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THE WHIPPED WOMEN OF MISOGYNY

by Louis Woodley


1. Family Birthday Celebration

"Come on slacker, get up! You know what today is, and lying around in bed is getting you off to a bad start! You don't want to give him more ammunition to use against you."

I groaned, but he was right. Today and every day after this were going to suck royally but there was nothing I could do about it right now. I'm Ellen Pryor and my family lives in a village of devout followers of the Church of Misogyny.

So what does that mean? It means that anyone with a penis is automatically more important than anyone with a vagina. The men do all the talking and decision-making. The women do all the cooking and cleaning and beer fetching without complaining. Why? Because if we don't do whatever it is that they tell us to do, or if they decide that we're 'getting an attitude', it is their sacred duty to beat the stuffing out of our tails to teach us respect.

It sucks, because they can be total dicks to us and nothing happens, but they can decide that we've rolled our eyes funny at them, so we've been disrespectful and have to bare our butts for the Rod of Correction to straighten out our behavior.

And that's what truly sucks about today. Because today is my brother Richard's 18th birthday, which means that he's now officially a man in the eyes of the Church. And since he's a man, Dad is going to present him with his very own rod to show that he's now lord and master not only over all the women in the household, but the women of the village too.

So once he's given his rod, he naturally has to try it out... over and over and over. Today is going to be an all-day caning fest for His Majesty because he's basically given free rein to make all our butts ache.

He'll get to start by whacking all the women in our house (including Mom) to show us that he's a man of the house now. We'll get one stroke per year, so even if I'm a perfect saint all day I'm still going to get whacked 17 times. But there's no way in hell he'll let me off that easy. He gets to assume Dad's normal position of critiquing everything we do, so any time he finds a fault our asses will pay for it.

But the only thing that's going to spare our butts is the fact that we're not the only ones on the chopping block today. The whole community celebrates adding another man to the fold by turning him loose on every woman in the village. The men will have their women waiting on the doorstep for a celebratory naked butt thrashing from the new man; every female from Grannies to teen girls is going to feel his rod today. I'm sure he's going to be yanking on his rod tonight (as if he doesn't already) thinking about all the naked butts he got to whack.

And then beginning tomorrow he can just punish us with impunity. Mom can appeal to Dad if she thinks that he's getting too carried away, since it's only supposed to be corrective, but, as minors, me and my sisters just have to take it unless Dad tells him to dial it down.

That means that theoretically he can punish Mom as well, but that isn't going to happen often. Dad is too much of a horn-dog about Mom's ass to let either Richard or my older brother David near it. He loves making up excuses just to spank her, and then afterwards he takes her back to their bedroom so that she can express her contrition in private. Then we hear the headboard hitting the wall as he's banging her.

But if I get married off then I'll be expected to put out on demand unless I want my ass whipped raw. We get taught that a man has needs so it's a woman's job to make sure they're met whenever and wherever. So even if you've been working all day while he's been swilling beer in front of the football games on TV, it doesn't matter. Hop up on the bed and spread 'em (that's the Church's definition of foreplay as far as women's needs are concerned).

For the women, the 18th birthday is entirely different. Once you officially become a woman you've got until the end of the day to make your final choice to be in or out of the community. If you leave you're gone for good and pretty much dead to the rest of the community; but if you decide to stay then you're stuck for life. So obviously it's weighted heavily against us - give up your family and everything you've known for an outside world you know little about, or a lifetime of indentured servitude. Either way you're screwed. Technically the guys can leave too, but why would they?

To the outside world the women are a bunch of freaks for subjugating ourselves like this but I'm sure a lot of the men would love to have Rods of Correction for their wives. The men leave the village to work, but women never leave without an escort. So when there is shopping to be done we have to be escorted by a man. So from our family's perspective, having a third man available makes it easier to coordinate trips, although I'm sure His Majesty will lord it over us just to show off.

I'm almost 17 (393 days away from D-Day) and unlike most of the other girls my mind is already made up (I just don't intend to share this information with my family). Until about a year ago I never knew that I used to have an Aunt Christina; I only found out about her from an old photo album that didn't get purged. She chose to leave and everyone pretended she never existed. Luckily for me, everyone thinks I'm too cowed to risk contacting the outside world, so I don't have to be a computer genius as long as I carefully cover my tracks.

