Chamber of Horrors

Synopsis

When a childish prank goes wrong two sisters find themselves spending time in ‘The Chamber of Horrors’.

Chamber of Horrors

by obohobo

 

Warnings

Please take note!

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

MF MM NC. Mc Spanking tort. rape

If you are underage or offended by such material or, if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

Copyright 2006

 

Prologue

It is now six months since our ordeal in ‘The Chamber of Horrors and I am still undergoing therapy. My younger sister Allison, ‘Ally’ has fared a little better partly I think because her boyfriend went through the experience with her and our parents allow them to live together and comfort each other. Even so they both still suffer nightmares over it although they say they are becoming less frequent. I am still awakened in terror several times a week. Jacob, my therapist suggested that writing the story of my suffering in the name of justice and exposing the feelings I had at the time, might help me come to terms with it.  (Actually I’ve hinted that it would help me more if he slept alongside me in bed and could comfort me when the nightmares came on, but he considers that ‘unprofessional conduct’. Perhaps when he reads this he’ll reconsider his position. I hope so because he’s quite dishy and is not too much older than me.)

By the way, I’m Juliette, Ettie to my friends. I’m twenty years old, one year older than Ally, and most men consider me to be physically attractive but my depression makes it difficult for me to keep a boyfriend.

Before I had to drop out of college over what happened, I was majoring in English Language and to make this readable to everyone, I will try to write in the manner of an extended essay or one of the sex orientated novels that have recently proliferated on the bookstands. Many local people, and indeed people worldwide, will have seen the highlights of our punishment on the Net or on the disc that was produced, so this essay will describe things more from my own personal point of view – which is what Jacob wishes me to do.

 

Chapter 1. Virtual Punishment Rooms

“Daddy isn’t going to help us then Ettie?” I looked across at Ally sitting and crying on the bunk opposite and shook my head, no. Through tear filled eyes I saw the wardress take the phone away and shut the cell door.

“No,” I said hoarsely my voice full of emotion, “Daddy said we deserved whatever punishment they decide on. He said that mummy and he were disgusted with what we did and wouldn’t lift one finger to help us get away with it. In any case he said there would be too much adverse publicity and a public outcry if he used his position to get us off.”

“Its all your fault,” Ally said vehemently, “It was your stupid idea in the first place. Just because you were bored and our boyfriends were abroad.”

“And we would have got away with it if you hadn’t hit the old woman when she grabbed your coat and tried to stop you taking her jewellery box. Why did you hit her so hard Ally?”

“ I didn’t intend to. You know that from the trial and the truth machine. It was that damn lead band we put over our identity implants to hide where we were. And that alarm the old bitch wore in case she had another heart attack.”

For the next half hour, the bitter arguments and recriminations raged back and forth between us, each trying to blame the other until we ran out of invective and glared silently at each other. For a while we both lay thinking on what happened and the trial earlier that day. It wasn’t like we’d read about in history books or novels, where a barrister would defend us and plead our case before a jury and by clever juggling with words, hope to get away with our crime. In the last year all that changed and suspected criminals were put on the truth machine and forced to confess exactly what they did, why they did it and how they went about it. No longer was it a ‘trial’, although they still used the term, it was more like a session in a confessional. No jury was required; only three magistrates or, in our case, one judge and two magistrates. We didn’t have to plead guilty or not guilty; our confessions made that obvious. Now we were being held ‘on remand’ to await ‘reports’ before being returned to the courtroom for sentencing in the morning.

“Do you think they will put us in the new ‘Chamber of Horrors’ for a day?” Allison asked suddenly.

“I’ve been wondering that too Ally. Our local one’s only been open a week, so I guess they might want to try it out,” I replied, my voice trembling. Allison burst into tears again and I did too and for a while our animosity was forgotten and we tried to comfort each other.

