("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: yolanda3.txt (MMF, exh, nc, ws, v) Authors name: Elmer B. Ben (elmerbigben@hotmail.com) Story title : Yolanda's Story: Part 3 -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Yolanda's Story: Part 3 (MMF, exh, nc, ws, v) by Elmer B. Ben (elmerbigben@hotmail.com) *** Yolanda having been transported to eighteenth Century Europe from her comfortable middle class 21st century suburban life finds her fate a sorry one in this strange place from the past. Betrayed by almost every man she meets she is arrested, humiliated, forced to accept unwelcome sexual advances and finally imprisoned awaiting corporal punishment at the whipping post. She longs to return to our present time and misses greatly her only one true friend in this strange time and place, Jennifer Barstow, the sister of her erstwhile lawyer, Percival Barstow. What is to be her ultimate fate? Punishment They come for her in the darkest, coldest part of the night, the hour before dawn, She hears their heavy boots clomping on the cobblestone floor of the corridor of her cell block long before they reach the door to her cell and pause there. She hears hushed voices in the hallway and her heart skips several beats as she hears the heavy iron key rattling in the lock. She has not slept well since she arrived here at Grey Rock Prison. Each day, each hour could bring the dreaded carrying out of her sentence, her sentence of harsh corporal punishment. Moreover the time frame allotted by the court of two months has nearly expired and she has known the time must be near. The seven plus weeks in this hellhole have not been pleasant, the food has been vile and cold, the sanitary facilities nonexistent except for the odiferous little pile of straw in the corner one day replaced by the equally odiferous chamber pot. A bucket of cold water and a dipper has served both for quenching her thirst and minimal bathing. There are the weekly bathing sessions, however, performed with the hard milled soap and cold water by a fellow inmate, a shy unhappy woman embarrassed by such an onerous task. This presided over by a chief wardress gleefully openly enjoying the discomfiture of the two women. Then, too, is the cold dank atmosphere of her cell, especially at nighttime. She soon learns basic comforts are to be paid for or rather earned in her case. The price of a warm blanket offered by a male guard is fallatio performed at his whim; warm water for her bath and being allowed to perform her own ablution is bought at orally pleasuring the wardress. Mild soap and warm water for the weekly bath are bought at the expense of more extensive sexual favors. Shame and dignity must be cast aside if she is to endure what is to come and, to survive what is beyond Twice she has received visitors, the first time blessed sweet Jennifer who apologizes profusely for her brother's betrayal (he has since secured a position with the Prosecutor's office as assistant in matters of misdemeanors, a fairly lucrative position for a young, as yet inexperienced, barrister); it is Jennifer who offers her lodging and help in gaining some sort of gainful and legitimate employment after her ordeal here is past. On the second visit Jennifer brings with her the judge who presided over her arraignment. He is a kindly man who sympathizes with her predicament and pronounces his regrets he could do no more for her at the arraignment. He is likewise interested in her version of the unfamiliar legal concepts. He is mystified from whence and where she came. Yolanda is no help there for she is as puzzled as anyone else by what has happened to her. Within her still stirs the faint hope the situation will reverse itself and she will return home before the worst happens. But the time as come and there is no longer time for hope. Things will move fast from now on and Yolanda will have little time for thought or for hope. She has lain awake this night as many nights before, lain awake in uneasy anticipation of what must surely be near, the carrying out of her harsh sentence in this awful place. She has lain on her straw tick watching through the small barred window at the ominous shadows dancing on the wall of the corridor, shadows cast by the flickering flames of the torches that line the walls at intervals along the corridors. The light from these torches flood her cell as the door creaks open on rusty hinges and the guards enter. Two of the men stand just inside her cell on either side of the open doorway; another, the captain of the guard enters and stands before her bed. "Arise and stand before us," he commands. Yolanda complies standing on shaking legs before him her hands at her sides. "Remove yer garment," he commands. Yolanda shivers in the early morning cold taken from the warm blanket and straw tick to stand naked before them. Goose pimples break out and she involuntarily rubs her arms and hugs her arms around her body for what little warmth that will afford. The guards step back enjoying her display of nudity as well as her obvious discomfiture. The captain produces a legal document from his westcot and proceeds to read it. "Yolanda Price, name of record from the High Court of His Majesty, I am obliged to read ye the following.." Upon reading pronouncement of her sentence and intent to carry it out at this time the captain produces wrist and leg shackles which Yolanda must wear to the post. "Please, must I be naked all the way there? Can I not be covered at least until it