Pillory Park
by Richard Lovel – Copyright 2025 – All rights reserved
Chapter 4 – Third Offender
Lucy emerged from the Comfort Station with a slight spring in her step, her cheeks flushed and hair slightly disheveled despite her attempts to smooth it back into place. The release had been swift and intense—her body responding to the built-up tension with an almost violent efficiency that left her gasping against the vibrating chair, biting her lip to keep from crying out.
“Feel better, honey? Got all that tension worked out of your system?” Gladys asked with a knowing smile.
“Much better. I’m ready for the next one. What’s on the schedule?”
Gladys’s expression shifted subtly, to something more serious. “This next case is… different. He’s a baddie. Attempted sexual assault. He’s down for genital termination. He’s not coming back from this, Lucy.”
“You mean … castration?” Lucy whispered, her voice catching in her throat at the word. You mean we’re going to… castrate him?” The syllables felt strange on her tongue, forbidden yet thrilling.
Gladys placed a gentle hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “Listen, sugar, I need to be straight with you. This isn’t like the ruined orgasms or the spankings. You don’t have to assist. it’s intense … primal … Some trainees can’t handle it. Others take to it … more than they should. Some discover things about themselves they never knew were there …it’s hard to know how a girl will respond.”
Lucy’s stomach fluttered with a complex cocktail of emotions—horror mingled with professional curiosity, fear, and an unexpected, guilty arousal. “I … I’ll assist.” she almost whispered.
A matte black prison ambulance labeled “Serious Male Crimes Unit” arrived at Pillory Plaza. A commanding presence, a tall and athletic woman in pressed charcoal uniform, emerged first. “That’s Lieutenant Steele,” Gladys whispered to Lucy. “Twenty years in violent male crimes.”
Four female guards followed, escorting a shackled man who towered over them six feet-four. a muscular mass exuding physical intimidation. His neck strained against the chain collar, thick forearms tested the cuffs. His face wore an expression of practiced contempt, a sneer that suggested he viewed the proceedings as beneath him.
“Jake Rammit,” Gladys murmured, recognizing the notorious figure from department bulletins. “Big Jake: Former leader in the manosphere movement. Attempted sexual assault. Manifesto on his blog bragging he would ‘put women back in their place.'”
A petite Asian woman in a pristine white medical uniform followed the procession. Helen Chen, RCN, carrying her surgical case. Her dark hair was neatly coiled under a cap, thin-rimmed glasses rested on her nose, and a golden caduceus pin on her collar.
Lieutenant Steele walked over and greeted Gladys. They shared some small talk, and Gladys introduced Lucy, who asked with just a hint eagerness, “Lieutenant, may I ask—how will the subject be terminated?”
Lieutenant Steele’s expression remained impassive, and explained. “Castration is conditional in this case, Trainee. Per protocol, the subject will undergo testicle spanking followed by sixty minutes of continuous masturbation. Should ejaculation occur during the masturbation phase, the Neutering Nurse will perform manditory surgical castration.”
“The Neutering Nurse.” Lucy whispered to herself, her voice containing equal parts awe and fascination.
Lieutenant Steele’s head flicked toward the front row of observers. “If he holds out (which never happens), the victim there retains final decision.” Lucy followed the gaze to a young woman seated alone in the reserved section. She sat perfectly still, her expression unreadable, hands folded in her lap. The other spectators had made space around her, instinctively recognizing the gravity of her presence.
“The victim requested observation rights?” Gladys asked quietly.
Lieutenant Steele nodded. “She needs closure.”
Big Jake had been maintaining his facade of bored contempt throughout the conversation, occasionally flexing against his restraints—a silent, primal reminder of his physical prowess. He shot Lucy a challenging glance and a lascivious smile, his eyes glinting with arrogant male aggression. There was something undeniably magnetic about Big Jake’s raw untamed masculinity. He was the quintessential alpha male, and she found herself unwillingly drawn to his charged energy. In spite of herself his bold stare stirred a response within her loins.
But at Lieutenant Steele’s explanation of the protocol, his expression shifted—a momentary crack in his composure as his eyes widened and darted toward Nurse Chen’s medical case. “You can’t be serious,” he growled, his voice deeper than expected, rough with disuse or perhaps perpetual anger. “This is barbaric. You females have lost your minds with power.”
