After the Pestilence

AFTER THE PESTILENCE

PART FOUR

by velvetglove

Characters

 

The Owners, etc.

Stella (40), Slave Owner and Joint Head of the Brute Corporation.

Brutus (50), married to Stella, Joint Head of the Brute Corporation.

Lara (27), Local Government Bureaucrat, Stella's neice.

Brutus Junior (25), Stepson of Brutus, works for Brute Corporation.

‘Rhino' (51), visitor from overseas, Head of the Rhino Company.

Doctor Sadie Thorne (48), Doctor and Surgeon of the Brute Corporation.

The Featured Slaves

jane (28), purchased by Stella at the start of part one. pretty, blue-eyed blonde. Currently working her first day in the main brothel.

jim (31), husband of jane. brown hair and eyes, moderate build, was a trained accountant. Currently watching jane's first day.

gemma (22), pretty but prim, brunette, spectacles, large breasts, narrow waist. Currently the focus of Lara's attentions.

rebecca (39), purchased 7 months ago, now a ‘vide couilles' (low grade brothel slave) but resilient. Still a lovely looking older woman, black hair, nice face, full lips, curvy figure.

Other Slaves

‘lavatory' (25), real name lavinia, beautiful brunette, a favourite but currently the subject of negotiations between rhino and Brutus.

‘bidet' (26), husband of lavatory/lavinia.

susannah (32), shaved brunette stubble on head, dark sunken eyes, underweight, small breasted, currently under sentence to punishment.

joelle (35), French, chic, dark-haired, pregnant ‘wife' of Brutus Junior.

The evans family: mr & mrs (both 48), neil (25), tammy (23), currently housed in brutus junior's private dungeon.

‘one' (25), male slave, current favourite of Stella.

michele (23), unemployed actress, friend of gemma, strawberry blonde, pale blue eyes, freckles, trim figure, great butt and legs.

Brief Synopsis

Following the Great Pestilence of 2006 and the subsequent Depression, when global Stock, Property and Commodity Markets crashed, the World's largest Economies and Continents have each undergone different Revolutions. Northern Europe – comprising the Scandinavian countries, much of Germany, the northern half of France, the Benelux Region, and all of Great Britain – has formed the ‘Northern Alliance', ruled over by unelected bureaucrats. Under the ‘Economic Recovery Act' passed by the bureaucrats on January 1 st 2008, human rights were repealed and Slavery was reintroduced throughout the Northern Alliance. Severe punishments were introduced for all crimes, especially stealing, and the penalty for bankruptcy was Slavery for life. As Parts One to Three have already demonstrated, the new system flourished best in the part of the Northern Alliance that used to be the country of England.

The Great American Alliance

Meanwhile, by the Fall (Autumn) of 2008, the North American Continent had split into two main alliances; the region that had formerly been the North Eastern USA and Eastern Canada had formed the independent country of Puritania. The remaining huge swathe that had been all of South and Western USA, Western Canada and Alaska, had formed the Great American Alliance.

Puritania was the intellectual haven of the ‘Old World' (for which read pre-Pestilence western values). Slavery was banned and an elected democratic government was in power. Unfortunately, the economy – based on sharing an ever-diminishing cake so-called ‘fairly' – was crumbling. Meanwhile, the Great American Alliance, headquartered in the South, had embraced slavery, with mutterings of ‘we were right all along'. But this time there was no racial divide. There were Masters, Mistresses and slaves of every shade and ethnicity. Like the Northern Alliance in Europe, the land was ruled over by unelected bureaucrats.

But whereas Europe had repealed human rights and introduced abject slavery, the Americans still protected their own slaves with a limited charter of basic privileges, including the liberty not to be used sexually against their will, and the right not to be used in medical and drug research. It was a contentious decision, sparking marches and even riots, but the ruling bureaucrats stuck to their guns. However, as a compromise, they later allowed free trade of ‘non-American slaves' into and out of the territory. As a result, non-American slaves (primarily of European and some of Asian birth), who were not protected by the Charter, were increasingly being purchased and imported into the Great American Alliance. The European bureaucrats retaliated by disallowing Americans from buying slaves at their Auctions. However, a secondary market in second hand slaves had begun, guaranteeing large profits for the European traders. And, naturally, the Brutus Corporation was at the forefront of this new development.

*** *** ***

“I'm intrigued,” said Brutus, “what exactly did you see in her ?”

Both faces cringed with shame, the husband stammering.

“I … I … er … every … thing … Sir.”

Brutus continued to stare up and down at her barely clothed body with contempt. This couple had just arrived. They were Stella's other purchase from the day before. She had bought Jim and Jane and decided to ride them back in the trap, while arranging for the Auction House to deliver this other Lot overnight. Stella had paid just 3,250 Credits for the pair. The State's Reserve price as nobody else had bid. He was a 44 year old ex-Judge and, Camilla, his 40 year old ex-lawyer wife. Nobody needed relics from the old legal system any more. Their money had finally run out and the big house, useless possessions, were all gone. Their professional skills unwanted.

Actually, truth be known, thought Brutus, the bitch was damned good looking. She was exactly Stella's age, with neat, short blonde hair, bright blue eyes, one of those lean ‘blue-blood' faces, with just a few lines around the eyes. Hers was the type of face you used to see before the Pestilence in glossy Society magazines attending charity fund raising gala balls. She was a good 8, maybe a low 9, but the standards at the Corporation were now incredibly high. They only bought 9s and 10s. He guessed Stella just couldn't resist the opportunity of taking down these pillars of old society. And, as far as Brutus was concerned, the bitch certainly had a few miles hard driving left in her chassis.

“Remove your wife's top.” He said, matter-of-factly.

The Judge's lip quivered. He stared dumbfounded at Brutus. He was young looking for his status and age. Smart grey flecked hair, chiselled features, firm jaw. Must have cut a dash in the Courtroom.

Brutus simply leaned forward and slapped him. Hard.

The man recoiled, clutching his flushing cheek.

“That will be five.” Brutus announced.

His victim fingered his jaw from side to side in shame and confusion.

“Ten.” Said Brutus, resting his own chin on his tented fingers. “If you don't hurry, your wife's arse is going to be incredibly sore.” He shrugged, to show it meant nothing to him.

The woman had the sharper brain. “Take it off.” She murmured to her husband.

“Fifteen.” Brutus explained. “That means fifteen lashes of the crop on her bare bottom just for starters.”

Hurriedly the man tore at his wife's cotton shift, lifting and ripping it off. Her tits were a surprise, out of proportion with her head and face. Large, round and full, barely drooping yet, with just a few slight stretch marks at the sides. Not at all bad for 3,250 Credits all in ! Brutus felt his cock stir. But he had a meeting shortly. So he stared at them unimpressed.

“And her pants.”

This time the Judge was quick to lower and remove her grimy cotton track pants. She was in good shape. Her pubic hair was a light shade of brown, neatly trimmed into a triangle.

“Now you,” he said to her, “undress your husband. Quickly !”

He was in pretty good shape. He had clearly lost weight from a lack of big legal lunches, age had slightly softened his stomach and biceps, and his dick was shrunken with fear, but overall he was not an awful sight naked. The woman was worth the 3,250 Credits on her own and Brutus was sure they could find some productive use for the man. In the meantime, he would use him as an office slave to get his filing up to date.

“Stand behind your wife.” Brutus ordered, making clear he would brook no dissent. “And lift up her melons. Present them to me like fruit.”

Slowly, eyes watering with tears, the ex-Judge took up position and cupped his 40 year old wife's breasts. He offered them to Brutus while she blinked and blushed with mortification.

Brutus simply looked.

“Tell me they are now mine, to do with as I please.”

The man paused. Too long.

“Twenty.” Sighed Brutus, disinterestedly.

“Pl … please … Sir … they are n … now yours to d … do with as you please.”

Brutus smiled. “In which case, the twenty strokes planned for her arse will now be delivered onto those tits. As any more earned will be.”

They gawped at him, mouths open like fish, but stayed silent.

“Now, reach down and pull open your wife's cunt flaps. Wide.”

Without hesitation, the man slid his trembling hands down his wife's body and reached into her pubic hair, spreading her labia wide apart.

Brutus glanced at the red gash and then stared into her blue eyes.

“And tell me that is now mine as well, to do with as I please.”

“Please Sir, it is now yours … to do with as you pl … please.”

Brutus leered and picked up a cigar, carefully cutting off the tip and lighting it. He left them standing, like a living sculpture of misery.

He eventually spoke to the wife. “You. Camilla isn't it ?”

She almost jumped out of her pompous skin. “Y … yes … Sir.”

“Why have you no children ?”

Camilla frowned. “Er … we both had professional j … jobs, Sir.”

“Is that the only reason ?” Brutus let his gaze linger on her fine features.

“N … no, Sir. Also, his … my husband's sp … sperm … count is low, Sir.”

Brutus nodded, suddenly sympathetically.

“And you ? Were you tested ?”

She seemed to take comfort in Brutus's apparent change of attitude.

“Yes, Sir. They say I am … er … fine, Sir.”

Brutus exhaled a thick cloud of grey cigar smoke into her face.

