The Punishment Club

by D. A. Maddox

  “I see you have recovered somewhat,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia said. “That is well. We have some necessary unpleasant business ahead of us still.” She turned her attention to Veronica as, behind her, the door opened. Officer Davies came in, bearing a wooden-backed chair in either hand. “Ms. Cruz?”

  “Right away, boss!” she chirped, darting through the same door.

  Officer Davies set the chairs with their backs facing the rear wall. Only then did Buddy realize that Officer Kersey must have left, then returned, because she had a large video cam under one arm and a tripod under the other. A smaller camera dangled about her neck.

  Officer Alejandro—as Buddy secretly thought of him, if only to distinguish him definitively from his wife—coughed gently into his hand. “Ladies first,” he said, indicating the chairs. Cassidy and Emma Jo went straight to them. At another gesture, they sat. Cassidy gripped the sides, her face again registering fear.

  Calm down, Buddy thought. You’re not the one who’s going to get it.

  Officer Thompson was nowhere to be seen.

  Nurse Reyes-Garcia went to each table, gathering the discarded hats. “We will have these on you again in a moment,” she said, studying the ladies as Officer Alejandro went to each in turn with a steel comb, going through their hair with a searching eye. “Our uniforms, and those hats, serve as a reminder to you, and to our audience, of our respective roles in settling the debt you owe society. You four present a particular and unique challenge to us.”

  Veronica returned, hauling in with her two more chairs which were identical to the others. She set them down. Nurse Reyes-Garcia pointed to them. “Thank you, Ms. Cruz. Gentlemen?”

  The boys sat. There they were, the four of them again in line.

  “Simply put, we have never had so many characters in need of building at one time before. Accordingly, adjustments have been made.” Here, she joined Officer Alejandro by doing the boys’ hair, beginning with Buddy’s. He had enough of it—almost as much as Emma Jo, whose hair was shorter than Cassidy’s—that she had to lift it at the back to pass the comb all the way through it. Her touch was gentle but thorough. She patted the back of his neck when she was finished, moving on to Peter.

  “What we are used to,” she continued, as Officer Kersey mounted the larger camera in front of them, “is having the initial search, hygiene inspection, cover shoot, and any necessary corrections handled in this very room. For convenience, you understand. That is not to be the case today. Lower the back wall, Veronica.”

  Veronica skipped out of sight, hair bouncing over her shoulders. Buddy heard buttons clicking. Then, a mechanical release hiss—and a humming. The wall behind them coming down, retracting into the floor. Buddy didn’t think he much wanted to know what was behind it.

  “Since we handle so many of our initial processing duties in this room, the adjacent chamber is for storage. But tonight it serves another purpose. Alejandro?”

  “My dear, Helena, but you know without asking. Ladies first.”

  Buddy watched as Cassidy and Emma Jo shared a look. Together, they started to rise.

  “Poor things,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia said, shaking her head. “You misunderstand. In this case, Officer Garcia was referring to me.” She returned Peter’s hat to him first, then Buddy’s. “Up you get, boys,” she said. “Follow. Quick march.”

  ****

  “That’s a wrap on the interview segment,” Officer Kersey said, already turning the larger camera lens down and unclipping the smaller from around her neck. Then, muttering to herself, “Gonna be four hours plus in editing, though. Damn, this is gonna be some ‘weekend’.”

  Poor you, Emma Jo thought, while behind her, she heard a despairing Buddy whimper, “Oh, shit.”

  Whatever waited for him—and her—back there, he’d just seen it.

  She wanted to turn. She had to know what was coming. She couldn’t bear it—

  “Eyes straight, my curious young shock twat,” Officer Garcia admonished as soon as her head began to take a tentative swivel, his tone as polite as a waiter in tails at a five-star restaurant. “Your turn is coming soon enough.”

  Cassidy lowered her head.

  “Chin up, you. Officer Kersey, let us have some stills of these two while they enjoy their contemplations.”

  Officer Kersey knelt in front of Emma Jo, positioned the camera. “Smile, you dumb cunt.”

