BEYOND THE PESTILENCE

BEYOND THE PESTILENCE

PART 3

‘FROM BAD TO WORSE’

21

Stella and Brutus had a 5,000 square foot private bedroom suite in the west wing of their new building. It comprised a vast 80 x 30 ft bedroom itself, plus separate bathrooms, individual dressing rooms, and a shared ‘snug’.

The only servants allowed within the hallowed sanctum were their selected Bedroom Slaves, usually a well trained married couple. It was unusual for any pair to last more than a couple of months.

Their current brace had been in the role for three weeks, following two months of intensive training. Superbly trained and docile, they knew that just one mistake might be their last.

Neither woman needed to speak.

Stella allowed ‘Trophy’ to unzip her dress and assist her out of it.

The woman was legally still the Swedish second wife of an American Hedge Fund trader whose European fund had collapsed. She was 34 and truly stunning, in the cliché Scandinavian way; yellow-blonde hair, piercing sapphire-blue eyes and high cheekbones. Her slim but classic hourglass figure had curves reminiscent of a cup awarded for sport.

Stella had renamed her as a tease to ‘Hedge’ who’d married his younger ‘Trophy’ wife.

Trophy folded the dress hurriedly over the back of a daybed and began helping Stella remove her jewellery. One of Stella’s favourite new pieces – a necklace of fat diamonds – had once belonged to Trophy. Sadly her husband had not been able to sell it for Credits before being declared bankrupt.

Stella sat silently on the toilet urinating while Trophy prepared a toothbrush. This was a routine they went through together most nights. She sighed and began brushing her teeth while Trophy knelt and used tissue to wipe the golden droplets of piss from Stella’s labia. Without saying a word, Stella simply opened her thighs wider, leaning back against the cistern.

Trophy blinked and dropped hurriedly to her knees, pausing only to brush a flyaway strand of yellow hair from her face. She leant forward and put her lips to Stella’s dark bush, sliding her tongue through the curly hairs into the gummy folds.

Although she had enjoyed Paul’s tongue a few hours earlier, Stella always slept better immediately after a climax. Her sex life with Brutus was, to say the least, unpredictable now. A monthly ‘coming together’ was the most either of them wanted, for old times sake.

She adjusted Trophy’s head slightly and let her mind wander to her discussions with Rhino about the forthcoming Olympics.

22

Bond hung in cuffs suspended from a wooden beam in the centre of the barn. Spittle mingled with blood drooled from his cut lip. He was forced up on tiptoe, his ankles held apart by a spreader-bar.

“Naaahaaah …” Bond screamed again, as electric current ripped through his testicles and anus, joining and surging up his spinal column. The beam above creaked under his flailing weight as he thrashed and jerked.

When his blurred eyes opened again, he could still make her out, draped on a stack of hay bales, watching him. She had this crazy, half-smile on her face. It would have been pretty if it weren’t so damned terrifying. She was the archetypal Slav blonde, with a gem-shaped face that narrowed down to a rosebud mouth and pointy chin. She had small, perfect teeth and demonic blue-black eyes.

But most extraordinary of all, she was totally naked.

She had casually and unashamedly undressed in front of him. Her body was frail but she had toned biceps and legs and the most incongruously large breasts. Between her thighs she had a shaved vagina crowned by an exclamation mark of honey brown hair.

“N … no …” he stammered … “more … please …”

His vision was slowly clearing. He was transfixed by her vagina. Earlier he’d worked out she had to be 22, a year younger than his own daughter. Her labial lips hung open, slick like damp rose petals. Around them was a darker hued circle of skin rising from her pale buttocks to her clitoris.

She was visible excited. In her right hand she toyed with a vibrator, sliding the tip through her folds. In her left she caressed the electric zapper almost as fondly. Her nail varnish was blood red.

He felt her studying him intensely and sensed her deciding.

“Please … I …. Aaaaaahhh …!”

He lost control again, bobbing up and down in his bonds like a puppet.

Eventually, after who-knew-how-long, he managed to blink back to consciousness. His legs, thighs, genitals, backbone throbbed.

She was watching him, mouth open in an ‘o’, pleasuring herself with the the vibrator deep inside her. She was playing the zapper across her breasts, teasing one hard nipple then the other.

He hung in silence, praying she’d forgotten about him.

And then he heard her hiss, and moan, and exhale a long orgasmic shriek of ‘yessssss’ as her head arched up towards the rafters.

23

Rob lay curled up on the concrete floor. He rolled over yet again, dragging the moth-eaten blanket over his naked shoulder. He was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. Discomfort, hunger and thirst gnawed at his body, but most of all it was his mind that kept him awake. Images.

Dreadful visions of everything he’d seen that day; Amber, all that his love had been through, with him impotent to save her. Memories of the disgusting sex they had all been forced to participate in. Naomi’s body, Tony’s penis. And worst of all the smug face of Brutus. His corpulent bulk, his jowls, his obscene genitals. Amber’s mouth on his erection, swallowing his repulsive load. And the Irish Wolfhound, that poor woman struggling under the beast’s weight. He cringed at the memory of the crass comment he’d made about dog sex.

He turned over violently, staring in the darkness at the cell wall, inches from his face. His palms were wet. He felt sick, although his empty stomach groaned. He listened to his own breathing, a slight whistling in his nostrils, his heart beating. Somehow the silence in the tiny cell was deafening. He couldn’t hear anything through the thick walls. Where were they ? Where was she ?

He pictured Amber’s face. The gentle curve of her cheek, her soft lips. He shut his eyes and kissed her mouth. Her eyes looked back at him, fearful but trusting. She knew he would save her.

Somehow.

One day.

24

Katja unfastened Bond’s penis cage and removed it.

She stared into his eyes as she did so. Her body still tingled from her first orgasm. Yet she wanted more. Much more. His fear was beautiful. The pain was transitory, the fear would be permanent.

This one reminded her most of Zlatko. Of course, he was not the same. He was more refined with Anglo Saxon features whilst her shit-pimp Zlatko had been an uncouth Serb, but there were enough similarities.

She dropped his sheath to the floor and handled his shrivelled penis. Beautiful. He was petrified. She weighed his hairless nuts in her fingers, watching his apprehension as she squeezed lightly. She lowered her hand and ran her middle finger teasingly along his exposed anal crack, pushing at the tip of the steel conductor probe embedded inside.

“So, Mister Bond.” She said, cracking up at her joke. She sounded like a corny Russian villain in Goldfinger. Although she retained a clipped accent, her English was almost faultless. She was particularly fluent in four-letter words and the language of disgusting sex.

She teased his shaft, thrilled that he didn’t respond. No man could resist her manual skills for long, unless he was absolutely terrified.

“You lost all of my money.” She said.

“I’m s … sorry.”

She cocked her head to one side. He couldn’t meet her stare. She felt his eyes on her tits, avoiding her eyes.

“Sorry. Such an easy word to say.”

He glanced up, sweating. “I mean it. I really do.”

She smiled. He was slowly responding. She’d not lost her skills. In spite of everything, little by little, blood was flowing into his shaft.

“What can you do to make it up to me ?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know …” He fell silent.

She shrugged. “How do you propose to compensate me ? You know the phrase an eye for an eye. Where I come from, we say; a wife for a wife, a life for a life. It means the same thing.”

She glanced down for the first time at his thickening erection. When she raised her eyes he was red-faced. The blood on his lip had dried.

“Tell me about your wife, Bond.”

She watched his eyes. During the Cold War, the Soviets used hookers to interrogate. A whore knows when a john is lying.

“What …do you want to know ?”

She sighed. “Tell me where she is.”

“I don’t know.” He croaked. “Truly.”

She started pumping his shaft casually, until it was rock hard.

“And your daughter ? You don’t know where she is either, right ?”

He shook his head. He was nicely confused. The shocks. The situation. The sexual stimulation. The sudden questions.

She broke into a grin, letting go of his erection.

“Okay. We know she’s fled across the water and southwards. We also know something that you don’t. Your wife fooled you.”

She caught his momentary frown before he composed his features.

“I’m lost. I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your wife has a lover. We don’t know who, but he’s with her now. And they have your daughter and your secret stash. I bet they’re laughing.”

He shook his head. “No …”

She giggled, poking her finger under his chin. “Don’t worry. It’s not them I want. It’s you, pretty boy.” She licked the tip of her finger and slid it under the vein of his jutting erection. “Forget them. You’ll never see them again. Think only of me.”

His brown eyes narrowed.

This time she dipped her finger in the folds of her vagina and showed him the glistening string of fluid, trailing it under his nostrils.

“I love older men.” She whispered, huskily. “This is your one and only chance.” She glanced round cautiously. “Do you want to be one of my lovers ?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. She could tell his mouth was totally dry.

“I … I … but …”

She smiled kindly at his bewilderment.

“It’s not a trick.” She reassured him. “But it won’t be all fun either. I demand total obedience. Total devotion.”

She began fisting his erection again, making him gasp.

“I have a voracious sexual appetite. I adore lust, pain, kink and darkness. Are you …” she winked naughtily, “ … in or out ?”

He had started bucking his hips as much as his dangling position allowed.

“I …”

“In or out ?” she barked, louder. “Bondage, Mister Bond ? Or misery ?”

“ … In !” he wailed.

She chuckled, slowing her strokes, loosening her grip, until her fingers barely touched his desperate penis. She looked down, releasing it entirely. It wasn’t bad. But she was a connoisseur. She’d seen many larger. She’d had her fill of pricks anyway. The dickhead they were attached was all that mattered.

She returned to the bales and spread her thighs, enjoying his eyes feasting on her nakedness. She lifted both the pink vibrator and black zapper and blew him a kiss.

“Tomorrow I will let you lick me out, lover. Would you like that ?”

He blinked, then stared at her, grimacing at the pain in his shoulders.

“Yes.”

“Front and back ?”

He paused, working out what she meant.

“Naaahaaah …” he screamed, jolted to and fro.

She shut her eyes and lay back, easing the vibrator deep inside her.

25

Amber sat huddled on the concrete floor, her spine pressed against the dank wall. The coarse, mouldy blanket was draped over her bare shoulders.

She had slept briefly but then woken in a cold sweat. It wasn’t a nightmare, more a semi-conscious cycle of memories that made her shudder. She felt a disgusting feeling inside that made her want to shower more than anything else in the world.

She reached down and dragged her fingertips through her vagina again, wiping them along the concrete afterwards to try and clean them. Her mouth tasted not of the disgusting stew they’d been forced to eat at dinner but the lingering aftertaste of the huge orgasm she’d swallowed.

Strangely, she somehow felt less pity for herself than for Rob. What must it have been like for her husband to watch her do what she’d done ? He’d always been so proud, so possessive of her.

And just because he’d lost his job and bankrupt them didn’t mean …

No man ought to have suffered what occurred today.

No woman either.

And what was even more certain was that absolutely nobody deserved what might happen to them tomorrow.

