Medical duties at a judicial punishment

Dr. Euridice Jones hadn't applied to become a court doctor out of a prurient interest in witnessing and (indirectly) taking part in the harsh punishment of young female criminals, as so many of her colleagues seemed to have done. On the contrary, she felt it was her duty to ensure that as many convicts as she could manage should be treated with the impartiality and professionalism that she believed everybody deserved. Of course, that didn't mean she could extend any leniency or mercy to the women to whom she was assigned; certain things were expected of her and if she didn't oblige, she would be replaced by someone who would.

When the guards knocked on the examination room door, she opened it herself and she spoke directly to her patient when she said "come in," although it was the guards who propelled their charge through the doorway. They removed the woman's handcuffs, gag and leg irons and stood back, nodding to the doctor by way of greeting. They'd worked together for some years and knew she disapproved of mocking or tormenting the prisoner any more than required by law.

Dr. Jones had no idea what crime had been committed, nor even the sentence, other than that it included at least one judicial flogging, but she didn't need to know in order to do her job. Frankly, she couldn't imagine what this terrified-looking slip of a girl could have done to warrant such a brutal fate, but that was not her responsibility. She merely had to certify that she was physically, mentally and psychologically fit to receive the coming chastisement—and she was expected to certify that; finding the prisoner unfit at this stage would not be tolerated.

Looking through the medical records, she saw that the blonde beauty trembling in front of her was eighteen years, two months and six days old, with no serious injuries, nor any ongoing medical conditions. She must have been convicted very speedily to be awaiting execution of her sentence so soon after attaining adulthood.

"Remove everything you are wearing and place it in the crate to your right," she ordered the young woman gently. "It will be returned to you when you go." That was true whether she was due to be released after her punishment or incarcerated.

The girl undressed hastily, but somewhat clumsily, still being rather inexperienced in the art of quickly stripping for a spanking. Street clothes and jewellery went into the crate, revealing a slender, shapely body with no piercings other than ears. Breathing heavily from nerves made her full, firm breasts rise and fall alluringly and the doctor couldn't fault the guards for failing to hide their obvious interest in the hourglass figure displayed before them. Surprisingly for one fallen foul of the law, there were no obvious marks of recent chastisement apart from her red cheeks that might have been flushed either from embarrassment or from being given a slap or two.

The usual measurements and tests followed, height, weight, reflexes, joint mobility, lung capacity and so forth. The doctor also asked some simple questions to ensure the prisoner was aware of and understood what was going on and took blood and urine samples for later analysis. The girl had a little trouble peeing in front of three strangers at first, but unlike most court doctors, Dr. Jones didn't punish for shy bladders and eventually she managed.

Next up was the cleanliness and pelvic exam and Dr. Jones was pleased to note that her patient's underarm and pubic hair had already been removed leaving no stubble, so that was one thing she didn't have to do herself. The enema wasn't completely spotless, but she felt a warning was sufficient, rather than actual chastisement. The specula she used to examine the blonde internally were both clearly painful to insert and expand, but the teen endured bravely, though not without tears. Finally finished, she told the guards they could take the prisoner away and they shackled and gagged her again, before leading her naked to the rest area where she would wait to be summoned. The delay (and the screams from the execution chamber) would allow her to become increasingly terrified of what she faced.

Meanwhile, the doctor finished her report and filed it electronically just in time for the next knock on the door.

"The prisoner is in good health and I see no reason she should not face the full rigour of the sentence awarded. My examination revealed that she is not pregnant, nor is she virgo intacta." That last part was not strictly necessary, but she knew some judges liked to know, so she added it as a matter of course. It oughtn't to make any difference to how the girl was treated, but unfortunately, women seen as sluts had even less chance of receiving mercy than virgins.

"Thank-you, Doctor. Bring forward the prisoner!"

The guards obeyed and Dr. Jones saw she was blushing all the way down to her stiff pink nipples (it was quite cold in the execution chamber, but that would change when the whipping started). They removed the gag, but kept the other restraints for now.

"Young lady, you have been sentenced to receive fifty strokes of the penal rod, followed by one hundred lashes of the judicial knout," the judge continued. "Do you understand?"

At this point, the blonde teen broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, but she managed to blub out an affirmative that satisfied the justice. Without the guards holding her arms, she might have collapsed, but now they freed her from her shackles and she had to stand on her own.

"Bend over the bar and touch your toes. If you move from that position, your punishment will be doubled."