Nurse Chen smiled cooly. “Let me assure you that you will be perfectly safe in my hands, Mr. Rammit. I’m an RCN — Registered Castration Nurse. I’ve performed four hundred and seventy-two orchiectomies, The procedure is almost painless. You will feel only a slight discomfort when the glands are removed.” The blood drained from his face, leaving his tan complexion ashen. For the first time, real fear flickered across his features.
Gladys ordered him to be secured in the pillory. “You can’t do this,” he objected, struggling against the guards’ grip. “I have rights. Don’t touch me, You bitches think you can—”
His words cut off abruptly as one guard activated his control collar, sending a brief shock. His body stiffened, muscles contracting involuntarily before relaxing into temporary compliance, and tey quickly stripped and secured him to the central pillory. In the audience, a quiet excitement replaced the earlier festive atmosphere. Some women in the crowd started to leave, not wanting to see the unsettling process. Others moved down closer to get a better view of the proceedings.
Big Jake, now fully secured and displayed, twisted his head to the side as far as the restraints would allow, seeking eye contact with the silent woman in the front row. He called to her, his voice strained by the awkward position. “This isn’t justice! You know that, don’t you? All I did was try to fuck you a little. This is mutilation.”
The woman met his gaze without expression, then deliberately turned her eyes to Nurse Chen’s medical case, which now lay open on a nearby table. Inside stainless steel instruments gleamed with cold purpose. Big Jake fell silent, the reality of his situation finally, fully registering in his eyes.
The audience leaned forward eagerly. Gladys calmly approached Jake, wearing a pair of supple leather gloves. The pillory displayed his total vulnerability: legs spread wide, his masculinity exposed and ready for ridicule or removal.
Gladys explained,”Now, Lucy, testicle spanking serves two purposes. First off, it firmly establishes our dominance—shows him that woman can control him by his boy bits. And secondly, it gets the blood pumping down there, priming him for the masturbation test later.”
“Do we worry about injury? Is there a specific technique?”
“In a typical testicle spanking we would aim at the scrotal sac, and steer clear of the testicles themselves. But for Jake here, well we don’t need to worry so much about messin’ with his bad boys. He won’t have ‘em for long. So I’m give’n Jake the full monty. Why don’t you and Jake get to know each other while I crack a few nuts?”
Lucy approached and joked. “Heyyy, Jake! I totally saw you giving me the eye earlier! You don’t mind if I take a good look at you now, right? Soooo, how’s it feel being on display like this? Like, is it awkward or what?” she winked playfully, her youthful energy contrasting sharply with the gravity of his situation.
“Shut up, cunt” he retorted, aware of how his words fell flat under the reality: his manhood now nothing more than entertainment for women who once would have been awed by it.
Gladys grasped Jake’s genitals and asked, “Ready, Jake? Let’s start with five strikes, each one harder than the last, and then you can tell me how it’s workin’ for ya.”
The initial slap was almost gentle—her gloved hand tapped the underside of his scrotum, causing a slight swing. Jake’s reaction was surprise not pain. The second hit was stronger, the sound of leather meeting skin echoing softly in the quiet plaza. This time, Jake responded with a more noticeable grunt, his thigh muscles tensing reflexively. By the third strike, a thin layer of sweat had formed on his forehead. The fourth one drew a clear sound of discomfort—a mix between a groan and a stifled shout. The fifth, aimed precisely at the center of his scrotal sac, made his entire body jerk against the restraints.
“Could ya feel it OK? Or do I need to amp it up?” His eyes had widened, pupils dilated with pain and fear, but he remained stubbornly silent, jaw clenched tight enough to make the muscles in his neck stand out like cords.
“Strong silent type? Well, I’ll take that as a yes,” Gladys chuckled, her voice carrying across the suddenly hushed plaza. She delivered a sixth strike with significantly more force, her wrist snapping forward with practiced precision. The sound was different this time—a wet, meaty thwack that made several women in the audience “ooooh” and wince sympathetically despite themselves.
Jake’s composure finally shattered. A hoarse cry escaped his lips, his body convulsing against the restraints. The muscles in his thighs quivered uncontrollably, and his breathing came in ragged gasps.
“There we go,” Gladys nodded with satisfaction. “That’s what we’re looking for, show some enthusiasm.”
Lucy watched, transfixed, as Jake’s face contorted with each subsequent blow. The arrogant sneer that had defined his features moments before dissolved into something raw and vulnerable. His jaw clenched with each impact, muscles in his neck straining as he fought to maintain some semblance of dignity.
