Roger Emerson was at the cusp of learning what most Americans never really understood: the extent of the penal system in Singapore. Roger had conducted business in Singapore for several years, but never fully appreciated the intricacies of the culturally mixed court system, nor did he understand the sense of justice that was almost inbred in the life long residents of Singapore.

As the celebrated Michael Fay incident suggests, Singapore was formerly a British crown colony and has been an independent member of the Commonwealth of Nations only since 1965. The use of the judicial cane on bad boy Michael Fay clearly indicates the years of British influence on that nation found at the tip of the Malay Peninsula. And, because of its strategic position, Singapore has long been fought over and occupied by other nations.

Even the long and cruel occupation of Singapore by the Japanese during the World War II era had a profound effect on the justice system. The Japanese were ruthless and uncompromising masters, a trait that has been carried over into many aspects of modern day Singapore, its society, and its judicial system.

Roger Emerson was just beginning to understand all of this. Roger is a business broker, specializing in micro electronics, especially computer chips. He works at the very edge of legitimacy, brokering transactions for pirated or “knock-off” computer chips. And, because of operating in this fringe or shadow world of imitations, Roger earns many hundreds of thousands of dollars every year.

Of course, that is where he ran into problems. Intel, and other chip makers, had lobbied hard through the US government to clamp down on the Pacific Rim chip pirates and Roger was caught in its drag net. Sitting now in a conference room in the court building, Roger is mulling over a plea bargain presented by his attorney. Also present in the room is Sandra Synochet, a representative of the US State Department.

Roger, the archetypical “ugly American” had screamed loud and long about the injustice and mistake of his arrest. It had cause quite a scene and the story was picked up internationally. Unfortunately, for him, he was quite guilty of trading in pirated chips and was facing a 5 to 10 year jail sentence.

Because of his screaming that, “you can’t do this to me, I’m an American!” he had placed the Singapore court in a very awkward position. It might have been possible to quietly suspend sentence and deport Mr. Emerson, but the local population had become quite aroused over the incident. After hundreds of years of subservience to other countries, Emerson’s squealing appeal for preferential treatment was the worst thing that could happen. The public believed firmly that justice must be served, and it would be or riots would break out in the streets.

That situation caused the prosecutor and the court to suggest an alternative to many years in jail. “Think carefully, Mr. Emerson, about what you are about to decide,” warned the State Department’s Miss Synochet. “The ‘Foreign Correction Program’ is apparently quite severe. Michael Fay received a serious caning for a prank; a prank that would normally have cost him four or six months jail time. You, on the other hand, are facing a sentence of up to ten years!”

“You don’t understand, Miss Synochet,” Roger countered. “I make my living by selling and I have to sell face to face. Even one year out of circulation and I’ll be entirely out of business. I don’t have a choice and it’s only 30 days in this ‘Foreign Program’. If you people at State could have got off your collective dead ass, I wouldn’t be stuck in this mess.”

Silently, Sandra fumed. Roger’s arrogance was disgusting and she hoped he would go through with his decision. She had seen two other prisoners caned and she thought it would do this arrogant crook some good. And, he was a crook; there was no disputing that fact.

“Mr. Emerson,” interrupted his attorney who sensed that sparks were really about to fly, “I, too, must be certain you understand the significance of this decision.” Waiting for Roger to acknowledge him, he continued. “We do not know the exact extent of what goes on in the “Yellow Complex” as the foreign section is called. But, what we do know, from interviewing detainees when they are released, is that the punishments are quite severe. And that severity is both physical as well as mental. The jailers strive to break your will, hoping you will change your ways and also scare others to avoid breaking the law in our country.”

“I heard all that,” snapped Roger, “and I also know that not a single inmate was ever released with serious injuries. They aren’t going to break my arm or leg, for Christ’s sake!”

“No, most certainly not,” agreed the attorney, “but you will be severely physically punished and I am told the pain is quite excruciating.”

“Tough,” growled Roger. “It can’t be as tough as losing 5 or 10 years of my life and my livelihood. Tell ‘em I’ll take the 30 day Foreign Correction Program!”

The attorney shrugged his shoulders and said simply, “I will relay your consent.” Sandra Synochet shook her head gravely and looked down at the floor. She hoped that the glee she felt that this arrogant prick was going to get a real lesson in manners was not visible.

