AFTER THE PESTILENCE

THE STORY SO FAR

by velvetglove

Introduction

“Beware the iron fist hidden inside a velvet glove”

Parts One to Three have already been posted separately. This is a slightly revised version (mainly correction of some typo's and deleting the introductory comments at the start of each part) of the whole story to date, for those who have not read Parts One and Two.

‘After the Pestilence' is a work of fiction, set in the near future. The Story contains non-consensual scenes of sex, humiliation and moderate violence. It does not contain snuff or mutilation scenes or characters under 18. The Author abhors all forms of brutality and rape in reality and only enjoys fantasies of extreme control and humiliation reinforced by the threat of violence, featuring reasonably credible characters, albeit in a ‘tongue in cheek' context. It is only a sex story written in spare time with no serious plotting, characterisation or literary pretensions. However, the story is narrated from both the dominants and victims' viewpoints and it attempts to give an insight into the motives of the former and the mental sufferings of the latter.

The Auction

“Lot Seventeen”.

The auctioneer glanced over his half-spectacles at the couple momentarily, then back at the audience, before reading out the summary from the digital catalogue. He spoke in a semi-bored monotone, accustomed as he was to selling off between fifty and a hundred Lots a day to the highest bidder.

“A married couple. No children. Him, James, age 31, 5 feet 10 inches, a trained accountant. No other discernible skills. Her, Jane, age 27, but Birthday tomorrow I see, so almost 28. 5 feet 6 inches, a housewife, some experience working in a department store. No other skills that we know of.”

He looked up at the audience briefly and smiled. “Married to each other for 5 years. No previous spouses. Both declared bankrupt yesterday. Debts of 12,452 Credits. Being sold by the State for anything over a reserve price of 12,500 Credits. So, who's going to be the new Owner who will give this nice young lady a nice Birthday present tomorrow ? Shall we start the bidding at, say, 13,000 ?”

“Let's see her tits.” A member of the audience called out.

The auctioneer paused, nodded, and a thick-set male assistant grabbed the woman's cotton shift at the neckline and pulled it asunder, exposing her pale, ample breasts and pink nipples for inspection.

“And her cunt.” Another male voice shouted from the back.

The auctioneer paused, considering. “When I have a bid of 13,000, then you can see all of her.”

“Thirteen thousand.”

An opening bid. The same assistant quickly ripped the woman's cotton skirt away, before she could resist. She blushed scarlet and tried to move her hands in front of her body but he slapped them away.

Forty or so pairs of eyes appraised her. Many of the audience were skilled “Flesh Traders”. She was nice looking, with a pretty face, blue eyes, straggly blonde hair from her night in the cells, curvaceous, probably D cup tits, flat stomach, decent legs, a triangle of light coloured pubic hair. She would scrub up well as a domestic maid or sex slave. She was probably worth 10,000 Credits on her own.

“Let's see the boy too.” Called out a female voice.

“Give me a bid of 14,000 first.” Replied the auctioneer smiling.

The audience waited in silence, sizing each other up. Nobody wanted to pay too much. The male wasn't worth very much as a labourer.

“Fourteen thousand.”

A new bidder.

The man didn't resist as the assistant, armed with an electric prod, tore off the prison-grey cotton shirt and shorts he was wearing. He was less attractive than his wife but okay looking, brown hair and eyes, moderate build, apparently fit, but underweight and lightly muscled from lack of food and working behind a desk, with a soft, shrivelled, frightened penis and only a small amount of body hair. Most bidders at this auction were interested in strong men for manual work.

Nobody spoke.

“Any advance on 14,000 ?” asked the auctioneer. “Come on, you'll get many years good work out of this pair. Or you can keep her and put him up for resale. He'll fetch a tidy sum on his own.”

The audience laughed at the auctioneer's optimism.

“Fourteen five hundred.” Called out a new bidder. A female voice.

The auctioneer grinned and his eyes roved the room hopefully. But within a few seconds he knew that was it. There were thirty three more Lots to go this morning and 14,500 was a fair price for this pair.

“Any advance on fourteen five ?” he asked. “Going once … going twice …. Gone. Sold to ..” he glanced up at the female bidder's card, “Buyer Account 362.”

Within seconds, the couple had been marched away to their new life.

“Lot Eighteen.” said the auctioneer, turning to the digital catalogue.

*** *** ***

The year was 2008. After the Great Pestilence of 2006 and the subsequent Depression, when global Stock, Property and Commodity Markets crashed, the World's largest Economies had each undergone different Revolutions. Some became Military Dictatorships, others so-called People's Republics, other had returned to a Feudal Dark Age of the “haves” and “have nots”. Northern Europe – comprising the Scandinavian countries, much of Germany, the northern half of France, the Benelux Region, and all of Great Britain – had formed the ‘Northern Alliance', ruled by unelected bureaucrats from the old city of Bruxelles. 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 as the State could no longer afford to provide any form of pension, unemployment or social welfare. Severe punishments were introduced for all crimes, especially stealing, and the penalty for bankruptcy was Slavery for life. In that way, it was hoped, that the their new owners would pay off the debts of the bankrupts and then feed, house and provide them with work instead of the State. And, in a way, the new system worked. It flourished best in the region of England.

Of course, in such a jungle, there were winners and losers. Two such winners were a husband and wife team who had been small time film producers before the Great Pestilence. Porno film makers. They had made a modest living but the costs soaked up most of the income. Brutus held the camera and Stella handled the finance and contracts. But as stocks, property and commodities plummeted, and numerous industries like Steel and Cars, Technology and Construction collapsed, it was the black market basics of food and loan sharking that stayed afloat. And, even in such troubled times, people still wanted Sex.

By a series of deals, lubricated by bribes to corrupt bureaucrats, Brutus and Stella built up a large Sex empire. They owned 66% of The Brute Corporation and 34% had been sold to a variety of state and private “backers”. The Corporation's income was based mainly on the staples of films and TV, magazines and prostitution. Because desperate women, and men, were prepared to sell their bodies to avoid starvation and bankruptcy, six weeks after the Economic Recovery Act, the Northern Alliance State bureaucrats passed a new Act on February 14 th 2008, known as the “Valentines Act”, that forbade any form of prostitution without a Licence. In effect, people could not prostitute themselves until they became bankrupt. The penalty for unlicensed prostitution before bankruptcy was a life sentence of slavery. So, one way or another, only those with a Prostitution Licence could reap the rewards.

Brutus and Stella now owned over 200 slaves, acquired over seven months at an average of about one a day. The best were used in films and photo shoots as unpaid ‘stars', the rest were available for rent by the bureaucrats, food magnates, money lenders and other ‘survivors' who had the cash to spend. A few females were used for “breeding” by men or couples who wanted children without hassle. A few were used for specialist activities that only fee-paying members of Brutus and Stella's Private Club could attend. Of the 200 slaves, about 150 were female and 50 male, mainly husband and wife combinations.

The Journey

It was Stella who had paid 14,500 Credits for the couple who made up Lot 17. They hadn't recognised her as she sat in the audience behind the harsh glare of the auction stage lights. But she had recognised them. They were a young couple from the same social circle as Brutus and Stella, although she hadn't seen them for 6 months, since they moved away to seek employment. Stella remembered the snooty girl once at a drinks party giving her the cold shoulder when the subject of Stella's business had come up, frowning at a woman in the porn movie business. And the wet accountant husband making a face when Stella lit a cigarette next to him, muttering that those things will kill you.

There was little that Stella enjoyed more than introducing such people to the harsh new facts of life. She had a collection of them. She'd bought them at Auction. A school teacher of hers she hadn't liked, who was now aged 48, and she spent fourteen hours a day on her back, front and knees entertaining up to 28 teenage boys a day. Stella had her permanently working in the brothel at “special offer” of 0.1 Credits per half hour, a price even the most hungry kid could usually run to. She had an ex-girlfriend of Brutus, now aged 37, who had carved out a profitable new career for herself as a film starlet. The only thing was her co-stars were always animals and all the profits went to Stella and Brutus. Another was an ex-boyfriend of Stella's, a real jerk, who had now got over his homophobic tendencies by entertaining homosexuals in large groups, when he wasn't acting in gay movies. There were others. And these two would now join them.

*** *** ***

Jim gasped with relief when he saw Stella. He thought he had recognised her voice from somewhere. He nudged Jane alongside him. The woman who had bought them was a friend of a friend. They'd met her a while back quite a few times. Surely she was going to help them, after all. Maybe she needed an accountant ? He remembered she'd been in porn films. But they needed their accounts done too, didn't they ?

He smiled nervously at Stella. She smiled back.

“Jim, isn't it ?”

“Y .. yes. That's right. And Jane.”

“Oh yes, Jane. Hallo.”

“Hallo.” Jane replied cautiously.

Stella took out a pack of cigarettes, lit one and exhaled.

“They haven't got me yet.” She said, holding up the cigarette to him, still smiling, before taking another drag.

Jim shrugged. “I guess not.” He suddenly glanced down, aware of his nudity, and Jane's naked body beside him. He felt himself blush.

Stella shrugged back. “Let's go.”

She led them outside of the Auction House. Cars were rare. Most people travelled by cart, horse and donkey. Stella's trap was parked nearby. It was a light two-seater with a set of leather straps and harnesses. There was no sign of any animal. Many of the carts were pulled by humans.

Jim paused.

Stella stared at him. “Jim,” she said, still smiling but with cold eyes, “I have purchased you both. That means I can do as I like with you. Resist and I can have you whipped, punished, even electrocuted. Understood ?”

He gulped and nodded, aware that next to him, Jane had begun to cry.

“Pl…ease…” he began.

Stella unsheathed an electric prod from her belt. She stared at him.

“Okay…” he mumbled, “I'm sorry.”

She fastened him into the right harness first. Leather straps around his waist, between his legs, and a second set over his shoulders and under his arms, connecting behind his back. She clicked a steel eye-bolt into another eye-bolt at the end of the leash running to the cart.

Then she fastened Jane into the left harness. Again, round her waist and between her legs, and a second set over her shoulders, criss-crossed between her pronounced cleavage and then under her arms to her back. She was similarly fastened to the leash running to the cart.

Stella went to the luggage box in the back of the cart and removed two head-sets and handcuffs. She locked their wrists together behind their backs and then planted the leather head-sets on Jim's and his wife's heads. They were like firm helmets, with blinkers on each side so that Jim could only stare straight ahead and a tight steel chain that ran over his teeth, holding his mouth open, like a bit.

Stella stood in front of them both. Her smile now a smirking grin. Jim wanted to punch her in the face. She sensed his angry rebellion.

“Save your energy, Jim.” She said to him. “It's a long old journey to your new home. It's a hot day and I want you both to trot so we get there quickly.”

Jim turned his head and watched her reach out and handle Jane's bare, defenceless breasts. She tugged on each nipple and then removed two heavy pink steel spheres, the size of table tennis balls, from a pocket. Each sphere had a clip. Stella seized Jane's right breast and attached the clip to the nipple.

“Aaaahh…nggah..” Jane squealed, and several passers-by in the street looked on, laughing.

“This pink is my stable colour. You will wear it with pride.” With that, she fastened the second sphere to Jane's left breast. “I must warn you, slut, that if either of these babies falls off during the journey, then I have an extra special one that attaches to your clit. I will spare you that one today if you are good.”

Jim saw Jane's lip trembling, her eyes watering with tears as she nodded.

Stella moved directly in front of him and roughly turned his face forwards. She delved into another pocket and removed a larger pink sphere, the size of a tennis ball. It had no clip but thin leather loops and a buckle instead. She nodded at him.

“That's right. It goes here.”

Roughly, she pushed his penis, still tiny with fear, aside and buckled the heavy steel sphere around his scrotum, tight so that his balls took the weight. “That won't fall off,” she said to him, “but if it does you don't want to think about the extra special one I have instead for you.”

He felt the cart lurch as she climbed in. And then a long whip cracked the air inches above his back.

“Gidyap !” he heard. “Pull.”

Jim pulled and he felt Jane tugging too. With relief, he realised it was a well sprung cart. It began to move behind them. He pulled harder.

“Faster !” she shouted. “Trot.”

The whip cracked again and this time the fierce tip caught him across the shoulder blade. It felt like hot coal. He wanted to turn and shout at her. Attack her. But his hands were tied and he was helpless. He lifted his legs and pulled, dragging the cart forward with a surge. He kept trotting and sensed Jane trotting too beside him. The weight on his balls was uncomfortable but it didn't hurt. Yet. Under his feet the dried mud road was rutted and dusty. Tears welled up in his eyes. But he still ran.

*** *** ***

Stella smiled and sat back in the cart. They would average about four miles an hour and her compound was ten miles outside the city. At the half way point, in what remained of a burnt out town, there was an “Inn” and watering hole. The next bit of fun could wait until then.

The Editing Suite

Brutus sat in his editing suite. Between his legs, a gorgeous new slave was sucking his cock ever so gently. He didn't want to come. Yet. With luck, he might hold out for Stella's arrival. She got stroppy if he never had any energy left for her. She had her favourites for oral sex but Stella never allowed any other man to fuck her but Brutus. And that was how he liked it too. So the least he could do was save up some of his juice for her every other day or so. She let him fuck female slaves but preferred it if he used their mouths and arses most of the time. That was what he liked most too.

He lifted himself onto one buttock and farted loudly. He had enjoyed a heavy lunch of asparagus salad, steak, ice cream and beers. In seconds he sniffed appreciatively and glanced down. The slave was still sucking blissfully, even though he knew she was hating every second. He watched his thick, glistening cock sliding in and out of her small, stretched mouth. Brutus was 50. He knew he was no longer the woman's dream he'd been at half his age. His face was still handsome in a jaded way, he was quite fit, but his stomach was large, his head was bald and all of his hair seemed to have been transplanted down to his hirsute belly and groin. Stella still fancied him, she said, but he guessed she was the only one. Not that he cared any more. The young darling between his legs was one of the most attractive females they'd bought and she was sucking him regardless of his hairy belly and double chin. In some ways he'd have liked to have turned them on more. He knew Stella was a sadist but Brutus thought of himself as just a horny old devil. He was merely playing the hand he'd been dealt to his best advantage. Well, maybe that was a bit of a lie. Power had corrupted him. But he still thought he had a soft centre. At heart. Deep down. And then again, who gave a fuck ?

He turned his attention back to the screens. It was a film of a young 22 year old, Gemma, a real miss prim when she'd arrived a month before, a typical library type with spectacles who wore loose clothes to hide her large tits. She was being given a ‘Bukkake Dildo' double. A popular series of films that sold in their tens of thousands, including exports, which the State loved because it earned foreign Credits. At one end the girl was taking endless loads of jism from 100 volunteers, of every age, colour and description, in her stretched mouth, and over her face, hair, spectacles, breasts and body. It had been Stella's idea to let her keep her specs on, and they were now streaked with come. While at the other end, a pair of jaded lesbians were expanding the girl's horizons, by drilling her with increasingly large, thick and colourful vibrators in her cunt and arse. Her legs were splayed uncomfortably wide and a massive shiny red machine, as thick as a forearm, was buried nine inches deep inside her distended cunt while one of the laughing lesbians put the electric rotator in the shaft on overdrive, twisting and pummelling her insides. Brutus had used five fixed cameras and two roving ones to get every angle, close up and wide shot, so that he could then edit it to his usual high standards.

He snapped his fingers and the male slave stepped forward with a tray, on which was Brutus's beer, ashtray and cigars. The slave was a handsome lad, tall and muscular, just married, naked except for a steel chastity cage that tightly encased what Brutus knew was a good-sized cock. A cock that Brutus also knew would most likely never again fuck, and rarely, if ever, even spurt its juice again. He took his beer can and drained it.

“What do you think ?” he asked, belching the beer, looking down between his thighs at the gorgeous, slurping female slave. Her name was Lavinia. She was a brunette, with fashion model features, lovely soulful brown eyes, with perfect high, quite small tits, a slim but curvy body.

“I … d…don't know, Master…I ..”

Brutus guffawed. “What do you mean, you don't know ? You see a nice young tart giving a middle aged guy head, what do you think ? Sexy, eh?”

“I .. yes, Master. Yes, it is.”

Between his legs Lavinia pretended to ignore the conversation, although Brutus could tell the bitch was taking in every word.

“You like her to blow you after she's done me, would you ?”

The young man stared. Only ten days earlier, he'd been free, in love.

“Y …yes, Master, yes please.”

Brutus pretended to consider the idea. “Did she ever blow you before ?”

A tear rolled down the man's cheek. “Yes ….well, not like that, Master, more just a kind of foreplay .. before sex I mean … never a blow job.”

Brutus laughed. “Well then you missed your fucking chance then !”

The man's face crumpled, his gaze dropped to the floor.

“Let me tell you what's going to happen, mate. I like your missus here. I think she kind of likes me by the look of it. So I'm going to keep her as one of my favourites for a while, a month or two minimum. And I'm going to keep you around too. You're going to watch and assist as I introduce her to all the things she's been missing married to a wuss like you. Some things she'll enjoy, like fucking and sucking and anal. I mean enjoy relatively. But other things she won't. But you'll encourage her. Pimp her. To drink my piss. Lick my arse. And you will ask her to piss in your mouth too, ask her to let you lick my jizz out of her box, she'll restrain and cane you, and ream your back door with a big dildo.”

Brutus glanced down at the man's wife sucking him, unable to keep the shocked, humiliated expression off her face. He winked at her.

“And eventually, I will share her. But not with you, hubby boy. I'll keep you about for a while so that you can help me select lots of lovers for her to demonstrate her new skills on. How does that sound, eh ? Deal ?”

It was amazing how even the big, muscular ones almost never fought.

“Deal ?” Brutus bellowed.

The boy looked at him through red, watering eyes. “D ..deal, Master.”

Brutus pushed the young wife off his erection.

“Those beers went straight through me. You. Put down that tray and hold my cock. You.” He said to her. “Mouth wide open.”

The two slaves exchanged resigned, petrified glances. They obeyed.

“Now,” Brutus chuckled, as the boy held his thick glistening cock. “Aim it ! And if you don't get most of it in her mouth, and if you don't guzzle most of it down, you'll both ride the electric horse with dildoes in your arseholes for half an hour.”

A friend of Brutus always joked that a piss when you needed it was better than an orgasm when you didn't. He relaxed and released his bladder. Whoever said you couldn't piss with an erection hadn't tried hard enough. It was just a question of the angle. And lots of practice. A jet of hot piss shot out and splattered young Lavinia's beautiful face. In a moment, her husband had redirected Brutus's cock to aim the flow into her mouth. Oh yeah. The colour was tinged green, the stink thick with the asparagus he guzzled for lunch, the fetid taste he knew would be acrid and foul. Her mouth quickly filled and then it overflowed her lips.