26

Bond was woken at 05.00 hrs, taken to the showers by two burly male guards, and pushed under the ice-cold water. It numbed his brain but woke him up. He’d had barely any sleep. Every bone and sinew in his body ached. They watched while he dried off, shaved his face and brushed his teeth.

Then they escorted him down a corridor and knocked on a door.

“Enter”.

He recognised the clipped accent.

The room was dark. Particles danced in the sliver of dawn sunlight that sliced through the curtains. Katja was curled up in the double bed.

“You may leave him.” she said to the guards. “Come.”

He walked to the bedside. His eyes were growing accustomed to the light. She was tousled. Half asleep. She patted the bed.

“Sit.”

He rested his bottom on the edge of the soft bed. She looked so small, young. He flexed his fingers. He could have wrung her neck, throttled her in seconds. Before she could even call out to the guards. Yet, she betrayed no fear of him.

She reached up and fingered his smooth jaw, touching his lips.

“Mmm, soft.”

Her arm suddenly pulled back the bedclothes.

“Kiss my cunt.”

Her knees were akimbo. She was totally naked. Her teeth smiled.

He paused, still absorbing her brusque command. Then slowly he shifted along the bed, knelt between her ankles, and hunkered down.

She smelt musky, stale, warm. He could just make out her pouting folds, spread open like a hungry flytrap. He stuck out his tongue and licked.

“Mmm.” She giggled. “Did you do this to your wife ?”

He made a non-committal noise. In truth, it had been a long time. Years since he’d done this. To his wife or anybody else.

He felt her hand push on the back of his shaved head.

“Does it excite you that I’m younger than your daughter ?”

He eventually grunted a response again. He realised that her questions were for her own amusement rather than anything else. Teasing not interrogating.

Her hips spread and she gave a little buck into his face. Her juices ran slick against his chin, lips and nostrils. The musky odour had evolved into a strong womanly flavour, sweet and sour. He tried to blank out the nagging thought in his mind that she’d once worked as a prostitute. He suddenly became aware of his own arousal, despite himself. His penis was trying to expand inside its plastic toothed prison.

He grimaced, exhaling hot breath.

Her excited breath matched his. He felt her body twist and her left arm stretch down, fingers reaching for his sheath.

“Naughty daddy.” She rolled a nail over his exposed tip. “Very naughty.”

27

The gristmill was brutal.

Thirty six male slaves pushed three huge, heavy wooden wheels to grind the corn. Most of it became bread sold at market, under the Brute Bread brand; ‘our slaves are only fed so you get your bread’ was the tagline on its packaging. Under Stella’s direction, the Corporation had branched out from sex to selling all sorts of staple products.

Keith was one of 12 slaves working the middle wheel. Like them, he was fastened to a thick wooden bar, one fixed at each ‘hour’ of the ‘clock’.

It was relentless. Hour after hour, with almost no breaks, wading through the damp, sawdust covered floor, round and round and round. If they needed to urinate or defecate, they simply did it while they pushed. The wheel stopped for nobody.

Little heaps of human dung lay in the clotted sawdust. Clusters of flies and flying insects swarmed the hot barn, buzzing the slaves’ heads.

Inside a little glass, odour-proof cabin, three guards surveyed them. Red and blue wires were taped along the wooden bars and then connected to the metal hoops locking on the penis sheaths. Any slave judged to be slacking had his testicles shocked.

The first and longest shift was 06.30 to 12.30.

After a 15 minutes break for Porridge Slop the next stint began.

Second shift was 12.45 to 16.45.

It was the shortest but through the heat of the afternoon.

After a second 15 minutes break for Evening Gruel came the final session.

17.00 to 22.00

A nice relaxed five hours to end the day.

At ten o’clock, the utterly exhausted slaves would be returned to their cells.

28

An older slag named Ludmila had taught Katja everything she needed to know in those early days. Neither of them had spoken much English and they enjoyed the double-meaning of the verb ‘come’.

“The customer cums first.” They spat in thick accents, downing their sorrows in black humour and cheap vodka after yet another day entertaining a dozen clients from mid-afternoon until dawn.

Ludmila was mid-thirties, raddled and too embittered to enjoy sex. But Katja was only 16 and too embarrassed that she felt stirrings of a strange lust, albeit chased down by a bitter shot of hatred. Even then, five words had echoed round her brain.

“The whore cums first instead.”

She had fantasised about boys, men, males of any description dedicating themselves to her pleasure. Of course, back then, it was just a fantasy. A dream to help her to sleep. No more likely to come true than Richard Gere climbing a vine-clad wall to declare his love for Pretty Katja !

Yet the world can spin on its axis.

Fantasy can become reality.

She arched her spine and cried out, familiar fireworks exploding across the night sky of her climax. She heard her climax spraying his face. Katja was a squirter. Not always, but often. Once upon a time it had embarrassed her. But now she loved the animal evidence of her enjoyment, just like a man’s.

The sun had risen, lightening the room. She smiled down at his blinking face, glistening in the gloom. It reminded her of sordid assignations in hotel rooms, down on her knees blowing fat 50-year olds until they emptied their filthy pecker snot down her young throat, all for the price of lunch.

“Thank me.” She said.

He gulped. “Thank you … Miss.”

She snuggled down into the mattress, pushing up her thighs.

“Now tongue my asshole.”

She scrutinized him as his face slipped below the horizon of her mound. His expression was an intoxicating cocktail of fear, anger, lust and confusion. Her spine tingled as his tongue probed her sphincter.

“Mmm.” She sighed. “As deep as you can, darlink.”

She exaggerated the Eastern European accent. It felt so good to have her own anus licked at last. She tensed her buttocks opening her crack, stifling a giggle as she felt a bubble of early morning flatulence.

Why not ?

His eyes popped open as the quiet hiss ruffled his tongue.

Her eyes met his, steely and determined, masking any doubt.

It felt wonderful as he continued to lap obediently at her furrow.

And it was at that moment, and only then, that she realised the truth.

There were no limits here. None at all !

29

“Ah, Good morning.” Brutus said, as his favourite four slaves were ushered into the room. They looked dishevelled and exhausted, hair all over the place, smudged makeup, dark rings under their eyes.

He didn’t invite them to sit down, even though there were empty chairs. They shuffled, naked and nervous, in a line.

“This is my good friend Steve.” He said. “Steve, meet Naomi, Tony, Rob and Amber.”

Steve was one of the Brute Corporation’s top directors. He was handsome, prematurely bald on top, with close-cropped steel-grey hair at the sides, and a pair of jet black wraparound sunglasses. He nodded.

“You are going to be the stars of Steve’s new project. It’s a docu-drama called ‘Beyond Humility’.” Brutus beamed. “My title. Catchy, huh ?”

They gave various reactions; two false smiles, one gulp, eyes to the floor.

“The interesting thing is, humility is a good thing, right ? We’re all brought up to respect modesty. Blessed are the meek and all that. But what about way past meekness, beyond submissiveness even ? Surely that’s even better. But can it be learned ?”

Brutus paused, taking a slug of his coffee, grinning at Steve.

“How far can the human go ? That’s what I want to know. And that’s what this film will be about. Of course, we can force you to do whatever we like here. Anything. But can we teach you to swallow your pride and self respect so deeply that you reach a stage … beyond humility ?”

Steve spoke for the first time.

“This is a serious project, not some kind of porno-flick. I’ve done hundreds of those. But you’ve been chosen for something much more interesting. That’s an honour.”

He stared down their baffled frowns, so that they realised he was serious.

“So I’ve persuaded Brutus that we won’t waste time with any person, or couple, who’s not committed. You really have to want to learn true humility. If you’re not interested … well.” He crushed the empty paper cup from which he’d drunk his coffee. “I guess Brutus can decide what to do with you if you want to turn down his offer.”

Brutus smiled at them and opened his palms.

“Tony ? Naomi ? Thoughts ?”

The handsome black couple exchanged glances.

“We’d like to accept Sir. It would be an honour.” Tony said.

“Amber ? Rob ?”

Rob’s adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Yes.” He croaked. “We’d like to accept too Sir. It sounds great.”

Brutus lingered, looking into their eyes. Then he turned to Steve.

“Over to you, my friend.”

30

“What exactly are you thinking ?”

Rob opened his dry mouth but struggled to speak.

Amber and Naomi were standing together side by side, while the ten members of the film crew examined, fondled and filmed them. He watched his wife struggling to stay still as their calloused hands roved everywhere, over the tits, up between their legs. They looked a typical film and roadie crew from what he’d seen; all straggly hair in headbands, beards, paunches, dressed in dirty denim jeans and T-shirts.

But Steve was looking intently at him, camera rolling.

What exactly did he think ?

“I’m wondering how this all happened ? You know. How did life get like this, so quickly ? I’m wondering what will happen next ?”

Steve smiled encouragingly.

“Good. That’s it. Your innermost thoughts. You love Amber, right ?”

“Of course.” Rob stared at a bearded guy who was holding a boom microphone. He had bent Amber over and was fingering her ass at the same time. “Absolutely.”

“Did you ever think about her with other men ?”

“No. Never.”

“But she fucked guys before you, right ? Three, I heard.”

Rob shrugged. “Sure. Like most girls. I never wanted a virgin.”

Steve grinned. “Funny how many men say that. I wonder if, deep down, it’s really true. But anyway, you never fancied a bit of swapping, right ? You wanted her to be faithful ?”

“Yes.”

“How was it seeing Tony here nailing her yesterday ?”

Rob glanced over at Tony who was suffering every bit as much as he was. Naomi was bent over pulling her brown buttocks wide open for two men holding a camera.

“He hadn’t any choice.”

“I asked how you felt.”

Rob ground his teeth. “Not great.”

“And what about when the guard fucked her ? An Asian, I’m told.”

“Even worse. What the fuck else do you expect me to say ?”

Steve was silent, staring at him, the camera lens filming.

“That’s it. Some emotion.” He smiled. “And then she blew your owner, Brutus, right ?”

“Yes.”

“Did you consider that an honour ?”

Rob dug his fingernails into his palms. “No. To be fucking frank, I didn’t.”

“Mmm. This is good stuff. It will be interesting to see how things change as the days go by. Let’s go meet Amber.”

His wife was standing with her feet wide apart and her hands on her head. Some guy was pushing his fingers between her legs and sniffing them.

“She stinks.” He said. “Needs a clean out.”

Steve turned to Rob. “How does that feel ? Hearing a complete stranger speak about your darling like that ?”

“It’s hard to find the words.”

“Try.”

“I want to punch the lot of you. I’m finding it very hard to control myself.”

Steve nodded approvingly. “Excellent. Believe me, I love knowing that. The audience will too.” He stood in front of Amber and next to Rob and slowly appraised her. Her damp , hazel-gold eyes blinked back tears.

