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 Certificate of Correction Ch 9--The Birch

   We were led into the yard.  Harriet and I stepped into the brilliant
noonday sun.  There were small, portable elevated bleachers that had been
erected on either side of a scaffold which stood at one end of the enclosed
courtyard.  The courtyard itself was a long rectangle in the center of the
Justice Center complex measuring about 200' by 100'.

   Various dignitaries and "guests" were already seated, some in the
bleachers and some in chairs directly in front of the scaffold.  Stark and
ominous, a whipping post stood in the center of the scaffold.  Off to the
side was a bucket.  Three rods, actually bunches of switches bound at one
end, and wrapped in cheesecloth, protruded from the bucket.  Otherwise the
scaffold was bare except for some chairs.

   As attorneys for the prisoner, Susan Pemberton, we were entitled to be
in front.  No one was permitted on the platform itself except the prisoner
and the corrections department people.

   The punishment detail emerged from a door at one end of the courtyard. A
rather official looking man in his 50's led.  I guessed he was the warden.
Next to him was a uniformed matron.  There were guards on either side of
Susan walking abreast.

   As they approached the scaffold, a uniformed policeman ascended the
platform.  This fellow looked young and fit.  He put down his hat and
started to take off his shirt.  It looked like he was to be the
"executioner".  He was a good looking guy in his 20's, brown curly hair,
trim, actually quite handsome.  Susan looked up and I could see her give a
little start when she realized that a man would be giving her the whipping.
Under any other circumstances she would probably thought him quite good
looking.  I didn't imagine she'd relish him asking her out in view of his
appointed task today.  Unfortunately, he also had wide shoulders and strong
looking arms.

   Susan was wearing the same type of white smock that the girls had worn.
My impression was that the whole procession looked like some pagan
sacrificial rite.  The young officer started to roll his arms and stretch,
loosening up his shoulders.

   The procession arrived at the bottom of the platform.  Susan hesitated,
then, prodded by her escorts, she ascended the stairs.  When all had
reached the top.  The warden pulled out a paper and addressing Susan
started to read it.

   "It's the warrant for execution of the sentence," whispered Harriet. 
She seemed breathless and agitated.  She gripped my hand.  "Poor Susan,
there's nothing we can do for her now...They haven't had a man do the
birching before."

   "Anything in their regulations forbid it?" I asked.  Maybe this wasn't
right.

   "No.  It doesn't say.  It's up to the corrections department.  The
regulations cover things like how many strokes, the size and length of the
rod, that sort of thing." She shivered as she contemplated the police
officer with his shirt off, now clad in a tank top, arms crossed...waiting.

   Up on the platform the warden started to speak.  He read essentially the
same charge as the one read to Allison and Erin

   "...for which crime you will now receive 36 strokes with the island
birch to be delivered as lower discipline to the bare skin.  Do you have
anything you wish to say before sentence is carried out?"

   Susan stammered a nervous "no".

   The warden nodded to the head matron and said, " Secure her to the
whipping post and proceed."

   A sound, yelling from a window above, momentarily diverted everyone's
attention.

   "Susan, Susan, look up, we're here!  You're not alone, Susan!"

   Susan and everyone else looked up to the window above.  There were Erin
and Allison waving with the fist up salute.  Susan seemed to straighten up
her posture at the sight of her friends.

   Next to me Harriet noted, "Uh, oh, trouble.  They're not supposed to do
that." An official was talking to Anna Klochek and pointing to the window.
She nodded and strode off.  I tried to follow but a guard stopped me.

   "No one allowed in this entrance.  You'll have to have an escort."

   I'd have to go back in the front gate when this was over, anyway.  I
returned to Harriet.

   "Are the girls in trouble?" I said.

   "I don't think so.  They'll just tell them to pipe down."