These ‘Chambers of Horrors were a fairly new innovation; some other places had theirs for six months but our provincial town had to wait its turn to get funding for the building. Officially it was called The Virtual Punishment Room but colloquially they were given the name The Chamber of Horrors. For good reason, as we were soon to find out. The miscreants (us) are fitted with a special headsets that make them believe that they are really part of the scene projected on to the surrounding walls, ceiling and floor. Not only do they see and hear what goes on around them, they feel it as well. They feel the pain of the whip or cane, they see and feel the welts it produces, they feel the rapes and tortures until such time as the projections are faded out. Only then do they find that their bodies are unmarked and they are free of pain. Physically unmarked but often, like us, they end up traumatised and needing prolonged counselling. The government are keen on them because statistics show a low re-offending rate and it does away with expensive trials and prisons. Combined with the identification implants everyone now has and the satellite tracking system, criminals were now at a great disadvantage.

The general public too are generally pleased with the results of the government measures. Crimes are down and people can now go on to the streets at any time, day or night, without fear of being molested and can leave their houses unlocked, knowing nothing will be disturbed. So what if a criminal spent a day or so mentally being barbarically thrashed, raped and humiliated? They deserved it.

“It is a high possibility we’ll spend a day in there,” I thought grimly, “They’ll certainly want to try it out and that sour faced bitch judge, that Mrs. Mildred Campkin woman, seems ready to throw the book at us. Maybe she doesn’t like rich kids that get into trouble because they don’t have to earn a living. Or maybe she wants to lord her power over daddy’s influence.”

Ally and I had read the lurid stories in the papers and magazines of the experiences some men and women had in a punishment room. At the time we giggled over the titillating details, especially the very graphic sexual ones that always figured prominently. Photographs were always included and we studied them in minute detail. We gloated over the obscene things the men and women were forced to do and with a ‘no censorship’ policy on the reports, we often followed the reading with lengthy masturbation sessions, together and in private. I guess we quite often ignored the pain the victim went through.

“What scenario do you think they will choose for us Ettie?” Allison asked.

“Most of the ones we’ve read about involve slavery in one form or another. Like that girl who was transported to an old time cotton plantation and was whipped and raped because she couldn’t work hard enough. Or the one who was put into the harem of a cruel sheik and was strung up and flogged when she refused to allow him to fuck her bottom and then was fucked in every hole by the sheik’s sons and guests.” I lay and visualised the pictures downloaded directly from the scene that accompanied the article. I’d read the piece many times and wondered what it would be like to be forcibly gang-banged. The picture showed a naked girl hanging from a beam and a naked dark skinned man with a full erection standing alongside her holding a long black cane. Very painful welts decorated the poor girl’s body front and back. That article remained in my mind particularly because it seemed that the victim had some sort of choice; there was a certain amount of interaction between the scene’s participants and the victims. The girl could have allowed the sheik to sodomise her and if she had, maybe then she wouldn’t have been whipped.

“They weren’t all about slaves,” Ally commented, “There was also the one where the man was forced to work for the Japs in the war and they used him homosexually and caned his arse and whipped his prick and balls. And remember the story about the girl who was interrogated by the Iraqis for being a spy. They certainly didn’t spare her.”

The reports had been very graphic as to the abuse they’d received and it seemed the government was doing its utmost to promote an awareness of this form of punishment, even if only virtual, that wrongdoers would receive in the belief that it would deter them. To a large extent it has done. They’d been elected on a cut-crime ticket and they had done just that. The tiny electronic tag fitted below the skin of a person’s wrist, emitted a signal that was picked up by a satellite and enabled the powers that be to track everyone’s movements. This in itself cut crime. Almost at the same time they installed the truth machines in all police stations and courtrooms so no one could lie themselves out of trouble and did away with the need for expensive trials. Only the very clever, or the stupid, believed they could beat the system. Allison and I realised too late that we were in the latter category.