“If you were me,” he smirked, “where would you start ? With her cunt, the old fashioned way ? Or her mouth ? Or her ass, which is a bit of a cliché ? Does she do anything especially well ?”

“She makes love well.” Rob snapped. “To somebody she loves.”

Steve grinned. “Does she ? We’ll see. Though I doubt love is necessary. By the way, did you know any of her previous boyfriends ?”

“No.” He corrected himself. “Well, I met the guy she dated before me just once. Otherwise, no.”

“Ah.” He looked at Amber, lifting her chin with his finger. “You must write their names down for us, dear, and we’ll track them down. I’d like Rob here to meet them and I expect you probably want to be reunited with them too, eh ?” He casually fingered her nipple.

She shut her eyes. “N … not really.”

A few yards away, something similar was going on between Naomi, Tony and three men. They were inspecting every inch of her, asking him impertinent questions, their piggy eyes almost feral. All three were white skinned, fat and short. In contrast, Tony’s handsome face towered helplessly above them.

“These are pretty nice tits.” Steve continued. “But I think they could be improved over the next few days.” His eyes twinkled with amusement at Rob’s expression. “We’ll make them a cup size or two bigger. With some jewellery. And perhaps a tattoo or two ?”

Rob couldn’t help it. “You fucking bastard !”

There was a hushed silence. The group round Naomi and Tony turned round in shock to look. Steve raised his hand to signal it was ok. He turned to the cameraman filming the interview.

“You get that ?”

The guy didn’t speak, just stuck up his thumb.

Steve grinned, hefting Amber’s right boob in his palm.

“I’m afraid you husband’s lack of humility just cost you an extra cup size, dear. With a back as small as yours, a G cup is going to feel pretty heavy.”

He turned to Rob, his sneer hardening. “And that little outburst will cost you as well. Let’s go eat some breakfast.”

31

Rebecca sat at her office desk, drinking coffee, perusing the database on her screen. Her first ‘post-inductee’ waited in silence, feet apart, hands on head, bare breasts thrust out.

The screen flashed with a message icon. Stella clicked on it.

“Madam.” Her male assistant’s voice came through the speakers.

“Yes ?”

“The school party you mentioned has arrived, Madam.”

“They’re early.” She replied. “Make them welcome. Give them a tour. Nothing inappropriate.”

“Yes, Madam. Thank you.”

Rebecca returned to the database. The woman’s file was comprehensive. The Brute Corporation’s own data about her, listing price paid, vital statistics, photos and health check had been overlaid onto the original Stalitz dossier that contained her entire family history and personal record from date of birth onwards. The 2010 State Census had required all surviving citizens to complete a 50-page questionnaire on their lives. Her file had been topped up recently with a daily diary of short notes recording how each of the seven days since her arrival had been spent.

Rebecca looked up and smiled.

The 25 year old redhead was Irish. Her green eyes were striking, albeit rather dull and sunken under dark bags of tiredness. Her face was puffy and there was a small red scab where her lip had been split. Her pale body looked fine except for a few bruises and some fresh welts across her torso and upturned breasts.

“So.” Rebecca said, kicking back in her chair. “Colleen.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Sleep well, Colleen ?”

The woman swallowed. “Not too well, Ma’am.”

Rebecca shrugged, glancing at the screen. “It says here you had a few visitors during the night.”

“… yes, Ma’am.” Her whisper had a soft, Gaelic lilt.

“And it says that you were not a virgin when we purchased you.”

“Th … that’s correct, Ma’am.”

“Hmm, not quite the good Catholic girl you pretended to be. How many boyfriends did you fuck ?”

Colleen blanched at the crude language. “Just one, Ma’am.”

“How many times ?”

“Er … I don’t know, Ma’am. I’m s … sorry, Ma’am. We were together almost two years, Ma’am.”

“And how many men have fucked you since you arrived here ?”

The green eyes shut, blinking back tears. “I … have no idea, Ma’am. But many.”

Rebecca shook her head. It annoyed her when they got emotional. She felt like shaking their shoulders and slapping their faces.

Get over it woman ! You’re a slave. Just deal with it.

“And you don’t know the total number of times you fucked them ?”

“No, Ma’am.” Colleen was quietly sobbing now, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes.

“So what’s the problem ? Before you arrived, you lost count how often you fucked. And after you arrived, you’ve lost count as well. I don’t see why you’re crying. What’s changed ?”

Colleen bit her lip, trying to compose herself. Rebecca waited. It was obvious the woman either wanted to break down sobbing or to argue. But she did neither.

“N … nothing, Ma’am.”

“I can assure you that a bit of gang rape never hurt anyone.” She paused. “Not in the true sense of the word. Believe me, I know.”

Colleen had managed to stifle her tears and regained her mask of composure.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Rebecca smiled and tapped the screen. “Anyway, you’ll be pleased to know that your efforts during your induction have been recognised. You’ve been put forward for a promotion.”

She loved this bit. The pause, while the match of surprise lit a candle of hope in their minds. Colleen’s eyes widened. “Ma’am ?”

“Yes.” Rebecca dragged out the word, thrumming her fingertips on the desk, as if mulling over a great opportunity. Then she hosed water all over Colleen’s flickering flame. “We are considering you for elevation to a position as a full time hooker.”

“Oh … I …”

Rebecca laughed. “Scat got your tongue ? Obviously you will have to start at the bottom, so to speak. But at least you’ll have a career. It’s an opportunity that many slaves would give their teeth for. In fact, some have !”

Confusion and exhaustion were writ large on Colleen’s face.

Rebecca began typing on the keyboard, signalling the brief interview was over. “I’m sending you back for one more heavy session today. A final big bang ! Then you can join a course tomorrow and begin learning how to satisfy paying customers instead of lusty rapists. That way you can start repaying your financial debt to the Corporation.”

A leering guard appeared at the doorway.

“Dismissed.” Rebecca grinned and turned back to her screen as yet another new whore was marched away.

32

The table groaned with food. Amber’s stomach rumbled with hunger. She watched the men all sit down in a line, on one side of the table, like one of those paintings of the last supper. They were outdoors, in a dusty garden, but a canvas awning had been set up as a semi-permanent structure to shelter the table from the hot sun. There were a few trees but mostly the surrounding crops looked like salads and vegetables in neat rows. One or two slaves were silently harvesting them in the distance.

She was standing alongside Rob and next to Naomi and Tony. They were all still naked, grubby, dusty. She could smell body odour when any of them raised an arm. Tony had a distinctive, stale scent. She shivered at the memory that yesterday he had been inside her.

The crew were already tucking in, loading their plates with fried bacon, sausages, eggs, grilled tomatoes and beans. There were jugs of iced fruit juice visible and pots of tea, coffee, bowls of fruit, baskets of bread and pastries. It was so near she could see it all, smell it, taste it.

Steve the director, had taken the middle seat, with five of his team each side of him. He had put his black sunglasses back on and she couldn’t see his cruel eyes. She couldn’t deny there was something magnetically powerful about his lean face, with his short, grey hair at the sides.

“Right.” He addressed them all. “First things first. While we eat, you guys can use the bathroom.” He smiled as Amber and the others looked round. “No. You go here, folks. Alfresco, as nature intended, in the sunshine. Cameras rolling.”

He pointed at a pair of tripods set up with small cameras on them.

“First of all, who needs a piss ?”

Amber froze. She watched as Tony hesitantly put his hand up, then Rob, and Naomi. Finally she inched up her right arm.

“Four of a kind.” Steve nodded. “And who needs to dump ?”

Nobody moved. Amber tried to decide. It was true she probably could go, but she wasn’t sure she needed to. Until when ?

“I have no idea when your next opportunity will be.” Steve shrugged.

Still none of the four raised their hand. She just couldn’t do it.

Steve grinned and looked at them in turn. “Sure ? Last chance.”

Amber saw her husband nod his head determinedly. She did the same.

“Right guys, it’s just a piss show for now !”

33

Stella was sat in her office holding a meeting with three State Bureaucrats. They were discussing details of plans for the upcoming 2012 Olympics. She found a lot of the conversation tedious. Stella was no longer used to anything resembling democratic decision-making !

She watched in silence as the tiresome middle ranking officials debated amongst themselves. If necessary, she would simply go over their heads later. But so long as these mediocre, greedy, self-serving bureaucrats reached a conclusion in line with her own thoughts anyway, she would preserve her firepower for another time.

There were two men and a woman, all with the vermin-like features of truly selfish individuals; narrowed eyes, thin lips, sharp tongues. One of the men was monstrously fat with porcine features and bubbling jowls. He made Brutus look like a skinny rake. The woman was overtly ambitious, clearly trying to put down her male colleagues.

Demi arrived with another round of beverages and biscuits; coffee for the men and mint tea for both ladies. The conversation continued, disregarding her presence, as she walked round the meeting table, clearing dirty cups and serving full ones. But the two sets of male eyes didn’t ignore her cleavage as she leaned over them.

“Gentlemen.” Stella raised her fingers. “Would you like a closer look ?”

All three guests looked at Stella, slowly breaking into smiles.

She merely glanced at Demi who didn’t pause before placing the tray aside and unbuttoning her tight black housemaid’s blouse, then flipping it open and unclipping her frontloading bra.

There was silence as everybody stared at the gently protruding swell of Demi’s tummy and her heavy, pregnant breasts.

“Phew.” The fat man exhaled admiringly. “Nice.”

Stella winked at Demi. “She may be pregnant, but she can still give my guests a good time.”

Demi blinked, dry-swallowed, but inclined her head meekly.

Stella pointed her finger downwards then turned to her guests. “Shall we continue the meeting ?”

While they returned to the topic under discussion, Demi knelt and crawled under the meeting table. Moments later, the revoltingly fat man grinned like an overgrown schoolboy and shifted in his seat.

Stella listened as the conversation became animated again, stifling a smile every time the man shut his piggy eyes distractedly.

Well, it helped pass the time.

34

Amber blinked into the bright sun. She was in the ‘gymnastic table’ position, face up, on her toes and fingertips, holding her torso in the air.

Naomi was next to her holding exactly the same pose.

“Legs wider apart, ladies.”

She could see the leering faces of the men watching her. They stuffed their faces with fried food, wiping greasy hands against their hairy upper lips.

Amber parted her knees, brushing against Naomi’s.

“Right guys !” Steve instructed. “Kneel down on the ground between your own wives thighs. Quickly !”

Amber grimaced as Rob hurriedly fell to his knees. He glanced up at her then lowered his eyes to her vagina. She felt ashamed, disgusting. It was over two days since she’d washed. Her bottom felt grimy, her vagina was mucky, still stained by the remnants of that guard’s orgasm. She could also see Tony’s face over Naomi’s flat stomach.

Steve had got up from the table and he wandered over, carrying a mug of coffee. His face grinned down at all four of them.

“Okay, gentlemen, tongues out please.”

Amber couldn’t tear her eyes away from Rob. He pushed out his tongue.