So I searched online and found her. Then I set up a special email account that my family wouldn't recognize, and I got in touch with her. She promises me that the best decision she ever made was getting away from this loony bin, so she's going to take me in. In the meantime I just have to ride this out and then make my bolt for freedom and never look back.

God, I can hardly wait to tell every guy in sight to kiss my ass, and there won't be a thing they can do about it. I'll miss my mom, but there's nothing I can do for her; but I'll be there for my sisters if they come to their senses and want to escape. If not, then I hope they enjoy the red asses they're going to have for the rest of their lives.

So now you see why I'm not looking forward to today.

My brother David is pretty okay; he doesn't usually go out of his way to find things we've done wrong (which makes him somewhat of a wimp to some of the Church members). A lot of the older girls envy his fiancée because they figure that her ass isn't going to get beaten on a regular basis like everyone else's.

But Richard is a total dick. He's been looking forward to today for months and bragging about how raw my ass is going to be by the time he gets through with me today. Life will be okay with David still at home, but as soon as he gets married, Dickhead will officially be in charge whenever Dad isn't here.


But my older brother is right, I needed to get my butt moving, so I threw on my dress and went to go help. This is a big celebration so we pile on the food first thing in the morning (when the women can still sit down to eat). I could smell the bacon frying before I even got to the kitchen.

Mom gave me a quick hug and asked me to check the biscuits in the oven. Meanwhile Ruth was digging through the fridge and Anna was setting the table. And while we were working the Anointed One was sitting on his ass watching ESPN with David, as usual doing nothing to help. Dad hadn't made an appearance yet.

Finally the table was ready and Anna was sent to fetch Dad from their bedroom.

Dad came out all dressed up and carrying his present for Richard: his very own rod, which he would shortly be christening on our behinds. It was about an inch thick, with just enough flexibility to really bite into your butt, and a rubber grip to make sure he could hold onto it all the way through his swing. My butt puckered up just looking at it; Dad had spared no expense in buying Richard a top of the line model that was notorious for the stripes it left behind. This was going to be a long day for our butts.

But Dad had to turn it into a big stage production, to make sure that we all understood what a big deal in Richard's life this was and how we should be proud to play our parts in ushering a new man into the community. That's easy to say when it isn't your butt that's getting whipped! It's not exactly like we're thrilled that a vindictive little weasel like Richard now has free reign over us.

We don't get to go wild with food like this very often, so even though everything from here on out was going to royally suck, we all sat around chatting and chowed down until we were stuffed.

Unfortunately, eventually everyone was through eating and it was time to get down to business. Dad handed over the rod to Richard and told him to take charge of the ladies. And just like that, the mood changed.

"Alright ladies, I want you out of your chairs and into the den!"

I'd heard the rat practicing his lines in his room but it still came out as more of a squawk than a threat. But to refuse to obey was totally inconceivable, so we all pulled out our chairs and got up and marched. Dad and David sat on the couch to watch the show while we stood there awaiting his next command.

"Okay, pin those skirts up out of the way and then get in line. Anna you're first, and then line up by age, so Mom's last."

Since we were going to be repeatedly thrashed over the course of the day, we followed the old tradition of pinning our skirts above our waists to keep them out of the way, and remained that way until it was time for bed. None of us wore underwear. Given we were thrashed so often, there was no modesty at this point; besides, a skirt would just get pulled up and down multiple times and eventually it would chafe against our sore flesh anyway.

Mom had left her sewing kit on the table, and so for the next several minutes she helped pin up our dresses so there was nothing protecting our tails from the rod we were about to receive. Once we were all situated we lined up in the required order.

"Anna, step forward!"

I knew she was scared, but she also knew what was expected of her and so she complied without quibbling.

"Anna, do you recognize me as a Man of the community?"

"Yes sir."

This was the same spiel we'd heard a couple of years ago when my older brother turned 18 and had his day to whip our asses.



© Louis Woodley
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