“Well, it's not too late, darling. We must have you mounted soon. By men with … higher sperm counts than your ex-husband. We can't let your excellent, posh genes go to waste, must we ? With a bit of luck we might yet find good men to sire one, two, maybe even three kids out of this fine breeding vessel before you're too old.”

He ran his finger down from her cleavage to her bush. “After I've sampled you for myself of course.”

They had frozen. She coughed in the cloud of cigar smoke. He chuckled, his hand touching her husband's hand as he nonchalantly inserted two digits into her dry orifice.

“Who knows ? We may get the opportunity to breed you with some old acquaintances, maybe men who your husband sentenced to prison in the past, or even people who you prosecuted in the old days. We often find that an online advert with your photos and details can unearth some interesting lowlifes to donate their seed to repopulating the planet !”

“No ! Oh … n … no … pleeeease.” They both shrieked together.

Brutus made a baby face. “Ah, diddums. We'll arrange a party for your next fertile period.” He smiled kindly at their pleading expressions for a few moments then his expression and tone hardened.

“Now, I'll let you think awhile about those twenty lashes on those fine tits.”

He chomped his cigar in his mouth and mockingly banged his letter opener onto his desk like a judge with a gavel. “Sentence is suspended until later today. Meantime, court is adjourned.”

*** *** ***

The Great American Alliance now had a population of around a fifth of what it was before the Pestilence. Huge tracts of once occupied land in the north, west and south had since returned to forest, scrub and desert. Great old cities were empty, dilapidated ruins. There was still no major industry but, gradually, the agrarian-based economy was regenerating. Meanwhile, medical and pharmaceutical research into population growth was at the forefront of economic development. There was pent up global demand for successful drugs, even unproven ones, as every continent attempted to repopulate its barren lands. Unfortunately, with American slaves protected from involuntarily contributing to the new product tests, progress was not as fast as it might have been. The drug companies were amongst the first to see the new research opportunities afforded by the unprotected non-American slaves. One company, with a Rhinoceros head and horn as its logo, was at the forefront of this development.

*** *** ***

Stella sat around a circular table in the library with Brutus and their American guest. Laid out on the walnut and leather surface was an array of open cardboard boxes with different labels, each containing different coloured tablets or small bottles, spread out like a Summer picnic.

The man called Rhino threw his hands out as if he was a conjuror showing off a successful trick and grinned at them.

“There they are, all the latest drugs. The best my country has to offer at this moment in time. Momma's, Mop's, Droopies, Dumpties, Fixers, Evil Eyes, you name it, we've got it.”

Stella leant forward, eyes shining. They could make a fortune. Not only that, they could have fun with them too !

“Take us through them, please. What did you say these pink ones were called, Momma's ?”

“Sure. M-O-M-M-A s. That's Multiple Offspring, Man-Made Additives. Slip a chick one of these a day and when she conceives we're talking triplets minimum, usually quads, quins, even sixes.” He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, don't know the Latin for sixes. Sextuppies or something, I think.”

Stella picked up one of the round pink pills. “Mommas, eh ?”

“Yeah. Neat name. Multiple offspring. Not sure exactly how they work. They kind of fool a woman's body. Main thing is, you can produce babies much faster than relying on the natural order of things. Doesn't do jack shit for the woman's body though, so you need to be sure that she's primarily a breeder and not much else.”

“Side effects ?” Brutus asked.

Rhino shrugged. “Nothing we know for sure. Of course, better research will help. That's where the slaves I'm buying off you can help.”

Stella picked up the next pill, a spongy oblong capsule with liquid inside.

“And this ?”

Rhino chuckled. “This is my fave. The Mop. We were working on a male equivalent of the Momma. Ended up with this as a by-product ! The Massive Orgasm Potion. Mops, for short. Doesn't do shit for better sperm production but hugely increases the semen fluid the sperm swim in. Which can do a lot for a guy's ego ! Normal male ejaculation is about a spoonful, right ?”

Stella laughed. “Speak for yourself Rhino. Brutus is more a teaspoonful.”

Brutus playfully punched his wife on the shoulder. “Watch it.”

Rhino ploughed on, excitedly. “Take one of these babies a coupla hours before, and your next orgasm will be maybe ten to twenty times the quantity. I mean, we're talking at least a wine glass full. More. You should see a chick blowing you when you've taken a Mop. She needs a mop to clean herself up after you've come !”

Stella's eyes gleamed.

“Side effects ?” Brutus asked again, more concerned this time.

“We're ninety nine point nine percent sure, none at all. But to be on the safe side, we recommend a maximum of one a day. Personally I don't even use them that much. More of a treat when I do !”

“And these ?” Stella asked.

Over the next ten minutes, he showed them others. Droopies had the opposite effect to a Mop. One large tablet was taken weekly. It ensured that any male was completely incapable of getting an erection for 7 days, hence the name. In Rhino's view, they would render belts a thing of the past. Stella wasn't so sure. The chastity tubes still had their advantages but Droopies would surely have a role to play. Rhino reassured her that Droopies did not diminish the sex drive. On the contrary they actually boosted it, which made it all the more frustrating for the impotent.

Dumpties were really just a nasty toy of no medical use whatsoever. They caused irreversible baldness. Just one Dumpty tablet and, over a period of seven days, a person's hair fell out and thinned, giving them just enough time to suffer as they watched it all fall out, until they were completely bald. They had been banned in the Great American Alliance so Rhino was selling them off cheap.

Fixers were the ‘date rape' drug of 2008. One tablet induced total paralysis for a period of around two hours, ranging from 100 to 140 minutes depending upon the taker's size and resistance. The internal organs all stayed working perfectly but externally, apart from eye movement and vision, the person was helpless. They could see, hear, smell and taste but could do nothing about whatever was going on. The phrase “to fix somebody” had taken on a whole new dimension.

Evil Eye drops came in a small glass bottle. On drop taken orally on the tongue induced temporary blindness, deafness and muteness. A person could literally neither “see, hear or speak no evil”, hence the name. Of course, a person in that state was quite likely to have evil inflicted upon them, which they could still feel and try to resist, as best they could.

Goofies were another nasty toy. They caused movement of the teeth in the jaw bone. People on a course of goofies would soon see their perfect smiles turn crooked, as once straight teeth started shooting off in different directions. The process wasn't irreversible but it required months of orthodontic treatment and metal braces to straighten them again.

Finally, Zitz, was a clear cream in a bottle that caused the most terrible acne wherever it was applied. It could be used on the victim's face, body, genitals, or everywhere at once. It produced itchy red pimples as big as dimes, with large yellow, pointed pus heads on each spot, the size and shape of pencil heads. Each spot built slowly over two days, then caused intense irritation and unsightliness for another three days, before eventually exploding messily. However, if a person even touched a pus head during the five days to relieve the itching, causing it to weep prematurely, within a few hours another three to five spots would return in its place. These ‘second generation pustules' were twice the size of the originals, like great bubonic boils, green and oozing, and they each lasted for ten days.

There were other experimental products and, frankly, over-the-top drugs, which did not appeal, even to Stella. She studied the laminated price list that Rhino had given to her.

“There's discounts for large orders.” He said. “Good discounts.”

She smiled. Negotiation was Stella's game and forte. Rhino had already chosen six female slaves to take with him back to his country. Her books showed she had paid a total 63,500 Credits for them. But he had already offered her 500,000. And, while he was pretending they were all for research purposes, she could tell he was determined to have Brutus's Lavinia as his personal slave. She held all the aces.

They drank, smoked, laughed and haggled and, in the end, everybody left the table happy. The Rhino got his six slaves. The Brutus Corporation got twelve full cardboard boxes of pharmaceuticals, an exclusive distributorship, a steady supplier, and still the equivalent of over 400,000 in international Credits for the balance on the slaves. Her backers would be very happy. There were huge profits to be made.

Best of all, she could reinvest the four hundred thousand in new slaves, and with that kind of Credit, she could outbid anybody for the very best, and buy in increased quantities. It was time to extend the Compound.

*** *** ***

“Hi, folks ! And welcome to another edition … of ……”

The Compere's cheesy voice rose in expectation, as he spoke to the live studio audience, while smiling into Camera Two.

“ …. Enemies Reunited !!!!” chanted the onlookers, excitedly.

He cracked a few typically bad jokes to get the show started and the audience on his side. They groaned in unison at the corny punch lines.

“Well,” he said “it's time to meet our contestant ….”

Two male assistants escorted a female slave onto the stage.

The audience cheered and jeered.

The woman was dressed in a sleek black cocktail dress, fuck-me heels and black stockings. Her brown hair was neatly coiffed and she was wearing make up and lipstick. But she didn't look happy about it.

“So … tell us your name, honey.” The Compere said.

“Er … Liz.” She replied, glancing nervously from him, to the camera, to the hushed crowd and back.

“Liz …” he said. “That's a nice name. Married Liz ? Single ?”

“Single.” She said, quietly. She was 24 years old, a bottled blonde with darker roots, but pretty, willowy.

“Single – ahhh !” he mocked.

“ahhhh.” The audience joined him in a raucous show of sympathy.

“And how long have you been a slave Liz ?”

“Twelve days.”

“Twelve days, heh ? Havin' fun Liz ? So far ?”

She shook her head, eyes watering. The crowd cheered. There was a big screen behind the stage projecting a huge close up of Liz's face so that the audience could see her every reaction in detail.