“Swallow bitch. Hurry.”

She swallowed, gasped and then opened her mouth wide again. Six times it filled, bubbled over and she swallowed, until finally Brutus ran dry.

He swatted her husband's grip away from his cock. “Man, your missus makes a good lavatory. I shall make frequent use of her. And if you do anything wrong over the coming weeks, just one little thing, then I shall make proper use of her too. You know what that means ?”

“I … er …no Master …” The young man shook his head.

“It means I shall dump in her mouth.” Brutus smiled at their horrified faces. “That's right. The big number two. Her fate is in your hands.”

There was a pause. “Y ..yes, Master.”

Suddenly Brutus switched tone, teasing them. “Aah, come on. It's not that bad. Life here can be a lot worse. You're the lucky ones. You're still together. You're in love. Kneel down and kiss your missus. Go on.”

Brutus pushed back his seat so that the two slaves could face each other on their knees. He reached and pushed their heads together. Their chests. Their lips. Their tear-stained eyes.

“Mmm. That's it. Lick my piss from her face. Clean her up. Tell you what. What was your wife called ?”

“L … Lavinia, Master.”

“Lavinia. Nah. Doesn't suit her. Let's rename her. From now on, we'll call her Lavatory instead. Go on, tell Lavatory you love her.”

Grimacing with shame, the male slave said. “I …lo …love you.”

Brutus cuffed his ear. “Use her name, damn it !”

“I love y…you, L ..Lavatory.”

Brutus smiled down at them both.

Then, almost as if the past five minutes hadn't happened, Brutus dismissed her husband back to the corner with the tray and gestured for Lavinia to get back to her job between his legs, as he began editing the movie on the bank of screens in front of him.

The Inn

After ninety long, hot minutes, Stella's cart arrived at the Inn. A dozen carts were tethered outside, some pulled by horse or donkey, others by humans. Several single horses were also tied to a rail and two beaten up old cars were parked nearby.

Stella docked her buggy whip and clambered down from the cart. She smiled at the two broken, glistening bodies, heaving with effort and gasping for breath. They had managed to trot about half the distance, and walked the rest at various speeds, having each vomited several times from the effort. They were filthy with dust and scratches, with several livid welts from the whip across their shoulders and backs. Without a word, she went into the Inn. The bartender and several acquaintances greeted her. She ordered a coffee and a juice and lit a cigarette.

“How's things, Stella ?” asked the barman. “New purchases ?”

She nodded outside. “Yes, Frank. Got any water for them ?”

Frank grinned. “Sure.” He was a short, round faced, cheerful man.

“Have a couple of the lads fetch in the female will you ?”

A minute later, two teenage boys led Jane in by her harness. All eyes in the bar turned to the new arrival. Their faces grinned. Stella took a bowl from Frank and placed it on the end of a long, sturdy wooden table. The water was warm, brackish and unpleasant.

“Drink.” She ordered.

Jane paused only a moment and then bent at the waist and put her cracked dry lips to the water. She paused again then lapped. Several people gathered round to watch close up. Smiling, a grizzled unshaven man lent over and slowly drooled a rope of saliva into the bowl. Jane looked up at him in disgust and stopped drinking.

Stella shrugged and lifted the bowl away. “Had enough ? I'd have thought you'd be thirstier after that long journey. Obviously I was wrong.”

Jane's eyes darted backwards and forwards in alarm. “I …”

Everybody laughed.

“Remove her lower harness, lads.”

Quickly, the two teenagers unbuckled the leather strap from around Jane's waist and between her legs, casting it to the floor.

“Up on the table with her.” Stella said.

Hands grabbed the tired, defenceless woman and manhandled her up onto the refectory table, twisting her over on her back, face up.

“If her mouth isn't thirsty, maybe her cunt is ?”

A cheer went up.

“Frank,” Stella continued, “I'm afraid I haven't got my Credit book with me. How much for my coffee, juice and the water ?”

Frank undid his belt. “How about a quick fuck for me and, say, five of my mates ?”

Stella made a face. “Five ? That's a bit pricey. I'm in a hurry. How about we settle on you and your two lads ?”

Frank's pants were down and his cock already stiff. “Done.”

He spat on a couple of fingers and wiped them over Jane's dry labia. She fought as best she could but physically exhausted and held by six pairs of hands, she never had a chance. In seconds, the barman had eased his cockhead between her lips and thrust himself inside.

“Aaaggh.” Jane complained, snarling, thrashing her head.

Frank took a firm grip on the pink balls still clipped to each of her heavy tits, which were well presented and rubbed raw by the leather upper harness. He flicked the balls manically from side to side sniggering. Other hands held her, semi-roughly, semi-fondling.

Stella bent over so that her mouth was inches from her new slave's ear.

“Welcome to your new life, Jane dear. Fun isn't it ?”

Stella shivered with delight at the look of pure hatred Jane gave her. She loved a fighter. They were so much more interesting.

“Now, you've had a few moments to get used to it. From now on, I want you to give Frank here a nice fuck instead. I want you to make all the effort. Thrust upwards. Squeeze your cunt. Lots of nice moaning. Bring Frank off inside you or I'll rethink that price of just two more.”

Jane stared. Frank had stopped pumping her and was just gently rocking his cock backwards and forwards, grinning down into her face.

“Lend me your electric prod, will you ?” Stella said to an onlooker who quickly passed it over. Stella flicked it out expertly and turned on the power. She smiled and held it to Jane's right tit.

“Aaggh !” Jane screamed again.

“Fuck !” Frank laughed. “That was amazing. Her cunt muscles tightened like a vice round my dick. Do it again.” Everybody smiled.

“Again ?” Stella asked Jane.

“N …no…pl…se.”

“Okay, then. Let's fuck shall we ? Like we love Frank.”

Slowly, Jane began to rock, and push upwards. Frank withdrew his stubby cock almost to the mouth of her cunt so that a few people could see it, then slammed it back in, producing a groan from Jane.

“That's it.” Stella said, mock-encouragingly. “Some appreciative moans.”

Despite her obvious exhaustion, Jane's body managed to switch into automatic overdrive. She pushed to meet Frank's thrusts, his flesh slapping against hers, and she moaned like a willing wife.

Stella pushed one of the teenage lads forward. “Take off your pants, lad. Ever had your arse licked before ?”

The boy shook his head and was stripped in seconds. To cheers from the audience, he clambered onto the table above the woman's head and crouched with his buttocks over her face, facing away from Frank.

Stella leaned close to Jane's ear and smiled.

“Something to keep your mouth occupied. Bite and I'll have all your teeth removed, Got that ?”

Jane slowly nodded, glancing up at the hairy young anus above her.

At that moment, Frank groaned loudly and threw his head back, grinding his teeth as he emptied his balls inside Jane's loosened vagina.

Everybody cheered and slapped him on the back as he withdrew.

In seconds, the second pimply teenager had taken his place, slipping his erection inside her now welcoming cunt. Meanwhile, his partner had lowered himself onto Jane's mouth and protruding tongue.

“Okay Jane. You've two nice young lads to look after now. I want you to moan really nicely and make it good for them. In between licks of that arse, I want you to say nice things. Ask them to fuck you and say how great that arse tastes. Understood ? Or do you want another shock ?”

“Mmmpff …” she tried to respond. “Nngg ..o.”

“Let's hear it then.”

“Mmpf .. please … mm … f…fuck me…please …mmmmm….. mmm…s…so …gooood … mmmpf….lov ..ely…arse….”

Stella smirked at the grinning audience. “Louder, bitch.”

“Please …” Jane almost shouted … “Mmmpf ..oh yes….so good …”

At that moment, four burly men from the bar marched Jane's husband Jim through the front door. He was gagged, cuffed, held tight.

“Fuck me…please, harder, yes …Mmm … arse …tastes so goood…”

Stella put her finger to her lips. Everybody carried on commenting and chuckling as normal. She so enjoyed the look on Jim's face as he confronted his wife fucking somebody else for the first time. She'd been such an up-her-own-arse-hoity-toity little bitch. Now, she was up somebody else's arse, with her tongue deep in a young lad's crack while another had his cock deep in her snooty cunt. She didn't know her beloved husband was watching.

“Mmmpf … oh yes, fuck yes, ….mmm…goood …love arse….”

He didn't try to struggle. He just stared as the men held him tight.

“Yes,” hissed the lad fucking her, “yesss….yesssssss !” He collapsed forward onto her big bouncing tits, adding his thick wad to the mix.

Almost reluctantly, the other lad raised his arse from her face. His buttocks shone with saliva and his cock jutted out like a flagpole.

Jane opened her eyes, raised her head, and saw her husband watching.

“Nooo.,” she wailed, “…you bastards.”

A big cheer went up. Stella grinned.

In seconds the third cock was inside and in a few moments it had erupted. Grinning with embarrassment, the teenager slid his cock out from between Jane's thighs, trailing a rope of glistening semen from the tip.

Stella walked between Jane's splayed legs and peered at the overflowing mess between them. Moisture covered her inner thighs and pubic triangle but a thick stream of white cream oozed from between her labia.

Without waiting to be asked, the four men twisted Jim's arms and brown hair so that he fell to his knees, and pushed him into position, the heavy pink ball strapped to his scrotum clattered on the wood floor.

“You have a choice, Jim lad.” Stella said. “Lick your wife's cunt clean or we'll keep on filling it up until you do. It'll be the only refreshment you get here so I would make the most of it.”

Jim tried to twist away. Without luck. He was beaten and he knew it. His head dropped. Stella grabbed his hair and pulled him close.

“Not too near. Use your tongue. Stick it out. That's it, my friends and I all want to see you lapping it. Start with her thighs and move in.”

Heads peered in to get a good view. Stella lit a cigarette and exhaled into Jim's grimacing face as he began kissing his wife's inner thighs.

“That's my boy. Get used to the taste. Mmm… delish' eh ?”

A camera flashed. Another poster for the toilet walls of the Inn.

They watched entranced as Jim slowly kissed and then moved his tongue to the thick load at the opening of his precious wife's love canal. He gagged as a marble sized dollop slid onto the end of his tongue.

“Don't waste any, Jim. Otherwise, I'm sure there's plenty more available.”

He managed to control his retch and swallowed the first mouthful. It took him another whole five minutes before Stella was satisfied.

“Right everybody. I must love you and leave you.” She announced. “Thanks very much for your assistance. If you would just help me fasten up my ponies for the second half of our journey.”

Twenty people or so helped. They fastened Jim first, back in his harness and helmet. Then they fastened Jane, buckling the lower harness back around her waist and tight up between her anus and sodden cunt.

Stella clambered aboard the cart, waving.

“Thanks, Frank.” She unsheathed the buggy whip and cracked it once, then again, over the slaves' backs. Frank and a couple of others eased the cart back from the rail and marched the ‘ponies' back a few feet, so that they could pull away.

“Gidyap, we're only half way home.”

Slowly, unable to comprehend what had just happened, one humiliated husband and one well fucked wife, trudged forwards dejectedly.

The whip cracked across their shoulders and they broke into a trot.

Gemma

Gemma squatted, eyes ahead, body steady, thighs apart, touching the ground by her side with just her fingertips. In front of her, three people were sat, sipping tea and nibbling sandwiches. She wasn't sure but she thought all three of them were members of the Government. One man was definitely an officer of the dreaded Stalitz, the secret police. The other man and the woman were some sort of bureaucrats she thought. The female was also related to Stella in some way and she had been one of the two women who had rammed larger and larger things up Gemma's orifices during the terrible film the day before, when Gemma had been the “star”, in their words, of the sick Bukkake movie. Her vagina and bottom still throbbed and she would never get rid of the overpowering smell and taste of semen in her mouth. But in her four weeks in Brutus and Stella's ownership, she had learned that there was no respite. Things could always get worse. So here she was naked, except for her glasses, squatting outside on a white marble table. Her stomach rumbled. After letting her sleep a full 8 hours after filming, they had fed and watered her with ‘specials' three times that day, and forbidden her to use the toilet. Gemma had got used to the public washrooms and being seen performing her ablutions by other slaves and guards. But that wasn't the same as squatting like this alone in front of three fully dressed people of both genders.

The young woman rose and wandered over to Gemma. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, she ran a hand over Gemma's 38D tits, down her flank, and between Gemma's widespread legs, fingering her sphincter.

“Cramp ?” she asked.

Her thighs and calves ached horribly. “No, Miss.”

The woman's sharp fingernail wormed its way up inside Gemma's anus.

“Sore ?”

Gemma shook her head very slightly. “No, Miss.”

The woman shook her head with a smirk. “Tough little bitch aren't you ?”

Gemma paused, uncertain. “N… no, Miss.”

The woman removed her fingernail, sniffed it and placed it in Gemma's mouth. Gemma licked. The woman was probably only 26 or 27, barely 5 years older than her at most. And yet she had total power. Already she had singled out Gemma for special attention on two prior visits. She was Stella's niece and a worked as some sort of corrupt local official.

“Tell me,” she asked, examining her polished red fingernail, “have you ever eaten shit before ?”

Gemma blinked and gulped. “No, Miss.” She noticed the two watching men leaning forward. The woman's aqua blue eyes narrowed and glinted like dark icebergs in the moonlight.

“Would you like to ?”

Again Gemma, paused, uncertain. “No, Miss.”

“But if you had to, you would ?”

Gemma nodded, forcing herself to reply. “Ye …. s, Miss.”

“And would you rather eat your own shit, or somebody else's ?”

Gemma couldn't take it any more. The slow verbal torture. “Please, Miss.” She begged with her eyes. “I'll do anything else….please.”
It was a mistake. She knew it as soon as the words had left her mouth. But, although the watching, heavily lipsticked, red mouth twitched, the woman remained outwardly calm.

“Of course you will. So tell us, what will you volunteer to do if I let you off a little turd munching. Something that you haven't done before. Something that excites us all even more than my idea.”

Gemma blinked again. Her ankles ached even more now. She was leaning back on her haunches, completely displayed and her arms were stiff from maintaining her balance. But worse, she had cornered herself. She knew that none of the normal sexual smorgasbord of activities and humiliations would satisfy this jaded trio. She had fucked and sucked numerous times already, been buggered, drunk piss, been caned and burned with cigarette ends, suffered bukkake parties and been tortured by over-sized dildoes. Even now, there was little else her normal 22 year old mind could imagine that she hadn't already done or had done to her. She could only think of a few terrible things she'd seen or heard about, like animals, shit and …. what else ? She shook her head.

“I'm sorry, Miss. I don't …. would you consider tattooing me ?”

The woman turned to the watching men. They all smirked.

“How about TOI on one cheek and LET on the other ?” she laughed.

Gemma dropped her eyes down to the table, trying total humility.

“Do you need to go ?” the woman asked, pushing Gemma's stomach.

“Yes, Miss.”

“Bladder and bowels ?”

“Yes, b … both, Miss.”

“Excellent.” She stepped back. “Bladder first. Hurry.”

Gemma shut her eyes. After many minutes controlling herself, she couldn't just go straightaway. The pit in her belly rumbled and her bowels ached for immediate release. It was difficult to loose her bladder without relaxing her bottom at the same time. Eventually, though, she felt her urine coming.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.”

She obeyed and watched the young woman watching her. Clearly relishing the power she held, enjoying Gemma's total humiliation. Gemma's pussy lips pouted and a stream gushed between her thighs onto the marble table. She listened to the hiss and splash and felt the warm liquid seeping between her toes.

The woman studied Gemma's expression. She fingered Gemma's knee.

“Embarrassed ?” she asked.

Gemma nodded. “Yes, Miss.” Still her full bladder kept emptying itself. She must have been going for twenty seconds and yet she felt half full.

The woman slowly ran her hand along from Gemma's knee to her labia.

“Stop.” She ordered.

With an immense effort, Gemma squeezed her bladder muscles. After one or two seconds, the flow slowed to a trickle, then finally stopped.

With an approving smile, she ran her fingers over Gemma's ‘brazilian strip of pubic hair' and teased her lips further apart. Then she raised her hand and examined the droplets of urine that covered it. Looking directly into Gemma's eyes, she tentatively licked a single drop. Her red lips turned down at the edges in a look of disgust.

“Yuk. You really drink this stuff ?”

Gemma made a face. Her legs were cramping and her bladder ached.

“Yes, Miss. When I am told to.”

Her inquisitor held out her hand for Gemma to lick. Then she fetched an empty tea cup and held it just below Gemma's middle.

“Carry on pissing. Into this.”

Gasping in relief, Gemma released the final ten seconds of her bladder's load. “Thank you, Miss.” She hoped gratitude might help her.

The woman lifted the overflowing cup to Gemma's mouth. “Drink !”

One of the other slaves had whispered to Gemma soon after her arrival that drinking piss sounded awful until you'd been confronted with eating shit. Sure, piss was foul and humiliating but it was bearable.

Gemma opened wide and the woman poured carefully. It was hot and bitter but at least it was from her own body. Gemma swallowed it down.

Then, in the background, she caught sight of one of the watching men standing and unzipping himself. He emptied the milk jug and, laughing, placed his penis in the top and began urinating.

“Seems like you've started something !” The woman joked.

*** *** ***

Stella eventually arrived back an hour late, after her new slaves collapsed and could barely pull the cart at walking pace. She dismounted and two guards took the exhausted Jim and Jane off to be processed.

The Brute Corporation compound occupied what had been an entire suburban village a few years earlier. It covered an area of about three square miles, entirely surrounded now by high brick walls topped with jagged glass, and a barbed wire perimeter fence beyond that. Inside the walls, the original village houses that were left standing had been converted to slave and guard huts, storage buildings, and movie production offices. What had once been the village Hotel was now converted into the brothel for visiting guests. The Village Hall had been turned into the main film studio compound. And, at the top of a small rise in the centre of the village, the old Manor House, with its cellars and dungeons, now belonged to Brutus and Stella. Finally, at the edge of the compound where the old fuel filling station had been, was the infamous Hell Hole.

Lara

Crossing the lawn, Stella came across Lara with two men and a female slave, who she recognised as Emma, or Gemma, or something like that. The slave was squatting on a table covered in piss. Normally Stella would have stopped to watch a while but she waved to them instead.

Lara came briskly walking over to her.

“Aunty Stell'. Can I have quick word.”

Stella pecked her niece on the cheek. “Yes ?”

