Nell in Bridewell - Part 6

Again a brief recap:  Nell learns that her formal "Farewell" will be "moderate" and will be carried out at the same time as the "Welcomes" for a young arsonist and her lover.  At the very end of Nell's last letter, we learn that Nell has been charged with dispensing the Welcomes for the two young people.  This was a "twist" that I never saw coming!

As for how Nell's Farewell compares with that postscript in both Nell in Bridewell and Lenchen in Zuchthause, the huge difference is the formal Farewell.  In all of these, Nell gets a pardon and a release from the House of Correction.  Only in Lenchens Abschied, however, is Nell subjected to that formal Farewell.

Dear Marie,

Below, I will share with you how the chastisements took place.

The Governor took up his position and called up Fritz Sch...  The handsome boy had to step up to the punishment bench and was then ordered to undress before laying over, much to the delight of the female spectators who observed closely the reactions on his handsome face. Fritz, however, did not move, even when the Governor ordered him to immediately take off his jacket and vest under the threat of more severe punishment. 

“Undress him! Now!” the Governor ordered Thekla and me. Thekla went up to the boy and with a skilled hand pulled off his outer garments.  Then, we joined forces to place him on the bench, but Thekla had barely grabbed one of the boy's arms when he gave her a hard push to her chest, which caused her to stagger back for a moment.

Outraged by his resistance, we each seized an arm, and in spite of the fact that he kicked his feet as if possessed, in no time at all we had fastened the straps around his wrists and tightened the straps so that his upper body was secured to the punishment bench. Just as quickly, we put the ankle straps in place and pulled them tight until the pretty boy's feet left the ground and he had no choice, but to be stretch out on the whipping-bench.

The ladies watching us were all laughing. “Such a bad boy should get a rod twice as thick and double the strokes for putting up such a fuss,” said one. “Helen will hit him hard and as for Mamselle Thekla, well she certainly isn't lacking in strength! But look, the pretty Helen is already undressing him for punishment.”

While this was going on, I had unbuttoned his trousers and was pulling them down to his knees. However, this was going quite slowly, because Fritz was writhing and twisting on the bench, shouting over his shoulder: “I won't be whipped! I won't put up with it! Release me!” Of course, his antics only caused merriment among the ladies, while we no intention of unfastening him.

Eventually, I got his pants all the way down. He looked back at me imploringly as I grabbed his shirt and pulled it up so that you could see his back almost to his neck.

I was not moved at all by his sorrowful gaze. I was furious, my dear Marie! Furious indeed! I just longed to whip his backside - to punish him as harshly as possible! And what a target his body was for the rod! His backside was pleasingly round-shaped, resplendent in beautiful fullness and delicate skin, through which the red blood flowed transparently near the surface. Especially the area, on which the birch branches are destined to dance, showed high, magnificent curves.

Now, I had some time to inspect the hind end handed over to us for roasting; for it was only once the boy calmed down and was lying there quietly that the Governor began to read out his sentence. While waiting, I was also able to observe the faces of our female spectators. None of them showed any signs of compassion, but the faces of the young girls in particular, who were not yet able to control their facial expressions, showed high levels of desire and excitement. With wide-open, moist, shimmering eyes, open mouths, cheeks flushed, they stared at the magnificent body of the young boy, whose face and looks in another place would have captured their hearts in the blink of an eye. Even Lottie, who was sitting on the inmate bench (this bench is designated for the inmates awaiting their punishment), could not resist and cast multiple glances from under her eyelids at her former lover.

As the sentence was read out, the boy again began twisting and turning, which now was more from fear than defiance.

When the Governor had finished, Thekla, having already grabbed a rod, began to prepare the boy for punishment - tightening the straps here, smoothing out the shirt there or pulling his trousers further down.  I couldn't resist running my hand over the boy's warm, blooming flesh and gently slapping and patting him. Oh, what a wonderful feeling that was! I was trembling with excitement.

Even though I took notice of the boy's anxious, terrified looks, they had little to no impact on me. I had literally fallen into a state of ecstasy, as a result of the caresses I experienced from the PC's widow and did not regain control of myself until I had to offer myself on the bench to the rod.

It was at this point that the chastisement began.

Thekla raised the rod high and brought it down with all her might.  Blood left the punished areas momentarily, but returned immediately, clearly marking the chastised area on the white flesh. Fritz gritted his teeth and only twitched imperceptibly. I rolled the sleeve on my dress up to my shoulder so that with my arm bare I could swing harder.  For the first time in my life, I raised up on my tiptoes and swung the rod with such vehemence that the handsome young inmate involuntarily bucked while strapped to the bench and groaned softly. Where the rod landed, the flesh immediately turned red, and welts formed.

“That beautiful backside will soon be bright red!” said the ladies.

“Just hit it really hard, as the naughty boy deserves it. And not so fast, so that each stroke is truly felt!”