“I'll take that as a yes.” He said, leering at the audience. “What do you like most, Liz, oral, anal or the boring old cunt, heh ?”

She shook her head again so he slapped her. “Answer the fucking question Liz. It's not difficult.” The audience laughed loudly.

“The … vag … cunt.”

He nodded. “Had you figured for a boring one, Liz. Lift up that dress and show the audience your cunt.”

Realising resistance was futile, she ever-so-slowly raised the hem of her black dress and lifted it up to her waist, revealing her stockings, suspender belt and the fact that she wore no other underwear. Her pouting vagina was hairless, her mound plump and inviting.

The audience clapped and shouted. Wolf whistles pierced the studio.

“Damn that's a cutie.” He reached across and put a finger between her labia, rubbing while he asked the next question.

“Now, Liz. Do you know this game ?”

She shook her head, glancing down at his fingers spreading her pussy lips for the cameras. “N … no.”

He smiled at her, then winked knowingly at the camera, a cruel smirk.

“Tell me, Liz, any enemies ? Anybody from your past you really pissed off ? Somebody who you think hates you ?”

Her mouth fell open. She shook her head. “N … no … not anybody.”

“What about somebody you might have annoyed without knowing it ? Or maybe you knew but didn't care. Maybe it didn't register ?”

She still shook her head. Or was there now a glimmer of a thought slowly dawning in her hazel coloured eyes ?

“Shall we invite somebody in ?” He turned to the audience. “Ladies and Gentlemen, it's time for …..”

The audience knew their part to perfection.

“…… Enemies Reunited !!!!” they all screamed at the top of their lungs.

Two new male assistants escorted another woman onto the stage. She was dressed in dominatrix black, a sexy leather low-cut top that showed off her boobs and midriff and a tight pair of PVC hot pants, fishnet stockings and heels. Despite the outfit, she wasn't much of a looker, not ugly, but certainly not gorgeous. Sort of homely, deceptively nice ‘homemaker material'. She looked mid-twenties, maybe a year or two older than Liz. Her pale tummy rippled over her hot pants as she moved.

She smiled and waved back at the cheering fans.

Liz had frozen, mouth open, eyes popping. She had dropped the hem of her dress. She stared at the new arrival on stage.

“So …” the Compere, said to both of them, “know each other ?”

Both women nodded, one unenthusiastically, the other triumphantly.

“So, Liz, please would you tell us your … er … friend's name.”

“Beth.” She mumbled. “B … b … Beth Richards.”

“Beth Richards !” he repeated, louder for the audience and TV viewers.

“Tell us, Beth, how do you know Lizzie here ?”

Excitedly, talking way too fast, Beth garbled.

“Well see, me and Liz know each other going way back. She was my friend at school and then one day I met this cute guy. We got on together and started, well, you know. Anyway, I loved him but he could never keep his eyes of Liz. I mean you just know, don't you ?”

The female members of the audience gave a knowing murmur of assent.

“Anyway,” she continued, “one day Liz sort of just decided she liked him too and that was that. He was nice to me. You know, broke it off nicely, as best he could. I felt sorry for him, really, she just seduced him and he fell for it. They went out, you know, dated a few months. After that he wanted to get together with me again but I didn't want to, I mean, I'm not into used goods. I've got my pride. A girl's gotta have her pride, right ?”

The Compere paused, genuine concern in his voice.

“And you're okay, now ?”

“Sure.” She said. “Got myself a nice man.” She waved at a whooping male in the front row of the audience. “Got a good job at a Credit Company too.”

“Did Liz know how you felt about it ?”

Beth looked over properly at Liz for the first time. Liz's face was perspiring under the bright studio lights.

“No. I hid it. I pretended I had finished with him too. Like I said, a girl needs her pride.”

“But,” the Compere said, winking at the camera, “maybe this girl doesn't need her pride … any more ….” He pointed a finger at Liz.

At this, he, Beth, the audience, and thousands of viewers at home, all chuckled loudly. Only Liz seemed to disagree.

“So, Beth, what have you got in store for Liz today ?”

Beth grinned and whispered into his ear for about fifteen seconds.

He smiled. Suddenly a chorus of canned, game show music blared. He looked at the camera and with a teasing smirk, announced: “We'll be right back after a short break. Don't go away !”

*** *** ***

 

Lara smiled at Gemma over the back of the sofa, as the first ad appeared on the screen.

“Damn, I love this show !” she exclaimed. “You ?”

Gemma stared at her. Not insolent or sullen. Her eyes were glazed, as if she couldn't really think about anything.

Lara smiled, her pussy moist with anticipation. She couldn't wait to play Michelle and Gemma off against each other. She had such amusements planned. Things that this woman Beth on the ER show couldn't even begin to imagine for her victim Liz.

Lara stood up and sidled over to Gemma. She stared deep into her bespectacled eyes. Both of them glared at each other. Eventually Lara giggled.

“How's Michelle's supper ?” she asked.

Gemma looked confused for a moment. Then she scowled.

Lara lifted her right hand and slowly ran her index finger down from Gemma's chin, over her throat, to her heavy, pale breasts, each pock-marked with inflamed nettle rash. She teased the itching spots a while, then slid her finger sensuously down to admire the gentle curve of Gemma's full belly.

“Poor Michelle. Not only will you condemn her by losing control of your bowels. But then she will have to consume the evidence of your lack of control. What will she think of you, when she finds out that she would have been found innocent, if you could just have held out a little longer ! It'll be enough to make her choke on her supper I expect !”

Lara slowly circled Gemma as she spoke, finally stopping behind her back. She knelt and put her finger at the rim of Gemma's bottom.

“Curried excrement. Yours. Just imagine.”

Gemma was silent. Her tense body spoke for her. Lara could tell she had just stiffened her victim's sinews for yet another few minutes. Excellent.

Lara pulled on a glove and grasped a fresh bunch of nettles from a tall vase. She pressed them against the backs of Gemma's knees, watching her flinch delightfully, goose bumps rising on cherry coloured skin. She pushed them up her inner thighs, and then trailed a single leaf right into the darker skin of Gemma's brown rim.

At that moment, there was a quiet, but unmistakeable hiss of gas as Gemma passed wind involuntarily, almost over Lara's hand.

Lara recoiled. She sniffed. Very quickly an incredibly strong, putrid stench invaded her nostrils. Simultaneously amused and enraged, she walked round to face an obviously terrified Gemma.

“S … sorry …. Mistress.” She said, eyes downcast.

Lara sniffed again, staring at her.

“This …” Lara hissed, “you fucking bitch, is not a democracy. I can do things that you cannot. For any slave to pass wind is unforgivable. For you, my personal slave, to fart in my face, is ….” She fanned at the air with her hand, lost for words.

“All I can say is,” Lara eventually continued, “that I took that insult very personally.”

The noise from the screen signalled the restart of the ER Show.

“And I can certainly think of some suitable insults to throw back at you !”

With that, she hurled down the nettles and gloves and sat back on the sofa, arms folded.

*** *** ***

Stella studied the small pile in front of her. When she purchased Jane and Jim Bryant the day before, she also acquired their few remaining assets, which the Auction House had delivered at the same time as the Judge and his wife.

They were a paltry amount of possessions, what was left from their lives as free people. They would maybe be better off as slaves after all ! Most of anything that could have been sold for Credits or food had been. A couple of boxes and a small luggage trunk were all that remained. Stella ransacked the trunk and made a little pile of clothes, mainly lingerie, for keeping, and threw the rest for the bonfire. In one box there were photographs, letters, diaries, and other paraphernalia, obviously stuff of emotional value but financially worthless. She added a couple of things to the small pile but jettisoned all the rest for burning.

But on opening the second box, she smiled. Neatly packed in tissue paper, moth balls and protective covers, was a pure white wedding dress, with the satin shoes, even a pressed posy of dried flowers. Underneath was a male black tuxedo suit and patent leather shoes. Obviously their wedding outfits. Probably worth a few Credits but Stella guessed that it must have been too much of an emotional wrench for them to sell.

And now they belonged to Stella. Oh dear !

*** *** ***

 

“Welcome back.” Announced the Compere, after the break. “So, Beth, tell us, was Liz here a popular girl at school ?”

“I'm sure she thought she was.”

“And was she ?”

Beth looked at Liz and shook her head. “Not really.”

“Tell us more.”

“When I found out about her bankruptcy and purchase by the Brute Corporation, who made this program, I contacted everybody we knew, and also people that she had met since. I went through her old address book and asked them about coming on ER. To tell the truth, I was a bit surprised by how many thought it was a great idea. She didn't seem to have any real friends outside her relatives. And they couldn't afford to help her. But she seemed to have made a lot of enemies.”

“And are any of them here today, Beth ?”

“Sure. Loads.”

They both peered into the darkened front section where the ‘special guests' sat.

“So, who's the first you're going to call up on stage, Beth ?”

“Our old history teacher. His name is Bill Cooper but I think Liz would remember him better by our old nickname for him.”

The Compere flashed a cheesy grin. “Come on up please, Randy Goat !”

Music blared, strobe lights flashed, as a tall, stooping man descended from the main aisle onto the stage. He looked in his fifties, grey and balding, with cheap spectacles and a long face, not unlike a goat's.