  “I recommend you do as you are told,” Officer Garcia said when Emma Jo looked back to him. “Make a happy face for Officer Kersey, or you will face even greater discomfiture than is already on schedule for you.”

  Emma Jo forced the smile, while behind her, Nurse Reyes-Garcia said, “Buddy, come. It is not as bad as all that. But see—your timer is counting down. There you go. Excellent. Good boy.”

  The camera flash. Officer Kersey then went on to Cassidy, who smiled without being told, lips trembling.

  “Okay, enough of that. We’ll get another of each, honest expressions.”

  Gratefully, Emma Jo let the Joker grin subside. It was an actual physical relief.

  Behind her, Nurse Reyes-Garcia asked the young men in her care, “Which of you, would you suppose, is the more shy of the two?”

  ****

  The antechamber was spartan, almost bare, with a wall of closed pullout cabinets and a concrete floor. But there was a table, or desk, since it also had two pullout drawers on either side. On top of it rested a box of plastic gloves, one poking half out the top, a box of baby wipes, a pump bottle of antibacterial soap, a smaller bottle of clear gel, a roll of measuring tape, a full keyring the size of a doorknocker—and several other items, stainless steel or cold plastic, that Peter could not identify. They looked decidedly medical.

  Worse than that, off to the right, a polished wooden gymnast’s horse with leather padding and sturdy metal legs of dull gray. Handcuffs dangled from steel rings at either side of the wood, and at the feet of the dreadful thing, leg irons. Behind it stood Officer Thompson, holding the handle of a red wooden paddle with the words SILENCE is GOLDEN deeply engraved into the business end.

  Her features remained soft and understanding, but her smile was gone. Probably miles away.

  “I asked you boys a question,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia patiently said. “I wish to hear you declare who is the shy one. We all know the answer, yes? Somebody, be an admirable young spunk punk and tell me.”

  Well, Peter thought, it is kind of obvious. Damn. Time for me to step up, I guess.

  He pointed. “That’s all Buddy,” he said, knowing that he was pretty much volunteering for the first strip search by opening his mouth.

  Buddy, already shaking again, probably crying again, raised his own hand in agreement.

  And so Peter, just to seal the deal, added, “Guess I’ll go, Matron.” At least Cassidy and Emma Jo were facing the other way.

  “Very noble of you,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia said when he took a hesitant step closer to her. “And quite possibly true. I think we shall find you are right. Remain where you are, Peter. Officer Kersey? Stills for the cover shoot.”

  “Coming, boss.”

  “Buddy,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia said, “step up to the table, please. Do not dawdle.”

  Buddy shuffled forward, his head lowered.

  “Look me in the eye, Buddy. I will not bite you.”

  From behind, Peter watched helplessly as Buddy raised his head, his back muscles heaving breath into his lungs.

  Nurse Reyes-Garcia checked her palm com. Then she held out her other hand. “Buddy, wait. Slow your breathing. Calm, calm. There you go. You will be fine. This is a necessary part of your processing. There will be no live video during this part, only gifs and stills. You will be more ready for tomorrow after this, so take heart. Be brave.”

  He was visibly struggling for calm. His breathing steadily slowed, came back to almost normal.

  “Good, Buddy. Good. I believe we are there.”

  Buddy wiped his face, as though already at peace with his fate.


  “Now remove your clothing, please. All of it except the hat. Strip naked.”

  ****

  Just get it over with fast, he said to himself, hands shaking as he yanked the zipper down the front of his jumpsuit. Don’t think about it.

  But her gaze was right on him, and there were people everywhere in here. His damned cheeks were soaked, his eyesight blurry, his head dizzy with indignity as he let the jumpsuit fall off his shoulders like a damned dress to puddle around his socks. His hands then went to the rough hem of his tank to haul it up. Officer Kersey stepped in front of him, tilting her head to the side, fingering the camera. He went for the socks instead, hoping against all expectation and reason that she would go away.

  Veronica appeared with a box of tissues, mopping his face as he stood straight again, dropping the second sock. She made shushing noises, finishing her mop job at his chin.

