Chapter 2

Some of the older women in our group had banded together to present a list of our demands because they were dissatisfied with our treatment in the processing center. I personally was not upset because I could see hygienic reasons for their employment. I think the loss of hair both on the top of their head and down low where the sun didn't shine was a bit more than they could handle but it was necessary to prevent the spread of disease and little critters.

The only thing that bothered me was the way they had separated the men from the women and the fact that I suspected we would never see our jewelry again. I wanted desperately to be back with my father and with Bruce my stepbrother because he was my life and I could not imagine any future without him at my side.

We were transferred to a large hall with many small offices on the sides and each of us was subjected to lengthy debriefings to prepare us for release to the general population. I received the distinct impression that they were being cautious in this area because of problems that had cropped up with previously resettled arrivals and they wanted to address that problem before it spread any further.

The group of females that had submitted the demands were brought out on the stage and presented to us as, "The Gang of Six". I did my best to hide my amusement because the mature women with a non-threatening demeanor certainly did not look like any "gang" that I could imagine and they were just using one of the tools that females had fallen into on our world where men had become so powerful that women's issues were no longer a subject of serious debate.

The senior group leader read a short order issued by the local commander and announced that the six females were to be disciplined for insubordination during a military operation. I thought the thing to be a joke until I saw twelve burly male guards march out on the platform and grasp the six women under their armpits and stretch them over the horizontal pole that ran the length of the platform. It occurred to me that this pole was there for just this form of exercise and that many new transferees were stretched across it for their "softening up" rituals. The commander took great pleasure in moving behind each embarrassed female and pulling down her new uniform bottoms exposing her rear end to the view of the entire audience. I knew that most of the girls in the hall were happy that it was not them on the stage and I was included in that group.

I looked up at the stage and saw the six older women were angry and dismayed at their public humiliation.

Then, I saw the long thin canes that the six punisher guards carried up to the stage and I knew right away that the "25 strokes" was no joke but serious business. I could feel my own buttocks cringe at the thought of being kissed obscenely by the thin dangerous wands. Apparently, the women would be whipped in unison with the commandant calling out the strokes load and clear for all the women in the hall to hear and take note.

The poor females on the stage were so shocked with their sudden disgrace that there were no sounds coming from their lips for the first few biting strokes. Then, the chorus of sobs and wails broke out and the hall was filled with their heart-rending despair right through to the very last stroke. Some of the females were bleeding where the cane had broken the skin and in some cases the backsides were splotchy and mottled from the bruising of the cane. It was not a pretty sight and I felt a sense of shame that I was unable to help them in their ordeal.

Six young women in yellow uniforms ran up and covered their buttocks with a soothing cream before bringing their uniform bottoms back up to cover their shame.

After that there was very little griping and no complaints and certainly no petitions for the persons in charge.

During my debriefing in the interview room, I verbally confirmed the fact that I was in "Virgin" status and my identity card was marked with a red "V" in the upper left corner. The interviewer told me that I was probably the oldest "V" category transferee that he had ever processed and asked me pointblank if I was opposed to male insemination. I almost laughed at the question but didn't because I sensed it would be inappropriate and there was always a possibility that the interview was being recorded.

"No, sir, I just haven't met a man that I liked enough to allow him to pull my pants down and do it to me. I have a few prospects that I am interested in but they are either already spoken for or have little or no interest in me because of my inexperience."

I thought the bulge in his trousers got a little larger but the entire thing must have been on video because he did his best to hide that fact and didn't mention my status again for the remainder of the interview.

A stone-faced guard with the insignia of an officer pulled me from the herd and took me to the supply point to draw my "gear". I was tempted to ask some questions but the recent memory of the six women humiliated on the stage was enough to keep my lips shut tight.

"You have been assigned separate quarters with the remainder of your family. Remember, it is only because of your "V" status and that assignment many be withdrawn if your status changes without you promptly advising your mentor of your change in status. If you keep us informed, we will most likely leave you where you are without interference. Do not make friends with any of the native worlders unless we have cleared it with your mentor.