The audience whooped and hollered and the man raised his fist in salute.

“So,” said the Compere to the new guest, “Bill, or should I call you Randy ?”

The man grinned good naturedly, revealing uneven lower teeth.

“Randy's fine.”

“Do you remember Liz, Randy ?”

“Sure. Cock teasing minx. Always flirting to try to get better grades.”

“Really. You ever try a move on her, Randy ?”

“Once. I waited until her final year. She was 18. I'm no pervert. Put my hand on her arse when she was leaning over a desk looking at a plan of an ancient battle. She turned and looked at me like I was dirt.”

“So you never liked her since ?”

He shook his head.

Beth beamed at him. Liz wiped a bead of sweat or a tear from her eye.

“And now ?”

“Going to make up for lost time.” He said, eyeing Liz hungrily.

But first all the special guests were brought up on stage and introduced one by one. It maintained the tension, teased the audience, and heightened the victim's nervousness and humiliation. One by one, ‘blasts from her past' re-entered her life: in all, there were eight school friends, another old teacher, three people who had lived in the same street as Liz as teenagers, three of her ex-work colleagues, her father's old boss, an ex-housemate of hers and an ex-boyfriend. A total of twenty enemies including Beth and Randy. In all, there were ten males and ten females.

To the sound of the Stripper music, Beth and two other women slowly unzipped Liz's cocktail dress and eased it over her head, leaving her in just her bra, suspender belt, stockings and heels. Each guest stepped forward and felt her up, laughing into her crimson face. Two cameramen roved around the scene taking close ups that were projected onto the big screens.

The audience chanted “Re-United” repeatedly and stamped their feet, sounding like a stadium of sports fans.

Liz sobbed but didn't resist. She just stood there like a deer in headlights.

Beth unfastened the bra and waved it in circles over her head.

Randy Goat took each of her tits in a hand and cupped them for everybody to see. He grinned and wiggled his tongue in Liz's ear.

A Studio assistant carried out a tall umbrella stand. It was stacked with bamboo canes, leather crops, a plastic sjambok.

“So,” the Compere said, instilling quiet in the Studio, “what is Liz's first treat to be, Beth ?”

Beth leaned into the microphone. “A caning. Sixty of the best.”

The audience cheered.

“Sixty ! Phew. Are you going to tie her up for that ?”

“No. We decided that she must just bend over and touch her toes. And count them and thank each of us in turn. If she moves, touches her butt, or fails to count and thank us, the stroke won't count.”

The twenty guests each selected the weapon of their choice.

Beth and the same two women bent Liz over at the waist, in the middle of the stage, arranged side on to the audience. The cameras caught a lovely exchange of looks from the two main protagonists. Liz's eyes pleading. Beth's glinting, savage and triumphant. In time, a freeze frame of the moment would become the cover of the DVD of this particular episode of ER.

Liz bent right over as far as she could. The high heels made it harder for her to touch her toes but she just managed it. The stockings and suspender belt framed her bottom, defining the target zone. Her brown hair and white breasts hung down towards the stage.

A technician placed a microphone and mini-camera on the floor under Liz's head to broadcast the sound of her counting and her facial expressions for everybody on stage, in the studio and sat at home.

Beth stepped up, and the audience gradually fell totally silent, as a few people made a ‘sshh' sound. Their faces were excited, expectant.

Beth sliced the long rattan through the air in a practice swing.

It made a deep whoosh.

Then she took another step forward and, without warning, landed it hard right in the middle of Liz's stretched buttocks.

All eyes flicked up to the large screen. Liz was broadcast grimacing, clenching her teeth in a rictus of pain, eyes screwed tight. A timer in the bottom right corner of the screen counted down from 3.00 seconds, the maximum time in which she had to count and thank Beth.

With 0.51 seconds left, she had gasped out “One, thankyou, Ma'am.”

A large, red ‘1' appeared in the bottom left of the screen.

Beth sneered, disappointed, and lifted the cane back as far behind her shoulder as she could, then swung it down with maximum force.

The splat of bamboo on trembling flesh was tremendous.

This time Liz's mouth opened in a silent wail. She shook her head from side to side. She seemed to have trouble gasping for breath.

“T … two, thankyou, Ma'am.”

Just in time.

*** *** ***

BJ exhaled. It had been tense. But he had purchased not one, not two, not three, but four families for ‘Family Fortunes'. They had cost 52,000 Credits in all, but he reckoned they would earn many times that. In particular, he liked the Harvey-Stackfords and the Kellys. A three-way competition between them and Neil's family, the Evans, would be a great way to launch the new series. He couldn't wait to see the look on his stepmum Stella's face when his Family Fortunes knocked her ER program off top spot in the ratings ! Now it was time to celebrate.

*** *** ***

By now, late morning, she was on her eighth customer. She had been used several times in each hole. This one, a boy in his late teens, had complained about the sloppiness of her cunt and arse and so she was having to use her cleavage to masturbate him, pushing her breasts together up and down over his erection while he sat in an armchair and gazed down at her impassively.

The son of a nearby farmer who had made a small fortune from selling black market foods, he visited the Brute Corporation most days, and knew how to treat the bitches. He made sure he spent time with all the new ones. The computer had scheduled him in for this one's first day.

He watched his swollen cock head sliding between her tits, enjoying the sensation. She was working hard to bring him off in the allotted time. He moved his foot and pushed his big toe up into her drooling cunt.

The lads would enjoy a session with this one.

He came in thick, pearly white pulses all over his stomach, also spattering her tits and her neck. A deep pool of jizz lay in his belly button.

“Lap that up, slut.” He said, checking his watch.

He smiled as her pink tongue slid over his slime, her lips vacuuming it up and her throat bobbing as she swallowed. When the bulk of it had been guzzled, she used her tongue to lick him totally clean.

As he was buckling up to leave, he asked; “by the way, what's your name slut ?”

“Jane.”

He gave her his best leer. “See you again, Jane.”

*** *** ***

Liz had made it to thirty eight out of sixty strokes. But then she could take no more, voluntarily, and she hopped around, rubbing her bottom, refusing to bend over any more, tears flowing down her cheeks.

The audience jeered, laughed and began to chant.

Program assistants soon had Liz tied face-up onto a low bench, with her legs back and up over her head. Her ankles were fastened tightly to two stirrups either side. Her bright red arse was thus presented helplessly for the second part of the flogging. The audience chanted the numbers loudly as the red numbers in the bottom left of the screen counted down from 38 received to 28, deducting 10 of the strokes she had already borne for disobedience. Sixty had become seventy.

An assistant pushed a solid rubber O ring gag into Liz's wailing mouth and buckled it tight round the back of her rumpled, bottled blonde hair.

Then, one of Liz's old school friends who had been rudely interrupted during her award of three strokes, stepped forward, giggling, and swung the cane down on the upturned globes to finish her turn.

Beth ushered forward the teacher, Billy Goat, and the two of them stood by Liz's head. Slowly, Billy lowered his corduroy trousers and fished his erect cock out through the damp slit in his grimy underpants.

Beth took a firm grip of Liz's hair and pulled tight to keep her head immobile. The teacher immediately began fisting his cock inches above Liz's face.

The caning continued as he masturbated. All those not in the line to beat Liz, soon gathered round one side of her head, so as not to impair the audience's view from the other side.

A roar went up as Billy's knees trembled and he shot a thin jet of come straight into the hole in the O gag. A few more drops spattered Liz's face.

After that a free-for-all developed. All the men took a turn. The first few wanked themselves, or sometimes even the women wanked them. Then one man simply pointed his penis at Liz's mouth and urinated.

There was no problem finding volunteers to give the extra ten strokes earned.

The studio audience chanted down the final three.

“Fifty eight.”

“Fifty nine.”

“Sixty !”

Two assistants appeared with a tray covered with a velvet cloth. They presented it to Beth who, with a flourish, removed the cloth. She held up a huge red vibrator to the audience and cameras.

It was a legendary ‘Killer Driller'. Twelve inches long with another four inches of handle, it was three inches wide at the crown, narrowing to just under three in the shaft. A veritable plastic fist ! Beth held it close to the cameras to show the tiny sharp rubber nodules and the clear section of odd-shaped steel ball bearings in the shaft. She flicked the switch and briefly demonstrated the churning ball bearings as they pushed the plastic sides of the vibrator in and out unevenly.

The crowd went berserk as Beth slid the vibrator into a tub of grease. It was clearly labelled but ER aficionados already knew that it contained a clear lubricant that had been laced with lemon, peppers and chillies.

Beth knelt down between Liz's splayed thighs and patted her red and purple welted bottom. The canes and crops were a light and flexible variety, made to administer searing pain but not to cause long term damage. There were a few specks of blood and a couple of marks where the skin had burst but nothing that a few weeks wouldn't heal. Which was more than could be said for Liz's pride.

An assistant pushed a button and the two stirrups swung out sideways, pulling Liz's thighs wider.

Beth invited an ex-colleague and a jilted boyfriend to pull open Liz's labia, as a cameraman leaned in for a better shot.

It was wonderful to watch their enemy try to resist. She twitched, gurgled into the O gag and managed to move her bottom a fraction of an inch.