“Right, stick them into your wives’ cunts.”

She shut her eyes and felt her husband’s soft, wetness opening her labia.

“Eyes open dear.” Steve touched her hair. “Look into the camera.”

She forced them open. Rob’s tongue started sliding up and down her slit. It felt strange, not sexy at all.

“How is that ?” Steve asked. “Tell the audience. It’s your first time giving your hubby a sour yoghurt pie, isn’t it ?”

“Y … yes.” She paused. “It feels weird.”

He chuckled. “Weird ? That’s a new one.” The live audience laughed. “Well things are going to get a whole load weirder !”

Amber’s fingers and feet were getting tired. She listened to him talking to Naomi, ridiculing her and Tony as well.

“Okay, gents. Let’s move those tongues to their assholes, yeah.”

Rob’s eyes disappeared from view. She felt his tongue flicking into her bottom. She raised her hips to help him gain access.

“Hey, the lady likes it ! Did he used to starve you of good analingus ?”

Amber rolled her head, trying not to respond. Rob had tried it just once. Early on. She’d been fresh out of the shower one evening and they just got carried away. But it wasn’t something he ever pushed or she remotely missed.

Steve knelt, resting his cup carefully on her abdomen. He hunkered down so that he could get his head close to where Rob was licking her.

“Don’t spill my coffee.” The base was hot against her skin but bearable. “So, you’re not a keen asslicker, huh ? How’s her cornhole taste ? Make it nice and clean for all our cocks, kid.” He turned to Amber and stroked her cheek. “You ready to piss ? Or perhaps you need to take a shit after all ? A good tongue tickling tends to loosen the bowels.”

“Pleas …”

He cuffed her face. The coffee cup rocked alarmingly. “Shut up with that please crap ! Ready to piss ?”

“Y … yes.”

“Hear that, toilet ?” he poked Rob’s head. “Get your laughing tackle round your lady’s cunt and form a bowl for her.”

By now, the other cameramen, sound guys and film team were finishing their food and wandering over to join the circle. One crouched and checked the fixed lens on the tripod was perfectly aimed.

Rob’s mouth was open wide, his lips pressed against her body.

“Okay, lady. Turn on that tap, nice and slow. So there’s not too much spillage. You’re in a competition with Naomi and Tony here.”

Amber looked in horror at the grinning, bearded faces peering down at her in amusement. A couple of them had lit cigarettes.

“Uhgh …” she grunted, and carefully relaxed her bladder. Rob’s blue eyes widened in shock. He was staring at her, along the length of her body.

“That’s the way.” Steve said. “Gulp it down. Get a nice rhythm up. Help each other out. Piss slow and drink fast is the secret. Whoops ! Spillage.”

Amber grimaced and squeezed her muscles to slow her flow. She felt Rob’s tongue brushing her labia and then he resealed his lips round her skin. He stared at her in panic.

Steve looked at his watch.

“Twenty seconds gone. Take your time, Amber. We’ve got all day to amuse ourselves.”

35

Sadie sat at her desk.

It was morning surgery and she was examining a nice 30 yr old boy whose genital area was bleeding. Scabs around his penis and scrotum had turned septic. His eyes shone with tears as her latex-gloved fingers peeled away some dried pus.

“It really is your own fault.” She teased.

“Yes, M … Ma’am.” He winced.

He was well endowed. Impressively over-sized. Somebody had either been careless or mischievous at his arrival and fitting. The chastity tube was way too tight, even when he was limp. The rim chafed both ends.

Her left finger grazed his scrotum. His penis trembled, even in its state. He was totally devoid of pubic hair due to electrolysis.

“Naughty.” She snapped, amused but pretending otherwise.

“I’m so sorry, Ma’am.”

She knew from his file he’d been a slave for 77 days. Completely chaste throughout almost three months. This one had been single when he was purchased, enjoying a lusty bachelor’s sex life up until his arrest.

She cupped his balls, enjoying their heaviness.

Underneath her white coat, Sadie wore only a virgin white garter belt, sheer white stockings and white leather heels. Although her age was a closely guarded secret, she had the body of a 57 year old, but the tastes and desires of a woman 30 years younger.

She looked at his confused face and pointed at a gynaecological examination table. “Go and bend over that.” She ordered.

36

“Twenty seconds gone. Take your time, Amber. We’ve got all day to amuse ourselves.”

Rob heard Steve’s sarcastic words. He found it impossible to swallow properly whilst keeping the seal tight against Amber’s damp skin. He stopped gulping and tried opening his throat, just letting the strong-flavoured liquid slide down. It was so hot. Bitter tasting, pungent, but above all surprisingly hot.

And there was so much of it. She had to have been bursting. It kept flowing out of her. Ten, twenty more seconds passed before he felt the pressure dwindling, and the flow at last dwindled to a few drops.

Underneath his chin there was a spreading puddle on the stone deck.

“Not bad.” He heard Steve, the fuck-head director say. “How much was wasted Bill ?”

“I’d give them a 7 out of 10 for waste, Steve.” A voice said.

“Okay. That’s what the other two have to beat.” Rob watched Steve lift his mug off Amber’s tummy and felt a tap on his head. “Get up and go stand by your wife’s head. It’s her turn to be your urinal now.”

He rose off his knees and walked to Amber’s face. She looked up at him with wild eyes. His darling looked like she was losing it. He tried to reassure her with a cautionary stare. He heard the hiss of Naomi pissing into Tony’s mouth, the chuckles and cruel comments. He realised that he wanted the other couple to lose, to splash the ground. It was everybody for him or herself now.

“I’d call that a tie, Steve. Another 7 out of 10.” The same voice said.

Steve turned and winked. “Then it’s up to the ladies.” He wandered over and casually flipped the metal tube that encased Rob’s penis. The plastic pins made him wince.

“Lay your dicky down over her lips.” Steve said. “I’ve seen this done many times. It’s easy. That’s it dear. Mouth wide. Say ahh ! It’s as near as you’ll be getting to your husband’s dick for a while yet.”

He smiled, jabbing his finger into Rob’s bare chest.

“Don’t look at me like that kiddo. Okay, let it rip.”

In truth, Rob really did need to go. He shut his eyes a moment and tried to treat it like any normal piss. He felt his dick twitch inside the steel cylinder.

Amber was still in midair on her hands and feet. Her head was back, eyes looking right up at him. She screwed up her face like she’d eaten a lime.

Steve laughed at them both, patting the zip of his own jeans.

“My coffee’s gone right through me, you know. Pretty soon I’m going to need to go too.”

Golden fluid bubbled out all over Amber’s face. Rob tried to control his flow to give her respite. He heard her sucking her lips around the tip.

Steve crouched and whispered into Amber’s ear, loud enough for Rob to hear.

“How does that taste ? Get used to it. If you’re a good kid I’ll take you as my personal slave as part of my fee for this movie. You can be one of my toilet ladies.”

He rose and winked at Rob. “Finished ?”

Rob sighed, his flow diminishing at last. “… yes, almost.”

The hairy guy called Bill peered at the ground. “I’d give that no more than a 5 out of 10, Steve.”

“Whoops. You two left the door open for the other guys there.”

Rob watched Tony repeat the exercise with Naomi. They did pretty well. The black woman’s throat gulped noisily as she swallowed her husband’s urine.

“Got to give that a 7. Clear winners.” Bill said.

Tony clenched his fist. Rob dry-swallowed with tension.

Steve unzipped his fly and stood astride Amber’s mouth. His expression was a mixture of amusement whilst daring Rob to challenge him. He fished out his penis casually, letting it lollop out of his denim jeans.

“Come here.” His finger curled at Rob. “Kneel behind her and hold her head still. That’s it. Right dear. Mouth wide open.”

Rob cradled Amber’s head, supporting her. He looked in her eyes.

“Look up at me. And invite me to piss down your wife’s throat.”

He shut his eyes. He couldn’t do it. He shook his head slowly.

Steve sighed and winked at Amber. “He’s a kinky fuck, your husband. I can see he’d like to see you fuck a dog real soon. That just cost you two one hundred points. A nice lead for Naomi and Tony to take into the next round.”

Amber stared manically up at Rob, imploring him.

“Please … I invite you to p … piss down her throat.” He gasped.

“Tch.” Steve smiled. “Better than that. I’m offended now. Beg me.”

“Pleeease … Sir … I really beg you to piss on her … like she was a toilet.”

“Not, like she was a toilet. She is a toilet.”

“She is a toilet.”

His arc of golden urine sparkled in the sunlight, sending a splash of rainbow into the air. The jet bounced off her forehead, onto Rob’s fingers. He watched Steve correcting his aim in between Amber’s lips.

“You getting this ?”

A guy leaned closer with a handheld camera.

Rob watched the piss frothing, bubbling. It had felt bad watching his wife drink his own urine but this was a hundred times worse. Amber gulped and her mouth emptied, although a wave broke all over her cheeks.

The assault was relentless. He looked up into Steve’s face, pleading with him to be merciful. Couldn’t he at least spray her face and body a while ? But the director simply smirked and kept his aim directed at the bulls eye. Amber part-choked, sending a gush back out of her mouth, but yet more simply streamed in. Forty, fifty, almost sixty seconds.

Eventually, Steve stood, shaking his dick, sending the final drops over Amber’s naked stomach and thighs. He tucked his dick in his pants.

“Okay, guys. The toilet’s free.”

37

Eric shivered, petrified in front of her desk. He waited in silence, feet apart, hands on his head, his chest thrust out. He was naked.

He knew the woman’s name was Rebecca. And she was the Head Trainer. There was a sign on the door and he’d also overheard two guards talking about her. How she’d once been a slave herself but was now a free woman. Not only free, but one of ‘them’; rich, powerful, brutal.

She sat ignoring him, staring at the screen on her desk. He kept his own gaze fixed straight ahead. His eyes flickered over the display of photographs behind her; colour face shots of men and women with names and numbers underneath.

She looked up at him, curling her lip. Her brown eyes were compelling. They seemed able to bore through his shameful nakedness into his gut, his mind, his soul.

“So. Eric.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Sleep well, Eric ?”

“A few hours. Thank you, Ma’am.”

“You’ve been here a week now, right ?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He replied. A week. It seemed a lifetime.

“Have you seen your parents ?”

“I’ve seen my father, Ma’am. Not my mother.”

“And your sister ? What’s she called, er, Kimberley ?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Tell me about this strange sect you all belonged to. Bunch of weirdos, right ?”

He felt her sarcastic gaze scrutinizing up and down his body and blushed. His penis hung in the metal tube between his shaved legs. He believed that nudity was a sin. Men and women should never look at each other that way. A husband and wife might touch each other, but only if necessary, and always in the dark.

“Our beliefs are sincere, Ma’am.”

She smirked. “Sincere but against the law.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And you’re a virgin, right ?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“In all ways ?”