As she watched, an intimate warmth grew between Lucy’s thighs. Each sharp slap against his vulnerable testicles sent a corresponding pulse through her body. “Oh!” she gasped involuntarily, as Gladys delivered another precise strike. The flush creeping up her neck betrayed her. Her nipples had hardened to sensitive points beneath her technician tunic, and she crossed her arms instinctively to hide the evidence of her arousal.
Jake’s eyes met hers, pain and humiliation evident in his expression, but something else flickered there too—a recognition of her reaction. Despite his predicament, a ghost of his earlier arrogance resurfaced in a vicious curl of his lips. “You getting off… on this… bitch?” he managed between labored breaths. His words only intensified the throbbing between her legs.
Gladys also noted, and offered. “Lucy, would you like to do the next sequence?”
Lucy stepped forward, sweetly apologizing to Jake. “I’ve only practiced on the training models. I hope you don’t mind being my first.” Lucy positioned herself behind Jake, her smaller hand finding its way beneath him. Her first strike was tentative, barely eliciting a response. Her second, overcompensating, landed with too much force, causing Jake to emit a strangled yelp. She winced in sympathy despite herself. “Sorry.”
Lucy’s third attempt found the proper balance—firm enough to create impact but controlled enough to avoid potential damage. Jake’s reaction confirmed her accuracy: a full-body shudder followed by rapid, shallow breathing.
Lucy asked brightly, “How’s that, Jake? Nice and achey? I could do this all day, how about you?”
“Well done,” Gladys approved, retrieving something from the equipment table. “But that’s enough playing around. Now we’ll get down to business.”
She held up what resembled a miniature version of an antique carpet beater—a small paddle of woven leather strips mounted on a short handle. “We only use this on pre-castration cases, and sometimes it does the job without the nurse.”
Jake’s eyes widened at the sight of the implement, real fear replacing his earlier defiance. Sweat now ran freely down his face, dripping onto the platform below. He scanned the crowd for any hint of sympathy or understanding. Among the sea of female faces he found only amusement and disdain reflected back at him.
“Please,” he said, the word escaping before he could suppress it. “I understand the lesson. This isn’t necessary.”
“Just like that sexual assault wasn’t necessary, either, eh Jake?.”
The first strike with the paddle drew a sound from Jake unlike any he had made previously—higher in pitch, almost desperate. His body jerked violently against the restraints.
Lucy felt a little sorry for Jake, but he had brought it on himself. And besides, it was so interesting — professionally speaking of course. So interesting the way his scrotal sac swung with each slap of the paddle, how he shuddered and flinched. Such a big man defeated by a woman with a little wand. Lucy parted her lips, and shifted her posture to press her thighs together.
Gladys continued the methodical application, each strike precisely timed and positioned. Jake’s responses evolved with the progression—his initial shouts giving way to hoarse grunts, then to a series of broken sounds that seemed wrenched from somewhere deep within him. His legs trembled continuously now, the restraints preventing him from collapsing despite his weakening muscles.Lucy realized that this was no longer about punishment alone; it was about transformation. With each passing moment spent under their watchful eyes, Big Jake felt layers of himself peel away, revealing something softer beneath—a vulnerability he had long buried beneath layers of toxic bravado and entitlement.
And yet deep within that swirling chaos lay a flicker of defiance still clinging desperately to life—a stubborn ember refusing to be snuffed out by humiliation and pain alone.
“It’s time for the masturbation phase,” Gladys announced and applied a generous amount of the clear gel to her palm. Jake’s penis had remained flaccid throughout the last severe spanking phase. But as Gladys’s slick hand wrapped around his shaft, despite the pain still radiating from his testicles, his penis responded to her touch, engorging, stiffening in her grip.
“Look at this thing, ladies. Even after all fuss, he’s still ready to play. Boys are somethin’, ain’t they?”
Lieutenant Steele began to keep the time, ensuring Jake’s ordeal was fair and precise. “You have sixty minutes starting now. The subject must refrain from ejaculating until the countdown reaches zero.” The large digital display visible to both Jake and audience began its countdown: 59:59… 59:58… 59:57…
After a few minutes, Gladys gestured for the trainee to join her. “Lucy, come give me a hand. This big fella needs more than one set of fingers to get the job done.”