“How lovely it looks when such a beautiful girl wields the rod with her round, full, snow-white arm! I should think being whipped like a child and by such a beauty, our young man might find it quite pleasurable!”

“Oh, I doubt that!” said the PC's widow. “Of course, there are men who like to be beaten by women, but is there really any pleasure in it when the blood comes, and the skin is split open? I think NOT! But you see, ladies, the spanking dance is already beginning with the sweet boy. Helen is thrashing those juddering hind-cheeks with a passion! Just look at how her eyes shine and how her rosy cheeks glow!”

In the meantime, we had administered four more strokes on the handsome, young arsonist.  His limbs twitched faster, involuntarily, but the boy let out only a low whimper. Thekla shouted to me with a laugh: “After ten strokes, his defiance will be broken. Then we'll hear him scream!”

I whipped him again. Oh, what a pleasure it was for me! Now I had only one wish: that I could have been a task-mistress and thrashed every day, anyone who deserved punishment: grown men and young boys, attractive women, pretty virgins and pert schoolgirls. Oh, believe me, Marie, I would have been a stern task-mistress. The devil of lust, the lust for whipping, had possessed me.  I ignored everything: the ridicule of the ladies, the threat of my own shameful chastisement, visions of my beloved Isidor and my own future. I only wanted to whip, chastise, and punish! Believe me, I could have watched the cruelest of tortures inflicted on my fellow inmates without feeling any compassion!

Once we had administered five strokes each, as Thekla accurately predicted, the young boy's defiance was broken. He cried out loudly and pleaded for mercy.  Thekla, who was feeling warm from her exertions, began stripping off her outer dress and only in her short petticoats did she resumed chastising. Meanwhile, I struck again, and the boy's tender skin split in several places where a few droplets of blood appeared.

“Finally, our little Fritz is crying due to his sore bottom,” shouted a young thing of barely 16-years-old, who perhaps deserved the rod just as much as our young arsonist.

“Well, a few droplets are nothing.  Just watch carefully, for when he feels 20-30 strokes on his behind, then the blood will really flow!”

“No, Fritz is too beautiful for this. He should be kissed,” exclaimed a third, a voluptuous, cheeky young madam, enthusiastically.

“Well, he's already being kissed red-hot by the rod! Now we should put his lover on a second punishment bench and whip her at the same time. Then, they could comfort each other!”

“YES for sure; that would certainly make for a fine duet!”

“Absolutely,” said a pretty young widow, who was sitting next to the PC's widow and gave the impression of an easily aroused, rather amorous woman, “such a scene would be fantastic! Don't you think, madam, that such a punishment scene would linger in our minds for a very long time?”

“Certainly, my dear, to such a scene we would owe many pleasant interludes.  Just think of the sight; the simultaneous jerking up and down of the two young inmates, their crying, begging and struggling, who wouldn't find that amusing? But, my dear, just look there!” She pointed to the whipping-bench. Fritz screamed louder and louder under our rods and blood began to ooze out of a number of thick welts. Thekla had just whipped a white, untouched part a of his round buttocks and turned it blood red.

I let loose with a terriffic stroke and then left the rod in place on his bottom. Then I pressed down with all my might and sawed the knotty, tightly bound strands back and forth a few times so that the flesh was rubbed raw in several places and specks of blood began to form.

The handsome, young inmate, who by now had given up any thoughts of resistance and defiance, squirmed like a worm, begging and pleading, but of course to no avail. His beautiful round thighs jiggled and twitched upwards. As soon as the young body shot up convulsively, and often remained trembling in position for a few seconds, we whippers took the rods and struck, but not full across the cheeks.  Instead, we whipped into the crease that separates bottom from thighs and really brought the rods down hard. The increased screaming that followed each of these strokes proved how effectively our rods had struck. In a flash, his body sprang slammed down onto the whipping-bench, as if it wanted to merge with it.

The female spectators obviously enjoyed this game. “Oh, how agonizing it must be to be thrashed so soundly with such heavy rods,” cried a young girl. “How it must hurt the poor, pretty boy for just listen to how he begs!”

“Oh, who cares? He deserves harder strokes, and placed here they would do the most good!”

“Yes, the two women, carrying out the whipping, really know how to swing those rods! Who would have thought that the very beautiful Helen could have such skill with the rod! Cunigund, if she were still a task-mistress, would be delighted with her!”

Now blood bounced in little droplets with each new stroke. Fritz's screaming became weaker and gradually turned into quiet wailing. The sweet, little boy had been given a good whipping for everywhere there were stripes, weals and thick welts. The Surgeon called a halt!

We loosened the straps that left deep gashes on his wrists and ankles. Trembling, the poor boy stood up, but he could barely stand. We began dressing him, and when his clothes were in order, the Governor asked that young widow, who was sufficiently familiar with layout of the institution, to take him to the infirmary - a request to which she was apparently only too happy to comply. With no fight left, he followed her instinctively.

More to follow.  One down and two to go.  Next is the young arsonist, Lottie....