He frowned. In all ways ? What ways were there ? “I …er …”

She sighed. “Look, I know you haven’t ever fucked a woman, Eric. But what about your backside ? Or mouth ? Have you been fucked yourself ? Tried a little gay oral ?”

He recoiled in horror. “No, Ma’am. Absolutely not.”

She tapped something on her keyboard. “Well I have good news for you, Eric. You’ve been put forward for a promotion.”

He blanked. Promotion ? Wow. What did that mean ?

“Yes. We are considering you for elevation to a position as a full time male prostitute.”

38

Amber lay on her back on the wooden bench outdoors.

She’d finished heaving her guts out for the fourth time as every single member of the film crew used her as his urinal. The quantity of hot, bitter liquid and acidic taste of her own vomit had drained even the bile from her stomach.

Now her wrists were tied and her ankles were suspended above her, wide apart. The water was only three degrees above freezing. Two enema tubes hung on poles, slowly cramming both her rectum and numb vagina with the chilled fluid. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably and her skin was turning blue. A horrible, brown-toothed man was directing a hose haphazardly at her body. He spent a few seconds spraying her thighs, then her breasts and then her face. She could hardly breathe through her tormented nostrils as he let the stinging curtain of water play over her nose.

“Right.” Steve shouted, as the flow from hoses dwindled. “Now that you’re all nice and clean. We have a job for you.”

He pointed at the four grinning, bearded men who had been handling the hoses. The other three were facing Naomi, Rob and Tony. The same horrifying one leered at Amber.

“My friends here would like a clean up too. But the water’s too cold. So they’d like a tongue bath. While you all hold those enemas inside you.”

Amber watched in horror as the man started removing his overalls. Nearby, another man was undressing in front of her husband.

She heard a gagged commotion from Rob and Tony. But within seconds she was solely preoccupied with her own problem. The man who’d hosed her was shucking his stained underpants off. His paunch sagged, covered in a thick mat of hair. He had to be at least twice her age !

His body cast a shadow over her as his bony fingers loosened the gag in her mouth, unbuckling the strap. He stank of tobacco, garlic and sweat.

“Now.” She heard Steve’s voice again. “Just so as you know. The carrot is that there are one hundred points up for grabs in this game. The winning couple takes the lot. The stick is that … well.” He chuckled. “Let’s leave the stick as a surprise, huh ?”

The bearded man grinned, throwing the gag aside, and wiping spittle from his lip with the back of his hand. He patted Amber’s swollen waist gently.

“Nice to meet you, little Amber. Let’s start, huh ?”

She watched in horror as he stood awkwardly on one leg and raised his other foot, plonking it on her left breast. She stared. His foot was grimy, but worse, the yellowed toenails were huge, ragged and uneven. He turned slowly and squatted over her face.

Out of the corner of one eye, she could see Naomi already licking another man’s sole. Gagging, she stuck out her tongue and began sliding it over the man’s sole.

He smiled. “That’s a girl. Got me a daughter your age, you know. She had to leave school at 16 and worked in some crummy job as a supermarket shelf stacker before the pestilence. But now she has a supervisor’s position here and good career prospects. She loves the job. That’s it. Suck each jammy toe. Get that tongue flushing between them.”

He stopped talking at last. There was now an eerie silence, apart from her hushed sucking. After several minutes of her slobbering on each foot, he knelt alongside and leaned over her, until his armpit hovered over her face. She whimpered. Her violent cramps were increasingly regular. Her internal muscles ached. She was desperate to go to the toilet.

“Okay darling. Let’s wash my pits next.”

She baulked. They were hairy and foul smelling. Hadn’t the man heard of deodorant ? But she knew she had no choice. She forced herself to stick out her tongue and start lapping.

He smiled at her. “That’s it. I’m going to have me a nice hot bath later and I’ll already be clean by the time I get in it. What’d we all do without our nice slaves like you ?”

After a while, he chuckled, and she heard him pass disgusting wind noisily. There were groans of mock-complaint and laughter from around them.

“Now, little lady.” He whispered into her ear. “There’s one more part of me that needs an extra special good tongue bath. And I’ll give you one guess where that is ?”

39

Kimberley followed the female guard down a long corridor to a huge oak door. It was labelled ‘Private – knock before entering’.

The woman turned, checked Kimberley’s sackcloth top, then adjusted it so the neckline was pulled low. She gave a stern look and whispered.

“One word of warning. She is the second most powerful female in this place. And the most demanding. Do whatever you’re told.”

She knocked.

After a few moments, the guard pushed the door open. “Mistress Lara ?”

“Enter.”

The woman stood back and ushered Kimberley ahead. With a gulp, palms perspiring, Kimberley walked into the room.

It was enormous; more luxury than Kimberley could have imagined. Great swathes of oriental carpets, plush curtains, expensive antiques, art and sculpture covering the walls. At one end, there was a vast four-poster double bed with two Siamese cats curled up on the covers.

“Come.” A voice said.

Kimberley heard the door shut behind her. She recognised the woman called Lara, who was sat in a cream silk robe having her wet hair combed out by another female. A beautiful oriental girl. Slowly Kimberley walked towards them.

Lara waved. “Ah, Kimberley ! Welcome to my humble home.”

She wasn’t sure whether to reply. “Th … thank you, Miss.”

Lara curled her finger. The nail varnish was scarlet. “Nearer.”

She stood inches from the two women. The oriental girl had lustrous black hair flowing halfway down her back, and coal-black eyes with arched eyebrows. She surveyed Kimberley, while combing Lara.

“Kimberley meet Jade. Jade, Kimberley.”

Kimberley smiled nervously. “Hi.”

“We’re all good friends here.” Lara said, winking at Jade. “Aren’t we ?”

The girl’s tongue slid along her thin mouth. “Yes, Miss.”

Lara raised an eyebrow at Kimberley. “Take that horrible sack off.”

Slowly, like an automaton, she obeyed, pulling the itchy top over her head, holding it in front of her nude hips.

Lara waggled her finger.

Kimberley dropped her clothing onto the floor. She felt Lara’s strong gaze appraising her in silence. Jade also stared, though less intensely. For a full minute, nobody spoke.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a toilet flushing. Kimberley looked round in surprise. She saw a stunning Indian woman ambling towards them with a warm smile on her face. But it wasn’t the naked woman that shocked her.

It was the open-plan bathing area that filled the opposite end of the huge room. It was stark white, with opulent furnishings. There was a huge sunken bath in the centre, with a large walk-in shower to the left and a marble counter with three basins to the right.

And at the end there were three toilets, one of which the dusky skinned woman had been using.

“Amulya, darling. Meet our new friend, Kimberley.”

Kimberley smiled apprehensively again. “Er … hi.”

The woman’s mysterious brown eyes softened. She had an incredibly slim waist and a dancer’s physique. She didn’t reply.

Lara gestured towards the bathroom. “Feel free to use the facilities at any time, my dear. But do let us know first.”

40

Sadie admired the young man’s muscular buttocks.

“Relax.”

She eased her index finger into his bottom and identified his swollen prostate. He gasped and whimpered as she gently probed.

“Good boy.” She encouraged. “Keep completely still.”

Her own loins felt warm and moist. She cast her mind back to when she was already 27, imagining this pretty hunk being born somewhere. He had surely spent all his life preparing himself for the moment when he’d be allowed to pleasure Doctor Sadie Thorne.

“Tell me.” She cooed. “Does that feel good ?”

She heard him gulp. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Let’s milk that mouse then.”

She was silent for several minutes, concentrating on extracting his prostatic fluid, being careful to check on his reaction. Eventually, she recognised the signs and his penis started discharging harmlessly onto the floor tiles.

He groaned. It was difficult to differentiate between relief and frustration. What was certain was that he hadn’t enjoyed any orgasmic release.

“There we are.” She commentated matter-of-factly. “All done.”

A glistening puddle under his legs was slowly spreading across the floor.

She removed her finger and snapped the glove off, jettisoning it into a pedal bin. She smacked her palm crisply across his bare buttocks.

“Stand up.”

She smirked into his gorgeous olive-hued eyes as he stood and looked at her. His cheeks were flushed. She’d treat the raw scabs round his genitals afterwards.

She reached for the bottom of her medical jacket and slowly undid the lowest button.

“I think I deserve a little reciprocity, don’t I ?” she asked, huskily. “Come over here and get down on your knees, pretty boy.”

41

His bottom was the most revolting thing Amber had ever seen.

And it was heading straight for her. His bony fingers held his own buttocks wide apart, so that she could see everything as it descended. Steve’s leering face appeared alongside her head, with a handheld camera.

She screwed up her face and begged ‘no’, first in a hushed whisper, then in a loud moan. Long clumps of hairs hung down from the man’s scrotum and anus. His bottom was wrinkled and dark but he’d pulled it apart enough for her to see the hideous state it was in.

To no avail.

He sat down hard, smearing his crevice astride her nose, crushing her nostrils until he blocked her mouth and the light. In seconds, she panicked. She couldn’t breathe. She lost all control of her bladder and spurted out cold water.

Just before she started blacking out, she felt the weight lifting. She gasped. A sliver of sunlight appeared. She heaved in a lungful of oxygen, ignoring the foul smell.

Steve was there, with the camera and a mini-microphone.

“Hi Amber. That looked fun. Would you tell our viewers what that was actually like ?”

She couldn’t speak, gasping further breaths.

“Okay, no comment. Tell you what. Stick that tongue of yours out as far as you can and really give Bill’s crack a nice bath. That way you’ll be able to breathe more easily.”

Amber frowned. Her head was still spinning. What ? She paused.

Too long. His bottom smashed down hard again, obliterating her face. She screamed with embarrassment as she lost control of her bowels. A huge cramp tore through her guts as she was aware of the entire contents of her bottom spurting out.

Again, moments before she lost consciousness, his weight lifted. Steve’s face was there, grinning at her.

“Are you ready to stick that tongue of yours out now and irrigate Bill’s colon ?”

She heaved, nodding, gasping out the word “pl … sss.”

The red recording light on the camera glowed as she stuck out her tongue into the hairy anus just above her face. She gagged, tasting foul, metallic, vegetable. Somehow she controlled her retching.

“That’s it, Amber. Great. Now turn your head slightly to the camera and give us a smile. That’s it. Don’t be camera shy. A snapshot for Rob to keep by his bedside.”

Slowly, she felt his bottom being lowered onto her face another time.

“Oh dear. Bill’s getting pissed. Raise your head. Use your neck muscles to stab that tongue in so deep you can wash his guts. Hurry.”

“Hey !” She heard a different man’s voice exclaim. “Look here. In amongst her shit. It’s a little silver key !”

Sobbing in desperation and humiliation, she managed to lift her neck so she could push her whole nose, lips, tongue between his damp, hairy buttocks.

42

Rebecca sat at her desk watching the couple perform jumping jacks. They were both in their mid-forties but still reasonably fit.