“I adore that one. I'd like to buy her.”

Stella frowned. “She's not for sale at the moment, dear. Brutus is using her in a series. I can't remember what. Bukkake I think.”

Lara pouted. “Can I rent her then. Take her away from here a while.”

“I know that look.” Stella smiled. “What do you want her for ?”

“I would have thought that was obvious !”

“You can get a million bitches to lick that hot pussy of yours. Why her ?”

Lara glanced over her shoulder. “There's something about her. I want to break her down. Really get inside her head. Fuck with it.”

Stella laughed. “Sounds like you've fallen for her, Lara.”

Lara looked indignant. To fall for a slave romantically was the ultimate faux pas in the new world. “I have not.” She replied.

“I'll speak to your uncle.” Stella said with finality. “In the meantime, do what you like with her but no real damage, yeah ?”

Lara smiled. “Thanks.” Stella watched her rejoin the group.

Brutus was lying on their enormous double bed. He was sporting an erection and a huge smile. Three slaves were ‘entertaining him'. They were the young couple, Lavatory and Bidet - as he had renamed her husband - and Stella's personal slave, known simply as One, a very pretty young man in his mid-twenties. One was allowed by Stella to live without a chastity device most of the time. She preferred him to control himself. There were hidden camera lenses in every corner of every room in the main house and throughout the compound. There would be no second chance. If he once masturbated himself or orgasmed without permission, he would be castrated and banished to the Hell Hole for the remainder of his days. But he was often allowed to participate in activities and to get an erection. One was stood, legs apart and smiling, while Bidet was on his knees having his first cock sucking lesson. Lavinia, now Lavatory, was next to her husband, on her knees at the end of the bed licking Brutus's toes one by one. Stella smiled at the scene as she walked in.

Brutus patted the bed alongside him. “At last you're back. Come here, my love.”

She walked over and pecked his cheek. “Quick shower first.”

He grabbed her and pulled her onto the bed. “Shower ?” She giggled and kissed him. “We've got human showers to clean us.” He said. “One ! Get your cock out of that bitch's mouth and come here and tongue bathe your Mistress.”

In a flash, the young man was on the bed undressing Stella, kissing her dusty body in long sweeping licks as he went. She lay back and let it happen. In truth, after the afternoon's events, her pussy was on fire. Moist and ready. She nodded at the other two slaves questioningly.

“Meet Lavatory and Bidet. My new personal favourites.” He said.

“I knew you wouldn't be able to resist her when I bought her.”

Brutus smiled and kissed Stella's face.

“I love it when you get jealous. Do you like her new name ?”

Stella kissed him back, her tongue vibrant, as One gently eased her remaining clothes off. Brutus kicked Lavatory away from his toes.

“Come here.” He snarled.

Lavatory rushed to the side of the bed. Her pert breasts quivered.

“Lie flat on the bed. Head at the bottom. That's it.” She lay down with her dainty feet at the pillow end, face upwards, looking nervous.

Brutus pushed One out of the way as well and gently lifted his wife so that she was kneeling alongside Lavatory's prone naked body.

Kissing Stella tenderly, Brutus lifted her thigh and arranged her so that she was astride Lavatory's face, then he eased her down so that her buttocks fell squarely onto the young woman's perfect little nose.

He gazed deep into Stella's eyes.

“That is what I think of her compared with you, my love.” He said, lowering his body and at last burying his pent up erection inside Stella in one slick motion. “Mmm …” He paused, savouring the feeling. “She may be young, she may be gorgeous, but she's a slave who's fit only to lick your arse. This,” he fondled Stella's thigh, “is my preferred pussy and it always will be.”

Stella gave him her tongue again. “She may … be fit to lick it, but … she's not doing it.”

Brutus thrust down hard. “You hear that bitch ? Lick !”

Stella felt the soft, wetness in her bottom. Sensory overload. She smiled at One who was watching intently. Stella liked an audience. A frustrated audience. She knew this wasn't going to last long. She could feel herself building already. And Brutus was not going to be far behind. For a minute or so their bodies moved in sensuous loving rhythm, rare for a place where most of the sex was brutal, unloving, unpredictable.

“Mmm … I love you.” She whispered in his ear.

Brutus stared down at her, his expression pre-orgasmic. “Me too.”

Stella had married Brutus when she was only 18 and a virgin. In spite of a life in the sex industry, he remained the only man she had loved, and who she had ever made love to, in terms of penetrative sex. She was strangely proud of herself resisting all temptation, being faithful to one man. It was one of the reasons she enjoyed whoring other wives, denying them the fidelity she herself valued so much. She would have preferred Brutus to be faithful to her too but that was unrealistic. In fact, she secretly thrilled watching him anally and orally abusing some new tart. He had been married briefly before he met Stella and had sired a child, Brutus Junior. In honour of the son, Stella had spared Brutus's ex-wife, but she had tracked down every one of his other previous steady girlfriends and all were either already hard at work in the compound or on her target list. She could share Brutus's body and cock but not his heart and mind.

They came together. Brutus triggered her. She pushed down onto the bitch's tongue and then thrust up onto her husband, mashing her clitoris against him, and she was over the edge, climaxing in waves.

The Kitchen

In the kitchen, the head chef, picked his nose and flicked the bogey into the big cauldron. He was responsible for some 200 slave meals a day, about 190 ‘normal' meals, 10 ‘special' meals and usually a few ‘a la carte requests'. Before the Great Pestilence, he had run Brutus and Stella's favourite local restaurant. He had gone bust six months ago but Stella had purchased him and his wife and they had become amongst the best treated slaves in the compound. So long as he produced edible but disgusting food that didn't make the slaves ill, and which cost almost nothing, he would be alright. He was even allowed to live and sleep with his plump, middle aged wife, even though Stella had twice sent her to do time in the brothel when she felt disappointed with his cooking.

Inside the cauldron, great hunks of fat and gristle bubbled away in the water that had been used to clean the dishes the day before. Grease, soap suds and scum floated thickly on the surface. Just before serving, he would add several bags of a protein, vitamin, anti-biotic and anti-toxin powder mix that maintained the slaves' health.

Next, he turned his attention to the specials. They were reserved for new slaves and those being mildly punished. He had lined up ten white bowls. In the fridge, a thick glutinous mixture had already set semi-hard. The basic ingredient was a cabbage that he had found at the back of a humid cupboard, bitter and worm ridden and well past its “use by” date. But boiled up for many hours with a box of mouldy tomatoes in a few pints of curdled urine, it had reduced down to a brown mass with the consistency of baby food. Next he had added the ‘texture': a large bowl of human nail clippings that he had obtained from the washroom supervisors, and another large bowl of human pubic hair obtained from the barbers. He had stirred them in and tested with a small spoon, pleased to see that there were several nails and hairs in every bite ! Finally he had added cubes of gelatine to set the mixture into jelly and a few spoonfuls from a bottle labelled “Horse Semen” for that piquant finish.

He removed the mixture from the fridge and cut it into ten large wobbling slices the size of thick crust pizza. Just before serving, he would relieve his bladder over them and place them in the white bowls.

Smiling contentedly, he lit a cheap cigarette, flicked the spent match and ash into the cauldron, and sat back to await his ‘customers'.

AFTER THE PESTILENCE

PART TWO

by velvetglove

Synopsis

‘After the Pestilence' is a work of fiction, set in the near future. The full work contains seven parts, each of around 10,000 words. The action follows the lives of a slave owning family; Stella, her husband Brutus, her stepson Brutus Junior, and her niece Lara. Following the Great Pestilence (global plague) of 2006 and the subsequent Depression, when the world's Stock, Property and Commodity Markets all crashed simultaneously, the largest Economies and Continents had each undergone different Revolutions.

Northern Europe – comprising the Scandinavian countries, much of what was Germany, the northern half of France, the Benelux Region, and all of Great Britain – had formed the ‘Northern Alliance', ruled by unelected bureaucrats. Under their Economic Recovery Act passed by the bureaucrats on January 1 st 2008, all basic 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. In that way, it was hoped, that the slaves' new owners would pay off the debts of the bankrupts and then feed, house and provide them with work instead of the State having to do it. The new system is working well in every part of the Northern Alliance, but it is flourishing best in the region of England.

In Part One, we followed the cruel first day in the new lives of Jim and Jane, after they were purchased at auction by Stella to work for the rest of their lives for the Brute Corporation, a Sex Empire she owns and runs with her husband Brutus. We also met Lavinia, renamed Lavatory, and her poor husband, who have been selected as personal slaves by Brutus. And we met Gemma, who has already starred in one of the Corporation's sex films and has now been picked on by Lara for some personal training. This part begins with an introduction to Rebecca, another slave.

Rebecca

In Room 7b of the brothel, Rebecca, aged 39, did her best to please the trio of sweaty farm labourers who had clubbed together to pay 10 credits for an hour of her time. They wanted value for their hard earned money. One was underneath her, his cock rooted in her bottom, the second was on top fucking her, and the third was sat astride her neck wanking himself into her mouth. Rebecca had been one of Stella and Brutus's first purchases seven months earlier and the long slippery slope from ‘favourite' to ‘film star' to prostitute and finally to bargain basement whore had coincided with a rapid decline in her physical looks and energy.

Rebecca winced as one pinched her roughly. She had been a well preserved, proud mother of two and housewife when the new Act was passed. Now she was a ‘vide couilles', the second lowest of the low. In French, ‘vide' means to empty and ‘couilles' means balls, and a Vide Couilles is a disparaging French term for a woman who is somebody you just empty your balls into, a human masturbatory device. VC's, as they were known at the Brute Corporation's brothel, were the company's discounted product for the ordinary working population, those who only earned a few credits a day and who hovered on the verge of bankruptcy themselves. They often came after work in twos and threes or more, especially towards the end of the day when prices were cut. Rebecca was on her eighth booking of the day. She had begun at 9.00 a.m. with a single customer paying 20 credits per hour for ‘first use' of her slightly rested and showered body, and was now with three men paying 10 credits between them to triple-team her exhausted, slack and sloppy orifices. In all, she had generated 115 credits so far that day, used by a total of 10 men and 1 woman, and she still had two hours to go.

She did her best to keep herself nice. She scrubbed and tended her skin at night with the cheap creams supplied, brushed her hair and filed her nails and did the exercises that the brothel doctor recommended. She ate the disgusting food and even savoured the semen for the small calorific content it had. But fucking and sucking an average of nearly 100 men a week had taken its toll on her face, body, vagina, anus and, most of all, her eyes. But, they were not the eyes of somebody who had given up.

Rebecca counted herself as a lucky one compared with some who had been purchased at around the same time as she had. She had seen them come and go to fates worse than hers. Fates she would do all she could to avoid. Because Rebecca Campbell still had a plan.

The man in her mouth grunted and shot a jet of hot semen to the back of her throat. She moaned, opened her lips wider and smiled up at him encouragingly, as he unleashed several more salty ropes onto her tongue.

“Mmmmmm….” She inhaled, as if it was the best thing she'd ever tasted.

He grimaced. “Fucking whore.”

Rebecca held it on her tongue. Men like this wanted treats that their wives and girlfriends wouldn't give them. Her dream was for one of them to buy her, even as a whore or slave, for the cut down price that Stella had posted on the brothel ‘for sale' board. She trilled it around her gums in a gargle, before gulping and swallowing it down in one with a smile.

The bearded, red-faced labourer snorted down at her in disgust.

She sensed the man in her bottom about to orgasm and clenched her buttocks, trying to please him. One day, one man would want her.

Facial

Brutus and Stella sat on their private balcony and sipped champagne. Bidet held the tray while Lavatory and One stood quietly in the corner. Jim and Jane were naked, mounted side by side over a sturdy flogging bench, while the red sun set slowly over the distant hills. The balcony had a view of a large part of the compound and land they owned.

“Not bad for fourteen and a half thousand.” observed Brutus.

“You remember them ?” Stella asked, holding a cigarette out for One, her personal male slave, to rush forward and light.

Brutus shrugged. “Not really. I remember her. But not her name.”

Stella smiled at One. His body was completely hairless. She had electronically depilated him and now made him maintain totally smooth skin from his toes to his neck with hair removing cream. It made his well above average endowment appear even larger. She reached and fondled his erection.

“Remind me, how long since you came ?”

One looked down longingly at his cock. “Eleven days, Mistress.”

“Eleven ? So recently ? How was the new slave, er … Bidet over there, at sucking your cock earlier ?” Bidet merely held the drinks tray and stared ahead. He was wearing a brutally small cock cage and nothing else.

One shrugged. “Not bad, thank you, Mistress.”

She paused, taking a deep drag. “Would you like to come now ?”

“Oh, yes please, Mistress. Very much.”

“Where ?” She exhaled smoke, eyes twinkling mischievously at One.

He pointed at the bending female figure. Jane. “There.”

“Good lad. In which orifice ?”

One pointed at her head with his index finger.

“Mouth ?”

“Yes please, Mistress.”

Stella gestured at the barrel of hook handled canes in the corner.

“She may bite. So beat them both first.”

One grinned. He swished the gnarled bamboo through the air in a practise swing. Although hairless and feminised to Stella's taste, he was still obviously male; wiry and muscular, with an impressive cock and balls.

Stella nodded at Jim, exhaling a thick plume of tobacco smoke, her gesture clearly meaning that One should start with the new male slave.

Twaaack !

“Aaahhsss…” Jim gasped as a pink line blazed across his buttocks.

Twaaaack !

Twaaaaack !

Twaaaaack !

Twaaaaaack !

“Ngggah …pleassseee..” He howled louder, struggling for breath.

Twaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaaaaack !

Expertly, One delivered ten quick, hard strokes of increasing severity over Jim's soft, quivering white, now scarlet striped, backside.

Stella smiled approvingly, gesturing for One to ask the question.

“Do you want your wife to suck my cock ?”

Jim was silent, sniffling but he didn't speak. One raised the cane high.

Twaaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaaaaaack !

“Okaaaaay …please…stop….yes….” Jim bellowed.

“Say it.”

“Yes….please le …let her suck your cock.”

Twaaaaaaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaaaaaaack !

“Please let ‘my wife', not ‘her', suck your cock.”

“Pl… please let my wife suck your cock.”

One glanced over at Stella happily for approval. She nodded, raising her champagne glass to him in a silent toast. Brutus clicked his fingers for Bidet to come on over and top up both their glasses.

Warming to his task, One rubbed the cane slowly across Jane's bottom. Then, like a matador, he struck viciously, back-handed.

Twack !

“Aaah….” Jane screamed.

Twaack ! Forehand.

Twaaack ! Backhand.

Twaaaack ! Forehand.

Twaaaaack ! He volleyed her bottom like a tennis player at the net.

Twaaaaaack !

“Nnnaaah …” her buttocks squeezed together, trying to diminish the pain.

Twaaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaaaack !

Twaaaaaaaaaack !

“Pleeeeeeeease ….stop, pleeease…I want to suck your cock …please…”

Stella and Brutus clapped their hands quietly in mild applause.

“Game, set and match. She wants to do it. So let her.”

One dropped the cane. His erection was full and throbbing, jutting out from his smooth groin, the circumcised purple head drooling a teardrop of shiny pre-cum. He stood by Jane's head and fed his length into her mouth. Her hands were fastened helplessly underneath the flogging bench. She gagged. One withdrew slightly while she got her breath and then began sliding his thick, eight inches, in and out.

Stella rose from her seat and stubbed her cigarette out on Jim's shoulder blade. Not hard, but enough to leave a painful tender spot for days.

“Aaaahhh….”

“Sshh..” Stella mocked, “you know cigarettes can harm you. Now watch your wife sucking cock. You've seen her fuck today and lick arse and before long you'll see her drink come and take it up her cornhole. And you know what ? That ain't even the half of it.”

“Pleeeeease..” Jim begged, “what have we done ? Why do you hate us so much ? Please …I'm asking you, why ?”

“Why ?” Stella answered, leaning into his face. “Why ? Because I can, that's why.”

One grinned as Jane's lips slurped noisily, struggling around his fat cock.

Stella glanced over at Brutus questioningly, then over at ‘Lavatory', his new favourite thing, a gorgeous brunette with fashion model features.

“You, pretty thing. Give them a helping hand or we'll be here all night.”

Working out what she was meant to do, Lavatory scuttled over and put her right hand round One's erection. It dwarfed her delicate white fingers like a pink salami in a tiny bun. Slowly, then quicker, she began pumping him, her fingers slapping against Jane's face.

One glanced over at Stella in gratitude. He was the luckiest slave in their ownership and he knew it. But he also knew that he had better not take too long because Stella was more than capable of calling a halt to the action at any time. He smiled as eleven days of frustration boiled over.

“Pl …ease, Mistress, Master, per… permission to come.”

Stella and Brutus both nodded magnanimously.

A huge first rope of thick semen uncoiled like a white snake from his cock. It almost seemed to happen in slow motion.

Lavatory gasped in shock, but kept her hand pumping furiously and the first spurt fell in an arc over Jane's face, splattering her nostrils and right cheek, and then two more, straight, white jets shot directly into the back of her open throat.

One let out a long orgasmic groan but Lavatory still didn't dare stop.

And then a fourth pulse, amazingly by far the biggest of the lot, erupted out of his cock and exploded over the bridge of Jane's nose like a bursting cream egg, before several more thick white gobbets splashed everywhere from up into her hair, to over her eye lids and, finally, a last few smaller dribbles oozed out onto Jane's chin.

“My,” Stella laughed, “you needed that didn't you ?”

“Fuck me. That was one of the biggest fucking orgasms I've ever seen. And I've seen a lot.” Brutus added. “I think I can find a part for you in a Bukkake movie lad.”

“That's why he's my number One slave.” Stella said, approvingly.

One smiled sheepishly at them, embarrassed, relieved and temporarily satisfied. He stepped back and tidied up the cane, quickly assuming a slave's proper humble demeanour once more. Lavatory looked down at her delicate hand streaked with yet more semen. Uncertainly, she looked about her and then licked it clean, before following One's example and withdrawing back into her previous humble pose.

Meanwhile, Jane's tousled blonde hair, blushing, pretty features and eyes swam like ripe fruit served in a bowl covered in a generous helping of cream. She blinked her eyes trying to clear them but that only made them sting more. Slowly, it began to drip down her crumpled face.

Stella turned to Brutus with a raised eyebrow. “Dinner, dear ?”

*** *** ***

Gemma pulled with her teeth. The thin blue string tightened.