And so, that evening Roger Emerson was shackled and transported by van to the prison where he was introduced to the Yellow Complex. Two female guards completed the transfer paper work and escorted Roger to the internal processing room. He was shoved into a windowless room and ordered to strip. “You will place all of your possessions into the box on the floor and then slide that box through the slot beneath the door. You will be given a physical examination to determine there is no contraband and then the rules will be explained to you.” With a final shove, Roger was pushed into the room and as the door slammed shut he heard the guard’s final warning, “And, don’t make us wait!”

Already resolved to complying as fully as possible, Roger had determined that the best way to survive the 30 days was to be fully and completely cooperative. He bit back a sarcastic remark and quickly and quietly did as instructed. He placed everything he had, which was only the prison issue clothing, into the crude cardboard box and slid it through the receptacle in the door.

 

He waited only a few minutes, but standing naked in the bare room he shivered despite the oppressive heat. Suddenly the door burst open and the two female guards entered. They gave him short commands and he followed them completely, allowing them to place leather cuffs about his wrists and ankles. His hands were clamped together behind his back and a two foot bar was attached to the ankle clamps. Roger was then escorted out of the room, down a hallway to another room.

The door closed to the new room, which look like a medical examination room. He compliantly allowed the guards to remove the spreader bar and to attach the ankle cuffs to bolts in the floor. At his waist was a cold metal bar that reminded him oddly of a hitching post scene in Old West movies. His wrists were attached to a bar above his head which was subsequently winched up, stretching him to his fullest height with hands high over head. Roger did not like the next sound he heard: latex gloves snapping into place. He felt a pair of hands run over his shoulders and down his back, testing his musculature. “Roger,” one of the guards said, “This is where we introduce you to the few rules that we have here in the Yellow Complex. But first, I want you to understand our motivation.” The two guards stepped from behind him and eyed his body hungrily. Roger though they had the look a starving vulture must have when he first sees a dead rabbit. “My name is Alexia,” said the taller of the two guards, “And this is Esmerelda.” The other guard nodded. “My grandmother was a Russian refugee and my grandfather was some Japanese officer. Because of her mixed background, my mother was a whore until my father, a rather prominent public figure, took her out of the brothel and eventually married her. The stories of foreign occupation have been burned into my memory and it is those stories that make me want to work here. My family is quite wealthy and I don’t have to work. I do this, just to be able to deal with criminals like you. And, by the way, Esmerelda has a similar background ... actually, we are sisters!” Roger looked at both women and immediately noticed the family resemblance. But, he also noticed something else. Before, he had been too focused and too fearful of his new surroundings to really look at his jailers. They were stunningly beautiful women and if their mother looked at all like them, he could understand how a powerful man might take that whore as his wife. They both wore odd uniforms, quite unlike any prison guard uniform he had ever imagined. Oh, they had high leather riding boots, but the also wore short skirts that showed plenty of luscious thigh. A wide leather belt kept the blouse and skirt in place, and the blouse was an unusual design as well. Ample breasts were shoved up and out a daring diamond shaped opening that allowed the swelling breasts plenty of opportunity to be appreciated. Otherwise, the blouse was skin tight, even the high collar about their throat. “Go ahead and look, Roger,” teased Esmerelda, “That is one rule that we don’t have!” Roger blushed, knowing that he had been caught staring. He just hoped he hadn’t been drooling. “We’ll explain the rules to you,” Esmerelda continued. “There really are very few of them. First, we can tell you to do anything, and I do mean anything. The rule you need to know about is that you will do whatever it is you are told to do. Understand?” Roger nodded mutely. “Second,” added Alexia, “You will address us respectfully. You may call us ‘Ma’am’ or something similarly respectful, but if you ever use our given names, it must be preceded by ‘Miss’.” She paused and Roger nodded his understanding. Esmerelda added, “Finally, you may never have an erection without permission. Similarly, if you are ordered to be hard, you will get hard immediately. Failure to comply with your required ‘state’ will require severe punishment.” “And,” added Alexia, “Severe punishment will be quite common. You are here to be punished!” Looking to her sister, Alexia said, “Please proceed with the examination, sister.” Esmerelda chuckled and stood behind Roger, pressing her large breasts into his back. She allowed her hands to wander across his chest and she kneaded and prodded his various muscles.