At that moment, a female who was standing astride Liz's head urinated. The young woman had modestly kept her short skirt on, but she was not wearing panties and a twenty second gush of piss soaked Liz's face yet again.

Beth had by now placed the driller head at the entrance to Liz's cunt. Ever so slowly, laughing with the audience and onlookers onstage, she pushed on the massive shaft, to chants of ‘push … push … push'.

There was momentary resistance when it looked impossible but then Beth's strong arm and the greasy lubricant did their work. Inch by inch the monstrous thing disappeared into Liz's once proud body.

When seven inches were inside, there was secondary resistance. It was obviously getting tight up there ! Beth paused and wiped the shine from her own forehead. The crowd around her pulled on Liz's ankles, edging them further apart.

“Uuuhgnh …. Uunghh …” Liz wailed through the gag.

Beth pushed on.

Eight inches.

Nine inches.

She flicked the ‘on' switch and Liz's mound seemed to come alive, as the vibrator began its vicious grinding and churning. Her labia twisted to and fro' like loose cement in a mixer.

A jet of semen shot over Liz's breasts from somewhere.

Ten inches.

Eleven inches.

Twelve inches.

The audience cheered. Beth stared down into Liz's glazed eyes, twisting the vibrator left and right to wedge it in at full capacity.

It was time for the denouement.

*** *** ***

“I've got just the thing.” The brothel manager smiled at Brutus Junior and pressed several keys on the board to bring up two photographs on a split screen.

“Your step mum purchased them three weeks ago.”

BJ whistled appreciatively. Stella never ceased to amaze him, keeping this pair hidden. On the screen were facial photos of one of the most attractive male and female couples he'd ever seen. He recognised her vaguely. Some sort of TV personality from a couple of years earlier and he thought she was one of those model-actress types who was more ‘famous for being famous' rather than anything she'd ever actually done. He didn't even bother asking how Stella had got hold of them.

“We've got them reserved for ‘family only'. Brutus and Stella have used them, a couple of our State shareholders too, that's it. I invited Lara to try them yesterday but she's preoccupied with that new bitch of hers.”

BJ scrolled down to full body shots of the pair.

“Him ?”

The manager smiled. “No trouble. Don will do anything you say. Meek and mild. Don't worry, he'll be hating it underneath but he's responded exceptionally well to the punishments and threats. Try him. Push him. But I'd be surprised if he gives you any trouble at all.”

BJ nodded. “Sounds great. I'll take them, a couple of beers and a nice lunch.”

The manager pressed a button on the screen. “Done. Now, do you want to bathe first, a shower, or a sauna and cold tub ?”

BJ sniffed his shirt under his arms. “Why, do I smell ?”

Both of them laughed. His lack of hygiene and bathing was legendary around the Compound. To an extent it was the laziness of youth, except he had domestic maids who would wash his underpants if he bothered to change them. Joelle tried to persuade him to wash, shave and change clothes, but that only made him more determined. The truth was that BJ loved the fact that his body odour and sweaty crack, along with his geeky appearance, stubble and acne, made him even less appealing to women.

“No, lets get straight to it”. He said.

*** *** ***

“So, you two know each other.” It was more statement than question.

The brunette slave nodded. She had served Brutus coffee and biscuits on a tray and given an audible gasp and backward step on seeing the Judge's wife in the corner.

She nodded uncertainly. “Yes, Sir.”

The Judge and his wife were working in Brutus's large office. The naked Judge was on his hands and knees picking particles of dust up with his fingers. His nude wife was sat cross-legged in a corner polishing leather bound box files. She had looked up at the same moment the other slave entered.

Brutus smiled and pushed away the Sale Contracts for the six slaves that Rhino was buying.

“Interesting. And who are you ?”

“Rebecca. Sir.”

Brutus studied her. He vaguely remembered her. An early purchase. Dark, almost black hair, doe eyes, pretty, good figure and tits, a bit worse for wear now, but still eminently fuckable.

“What are you now ?”

“A vide couilles, Sir.”

He nodded. “And so why are you serving me coffee not working in the brothel ?”

“I have thrush, Sir. In the mouth and vagina, Sir. Doctor Thorne just prescribed me two days off to avoid passing on anything to the customers, Sir.”

Brutus crooked his finger. She approached and assumed the vide couilles position; legs apart, chest out, mouth open, hands on her head.

“And you know these two ?”

“Yes Sir. Judge Anderson and his wife, Sir. Camilla. I knew her better. We were part of the same luncheon club Sir.”

Brutus grinned and casually ran a hand down Rebecca's flank. A germ of an idea had formed in his mind.

“How long have you been here ?”

“Seven months Sir. And a few days. I forget exactly how many, Sir.”

“You must have learned a lot in that time.”

Her eyes flickered. “Yes Sir.”

“The truth. Do you like being a vide couilles ?”

“N … no Sir.”

“Would you like a break ? A chance. Maybe just a few days, maybe longer ?”

Her eyes gave her away. Longing. Desperation. She bit her lip.

“Yes Sir. Very much, Sir.”

“Enough to seize any opportunity ?”

“Anything, Sir.”

Brutus paused, making up his mind. In truth, he had already decided, but it wouldn't do to let her know that. Stella tended to forget about slaves once she'd broken them or become bored with them. But Brutus enjoyed mending the occasional broken toy. He pointed at Camilla, the Judge's wife.

“Come.”

She laid down a leather box file and approached the desk to stand next to Rebecca. Brutus smiled at the narrow but distinct gap the two women kept between them.

“So, you know Rebecca ?”

Camilla nodded, blushing, standing naked next to her ex-luncheon club member. “Yes … Sir.”

Brutus stared at both of them. “Rebecca,” he said, moderating his tone to suggest he was now on her side, “this new slave needs training. Would you like to accept the challenge of being her trainer ? You'll get better food.”

He picked up a chocolate biscuit from his plate and handed it to her. She took it incredulously and held it, running it under her nose, finally taking a small bite.

“You'll get to sleep outside the cages. Other trainer privileges.”

He smiled indulgently at the expression of ecstasy on her face as the biscuit melted in her mouth.

“Yes, Sir. Absolutely, Sir.”

“Just one thing.” He paused for emphasis. “There is no point me appointing you when I can get any old trainer to do an ordinary job. You have to do a special job.”

Rebecca nodded enthusiastically, taking another bite of biscuit.

“Have you got it in you to do a thorough job on an old friend of yours like Camilla here ?”

She didn't bat an eyelid. “I have, Sir.”

“Look straight at her and say that again.”

Rebecca faced Camilla without missing a beat. “Yes, I have Sir.”

Camilla's startled blue eyes moved from Rebecca to Brutus and back.

“Good.” He said, taking a sip of coffee. “You have complete power to do anything a trainer can do. Instruct, order, test, punish, humiliate. If I see or hear for one moment you are being soft on her, you will go back to the brothel so fast your body won't touch the sides. In fact, I expect you to be doubly harsh on her. Understood ?”

“Yes Sir.” There was a cautious note of enthusiasm in Rebecca's voice. It was probably only because she understood that in this jungle it was eat or be eaten, but Brutus was intrigued nevertheless.

“You have twenty four hours. I want a domestic maid, office clerk and cock masseuse rolled into one. This time tomorrow I will give her three tests. If she fails any single one of them, she will suffer. But you will also have failed and your chance will have gone. Am I making myself clear ?”

Rebecca met his enquiring gaze. “Perfectly Sir.”

Brutus laughed aloud. A deep baritone chuckle.

“Good !” He pointed at Camilla's listening husband. “And while you're about it you can train him too. Do you know what CBT is ?”

Rebecca nodded. “Yes Sir.”

“I doubt he's too old not to value his crown jewels. Devalue them.”

She nodded, staring over at ex-Judge Anderson. “I will Sir.”

Brutus looked at his watch. “I have to go. She is owed twenty strokes of the cane on her tits. Take them to one of the dungeons and start her training with those. If they give you any trouble, summon some guards.”

Pushing his chair away from the desk and picked up the Sale Contracts.

“Oh, and enjoy yourself, because it may not last long. I'd like to think you will teach him some …. er, cunning linguistic skills.”

Brutus left Rebecca, Camilla and her husband staring at each other.

*** *** ***

When Brutus arrived, five female slaves were already loaded into individual, cramped cages on the cart. The sixth cage was empty. The male slave Bidet was grovelling at Rhino's dusty boots, while his weeping wife, Lavatory sobbed, held between four burly guards. Stella was standing impatiently holding a riding crop, looking on.

“Pl … ease, S … Sir …” Bidet begged. “Take me too.”

Rhino looked down, grinning impassively.

“Sorry, lad. I've only got six cages and I've spent all my budget on females. Your owner drives a hard bargain.”

“But she's my w … wife … “ he wailed. “Pl … ease … aaaah.” Stella had swung the crop across his back.

The guards made to help drag him away.

Rhino raised a hand.

“Wait.” He winked at Stella and Brutus. “A deal ?” He looked at Brutus. “Will you sell me this one for 1,000 Credits on one condition ?”

Brutus exchanged glances with Stella. “What condition ?”

“If his wife here can blow me in five minutes, no hands, and make me come in her mouth, and swallow my entire load without spilling a drop.”

Brutus grinned. He knew that Rhino had taken a MOP tablet after the earlier session. It would be fun to see if it worked. Stella shrugged.