  Buddy stalled, sniffling. Waited. Thought of his mother when they’d lived in Billings, back when he’d been in the fourth grade. He’d gotten in some minor trouble for reading under the desk during math class—admittedly more than once—and the teacher had filed a referral with the office for him to be kept after school. Mom had put a stop to that, although Dad had then insisted he do extra chores over the weekend.

  Did they know about this? Buddy thought they must. They’d sure been upset enough about it all week, although they’d mostly expressed it behind closed doors.

  “You are hesitating,” said Nurse Reyes-Garcia as he continued to stand there in only his underwear, in front of women, feeling more profoundly foolish than he ever would have thought possible. “Your timer has started again, Buddy. I am not sure I understand your reluctance, given the nature of your criminal offense.”

  He looked over his shoulder. He had twenty seconds. Cassidy and Emma Jo were still facing the other way.

  “I didn’t want to do it then, either, Matron. I … had to.”

  “I am sorry, Buddy, but that judgment was for the courts. And you have to now as well. Quick and be done with it.”

  Buddy let out his breath. Quickly, as told, he drew the tank over his head and, with it still in hand, drew his briefs down to join his jumpsuit about the ankles. But he stayed bent over, clutching his crotch with both hands.

  That’s it. I’m naked. Are you happy?

  Veronica sure seemed like it. “Woohoo! Shy boy in the nude alert!” She pointed, cackling.

  Flashes from Kersey’s camera. Buddy forced himself to make words. “Please … no pictures.”

  More flashes.

  Nurse Reyes-Garcia’s tone never changed. “Back straight, Buddy. Eyes open. See how everyone enjoys you.”

  “I’m … embarrassed.”

  More laughter from Veronica.

  “That is all as intended, Buddy. You should be embarrassed. It is an embarrassing situation you are in. Perfectly normal that you should feel this way. Now, do as I have told you, please.”

  Buddy straightened, hands crossed over his front.

  “Shame shot,” Officer Kersey said wearily, taking a knee in front of him, clicking away. Then, “Hold that. Five count.” She held up her hand, counting down seconds with her fingers.

  Nurse Reyes-Garcia checked her palm com, nodded to herself.

  “That’s that done, Two-oh-Three,” Kersey then said. “Uncover. Need one for the title board in all your glory, such as it is.”

  Using only his eyes, Buddy pleaded with Nurse Reyes-Garcia. He wasn’t sure why, but if he expected help to come from anywhere, he thought it might come from her.

  Veronica patted his hands with hers. “Show me what ya got under there, convict,” she said, her lips less than an inch from his ear again, her cool breath tickling the hairs on the inside.

  No help from the nurse. No help from anyone. It wasn’t coming.

  He uncovered. His penis hung over his testicles, which somehow felt both swollen and retracted, tight with exposure.

  Veronica extended her pointing finger, wagging it back and forth in front of his face like a metronome. “It’s not glad to see me.” She pouted. “Let’s see if I can make little sad doggy sit up straight and beg.”

  She needn’t have bothered. At those words, it stood straight up.

  “Ms. Cruz, if you please,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia said, approaching, unspooling a length from the tape measure. “See what you have done. I need a measurement at rest, and you have raised this young man’s hip flag like it is the Fourth of July.”

  Buddy could not help but think the nurse did not sound truly angry. So far, she never did. Instead, this felt all like part of the ongoing script in his shaming. If it was, he couldn’t have written a more effective one himself. His mouth and hands kept opening and closing on their own, no direction from his brain whatsoever. This was his worst nightmare (his hottest dream) fully realized.

  “Chair,” she called. Officer Davies—God, was he still here, too?—brought it.

  His cock drooped a fraction of an inch.

  “No, Buddy,” she said, sitting before him. “We shall start with the full boner, since you are most of the way there.”

  “Can I tickle it, then?” Veronica asked.

  Do I have a say in this? Buddy wondered, but not really.

  “Briefly.”

  There, with the nurse seated directly in front of his bobbing cock, Veronica boldly reached out—again with pointer finger extended, but also her thumb—and touched him, fingertip to cockhead, thumb under the shaft, running its length.