Lucy eagerly stepped forward, applying lubricant to her own hands. She positioned herself on Jake’s other side, her small fingers joining Gladys’s in a synchronized rhythm along his shaft.
“See if you can work the underside while I handle the crown?” Gladys demonstrated, her expert fingers tracing the sensitive ridge beneath his glans while Lucy’s palm slid along the thick vein running the length of his shaft.
Jake’s breathing changed immediately, becoming ragged and uneven. His massive chest heaved with each breath, muscles straining against the restraints. Despite his predicament, his body responded eagerly to their combined ministrations, his penis growing thicker and darker with each stroke.
“That’s it,” Gladys encouraged. “Feel how he pulses? He’s fighting it, but his body knows what it wants.”
The agonizing manipulation continued. This was not edging; it was a deliberate, focussed masturbation. Gladys and Lucy’s hands moved with sustained determination in their intent to compel him to surrender before the hour was up. The women probed every sensitive spot, explored every vulnerable inch, sparing no effort as they drove him toward the brink of ejaculation.
Yet, Jake fought valiantly against his own nature. The persistent throb that coursed through him was both maddening and intoxicating, a relentless reminder of his vulnerability. Each tantalizing stroke along his length threatened to shatter the fragile dam he had constructed against humiliation. But he clung stubbornly to a lifeline of self-control. His mind raced as he grappled with the overwhelming sensations. He tried conjuring thoughts that would quell his building arousal: memories of cold showers, recitations of dull statistics, anything that might anchor him away from the precipice over which these skilled masturbatrixes sought to push him.
Each passing moment seemed to stretch into eternity, a test of endurance and willpower framed by the ticking clock on digital display. Every second was a battle fought silently within him—a struggle to maintain dignity amidst degradation. The audience watched in rapt silence, their collective gaze fixed upon the unfolding drama. Among them were whispers and gasps—speculations on whether Jake would succumb to their efforts or persevere until time itself offered reprieve.
After 45 minutes, Jake still resisted their combined efforts. His face had contorted into a mask of concentration, eyes squeezed shut as he fought against the unrelinting assault. Lucy and Gladys exchanged doubtful looks. Nurse Chen moved closer to asses Jake’s arousal state. “Penile vasocongestion well developed. Prominent coronal ridge engorgement. Testicles have ascended,” she observed. “Emission phase is potentially imminent, but subject possesses unusually strong plateau resistance.”
“He’s got remarkable stamina, I’ll give him that,” Gladys observed, her voice tinged with professional appreciation as Jake’s body quivered beneath their ministrations. “But justice has to be served, one way or another.” She leaned closer to Lucy, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Talk to him, honey. I could tell he was hot for you. Get inside that thick skull. Men like Jake—their ego’s tied right to their cock. Make him want what we want him to do.”
Lucy nodded, instinctively understanding what was needed. She moistened her lips and leaned in toward Jake’s ear, her soft breath tickling his skin as her fingers maintained their relentless rhythm.
“Your cock feels so big in my little hand, Jake,” she cooed, her voice transformed into something honey-sweet yet venomous. “Do you like the way it feels on your cock? Is this what you wanted when you saw me? To have my fingers wrapped around you like this? Better be careful, though. Your balls are on the line… literally.” She giggled, the sound girlish yet menacing in its innocence. Jake’s eyes flew open, his gaze meeting Lucy’s with a mixture of hatred and helpless arousal. He knew what she was doing, and why.
“Excellent,” Gladys thought to herself, observing the effect of Lucy’s improvisation. “She has the gift.”
Jake’s jaw clenched, a vein pulsing visibly in his forehead as he fought against the dual assault of Lucy’s words and her increasingly confident strokes. His hips betrayed him with an involuntary thrust. Lucy felt Jake’s involuntary thrust against her palm. His desperation was palpable.
“Oooh, what are you doing? Are you fucking my hand, Jake?” His eyes widened with humiliation as his hips jerked forward again, unable to stop the primal response.
“Does my hand feel like a pussy? Would you like to fuck my pussy right now? I have such a nice pussy, all for you Jake. Do you want to fuck it?”
Jake’s breathing became ragged, his massive chest heaving with each labored breath. Sweat poured down his face, dripping onto the platform below. The clock showed 52 minutes had passed—just eight more to endure.
