Two days later we flew London to Amsterdam and on to Lilongwe where we boarded a forty-seat Tumali Airways plane to Chapoti. Although the plane was full, only four other women were on the flight, all of African origin. I was very nervous but if anything Roger was more so. We held hands; that was almost a first for us. Although we’d been though college together, neither of us went out much or attended parties, so we didn’t really get to know each other until graduation and we both had honours degrees. It came as a great surprise when we met again at the interviews for jobs on Today’s World and as newbies on the staff we were together quite a lot. I quite liked him but he always seemed very insecure and wanting to be mothered. We were both teased over our relationship but it didn’t make any difference. Now we were being thrown together in a country where intimate sexual relationships were the norm and I constantly wondered if that would change our association with each other.

“We are now crossing into Tumali airspace, please fasten your seat belts. The pilot’s voice came over the loudspeaker.

The Tumalian stewardess came to me and I was shocked to notice that her blouse was completely undone and her breasts were in full view. Roger eyes popped wide open. Ma’am, she said quietly, Women in this country are expected to show their breasts at all times. May I suggest that it would be wise for you do so now, before we enter the terminal building? This was something I’d seen on the web site but deemed that surely could only apply to native women, not white guests invited into their country. Invited, so I’d been told, by the country’s second in command.

I turned and noticed that the other women had opened their blouses and some sort of cup on the underside supported their breasts and thrust them forward. They seemed proud of them or perhaps it was the sapphire coloured broach that nestled just above their cleavage they wanted to show. I decided, I just couldn’t bare mine. No, I replied as forcefully as I could, We are visitors and I have diplomatic immunity from Colonel Nubaro.”

A look of disbelief crossed stewardess face. If you say so ma’am. On your head be it but I would strongly advise you to conform to our rules. It can be painful if you don’t. Deliberately I crossed my arms over my chest and she went away. We knew from our researches that Tumali women went around like the native Africans of former days as a protest against the white colonialists and missionaries, but I was certain that it shouldn’t apply to me especially as I had Colonel Nubaro’s indemnity document.

While we waited in a small room for our bags to be hand delivered to us from the plane I took the opportunity to look around at the others in the terminal building. Every female did indeed have their breasts exposed, even those too old to have more than sagging sacks. Others looked at us. We were definitely the centre of attention but I put that down to our being white and foreigners and I gathered from the staff at Lilongwe that foreigners travelling to Tumali were a rare commodity. No doubt too, my very fair skin and long blonde hair made me even more conspicuous.

The first hint of trouble came when we presented our documents to a uniformed official. First he didn’t like the fact that I went first, then when he’d examined Roger papers said loudly, Woman you are in Tumali now, bare your tits! All eyes turned on me as I tried to explain that I had diplomatic immunity. He threw the paper back at me. There is no such thing as diplomatic immunity here, we only have diplomatic relations with North Korea. Colonel Nubaro doesn’t involve himself in such things, the document it a fake that you have concocted. You obey our laws or suffer the consequences. At this point surprisingly Roger tried to come to my aid but the disturbance brought a senior officer to us and after a few cursory questions called to four nearby guards to arrest us.

By this time I was very angry as well as nervous and protested loudly. The man took it calmly and smiling through gleaming white teeth ordered, Guards, strip them both and take them to the punishment area. We cannot have the British thinking they can do what they like with us again. I struggled and Roger protested but, outnumbered by powerful men, soon we both stood naked and cuffed in front of all the people in the concourse. I blushed the deepest red from the utter humiliation and I think it was almost matched by Roger’s colour. It was the first time we’d seen each other naked and the first time I’d had even a hint of what his prick looked like.

By this time I’d given up complaining and through my sobs started pleading but was curtly told to Shut up and sit down. We sat on what we knew from its sturdiness and the straps was the punishment bench while the officer opened our cases and bags and in front of everyone examined their contents. All my bras and knickers were confiscated, as were Roger underpants. These are illegal items and must not be worn here. Turning to a girl cleaner standing watching, he ordered, Lift your skirt Malu. She did so immediately and lifted her skirt as high as it would go and proudly showed her bare pubis and her obviously well pregnant stomach.

A cry from one of the guards searching my hand luggage gave a shout, Look what I’ve found sir. He held up my pack of contraceptive pills.

“Illegal drugs. Didn’t they tell you that no form of contraception is allowed here? Didn‘t you read the forms you signed to get your visa? Again I tried to explain about the immunity and he fact the visas had been granted without us having to apply for them, but no one took any notice. By now I was crying and desperately wanting to be home again but I couldn’t see that happening unless this Colonel Nubaro came by personally. You will have to go court and be tried for this offence. That’s probably a whipping offence and I don’t have enough authority for that.”

“Whipping offence? Birth control pills a whipping offence? Our researches had found pictures of whipping posts and of people being punished on the Tumali web site but they were all small jpg’s that didn’t show much detail. I almost passed out at the thought and then wondered if the court would take notice of the certificate that now seemed so worthless.