Suddenly it all seemed too much for both of us and Ally, sobbing uncontrollably, came and snuggled close to me. I too was crying pitifully but I held her tight and pulled the blanket over us and tried unsuccessfully to sleep until morning.

With a great sense of foreboding we were led to breakfast the next morning, not knowing how long we would have to wait until the bailiff called us into the courtroom to learn of our fate. Neither of us felt like eating but the wardress said quite kindly, “Eat as much as you can. There’s no telling how long it will be before your next proper meal.”

 

Chapter 2. Tried

Mid morning we were transferred to an anteroom at the courthouse. “The judge hasn’t arrived yet and there’s several other cases so it may be some time before calls you in,” The bailiff informed us. “Sit quietly otherwise I will have to cuff and gag you. We don’t take any nonsense from convicted criminals these days. It’s not like it was a couple of years ago.” His use of the term ‘convicted criminals’ brought home to me that society no longer regarded us as fun loving college girls; we were now felons with a police record.

The long wait gave us more time to inwardly speculate on our fate and to remember the events of the previous day. It started when we were brought from the local jail and made to sit in the same chairs as we were in now. It was a different bailiff but he gave a similar warning. At the time we fully expected father, Sir Lovell Porter-Bowes, to use his influence and friendship with the chief constable to get us released so we weren’t unduly worried. A little apprehensive maybe, but not overly worried. We’d probably get a ticking off and made to clear litter from the roads or do some other humiliating public service for a week, or so we expected. An hour later the bailiff called us into the courtroom and introduced us to the panel of judges. “Misses Juliette Elizabeth Porter-Bowes ID 85-924-SVA-92, 20 years old and Allison Cynthia Porter-Bowes ID 86-525-LJN-71, 19 years old ma’am.”

I remember thinking how miserable all three of the judges looked and began adding a few more hours litter picking. No doubt we would get a strongly worded caution as well before being sent home. Daddy would see to that. How wrong I was. The bailiff strapped us in special chairs and fastened the truth inducer over our heads. He did Ally first so I had a good look at the inducer. It looked like a net skullcap with sensors at the intersection of each mesh. A strap under the chin pulled the sensors in close contact with the scalp. It was slightly uncomfortable but not painful and it completely took away our ability to lie.

Mrs. Campkin, the senior judge sat in the centre and questioned me first. I outlined how I’d heard at college that if the identification transducer was covered with a lead shield it prevented its signal going out to the satellite. “We had some repairs done to the older part of our roof,” I explained, “And some of the old lead flashing was left behind when it was replaced with a different metal. Allison overheard our cleaner tell mother that Mrs. Jacobs had some very nice jewellery that she never wore and which she kept in a box in her bedroom. I put the two things together and we thought we could beat the system and provide ourselves with a little excitement. The summer holiday was becoming a bit boring ma’am.” I went on to give an account of how we were able to get into the house and the bedroom unseen. Unfortunately a series of events upset our plans.

“Take up the story from there Allison if you please,” snapped Mrs. Campkin, “I understand you were instrumental in causing the woman’s injuries.”

“I didn’t intend to ma’am. I only meant to knock her away but she fell hard and hurt herself,” Ally said.

“But you did hurt her, and badly too. She’ll be in hospital with a broken hip and an exacerbated heart problem for some weeks,” retorted the judge and both magistrates nodded. It was the first the girls had heard of the woman’s injuries. “Go on with your account Allison if you please.”

“We peeped through the lounge window and saw Mrs. Jacobs watching TV but she appeared to be asleep. The back door was open so we crept in and went to the bedroom, found the box and were about to open it when she appeared in the doorway and grabbed me by my coat. I went to swipe her away and the metal band around my wrist hit her neck and she fell hard on to the floor. We went to make our escape but Ettie, Juliette, stopped and phoned 999 and told them an injured woman was on the floor of the house. We hadn’t gone a hundred metres when the police came skimming over the hedges and arrested us. We didn’t know the old lady had pressed her alarm before entering the room. We’re very sorry ma’am.”