is time?" she asks tearfully. The captain produces a short cape, one that will not cover the whole of Yolanda's privacy as she would wish, but is better than nothing she thinks. Even this small deference to her wishes is to have its price Yolanda soon discovers. Grabbing a handful of her long thick hair the captain bends her head back and kisses her roughly. Thereupon he fondles her intimately in the presence of the other two men who stand there looking on leering obscenely. Not wanting to "hog the patch" as he puts it the captain offers Yolanda to the other two quickly go about the business of passing her back and forth between themselves and the captain all the while taking the most outrageous and indecent liberties with her person. However unwilling Yolanda submits and becomes sexually aroused. Looking up at the lightening day beyond the skylight the captain admonishes, "We'd better get to it boys er we'll be late an' the warden won't like that I'll tell ye". One last indignity before Yolanda can don the cape and be led shackled down the long hallway of the cell block to the prison courtyard where she is to be flogged before witnesses: one last indignity and one last humiliation she must endure. "It is best ye relieve yerself if ye haven't lately miss. Best to do it now than when ye stand at the post and can't help it before them people out there." One of the guards retrieves the soiled chamber pot from the far corner of the cell and shoves it between Yolanda's quivering thighs. Thus she is invited to piss in their presence rather than before the spectators gathered outside. Reluctantly she complies, the guards leering gleefully as she does so. In this manner Yolanda is treated in the moments before she is to receive more pain and humiliation than she has never heretofore known. Yolanda's courage fails her as she is led down the long gray corridor and at last her knees, shaky at best, give way beneath her. She begins to sob, tears stream down her face and her heart beats wildly. A guard on each side of her holds her up by her upper arms, the captain following behind unceremoniously gooses her, bringing fresh sobs and tears. Stopping at the end of the long corridor at the huge iron door that leads out into the courtyard they listen as the last sharp cracks of a whip land on yielding tender flesh and faint screams subside from whatever convict presently stands at the awful gibbet. Yolanda hears and believes the screams come from another female. As the prisoner, after being loosed from her bonds, is half led half carried past the iron door Yolanda judges the soft moans she hears to be female. She will sound like that she thinks. In the short moments before they enter the courtyard Yolanda's guards show no compassion or pity. They molest her furiously, french kissing her roughly, squeezing, pinching and inserting rough fingers into soft tender parts of Yolanda's anatomy. The sheer excitement of it all arouses her, much to her chagrin. The door opens on to a rush of newly cold air but also to a bright sun appearing over the eastern wall of the prison. Yolanda and her guards are bathed in bright morning sunlight much to the delight of the audience assembled there. They are gathered there to watch a naked female prisoner, this time a very beautiful naked female prisoner, be ruthlessly scourged by the masked beetle who stands near the Post carefully oiling and flexing his instruments of torture. This is common in this time and place; invitees of the warden and those who pay a pretty price to watch such a spectacle are gathered on this cold crisp morning. Amanda shivers anew, trembling violently as he is led out the doorway. Determined to maintain a modicum of poise and dignity Yolanda refuses the assistance of her guards and strides determinedly toward the tall black post at the center of the courtyard. On wobbling knees she approaches it appalled at the sight of it but with head still held high. For long moments she approaches it not seeming to draw any nearer with each step. The walk seems interminable. Though, at last, she is there. The Post as it is euphemistically called is in reality a tall black pole from which protrudes a braced arm from which dangles a thick hemp rope from which in turn dangle long leather straps. Attached to these are fur lined leather shackles. A notch at the top of the arm allows the hemp line to be either lengthened or shortened as to the times it is looped in the notch. A prisoner is generally hoisted almost on to tiptoes so that his (or her) body is stretched taut for the most advantageous exposure to the whip. Yolanda stands in the shadow of this monstrous structure and peers up the length of the thing. In spite of her self she quavers and fresh tears fill her eyes. "Please don't..." she whispers, her voice trailing of into nothingness. Two assistants of the beetle step forward and take the place of her guards. They quickly strip away the cape and render her perfectly naked. Even the thin sandals are removed from her feet. The small crowd assembled cheers. As Yolanda's arms are pulled far above her head and her slight wrists fastened in the leathern shackles Amanda peers into the far corner of the courtyard in the directions of the assemblage. Perhaps the prosecutor is there, perhaps even Percival Barstow. Surely not Tom Turner; he could not afford such entertainment. The audience, however, is shielded in shadows and Yolanda cannot perceive individual faces. Here men sit in attendance with reluctant