  “Oh … oh, God.”

  Now it was bigger than ever, the tip glistening a dampened sheen.

  “That will do,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia said, leaning in with the tape, and Veronica withdrew.

  ****

  Cassidy, though facing away, had to listen to it all.

  “Five and a half inches at full growth. Do not be so scarlet in the face about it, Buddy. That is a perfectly normal size, well within the average. No unsightly blemishes. Healthy and responsive. A fine penis, all told.”

  She’d tried to cover her ears at the very first command. Why were they doing this to Buddy first?

  “No,” Officer Garcia had quietly scolded her. “Hands folded in your lap, please, or I will cuff them there. Pretend you are at church and this is the main service. Good girl. Yes, tears are fine. You will be given a bottle of cool water when we are done.”

  “Go to Officer Thompson, Buddy. We shall have your discipline over and behind you before hygiene inspection. You see—she is waiting for you. She has been very patient while you have drawn things out. Oh, very well. I shall lead you to her. Come. You will survive.”

  She still didn’t know when Buddy had spoken out of turn. She’d had the stupid VR thing on. She wondered if it had been worth it.

  “Lean forward, Buddy, arms at a stretch across the horse. Good. You’re doing fine.”

  “Matron, please. Please, don’t. Please.”

  Well, there it was. The answer. Not worth it. Not at all.

  “Feet apart, please. Good job, Buddy.”

  From Officer Thompson: “Need a cup, boss. Got some low-hanging fruit here.”

  Cassidy wasn’t sure, exactly, what that meant. She might as well have said, There are hippos in my soup, for all the connections she couldn’t make.

  The quick, mechanical suction sound didn’t clear any of it up, either, but by the strangled yelp from Buddy, she guessed whatever was happening wasn’t nice.

  Officer Thompson: “Go ahead and pull, Buddy.”

  A rattle of chain, a furious—or panicked—yanking sound.

  How could they be doing this? Buddy was a sweet soul. Cassidy didn’t know him well, but she’d gotten that much from text messaging and later at court. This wasn’t fair.

  “Matron, hold on. I’m not ready.”

  “You will be fine. It will only be the paddle for you, three stern swats but no running approach. This is a kindness, Buddy, as I did not think your outburst in the interview room so egregious under
the circumstances. You were concerned for your fellow inmate, your partner in crime and punishment. Yet you did break the rules. Do you deny breaking them?”

  That took Cassidy aback. Who had he been concerned for?

  Me?

  It was the only answer that made sense. She would have been the only one in that awful “interview” reality when Buddy had been brought in, unless Emma Jo had been there, too. And she, Cassidy, had…

  Screamed.

  No. God, not for me. Don’t let him get punished because of me.

  Officer Thompson, unseen but too easily heard: “Lots of guys want to play it tough and hold it in, Buddy. You just let it all go. Better for you if you do. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do you believe me?”

  “Y-yes, ma’am.”

  “Okay, Buddy. Here it comes.”

  ****

  The first indrawn hiss—the subsequent howl—made Emma Jo wonder if Buddy had been switched out for someone else. It didn’t sound like him. It was a low sound, unsurprised, as if the sufferer had a given expectation and this was its perfect realization. There were no words in it, no further pleading. The fear had been swatted out of him in the first blow.

  But for Emma Jo, the fear spread across her flesh like syrup over hotcakes. She felt suddenly cold, exposed already. She hugged herself in her chair, rubbing the backs of her arms, rocking back and forth.

  Five seconds. Ten. Emma Jo counted them. Twelve.

  Swat!

  This time, his response at a slightly higher pitch, Buddy let out his anguish in an inarticulate howl-growl: “Oooooh-errrrr…”

  He was only obeying. Not holding it back. He was trying to be good, not to complain.

  Emma Jo wanted to scream—with words, thank you very much—for him. She put a hand to her mouth to stop herself.

  “In your lap, Miss Swanson,” Officer Garcia warned.

  She did. She pressed her hands tight together. She bit her lip.