Captain Benson rested his elbows on the desk and leaned forward in his chair, which creaked under the weight of his hefty body. The air in his office was hot and stifling, making his throat feel dry and tight. Outside, in the prison yard, the blazing midsummer sun beat down mercilessly. Glancing through the window, he saw three upright wooden posts being fixed to holes in the dusty ground. He cleared his throat with a rasping cough and wiped sweat from his blubbery face, before looking up with an angry frown.

In front of his desk stood a trio of young women, each with a blue-uniformed jailer standing at the rear. The jailers were tall, muscular men with swarthy, unshaven faces and cruel eyes. They loomed like giants over the three women who, by contrast, were slender and petite. Two of the women were long-haired blondes in their early twenties, while the third was a pony-tailed brunette in her late teens. All three wore the typical garb of female prisoners: a plain, sleeveless, knee-length dress in coarse gray cotton. All three stared nervously at the seated captain, who returned their gaze with a glare of malice.

"Welcome back, you stinking bitches," he snarled. "Your attempt to escape has failed miserably. And now, in accordance with the regulations, you will be punished for your insolence. Which of you planned the escape?"

"Me, sir," said one of the blondes, a woman of proud and dignified appearance. "I planned the whole thing. Punish me in whatever way you choose, but I beg you to spare my friends. They played only a small part in all of this."

Benson stroked his stubbly jowls and scratched a sore on his bald, sunburned scalp. "So, Martina," he said. "You are the ringleader, as I suspected. But your deluded comrades must share your guilt and receive an appropriate punishment. Unless, of course, they are happy for you to bear the full burden of prison justice."

The other blonde, whose features were softer than Martina's, took a sharp breath and bared her pearl-white teeth. "No, Captain Benson," she said calmly. "All three of us will share the punishment." Turning to the pony-tailed brunette standing beside her, she added: "We are in this together, from start to finish. None of this is Martina's fault alone."

"Brave words, Colleen," the fat captain said mockingly. "Brave but foolish, I fear." Pointing towards the young brunette, he glowered at Colleen and asked: "Do you really wish to condemn poor little Jenny to a brutal whipping?"

Colleen nibbled her lips anxiously but gave no reply. She glanced again at the pony-tailed girl, whose pretty face was frozen in terror. In the uncertain silence the captain sniggered rapaciously, relishing the torment in the eyes of the three women. The trio of burly jailers standing at the rear nudged each other and grinned, but Martina's limbs stiffened and she clenched her fists at her sides.

"Please, sir," she said. "Please let my friends be spared. Colleen suffers badly with a weak heart, while Jenny is just a kid of eighteen. Let them go back to their cells without harm. Unleash the full force of your vengeance upon my body, if you must, and I will endure it for the sake of my comrades."

These valiant words prompted the teenage brunette to murmur gently: "No, Martina. We cannot let you suffer alone. Colleen and I will stand beside you in the place of punishment."

Benson laughed coldly and rubbed his huge hands together. His fingers were greasy with sweat. "Such heroism from sweet little Jenny!" he mocked. "Such tender loyalty among criminals! But tell me, Jenny, how many lashes do you think your lovely young body can take? Twenty, perhaps? Or maybe thirty?"

"I do not know, sir," Jenny answered, though her voice trembled.

The captain leaned back in his chair, patting his obese belly and giving a loud belch. "The penalty for an attempted escape is very severe," he announced, licking his fat lips as he spoke. "Fifty strokes of the horsewhip, or the bullwhip, or the bamboo cane. I have yet to decide which instrument shall be used on each of you today." He belched again, then waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Haul these pathetic bitches away!" he growled at the jailers. "Prepare them for immediate punishment. Strip them naked and take them out to the yard."

"Yes, sir!" the men replied, before grabbing the three prisoners by the hair and hustling them out of the room.

* * * * * *

Ten minutes passed. The afternoon sun seared down on the dusty yard at the rear of the jail. Captain Benson shambled out, shielding his eyes from the dazzling glare. Walking clumsily, he heaved his enormous bulk to the center of the yard, where the three upright posts now stood firmly in the ground. Half a dozen jailers in peaked caps and blue uniforms lounged nearby, grinning and smirking as they waited for the punishment to commence. The men seemed excited and fidgety as they stared at the three captives.