Lara watched and giggled. She was at the height of her period. The cramps were passed but the thick red flow would be plentiful. Given a choice between eating the copious bucketful of her own shit, or spending the evening getting ‘better acquainted' with Lara, Gemma had naturally chosen the latter option, even though she didn't have a lesbian bone in her body and she despised everything about the awful young woman.

Slowly the expanded, soggy pink tampon with glutinous red streaks slid out from between Lara's labia.

“Oooh dear,” she said, “I thought I was over the worst. Are you sure that you don't want to change your mind ?”

The yellow plastic bucket of shit had been left outside the door, still threatening, still available.

“No Miss. Y ..you …look lovely, Miss.”

“Do I ?” Lara smiled coquettishly. “Mmm…I suppose I must when all you usually see are other slaves and nasty men. Chew on that.”

Gemma gulped and manoeuvred the used tampon into her mouth with her tongue. Lara studied her like a cat playing with a mouse.

“You are missing your evening meal aren't you ? We wouldn't want you to go hungry, after all. Suck all the goodness out of that thing.”

Evening Slop

The Slaves' meals were eaten twice a day: Morning Slop and Evening Slop. There were two sittings for each meal, presided over by the Brute Corporation's fearsome guards. Woe betide any slave who did not eat exactly what was on their plate or bowl. No more. And no less. There were ten tables with ten places each, and there were two guards for each table as well as CCTV monitors that could be checked later.

Rebecca winced as she sat on the hard wooden bench and looked down at the greasy bowl of Slop. Most people vomited the first couple of times they ate as slaves. But it was amazing what you got used to. Rebecca had always loved good food and drink, cooking for her family and dining out with her husband, gradually building a cellar of nice wines, until they got into financial difficulties. But nowadays she was always hungry and unfussy. The two watching guards grunted and all the slaves at Rebecca's table started to eat. Nobody talked, nobody looked anywhere but at their food and straight ahead. Rebecca picked up the white plastic spoon and filled it with the slimy broth. She swallowed. It tasted no better and no worse than usual. Luke warm, slightly soapy, oily, rancid and metallic. She knew they added some essential nutrients and vitamins in powder form, so her body got what it needed but not in any way she could enjoy the process. She scooped up a chunk of fat and gulped it down.

Opposite her, one of the guards smiled and leaned down over the shoulder of a female slave. He often picked on her. He regarded her as ‘fussy' about her food. His hand cupped her plump right breast roughly and he opened his mouth lasciviously to let a gob of his saliva drool into her bowl. Meekly, the woman carried on eating regardless. She was a Vide Couilles too, but younger than Rebecca, probably late twenties, a once attractive, freckled strawberry blonde.

The guard let go of her breast, unzipped himself and fished out his filthy penis. Rebecca could see it was crusted with yellow and white flakes of prior sexual activity and grime. Male guards were not allowed to molest any of the slaves without approval. Except for the Vide Couilles. He grabbed a handful of his victim's strawberry blonde hair and swivelled her pale face onto his cock. Rebecca ignored what was happening. Everybody else at the table did too. They continued eating in silence and tried to pretend oral rape at a dinner table was the most normal thing in the world which, in a way, it was.

*** *** ***

Gemma ran her tongue just inside the swollen lips of Lara's vagina, teasing her but not enough to annoy her. She tried to imagine everything that the most perfect boyfriend in the world, skilled at cunnilingus and making love, would do to her. She had already lapped at the rim of Lara's bottom and humbly kissed every millimetre of her backside and inner thighs. Lara just lay back lazily and silently, flicking through a magazine, not giving Gemma even the slightest feedback or encouragement. Carefully, Gemma probed Lara's clitoris with the tip of her tongue.

*** *** ***

Jim had always considered himself a brave, proud, alpha-type person. Long before any of this, he had known he was the sort of guy who would deck any man who laid anything more than eyes on ‘his' woman. And yet here he was, naked, strung up from a huge wooden cross beam, his cock encased too tightly in a newly fitted steel tube, watching as his new Owner, Brutus, sat in an armchair a few feet away, while Jane slowly rose and fell on his lap, her virgin bottom impaled on his cock. Or rather, her until now virgin bottom. Two other slaves – the couple that were called Lavatory and Bidet were watching intently – while Stella was sat in the vast bedroom at a nearby desk working on a lap top computer.

Brutus was casually fondling Jane's lovely tits. She had her back to him, so she was directly facing Jim instead, in order that he would have “a front row seat”, they'd joked, as Brutus deflowered her bottom. Jim looked at his wife. She winced, her lip curling in a grimace, obviously from the pain of the cock spearing her deeply every time she bounced. Once, about a year before, fuelled by too many drinks in happier times, Jim had suggested they try anal sex. To please him, Jane had attempted it, but even though they used some lubricant, they'd given up giggling.

And now, what a ridiculous moment to think of that song, what a difference a day makes, twenty four hours, or however the words went. Last night he and Jane had been in the State Auctioneer's Cells, but at least they'd had each other. But since then, Jane had been gang raped at the Inn, made to suck off another male slave, and now she was being buggered by a much older man they'd even met socially a few times.

She was clean, her hair still damp from the shower, her pubic mound now shaved completely smooth, so that Jim had an unimpeded view of her spread pink vagina, pouting but empty, as she slowly bounced her bottom up and down. He could tell that to Brutus she was just another woman, another orifice, but to Jim she was everything. And yet he was watching helplessly, without fighting, shouting, or trying to stop it, as his darling wife was unceremoniously sodomised.

Brutus effortlessly lifted Jane up and then dumped her down onto all fours on the expensive looking Turkish carpet. In one smooth motion he had climbed out of the chair and mounted her from behind, unbelievably treating her bottom like a well oiled vagina. Then he was thrusting hard and fast, his gut hanging over Jane's back.

He winked up at Jim. “Thanks for keeping her super tight for me, lad.”

Jim just stared at him sullenly, full of loathing.

Brutus reared up, hands clutching the flesh of Jane's hips, and smiled as he froze and, although Jim didn't know it, deposited his fifth and final load of the day deep into the rectum of his new slave.

*** *** ***

Lara sat in a silk gown and ate heartily. In contrast to the food given to slaves, the kitchens for the owners, staff and guests, offered some of the best prepared, most rare black market food and drink available. On her tray were a steaming bowl of seafood pasta, hot garlic bread, a fresh green salad and half bottles of red wine and sparkling water. Her sexual appetite temporarily sated by three fierce orgasms, Lara had suddenly noticed her other hunger, and ordered a ‘room service' supper, delivered by a slave waitress. On the television monitor in the background, the State Channel was broadcasting lists of names and photos of the slaves to be auctioned on the next day. Lara had one eye on the screen and one on her “new girlfriend”.

Gemma knelt and watched her eating in silence. On a tray on the floor, the slave's ‘special' that Lara had thoughtfully ordered glistened unappetisingly. The contrast between the two meals couldn't have been more pronounced. The sweet garlicky aroma of the hot pasta and bread compared with the fetid stench of the congealed brown triangle lying in a cold gravy of what looked and smelt distinctly like urine.

Lara forked another mouthful of pasta and smacked her lips. She grinned at Gemma's kneeling, naked body, her heavy breasts and narrow waist, sweet face and librarian spectacles. Gemma's thighs were spread as wide as possible, displaying her “beef curtains” as Lara had named them. Lara liked her. A lot. But in her mind that didn't mean she had to feel any pity for Gemma. On the contrary.

“Mmm, good.” Lara said, proferring a morsel of garlic bread. “Try.”

Gemma shuffled forward and opened her mouth, taking the piece from Lara's outstretched fingers. She ate enthusiastically, gratefully.

Lara sipped her wine and laughed. “I bet licking menstrual pussy for an hour makes you hungry, yes ?”

Gemma nodded. “Yes, Miss.”

“Pass me up your tray.”

Lara pushed her own tray over to a side table and took Gemma's tray onto her lap. Gemma knelt the other side of the tray. They both looked at it.

Lara reached for her own fork, prodded the thick, gelatinous slice and made it quiver in the bowl.

“Mmm…” she said, running her tongue along her upper lip.

She mashed the fork through an edge and spread the mouthful into pieces, exposing the red, green and brown strands and lumps inside it.

“Mouth wide open.”

She forked up a thick helping and dropped it onto Gemma's tongue.

“Mmm…what is that, bits of cabbage and tomato, nails and pubes ?”

Gemma stared straight into Lara's eyes, her throat gagged, but she munched, teeth crunching on finger and toe nails, and swallowed.

Lara nodded approvingly and forked up a second, larger mouthful. To emphasise the difference, she reached out for her own glass of red wine and swallowed a gulp, while dumping the fork load into Gemma's mouth.

Brutus Junior

Brutus Junior, ‘BJ' to his mates, was in the Hell Hole section of the compound. While he and four friends ate dinner, a woman rode the ‘Sexercycle' for their entertainment. She was Susannah, a 32 year old ex-entrepreneur whose technology business had crashed. How are the mighty fallen ? Stella had acquired the woman's entire company, employees and assets for just 25,000 Credits and found a buyer for it three weeks later for 75,000 Credits, minus the female owner. But the reason Susannah was now in the dreaded Hell Hole was because she had been caught on CCTV rebelliously spitting into the food on a room service tray she was delivering to an overnight brothel guest. There were worse crimes a slave could commit at the Brute Corporation. But not many.

At a glance, the gleaming steel Sexercycle resembled a normal exercise bike. But it required the rider to maintain the revolutions at a set rate, or the bike gave electric shocks via leads to the rider's body and orifices. There were red cables attached by clips to Susannah's nipples. Instead of a bicycle seat, there were twin dildoes, set in a seat base the shape of a Y. One thick red dildo was partly hidden inside her vagina, the other was inside her anus. The dildoes thrust in and out of each hole, in rhythm with the revolutions of the bike wheels. Susannah shone with a thick sheen of perspiration, beads of sweat flying from her temples as she frantically pedalled. Her once executive ‘power hair style' had been shaved to a brunette stubble. Her eyes were sunken and dark with tiredness and exhaustion, her classic features now looked gaunt and contorted with effort. And her once gym-honed and aerobics-toned body was now pounds lighter with the rib bones sticking out under her bruised teats.

The boys were all drinking, eating, smoking, jeering, as they played with the remote that controlled the minimum bike speed Susannah had to maintain without shocks, and the severity of the shocks if she fell below the set speed. The controller also allowed the depth of thrust of the dildoes to be varied too. At the moment, the vaginal intruder – a thick 2 ½ inch diameter, ribbed model – was set to penetrate 9 inches inside the woman's drooling cunt. It was drooling because each of the lads had deposited a pre-dinner load of semen up her before the cycling began. The anal intruder – a 2 inch diameter, nozzle type – was set to random, plunging anything from 3 to 10 inches inside her, drizzling a steady sheen of burning muscle gel from its nozzles into Susannah's raw rectum.

The large room hummed to the sound of the exercise machines and male laughter, along with the tinkle of cutlery as they ate and drank. The dining table glowed in soft candle light while the other half of the room, the exercise area, was harshly lit by bright strip lights and spots.

A man jogged on the running machine next to Susannah on the Sexercycle. He was 28 years old, an ex-executive at a car company who had been laid off, with a wife who had caught Stella's fancy at an Auction two months earlier. He was in the Hell Hole because he had orgasmed without permission when he and his wife had been rented for a threesome by a bisexual male bureaucrat. Again, there were worse crimes a slave could commit, but not many.

It was an ordinary, though slightly adapted running machine. But what wasn't ordinary was the heavy, clear plastic tracksuit the man was running in, and the electric bar heaters on the ceiling above the machine. They cast an orange glow into the bright lights and searing temperatures onto the micro-climate the man was forced to run in. The tracksuit encased his ankles up to his neck, keeping in the heat and sweat as he maintained the fast jog, gasping for air. But the tracksuit also locked in a clearly visible selection of mosquitoes, wasps, bees and other flying insects, and the fire ants that trawled his naked flesh, in a cloud of black, red and yellow inside the clear plastic. Barely visible but nevertheless evident, were the streaks of honey that had been pasted over his penis, scrotum, genital and anal area, to provide guidance to the insects as to the most juicy areas for them to gorge on. Bright red blotches and bites covered his entire midriff from his buttocks to the tip of his shrivelled penis. Tears and perspiration streamed down his face as he ran at a steady 5 miles per hour to complete the 2 hour, 10 mile ordeal on the machine without falling and having to start again.

Brutus Junior loved showing off to his mates. Only he had this kind of power. He knew they half adored him and were half petrified of him. BJ had been given a Credits budget by his dad to purchase a few slaves and, at the first opportunity, he had purchased one of his own mates. Neil, a 25 year old lad he had grown up, played football, ogled girls and shared dirty jokes with, was now a slave of BJ, as were his sister, mum and dad, who had gone bankrupt. They were BJ's own special project, housed in a special dungeon in his house, where he practised and refined his skills.

Finally, next to BJ and his four friends, sat an astonishingly beautiful woman. Her name was Joelle and she was eating the same delicious food as the men. She was dressed in fine black lace lingerie, a black silk robe, and she was heavily pregnant. In fact, she was seven months pregnant and BJ was the father. Before the world had changed, Joelle had been married to Brutus Junior's university French lecturer. Now … well, it's a long story, but they mysteriously lost all their money and Joelle had sadly agreed to divorce her husband and marry BJ instead, even though he was ten years younger than her, acne-scarred and geekish, and she disliked him intensely. She ate silently, carefully spooning the food into her mouth, not really watching the forced exercise of the two unfortunates, certainly not joining in with the male banter and jeers.

BJ leaned over and kissed his wife, arm cuddling her shoulder. He leered down into her large pregnant cleavage. He had long ago given up hoping she would enjoy torturing others, but he still believed he could make her love him. Well, if not love, then at least like him. He turned his attention back to the scene in front of them all and smiled at the gasping wimp and bitch. These were mild punishments. Little ‘amuse bouches' as Joelle would call them, nibbles before the real main courses began.

*** *** ***

Lara forked up the final remnants from the bowl. There was a particularly thick, yellow toenail that was bound to have lots of goodness in it. She knew that Stella gave the slaves' chef an extraordinarily low budget for food. The same amount of Credits that Lara spent on her lunchtime snack at the State canteen, was used to feed 200 slaves per day. Lara loved the ingenuity with which the Chef managed to make around 400 servings daily out of the same money she casually wasted on a sandwich that she left half of.

She pushed the toenail into Gemma's mouth and watched her crunch it. Bits of pubic hair, nail, and putrid vegetable were stuck in the girl's teeth as she opened her mouth to receive it. Lara looked deep and enquiringly into Gemma's eyes. She was so intrigued. What must it be like to be in her situation; bukkake movies, forced lesbianism, and eating filth ? Lara had no idea how she would handle it herself. She didn't want to win Gemma's affection. Shit, she had no interest in romance. She liked Gemma and that was all she cared about. All she wanted was her complete and utter worship. She wanted Gemma to think of her the way that terrified primitives used to worship their planetary gods.

Lara lifted the tray away and laid it next to her own, half finished, still tempting meal. She took a sip of wine and smiled.

“Full ?” she asked.

Gemma's glance gave her away. For a fleeting second she glanced at Lara's tray and then back. “Yes, Miss.”

Lara chuckled. “Tell me the truth.”

Gemma paused. “N … no, Miss.”

There was a long silence.

“Open your mouth. Show me your teeth.”

Gemma pulled her lips back and parted her mouth in a wide ‘o'.

Lara stared at the brown hairs stuck in Gemma's teeth like dental floss and bits of red and brown gunk in her gums.

“Go into my bathroom and clean your mouth out. Use floss, a toothpick, a new toothbrush and soap, not toothpaste, then rinse with mouthwash.”

Lara watched her go. She'd been tempted to make her use the toothbrush that's was kept alongside the toilet brush for washing the pan, but she didn't want germs in Gemma's mouth for what she planned next.

“And hurry. I'll be there in two minutes and I'd better find your teeth and mouth clean !”

Lara smiled, listening to the poor woman flossing and brushing. Her luxurious bathroom with Jacuzzi tub, steam shower, twin basins, throne toilet, day bed, wardrobes and dressing table, was larger than the entire cell that housed the twenty cages, in one of which Gemma slept. She listened to her gargling the mouthwash and spitting then rinsing the basin clean.

Lara stood up, her robe falling open, and walked into the bathroom.

“Show.”

She examined the presented mouth and tongue and sniffed the scent of soap and mouthwash approvingly. Gently she removed Gemma's spectacles from her nose and placed them on the side of the basin.

“Lay down in the Jacuzzi there, face up.”

She watched Gemma climb into the large white bath, eyeing her heavy breasts and slim waist hungrily. Slowly, Lara shucked off her robe and stepped in over Gemma, lowering her thick, untrimmed bush down.

“I know you like piss. Open.”

Lara watched dispassionately as her initial spray soaked Gemma's face and shoulders and then became a single fierce jet as her labia opened fully. She adjusted her hips and aimed straight into Gemma's wide open, freshly soaped mouth. A little gas escaped from her anus as she relaxed and she grinned down into Gemma's overflowing face.

“Lick.” She ordered.

Gemma gulped down a hot mouthful and her tongue came out as Lara lowered her still urinating, menstrual pussy directly onto Gemma's lips. Then Lara shifted her weight and gave Gemma her bottom to tongue, with the result that her piss rose in an arc over Gemma's face, splashed against the tub, and ran down into the woman's hair.

Finally, her flow ceased. Lara continued to rub her wet buttocks either side of Gemma's tongue and nose. Smirking, she felt a telltale stirring in her bowels and passed another silent, but larger bubble of gas. This time, in seconds, a rich, full aroma of sulphur filled the air around them.

Gemma had retracted her tongue in disgust.

Lara pinched Gemma's earlobe cruelly. “Lick, bitch.”

She closed her eyes in bliss as the soft tongue went back inside her. She couldn't decide whether her climax was going to come first, or her bowel movement. She reached down and stroked her clit to bring herself off, and then gasped as her sphincter muscle opened. She shrieked as her orgasm started and simultaneously lifted her buttocks to allow the dry, solid turd to ease its way out and drop onto Gemma's grimacing face.

“Yessssss … ssss ….sss …mmmm…” Lara hissed in orgasmic triumph.

Two more smaller turds soon followed as her climax subsided. She straightened up on her knees and watched them plop, one onto Gemma's neck, the other between her breasts.

“Lie still.” She said, pushing herself back to sit astride Gemma's waist, her bottom smearing the woman's tummy. Lara giggled at the sight of the three brown logs deposited on Gemma's pale skin. Tentatively, she picked up the one that was about to tumble from Gemma's neck and placed it alongside the one on her tits.

