When Penelope awoke, she found she was lying on a cot in what was possibly the same room. The table and one of the chairs were missing, but it was the same whitewashed, unadorned walls, with the same small window and the same stifling heat. Mr…. Mr…. very well, then, “Buddy” was sitting in one of the chairs, watching her as she regained consciousness.

The man in question smiled. “Ah, Miss… I hope you are feeling a bit recovered, because there are still several remaining items that require attention. I am certain that news of your father’s death was a great shock to you… and I might hope that being informed of the damage you caused to men who were in no way guilty of anything was somewhat shocking as well. Be that as it may, there are some legal issues in this case that absolutely must be addressed.

“First of all, you said that your father was carrying… I think you said ten thousand Pounds Sterling. I know that has already been distributed to the families of the men he killed, but did you have access to other funds? Were you, yourself carrying any money, or did he or his mission have funds deposited in a bank somewhere?”

“No, but why is that crucial?”

“Well you see, the funds that he had was sufficient to pay the recompense to the families of his victims — “blood money” I suppose you would say. However, you have restitution of your own that needs to be addressed. The man whose eye you permanently damaged was a tailor. As such, he does not need both eyes, since his work does not require a lot of depth perception.”

“Excuse me,” Penelope interrupted, “but I don’t recognize that term.”

“Depth perception? It merely refers to the ability to see things as objects having length, breadth and depth… as solid objects. It’s like the difference between viewing a simple photograph and viewing a slide in a stereoptican. For the latter, one needs two eyes to view it at the same time.”

“Oh, yes… I find out now. I beg your pardon for the interruption.”

“Yes. Well, as I say he will not lose much income for having a single eye, but there is the matter of the pain and disfigurement. I have talked with him at great length, and he would have been satisfied with a payment of 25,000 rupees. But as you have not the money, I’m afraid another means must be found.”

“Another means? Please explain.”

“Miss Smythe-Worthington, I’m afraid our legal system here has only a passing resemblance to British jurisprudence. The dictum ‘an eye for an eye’ is well-recognized here, but we allow for a great deal of leeway in the application. You will not actually be forced to give up an eye, but the tailor demands that you suffer a reasonable approximation of the pain and discomfiture he felt. The two of us have negotiated, and we have reached what I — as presiding authority — feel is a just sentence. It will not be to your liking, I am certain, but as you have no money to offer as an alternative, I see no other recourse.”

“An alternative to what?”

“Let me preface this by saying that it is thoroughly ingrained in our culture that, as one of your statesmen said ‘justice must not only be done, but must be SEEN to be done.’ To that end, in two days’ time, at noon, you will be taken to the town square where you will be publicly spanked.”

“Is that all? I feared it might be something much worse, from what you were saying.”

“I don’t believe you yet fully comprehend the sentence. You will be made to put on a shift, rather than your current attire; you will then be taken up onto a raised platform, so that everyone might see the sentence carried out; so as to prove that you are not concealing any kind of padding under the shift, the shift itself will be cut from the hem to your waistline; then….”

“WHAT!?! I’m to be paraded naked in front of the whole town?!”

“Not entirely, no. Your buttocks will be on display, certainly, but not the rest of your person, so long as you maintain a… certain posture. You will be placed in front of a high bench, with your ankles manacled to the floor; and then you will be spanked with a hempen belt for the better part of an hour. This is not meant to be a school-girl’s punishment for a minor infraction. This will be retribution for the pain and suffering you caused to the tailor.”

“This is inhuman. This is OUTRAGEOUS! This will be…”

“This sentence has already been approved by both our local rajah, and by the Chief Magistrate in Calcutta. I, myself will administer the spanking, much as it distresses me. If it of any consolation to you, I do know of a mental technique that may help you to suffer through it. You will not be permanently harmed, but it will be very painful.”

“And what must I do to learn this ‘mental technique?,” Penelope asked angrily? “Grovel at your feet? Perform obscene actions to your satisfaction?”

“You need merely ask, at any time before the spanking is concluded.”

“And if this is what I must suffer for the lost of a man’s eye, what must I do to atone for the harm I did to the other man?”

“I am still in talks with the man and his wife. We will discuss it after the spanking. I bid you good-day, Miss Smythe-Worthington.”

“Good-day? GOOD-DAY!?! Good-day to you, you…. you… you insufferable MAN!!!” But she was already talking to a closed door.

The next day was somewhat cooler, but only by comparison. Penelope failed to appreciate it, spending the day in slowly mounting anxiety. The following day — the day of her public humiliation — arrived, and with it her judge and tormentor, “Buddy.”