Katherine was an older version of her daughter; honey blonde hair with just a hint of grey, pendulous C-cup tits that rotated from side to side as she jumped, a little heavy about her hips. But the strikingly pretty woman that she’d once been was still quite discernible.

She had passed her ‘best before’ but certainly not her ‘use by’ date.

Ernest looked like he understood the importance of being ernest. He was balding and bookish-looking. It was hard to believe he’d attracted Katherine and sired Kimberley, or even Eric. His pasty flesh bounced as he tried desperately to complete the athletic challenge.

They reminded Rebecca of one of those cliché cowboy movie couples; the good looking, god-fearing pioneer young woman who’d married the dull but worthy, slightly older man.

Now you could imagine the ominous music as the baddies approached !

Eventually they both gave up, one after the other. He had somehow managed 68 star jumps, throwing his arms out and back, while leaping and opening his legs in tandem. His penis flopped to and fro in its metal tube, bouncing against his hairless groin and scrotum.

His wife struggled on to complete another 11, finishing on 79. 

Not enough.

They both stood bent over, wheezing and clutching their stomachs.

Like her daughter, who Rebecca saw from the database had been confiscated by Lara, Katherine had so far escaped any sexual action. The young guards tended not to bother with the 40-plus inmates unless instructed.

She pressed a switch on her desk.

“Look at me.”

First Ernest, then Katherine, twisted their glazed eyes upwards. They looked so pale she thought they might be sick. Ernest had spent two decades sat at a desk in an accountancy firm that had collapsed. His wife had taught in a high school. Science not Physical Education.

“We shall have to work on your fitness.”

The door opened and a huge body filled the entrance. His name was Leroy. He was an older, grey-haired black guard, the kind who appreciated a middle aged white lady. He beamed at Rebecca.

“Yes, M’m.”

In turn, she beamed at the straightening couple.

“Leroy, would you chain up this gentleman for me, please ? I have something to show him.”

“Sure, M’m.”

Ernest’s eyes showed his panic but he put up no resistance. At only 5’8”, he was a whole 13 inches shorter than Leroy. The guard locked his wrists in steel manacles and then tightened the chains, pulling his arms taut towards the ceiling.

“Now, would you show him your penis, please ?”

Ernest’s eyes widened even further as Leroy shucked his pants. At three inches in its steel tube, his dick was a whole six inches shorter than Leroy’s, whose was already erect, stiffening to full hardness.

“Magnificent, huh ?”

Katherine cringed, suddenly realising her inevitable fate.

“No … don’t. Please no …”

Chains rattled with Ernest’s impotent rage as Leroy advanced on his trembling target. Rebecca angled her chair back and kicked her heels up on the desk.

“One man in your entire life, dear ?” she shouted, over the poor woman’s quavering protests. “I mean, really ? You should be honoured that Leroy’s going to broaden your horizons.”

His solitary punch to the solar plexus made Katherine double over, heaving for breath. He manoeuvred her so she was bent over the desk, her face only inches from Rebecca. He slammed an open palm into her shoulder blades and kicked her ankles apart.

Rebecca let her eyes roam from Katherine, to Ernest, to Leroy.

She smiled. And winked.

Leroy nodded his homely black face back at her and drooled a gob of saliva over his thumb. Moments later, he bit down on his protruding lip and crouched to plunge his manhood home.

Katherine’s tan-coloured eyes popped wide as she betrayed her husband on what Rebecca calculated from the data was only 4 days before their 25th Wedding anniversary.

“Noooooh … aaah …naaah …” Her wailing echoed round the room.

Shucks, nearly got to Silver before scratching that itch ! Her husband evidently didn’t like the idea of his missus cucking him with a black stud, bellowing out his futile fury.

“You fiend ! Leave her alone, you … oh darling, I’m so …”

Rebecca pushed a lever, raising the chains and hoisting his feet off the floor, which reduced the metallic clanking, if not his verbal diarrhoea.

“How is she Leroy ?”

The guard’s mouth turned down and he nodded at Rebecca approvingly. “Not bad, M’m. Plenty of gas in this tank.”

She smiled, reaching out to stroke Katherine’s tortured face. She smoothed the distressed wrinkles on her perspiring forehead.

“Shh, my dear. Don’t make such a fuss. Otherwise you won’t have any tears left when something actually quite bad happens.”

43

Rob stood alongside Amber, Naomi and Tony huddled in a line.

Water dripped off their bedraggled hair, faces and bodies. They had been hosed down once again with water, to clean away the remnants of the disgusting enemas and tongue bathing.

Steve walked down the line like an officer inspecting his exhausted troops. He stopped and eyeballed each of them in turn. Rob was last.

“Your wife did well, kiddo. She did a damned good job on Bill’s ass. But you didn’t do so good. All that macho, hetero stuff. Here slaves do as they’re told regardless of sexual preferences, and the sooner you fuckin’ learn that the better.”

His stare was implacable. Rob couldn’t help but nod acknowledgement.

Steve stepped back, addressing them all.

“Meanwhile Tony here, he stuck that tongue of his right up Rufus’s shitter no problem. So I guess Tony doesn’t want to see his darling Naomi fucking dogs any time soon. Unlike Rob here. So I’m awarding another hundred points to you two.”

He pointed at Tony and Naomi. Amber’s shoulders slumped.

“Please …” her frail voice whispered, tearing at his heart.

Rob dry-swallowed as Steve shrugged, smirking at him, then at Amber.

“It’s your husband you need to plead to darling. Not me.”

Rob stood, a gnarled, crook-handled cane shaking in his hand.

Amber was bent over in front of him. Her hands clutched round her ankles and her face stared back up at him between her legs. He gaped at her helpless buttocks stretched tight before him.

“Here’s the deal.” Steve said. His crew were all clustered round watching. Some held cameras, others just smoked and pointed. “You give Amber here ten strokes of that little cane. Real hard ones.”

He pointed at Rob, as if checking he’d understood.

Of course he fucking understood !

“Or, if you don’t fancy doing that. You can hand that cane over to Tony there. But he’s going to give Your missus twenty strokes as hard as he can.”

Steve grinned at the audience.

“And if neither you nor Tony fancies it, then me and the boys here will be very happy to lay a total of forty strokes across her nice juicy butt there. So, hero boy, which is it to be ?”

“I’ll give her ten strokes. Please.”

Steve nodded approvingly. “Okay. Sounds good to me. But if I’m not satisfied that you’ve trashed her ass good when you’ve finished, then me and the boy’s will give her another forty on top. Got that ?”

Rob gripped the cane, grinding his teeth. “Yes … Sir. I understand.”

“Fine. And when I said trashed I meant trashed ! Not thrashed. I want to see her bubble butt rubbished, kid.”

“Yes Sir.”

Steve leaned down to speak into Amber’s ear. “And you keep still and take it, lady. You get up or hop around or whatever, the stroke count starts again, gotcha ? You can make as much racket as you like.” He chuckled towards the crew. “Heck, we like a bit of noise. But don’t fucking move about.”

Rob heard her whimper in reply. “Yes … Sir.”

A cameraman moved in close to record Rob’s face and another inched even closer to Amber’s buttocks. Steve nodded his head.

Rob raised the cane up above his shoulder. He tried to judge just how high he had to go to satisfy them. Steve pointed to the sky.

“High and hard as you can.”

He swivelled his hips until the cane was way above his head, then crashed it down. The outside air rustled with a low whoosh.

“Naaaaaaah …. Aaaaah …” Amber screamed, howling. Her fingers clutched behind her, clawing at her skin. A red welt was growing and changing already, spreading, leaving a darker mark in its place.

What the hell had he done ?

He gawped at them in horror.

Steve just shrugged, an imbecilic grin on his face. “Don’t worry, kid. The bitches always make a fuss about the first one. Hurry up.”

He raised the cane again, gritted his teeth, and swung it, like a bad 4 iron on the golf course. The thwack as it landed was like a gunshot.

Amber screamed again, louder, pleading, hopping from foot to foot.

Rob looked disgustedly at Steve. “I can’t do this.”

“Sure you can. It’ll be much worse for her if Tony there does it.”

He looked through the inverted ‘v’ of Amber’s legs. Her face was crimson, screwed up in an ugly wail, sobbing. But she was clutching her ankles again, trying desperately to be brave.

So he lashed down the third stroke.

44

Brutus sat in a folding director’s chair, watching Rob flaying his young wife’s backside. Her physical cuts and bruises would heal but the mental memories would never fade. It was all part of the process.

He smiled at Tony while Naomi knelt and sucked his cock. Brutus ran his hands through the young wife’s braids as she slurped.

“Are you ready to give Naomi here a nice whipping ? It’s nearly your turn.”

The dark, handsome face nodded grimly. “Yes Sir. I’ll try.”

Brutus waved over at Steve. “Give us a couple of minutes here.”

Steve held up his fingers in an ‘o’ sign to reply okay.

Brutus looked meaningfully down at Naomi. Tony’s gaze followed his.

“Not bad at all. You should be proud. Not too many women know how to give decent head when they start here. Mmm.”

Naomi’s chocolate eyes glanced up.

Brutus chuckled. “Well, at least even if she never sucks your dick again, you know her skill’s not going to go to waste round here.”

Tony scowled. Just a little too obviously.

“You’re not racist are you boy ?”

“Ra … me … no Sir.”

“Good. Because I thought for one moment you were looking disapprovingly at a nice white cock sliding in and out of your hussy’s lips. That sure smacks of racism to me.”

“Er … no Sir. It’s … it’s a lovely sight.”

Brutus nodded, only slightly appeased. “Tell you what. You can go and savage your lady’s behind for the cameras over there, and I’ll save my load for her asshole later.”

45

Kimberley lay on the huge bed. Her head was on the plump pillows, her heels tucked back under her bottom with her knees wide apart.

She gasped helplessly as the Indian woman, Amulya, slid the narrow tip of a feather between her thighs. She didn’t even know what you called it. The mouth-like entrance to her … womb.

Jade was draped to her right, watching, and Lara to her left.

“Ahsss …” she exhaled.

Jade giggled, opening her lips again to suckle Kimberley’s nipple.

Lara’s eyes shone excitedly. Kimberley had never met such a woman. Her face was beautiful but evil. Like a Devil. She was more frightening than the worst stories told about life in hell.

The feather slithered up and down, just inside and just out.

“Tell us again.” Lara cooed. “Why is sex sooooo bad ?”

“It … it is for procreation. In marriage.”

All three of them smiled, quietly tittering. “Is that what your mummy and daddy told you ?”

“Y … yes. Not just them.”

The feather attack shifted. Amulya blew a silent kiss and dragged the tip through Kimberley’s pubic hair down to her bottom. She gasped.

They laughed.

“That’s a big bush of hair they left you with, isn’t it ?” Lara said.

46

Amber bit her lower lip in a wince of agony.