   On the platform Susan was ordered to doff her gown.  She did so
revealing her lush body to the gaze of the spectators.  Being a redhead,
her skin was white.  She had a few freckles, but overall she had a pale
skin tone.  It would redden quickly under the birch.  Susan had an
attractive figure.  Her slender waist flared out into nicely rounded hips
and a full lush derriere.  Her bottom cheeks were both rounded and
prominent.  Nature's perfect spot for punishment.

   The two guards led her to the post and positioned her against a
horizontal bar with a pad that projected out from the post and pushed her
behind out by pressing against her pelvis.  Ankle cuffs were fastened to
ring bolts.  They stretched her hands forward and up, and tied them to a
ring high on the post almost forcing her to stand tiptoe.  This stretched
her thighs and calves slightly and forced her bottom to jut out lewdly,
inviting the rod.

   Susan turned and looked, wild-eyed at the man who would administer her
birching.  He reached into the bucket and selected a rod.  Drawing it out,
he unwrapped it from the cloth and shook it.  The switches deployed,
fanning out to form an end that looked to be about 3"-4" wide.  He swooshed
it through the air several times.  It made an audible whine.

   "They keep it wrapped in wet cheesecloth overnight," said Harriet. 
"Keeps it supple--they don't want it to dry out."

   The young officer looked at the warden.

   "If you are ready, Sgt Wiggins, do your duty.  Proceed with punishment."

   Wiggins took his stance to Susan's right.  He carefully measured the
birch rod so that the splayed end would fall across both cheeks evenly. 
Susan flinched as he tapped her bottom lightly.  Satisfied that his
position was correct, he drew back his arm.  The birch rod made a whining
sound as it descended and a dry thwack!  as it landed.  Susan emitted a
loud hiss, drawing a breath in through clenched teeth.  Someone on the
platform called out, "One".

   Parallel pink lines spang up on the crowns of Susan's buttocks where the
rod had struck.  Susan wriggled and flexed her calves.  Sgt Wiggins lined
up the rod again.

   Swiiishh...thwack!  The impact caused a fleshy ripple of the cheeks of
Susan's rear.  Another sharp hiss from Susan.  I heard a "Two" solemnly
intoned by someone on the platform, apparantly keeping count.

   Swiisshhh...whick!  Another hard swipe from the rod made Susan arch her
head back in pain.  It must be stinging, I thought, but she was mostly
silent yet.  She shifted from foot to foot as if this might alleviate the
sting.  All it did was made her fanny jiggle lasciviously.

   Swissshhh....huick!  Number 4.  A gasp from Susan.

   Swiishhh....thwack!  "5".  Susan thrust forward, arching on tiptoe.  The
pink lines were merging into an overall hot pink hue.

   Swiisshhh....huick!  "6".  Right in the fold at the top of the thighs-a
tender spot.  I could see Susan's whole body tense in painful reaction to
the swipe of the rod.

   Having found a rhythm, Sgt Wiggins now started whipping in earnest,
delivering a stroke, pausing, then pulling back his arm for the next one.
Susan grew more vocal now, yelping as the birch striped her nude fanny
which grew redder with every stripe.  As the rod landed she would tense and
throw her head back.  Her bottom jiggled as the rod struck.

   At number 12, Wiggins stopped to get another rod.  Susan sagged against
the bar gulping.  She was one third of the way through the painful ordeal.
Wiggins took his time unwrapping a second rod.  Susan turned her head to
see what he was doing, her eyes wide with apprehension.

   "Ooh, I can only imagine how frightfully this must be stinging,"
breathed Harriet, her hand still squeezing mine.  "He's really laying into
her."

   I could only agree.  Susan's rear was striped red.  The birch wasn't
heavy, it was more supple and swishy than anything else, but the cumulative
effect must have felt like bee stings on top of bee stings.