“Mouth open.”

The turd on Gemma's face was lying across her lips, nose and cheek. Gemma opened her lips cautiously and it slid away from her mouth.

“Pl… ease, Miss, not this …”

Lara relished her power.

“Why not ? You know this goes on here. Why do you think we spend valuable Credits on powerful antibiotics and antitoxins ? Give me one good reason why I should spare you.”

A tear trickled down the side of Gemma's temple. “I … can't Miss, but I'm begging y …you, please…I'll do anything …”

Lara smiled mock-kindly. There was no rush. This bitch would eat a bucket load of slime in time. Lara held all the aces. She didn't need to play them all at once. The woman had already given Lara her first ever simultaneous climax and dump. Maybe she deserved a break ?

“Tell me what you'll do.”

“Anything, Miss.”

“No. You think of something. Amuse me.”

It was the second time that day she had asked Gemma the question. Gemma blinked at her nervously. Her naïve mind unable to think.

“I … can't Miss … I just want to please you Miss …”

Lara reached down and picked up the largest log from Gemma's face.

“Kiss it. Don't eat it, but kiss it.”

Gemma slowly puckered her lips and kissed the firm, glistening piece. Lara watched the bile obviously rise in her throat as she gagged.

“I will make a deal with you.” Lara began, magnanimously. “For the next week you will be my dedicated toilet slave. Every time I go, you will attend me. When I piss you will drink it. When I shit, whether I go on your face and body, or in the toilet, you will always clean up lovingly. My waste will become your best friend in the world. Understood ?”

Gemma seemed to realise it was a good deal. “Y ..yes Miss.”

Lara nodded, carefully lining up all three pieces of shit on Gemma's breasts. “I'm not finished. We will review the situation in a week and, at that stage, all bets are off. Secondly, if you fail to meet your side of the bargain, if you recoil from my waste, or vomit, or show it any disrespect, I will place you in the Hell Hole lavatories for the rest of your days.”

Lara paused and Gemma gave a cautious nod of acceptance.

“Thirdly, I am going to have your clitoris numbed.”

Gemma stared up at her in shock.

“First thing tomorrow. It will last about a week. The duration of our deal. Maybe a bit longer. You will have no feeling and to all intents and purposes it will be like having your clit removed. It will help you to concentrate on giving me pleasure instead.”

Gemma's mouth opened to speak but then she thought better of it.

“And others. I may be a lesbian myself,” Lara said, “but I enjoy watching women and men together. For the next seven days I've taken the week off work and I'm going to take direct control of your life here. I'm going to choose your partners, your activities and everything else.”

Another tear slid from the side of Gemma's right eye.

“And I should warn you that I don't think a healthy 22 year old beauty like you should be stinting with her favours ! Those guys in your bukkake movie debut were sex gods compared with the partners I'll select for you. Quality or lack of it, will be more important than quantity, but I'm sure we'll find time to ensure you get both. I think we'll mainly use that bottom of yours since it's the thing I'm least interested in and the thing that naughty old men seem to prefer. And your arsehole is probably the thing you like least too, isn't it ?”

Gemma bit her quivering lip and nodded, silently crying now.

“But I'm sure we'll let a few up that cunt too and so I wouldn't want that sluttish clit of yours distracting you from your duties.” Lara sat up off Gemma's tummy and climbed out of the Jacuzzi.

“We're going to get on fine you and me, I can see that. Now get up, flush those disgusting things down the toilet, then come wipe my bottom with paper. Next, take a cold shower and then go and bend over my bed. I fancy giving those butts of yours a little spanking before turning in for the night. I shall call a guard to come and return you to your cage in 15 minutes. I'm sure you will sleep better in your own bed !”

*** *** ***

BJ returned to his house at midnight. Joelle went to the kitchen to make a pot of peppermint tea for them both and he went downstairs to the dungeon. He smiled at the family members who hung on four separate X frames set into the walls of the room. Neil, his ex-mate hung on the north wall. Neil's 23 year old sister, Tammy, was on the east wall, their father on the south wall, opposite Neil, and their mother on the west wall, opposite Tammy. All were naked except the two men wore severe steel and leather cock cages and belts, and the two women were laced into incredibly tight steel and leather corsets round their waists and ribs. All four wore black ball gags fastened into their mouths.

“Hi mate, how's tricks ?” BJ asked Neil with a wink.

Neil moaned into his gag.

“Oh shit, I forgot. The gag. Oh well, everybody sends their best. We had a great evening. Good meal, plenty of booze, fun entertainment. Everybody's dicks are a bit sore since we really partied with some bitch who spat into a guy's food. Imagine that. Blew our loads two or three times into her each. The guys were asking, by the way, how long since you got your rocks off mate ? I couldn't remember since it's not something that concerns me but, out of interest, what is it now, thirty days or so ?”

BJ shrugged and flicked Neil's shiny steel cock cage with his open palm. The cage was tiny, restricting his penis into just a two inch long by half inch wide tube. Neil's groin and scrotum had been completely shaved and he looked like a young lad.

Neil jerked his head upwards several times.

“What ? Longer ? Sixty days ?”

Neil nodded his head downwards.

“Less than sixty ? Oh that's all right then. Plenty of time to go.”

Bored, he turned to Tammy. She was his little fuck partner when he woke in the night and felt horny, now that Joelle was so heavily pregnant. But mostly he liked filming mother and daughter scenes with Tammy and her mum, a 48 year old woman who'd known BJ since he was born. He'd made a low budget series with them that had sold quite well, called “Vegetarian Diet” numbers I, II and III. In them, the two women went at each other with all manner of market produce, from carrots and bananas to courgettes and cucumbers. For some reason BJ didn't get, they seemed to find the idea of free DVD copies of them, with a huge raw butternut squash up their cunts, being given to everybody that had lived in their neighbourhood before their bankruptcy, rather upsetting !

He slipped a finger up Tammy's filthy, unwashed cunt. Three days earlier his mates had given her a real seeing to. It was the first time BJ had let them all meet up again since he'd purchased Neil's family. His mates had all enjoyed getting to know Neil's younger sis' better than they had in the old days. He'd allowed her to try and fight them off but they were four against one and she was soon tied up and ready for several hours of gang rape, in every hole, but mainly the one he was now teasing. All Tammy had wanted to do afterwards was wash off the shame and evidence, which was precisely why BJ had left her up there, sloppy and stinking, for over 72 hours.

“Evening Mrs Evans.” Brutus said, turning to Neil's mum.

She moaned into her gag.

“Really ?” he said. “You want to fuck a donkey ? Did I hear right ?”

She groaned and shook her head.

“I did ? Oh good. Because I've been asked to supply a slag in her late forties, who's not bad looking but past her best, with a really loose cunt, who's not fussy about her sex partners, to star in a movie with a donkey.”

He reached up and hefted her tits that hung over the top of the corset.

She looked at him, her eyes glazed, and shook her head again sadly.

BJ smiled over at her husband.

“Hi Mr Evans. How are you doing ? Horny like your son ?”

Neil's dad looked at him with undisguised hatred. His cock was encased in a similar tiny steel cage. Neither male had had any sexual relief whatsoever since BJ had acquired them over six weeks ago. It had been easy for them at first. After all, most people lose their libido when they suffer a trauma like becoming slaves. But after a while, living as they were in the constant presence of sex of many sorts, while their organs produced sperm and fluid and hormones, they became increasingly sexualised once more. And that's when BJ's fun had really begun.

He spread Mrs Evans' labia apart and peered inside. She was clean and dry. He had already shot a couple of loads that evening but felt he could manage one more to help him sleep. His lovely Joelle and her peppermint tea could wait. He pushed a button and the X frame whirred down from the 90 degree angle to a more comfortable pitch, leaving Neil's mum's cunt at the perfect height. Smiling for his audience, he unbuckled his belt and eased his pants down to his knees. He stroked himself fully hard.

“Mmm … I have always fancied you Mrs Evans. Open up.”

She obediently spread her hips like an opening flower, as much as her bonds would allow and BJ fingered her apart and slipped his erection in. She wasn't as tight as he was used to with all the twenty and thirty year olds he fucked, but she could still do the job. He thrust as far as he could, making her grunt behind the gag, and sank into her warmth up to his balls.

“Hey Mr Evans, you'll forget what you're missing soon. Your old lady's a real nice fuck when there's nothing better around. Which reminds me, you remember your old boss Mr Jones ? The guy who laid you off. Well I bumped into him the other day and he asked about you all. So I invited him over here and he's coming in a couple of days time. He's interested in purchasing your wife here as a secretary and … well … he's not attached so I guess he has other needs to be taken care of too.”

BJ grinned into the woman's eyes and over at her husband. He began accelerating his thrusts, hammering into her, fingers mauling her mature bosoms.

“What … do …” he asked, looking at her husband between humps, “… you reckon she's … worth …. your wife …. Mister …. Evans … I doubt … very much … if she's … been fucked … by a donkey …. first … eh ?”

He withdrew, and slammed, withdrew, and slammed, and felt the first stage of his orgasm brewing. Pretty quick for a 48 year old mum.

“I'm about to shoot my load … into her … Mr Evans … we'll … let it fester overnight … and then …. mmm … you can lick out both your … wife and your daughter's cunts …. in the mmm …. morning …. aaaaah.”

Brutus Junior reared up and threw his head back as he dumped the remains of his daily quota into his ex-mate's mum. Then, after resting on her for a moment, he pulled out his glistening erection and turned and did four bows to his audience, north, east, south and finally west, back at Mrs Evans. He fingered her open and admired. Not bad for a third load.

“Right folks.” He said, pushing the button to raise her X frame back to the uncomfortable upright angle overnight. “Tomorrow's going to be a busy day. I've got some treats planned for you all. We're going to step things up a little. So get your beauty sleep. No talking after lights out.”

He blew each of their gagged, humiliated faces a kiss in turn, switched out the lights and then bolted the steel door behind him.

*** *** ***

Like New York, the Brute Corporation was a city that never slept. There was always something going on in the dark, quiet night, whether it was one of the company's paid editors working on a movie, or a brothel guest getting their overnight money's worth, or simply a new slave lying whimpering in a small cage unable to get comfortable or to sleep.

Stella often worked until 1 a.m. or later, long after Brutus had begun to snore. The Corporation ran a sophisticated booking system that had been acquired from a bankrupt airline and modified. Every slave's details were stored in the computer database, including the obvious stuff like original name, new working names, relatives, price paid, age, measurements, dislikes, specialities, etc. Also, there were digital photos, the usual front and side mug shots, to full body and genital close ups, to action shots from movies and the hidden cameras everywhere. Then there was an entire history of each slave's time at the Corporation, from past bookings to notes and evaluations by customers and staff, and finally an agenda of the slave's future with a booking diary and an ‘ideas' section.

The slave database cross-referenced with the Corporation's customer database, whether those were brothel customers, movie and photo shoot casting directors or anybody else, such as breeding clients. About three quarters of all the brothel's bookings were made a day or two in advance. Every one of the Corporation's 10,000 account customer's details were stored, including alias name, account status, proven health and STD tests, age, measurements, likes, preferences, etc. along with a couple of photographs. Some customers wanted to book specific females or males or groups. Most left it to the booking system.

Stella's favourite part of the day was sitting at her bedroom terminal arranging the bookings. Only she, Brutus, Lara, BJ and the brothel manager had terminals and access codes. The computer system itself could do many of the bookings automatically, based on availability, price, preferences, slave's status, etc. It was like allocating somebody seat 17a on a flight with a certain meal preference. No human interaction was necessary. Stella loved reading the system's plans for each of her charges the following day and changing or tweaking them where she saw fit.

Jane and Jim had already been created on the system; basics of name, price, arrival date and a couple of lines about what had happened to them both so far. Stella pushed a key and brought up a list of all the unallocated customers for the next day. There were currently 177 of them that the computer was crunching through during the night and more would undoubtedly log on with requests in the pre-dawn hours. She glanced down the list of 177 aliases, their arrival times, ages, likes and jpeg photos. Smiling, she used the mouse to click in the boxes against 50 of them, spread out throughout the day. There would probably be a couple of ‘no shows' but they could easily be replaced by non-account customers without bookings.

Stella sipped her wine and began arranging the detail of Jane's first working day. It would begin, after various morning duties, at ten o'clock. From 10.00hrs to 13.00hrs, she would have three hours of 12 single customers, each with a 15 minute booking. Stella chose a white bureaucrat in his 60s who preferred ‘oral followed by straight sex' for the 10.00hrs opening slot and a young black businessman who liked ‘anal' for the 10.15hrs second slot.

Then, at 13.00hrs, Stella generously scheduled in a half hour toilet break for a shower, some slop, and fresh make-up.

At one thirty the real fun would begin. From 13.30hrs to 18.30hrs Jane would suffer five straight hours of double and triple teaming, a total of 24 customers over ten 30 minutes bookings. Stella chose customers with cheaper price parameters for later in the day when Jane would be well past her best, so to speak. At 18.30hrs, she scheduled in a second half hour toilet break for another shower, more slop and make-up. Finally, from 19.00hrs to 22.00hrs, she chose three special one hour slots.

From seven to eight, she scheduled in Jane's first, or perhaps she would be the second, lesbian encounter with an incredibly obese female customer whose name Stella had spotted on the list. From eight to nine, she selected a senior Stalitz (secret police) officer she knew for a freebie. He would undoubtedly put Jane's breasts and nipples through his usual rough routine. And from nine to ten, she scheduled “the Clock Gang”, a Scandinavian group of ten men and two women who were regulars and always came together, who specialised in violent and perverted, ‘Viking' gang rapes.

Stella raised her glass in a toast to the screen and clicked ‘confirm'. At her brief interrogation on arrival, Jane had admitted to just one previous partner before she married Jim. Today she had been fucked at the Inn by three more, been blown a facial by One, and had her anal virginity plundered by Brutus. Not bad for a start. But by this time tomorrow Jane's sexual experience and number of partners would have expanded exponentially from two yesterday, up to seven today if you counted a facial, to almost 60 in another 21 hours time. A lovely graph !

Next she turned to Jim's schedule. Stella decided he would spend the entire twelve hours, fastened in a pillory, watching Jane's day in a closet behind the mirrored glass in her brothel room. But Stella also selected two gay men from the list of the unallocated customers. She chose one she knew was a heavy smoker and made a note to ask him to puff away while he was with Jim. At 13.00hrs and at 18.30hrs, when Jane had her brief breaks, the gay men would be shown into the closet where Jim was pilloried, and no doubt they would bugger him hard. Finishing her drink, she clicked confirm and shut down the computer.

*** *** ***

Unaware of her fate, Jane lay on the cold tiled floor in Brutus and Stella's ensuite bathroom. There were fixed hooks to which she had been manacled, facing upwards, her head next to the toilet pan. She couldn't sleep. Her body, above all her thrashed buttocks and deflowered bottom ached, and her mind was tortured replaying the events of the day. She had no idea where her poor Jim was.

Suddenly, the light was switched on and Stella entered the bathroom. She ignored Jane and went to her basin. For several minutes, she removed her make-up, brushed her hair and teeth, and then undressed fully. Naked she sat on the toilet and after a few seconds Jane heard the spray and tinkle of urination. Stella's foot began mauling Jane's right breast.

“Asleep ?”

Jane swallowed. “N … no Mistress.”

“Enjoy today ?”

Jane didn't know what to say. “No Mistress.”

She heard Stella laugh. “Bet you regret your haughty attitude to my having a career in sex movies, eh ?”

“Yes Mistress.” Jane replied. She certainly did. “I'm sorry Mistress.”

She heard the toilet flush.

Stella rose to her full height and stared down at Jane.

“Too late for apologies, bitch. But I'm going to let you do something to please me. Do your very best and, who knows, I may be merciful.”

Jane guessed what was coming. It couldn't be that bad. She watched Stella's knees bending and her neatly trimmed bush descending. There were droplets of pee on her unwiped pussy lips. Jane held her breath.

“Arse first.”

At the last moment, she saw Stella change her angle and present her puckered anus to Jane's face. Despite her revulsion, Jane pushed her tongue out as the older woman's heavy buttocks made contact with her cheeks.

“Good girl.” She heard Stella say. “Had you ever done this before those two lads at the Inn today ?”

Jane mumbled “mmner”, meaning ‘no', as best she could.

“Oh good. Must have been a shock for poor Jim seeing you lick arse when you never did it for him. Too late now, I guess. Still there are lots of other bottoms. Just a bit deeper, dear, get right up inside.”

Jane could hardly breathe. She stuck out her tongue. The taste was bearable, slightly coppery, the mild body odour tinted by a whiff of perfume, bottom, and sex. It was the weight that was the worst.

At last, Stella shifted back and suddenly she was staring down between her thighs at Jane. She was wearing a big smirk.

“So, I'm your first pussy ?”

Jane nodded.

Stella smeared her wet pussy lips over Jane's mouth.

“I haven't washed since Brutus and I made love. So you can enjoy a bit of him second hand. Now I'm tired and ready for bed. Make me come.”

Jane raised her neck and lapped at the lubricating vagina. She concentrated on the clitoris and soon had Stella grinding back in her face.

“Yessssssssss …..aaammmmm ……”

Jane stayed kissing gently, as she imagined she would like herself.

Eventually, Stella pushed herself up and rose to her feet. She shrugged.

“Nice try but no cigar. No mercy today I'm afraid. Maybe you'll get another chance tomorrow or in the next few days.”

Jane stared at her. Stella would be going off to her huge double bed with silk sheets and soft pillows while she was lying here on the hard floor.

“Good night.” Stella said. “Don't let the bathroom bugs bite.”

And that was that.

Jane lay there, her face sticky and wept. Eventually she drifted into a troubled sleep beset by dreams of Inns, and erections and suffering.

If she had only known how much worse it could get ….

AFTER THE PESTILENCE

PART THREE

by velvetglove

Author's Note

“Beware the iron fist hidden inside a velvet glove”

‘After the Pestilence' is a work of fiction, set in the near future. The full work contains 7 parts, of which this is the third. The fourth part is planned for posting around mid-October 2005. Thanks to those who have provided feedback, reviews and suggestions.

Synopsis

Following the Great Pestilence of 2006 and the subsequent Depression, when global Stock, Property and Commodity Markets crashed, the World's largest Economies 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 by unelected bureaucrats. Under their 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. The new system flourished best in the part of the Northern Alliance that used to be the country of England.