She hung spreadeagled, standing on tiptoe. Her wrists and ankles were fastened wide apart in steel cuffs attached to a wooden frame. Rob was facing her. He was in a wooden pillory, his head and arms poking helplessly through the tight holes.

Brutus, her owner, and Steve, the film director, were examining her bottom. Their rough male fingers admired the raised ridges of welts caused by Rob caning her.

Her own husband, forced to cause her terrible pain. She was no longer crying. Her tear ducts were like exhausted wells. In front of her, Rob was sobbing instead, sniffling helplessly, avoiding looking at her.

Still their awful cameras rolled and microphones recorded.

Steve’s face suddenly appeared in front of hers.

“Do you hate him yet ?”

She frowned, then realised he was asking about Rob. “N … no.”

Steve nodded approvingly. “Good girl. But you must despise him a little. After all, it was him who got you into this mess.” He casually stroked Amber’s naked breast. “If he’d held down a job, you wouldn’t be a slave.”

It was a thought she’d already had, but not dared to go there. So his words hit home. She shut her eyes.

His hand slid down over her abdomen to between her legs.

“When a line of men are fucking this cunt, I want you to think about what life would be like as a free woman again. Maybe we can do a deal.”

Amber gasped as Brutus gently slapped her tender buttocks. He appeared, standing alongside Steve.

“It’s true.” He said. “There’s a market for young wives. Not sex slaves, proper wives. We could sell you to somebody, but you would have to love him. Properly. Sure, you’d never see young Rob again and your new husband wouldn’t be a prime hunk, but he wouldn’t be a useless fucking slave either !”

Both men were playing with her breasts now, fluffing her nipples.

She couldn’t help looking from their faces down to Rob’s.

“N … no.” she gently shook her head.

Brutus shrugged. “Okay. But be quick. Once a female slave has been gang raped a couple of times, there are few buyers interested. And once she’s been put to the doggies, there’s no way back.”

47

“Aaouuch …”

Kimberley grimaced as Jade plucked another tweezer-full of pubic hair from her mound. One side of her triangle was almost bald.

“Shh …” Lara whispered, licking Kimberley’s ear. “Be brave. We hate hairy bushes round here, don’t we girls ?”

They pouted. Amulya leaned down with her tweezers and wound hairs round the prongs like pasta into a fork.

“Please …”

“Tell me more about your darling family. They were arrested too, right ?”

Kimberley nodded, scowling with apprehension as Amulya tore out another clump.

“Ngha … aah. Y … yes.”

“And you’re sure that mummy and daddy only fucked to make babies ?”

“Y … yes, th … that’s what we believe in.”

“Then mummy must be in real need of a good fuck.”

Kimberley looked at her in shock. How could a woman say such a thing about another ? These people were depraved perverts. All of them.

And this Lara devil above all.

48

Amber howled astride the wooden horse.

It was a simple plank sharpened to a splintery point, wedged up between her anus, coccyx and perineum. Her labia were draped either side of the wood like cleft fruit.

Brutus smiled, one eye on her, and one on Rob. He watched her husband’s tongue snaking out, licking the tip of the gay cameraman’s erection.

It always touched him how far each spouse would go to aid the other.

Amber still hung spreadeagled in cuffs, feet off the ground, forced to take her own weight straddling the horse. He walked up to her and teased her nipples.

“Stick those tits out for me, dear.”

She stared at him wide-eyed, saliva flecking her lips. Slowly she arched her back, pushing her chest out.

“Look at your darling husband sucking cock. Isn’t he good ?”

She rolled her eyes, unable to speak.

“I’m going to beat your titties now.” He said. “With these stinging nettles. You’re going to hum me a nice little tune.” He chuckled. “While your husband hums one of his own.”

Rob’s mouth was sucking noisily now, slurping on the thick erection. But the pillory prevented him from moving his neck or head much, limiting his momentum. The cameraman seemed in no rush to shoot his wad.

Brutus teased the stinging flogger under the globes of Amber’s C-cup hooters. There were nine individual nettles lashed together at one end to create a handle. The feathery green fronds dripped venomously.

She hissed, inching her torso as far away as she could.

He raised the cat-o-nine-nettles above his shoulder and then thwacked it down.

“Naah …” she pleaded, before it turned into a wail. “ … aaaooch !”

He smiled at the red splodge that immediately emerged on her tits.

“Hum me a tune. How about Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony ?”

She stared at him frantically.

He raised the nettles again and slammed them home, watching with satisfaction as her scarlet flesh bounced.

“Duh … du… du …duuh.” She whimpered.

“Better than that dear.”

He lashed again. Her breasts were already mottling nicely as the formic acid surged into her bloodstream. The one metre-long nettles were from a sub-species specially grown by the Brute Corporation.

“Duh, duh, duh, duuuuhmmm.” She hummed, louder.

Brutus looked round amused. The cameraman had removed his dick and was jacking himself off, smacking his helmet against Rob’s eyelids.

“Keep humming dear.”

Her eyes were wide, flipping from her poor husband’s face, to the nettles, to Brutus. She rasped out a few more bars of staccato humming.

“Get your fucking mouth open.” The cameraman snarled.

Brutus smiled at Rob’s blinking eyes as he forced his jaws wide apart. There was a metallic chattering as a stills camera took a string of photos. He turned back to Amber.

“Look. Aah. Don’t pearls suit your husband ?”

She slowly nodded, biting her quivering lower lip.

He raised the nettles again, shrugging.

“Come on now. Again. Duh … duh …”

He paused expectantly.

She finished the musical line weakly. “ … duh … duuuuh.”

He whupped her again, harder, concentrating on the nearside tit this time.

He felt his stomach growl.

Oh well, a few more strokes and then it would be time for lunch.

49

Rebecca checked one last time on the suspended couple.

She wanted to achieve just the right impact.

Ernest still hung from chains. She’d lowered them so he could just touch the floor with the tips of her bare feet and take a little of the strain from his agonised arms and shoulders.

Katherine now hung alongside her husband. Her wrists were in leather loops so she could be kept fully off the floor, her arms and feet held apart by spreader bars. A rich vein of glutinous semen oozed from her freshly depilated labia, glistening down the insides of her parted thighs.

The atmosphere had changed since Leroy departed happily tucking himself back into his pants. He’d helped Rebecca manoeuvre the traumatised woman into her bonds in total silence, except for her endless snivelling. No words were spoken or necessary. Ernest was sullen but silent, due to Rebecca’s threat to summon a dozen more Leroys to prolong the fun.

She took a final glance and then opened her office door.

“Ah. Welcome !”

They were milling around in the hall. Two escorting guards snapped to attention. The sixteen assorted teenagers looked at her expectantly.

“Er … hi.” One of the boys said. Rebecca detected the confidence of a ringleader. He looked a sporty type, whereas most of them appeared more typical acne-ridden, high school kids. The girls were a mixed bunch too; some pretty and quite mature, others still in the ugly duckling phase.

“Come in, please.”

The initial hush when they saw the suspended duo, turned to gasps when they realised they were reunited with their Science teacher. Mrs Randall and her husband were equally shocked and a lot more vocal.

“No !” Katherine screamed. “Oh no, out ! Get them out !”

Rebecca smiled reassuringly at her 17-18 year old guests as they hesitantly filed in.

“It’s quite alright kids. She just gets a little emotional about reunions !”

By now, most of the class had got over their initial disbelief and into the next phase; nervousness, amusement or excitement. Rebecca could almost smell the hormones. The girls seemed every bit as curious as the boys. A few looked hesitant, glancing around wide-eyed.

“Wow !”

“Fuck.”

“Mrs Randall ?”

“Shit, will you look at that !”

“Cool.”

“Er … I mean, is this okay ?”

Most started sniggering, pointing, egging each other on.

“Hey man, look at her puss !”

“It’s streaming out of her.”

“Guys, do you think we should be doing this ?”

“Yeah ! Look, she’s been fucking. Imagine, frigid old Mrs Randall fucking.”

“And judging from all that baby gravy, it doesn’t look like it was with Mr Randall.”

Louder laughter, even a couple of high fives. Slowly the uncertain few were gaining confidence, joining the majority, overcoming any doubts.

Rebecca pushed forward. The throng parted to let her through.

“Yes, everybody. It’s Mrs Randall. Your Science teacher who left you in the lurch recently, without completing this term’s syllabus.”

“That’s okay.”

It was the ringleader. He had a square jaw and close cropped hair. He was 18 years old and ready to get out into the world.

“The syllabus was fucking boring.” A girl said. “Chemistry and physics.”

Rebecca smiled at them. “How about biology ?”

“Duh. No more studying worms for me.”

“I don’t want any more lessons.”

“Hold on. Speak for yourself.”

“How about we do some anatomy !”

“Quiet, let the lady speak.”

Rebecca raised her hands.

“Hold on ! Ssh !” she looked at them all in turn, studying their faces, their eyes. She liked what she saw. The frantic mood of a mob was building.

“This is an extraordinarily special class that Mrs Randall has volunteered to give you today. On the female body. And how it reacts. Now, I know you’re all adults and you probably know all that birds and bees stuff already.”

They laughed, groaning.

“Er … duh. Sure we do.”

“But I suspect that most of you won’t yet know much about a female slave’s body. And it how responds to the most interesting treatments.”

There was a hushed stillness. They gawped. A few frowned, waiting to check out which way the vibe swung. Then one by one all sixteen tense faces dissolved into lip-licking grins.

The ringleader was the catalyst. He caught Rebecca’s wink. She watched his hand reach up and, very calmly, cup Katherine’s left breast.

“Take your hand off me young man !”

There was a moment of hush. Rebecca smiled at the woman’s ridiculously indignant expression. The boy’s hand didn’t move, stayed where it was. Then he sniggered and tightened his grip.

The crowd watched mesmerised as his fingers sunk deep into her fleshy boob.

A hum of excited comments and nervous hilarity grew as they swarmed around her naked body. Dozens of hands reached out and touched.

The crescendo rose and eventually drowned out the helpless whimpers and protests of Katherine Randall.

50

Of course, the mistreatment served a purpose.

These four would remember today for the rest of their sorry lives. It wasn’t just gratuitous violence. It would make them better slaves. It gave them a little taster of how bad things could get if they fell even slightly below the Corporation’s exacting standards.

Brutus threw his lunch bones to the cluster of hounds lazing in the sunshine; Luath, Rex, Fernando, Trojan, Bull, Stud and Knotty barked and snapped. Meanwhile Steve held out his empty plate for Hamlet, the older of two Great Danes, to lick.

Rob, Tony, Amber and Naomi stood out in the hot sun watching. They wobbled occasionally, trying to say upright to attention in the heat. The two white bodies were red with sunburn and all four were battered, bruised and exhausted.

Brutus wiped his mouth with a napkin and belched appreciatively. He curled his finger at Naomi and beckoned her over. She was a sorry sight compared with 24 hours earlier. Her face was unharmed but below the neck was another story; her brown breasts were criss-crossed with crop lines, her tummy and mound dark red from a paddling. A thin splinter of wood was sticking out from one of her labial lips.