As her hand wandered down his flat stomach, Roger felt his cock begin to stir. Afraid of the consequences, he tried to concentrate on anything but Esmeralda’s latex covered hands, but his efforts were unsuccessful. Alexia clucked her tongue. “Not here even an hour and he’s already broken a rule.” Roger’s eyes widened as he felt Esmerelda grasp his hardened cock and watched Alexia unbuckle and remove her wide leather belt. “We’ll see how long he keeps that unnecessary hard-on when my belt kisses his ass.” “I’m sorry!” pleaded Roger, “Please, she was teasing me. It’s not my fault!” He fearfully watched the tall, muscular woman approach his left side. She deftly pulled her arm back and sliced the belt through the air. CRACK! He yelped, but could do nothing to avoid the stinging tongue of the leather belt, and Alexia gave him half a dozen rapid fire lashes. Roger groaned with each stinging stroke and his manhood subsided. “That’s better,” cooed Alexia, “Your punishment would have been over, but if there is one thing we absolutely hate, it’s a prisoner who tries to blame his mistakes on others; especially if he blames that mistake on us!” Roger saw a sudden blur of motion at his right and too late noticed Esmerelda swinging her own leather belt at his pinkened bottom. CRACK!! Then from the other side, her sister gave him another severe taste of the lash and together, they gave him perhaps a dozen searing strokes with their belts. They stopped as Roger screamed, “I’m SORRY!!” He gasped for air as the sisters replaced their belts. Roger, happy the immediate ordeal was over, thought the sister-guards were releasing him as they unwinched the bar his hands were secured to. Their intent was not to release him, rather they kept lowering the bar until they could attached it to another post, forcibly bending Roger at the waist, his body at a perfect 90 degree angle. He jumped nervously as the bar clicked loudly into its secured position. He was startled yet again, as he felt something cold slipped between his bottom cheeks. When he felt the insistent pressure on his sphincter, he realized one of the guards was slipping a lubricated finger into his rectum. A sudden rough push and the guard’s finger slipped past the tight little ring of muscle and penetrated his bottom. The finger slid slowly, seductively, in and out, tickling his prostate gland and Roger felt that familiar stirring in his groin. Uncontrollably, his penis hardened and that situation was confirmed by the probing guard’s other latex enclosed hand. “You’re right, Alexia,” noted her sister as she fucked Roger’s ass with her finger, “this little man just can’t control his urges!” She released his cock and plucked her finger from his asshole with a noticeable “pop.” Alexia had retrieved a thin whippy cane and stood just in front of Roger, swinging the thin rattan, demonstrating its flexibility for Roger. “This,” she told her fearful charge, “is not the judicial cane that you will come to really fear. Rather, this is a school cane that is much less severe, but it is still an excellent tool for garnering a naughty convict’s attention.” Alexia went to the appropriate position to the left and rear of Roger’s waiting bottom. With little ceremony, she whipped the cane across his naked cheeks and grinned with satisfaction as Roger squealed with pain and a bright red weal creased the center of his bottom. A few long seconds passed and Alexia brought the stinging cane back down across his vulnerable bottom and Roger tried to bite back his pain, now only grunting from the shock. A few more seconds and a third nasty stroke was all it took to return his cock to a shriveled and uninterested state. Before she could give Roger another stroke, Esmerelda asked, “Sister, could we play my game with him?” Alexia nodded her assent and Esmerelda unhooked the wrist bar and winched Roger back to his original upright position. With a bit of relief, Roger noted that the bar was not winched as high as before and he shoulders felt somewhat more comfortable. “I’ll bet you’re wondering what my game is?” asked Esmerelda as she slid up next to Roger. Her breasts teased his chest and she ground her hips into his pelvis. Smiling, she clarified her intent. “I want you to get hard and I want you to fuck my hand. That’s pretty easy, isn’t it?” A skeptical frown creased Roger’s face as he watched Esmerelda squeeze some lubricant from a tube into the palm of her hand. She reached out and massaged the generous glob of grease onto his cock, which began to stir from the attention. “Now that’s all I’m going to do,” she told him. “I’ll just stand here with my fingers loosely griping your cock and I want you to fuck my hand until you cum.” Roger gave a few half hearted pumps with his hips and heard the sudden and unmistakable whirring of the cane as it sliced through the air and stung his bottom. Roger’s hips thrust forward more vigorously as a result of the sudden cane stroke. “Oh, I forgot,” Esmerelda told him, “Alexia is going to continue to cane you until you do cum. You better work hard or she will peel the skin right off your bottom with that cane!” Roger looked over his shoulder with fright, just in time to see Alexia pull back her arm and sweep the cane viciously into his unprotected bottom. He grunted and screwed his eyes closed from the pain, but began to seriously, very seriously, fuck Esmerelda’s hand. Only two strokes later, and Roger