The action follows the lives of a slave owning family; Stella, her husband Brutus, her stepson Brutus Junior, and her niece Lara. In Parts One and Two, we followed the cruel first day in the new lives of Jim and Jane, after they were purchased at auction by Stella to work for the Brute Corporation, a Sex Conglomerate she owns and runs with her husband. We also met Lara and Brutus Junior, and a small selection of slaves including Lavinia, Gemma, Rebecca, Neil and his family. Part Three begins at dawn and describes just the first four hours of what will prove to be another monotonous and gruelling day for all of the slaves.

The Next Day

06.30 hrs

At six thirty precisely, Jim joined the long line of slaves trudging slowly into the canteen. In some respects it looked like any other dining hall or cafeteria he had seen, with a serving ledge running the length of one wall, along which everybody slowly pushed a tray, and in the centre of the room, ten parallel tables and benches at which people sat. But in other ways it was unlike anything he'd ever imagined, with barking guards dressed in black military uniforms, shouting orders and waving riding crops at the slaves, and ominous CCTV cameras mounted on every wall and into the ceiling, monitoring everything. The slaves all shuffled along stark naked except, like Jim, every male wore a tiny steel tube locked over his penis. A few of the females wore what looked like shiny PVC punishment corsets, pin-lined bras or underwear, and a number of slaves hobbled along wearing ankle chains that restricted them to tiny steps.

Worst of all was the stench. Most canteens in his experience had that slightly unpleasant institutional odour of disinfectant and boiled cabbage. This one had that smell multiplied by a factor of ten. And it seemed to be getting stronger the nearer he got to the serving hatch.

“Yuk.” He mumbled under his breath.

The woman in front of him turned and raised an eyebrow. She glanced around nervously for guards but none were watching.

“New ?” she mouthed silently.

Jim nodded.

She smiled at him kindly, with sad eyes. “Rebecca.” She whispered.

“Jim.” He replied. In spite of the situation, his male instinct took over. He checked her out. She was a lovely looking woman. Older than him. Forties maybe. Nice face, doe eyes and soft lips. There were a couple of hickey bruises on her neck and jagged scratches on her full breasts. He glanced away, ashamed.

She continued to smile and shrugged in a way that said he could look as much as he liked. She was obviously used to it.

The line shuffled forwards.

“Eat it all.” She whispered. “Not until we get to the tables. Wait until they say, then eat it all . Whatever you think of it. Everything.”

He nodded slowly. “The smell.”

She made a face. “You get used to it, believe …”

Her mouth snapped shut as a guard walked up the line and past them.

“Can't we speak at all ?” he whispered to her back.

“Not really. You'll attract attention to yourself. You don't want to do that.”

“Where do I sit ?”

“Wait and they'll put you somewhere.”

She had reached the hatch and fell silent. Jim watched her hold out her tray and empty bowl. A ladle tipped three large dollops of mush into the bowl. He heard her say a quiet but enthusiastic and grateful “thank you”.

Jim took a step forwards and looked into the hatch. An Asian man was standing behind a big steel cauldron. He had a cigarette in his teeth and was shouting an order in a foreign language to somebody in the kitchen. He turned back, looked at Jim, removed his cigarette and grinned, showing gold teeth. His face was pock-marked and sweating.

“You new ?”

“Yes.” Jim replied.

The man scowled at him. “Yes, Sir.” He spat, sticking the cigarette back into his mouth.

“Sorry. Yes … Sir.”

Jim held out his tray and bowl. With a grin, the man took it and peered into the cauldron. He took several seconds carefully scooping up selected bits and ladling them into Jim's bowl. Jim stared mesmerised as the long strip of ash on the man's cigarette drooped. Nonchalantly, the man held the bowl and the ash tumbled into the serving. He stared challengingly at Jim and then slowly stirred it into Jim's food with the ladle, before adding two more scoops from the cauldron. Jim's bowl was full to the brim.

He took it and, in spite of his rage, mumbled “thank you … Sir.”

“Welcome.” The Asian cackled.

A black guard with a clip board came up to Jim.

“You James Bryant ?”

“Yes.” Jim replied, adding “Sir” quickly as an afterthought.

The guard pointed at an empty space. “Sit there.”

Jim saw that the woman he'd spoken to, Rebecca, was already sitting at the same table, along with six other women and two men, one middle aged guy, and one younger than Jim. They were all staring straight ahead in silence, waiting, bowls and plastic spoons on trays in front of them.

Jim carefully laid his tray down and climbed into his space on the bench. He winced as his bruised buttocks, from the caning he'd been given the previous evening, came in contact with the hard wood of the seat.

The guard watched him carefully. He was a tall, handsome. He reminded Jim of an Olympic sprinter that he couldn't remember the name of.

“Everybody, this is James, though I think he's called Jim.”

All eyes turned to Jim. Most looked at him warmly, a few disinterested.

“Jim has a wife called Jane. Cute little bitch judging by her photo. She's busy now I'll bet, but I guess we'll get to meet her in a day or two. Tell us all, Jim, which hole do you think I'm going to want to fuck Jane in first ? Her mouth, her pussy or her shey highway ?” He sniggered at his own joke, saying ‘her-shay-high-way' lyrically, but meaning her brown entrance after a well known pre-Pestilence brand of chocolate bar.

Jim stared at him, staggered. These people never stopped.

“Her … I … er … I guess her p …pussy … Sir.”

The guard grinned and unzipped his uniform fly. “Thanks for the tip.” He fished out his black semi-hard penis and sat down in the empty chair at the head of the table. “But until I meet the lovely Jane, you will have to do.” He pointed at one of the women at the table. “Come here.”

Jim watched a lovely redhead stand up. She looked young, early twenties, freckles, pointy white breasts. She knelt down between the guard's legs.

“Mmm … so Jim, you start. You can be taster of the morning slop today.”

Jim snatched his gaze away from the young woman's pink lips sliding up and down over the expanding black cock. He looked down at the brown mush. It smelled like coffee was an ingredient. He saw beans. And black things, maybe raisins. And other lumps. The thick texture was provided by some sort of cereal or maize. He picked up the plastic spoon.

“Hurry Jim, less you want my slop added to it too.” Said the guard.

Jim raised a mouthful to his lips. It was lukewarm, not even that. Tepid. He put it in his mouth trying not to retch. There was certainly coffee in the mix. Jim loved a good expresso or cappuccino and judged himself a bit of a coffee expert. This was cheap, bitter. There were cold beans and raisins. Lots of them. His teeth crunched on something small and hard. The whole thing was a chewy mush, so thick that he had to lick off the spoon.

“So, Jim, how do you like your first taste of the Corporation's food. Good, eh ?” The guard was gently fondling the girl's red tresses.

“Thank you, Sir. Yes, very good, Sir.”

Then the guard suddenly seemed more interested in his blowjob than in humiliating Jim. He clapped his hands at everybody.

“All eat, now, and hurry. We've wasted time already.”

Jim lifted another mouthful to his lips and chewed, watching the other people at his table. Rebecca glanced at him but simply ate quietly.

It was foul, worse than you'd feed a dog, but just edible. There was a lot of it too. His serving was the equivalent of about four big bowls of normal cereal that Jim would have eaten for breakfast once upon a time. The worst part was crunching on bits of unexpected stuff. It was like kitchen sweepings had simply been added to the mix, a bit of raw carrot, a bit of eggshell, a lump of gristle, and flecks of cigarette ash.

He had been given a meal 24 hours earlier, before the auction, but nothing since. Suddenly he realised his body needed sustenance.

He noticed, amazingly, that Rebecca, and the others, ate almost with relish, eating fast and efficiently, with no sign of distaste.

The guard gave a grunt and Jim realised he was unloading himself in the redhead's mouth. Nobody else looked, but Jim caught the eye of the young guy opposite him.

“Mmm … hold that on your tongue, baby, don't chug it back.”

The woman carefully slid her lips off the glistening erection and shut her mouth. She stared up at him obediently, waiting.

The guard reached up and fingered her small breast. “Share it with your husband, baby, gob that into his bowl.”

Jim watched the woman rise, lean over the young man opposite's shoulder, and drool and spit the pearly contents from her mouth onto the remaining slop in his bowl.

The guard stood to jiggle his erection back into his pants. “Kiss him.”

He stared as the redhead turned to her shaven headed husband and kissed him lovingly. The young man kissed her back passionately. For a moment, they held each other's gaze longingly. Strangely, even in such circumstances, Jim felt envious of them, at least being together.

“Now now,” the guard smirked, “that's enough sex you too. What do you think you are, married ?” He laughed at his own joke. “Both eat up.”

The guard watched the young man lap up his seed from his bowl while he carefully straightened his smart, shiny black uniform, and then he wandered off to chat with a couple of the other guards.

Jim glanced at Rebecca.

She shrugged and then looked meaningfully at a CCTV camera.

Jim and everybody at the table simply finished their ‘meal' in silence.

07.05 hrs

Stella released Jane from the bathroom. She was already dressed in jogging pants and trainers. She pushed Jane into the huge double bed with a sleeping Brutus. He was lying face down, breathing heavily.

“Wake him. Nicely. Lick his arse.” With that, Stella left the room for her early morning run.

Jane looked about. Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds. There didn't seem to be anybody else there. For a ridiculous moment she thought about escape. Then she sighed and slipped underneath the covers. Brutus, a man old enough to be her father, was hirsute, naked and sweaty. She grimaced. It was relentless. Last thing at night she was licking Stella's bottom. First thing this morning, kissing Brutus's.

Carefully she slid into position between his legs and put her tongue to his hairy cheeks in the dark. She felt him stir. She was certain that Stella would check later she'd done it. Jane pushed her tongue inside and kissed softly with her lips.

She was rewarded with a soft murmur. He was coming round.

She lapped again, up and down in gentle, reverent motions.

She was rewarded with a loud rumble, a huge sonorous early morning flatulent fart. It exploded with a gust of wind on her face.

For two seconds she backed off, horrified. He just seemed to have ignored her presence. The stench under the sheet was awful but she put her lips back and tongued him again. Tears of shame pricked her eyes.

He murmured again, louder, and shifted in the bed. His buttocks spread open, pushing slightly against her face. Reluctantly she pushed forwards.

Suddenly, the covers shifted over Jane's head. She blinked and saw Lavinia, the woman Brutus had cruelly renamed Lavatory, looking at her. She was a brunette, with stunning high cheekbones, lovely brown eyes like chocolates, perfect firm high tits that Jane was jealous of, and a slim but gracious body. She looked like fashion models used to before the Pestilence destroyed the fashion industry. Lavinia frantically gestured for Jane to get out of the bed.

Jane shook her head.

“He said I had to wake him this morning.” Lavinia whispered.

“No, I was just ordered to … wake him. By his wife.”

Suddenly Brutus turned over, awake, and squinted at them. His eyes were full of sleep, his face creased, dark with a heavy stubble.

“Mmm .. nice wake up call.” He pulled Lavinia down into the bed. “Come here Lavvy.” He ran his hands up and down her flanks, over her nipples and kissed her. He reached down and stroked her bald mons. The words ‘I love Brutus' had been neatly tattooed there in black ink inside a scarlet heart.

Jane looked at him. He grinned back lewdly at her, fingering Lavinia's labia open.

“Make yourself useful. Kiss this beautiful cunt for me.”

Shocked at his crude dismissal of her, Jane felt her eyes sting with tears again. She crawled across the bed and put her face between Lavinia's thighs.

In turn, Brutus pulled Lavinia's mouth over to his jutting erection.

After a few moments, Jane heard him ask her. “That good, Lavvy ? Enjoy it ? How do you like the feel of a tongue in your pussy ?”

Lavinia moaned. Jane had no idea if it was genuine or not. She was certainly lubricating but that didn't have to mean she was enjoying it. Jane felt humiliated preparing her like this. She knew that she was not bad looking herself but Lavinia was gorgeous. Doing this made her feel terribly inferior. Somehow it was worse than pleasuring Stella had been.

“Move.” Brutus pushed Jane away and slid in between Lavinia's long legs, easing himself up into her now moist body in one smooth motion.

“Mmm .. that's gooooood.” He said. Then he turned and looked at Jane spitefully. She was watching them, kneeling on her haunches.

“ You can go back to kissing my butthole.”

Jane lowered her eyes. She had no experience. Just one boyfriend and then Jim. But no man, no person, had ever made her feel so devalued.

She knelt behind him and began licking as best she could in time with his lazy movements. Each time he thrust back towards her, his cheeks spread wide, clammy, bashing her face. She shut her eyes and thought of Jim. Where was he ? Why oh why was all this happening ?

“Oh, by the way,” Brutus said, peering at her over his shoulder, “I remember from your file. You're 28 years old today, right ?”

She had forgotten. “Mmph … yeth…” she mumbled into his crack.

He chuckled and winked before turning away. “Happy Birthday.”

07.30 hrs

Surgery opened at half past seven except for overnight emergencies.

First up for Doctor Sadie Thorne that morning was Susannah, the 32 year old who had entertained BJ and his friends on the Sexercycle the previous evening. She had since spent an uncomfortable night hunched into a small mesh cage in an underground cellar, with only rats and spiders for company.

Now she was strapped into a gynaecological chair, long athletic legs placed wide and high in stirrups, buttocks hanging over the edge of the half-seat.

It was the Doctor's job to pass Susannah fit for further mistreatment. Although primarily a plastic surgeon, Sadie was well qualified in medical basics, and she took her role seriously. She was a late middle aged woman with a brusque manner, a matronly physique, grey hair and a white medical coat. She had inserted a steel speculum into Susannah's vagina and was now exploring inside using a camera probe that displayed the image on a screen. She checked for internal damage caused by the previous evening's deep intrusions. The relentless plumbing by a 9 inch (23 cms) long plastic phallus had done no material harm inside but its 2 ½ inch diameter ribbed thickness had definitely left her opening dilated and loose. Sadie smiled and made a note on her clipboard.

Next she inspected Susannah's sphincter and rectum. Here, there was evidence that the combination of the random 3 to 10 inches penetration, the burning gel and the 2 inch diameter thickness had caused severe abrasions that would take weeks to heal fully. In the meantime, natural bodily functions would prove most uncomfortable for Susannah. Worse perhaps, it was likely that the exhaustion of her sphincter muscle would make bowel control temporarily very difficult indeed, leading to discomfort, leakage and hence further punishment. Sadie ran a rubber gloved finger nail over the bright red soreness around Susannah's slack anal opening, making her hiss with a sharp intake of breath, and wince.

“Sore ?”

Susannah nodded her head. Her once chic, brunette hairstyle had been shaved to a convict stubble and her classically beautiful features were etched with pain.

“Yes, Doctor.”

Doctor Thorne smiled and made another note. She laid down the clipboard and stood between Susannah's thighs, reaching up to feel her modest but perfect handfuls, thumbing her retracted frightened nipples, then down over her taut ribcage.

“You should have thought of that before you spat into the food on that tray, shouldn't you ?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“You wouldn't do it again, would you ?”

“No, Doctor.”

“Open your mouth.”

Susannah gulped. Reluctantly, she opened her jaws wide.

Sadie opened a cupboard. There was an array of bottles and vials, all clearly labelled with very specific contents and dates. It looked a bit like a sweetshop with clear and sickly coloured fluids inside the glass containers. She removed a tall glass bottle. It was clearly labelled. She lifted it down so that Susannah could see it. The translucent liquid was a glutinous cloudy mix, with tiny bubbles. Slowly, she uncorked the bottle and teasingly emptied a small ‘tasting dollop' onto Susannah's tongue.

“Swallow.”

Susannah almost retched but managed to force it down. The smell of the liquid was strong, musky, a blend of stale body odour and fish guts.

The Doctor kept patiently pouring in bursts, filling Susannah's mouth to the brim with generous doses, then allowing her time to swallow, gulp and gasp, before holding her head still again. It took over five minutes for the bottle to empty completely. Susannah managed to drink the lot, although she nearly vomited several times.

Sadie smiled as she placed the empty bottle on the side so that the label was in full view again. BULL SEMEN AND HUMAN SPIT. On the next line it said, FRESH and was dated the previous day in marker pen. The quantity was 0.375 litres, the same as a half bottle of wine.

“Well done. I think that our spit is a little tastier than yours ! Now, I also think you are fine.” She said, patting Susannah on the flank. “So, we can continue with your punishment schedule for two or three more days at least. Your arse needs a rest but they have you down for mouth, tit and cunt punishment today, so that will be perfect.”

Susannah began to snivel.

“Pl … please, no ! I can't take any more. Please, you're a doctor. Tell them I can't, I beg you.”

Doctor Thorne shook her head. “Nonsense. Your body can take a great deal more. We have to make a proper example of you.”

She pushed a switch and moments later two burly guards appeared, to release Susannah from the chair and drag her sobbing hysterically down the corridor.

Next up for Doctor Thorne was Gemma. She voluntarily lay in the couch while Sadie strapped her legs into the stirrups.

“So,” she said, “Lara wants your clitoris numbed, does she ?”

Gemma nodded uncertainly.

“Did she catch you masturbating ?”

“No … Mistr … I mean Doctor.”

Sadie skilfully probed and unhooded Gemma's clitoris.

“No ? Do you masturbate ?”

“Never …. well, not since I came here, Doctor.”

Sadie smiled, teasing a finger up and down Gemma's dry slit.

“Well you won't be able to once I've injected it with this.”

She lifted up a large syringe with a long needle and showed it to Gemma.

“In case you were wondering, yes it will hurt. No simple prick and it's done. This injection takes a couple of minutes to administer. You must remain completely still, understood ?”

Gemma nodded slowly.

“The needle itself will hurt. The fact that it's going into your clit will hurt even more. Soon your whole vaginal area will start to burn intensely, probably for about ten minutes. After that, everything will return pretty much to normal except you won't feel a thing … there … for at least a week, probably nearer two.” She waved the syringe. “Extra large dose, you see.”

Sadie splayed open Gemma's labial lips as wide as she could.

“Shift your butt forward slightly. Good. Okay, now keep completely still and silent. If you don't, I will use an even longer, thicker needle.”

Gemma grimaced in silent agony as the tip pierced her tender sex.

08.10 hrs

Stella sat naked at her dressing table. After her early morning run around the compound, accompanied by her pack of four trained hounds, she had showered and was now getting ready for another ‘action packed' day. It had been hot outside, around 90 degrees Fahrenheit. So much for global cooling ! All the State Meteorologists had been saying temperatures would fall now that fossil fuels were used much less. No sign of that yet.

Her personal male slave, One, served her a tray of hot cappuccino, freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, iced water and pastries. Smiling at him, she trailed a hand over his shaved, semi-erect penis and groin. It twitched.