Martina and her two companions stood with their backs against the posts and their arms tied behind. Thin ropes bound their wrists, knees and ankles very tightly to the rough timber. All three were completely nude. Their sleek, slender bodies attracted lewd remarks from the jailers, who amused each other by taking photographs with a small camera. A large cardboard box near the men held a selection of canes and leather whips. Captain Benson reached down into the box to retrieve three items: a four-foot length of thin bamboo, a slender horsewhip of brown leather and a huge black bullwhip. Clutching all three in his left hand, he walked over to stand in front of Martina, whose keen blue eyes fixed him with a defiant stare.

Benson smiled, relishing the sight of Martina's gorgeous naked body. Her smooth skin gleamed with a layer of sweat as she stood bound and exposed in the burning sunshine. Her long blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders to swirl like golden silk on the upper surfaces of her breasts. The overweight captain stared at her heaving bosom before using his free hand to stroke the sensitive pink flesh around her nipples. Martina gasped at the unwelcome touch and muttered a curse. Her eyes glinted with rage but she could do nothing to escape the hideous caress. In desperation she tugged at her bonds, but her frantic movements merely jiggled her beautiful boobs.

Again the fat captain smiled, but now he uncoiled the bullwhip and trailed it slowly down her panting torso, letting the rough black leather dangle over the flattened hollow of her belly and between her trembling legs. The latter were pressed tightly together by the ropes around her knees but her pubic hair was clearly visible as a mat of blonde bristles at the apex of her thighs. Benson dangled the bullwhip in such a way that its tip lightly brushed her pubes. Her body stiffened in response, but her cry of protest brought chuckles from the audience of men.

"How does it feel?" Benson asked calmly, though his eyes flickered with sadistic glee. "Do you like the touch of the bullwhip, Martina? Shall I use it to flog your tits, or should I perhaps use the horsewhip instead? Or maybe the bamboo cane?"

Grinning and sniggering, he clutched the cane and used it to lift Martina's chin. Then, to the amusement of his henchmen, he pressed the bamboo against her throat until she could barely breathe.

"The cane is usually reserved for the buttocks," he continued. "However, it is also a useful tool when severe punishment needs to be inflicted. Can you imagine the pain, Martina, as the cane comes down hard on your nipples? Do you think your belly and thighs could endure a prolonged thrashing from this slender stick of bamboo? And yet it is far less painful than the horsewhip, or so I am told."

Martina coughed and spluttered when her tormentor finally released the pressure on her throat. She inhaled deeply, gasping for breath as she filled her lungs with huge gulps of air. The captain laughed at her discomfort and moved along to stand in front of Colleen, who stood tied to the middle post. He found Colleen's body particularly pleasing, for she was the most voluptuous of the three captives and was endowed with a fabulous figure. Like Martina, she was blonde and beautiful, but with a fuller bosom and curvy hips. Whereas Martina's face was lean and finely-sculpted, Colleen's was round and smooth. Her soft, pink mouth seemed always to be fixed in a sensual pout that gave a glimpse of her perfect white teeth. Her eyes, like Martina's, were blue and bright. They blinked nervously now, like the eyes of a frightened deer, as they met the fat captain's leering gaze.

With his right hand, Benson cupped Colleen's left breast, weighing the heavy globe in his sweaty palm. Then he gently squeezed the flesh, before running his thumb over the large brown nipple. Colleen whimpered softly and her eyelashes fluttered. Her pouting lips parted slightly to form a pink oval that the captain found irresistible. With a lustful snarl he kissed her, clamping his mouth so firmly onto hers that his stubbly jowls scratched her cheek. Like a rabid beast he slavered and slurped, shoving his tongue between her teeth while she moaned in protest. His hand continued to squeeze her breast, before moving down to grope the triangle of honey-colored curls at her crotch.

"You're so beautiful!" he growled, breaking suddenly from the kiss. "Too beautiful to be whipped. But the punishment must be given nonetheless." Withdrawing his hand from her crotch, he held up the horsewhip and brandished it in front of her face. "See this?" he added. "I have decided to use this on Martina, which means you get flogged by the bullwhip or the cane. Which do you choose?"

"Which is worse?" Colleen inquired anxiously. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as her tongue tasted the sourness of the captain's saliva inside her mouth.

