The Georgia Peach Pt. 03

Her neck was encased in iron, as were her wrists and ankles. Hobbled and fully fettered her progress would be slow and ponderous, designed to be such by the monstrous Lieutenant, making sure to extract every last ounce of humiliation from her degrading walk.

Looking up she saw Mary. Poor Mary. Her House-slave was distraught, mouth agape, hand covering it, tears rolling down her cheek.

"Begin, boy ..." Sampson issued the order to the young drummer, and so the drumbeat began its dramatic and spiteful cadence.

Catherine, with eyes closed, reflected momentarily upon her appalling situation. How had this been allowed to happen? These brutes surely could not simply come into her home, steal whatever they wanted and then enslave her! Especially not if Uncle Billy Sherman was at their head ... could they?

"Move!"

The chained girl covered the distance from the slave pens to the discipline block in slow procession towards her planned merciless punishment. She did not yet know just how ruthless it was going to be.

It was hard for Catherine not to not sway with the horror of it all. The silent malice from certain quarters of the crowd hit her to the core. All that could be heard was the sigh of the early morning breeze, that clank of chains and the harrowing beat of the drum. The gathering throng now stood deathly hushed, an ominous herd of lecherous, gratuitous gawkers.

She choked on her own breath when she saw the loathsome Tom Shepherd grinning lasciviously at her. She stumbled, briefly losing her footing on the hardened mud ruts. He stared unabashed at her sensational exposure, noting every muscle, every little piece of her body moving and trembling as she shuffled along. Catherine knew her movements were provocative, that by facing whip torture she displayed a stimulating show of tarnished grace and femininity ... and she knew how much that would turn the odious man on.

But, despite the appalling nature of the overall scene, it was the raw sheen of her reddened, shaved mons that shocked the most.

"Is that how she conducts her personal hygiene?" Said one abusive male opinion, for it was unknown to most that the deed had being forced upon her during her stay in the slave pen.

"A fucking Reb slut, I knew she was ..." said another, the slurs so obviously coming from the vitriolic voices of the barbarous soldiers.

Then Catherine looked up to see the huge, protruding length of timber getting closer. A sight she had seen so many times before, but never through the eyes that she wore today. It had suddenly become a place of terror, the altar where all hope, all resistance to their will was extinguished. The Whipping Post!

Chapter 27 -- The Whipping Post, 7:30am May 12th 1864

Catherine looked up and stared ahead. "Oh God, my God, have mercy on me Lord." She whispered these words to herself when she saw not just the foreboding length of gnarled wood with the iron rings set into each side, but also the jutting attachment that had been added overnight. She knew from its positioning and shape exactly what it was for, and now realised why she hadn't already been raped. They were saving her for this!

At her right stood the man who was to be her nemesis, the largest of the soldiers, already stripped to the waist, his torso gleaming with perspiration from the early morning sun ... Catherine drew back in terror when the whip caught her eye. A long black handled bull whip with hardened leather that would rip through her skin like a knife in butter.

She struggled and recoiled as horror turned to panic, only to collapse into the clutches of her guards. The air around her had suddenly become thick with an overwhelming sensation of pain and suffering, compounded by anticipation and lust driven excitement. The crowd had followed her procession, closing in behind as she slowly moved along, and was now gathered attentively around the site of her impending punishment. Catherine's whole world spun wildly around, and without realising it she was back on her unsteady feet, pulled upright by the soldiers, who now stood patiently by her side, giving her plenty of time to view the threatening post, and its hovering nightmare ... a huge, dark symbol of barbarity and pain where, in times past, blood had dripped from countless victims' bodies.

The nameless guards gave her a shove of encouragement. Shoulders bunched up, poised on tottering legs, Catherine took a deep breath, trembling, reluctant ... but still she retained a modicum of poise. For in these last moments she was determined to maintain a measure of dignity. She flung her arms upward, refusing the assistance of her escorts, and wrenched herself free of their hold. It was on wobbling legs and wounded feet that she staggered, unaided, the last few steps determinedly toward the whipping post, appalled at the sight of it ... but with her head held high.

Looming before her, she had arrived at the appointed place. Now Catherine saw up close the smooth surface of the carved wooden piece, shaped to be like a man's erect penis ... Once more she felt sick, realising that she was to be raped and whipped simultaneously ... however would she be able to endure?

Body stilled, long hair blowing loose in the breeze, her escorts released the collar and separated her arm and ankle cuffs, temporarily freeing her from restraint.

The drumming stopped and with it the fearful cadence that had marked her demeaning parade to the post. You could almost hear a pin drop as every last man and woman in the gathered throng seemed struck by more than a little awe as they realised that this young, fragile girl really was about to be flogged ... and in full public view!

"Secure her," came the order. Catherine gasped, momentarily closing her eyes, before opening them to glare at the General, her Godfather. Sherman, clearly troubled by this whole occasion, looked away refusing to acknowledge the stares from his Goddaughter.

Catherine's svelte body was hoisted upon the platform, and she was further manhandled onto the crate, unable to do anything to stop her arms being hauled high and her wrists tightened into the manacles. The sedile pushed and prodded at her thighs as she stepped astride it to avoid its penetrative presence from slipping unwittingly between her thighs.

The surrounding anticipation had risen to palpable levels.

Lieutenant Sampson approached her. Despite wanting to ignore his presence, Catherine felt compelled to look him in the eye.

"So, here we are at last Miss McCown," he spoke in patronising tones, which Catherine proceeded to ignore, turning her head away from him.

As he spoke his right hand moved to her mound. There she felt his fingers and thumb massaging her, the not yet deflowered pleasure point of her body, her face twisting as her expression crumpled under his intrusive touch. She just had to remain firm ... but, as his fingers opened her labia and positioned her body as he required, enveloping the wooden phallus with her soft folds, her situation was proving unbearable.

"Ohhhhhhhh, please, stop ..." As his touch became more insistent Catherine unwittingly groaned, much to the delight of the onlookers, or at least most of them. It was no doubt just Mary who offered up a prayer to the Lord as she witnessed the unfolding of this appalling scene.

Her body began to twist and writhe. It was already an agonising experience, and the primary torment had not yet begun. Catherine knew that she could speak now, and save herself so much pain, or remain silent under the whips until she could bear no more...

The Lieutenant had invaded her home. Her Godfather had sanctioned it. If ever she needed a reminder that this entire army were the battalions of the devil himself, then these people were it! Catherine fought against the feelings rising inside her, and let fury consume her. The cords on her neck stood out as she garnered her remaining strength and spirit ... and she spit in Sampson's face.

Instantly the Lieutenant's eyes glowed with indignant rage. Pulling his fingers from her now moist sex, he drew back his shoulder and slapped her full across the face with such vicious force that it threw her whole body sideways, scraping her thighs against the sedile. Catherine flinched at the blow, her cheek throbbing with pain, and she glared back at him, quivering in stunned silence as he addressed the crowd.

"Let the will of the Federal Union be carried out upon this girl's sinful flesh." Sampson's voice almost glowed with righteous indignation, and at this final declaration of her fate, Catherine's heart began pounding so hard it felt like it was going to explode.

Dragged inexorably onward to this very moment, she bucked and thrashed in tear-filled hysteria, arms held tight. "I have nothing to tell you! Nothing!" she shrieked ... if only to convince herself ...

To Be Continued ...