He twiddled his finger and she rotated.

Her buttocks were striped raw from the savage caning her own husband had given her. She’d need to visit Doctor Thorne to prevent infection.

But before that it was time she hosted her first gangbang.

51

After the initial laying on of hands, each teenager took it in turn to examine Katherine’s helplessly dangling body. Extracting revenge for every imagined slight, homework assignment or strict dressing down their middle-aged teacher had given them.

The lads typically focused on her female parts; her breasts, nipples, bare mound and protruding labia. Girls giggled and pointed out the clitoris to educate the less experienced geeks. They peeled open her sodden folds and peered inside, before pushing fingers, thumbs and then their palms within. Meanwhile, others walked round the back and thumbed apart her buttocks, discussing the dark starburst of her anus, pushing their fingernails into the wrinkled orifice.

Some girls took the opportunity to brush up on male anatomy by surveying Ernest Randall’s stretched, middle-aged nakedness. They mocked his body in comparison with their fit classmates and boyfriends. There were zits on the older man’s bottom and they found it hilarious to tease their friends suffering from acne that they had faces like old Mr Randall’s ass !

Rebecca stood back and watched as the girls spent time mocking Katherine’s mature body. Although in good shape for her age, the inevitable slackening process had begun, and everybody knew that any comparisons with the teenage girls were cruel and unfair.

She smiled internally while they ridiculed any hint of cellulite, prodded Katherine’s pleasingly upholstered butt, pinched her thickened thighs and disdainfully poked her tummy with its slight stretch marks and telltale contours of childbirth. Rebecca couldn’t help feeling relieved it wasn’t her own maternal body hanging there. Nothing was spared their derision.

But they saved their worst for Katherine’s womanly charms; sneering at her somewhat pendulous breasts, some younger girls even going so far as mooing. Others taunted their former teacher about how the heavy bags of flesh dangled naked and free, as if inviting abuse, and they gave them the occasional admonishing slap. Her dark and prominent nipples became a special target for their jeers and taunts; coming in for a generous dose of twists, pinches and pulls. This treatment included the occasional lift and drop that caused the breast to jiggle like a bowl of jelly.

A hot brunette, clearly sexually active herself, seemed obsessed with insulting Katherine’s protruding vaginal lips, speculating on how they became so loose and capacious. It was a particularly cruel jibe, Rebecca knew, given Katherine’s lifetime of virtual abstinence and, to be fair, the fact she actually looked some ten years younger than she was.

The other students joined in and their conversation turned to such a body’s actual usefulness to anybody as a sex slave.

Rebecca finally joined the debate.

“Do you know the definition of slavery, girls ?”

They looked at her. One who was chewing gum ventured a guess.

“Like, er … doing stuff you don’t want to ?”

Rebecca grinned, shaking her head.

“Property. A slave is a chattel. Meaning an owner no more thinks about not using a slave whenever, or however, she or he is needed, any more than they would consider not using an umbrella if it’s raining. You don’t think, oh dear, sad umbrella, you’ll get wet, or tired, or broken. Do you ?”

The girls laughed. The boys who were listening did too.

“Nah.”

Rebecca had already noticed a sharply pretty brunette who seemed to be the ringleader’s girlfriend. She was even more into the scene than the others.

The girl turned and tugged Katherine’s nipple. “Poor fucked up umbrella.”

That produced an even bigger round of raucous laughter.

Rebecca waited until they’d all hushed, then made them an offer.

“So, let’s all imagine that it’s pissing with rain !”

52

Naomi lay on an air mattress in the sunshine.

It resembled an oversized swimming pool toy, a big pink bouncy cushion pumped up for outdoor play or tanning. Her wrists were tied to stakes in the grass, but otherwise she was free to jiggle her hips and wrap her legs round her admirers.

The first group were the hairy film crew, taking their turns before her performance turned too sloppy. They gathered round to egg each other on, jeering in time to the rhythmic slap-slap-slap of flesh on flesh.

“Aah. Come on little lady.” One man said, stroking her face and kissing her, while another used the spring in the air mattress to hump up and down frantically. “You can do better than this. Now, stop crying and start fucking us.”

Between sobs, the black girl did seem to be trying to play her part. One by one, the men unloaded inside her. Most were brief, taking a maximum of a couple of minutes, having teased themselves manually to near-orgasms before they took their turns. She was a cum-bag today, nothing more. They knew there would be other days, other opportunities, for them to take a more casual approach to sex with Naomi.

After the first half dozen had noisily spewed their semen, somebody produced a lemon-soaked rag to wipe away the excess from her thighs. The guys had started complaining about the lack of friction to get themselves off.

“May I start with you, Tony.” Steve said, leaning over and holding his microphone towards her suffering husband. Brutus winked at the film director-cum-interviewer, performing his best talk-show-host act.

“How do you feel watching this ? You must be a proud man.”

Tony dry-swallowed. “Er …” He glanced at Brutus and wiped a grimy hand across his face. He shook his head. “Please.” The whites of his eyes were wide open. “Please don’t do this. I beg of you. No more.”

Steve gave him a conciliatory smirk, pointing at Naomi.

“Oh, come on, listen, look. She’s getting into it. You should be pleased for her. And for yourself, as her proud husband. I bet you really want to thank your new owner, here, for what he’s done for you both.”

He leaned past Tony, directing the microphone at Brutus.

“And Mr. Brutus, please. Can you tell her husband and the viewers what plans you have for this lovely couple ?”

Brutus patted Tony on the shoulder. “Sure.” He exhaled a thick wreath of cigar smoke.

53

Katherine wailed, a drawn-out, gut wrenching sob.

Another of her female pupils stepped up and slapped her face with an open palm, making Katherine’s head sing. She felt the hot sting of redness on her cheek but it was shame, every bit as much as pain.

A cheer went up.

The worst part was their cheering.

Before she could compose herself, she groaned hoarsely as she felt yet another sear across her buttocks. Behind her, Walton, an unpleasant boy she’d often had cause to scold, was using a stainless steel 12-inch ruler to thrash her with. She heard the shrill thwack in spite of her own scream and her jeering audience. 

She twisted her head to avoid another slap. Through her blurred vision she caught sight of her husband. Ernest was hanging helpless, while a gaggle of girls mocked and tormented his naked body. His glazed eyes rested on hers for the briefest, saddest moment, before he screwed them tight in pain. A girl had lifted her knee into his testicles.

Katherine’s head spun and spittle flew as another slap landed without warning. Then somebody was pulling her hair, twisting her head round this way and that.

“Nooooooo …” she managed to scream.

There was only their unbearable adolescent, taunting mirth in response.

She winced as sharp nails scratched her and she felt fingers clawing at her hips. Strong male hands held her knees apart. A thumb poked inside her bottom and she jerked upwards to avoid it.

At the same moment, a blaze of fire scorched her private part. She felt weak, but realised that the ruler had been lashed across her hairless mound and into her very womanhood. Blissfully, darkness descended.

But she regained consciousness seconds later as a torrent of freezing water soaked her face, taking her breath away.

She gasped and let out the most lung-bursting plea she could.

“Pleeeeeeeassssse … !”

She suddenly realised there was silence. They’d ceased. She forced her soaking eyes open and blinked at their wild, jubilant faces. She saw the Trainer woman, Rebecca, step forward, raising a hand.

She grinned at Katherine, then turned to the teenage pack.

“Let’s all take a short break. Tea anyone ?”

54

Lara sipped her mint tea, watching Jade and Amulya shaving away the last tufts of Kimberley’s pubes. She’d have the follicles electrically destroyed in a few days, if this one passed.

She studied the beautiful oriental, Indian and white girls in turn. As usual, it would be decision time soon. There were four of them once again, and her bed was only big enough for three.

The tea was hot and sweet. She felt it glowing inside her, sliding through her system. She had only three toilets too !

Kimberley’s eyes met hers. Lara winked.

Such a sweet girl.

She sidled over and put her cup and saucer down. Jade and Amulya parted as Lara reached out and ran her nails sensuously over Kimberley’s belly, down to her dry cunt lips.

“Would you like to see your mummy again soon ?”

Kimberley’s lips parted. She nodded, mouth agape. “Yes, pl … ease.”

Lara found her clit, easing back the hood. She grinned.

“Well be a good girl and we’ll see what can be done

55

Next came Rape Regiment 1.

The oldest and noblest rape squad in the Brute Corporation’s history, the team had been established back in 2007 out of a long list of applicants; released convicts, asylum dwellers, psychopaths and misfits, the bad and the ugly.

Not a single one of the ten squad members stood less than 6’ 3” in his bare feet. Specially selected, not a single member possessed an endowment of less than 8 thick inches when erect.

They arrived in their canvas fatigues, sporting their ‘thicker, harder, longer’ motto emblazoned up the side of their military shirts. They were heavily armed with machetes, truncheons and pistols.

One by one, the thugs ripped into Naomi.

After a brisk round one, they double-teamed her; some cunt and ass, others spit-roasting her.

Next, they triple-teamed her; ravaging all three of her flopping, gaping orifices at once. Black and pink flesh oozed thick white fluid.

As the final trio finished their second shift, Tony was dragged alongside the writhing bodies. A huge, rape squad member who’d already taken his turn produced a clipboard, document and pen.

“Sign here.” He joked gruffly, proffering the pen to Tony. “It’s a full divorce on the grounds extreme infidelity. Don’t worry mate. Your friends won’t think badly of you.”

Tony blinked at him through tears, glanced down at Naomi, and then – without warning – lost it.

Watching the action, Brutus was intrigued that, after so many hours of reluctant but restrained obedience, the silly lad suddenly misplaced all his self control and swung his fist at the highly trained rapist. His blow connected solidly, causing a surprised grunt.

Tony roared and swiped again. But this time, with a neat sidestep, the 6’ 6” brute dodged the blow and nonchalantly stepped back. Unperturbed, he glanced across for a signal.

It was Chairman Mao who reputedly said; ‘kill one, frighten ten thousand’.

Brutus lifted his thumb like a Roman Emperor. An image of his son’s face flickered inside his mind. As BJ would have said, it was a waste but, heck, an example was occasionally necessary.

He gradually rotated his thumb down.

The Browning HP pistol appeared in the brute’s hand as if by magic. The noise made by the first 9mm Parabellum was shocking, as Tony’s body ricocheted backwards. An arc of red splattered across Naomi’s face and across the backs of her trio of admirers. The second blast lasted longer, echoing in the sunshine, while birds squawked out of nearby trees.

The men fucking her didn’t even break stride. Naomi screamed as her husband’s naked body slowly toppled over, and began twitching next to her on the ground.

END OF PART THREE

COMING DECEMBER – PART FOUR

‘FOR BETTER FOR WORSE’