“Want to fuck me? Want to cum in my pussy?” Lucy whispered, her tone at once mocking and seductive. “Is that what you’re thinking? Fuck my hand, big boy…”
The silence in the plaza was absolute now, hundreds of women holding their collective breath. His hips began to move in a steady rhythm, thrusting into Lucy’s hand as if possessed by a will separate from his own. His eyes, once cold with contempt, now burned with a desperate, animal need.
“Are you gonna make it, Jake? Can you hold out? Can you hold it in like a big boy? Or are you going to cum in my hand pussy, just like a teenager.”
She leaned closer, her lips nearly brushing his ear as she whispered with poisonous sweetness. “Is this what girls in high school let you do, before you became a big stud?” Her fingers tightened around his shaft, the rhythm perfectly matching his involuntary thrusts. “Let you hump her hand in the back seat of her parents car?”
A whimper escaped him, the sound so broken and vulnerable that several women in the audience shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “Could you control yourself then, Jake? Did the girls tease you and make you cum in their hands instead of their pussies?”
Lucy, now completely in command, wasn’t hurrying Jake toward ejaculation. She was edging now, not masturbating. Her hand moved with confident precision, occasionally pausing just long enough to deny release before resuming stimulation. As Jake’s urgency grew, so did her own sexual excitement. She wanted to prolong the session, relishing her pleasure, the dark thrill of teasing the strong man to his own unmanning.
Her verbal teasing continued, each whispered suggestion more targeted than the last, exploiting the psychological vulnerabilities she had identified throughout the session. She slowed her strokes deliberately, her eyes locked on his face, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed his features.
“It’s just between you and me now, Jake, and you know what I want you to do.” Lucy continued, her voice taking on a silky quality she barely recognized as her own. “I want you to lose it for me. I want you to let yourself be castrated.” Lucy’s words were knives cloaked in velvet, cutting into Jake’s very core with deadly precision. There was a traitorous part within him—a deeper, darker shadow—that found itself curiously drawn to the abyss she beckoned towards.
The plaza had grown eerily silent, the collective breathing of its spectators almost palpable in its restraint. Every eye was fixated on Jake’s struggle: a magnificent beast tethered by invisible chains forged of shame and desire. He was an animal caught between two worlds—the primal realm of instinct and the stark reality of his impending fate.
Leaning in closer, Lucy whispered into his ear “What would Nurse Chen’s scalpel feels like,” she mused aloud, her voice intentionally carrying to those nearest them. The malevolent curiosity in her tone was enough to chill him to the marrow. “Cold at first, probably. You would be numbed; you wouldn’t feel much.” She paused, savoring the visible ripple of apprehension that coursed through him.
“Then just a little pressure … or maybe a gentle tug … And then…” she continued, painting the mental image with a tantalizing stroke of menace—her voice an artist’s brush wielding vivid shades of dread and arousal in tandem. Her hand maintained its unyielding rhythm upon him—a relentless tide drawing him toward inevitable submission.
“And then…” She repeated, the sentence hanging unfinished in the charged air between them, allowing Jake’s imagination to spiral downward into those unspeakable depths she did not need to articulate. It was enough for him to know; it was enough for every witness present to sense the horror behind that pointed omission.
“Wouldn’t it be special to lose them? Just for me? In front of all these women? In front of her?” She tilted her head almost imperceptibly toward the victim in the front row.
“Four minutes remaining,” Lieutenant Steele intoned, the entire plaza seeming to hold its collective breath.
Jake’s body convulsed suddenly, a violent tremor that ran from his shoulders to his ankles. A sound emerged from deep in his chest—something between a groan and a sob. His penis pulsed visibly in Lucy’s grasp, the tissues darkening with blood, the glans swollen to its maximum capacity.
“Three minutes remaining.”
“Please,” Jake gasped, the word barely audible. “I can’t—hold on”
Lucy slowed down, maintaining relentless stimulation, but drawing it out, not forcing him over the edge. Her eyes fixed on Jake’s face as the last vestiges of his former arrogance dissolved into naked desperation. The man who had arrived sneering at female authority now hung suspended between pleasure and terror, his entire existence reduced to the struggle for control over his most basic biological function.
“One minute remaining.”
“Now, Jake! Lose it for me. Before it’s too late. Cum for me now. You want it too. Let them castrate you, for me, just for me.”