“Don't go getting any ideas.” She said. “That's it for a while. Three weeks minimum. I don't want you getting thoughts above your station.”

Only a sharp eye would have picked up his blink of disappointment.

“Of course, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”

Stella took a sip of her coffee. “Bring the new bitch to me.”

While she waited, Stella stared at her reflection. She was proud, overall, of her looks; a bit heavy in the bottom now, a bit pear shaped overall, some cellulite, a few lines around the eyes, but still an attractive woman for her forty years, with a firm jaw, ice blue eyes, plump breasts and a narrow waist. She ran her fingers over her thick nipples and down to her pubic hair. Not past her “use by date” yet ! The running and the sex would keep her in good enough shape for a while. She grabbed a cream silk robe from off the back of a chair and shucked it on. Being undressed would not set the right tone this morning.

She turned her gaze on One, and Jane who was totally naked, as they entered the bedroom. Considering the past 24 hours, Stella thought Jane looked pretty good. Her red-rimmed eyes were sunken but her shoulder length blonde hair still had been brushed to a sheen, and her face was remarkably unblemished. With the right make up, she would look the perfect whore.

“Ah, Jane. Happy Birthday, my dear.”

Jane turned her gaze down towards the floor.

“Did you have a nice breakfast ?” Stella asked.

“…. Y…yes Mistress.”

“Good. Come here. Look at me.”

Stella hefted one of Jane's breasts in her fingers. Her big tits were pale, with soft pink nipples, and veins just visible below the flesh.

“I've arranged a nice birthday party for you today.” She ran her thumb casually over Jane's nipple. “Like yesterday, you'll be the centre of attention ! But on a grander scale. Remind me, how many people had you, er … made love to, up until the day before yesterday ?”

A teardrop splashed onto Jane's breast. Stella thumbed it away.

“T… two, Mistress.”

Stella fingered open Jane's labial lips.

“Two ? That's a bit mean isn't it ? Sexy 27 … er … 28 year old like you. I'll bet you wanted to fuck other guys, married to somebody like Jim ?”

Jane stifled a sob and shook her head, staring at the floor again.

“Turn around and bend over.”

Jane slowly obeyed. One grabbed her neck and pushed it down firmly.

Stella smiled at him and ran her fingers over the ridged bruises on Jane's buttocks, admiring the dull red, yellow and bluish tramlines.

“Look up at me through your legs, young lady.”

Stella winked back at Jane's awkward gaze and pushed a fingernail into the puckered orifice. Jane's body twitched and she muttered an ‘ouch'.

“And just one dick up this arse until now, right ? My darling husband's. I get jealous Janie. I don't like my man being the only one. He might value your pert little backdoor too highly. You see, I've never let him, or anybody else for that matter, do me there.”

Using both her hands, Stella hauled Jane's buttocks wide apart.

“Anal work is slave's work. So is cunt and mouth of course, but anal in particular. I wanted you to know that in advance. By tonight, this tight back passage is going to be … well … not so tight !”

Stella patted Jane's tender bottom, smirking at her red, upside down face.

“Stand up and look at me.”

She waited for her to turn around so she could continue to her face.

“In some ways I envy you. Uninhibited, guilt free sex. Loads of it. Look, if you had gone away for a romantic weekend with Jim and fucked him twelve times - if he was man enough for that of course - you'd think nothing of it. Would you ? You'd be flattered. It wouldn't do that …” - Stella poked at Jane's pubic mound - “… any harm at all would it ? So what's the difference between fucking one man twelve times and fucking twelve men once, eh ?” Stella opened her palms enquiringly. “The only difference is the fussiness of a woman's pride. But her cunt doesn't know the difference between one cock or twelve !”

Jane's face had crumpled again. She mouthed ‘twelve' silently, shaking her head slightly from side to side, knees quivering.

Stella smiled inwardly. It was best to break them into the idea slowly. At one o'clock, Jane would think her dreadful ordeal was over, after she had ‘entertained' twelve men. But in fact, as she would discover, it would be just beginning. By the end of today, she would realise that at lunchtime she'd in fact been only a quarter of the way through her daily quota ! And the whole of today would be caught on several cameras for later viewing.

“I'm sure it will be more interesting than just fucking Jim. Imagine, all those different dicks; long ones, fat ones, old ones, young ones, warty ones, every shape and colour. What a treat. Well ?” Stella said.

Jane looked puzzled through tearful eyes.

“It's customary for the birthday girl to say thank you for her present.”

“Th … thank you … Mistress.”

Stella shrugged. A nice touch would be making Jane spend many hours overnight handwriting to each person who had fucked her to say an effusive thank you for doing so. She made a mental note to ensure the brothel manager supervised it .

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Enjoy ! And have a nice day !”

She nodded dismissively at One who escorted Jane from the bedroom.

08.35 hrs

Lara giggled at Gemma, who was scarlet faced and heavily perspiring. She was kneeling on the floor eating the special breakfast that Lara had arranged for her, from a bowl laid on a low table. Nobody much cares for curry at eight thirty in the morning. Still less a super-hot and spicy Vindaloo curry. And even less a ‘curry slurry'. The previous evening, at Lara's request, the chef had brewed up an a la carte dish of liquidized offal, mainly giblets and intestines, to which he had added several heaped spoons of curry powder and red chillies, leaving it to simmer overnight.

The helping was enormous. The deep bowl had been filled to the brim. Painfully slowly, Gemma was working her way through it. Lara sat watching her put her mouth to the swill to suck up mouthfuls of the brutally spicy brown mixture. Gemma gasped, panted and gulped, steam almost visibly rising from her ears and nostrils as she ate. It was a small mercy that the curry disguised the worst of the taste of putrid meat.

Lara popped another piece of warm, buttered croissant into her own mouth.

“Come on, doll. Faster, or I might think you would prefer something else.”

Gemma looked up at her through her steamed up spectacles and red, watering eyes and shook her head. She buried her face in the bowl and slurped up an especially large mouthful.

Lara smiled. Gemma didn't know it but the mixture contained another ingredient, added that morning, so that the effects wouldn't be cooked away. A powerful laxative ! Within an hour or so, she would be full to bursting and desperate to void her bowels. Needless to say, Lara had no intention of letting her off that easily. The interesting email she had received would see to that.

“Even faster. Hoover it all up. I want that bowl licked sparkling clean.”

09.10 hrs

Joelle lovingly suckled Brutus Junior's wake-up erection. He was laying back, hands behind his head, knees splayed, grinning down at her. She was hunched awkwardly between his legs with her huge pregnant belly off to the side, smiling back up at him as she teased his length with her tongue. Every bone in her body hated him but each morning she swallowed her pride, and his salty load, for the sake of her unborn child and her ex-husband. The child was BJ's and the product of their forced marriage, but still Joelle loved it already and knew she was now helpless emotionally as well as physically. And she knew there was little she could do for Pierre now, but at least he was still alive and the more she pleased BJ, the more merciful he was likely to be, she hoped.

She recognised by his moans and shifting body that she had him near the edge. She was not allowed to use her fingers or hands on him at all. He liked what he called ‘proper BJs', not ‘wanks'. It had taken her ages, hours of practise, to learn to do it just as he liked. The key was not to rush, and not to gag, and to get him into the back of her throat whilst breathing through her nose, so he could literally fuck her tonsils. She alternated this with sexy eyes, loving licks, and sucking the crown of his penis with just the right amount of pressure. He liked to come on her tongue, at the front of her mouth not the back, so that she tasted him and could slide it around her teeth, gums and palate before swallowing.

He thrust and she moaned excitedly as what he laughingly referred to as her ‘petit dejeuner' was served. Thick warm jets hit the top of her mouth and spattered bitterly all over her tongue.

“Mmm … mmmmmmmmmmmmmm …. mmmm.”

They exhaled in unison. Anybody would think Joelle was in orgasmic ecstasy as she pleasured her young ‘husband'. BJ insisted that she show enjoyment, even though he had never made any effort to make it better for her. She'd had little experience other than Pierre but she couldn't imagine a more lazy, egocentric or selfish partner. He seemed to think that by just manically banging away at her with the over-sized penis that he'd inherited from that brute of a father of his should be enough to drive her wild. She had long ago learned to fake orgasms on the few occasions, thankfully, he fucked her. He mainly preferred her to suck him and expected her to love doing it. She had soon learned to bring herself to the only real orgasms she had, when he made her entertain him by masturbating herself with her fingers, a vibrator, or even a humiliating piece of fruit or vegetable.

“Mmm …” she opened her lips wide to show him his load and ran her tongue along her upper lip several times appreciatively. Slowly she let it all trickle down the back of her throat, with her head back and eyes shut.

“Thank you.” She said, kissing the dribble of come that had appeared at the slit of his cock. “A little minty, this morning, I think.”

BJ grinned at her, contentedly. He thrust a hand roughly inside her black lace negligee and squeezed her cleavage. “Go make breakfast.”

09.20 hrs

Gemma was heaving for breath, sucking up huge lungfuls of air. Were they called Jumping Jacks or Star Jumps ? She was too exhausted to remember. Lara had her doing jumping exercises, clapping her hands above her head while opening her legs wide, then snapping her arms back down to her side and hopping her legs together. Repeat. Repeat. One jump per second. In bursts of thirty, followed by a short respite to get her breath back, and then another set of thirty. In all, she had already done one hundred and eighty.

Before them, she had been made to do push ups, stomach crunches, knee squats and jogging on the spot. Lara's excuse for this physical torture was that she was fat and untoned, although Gemma knew that she was actually underweight from the awful diet.

“Let's do one more set, shall we ?” The ‘cow' said, smirking.

Gemma sucked in a large breath, stood to attention and began to jump. Her glasses bounced on the bridge of her nose and her breasts flopped about across her chest as if they had a mind of her own. They hurt. But not as much as the stitch in her side and the gradual cramping in her stomach. She felt nauseous from the physical effort, especially so soon after a heavy meal. Light headed, she did her best to focus straight ahead. The cow wasn't even looking at her any more, she was flicking through a sheaf of papers she'd downloaded from her computer. Occasionally she looked up and checked on the quality of Gemma's jumps.

“Arms higher you lazy slut. And legs wide ! ” She shouted, before looking down again.

Gemma gasped as her breakfast quietly repeated on her. The strong curry belch tasted awful in her dry mouth. Worse, she felt the need to pass wind from below, something she knew that the cow would be furious about. One of the first rules every slave learned was that all bodily functions, including eating, drinking, urinating, defecating, even sneezing and farting, and especially climaxing, were strictly forbidden without prior permission.

Gemma counted the thirty jumps, arms and legs aching, and worst of all her stomach lurching up and down.

Twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty. She stopped and bent over. Her spectacles tumbled onto the floor. Like a knife, the sudden clench of her guts, made her wince. She knew she was going to have to ask permission to use the toilet.

09.25 hrs

“I'm off to the little room.” Brutus announced.

Stella glanced up from her papers and nodded. He picked up his glowing cigar and the movie script he was reading.

“Come with me.” He said to Lavatory, who was kneeling alongside her husband Bidet. “And you too. Bring my coffee.”

The ‘little room' was, in fact, not so little. It was Brutus's sanctuary, a luxuriously carpeted, book-lined library cum lavatory with a toilet mounted on a throne, a side table with bottles, creams and an ashtray on it, a large basin and gilt mirror, and a plasma screen on the back of the door. There was at least enough room for three people to swing a cat.

Brutus had long since lost any embarrassment about performing his ablutions in front of others. The first couple of times he'd been a bit sheepish, but now it was second nature. He placed the script on the table and cigar in the ashtray, before raising his arms outwards.

The beautiful female slave stood and loosened the belt of his silk robe, easing back the folds to reveal his hairy gut and genitals. He sat down on the seat and picked up his cigar, chomping on it.

“You.” He said to Bidet. “Lie down, head this end, face up.”

The tall, handsome, naked male slave immediately obeyed.

“Sit yourself down on his face.”

She placed one foot either side of the prostrated head, facing Brutus, and elegantly bent her legs, lowering her mons with the ‘I love Brutus' in a heart tattoo, until she was astride her husband's face. Her vagina, still damp and fishy with Brutus's load from two hours earlier, made a slight squishing sound as she settled her full weight down.

Brutus nudged the man with his foot. “Make love to your missus.”

He smiled at the woman. Fuck she was gorgeous. He leaned forward and ran his fingers up through her hair, lifting loose strands from her forehead. Her eyes looked at him humbly, petrified, pert lips slightly apart, revealing her small white teeth. A slight flutter of her lashes suggested her husband's tongue had got to work.

“I want to see you come.” He said, in a kind tone. “Enjoy yourself. But don't you dare even think about faking it. And …” he pulled her head down to his groin, “… in the meantime …”

He settled back on the toilet seat and flicked his cigar, before draining his cup of coffee.

Her warm lips encircled his semi-soft penis and her tongue fluttered around it, instantly making him thicken. He ran a finger gently over the back of her neck, admiring the curve of her spine. He parted his thighs as wide as was comfortable and pushed her a touch lower. Moments later he passed a loud trumpet of gas and shut his eyes contentedly.

He could feel the main event arriving. By now, he was fully hard and too thick for her small mouth to do more than worship the crown. He grunted and unleashed a huge volley of excrement, neither solid nor diarrhoea, just the nice, easy to pass kind. Almost immediately, a thick stench wafted up through the gap in his legs, filling the little room.

After the explosion there was total silence. Just the tiniest murmur from her lips as she diligently continued to suck him, as if oblivious to the fact that he was taking a dump while she orally served him.

He reached under her head and she shifted to give his right hand access to tweak her pert tit as he relaxed and unloaded a second, smaller volley into the toilet pan. He loved the efficiency of the whole thing. He had a meeting at 10 o'clock but this way he could enjoy a shit and a blow job, ridding his body of two needs, in the time it would otherwise take to achieve one or the other. And it made an event out of something as mundane as taking a dump. The air was thick with the heavy aroma. He picked up the script and began to read again.

09.28 hrs

Lara stood back to admire her handiwork. Gemma was suspended in the centre of her bedroom, wrists in a spreader bar chained to a bolt in the wooden beam, and ankles chained wide apart to bolts in the floor. Every nerve and sinew stood out as Gemma's glistening body strained for comfort. Lara pulled up a stool and sat in front of her naked slave.

09.32 hrs

Brutus lifted her mouth off his glistening erection. She had begun moaning meaningfully, moving her hips just slightly.

“You going to come ?”

She looked up at him, relieved, or embarrassed, or both. She nodded, eyes half shut.

He held her earlobes and leaned forward and kissed her kindly.

“Come, Lavvy. On your hubbie's chops. You're making love together. Wifey and her husband. Let yourself go.”

She hissed, and gave a muted squeal, then climaxed silently, as if she was ashamed to admit what had happened. Brutus watched her expression, inches from her face, enjoying a glimpse inside her soul.

Then he pulled her mouth back down to his sweating inner thighs.

“My turn.”

She hadn't yet learned well enough to do the ‘hands free' job. He let her use her delicate fingers to pump his shaft while she slobbered over his purple crown, and soon he was spurting pearly gobbets over her palate and gums. She looked up at him in the eye as he had taught her, while she swallowed his second donation of the day. Like she was honoured.

He let her wipe his bottom gently and carefully with soft white tissue. Bidet knelt beside her, supporting the toilet roll between two index fingers like a human roll holder. The boy's face shone wetly, unwashed. Next Bidet ran a basin full of hot water and then towelled Brutus's hands dry.

Finally, Lavatory carefully tightened the cord of Brutus's silk robe.

Bidet looked at him for permission to push the flush, knowing it was entirely possible that he would instead be made to clean the toilet out manually.

Brutus nodded magnanimously. Smiling at them like a doting grandfather, he strode out of the little room, with his two new favourites following, carrying the script and empty coffee cup.

09.35 hrs

Lara ran the feather up inside Gemma's cunt lips, grazing her clitoris.

“You can't feel a thing ?”

“Not on the clitoris, Mistress ? Just a tickle elsewhere, Mistress.”

Lara laughed aloud, discarding the feather.

“Excellent.”

She leaned her head close to Gemma's taut stomach.

“Was that a tummy rumble I heard ?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Naughty, naughty. That counts as a bodily function you know. You should have asked permission.”

“Sorry, Mistress.” Gemma's face screwed up. “Ple …” Then she stopped, seeming to have thought better of it.

“What ?” Lara asked in a teasing, sing-song voice. “Go on.”

“Please, Mistress. I need to do another … tummy rumble Mistress.”

Lara ran a fingernail through the ‘brazilian' strip of pubic hair that Gemma had been allowed to keep, up into her belly button.

“Go on then.”

There was a distinct sound, like a creaking door.

Lara chuckled and fetched the sheaf of papers she'd downloaded earlier. It was time for Gemma to understand the rules of this game.

“Tell me about Don.” She said.

Gemma reacted like a startled rabbit. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.

“D …. Don ?”

Lara was delighted. She flicked through the pages.

“Here we are. Two known boyfriends. One, Don Wilson. Born October First, 1980. Dated her for around six months in 2005.” Lara proferred a grainy black and white image. Grainy, but clear enough. It showed a young man and a younger Gemma smiling side by side. “See ?”

“Oh … Don. Yes, Mistress. He was a fr … friend of mine.”

“And how about Steve ?”

“Yes, Mistress. He was my boyfriend when I was arrested, Mistress.”

“Yes. Interesting.” Lara said, stretching out the word interesting. “I thought you'd gone bankrupt. But this Stalitz Report tells me that, in fact, you were arrested for stealing.”

Gemma grimaced as her stomach gave a deep growl.

“Yes Mistress. I'm sorry Mistress.”

Lara decided to ignore the infraction. “What did you steal ?”

“A bag of sausages, Mistress.”

Lara smiled. “Mmm. The most expensive half dozen sausages you ever ate, right ?”

Gemma stared straight ahead. “I was arrested before we could eat them, Mistress.”

Lara arched an eyebrow. “We ? It says you were arrested alone.”

Gemma gulped. “Please, Mistress. I need … to g.. go to the toilet.”

“Stuff and nonsense.” Lara barked, sharply. “You will learn to control yourself.” She paused to pick up the feather. “Now, who was your accomplice ?”

“Nobody, Mistress. I meant ‘we' meaning anybody I might have shared them with. Lots of people were hungry, Mistress. Bankrupt, starving.”

Lara moved the stool round Gemma and sat on it behind her, facing her bottom. She trailed the feather slowly across Gemma's pale globes.