“Five minutes. Not a second more.” She said.

Rhino kicked Bidet away and stood by a nearby bench.

“Clock's ticking.”

Lavatory rushed forward and knelt between his boots. She fumbled open his zip and pulled down his pants, releasing the thickening, vein-swollen erection that she had taken in her bottom a few hours earlier.

“Hands behind you back.” Rhino said, sitting on the bench. “You,” he said to Bidet, “lean your head close, and watch your lady suck for your boat ticket to join her.”

Brutus and Stella sat down either side of Rhino on the bench.

Lavatory's lips stretched round the absurdly over-endowed helmet.

Her head bobbed fast, neck muscles straining, nostrils flaring, slurping sounds escaping from the side of her mouth.

Rhino counted down each minute on his watch, smirking at Bidet's desperate face.

Then, remarkably, still with over one minute left, Rhino groaned in pleasure. Brutus watched him thrust his cock to meet Lavatory's bobbing head and he ground his teeth, exhaling as his balls exploded.

Lavatory's eyes suddenly flew wide open in shock. Her cheeks bulged and her throat convulsed. A great grimace of alarm appeared.

Suddenly semen spurted out from her nostrils like snot and she gagged, as her lips opened and a flood of pearly fluid escaped from the sides of her mouth.

She tried desperately for a moment to save the day but fell back, spluttering, spewing yet more of the copious excess of liquid on the ground. Thin milky rivers drooling from each side of her mouth made her look like a female vampire that feasted on semen not blood. She didn't know it, but she had just tried to swallow well over half a pint of male ejaculate delivered with the force of a fire hydrant.

Bidet's handsome face collapsed and he fell to the floor beside her.

Rhino had a lazy post-orgasmic smile. He shrugged. “Don't worry doll. A few weeks under my ownership and you'll learn to guzzle a load like that no problem. But I'm afraid that's gonna be too late to buy your husband here's boat ticket alongside you.”

Two guards dragged the wailing Bidet away.

“Sell him to the Mining Corporation.” Said Stella, firmly. “As he obviously doesn't want to stay here, then he can go work down the mines for a living.”

Brutus handed the signed Contracts over to Rhino. He took one last lingering look at Lavatory, his ex-favourite. Not much to worry about now, covered in dust, sweat, jism and tears as she was.

“Sorry about the tattoo.” He said, as two other guards dragged her to her feet, revealing the heart shaped ‘I love Brutus' on her mound.

Rhino guffawed. “Hah. It will remind me of my pleasant time with you. I'll be back in three months for some more purchases, okay ?”

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Brutus replied.

As Lavatory was shoved forcefully into the sixth cage, Stella, Rhino and Brutus shook hands. Moments later the cart lurched away, taking Lavinia and five other slaves off to their new life overseas.

*** *** ***

Rebecca stared at Camilla and her husband.

“I'll say this only once. I have no choice, you know that.”

Camilla shook her head. “Surely … “

Rebecca interrupted brusquely. “Surely nothing ! Now stand there and stick out your chest. And you Ian,” she said to Camilla's husband, “do absolutely everything I say, understood ?”

They both looked at her obstinately, uncooperatively.

“We've got twenty four hours. I intend to train you both exactly as I've been told. If I have to call the guards, you will both suffer tremendously. As Master Brutus would say, am I making myself clear ?”

Rebecca glanced up at the CCTV camera mounted in the dungeon ceiling. They could all be being watched right this second.

“Yes.” Said Camilla, with a long sigh.

“Yes.” Ian echoed, beside her.

Rebecca exhaled.

“Good.”

It had been a long time since anybody had kissed Rebecca down there. She felt a strange flicker of heat in her loins. She didn't dare risk passing on thrush to Camilla, but Ian was not a concern.

“Kneel between my thighs Ian.”

Both of them just gawped at her again.

Rebecca sighed. “This is getting tiresome. The next time either of you hesitates or disobeys me, I will call the guards. Final warning, got that ?”

This time there was a resigned look of defeat in their eyes.

Slowly, Ian dropped to his knees and shuffled forward.

Rebecca felt a tiny thrill as she kept her eyes on Camilla.

“Go to it Ian. It's better than the cock you'll be sucking next.”

Rebecca felt his lips nuzzling and parted her legs slightly.

“One day you'll understand.” She said to Camilla. “Slaves aren't allowed to climax. Even female ones. It's been a long time.”

Camilla's jaw had tightened in a fierce, enraged look.

“Don't you worry about him.” Rebecca said. “You'll get yours soon enough. Now, I don't suppose you've ever been caned on these ?”

She reached up and hefted Camilla's heavy bosoms in her hands.

Camilla obviously didn't think the absurd question merited a response.

“Well I have.” Rebecca continued. “And I can tell you that it fucking hurts. More than you can imagine. Don't think I'm going to hold back because you're a beginner. Stick out your chest and don't move.”

A CCTV camera mounted on the ceiling whirred. A sign that somebody was watching.

Rebecca picked up a light, crook-handled cane from the umbrella stand. Ian stayed lapping at her vagina, which was lubricating fast.

“I won't make you count them this time. But look at me throughout.”

Rebecca swung the cane down half-force onto Camilla's breasts. It made a high-pitched splat sound, like a snapping twig, and her tits bounced and rippled. Camilla shrieked and raised her arms protectively.

Making a face, Rebecca shook her head.

“That one doesn't count. I said to look at me and keep your hands down. ” She reached with her left hand and steered Ian's coiffed, grey flecked hair so that his tongue slid deeper into her. “And you just concentrate on what's going on down there. Up here is none of your business.”

Rebecca swung again, this time three-quarters force. The noise was louder and the tit reaction more spectacular, but Camilla stared straight back into Rebecca's eyes. Her bright blue eyes were dry, arrogant.

“Now you're getting into the swing of it. That's one.”

She couldn't believe how it felt. Seven months of resentment stored up inside her. Suddenly the boot was on the other foot.

She raised the cane again and brought it down full-force.

*** *** ***

Liz howled as the bucket of fire ants was emptied over her face and body. Several of them fell into the O ring gag but most landed in her hair, on her cheeks and all over her tits and belly. Then Beth emerged with a thick plastic syringe crawling with ants and waved it in Liz's face, before inserting the nozzle a couple of inches inside Liz's rectum and then pushing the plunger, emptying yet more of the army into her bowels.

Everybody stood back to watch the biting insects start to do their work. A tray of chilled champagne was served to cool everybody down under the hot studio lights. The Killer Driller was still wedged into Liz's birth canal, pumping and churning away happily on remote control.

In the corner, a metal pole stood in a burning brazier. On the end of the pole a small, coin sized circle was glowing red-hot. Inside the circle the reversed letters E and R were prominent, so that when applied they showed the right way to an onlooker.

As a finale - but not for an hour or so, until the ants had blazed a fiery trail through her internal and outer flesh - Liz would be branded on her forehead, tits, and buttocks as a member of the elite club of participants in Enemies Reunited. The pain would pass, even the memories would fade, but the stigma would last forever.

Still, at least she'd get the following day off to recover.

Unwanted as a personal slave and made redundant by the brothel, she would spend the remainder of her useful days in the Corporation's breeding pens. She didn't know it then but her reproductive organs survived the events of the ER Show without any ill effects. In fact, nobody knew it then, but thanks to the new MOMMA tablets supplied by Rhino, Liz Thompson became a useful reproductive member of society after all. Between 2009 and 2026, her worn out body provided no less than eighty two offspring, who were all adopted at birth by suitable families.

And in 2040, it was the first son of Liz's second litter, a man who was to become the legend called Tyrone, that led the Revolution against the bureaucrats when he was aged just 30, that overturned the Northern Alliance Government and, eventually, restored democracy in Europe.

But that is a whole other story.

*** *** ***

Stella glanced up at the screen showing ER. She was touring the breeding pens. A long line of off duty guards and male customers snaked around the outside wall of the rutting shed. Men smoked, snacked, swapped jokes and stories, waiting their turns for freebies.

Inside the shed, three women were splayed out on the iron cots receiving their donations. Mass pornography often suggests that endless quantities of sperm are more likely to result in pregnancy. In fact, gang bangs are less likely to achieve conception as each different man's sperm fights with the others in a struggle for biological supremacy. Stella knew that this wasn't the most efficient way to breed her human mares. But until Rhino had arrived with his MOMMA tabs, she hadn't considered breeding as a meaningful source of revenue. It was just a place to send some slaves and any money earned was a side benefit.

The sounds of the breeding pens were distinct; the endless grunting and occasional female moan, the rhythmic squeaking of the cot springs, the slap of flesh on flesh and roars of male orgasm, and the snap of belt buckles, zippers, and clothes being pulled off and on as the generous donors came and went.

Stella leered down into the pretty face of one young woman, whose eyes were rolling in their sockets as a heavy man pumped away in her. A clip board attached to the cot reminded Stella that this one was only 21. For some reason she couldn't immediately recall, she had decided to breed her young. With a smile, she wrote the word ‘MOMMA' in big letters on the clip board. Trials could begin immediately.

She looked at karen, a heavily pregnant slave who assisted in the pens, and smiled at the memory of that transaction. karen's ex-husband had contacted Stella many months ago and suggested it in the first place.

