“You were specifically unlocked from the coffle, Trudy, and taken to the outlaw, Nykobe.” Rulua’s voice was troubled. “Please tell the Court why.”
“Because he wanted to fuck me.”
“Trudy, that’s awful!”
“Well, not really. You see—”
“I am referring to that shocking word.”
“Sorry. I thought that was the one you’d want me to use.”
“Do you wish to tell this Court you were raped?” The prisoner giggled. “Well no, I suppose not.”
“In other words you granted access to your body to an enemy of the State?”
“Mmmmmm, if you want to put it that way.”
“Were you bound when the act was consummated?”
Trudy giggled again. “I was handcuffed behind my back. It made it awfully difficult to lay down and sort of—sort of—lifted my bottom up a bit.”
“Trudy, are you being facetious?”
“Well, Captain, it does seem a lot of fuss about nothing.” Trudy looked around brightly at the stern, or concerned, faces of the court-martial. “If I’ve done something bad, couldn’t you just cane my behind or my hands or something?”
“The implications are not as trivial as you seem to think, dear.” Rulua strove to keep her tone ponderous enough to impress. “Not only have you given comfort to the enemy, but you have publicly made confessions beneficial to his Cause.”
“I was just doing what I was asked. And I bet none of the people in the crowd even bothered to listen. They were all looking at the Troop without its clothes on. There was one chap I noticed—”
“Trudy, pay attention! Do you wish to tell us you were tortured into complying with the enemy’s demands?”
“Gosh no! He’s really awfully nice. If you could just meet him—”
“That’s enough! And you were naked through these, er, experiences?”
“They burned my uniform.”
“Surely you could have found some covering?”
“I never thought of it. Being naked’s really awfully handy, and I’ve been naked so often.”
“You’re not taking this seriously enough, dear. You must—”
“Let me have a go at her, eh?” Ringbolt’s voice was testy, but his fierce gaze held affection for the girl on trial. His reasoning was a series of barks. “You’ve inked your blotter, dammit! Not so much yours as ours. You’re one of our guards, see! And all these wogs out there know damn well Nykobe shoved it into you, and then they heard what you had to say on that ruddy platform. Damn poor show! Leaves us with a red face unless we do something . . . !”
“I do understand, sir. You have to make an example—”
“Dammit, girl, that’s the word I was looking for. The wogs have to know our justice is fair to both sides. We’ve just sent twenty of their little pigeons off into slavery. The least we can do is show ’em we can punish one of ours.”
“You put it so well, sir. I won’t mind a bit.” The Court exhaled a collective sigh. Trudy made an admirable prisoner. But surely a defendant should—!
“I don’t want to put you to a lot of trouble . . .” The bound delinquent looked around smilingly. “Let’s just say I’m guilty. You can cane my bottom in public and everyone will feel better.”
“My dear, this means more than the caning of your bottom,” Rulua explained sadly. “We use the cane too much. It ill befits all transgressions.”
A cold hand clutched Trudy’s heart. “You’re not going to—I mean, you’re not thinking of—putting me in prison?”
“Yes, dear.”
“You mean locked alone in a little stone room with a little window with bars . . . ? And would I be chained?” Trudy’s query was tremulous.
“I’m afraid so, dear.”
The girl with bound hands was trying to glimpse the enormity of a vision too awful to contemplate . . .
“And I’d be locked in there for days or weeks . . . !” She peered further into horror. “Or months—? Or years—?”
“It is a possible sentence, Trudy.”
“But I couldn’t bear it! I just couldn’t! I’d want to die!” She swept an appealing gaze from one sympathetic face to another. “I’d sooner be flogged a hundred times.”
The Court sighed again. “But, dear, we don’t want to have you flogged. We have hoped to avoid—”
“Flog me! Oh please—not prison!” Trudy’s voice broke in the violence of her distress.
“Control yourself, gel!” the W.O. admonished severely. “How about a nice face—saving sentence of thirty days in a cell? And none of this hardware business. Your hands can stay tied the way they are.”
“No, oh no! Don’t lock me up!”
“Damn gel’s claustrophobic.” W.O. Ringbolt looked around aggressively. “Wouldn’t do to lock her up. Damn pity! She’s a nice kid. Ruddy shame to have to fall back on lacing her hide.” He paused thoughtfully. “On the other hand it does make a bloomin’ fine show for the wogs.”
The Court had decided on a compromise.
“I suppose it’s not a bad decision,” Captain Rulua said reflectively. “It makes a satisfactory display of you—and since you’re so frightened of prison . . . !” She surveyed the timber ‘T’ with distaste. “Personally I’d sooner put in that thirty days in a cell.”
“But I’ve only been sentenced to twenty-four hours of this!”
“It will seem like twenty-four days, love. Believe me!”
“Well, it’s settled now and that’s the end of it. Oh, Rulua, I didn’t want that prison thing! I’m sorry if I’m ungrateful.” The repentant prisoner gazed without joy at the structure awaiting her nakedness. “I suppose that’s what I get fixed to?” she asked wanly.
“Sergeant Galla will tie you, Trudy. Nice and tight.”
Galla had carried a box from the Jeep. She placed it against the upright post. “Let me have your hands, dear.”
Trudy turned and gazed at her punishment while the ropes were taken from her wrists. When her hands fell free she scratched her nose, her eyes mischievous. “I’m doing this now because I won’t be able to later . . . I guess you want me to step up on that box?”
“Your back to the wood, dear.”
Sadly, the sergeant found another box and used it to stand on herself while she completed her task. The ‘T’ was not six feet high, but she wanted to do a good job and present a well-bound captive to the community. She did not want to punish her trooper at all.
“My hands out along this bit across the top, Galla?”
“That’s right, arms way out.”
“I’ll look pretty, won’t I! I know I won’t like it but it’s better than looking untidy.”
They adored her as they performed their distasteful task. Trudy had a way with her: Trudy was special. The post had been set in the centre of a small playing area by the town school. No one need pass by, but the ‘T’ and its nude burden would be visible to all of Moghata. The children would soon carry word of a maiden’s penitence. Interested spectators could come as close as they wished and stay and ogle for as long as they liked. For the girl being bound it was as good a place as any.
“Gosh, Galla, you’re making my tummy tight. Why all that rope!”
“You see why in a minute, love.”
Trudy’s wrists were roped, her elbows were roped, her armpits were roped. Each group of bands was emphasised and made more tight by a circling cinch or two. From her hips up she was now immobilised, save for her fingers and her head she could not even twitch. Her breasts jutted, her cinched middle causing her lungs to inflate her chest . .
“Sorry about this one, Trudy love.” Galla was busy with strands between the unbound legs. They went down from the waist strictures one on each side of her pussy, protruding its lips in a pout, then up the back to be tugged and pulled so as to demandingly divide her crotch. “I’m afraid it’s part of the picture.” Thoughtfully, she tied a knot. Then took away the box.