“Just because a few people are hungry doesn't mean they can steal.” Lara admonished, mouthing the State's policy line. She tilted the feather and eased it, ever so slowly, between the curves of Gemma's crack.

“Aah … ngh …” Gemma murmured a grunt of shock.

Lara smiled quietly and removed the feather momentarily.

“Tell me about Michelle then.”

“M … Michelle ?”

Lara slid the feather up into the entrance to Gemma's bottom.

“Yes, your best friend, Michelle.”

Gemma's body seemed to sag slightly, as much as was possible the way she was strung up taut and spread eagled.

“She was … I lived with her Mistress.”

“Aha. And I thought I was your first female lover !”

“No, Mistress. I mean you are. Michelle is a friend, Mistress. We both … she liked men, Mistress.”

Gemma's stomach growled loudly again. Her buttocks clenched around the feather that Lara had inserted an inch or so inside.

“Control, please.” Said Lara, secretly delighted. “And where is this Michelle now ?” she asked.

“I don't know, Mistress. I last saw her the morning I was arrested. I have never seen or heard of her again, Mistress.”

Lara twisted the feather.

“But I know where she is.”

Gemma's mouth gave an audible pop as her jaw fell open.

Lara teased the feather in and out, very slowly.

“At the moment, she's at the Stalitz Offices on suspicion of being your accomplice.”

Gemma groaned. This time the sound came from her mouth, not her stomach.

“I think she's probably guilty, don't you ?”

Lara climbed off the stool and left the feather poking out of Gemma's backside like a flag in a conquered mountain. She walked round to look Gemma in the face. With a grin, Lara lifted the spectacles and perched them on top of Gemma's hair, so she could stare deep into her eyes.

“You can be the jury.”

It was a joke. Juries no longer existed. The State Judges made all decisions. But people still remembered what a jury was.

Gemma blinked uncertainly. “I … jury … how, Mistress ?”

Lara leant forward and kissed Gemma full on the lips, giving her the tip of her tongue for a second.

“You have to exercise control.” She giggled.

Gemma frowned, still confused.

“It's simple.” Said Lara, thoroughly enjoying herself. “If you keep control of your bowels for as long as I say, then your dear friend Michelle is innocent. But if you lose control at any time beforehand, I'm afraid she'll be found guilty and sentenced to slavery. For life of course.”

Gemma understood. She seemed to get renewed strength. Her body tightened and her eyes focused.

“H .. how long, please, Mistress ? Will you t … tell me, how long ?”

Lara turned a full circle with excitement. What a game !

“Six hours.” She said. “One for each sausage that you stole.”

Gemma's eyes screwed slowly shut. She sagged again in her chains.

“I … I can't …. ple … Mistress … less …”

Lara shrugged. “At least you can do your friend the favour of trying. If you don't even try, she hasn't got a chance, poor bitch.”

Lara left Gemma with that thought and walked through to the bathroom. She wanted to give Gemma time to steel herself. It wouldn't be fun if she didn't suffer the agonies of trying to hold out for a while at least.

Lara sat on the toilet and sprayed her coffee and juice into the removable plastic pan that sat under the seat and above the flushable water. After she'd thoroughly relieved herself, she lifted the pan out and tipped the contents into a small barrel like container she kept in a cupboard next to the toilet. She smiled happily and began to hum a little song.

10.06 hrs

Jane's mind screamed silently as she lay back on the sofa and let the grey haired man mount her. The brothel manager had introduced him as an important State Official, her ‘first trick'. He had unzipped his fly and ordered Jane onto her knees to suck him. He smelt of mothballs. When his uncircumsized penis stiffened, Jane recoiled from stuff that looked and stank like an old French cheese, revealed as his foreskin slipped back. He made her carefully lick it all off and swallow it, slapping her cheek hard when she retched. Then, satisfied, he pushed her onto the sofa and made her rub herself while he watched. At last, when she had managed to conjure up a bit of moisture, he impatiently leaned forward to mount her.

Now, he had rolled over and made her climb on top so that she could do the hard work. He reached up and used his thumb and index fingers to squeeze her nipples roughly, his yellow teeth biting his lower lip as he scowled at her. Jane had never known a man who seemed to have so much immediate rage.

“Faster, slut.” He hissed.

Jane bounced up and down as if her life depended on it. Horrified, she caught sight of herself in the big mirror on the wall. Her D cup breasts were bouncing and her hair was flying as she worked to bring this awful old guy off.

At last she heard him making tell tale sounds. She shocked herself by contracting her vaginal muscles together, trying to finish him. What the hell did she care if it was good for him ? Ashamed, she still bounced and squeezed as best she could, as she felt his hot wetness invading her. She looked down at her ‘first trick', appalled to think she had another eleven more to go.

10.07 hrs

Jim was shaking his head, as best he could, sobbing. Yesterday had been terrible, but this ? Not rape, but prostitution ? He was fastened into a pillory, his neck and wrists locked into holes in the wooden frame. Wooden pegs connected to headphones held his head facing straight forwards, so that he couldn't turn away from the action taking place the other side of the glass. He was at an awkward angle, with his back bent and his bottom sticking out, but no amount of physical discomfort could compare with the mental turmoil he felt watching Jane whoring herself for some old bastard.

The guards had fixed wireless headphones to his head before the start. The volume was turned up incredibly high and he suspected there must be numerous high quality microphones in the next room because every slap of flesh on flesh and grunting expulsion of breath was loud and distinct.

Jim heard the guy making tell tale sounds. He was going to shoot into Jane's pussy. His pussy, that should be Jim's pussy, not any other guy, damned them. He watched his wife bouncing, tits and hair flying, and saw her looking down into the old guy's face. Her expression said it all.

10.08 hrs

The suspect fought. But, outside of those pre-Pestilence movies featuring martial arts women, no female can beat five males, and especially not five highly trained, 6' plus tall, Stalitz interrogators, when she is only 5 ft 4 ins tall. They had decided to extract a confession from Michelle, assuming they would get the call saying she was guilty. It would speed up the paperwork. If the call said she was innocent, so be it. There was nothing an ordinary citizen could do against the dreaded Stalitz Police.

First they raped her. Not really as part of the interrogation, but simply because they all fancied the sexy, unemployed actress. She was a strawberry blonde, aged 23 according to her papers, with refined, well bred features and an arse that looked great in the denim shorts she'd been wearing when they picked her up. They tied her over the desk in an interrogation room and banged her front and back, singly and in pairs, passing the early morning pleasantly.

Next they used the electric shock Q & A machine, attached to her nipples, and it took a mere sixteen minutes for her to make a recorded voluntary confession on camera, with a signed statement to the same effect.

At just after ten o'clock, they left her tied there sobbing and went about their other business, awaiting their boss's call.

10.09 hrs

BJ sat nervously in front of his computer screen. He had logged onto the ‘e-slave' site and was ready to bid online on several families for the Corporation's new project. The Government channel had signed up for a new series that BJ had developed called “Family Fortunes”, a show that would pit competing slave families against each other in a range of events. Furthermore, BJ had managed to engage the legendary SMC himself to direct the first episode. BJ had already decided that Neil and his family were going to be in it, and the task today was to acquire at least one suitable 4-person family to battle it out with them.

He was sitting on a specially adapted, padded bench seat with a long box below it, into which Tammy Evans was locked face up. He enjoyed her wet tongue darting through a small gap, into and out of his backside, as he waited for the auction to begin. Squirming with anticipation, he licked his thin lips, as the screen signalled the introduction of the first Lot.

10.10 hrs

Stella sat in the central Monitoring Room. It was located in the basement of the old Hotel, which now housed the brothel. The room contained over 200 screen monitors, with a small group of people, known as monitors, sat looking at them, like air traffic controllers used to, when plane travel was commonplace. About half the screens displayed CCTV shots of the Compound for security reasons, constantly flicking from one camera view to another every few seconds, so that the monitors could check for any untoward activity anywhere within the three square miles. The other half of the screens showed fixed views from inside the brothel rooms and the film and TV studios. These were for filming and entertainment.

Stella sipped at a mug of coffee, lit a cigarette and checked in on a few locations. She smiled at close ups of Jane and her first trick, And of Jim sobbing as he watched from the viewing closet. As usual, she checked in on her 48 year old school teacher embarking on yet another gruelling day of pleasing teenage boys, and of her own ex-boyfriend who was already hard at work with a couple of gay punters. She made a mental note to have a nice chat with him soon.

But the big excitement was in Studio 2. There was already a ‘full house' sign posted outside the locked door. Stella's eyes flicked to the neighbouring monitor and saw that both audience sectors were already full. In the front sector, the seats were reserved for people who knew the participants, usually ex-school friends, ex-colleagues, ex-competitors, ex-partners, who just those who'd known them socially. In the rear sector, the seats were awarded partly by lottery and partly on a first come, first served basis. ‘ER' was without doubt the most popular show on pay-per-view, and people made long journeys by foot, horse, cart and occasionally car for the thrill of seeing it being made live.

Looking at the chanting, excited audience on the monitor, Stella felt a buzz of pride. ‘ER' was her creation. It was a phenomenon. And in twenty minutes, the next show would start.

10.11 hrs

Brutus smiled at his guest from the Great American Alliance. (As will be explained in Part Four), the American continent had split into two parts. Unfortunately, they were a bit ‘behind the times'. Slavery there was restricted by a charter that prevented American slaves from being sexually exploited. As a result, the Pornographic Movie business had drifted inexorably in Europe's favour, partly for financial reasons and partly due to audience preferences. Costs in Europe were much less as America still had to pay actresses and actors to perform, so the Europeans could undercut American DVD and TV prices. But, more importantly, American films still had to pretend the performers were ‘willing', even though they were only doing it for money. European films suffered from no such limitations and the consumers voted which they preferred with their pockets.

“More coffee ?” Brutus asked.

They were sat in a viewing gallery above Studio 3. Below them a scene from ‘The Return of the Home Invaders' was being shot. It looked realistic, because it was.

“Yeah, sure.” The American replied. He was a similar age to Brutus. Nobody knew his real name. But he was called the Rhino. Some people said it was because of his nose, fleshy and big, and it had definitely been broken a couple of times. Other people, mainly but not exclusively women, knew it had nothing to do with his nose. He was big, barrel of a man with long, greasy hair tied behind his head in a ponytail.

Bidet reacted immediately by rushing forward with a pot to top up the guest's cup. Nobody acknowledged him.

“So ?” Brutus said, looking down at the filming.

The Rhino grinned back at him, shifting in his seat.

The couple whose ‘home' had been ‘invaded' had been overpowered. They were reacting realistically because they were a married couple who had been purchased just a week earlier. They had been segregated from the main compound and treated well. Until now. The promise of freedom guaranteed that they would put up a desperate effort while the twenty different cameras rolled. Some were large scale movie cameras mounted on cranes and tripods, others were micro cameras hidden in the walls and furniture. The dozen invaders had made it inside the studio home with just a few bruises from the husband's desperate swings with the light club he'd been armed with. Now, the wife was being held down by several jeering men and ravaged for the first of many times.

The American looked down at Lavatory who had carefully pulled down his pants and been reverently sucking his cock since the start of the meeting.

“Shit, man.” He said. “I just love this. And you mean to say that guy there really is this lady's old man ?”

Brutus beamed. “More like her young man, I'd say.”

The Rhino chuckled. “Yeah. May I ?”

“Be my guest.”

They both turned to look at Bidet. Rhino crooked his thick finger.

“Here, boy.”

Bidet placed the coffee pot on a table and scuttled over. Rhino reached out and touched the brutally small, two inch long steel tube that was locked onto Bidet's crushed manhood. There was just a tiny hole at the top for urine to pass through. He flicked it. Bidet flinched.

“Kneel down behind your lady and stroke her tits for me.”

Pausing for only a split second, Bidet knelt and placed his naked body right behind Lavatory's, reaching his hands round and fondling her pert breasts. She ignored him and concentrated on the task in hand, or rather, mouth. Rhino winked at Brutus and then looked down.

“Look up at me, boy.”

Bidet obeyed, blinking meekly, cheeks flushed with humiliation.

“You suck dick too, boy ?”

Bidet began shaking his head, then turned it into a positive nod.

Brutus shrugged at the American's inquisitive glance.

“Not yet.” Brutus responded, his tone making it clear that he didn't give a damn either way.

The American lifted Lavatory's head from his lap by the roots of her luscious brunette bob and pushed her slightly aside. He pointed at his huge glistening erection to Bidet. It was, without any doubt, the largest penis that any of Lavatory, Bidet and even Brutus had ever seen.

“Your turn.”

The young male, heterosexual slave knelt forward and encased a cock in his mouth for the second time. He had briefly sucked One the evening before. He just managed to get all of the circumsized crown inside.

“Man, this is the life.” The American exhaled, leaning back in his chair. He stared down at Lavatory's gorgeous but blank expression.

“Sorry. You want to use her ?” he asked Brutus.

Brutus shook his head. “Done that twice already today. Got to pace yourself at my age.”

Both men laughed.

“Er … you mind if I … er shift position ?”

Brutus shook his head again, opening his palms in a ‘be my guest' gesture.

“Tell you what. Why don't I give you a little privacy. I'm going down to the film set for a few minutes. Do as you like. There are no restrictions here. Let me know if they show any reluctance to obey any order.”

After Brutus had left, the Rhino removed his pants from around his ankles and pushed Lavatory face down onto the carpeted floor.

“Mmm, I fancy buying this lady of yours. But before I do, I want to sample the hole that nature didn't intend be used.” He said, with a wink at Bidet. He knelt between the backs of the female's knees and grabbed Bidet by the boy's muscular shoulders.

“Lick your wife's butthole, boy. Because the Rhino Horn is going up there right now.”

Tentatively, then forcefully, Bidet pulled his own wife's clenched buttocks apart and inclined his head. He gently began to rim her rear passage.

Rhino watched, fascinated, for a brief moment. He reached underneath and squeezed around the tight rim of Bidet's steel tube.

“Hey,” he exclaimed, “you're horny boy ! Look at me, I'm talking to you.” Bidet turned from his duty and looked shamefacedly at him. Rhino was smiling. “Tell me. Is this making you horny ?”

Bidet gulped. “I … Sir … no, sorry, but I haven't been out of this thing since I arrived nine days ago. I guess I'm … frustrated, Sir.”

The American guffawed. “Fuck, that's the best yet. They keep you locked up and never let you even wank, eh ?” He pushed Bidet's face back down.

The slave nodded his face into his wife's buttocks.

“And how does it feel, knowing I'm about to shoot my bolt up your wife's ass ?”

The slave mumbled. “I … mmur… noth great, thsir.”

“I think you're secretly getting off on it.”

Bidet didn't dare argue.

“Well take my dick and place it in your wife's cornhole. Now !”

Bidet knelt up, put his hand out and grasped the man's penis. They shuffled forward until it was at the saliva lubricated but still puckered entrance.

“Pull her butts real wide. That's it. No, wider.”

Gradually, the swollen horn forced its way inside her resisting anus. Lavatory squirmed, squealed and squeaked, but she didn't fight. She gasped as, ever so slowly, the over-sized penis penetrated her back passage.

“Good. Mmmm. Now, push me all the way in. Push down on my back.”

Once he was fully embedded, he began to piston slowly in and out.

“Damn, that's good. Tight as a drum. You should try … oh no, I forget, she's only your wife.” He leered at Bidet. “Now, lie facing your lady and kiss her. Give her some tongue. That's your role.”

Bidet took up position lying on the carpet, head to head with his wife, putting his lips to hers to make an uneven threesome. She whimpered back, snorting gulps of air as Rhino seesawed in and out of her.

Sadly, it didn't take long. Hissing a staccato “yes, yes, yes”, the American guest soon made himself properly at home and, with a loud roar, he pumped enough hot juice into his hostess for two men. Later, he would take a MOP tablet and come in her mouth. That would really give her a shock !

10.29 hrs

Lara smiled at her and glanced at her watch. She casually tickled the green frond under Gemma's nose, making her snitch. Lara had replaced the teasing feather with a bunch of freshly cut, acid-dripping, stinging nettles.

Already the cow had sensuously draped the evil stingers all over Gemma's helpless breasts, stomach and labia, producing violent red inflammation on her soft, pale skin. Then she had pushed a glove full of nettles up into the cleft between Gemma's buttocks and laughed at her clenching and unclenching her cheeks, trying to disperse the burning itch.

And of course, Lara had also teasingly placed a plastic yellow bucket between Gemma's feet, just in case of any ‘little accidents'.

“Coming up to an hour. Only five to go.”

The cow stared deep into her eyes inquisitively. “Please don't give up. Think of Michelle.”

Gemma just stared back. In truth, she couldn't think of anything but the dreadful stinging that she desperately wanted to ease by scratching.

Except, of course, she could also think of her bottom.

She had felt the inexorable journey of the curried breakfast through her digestive system, and finally down her colon. Eventually it had lodged in her bottom, literally just the other side of her anal sphincter. Gradually, she felt it loosening, virtually becoming liquid, inside her.

Gemma had only had an enema once before, just before the terrible Bukkake film when they had wanted to clean her out completely. This felt the same but worse. The enema had been water based and they had only wanted her to hold it a couple of minutes. But holding back something much heavier, for much longer, was much harder. Harder still was the fact that, with her legs chained wide apart to bolts in the floor, she couldn't clench her buttocks properly. All she could do was tighten her muscles as best she could as the diarrhoea swirled just inside her, like a marauding army searching for a weak spot in a castle's defences.

She knew it was one in a million she could hold out for five more hours of this. But something inside her made her want to resist this fucking cow as long as possible. It wasn't about Michelle. Well, it was, but mainly it was about the two of them. Gemma versus the cow. That was her only bit of resistance. Silently naming her the cow. She winced as a knife spasm speared her guts but managed to compose herself before disaster.

Lara chuckled.

“Well, it's going to be a long old day.” She said, switching on the wall mounted screen. A picture of an animated studio audience appeared on it.

“So let's watch ER together and imagine Michelle starring in it.”

Gemma blinked, confused, unable to think properly. Michelle in a hospital drama. Hadn't there been something like that a few years back ?

Lara giggled, flopping down to sprawl on the sofa.

“No, silly !” she said, turning to look up at her over the back of the sofa. “Not that old ER. The new one. Made by Aunt Stella. ER ! Enemies Reunited !”

End of Part Three

Author's Note

At a few people's request, an extra Part (ie. not one of the original seven) is planned for release later in October: ‘After the Pestilence; the ballad of Lara and Gemma'. It will look into the background and relationship of the two characters in more detail than the main story allows.

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.