“No doubt you are but that doesn’t alter the fact that an elderly woman is in considerable pain in hospital because of your action. We will need to take that into consideration when deciding on your punishment,” commented the judge.

Ms. Katherine Babcock, one of the magistrates, then questioned us at some length as to why we wanted the jewellery when we were rich enough to afford more or less anything we wanted. In the end she took the same stance as her colleague. “An old lady is hospitalised because you two wanted a bit of excitement. Yes, we will certainly take that into account although we will consider the fact that you had the decency to call the emergency services.”

Our reverie was interrupted by a man being brought from the cells into the ante-room and made to stand while the bailiff spoke on the intercom to the judge. A quarter of an hour later he was taken through to the courtroom. As he and the man following are key figures in this story I accessed the transcripts of their trials and am penning an edited version here.

Bailiff: “David Dennis Donavan ID 84-701-ZXD-25, 21 years old ma’am.” Other sounds on the disc indicate that he sat the man in the chair and strapped him in.

Judge Mrs. Mildred Campkin: “Thank you bailiff,” There was a pause and a shuffling of paper. “Mr. Donavan you stand arrayed here on a charge of stealing a gold bracelet from the premises of Asplanees at 9:07 this morning. Will you please tell us how the bracelet came into your possession and if there is any explanation other than your having stolen it?” Her voice sounded a little bored and from our experience with her I guess she looked with some distain at the man in the special chair a few yards away from her.

David Dennis Donavan: (I found our later was always known as ‘Dees’, hesitated to answer but the strange headset gave him no choice. “Ma’am, I needed a new battery for my watch so I went into Asplanees as soon as they opened. The lady assistant said it was of an old type no longer made but they might have one in the basement. I agreed to wait and while she was gone I had a look around and noticed the surveillance camera didn’t appear to cover the whole room and the bracelet seemed to be in a corner where its disappearance might not be noticed for a while. I’ve been going straight for almost two years now ma’am but the temptation was too great, more so as now almost everything is on open display and not behind glass or anything. I slipped it in my pocket moments before the lady came back with the battery. I paid her for it and left. I’d hardly got to the end of the road before I was arrested.”

Judge: “Of course you were. The bracelet was electronically tagged and so are you. The bracelet tag alerted the girl who immediately buzzed the details to the police together with your identification from the receipt for the battery. The satellite told them exactly where you were and your every move.” The judge cackled mockingly. “Now tell us what happened when the police arrested you.”

Donavan: “I’m sorry ma’am. I lost my temper. I’m very sorry that happened ma’am.” Dees had obviously decided to be as nice as he could to the judges in the hope they would deal leniently with him. He also tried to wait before answering but the headset compelled compliance with the judge’s order. “I head butted the lady constable ma’am and it seems I broke her nose…and I kicked out and my foot seems to have connected with another officer’s balls. The lady constable then stunned me with her gun and I didn’t wake up until I was in the station. I really am sorry ma’am for hurting those two.”

Judge: The apologies seemed to cut no ice with the judge. “I see from your records that you have been in trouble for stealing many times previously although, as you told us, you haven’t been caught for twenty-two months. Your temper seems to have got the better of you on many other occasions too. In view of this I think my colleagues and I will have to consider giving you a reminder that will deter you for a much longer period. Take him to the holding cells until we’ve considered his sentence bailiff if you please.”

When he came back through the anteroom, Dees looked unconcerned. I found out later that he’d been in prison before and life wasn’t there all that bad. At least it wasn’t until the latest government measures came into effect six months previously. Now life inside was much harsher although the prison population had decreased dramatically.

*****

Judge: “Bring in the next one please bailiff.” The judge and the two magistrates, Mr. James O’Reilly and Ms. Katherine Babcock returned to the courtroom after a short recess. We watched as two constables brought the struggling, cursing, and handcuffed man through the room where we sat. Through the still opened door we watched as they strapped him into the seat. He continued to hurl abuse at the judges while the bailiff fastened him in. It was only when the headset was in position did his protestations cease and the bailiff had a chance to close the door. From the records I gleaned:

Bailiff: “Samuel Ronald Smythe ID 89-327-SVL-39, 19 years old ma’am.”