But that, too, is a whole other story (which another author soon plans to tell in a separate post).

*** *** ***

The inevitable happened after two hours and twenty three terrible minutes. Gemma's sphincter gave out and a trickle of diarrhoea slid down her inside leg. Lara laughed excitedly. She rushed over and stood facing Gemma, stroking her face.

“Let it out, baby. Game's over. Michele's guilty.”

Big, wet, silent tears slid down Gemma's cheeks. Lara pushed at her stomach firmly, digging in with her elegant red nails.

“Come on. Empty yourself and fill the bucket.”

She walked over to the screen and flamboyantly pressed ‘send' so that Gemma could see the email depart.

“Guilty ! Don't say I wasn't fair. I waited until the verdict.”

Gemma broke into sobs and there was a sound from behind her like running water. It continued for over fifteen seconds as a horrible stench filled the room.

Lara lifted a pre-prepared perfumed hanky to her face. She peered round the side of Gemma's hips and then back at her face.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Poor, poor Michele.”

*** *** ***

BJ was resting on the huge, circular, satin covered water bed. It was bright pink, with mirrors on the ceiling and trashy neon lights. A real brothel fantasy room. His lunch tray was finished and he was down to his underpants and socks. He was lying on the bed with two truly beautiful people.

Diana was still in the sexiest black lace lingerie BJ had ever seen; a quarter cup bra from which her perfect breasts overflowed – like trying to balance pineapples in tea spoons, as his dad would have said – and a pair of knickers the type of which he'd never seen before. They were apparently called an ‘ouvert', she'd told him when he asked. Old French for ‘open'. There was a lace trimmed slit in the front of the knickers through which BJ could glimpse her pussy pouting occasionally. French whores and mistresses wore them so they could have sex without removing their underwear. Diana was 25 years old, just married, with shiny dark hair, green eyes, luscious lips, perfect white teeth and 38D – 22 – 34 statistics. She was lying alongside him, running her shapely fingers up and down BJ's legs and over the tent in the yellow-stained front of his grimy underpants.

Don was naked. Totally naked, as BJ had allowed his cock cage to be removed. He was hunched kneeling over BJ's feet, worshipping and sucking his sweat-stiff socks. Diana's husband was 26 years old, just a year older than BJ but physically opposite; surfer dude handsome, with straw coloured hair, a dazzling smile and a 6 pack for a stomach on his 6 foot frame.

“Remove a sock, Donnie lad.” BJ instructed.

Carefully, reverently, Donnie eased the stiff sock off, to reveal BJ's unwashed foot and dirt encrusted, uncut toe nails. Even BJ could smell his own aroma like an overpoweringly ripe cheese. He twiddled his toes.

There were faded yellow bruises on Donnie's buttocks and back where he had no doubt required some encouragement to obey all commands.

“Lick.” Said BJ.

He grinned at Diana. Her husband was sucking his big toe. BJ took the back of her head and pushed it down to his waist.

“Lower my underpants.” He paused. “With your teeth.”

Equally carefully and reverently, she caught his waist band in her teeth and slowly tugged until his cock sprang free. The same cock that had fucked Mrs Evans, been blown by Joelle, and fucked, buggered and been sucked by a dozen others, and taken countless pisses, since it had last seen hot water and soap.

“Look up at me.” He said.

He loved her beautiful, mingled expression of nausea, hate, fear and submission. Her throat made a slight gagging sound.

“Go to it, darling.”

*** *** ***

The bright blue eyes were no longer so proud. Or dry.

Tears coursed down Camilla's cheeks as she bit her lower lip and tried to be brave.

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

Rebecca had already climaxed once and she was near again. Ian was not quite what she'd have called a movie-star-hunk in the old days, but she had always secretly considered him worth a second look. With his clothes off, he was sexy and he was functional. She could certainly improve his tongue action given the chance, but he was at least hitting the spot. Instead of fully satisfying her, as Rebecca would have expected, her first orgasm had merely been like a delicious hors d'oeuvre at a banquet.

She brought down the cane lustily for the twenty first time, but this was only the twentieth stroke to count.

Camilla burst into proper heaving sobs of relief. Obediently she still didn't raise her hands to massage her throbbing crimson mammaries. A good sign. Twenty four hours was not long to train total obedience.

Rebecca dropped the cane and opened her legs. She'd never climaxed standing up before today. It felt strange, great but not as relaxing, which was probably a good thing. She forced her eyes to stay fixed on Camilla's as her pleasure peaked and she gave a quiet whimper of release.

“A long time since he did that for you, I'll bet.” She said, finally.

Camilla didn't reply. Her expression was eloquent. It had been years.

Rebecca fingered Camilla's red-hot tit, producing a sharp intake of breath and a reflex arm motion from her.

Rebecca waved a finger like a scolding mother.

“Arms by your side. Absorb the pain. This was nothing.” She paused, watching Camilla control her breathing. “You,” she said to Ian, “get up and stand here, next to your wife.”

She waited until they were side by side before asking the next question.

“Camilla, I want the absolute truth. Do you like sucking cocks ?”

Camilla squinted to get rid of a tear drying on her eyelash.

“No.”

Short. And to the point.

“But you've done it. Did it ? Sometimes.”

A long pause. Camilla shook her head. The meaning was clear. No. Never.

Rebecca shook her head. “I don't believe it. I thought I was a bloody prude before I came here. But you take the prize.” She turned her gaze on Ian. “This true ? Forty years old. Never once. Not even when you were much younger ?”

Ian just looked at her briefly and turned his eyes away.

“Well,” Rebecca said, “blow me !” She laughed at her own accidental joke. “Why ? You must be one helluva good fuck instead.”

Camilla was piqued into responding. “If you must know, it goes back to my mother. In our facts of life talk, she said that a lady has to do some things to keep a man happy she might not otherwise do. But she should always draw the line at that. I never saw any reason to ignore her advice.”

Rebecca shook her head. “Oh lady ! Are you in for a shock.”

There was a long silence while all three of them digested the information.

Eventually, Rebecca took a sideways step to face Ian properly. She looked down, and reached to handle his still frightened, shrivelled penis, nestled in a dark forest of curly pubic hair. It vaguely annoyed her that he clearly hadn't found licking her pussy at all stimulating. But she had seen hundreds of penises in the past few months. She had learned you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. It was only when erect that any really big ones revealed themselves. Expertly, she fingered his scrotum and pulled back the soft foreskin.

“I think we need to call the guards for the next bit.” She announced.

*** *** ***

Jim couldn't fight or resist, fastened as he was into the pillory, his neck and wrists locked into holes in the wooden frame.

He felt the strong hand smearing some sort of slimy lubricant over his buttocks, in his crack and then a finger roughly pushing a great dollop up inside him. The hand was practised, big and clearly male. He felt the coarse hairs on the back of the hand and wrist brushing against his own bare skin. There was a momentary respite during which Jim hoped against hope that whoever it was would leave.

Then he felt fingers again, this time parting his buttocks gently, almost lovingly, before a hard wedge of flesh nuzzled against his anus. It slid easily on the lubricant, rubbing against him teasingly.

“Mmm …” A deep voice murmured through the headphones encasing Jim's head. “An anal virgin. How I luuuuuurve them.”

The breath smelled strongly of tobacco and chewing gum.

There was nothing he could do about it. It hurt less than he expected as the skilled sodomite penetrated him. Until he felt the thing filling him up, making him feel physically stuffed and stretching his tender ring.

“Mmmm …. See. Easy Jimmy. Feel good ? Feels good to me. Course, I'm going to spew my load and you're not, so I guess it should feel better to me. Now, hold on Jimmy, we're going for a joy ride.”

For the next few minutes, Jim grimaced and grunted, as the man held him by the hips and pounded him. The feeling got physically easier as he loosened inside but it was no better mentally.

“Aaah …. mmmmm …. yesssss …..”

Jim felt a wet warmth in his guts and knew what was happening. He screwed his eyes shut in shame. After a few moments he felt a weight on his back as his assailant pushed himself up, and the cock slid out slowly.

“Welcome chicken.” The voice said. “They say you always love your first. Well, I'm afraid you won't know who I am. Yet. But I'll tell you something. I'm bisexual. And this afternoon, you're going to see a whole lot more guys with your lady Jane. And one of them's gonna be me !”

Jim felt a hard spank on his bottom, then heard the distinct click of a lighter and smelt the acrid fumes of a lit cigarette.

“One day soon I'm going to bugger you and your missus side by side. You just think on that while my spunk dribbles out of your butt.”

*** *** ***

The dungeon was actually one of several small ‘interrogation rooms' under Brutus and Stella's main house. It had rough brick walls with an iron door and a concrete floor. The room was equipped with bright overhead strip lights, CCTV, a heavy wooden rack, a flogging bench, and numerous hooks, pulleys, winches and ropes connected to the walls, ceiling and floor. Against one wall, a huge armoire cupboard contained every sort of punishment device.

The two young guards left Rebecca with jovial smiles and jocular teasing. Both of them had fucked her in the past and they were amused to see her given this opportunity. They gave her a couple of tips about what men really don't like being done to their genitals. She promised to let them help her train Camilla some time if Brutus gave his permission.