   Wiggins was ready to start up again.  This time he delivered the twelve
strokes in sets of three.  He would strike with three quick strokes like
sswish!  swish!  swish!  and pause.  The first time he did this, Susan rose
up on her toes and let out a wail that sounded like "arrrhhh...ahhh...uhh"
at each lick.  After the second set of three she started dancing, hopping
from foot to foot.  It was like she was doing a fanny jiggling dance in
tune to the birch that scorched her shapely seat in such a pitiless manner.
On the third set she yelled in pain, "Arrhh...ahh...nnnhhh" as each stroke
landed.  Wiggins had broken into a sweat now.  His skin revealed by the
tank top glistened with exertion.  He pused to wipe his brow, then
delivered the last three swipes of the second group of 12.  Susan broke
down and shrieked.  Her bottom was starkly red now.  Most most offenders,
this would have been the end of the ordeal.  Susan had 12 more to go.

   She turned her head in our direction as Sgt Wiggins fetched the last
rod. I mouthed, "Almost over." Susan nodded weakly, her tearstained face a
mask of anguish.

   Sgt Wiggins prepared the final rod, shaking the withes to spread them
out.  As he swooshed it through the air, I could see Susan flinch at the
sound.  This time he laid them on in hard even strokes.  As each swishing
lick struck Susan raised up, her buttocks jiggling with the splat of the
rod.  Then she cried out in pain and danced from foot to foot.  She was no
longer in control of her body but was dancing to the tune of the punishing
birch.  By number 28 she was crying continuously and begging shamelessly
for mercy.  At stroke number 32, however she had slumped her body against
the bar and was grinding her pelvis against it in a slow humping motion,
like she was being ridden from behind by a vigorous lover.  Wiggins paused
momentarily, puzzled.

   "Oh, God," said Harriet, "look, she's become sexually aroused.  I saw
this once before." Everyone watched the unmistakeable writhing in stunned
silence.  The lewd display was interrupted by a sharp admonition from the
warden.  "Proceed, Sergeant.  Finish the punishment."

   Sgt Wiggins nodded and drew back his arm, apparantly determined to make
the last few memorable.  Swiisshh....huick!  "Arhhh....ah...ah.." bleated
Susan.  The hardest one yet.  She ground her hips against the bar in a slow
circular motion.  Sweee....thwack!  "34." Susan's fanny bounced lewdly. 
Swiiissshhh....thwick!  "35".  Susan humped up and down, in a frenzied
motion.  Swiisshhh....huick!  "36".  Susan rose on tiptoes and screamed,
probably partly in relief.

   The warden turned to Wiggins.  "Good job Sgt."

   "Thank you sir," he replied and placed the rod in the bucket with the
other spent birches.

   "Untie her and take her back to the infirmary." The attending matrons
approached to do his bidding.  Susan slumped when they untied her.  They
quickly covered her with the loose gown.  Susan's hands gingerly massaged
her punished rear cheeks through the thin cotton, and I could see tears
roll down her face as they led her away.

   "Poor Susan," said Harriet shaking her head.  "What an ordeal!  To be
stripped naked and thrashed with a bundle of switches until you are
screaming and dancing.  It's especially shameful for a woman...to have your
rear end whipped like some schoolgirl...and then to even become aroused by
it!  She will feel the shame of that spectacle for years to come."

   The spectators were beginning to melt away.

   "I guess that's the point," I ventured.  "The pain will fade soon but
she will remember this vividly for the rest of her life.  Let's go retieve
Erin and Allison."

   We went back out front and in through intake.  To our surprise we were
told that the two juveniles had not been released but were being detained
in the office of the deputy juvenile head matron.

   "Well call her," I demanded.  "Those girls are to be released to my
custody."

   The desk officer picked up the phone.  "There is an attorney here, a Mr
Hand.  With him is a Mrs Reeves, an attorney for Susan Pemberton...yes? 
alright, I'll send them back...yes, Carla can escort them.  I will.  Right
away, Ms Klochek."

   Anna Klochek again.  I did not have to be told that this was not good
news.