"The bullwhip is deadlier than the cane," Benson answered. "In fact, the government banned the use of bullwhips in female prisons after a woman was unwittingly flogged to the brink of death. That was twenty years ago, and the woman was a tough guerilla leader who was bigger and stronger than any of the men under her command. She received thirty lashes on her bare back but fainted after the twenty-fourth stroke. Since then, the bullwhip is forbidden as a device of punishment." He paused to give a cruel smile as he savored the horror in Colleen's tearful eyes. "Forbidden," he repeated. "But some veterans from the good old days, such as myself, like to break the law occasionally. Today is indeed a special occasion, so I will use my old bullwhip on one of you three bitches. Will it be you, Colleen, or are you too beautiful to be flogged so brutally?"

Colleen glanced sideways to where Jenny stood naked and bound a few paces away. The petite teenager sobbed quietly and bowed her head. Her chin rested on her chest, while her dark brown ponytail hung over her left shoulder. Colleen stared at her in pity, before turning back to the captain.

"Yes, you must use the bullwhip on me," she said courageously, though with a quiver of fear in her voice. "If it is indeed the deadliest tool of all, then it must not be used on Jenny."

"The prison doctor tells me that you have a weak heart, Colleen," Benson mused. "I think the bullwhip might slay you before the punishment is complete, for I intend to wield it with every ounce of my strength. I do not wish to flog any prisoner to death, especially not someone as gorgeous as you." He tapped her right nipple with the tip of the cane and said: "You will therefore be spared the bullwhip. Instead, this skinny length of bamboo will be your pain-giver today. Does my decision please you?"

"You sick old bastard!" Colleen replied. " I hope you rot in your......"

A sudden, brutal slap silenced her protest. The back of the captain's hand struck her face, knocking her head aside. The sound of the blow came as a loud smack! that startled Martina and Jenny, but Benson's henchmen hooted and clapped. Colleen's defiance seemed to disintegrate. She began to weep, closing her eyes as teardrops spilled freely down her cheeks. Then she lowered her head and sagged in her bonds, whimpering softly and shivering in terror.

The fat captain shambled over to Jenny, who raised her weeping eyes to gaze up at him. Her lower lip quivered uncontrollably and her face was white with terror. To Benson she looked small, fragile, deliciously vulnerable and incredibly pretty. The delicate beauty of her soft teenage features took his breath away and aroused his sadistic lust. He longed to see her graceful young body writhing under the hungry lash of a ten-foot bullwhip.

Lifting her chin with his thumb he smiled down at her and saw her nostrils flare in panic as his other hand touched her breasts. Little whimpers squeaked in her throat and she pressed her spine against the hard timber of the post. At the rear, her wrists twisted frantically in their bonds until the skin was red and raw. Her dark ponytail thrashed wildly as she tried desperately to break free, but all she could do was yank her arms in a series of pitiful spasms until the muscles ached. Eventually, she gave up the struggle and stood with her back straight and her buttocks taut, while Benson pawed her breasts with his huge sweaty hands.

"Yes, dear Jenny," he said, when at last he stepped back to admire her youthful figure. "The bullwhip shall be your instrument of justice today. When it strikes like a black serpent across your soft young boobs you will know the meaning of pain. When it lashes your delicate pink nipples I guarantee that you will beg for mercy. Fifty strokes is the punishment for attempting to escape. Prepare yourself, my sweet little angel, for you will need all your strength to survive."

"Please!" Jenny cried tearfully, writhing at the whipping post. The tight ropes around her knees and ankles marked her tender skin as she squirmed helplessly. "Please forgive me, sir! Please don't hurt me!"

Benson dismissed her plight with a rumbling belch, which raised another laugh from his henchmen. One of the latter stepped forward to grab the horsewhip and the bullwhip, both of which were handed over by the captain as he strolled back along the line. Retaining the bamboo cane, and flicking it against his boot, he eventually halted in front of Martina. For a while he allowed his eyes to feast on the pleasant vision of her nude, bound body sweating in the unbearable heat of the afternoon sun. The trailing ends of her long blonde hair were moist from the sheen of perspiration that glistened on her breasts. She stood now in nervous anticipation, panting like a trapped animal as she stared up into the merciless eyes of her captor.

Benson returned her gaze with a leering grin while prodding her flattened belly with the tip of the cane. "Well, my beautiful slut," he snarled. "I think it's time we got started."