Ian was stretched out on the wooden rack, naked, every sinew straining. His wrists and ankles were chained to the circular ratchets at the head and foot of the rack. Leather straps round his neck, waist and each thigh then held him almost completely immobile.

Meanwhile, Camilla was hanging by her wrists from the ceiling, standing on tip toe, only the final half inch of her toes reaching the floor. But she had a perfect view of her husband.

Rebecca was eating a cereal bar that trainers were given for energy. She took tiny bites, rolling the flavours round her mouth, relishing every piece. She grinned at Camilla. Then went to the cupboard and removed a set of steel tweezers.

*** *** ***

BJ sat drinking his beer watching Diana and Donnie in the classic 69 position, with her on top licking along the shaft of her husband's cock, while he lapped at her cunt through the slit in her ‘ouvert' knickers from below. BJ's erection jutted from his belly. After a few minutes of her sucking him, he had pushed her away and ordered the husband and wife team to perform for him. He liked teasing himself, for a few minutes, just to gain an idea what it must be like for the frustrated slaves.

“Don't you dare make him come.” He said, poking at the back of Diana's head. Then he walked to her feet and admired the curve of her spine and her unblemished back. He sunk onto the edge of the water bed and slid his erection under the v of her sexy, lingerie clad thighs.

“Feed my dick into your wife's cunt.” He said to Donnie.

BJ felt fingers first fumbling, and then sliding his erection into her warm, moist velvet pouch.

She gasped and gave a little shudder.

“Keep licking her.” He leaned down and instructed Donnie. “Now guys, this is what I call a threesome !”

*** *** ***

The cameras were rolling in Studio 5. Brutus Senior had written the script and delegated the actual camerawork and production to one of his two professional directors. The movie was called “Dental Gang Rape III.” It was about a trio of dentists who assaulted female patients. The first two in the series had sold well. Brutus always milked a good idea.

The ‘patient' was in a dentist's chair. It was tipped back and her neck, biceps, forearms and ankles were taped tight to the structure, rendering her helpless. The three dentists wore white coats and masks but they were naked below the waist. The coats were undone and the white masks were askew. One man was stood between the woman's thighs jack-hammering his cock into her. She was dressed in a typical suburban mom outfit, tight skinny rib jumper, a short skirt, and low heels. Her skirt had been hitched up around her waist, and her jumper dragged up over her boobs, revealing a lace bra.

While one dentist fucked her, the other two were stood around her head, armed with a dental drill and a tray of shining surgical implements. One was holding her ears tightly in his hands to keep her head still while the other was attacking her gums with the drill, her mouth held wide open by an ‘o' ring gag. He would have used her hair but she was wearing a wig to hide the shaved brunette stubble.

The ‘actress' was Susannah, paying another small part of her punishment.

Behind the cameras, a crew comprising the director, two cameramen, a sound technician, make-up artist, and several others, were watching the action. Some were watching directly, others were watching it on the screen, pointing out various details, drinking coffee, laughing, chatting.

Of course, the majority of buyers of the DVD would assume that the dentistry action was faked. And they would think that the close ups of actual drilling were done on a stand-in actress protected by anaesthetic injections. Mind you, if that were the case, the viewer would think that the effects and the acting were of a much higher calibre than you would normally expect in porn movies. The actress who was playing the ‘patient' was truly convincing as she lay helpless in the dentist's chair, staring up frantically into the overhead lights. Watching her, you would have thought she was not some porn actress, and really was hating being banged by three dentists one after the other, while several of her back teeth were actually being drilled and then filled without any anaesthetic.

*** *** ***

Ian winced again and hissed courageously as Rebecca wrenched out a dozen pubic hairs at once. She had used the tweezers as a fork with pasta, gripping one and then coiling hairs round the prongs like spaghetti. She had begun on his scrotum, denuding his balls hair by hair until they were gone. That was the easy part. It would take too long to remove the pubic hairs round his cock individually, so she used the trick she had seen the guards use on new arrivals. Once she got up a rhythm, it was easy to pull out small clumps every few seconds, ripping them off and then running her fingers along the tweezers to clean off the hairs. The floor around her looked like a hair dressers or barbers with little mounds of hair at her feet.

At the moment, Ian's groin resembled a ‘cartoon character bad hair wreck', made up of red bald patches dimpled with tiny spots of blood, occasional stray tufts and a small area on the opposite side of where Rebecca stood that she hadn't reached yet. It took only a few more minutes and he was effectively hairless.

Next, she used the old fashioned cut throat razor to complete the job, running it over the raw skin to shave away the last follicles and leave him as bald there as the proverbial baby's bum. She splashed a lemon juice and onion cologne over his skin to cleanse and purify the crimson flesh.

He howled at the sting and at last the tears came, as his hips jerked a fraction of an inch up and down, the most his bonds would allow. Tears spouted from his eyes and dribbled down the side of his temples.

Rebecca stood back to admire her work, looking into his damp eyes.

She ran a teasing finger along his shrunken penis. Camilla was watching them. Rebecca winked and leaned forward to encase Ian's cock with her soft, skilled lips. She kept her eyes on Camilla's as she used her tongue and smiled in satisfaction as she felt him bit by bit responding to her ministrations. Slowly but surely the helpless cock thickened in her mouth until it was full sized. She let her mouth slide off it and revealed her success to Camilla, wiping a thin string of drool from her lips.

It was a good size, not huge like some she'd come across these past months, but thick and maybe seven inches or so in length. Somehow, without any hairs to nestle in, it looked bigger. She slid a finger along the shaft watching it twitch and then slowly eased the foreskin back fully to reveal the sensitive, aubergine coloured crown.

“Mmm …” she murmured, in appreciation. “A nice fat target.”

Rebecca walked to the armoire cupboard and selected a wide, flat plastic whip, similar to an 18 inch ruler. She grinned and swished it through the air, enjoying the whistle.

“Let's start with twenty, shall we ?” she said.

Whooooosh ! Crack.

The whip landed on the middle of the shaft making it bounce delightfully and a red mark appeared.

Ian grunted and mumbled a no sound, shaking his head.

Whooooosh ! Crack.

This time the whip landed on the undefended crown.

Ian screamed, shaking his head from side to side, desperately trying to move his body but unable to.

Rebecca put her left index finger to her lips in a ‘ssh' gesture. She took a step back and raised the whip higher.

Whoooooooooshhh ! Splat.

This time the whip landed in amongst Ian's balls on his scrotum.

He gasped for air, momentarily unable to scream, and then wailed.

“Whoops.” Rebecca giggled. “Sorry. I haven't had any practice with this thing. I'll get better, I promise.”

Whoooooooooooooosshh ! Crack.

Whooooooooooooooosshh ! Crack.

Whoooooooooooooooosshh ! Splat.

Whooooooooooooooooosshh ! Crack.

Whooooooooooooooooosshh ! Crack.

Whoooooooooooooooooosshh ! Splat.

Whooooooooooooooooooosshh ! Crack.

At ten, half way, she stopped to inspect the target zone. Although still almost full length, his erect shaft had softened somewhat. The skin was hot to the touch. She ran a fingernail on to the dried up crown, making him flinch. Ian was groaning and retching, his features contorted.

“Pl … ease Rebecca, I implore y … you,” he gasped.

“My name is not Rebecca, now. It is Trainer. Or Mistress.” Rebecca felt a shiver of delight at using that term to describe herself.

She realised, with sudden clarity, that she was born to this.

*** *** ***

“She was born to this, you know.” Said Brutus, sipping his coffee. He was watching the scene in the dungeon below on a big plasma monitor.

Stella nodded distractedly, not looking at him.

“Mmm.” She mumbled in agreement, her own gaze firmly fixed on the other monitor, which was displaying a live feed of the brothel where Jane was being ‘triple teamed' for the first time.

The two of them were sat at each end of the huge couch in the library where they had met with Rhino earlier. It was a private but spacious room, which formed the link between their bedroom suite, their private dining room and Brutus's office. They often retired here in the afternoons, to relax and discuss, plan and plot, away from the noise and bustle of the Compound.

‘One', the 25 year old male who was Stella's personal slave, had served them coffee. He was now stood in the corner of the room, desperately pumping his flaccid cock and stroking his balls. Earlier, Stella had fed him one of the new tablets, a Droopy, to test whether it would completely prevent him from getting an erection for a week or so. It seemed very likely that it would !

But Stella had lost interest in him. She was staring at the monitor, at Jane, and stroking behind the ears of one of her four dogs. His name was Hamlet. A magnificent, 5 year old, black coated Great Dane, who stood 36 inches high and weighed 220 pounds. His huge frame was curled up between them on the couch, his long pointed, alert ears the only sign he was not fast asleep.

Brutus smiled at her. “Penny for your thoughts ?”

Stella snatched herself out of her daydream. She smiled back at him.

“Oh, nothing …”

He wagged a finger at her, teasing. “You're planning something for the next part, aren't you ?”

END OF PART FOUR

Author's Note

Part Five is planned for posting by end November. Meanwhile, the story of Lara and Gemma will mainly continue in a separate post, scheduled for early November 2005. Also, look out for ‘Transfer of Powers', a re-write of a consensual short story that I wrote for myself some time ago, that will be posted as a whole. To all those who've helped with comments so far, many thanks. Feedback and Suggestions by email are still welcome.