It happened with thirty-seven seconds left on the clock. Jake’s body went rigid, his spine arching as far as the restraints would allow. A cry of mingled pleasure and despair tore from his throat as his penis jerked violently in Lucy’s hand. Ejaculate surged forth in powerful pulses, arcing through the air before landing in the collection tray below, spurts striking with such force they rang through the amphitheater.
The timer continued its implacable countdown—00:36… 00:35… 00:34—but the outcome had been decided. Jake’s shoulders shook with silent sobs as the final drops of semen left his body, the relief of release overwhelmed by the knowledge of what would come next. And Lucy, for her part, was unable to suppress the shudders wracking her body or her cry of ecstasy. Her climax, simultaneous with his, was apparent to all.
A profound silence fell over the plaza as all eyes turned to the woman in the front row. The protocol was clear: Jake had failed to maintain control for the required duration. The fate of his manhood was hers to call.
She rose slowly from her seat, her expression unreadable as she approached the platform. The audience watched with collective anticipation, the moment stretching into something ceremonial and profound. She stood directly in front of Jake, forcing him to meet her gaze.
For many seconds, no one moved or spoke. The only sound was Jake’s ragged breathing. His eyes, which had arrived full of contempt and later fear, now held something entirely different—recognition, remorse, the dawning awareness of a man seeing the humanity of someone he had previously viewed as merely an object.
With deliberate slowness, the woman extended her right hand, palm down, fingers slightly curled—the imperial gesture that preceded the final judgment. The entire plaza held its breath.
Then she turned her wrist, pointing her thumb, upward.
Mercy.
The crowd sighed great sigh, as one breath. Gladys nodded, and Lieutienant Steele looked on without expression. Nurse Chen closed her medical case with a click that echoed through the silent plaza. It was impossible to say whether she was relieved, or disappointed.
Jake sagged in the restraints, relief washing through him in visible waves. Tears streamed openly down his face now—not the desperate tears of fear but something deeper, more transformative. The man secured in the pillory was fundamentally different from the one who had arrived sneering at female authority. Something essential had been broken and reshaped within him.
As the crowd began to disperse, many of the women—their faces flushed, movements slightly hurried—made their way toward the Comfort Stations at the plaza’s edge. Lucy glanced in that direction, the physical evidence of her arousal visible in her dilated pupils and quickened breathing.
“Go ahead,” Gladys told her with understanding. “You’ve earned it. That was exceptional work.”
Lucy smiled gratefully. “Are you coming too?”
Gladys shook her head. “I like to wait until I get home. The Department sends us the video records. Viewing them in private helps me… appreciate the details better.”
Lucy hurried off to the Comfort Station. Gladys turned to comfort Jake, sobbing quietly in the pillory, as he awaited transfer back to the rehabilitation facility to begin the long process of reintegration.
When Lucy returned fifteen minutes later, her face flushed but her posture more relaxed, she found Gladys completing the final documentation in the staff area adjacent to the plaza.
“You did remarkable work today,” Gladys said as Lucy joined her. “You have natural instincts for this profession. The way you incorporated verbal elements without prompting—and the way you teased edged him right up to the end, so that his failure was of his own choice.”
Lucy beamed at the praise. “It just felt right in the moment. Like I could sense exactly what would push him over the edge whenever I chose.” Then she continued uncertainly, “Was it wrong of me, the way I did it? I feel kind of bad about it. He could have held out if I’d played straight. But I … really wanted him to be … castrated … because of me. It made me so hot I couldn’t help myself.”
“Oh honey, no. It’s natural. That’s what lots of women want these days. If it was up to me, We’d neuter all of them. Fix’em like puppies before they even get started.”
“Will all my days be this… intense?” Lucy asked, a note of hopeful anticipation in her voice.
Gladys laughed softly. “Not every day. But there’s never a dull moment in Male Correction. That’s one thing I can promise you. By the way, if you are interested, you are welcome to join me at home to review today’s video. We could go over again the high points. It would be … gratifying to us both.”
Lucy blushed, understanding the full implication of the offer. “I think … I would like that very much.”
As they walked away together, each silent in her own thoughts, Gladys felt that particular satisfaction that came from meaningful work well done—justice had been administered, boundaries established, and most importantly, a new generation called to duty: maintaining social order through the application of shame, arousal, and female authority.
~~~ The End ~~~
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Pillory Park | by Richard Lovel | Copyright 2025 | All rights reserved
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
RL-2025-07-05