“And I’ve found these in his luggage, another guard shouted. To my surprise he held up a pack of Mates.

Never would I have believed that Roger would have the nerve to buy condoms but with whom did he expect to use them? Me? The natives? Must be me, from our researches we knew Tumalian women wanted to be pregnant. I guessed we would be in real trouble now. Roger just tried to hide his face in shame.

“More for the court to deal with, the officer went on and again turned his attention to m. However, I can deal directly with the other offences; the bringing in of banned items of clothing, refusal to bare your tits; causing disruption to our services and then showing us a fraudulent document. As it is your first time and possibly can claim partial ignorance of our ways, I’ll be lenient and sentence you, Elaine Eves to just twelve strokes of the strap. It is with some regret that I will not be allowed to fuck you afterwards. Someone high up has forbidden it until the court decides whether that is allowed.”

“NO! No Noooo! I protested. Roger tried to intervene too but the clapping and laughter from the crowd drowned what he said. In any case he had his own fate to worry about.

“Roger Hart, you too tried to smuggle in banned items of clothing and contraceptives but worse than that, you failed to control the woman you brought with you. You allowed her to disregard our laws and traditions. Therefore I sentence you to the same punishment. This punishment will be carried out immediately in front of the witnesses here and afterwards you will be chained together and taken to a holding cell until such time as a court can be convened to try you for the drug smuggling and contraceptive offences. Fasten him and bring me the strap.”

My body started to sag into the arms of the guards holding me as I watched Roger, crying pitifully, being manhandled into place and fastened securely to the bench. For the moment I was more concerned with our expected punishment than the guard squeezing my breasts but there seemed nothing I could do to prevent either. A girl arrived with the strap, smiled and handed it to the officer. My God, that will kill us! I screamed at the sight of the broad strip of leather but that only caused the crowd to erupt in more laughter but I was passed caring.

The officer turned to me and with a huge smile showed it to my face. Lovely isn’t it? Thick but well oiled and supple, just the thing to teach you British people how to behave. It will be a delight to make you really squeal but in this country men take priority, even a gutless one like the wailing specimen ready for it down there.”

Through tear filled eyes I saw his arm lift and then the blur as the dreadful belt descended across poor Roger’s buttocks. I heard him yell but it was almost drowned by the laughter and clapping from the crowd. Again it rose and fell, again with the same accompaniment. Roger’s screams suddenly ceased and his body went limp. He’d passed out after only two strokes. Jeers followed as he was brought round and the punishment continued but thrice more it had to be stopped while he was revived. Even through the dread of knowing it was soon to be my turn, I felt a bit sorry for Roger when the crowd hissed and booed at his poor showing.

My mind reeled at the horror of it all and my body started to fade away too just from the sight of Roger’s bottom but strong arms gripped me under the armpits until it was my turn on the dreaded bench. They may not have been allowed to have sex with me but they certainly felt my opening and mauled my breasts as they fastened me down but I could do nothing to stop them. Out of the corner of my eye as I pulled against my bonds, I noticed Roger, crying like a baby, was being held where he could watch. Then I heard the swish and felt the tremendous pain and the fire that flashed through my body to my poor brain. I yelled just as loudly as Roger had done and like him, it was greeted with applause from the onlookers.

Crack! The belt landed a second and a third time and each time the pain seemed greater. I didn’t believe that I could take twelve like that but I did so without passing out. Vaguely I remember being lifted to my feet to more applause but it was a little while before I could stand and then we were taken to a small office the officer produced a pair of plastic cuffs connected by about two feet of chain. One cuff was fastened to my right wrist and the other to Roger’s left.

A girl brought our shoes and put them on for us but we were not given any of our other clothing. Take them to the holding cells, the officer ordered, But keep your pricks in your trousers. For some reason, a higher authority has forbidden it and in any case you are on duty. Maybe they want first chance. Ours is not to question why.”

Slowly and painfully we trudged along a stony track for what seemed like a mile but was really only half that distance, to what we assumed was the prison block. The guards were in no hurry and fortunately the sun was partially obscured by clouds due to the time of year and especially because of the altitude so we didn’t have to worry about sunburn; it was more the stares and jibes from people who we passed. Few would have seen a white person before and certainly not a naked couple chained and stumbling along with their backsides looking horribly red and sore. I tried to hold my head up but it was difficult to keep up the pose of being proud and British. Somewhere along the way, my hand felt Roger’s and it seemed easier to walk like that rather than keep pulling on our connecting chain. Neither of us talked much but every so often when we stumbled or the pain just seemed to be too severe, we let out a cry. Even at that time Roger seemed more of a baby than I was and moaned and cried for much of the way. Eventually we came to a walled compound and were let in through a heavy wooden gate.