The bar in question was in the middle of the stage and had already been adjusted to waist height using the measurements provided by the doctor. The columns supporting it also held another well above the prisoner's head, but that would only be used during the second portion of the chastisement. The blonde shuffled forwards under the lights that illuminated the scene for the television cameras that would record her flogging for posterity, then assumed the required posture. Her pale bottom was round and pert, perfect for caning, although her lean thighs were considerably more delicate.

After consulting with the anonymous witnesses concealed behind a screen of one way glass (including lawyers, family members and any potential victims), the judge ordered the executioners to begin. The many other spectators, including several girls not much older than the criminal being punished, were relegated to the seats in front of the stage, with no expectation of privacy. Admission for members of the public was normally on a first come first served basis, but sixth form trips were given priority, because it was important for students having just attained adulthood to see what awaited them if they neglected their new responsibilities.

Two stocky men advanced to stand, one on either side of their target, wielding the brutal penal rods in bare arms that rippled with muscles. The first stroke alone was enough to raise a welt as thick as Dr. Jones's thumb across the middle of the prisoner's buttocks, a scream of sheer agony filling the entire chamber. Without delay, the other executioner followed up with a stroke in the opposite direction and the delicate blonde writhed over the bar. It only took two more to break her resolve and her right leg kicked back, losing contact between finger and toe.

The chastisement immediately halted and the guards returned to apply cuffs to wrist and ankle. The judge confirmed that the number of strokes was now doubled, to a wail of despair from the intended recipient, then the guards retired and the executioners resumed.

Dr. Jones checked the eighteen year old's ravaged buttocks and battered thighs, eliciting more screams, then stood back.

"In my opinion, the prisoner is fit to receive the next portion of her sentence."

The blonde wailed again and the executioners began the second set of twenty five strokes.

In truth, Dr. Jones didn't believe anyone should have to endure more than fifty blows from those horrific rods, but she wouldn't keep her position if she ended this portion of the sentence early, so she confirmed that the prisoner was fit at the fifty and seventy five stroke marks, despite the increasingly ruined state of her castigated flesh. When the guards returned to unfasten the convict's arms and secure them to the bar over her head for the second stage, she barely reacted, but after one last check with the doctor, the judge ordered the executioners to commence again.

The heavy judicial lash tore viciously at the blonde's back and she howled at the fresh source of agony. Dr. Jones tried to tune out the inhuman sounds of whip and voice and waited to assess the damage after twenty five strokes.

At every break, the girl tried to beg for mercy, saying she couldn't take any more, it would kill her and all the other things Dr. Jones had heard a thousand times before. Outwardly, she ignored it, though it tore her up inside, unlike most of the other court doctors, who greatly enjoyed hearing the misery in their patients' voices and revelled in their power over them. At the hundred lash mark, though, things went differently.

"In my opinion, the prisoner's back is too badly injured to receive any further chastisement today." It was—and pretty much had been for the past forty lashes, but that didn't actually matter.

"Oh, thank-you, thank-you," the girl whimpered and the doctor compressed her lips grimly. This was the part that she found hardest, being thanked by women who didn't understand what her pronouncement would mean for them. She had ****, however. If she didn't do it, they would replace her with somebody who would, and that somebody would probably have a lot less sympathy for their patients than Dr. Jones did.

"Very well," the judge replied, "turn the prisoner so that the front of her body may receive the lash."

As the guards approached to swap wrist and ankle restraints so that she would be hanging upside down, the helpless teen broke down in hysterical sobs of despair, realizing there was no escape for her, after all.

Following the flogging, the prisoner was carried back to the examination room for the doctor to assess. This time, she wasn't restrained, being barely conscious after the whipping to her abdomen, breasts, inner thighs and genitals. The last few lashes had curled over her crotch to strike between her scourged cheeks at her sensitive anus, so even that had not avoided chastisement. Dr. Jones applied antiseptic where necessary, the searing pain briefly stirring the punished teenager, but otherwise saw no need for intervention. Pain relief was, of course, forbidden.

When she was finished, the guards carried their charge away to the display area where she would spend the next few hours in an **** strappado along with all the other women beaten today, being viewed by members of the public. The guards also took the crate containing her possessions, as she wouldn't be coming back to the examination room after her display period was over. Where she would go, the doctor didn't know. Whether sent to prison or released and allowed to return home, her part in the course of justice was over—unless the convict had been sentenced to multiple floggings, in which case she would see her again in about a month.