“Good morning, Miss Smythe-Worthington. I hope you slept well. You have 3 hours to prepare for your ordeal. As I mentioned before, I have a suggestion that may provide you with some measure of relief, though it is up to you whether or not to use it and it may, in fact, not work for you.”

“I shall NOT give you the satisfaction, you jumped-up savage! You may keep your ‘mental technique’ to yourself and be damned.”

“As you wish, Miss. Please note that I will not stop or lessen your sentence once it is being carried out, regardless of your cries or pleas. However, if you wish to avail yourself of the information I offer, you may say ‘refuge’ during the proceedings (so as to hide the intent from our non-English-speaking population), and I will pause only long enough to impart that information to you. Do you find out?”

“I will not utter the word ‘refuge’ no matter what you do! Now go away!”

“I will see you in 3 hours, Miss.”

At the appointed time, “Buddy” appeared with a young woman in tow, who carried a muslin shift. “Buddy” ordered Penelope to remove all her garments and replace them with the shift, while his servant (for such the woman appeared to be) watched to be certain she concealed nothing underneath. The man then left to room for about 2 minutes time, to return with a hempen rope with which to bind her arms behind her back. After this procedure, she was led to the center of the town, there to mount a platform some 3 feet off the ground. She was placed in front of a bench that was about the height of her upper thighs, her arms were unbound, and her ankles were held in place (with hemp rope, instead of the metal manacles she had expected) with a thick wooden bar placed such that she would have to lean forward slightly to grasp it.

“Buddy” spoke for a moment or two to the crowd that had gathered, then turned and addressed his prisoner. “I was explaining your for being punished and the sentence that is about to be carried out. I would suggest that you hold onto the bar ahead of you, for it would be extremely painful for you to fall backward on the platform, and even more embarrassing for you if you fell forward onto the bench as that would almost certainly expose more of your anatomy. Now, unless you have changed your mind about receiving my instruction, we will proceed.”

With Penelope remaining stubbornly silent, the administrator took a step back, used a knife to slit the shift from her feet to her waist, and brought out a thick strap. The strap was composed of woven hemp, about 2-1/2 or 3 inches wide by about 3 feet long, with several layers of the fabric sewn together until the whole was about 3/4 inches thick. A handle had been attached, and this “Buddy” grasped and raised to about the height of his waist. And then…

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Penelope gasped as the first blow landed. No single impact was more hurtful than most of her headmistresses had inflicted during her school years, but by the tenth blow Penelope was crying out at each new insult to her poor bottom. By the 30th, her cries had turned to screams and she cried out, “Stop! Oh PLEASE, STOP!!” But as “Buddy” had explained previously, the blows continued unabated. By the 50th blow, Penelope found her legs were shaking uncontrollably, her screams were nearly continuous, and her mind seemed on the edge of collapse.

At last she screamed out, “REF.. RE…REFUGE!”

“Buddy” immediately stopped and approached her near enough to talk to her in a quite voice. “Do you now wish to learn the technique of which I spoke?”

“YES… YES, PLEASE!” she said, as she broke down into loud sobbing.

“I can’t make it any less painful for you, but if you can redirect the pain.. re-interpret it, you might say… you may be able to make it more endurable. If you will focus your attention on your…. your… I’m sorry, I never had reason to learn the English word I’m looking for. Here, it is referred to as the ‘yoni’… the… the center of your femininity, located a few inches lower than your navel.”

“You mean… my sex?”

“If that is what you term it, yes. If you will focus your attention there, rather than on your buttocks, and feel what each impact does to the feelings you receive there, some women — not all, but some — discover that the pain, while still painful, may be perceived as somewhat pleasurable. I can’t guarantee that this will work for you, but this much I can offer as a possibility. Now, I must return to my duty.”

Whereupon, her torturer continued to apply the thrice-damned strap to her delicate nether region. She attempted to follow his instructions, and was not at first successful. Her seat, already feeling like it was on fire, increase in discomfort until it seemed it was the recipient of the attention of hell’s own demons. But as her mind grew foggy from the repeated blows and as she continued to re-focus what attention she retained, she noticed a pleasant warmth creeping up from between her legs, radiating from thence to encompass her belly, then her breasts, and then toward the end of her punishment, her whole mind, and she gave herself over to ecstasy. Soon she was screaming not in pain, but in uninhibited joy!

At last, the beating stopped. “Buddy” had his servant girl support Penelope’s weight while “Buddy” himself untied her feet, then the two of them helped the English girl to return to the place of her confinement, place her (face down) upon the cot, and left her alone. And then Penelope knew no more, for several hours.