marenkova was
allowed to walk unsteadily to her home as the crowd began to reluctantly
disperse.

When I got back to the inn, I was still in a state of high sexual excitement,
shaking like a leaf and I had to walk around for ten minutes and compose myself
before going in.  Connie was of course still involved down at the square and I
encountered Petra laying the tables for dinner.  It was obvious from her
expression that she knew exactly what had happened for as I opened my mouth she
stared at me, her face red and angry, her lips pursed then said 'Mr Cowper,
before you speak, I beg you say nothing to me of what happened down there.  I do
not wish to be rude to a guest but I cannot express my feelings on what they
have done.  I shall nothing to my husband either but he knows how I feel and
will avoid me all day!'  I nodded and promised and she said sternly 'Very well
then, thank you!' and for the rest of my weeks stay, this incredible event was
never mentioned in Petra's presence.

I will finish now, but I have had an experience which has made me examine myself
closely and I do not like what I find.  I have never seen anything so
disgraceful, so painful and so humiliating, yet neither have I ever been so
sexually aroused by any single event in my life...'

There ended Alan's letter and consequently the story.  It seems that in Mother
Russia today some very rough justice prevails!

END.