had spurted his seed and stopped the caning. The guards released him from his bonds and he only had to be told once, to get down on his hands and knees to lick up his mess. Roger did so with great enthusiasm, not wanting to give the sisters any incentive for further whippings. He was rewarded by being led to his cell, apparently the only prisoner in the Yellow Complex, then given a spartan dinner of a clear broth that had some sort of fish chunks in it, a cup of rice, and water. He was allowed to sleep with no interruptions and felt recovered and refreshed in the morning. He had been awake some time when his jailers came for him. “We have an interesting situation, Roger,” announced Alexia. “A few of your countrymen are interested in your welling being so we have invited them to witness one of your punishments.” “Oh, no! No one has to be around to see this!” he complained. “Would you like an extra caning this morning?” Esmerelda asked with no little malice in her voice. “No, NO! I’m sorry,” he whimpered, immediately fearful of giving them any excuse to torture his bottom further. “That’s better,” assured Esmerelda. Then she warned him, “We are going to play my little game again, but this time it will be a little different.” “What do you mean?” he asked, his fear rising palpably. “You’ll see soon enough,” urged Alexia. “For now, place your hands on your head and don’t let them move from there. We’re going out to the court yard for this punishment.” Reluctantly, Roger placed his hands on his head, and allowed himself to be shepherded out of the cell block and into the courtyard. He felt horribly exposed and displayed, even though there was no one visible in the courtyard except for his jailers. A high brick wall surround the open space so no one could see into the yard, except perhaps from the windows of one of the guard towers. “Turn around slowly, in a little circle,” Alexia ordered as she and her sister stood away from him. Roger did as instructed, and as he turned his back to the guard tower, thought he heard some one say “Oh, my God!” He blushed hotly as he realized that there was a witness in the guard tower. “That’s right, Roger,” Esmerelda said, “There is an audience behind the glass. If you look closely, you might be able to recognize them.” As Roger peered at the glass window he began to make out the figures behind it, despite the early morning sun glinting off its surface. “They noticed the stripes on your bottom from last night. And, they probably think they look cute. I know I do.” Roger blushed again, but continued to stare at the window. Suddenly, he recognized who was there. In front, was Sandra Synochet with a big smirk on her face. Behind her were two other women, one Roger recognized as Sandra’s secretary and the other was the Ambassador’s secretary. Obviously, they were out for a little visual satisfaction, and Roger suddenly regretted having treated them as badly has he had when his troubles first started. He jumped as Esmerelda grasped his cock and began to urge it to its fullest size. He blushed again, humiliated as he felt his manhood respond. As his cock became engorged, Esmerelda warned him, “The judicial cane is quite severe. I suggest you stand and take it or we will have to strap you down and give you twice as many.” She released his cock and stepped away. This time, the whirring was much lower pitched and the long, thick judicial cane striped his bottom expertly. The rifle shot crack was heard clearly in the guard house and Roger groaned miserably, arching his back in an effort to ease the pain and still maintain his position. Esmerelda reached over and gave his cock a few quick tugs, urging him back to his fullest erection, then let go and stepped back just as the low pitched whirring came again. Roger groaned and writhed again, still cognizant of his audience, but much more concerned about the agonizing pain this heavier cane was inflicting. Again the whirring, and Roger thought that he had been cheated because Esmerelda had not encouraged or rewarded his cock. CCRRAAAACCKK!!! He jumped, howled at the pain, but maintained his position. His cock had shriveled. “Give the ladies a little treat, Roger,” ordered Esmerelda, “Masturbate for them. I’ll bet they’d like to see you spurt all over like a little boy in the bathroom with a dirty magazine.” Roger put his hands down and grasped his cock, pumping it furiously as he hoped that the caning would stop when he came. Another fearsome stroke and he bent over, accidentally providing an inviting target that Alexia could not resist. The sudden repeat stroke stood Roger up and he pumped his manhood even harder. “Dance for them, Roger,” encouraged Esmerelda, “Pump your hips, make a sexy show!” Shamefully, Roger did as ordered, still pumping his cock and fearing the next awful cut of the cane. WHHIIIIIRRRRR .... CCRRAAAAACCKKKKK! The heavy cane sliced into his hot bottom and he shot his load at the same time. Sticky cum was clinging to his hand and Esmerelda ordered him to lick his hand clean and to make a show of it for the ladies. As he sucked his fingers clean, he watched as the three women waved at him, then turned and left. “I hope they’re satisfied,” he mumbled to himself. “If they are not,” answered Alexia, “they’ll be back. You still haven’t even finished your first day!” Roger groaned and grabbed his tortured bottom, now wondering how he was going to survive an entire month!