wives or mistresses. Some have employed the services of ladies of ill repute, some of whom have stood at this very post themselves, convicted of prostitution or perhaps occasionally of thievery. Male hands furtively steal underneath voluminous skirts and female hands slip under lap robes and light blankets to fondle the male genitalia of their companions. Most all have paid a pretty price, indeed, for this entertainment and intend to enjoy it to the fullest. Liquor flasks warm the innards of male and female alike as they await the fun to come. At last Yolanda is secured to the post in a manner suiting the wishes of the beetle. Displayed to the fullest, stretched taut and fully exposed to the eyes of the onlookers Yolanda is breathtaking in her beauty. A sigh of satisfaction is heard in the direction of the onlookers. Overcome by fear and excitement Yolanda is overcome by the sheer power and expectancy of the movement. Her body weak, chest heaving Yolanda surrenders her self to the intense eroticism of the moment. Fully aware of what effect she is having on the spectators Yolanda surrenders her self to the power of her sexuality. Already partially aroused by the actions of the guards she abandons herself further hoping her arousal will ease the sting of the whip and certainly lessen the awful embarrassment. It is the beetle that aids her. Laying aside the whips and the oiling pans he has until now busied him self he steps back to enjoy the complete and utterly enticing display of female nudity before him. Then stepping forward he begins to touch and stroke Yolanda's bare body. With gentle and deft fingers he touches her distended nipples, cups his hand over the bowls of her full bosoms. strokes her smooth soft inner thighs. He kisses her shoulders, strokes his hand lightly over her tight, flat belly. Lastly he cups a hand over her throbbing sex, lightly stroking her tingling clitoris with a practiced fingertip. Yolanda is made to orgasm in public-to the cheers of the onlookers. The time for play is over now. He steps back and picks up his favorite whip, limber and supple, well oiled braided and fringed at the tip. Yolanda takes one last look at the morning sun, at the nearly cloudless blue sky before she closes her eyes. Already she hears the sharp hiss of the stroke as the whip cuts through the crisp morning air. She braces herself (a mistake) just before the lash burns a line of hot stinging fire across her quivering buttocks. Mercifully, Yolanda faints immediately. Conclusion "Andi, Andi..." Yolanda opens her eyes to the sound of her nickname. She has not heard it for how long? "Andi are you all right? Maybe you'd better wake up now." The voice is familiar. Familiar and it awakens anger in Yolanda. Sitting upright in her bed in her home in Binghamton, NY she winces in momentary pain. Instinctively reaching back she runs her fingers gingerly over the angry red welt that runs all the way across both cheeks of her tender ass. Then she turns her head to look straight into the concerned face of...Tom Turner. "You son of a..." she starts to say then remembers all has changed somehow. She is home! Thank God and all that is holy he is home and in her own comfortable bed. "Andi we were so worried about you. You had that terrible fever and kept turning and tossing in your sleep. I think you were delirious. You kept talking in your sleep and saying things that didn't make any sense." He left out the parts where she had orgasmed several times and peed the bed once. Tears filled Yolanda's eyes. "I'm sorry Tommy," she told her boyfriend, "I just had this terrible nightmare and in my dream you..." She did not finish nor did she show him the big sore place on her ass. "Strangest thing I wanted to tell you- there's a girl downstairs. She's really weird. She's dressed in old, I mean old time clothes and she talks kind of weird, too. She says she doesn't know where she is or what day it is but something told her to come here, like she had a premonition or something I guess." Yolanda sat up straight in bed, fully awake now. "Go on, go ahead. What else did she say?" "She said her name was Jenny, Jenny Barrow or Jenny Barlow. Something like that." "You mean Jennifer Barstow don't you?" "Yeah, that's it. I told her this was your place and I'd let you know she was here as soon as I could. She seemed to know you but I never heard you mention her except..." "Except you heard me say her name in my delirium." "Yeah, that's it. How did you know?" "I just did, Tommy. Did you treat her well?" "Of course I did. I sat her down and asked her if she wanted something to drink while she waited." She said, "A spot of tea would be fine." "Now who talks like that?" "Never mind. I'm going to get up and shower now. Tell her I'll be down in a few. Tell her that she's come to the right place; that I'm here and everything is going to be all right. Be kind to her." "Yes ma'am. I'm sure glad to see you'r finally well, Andi." Tommy turns to leave and just reaches the bedroom door when she calls. "Oh, and Tommy, I want you to know I forgive you." "Forgive me. Forgive me for what?" "Never mind. Just care for our guest till I get there." As he leaves Tommy Turner is heard to mutter, "Women, who can figure them." FIN (As they say at the end of the art theatre movie) Elmer B. Ben ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life in anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider seeking professional help. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 17