Judge: “Sit up straight man.” The order was given sharply, “You’re not watching television now, you are here to face serious charges. Drunkenness and a serious assault.” A pause. “For the audio record, Smythe is reluctantly pushing himself up. He’s shaking his head as if to clear his mind and perhaps to throw away some of the throbbing inside his skull.’ Another pause. “Now Mr. Smythe, please tell us what happened last night as far as you can remember the events.”

Smythe: “It was the barman’s fault ma’am, he refused to give me another drink…”

Judge: “We’re are the one that apportion blame Mr. Smythe. Confine your answers to what actually happened.”

Smythe: “Yes, ma’am. I went to the bar to get another beer but the barman said I’d already had enough and turned me away. As I headed for the door I saw this full glass with a twist of lemon on the table beside a lady. Without thinking, I picked it up and downed it. I think it was gin and it burned all the way to my guts. I felt myself go light headed and I went towards the door just as some people were coming in. I don’t really remember too much except I punched a man. Next thing I woke up in a cell.”

Judge: “And you cannot remember anything else about the incident in the doorway?”

Smythe:  “No ma’am.

Judge: “Bailiff, do we have witnesses to this incident?”

Bailiff: “Yes ma’am. There were plenty of witnesses but we’ve only brought Raymond Clarke the barman to the courtroom to testify. The others gave very similar accounts.”

Raymond Clarke was placed in the chair and fitted with the truth headset and after the preliminary details was asked for his account.

Clarke: “I had already told Sam Smythe that it was his last beer when he’d ordered previously. I felt he was on the borderline then and was a little hesitant to serve him. I decided it was all right but when he came for another refill, I refused. We are legally obliged to do this ma’am otherwise we can be in trouble. Sam swore and turned and I thought he was going to leave as he headed for the door however, on the way he picked up a double gin that I just taken to Rita Fensome and he swallowed it in one gulp. He then dropped the glass, breaking it on to the table, and staggered to the door. He was shouting and swearing and not very steady on his feet so I came from behind the bar intending to assist him outside. He almost reached the door when a young couple entered. The girl wore a fairly revealing top, nothing really outrageous but showing a fair amount of her breasts. Sam Smythe immediately put his hands inside her top and started to squeeze them. By the way she screamed, it was painful as well as embarrassing for her. Naturally her boyfriend stepped in and tried to prevent any further pain to her but it only angered Sam and he turned on him and knocked him senseless with a flurry of hard punches. By then, I and also several others were on the scene and wrestled him to the floor. My barmaid called the police and he was taken away. We called the ambulance and the paramedics treated the man and then took him to the hospital.”

Judge: “Thank you Mr. Clarke.” Mr. Clarke then came back into the anteroom.

Judge: “Bailiff, is there was any information on the man’s condition?”

Bailiff: “An hour ago he had just been released from hospital with a bruised and swollen face, one tooth missing and a cracked rib and other bruising to his body. Without medication he would be in severe pain.”

Judge: “I see. Take him to the holding cells and after lunch we’ll meet in my chambers to discuss what punishments fit the crimes of the two men and those of the girls from yesterday.”

I accessed another disc giving the account of the meeting in her chambers.

Judge:  “You believe that all four can be put in the programme at the same time Dr. Farqueson?” Dr. Farqueson is the programme technician.

Farqueson: “It’s been done on trials ma’am, more on the virtual video sex circuits than for the judiciary, and provision has been made in the later programmes for multiple participants but as far as I know, no other city has tried it with more than two people in a virtual punishment hall. It would be a first if it works out and I see no reason why it shouldn’t.”

Judge: “It would be cheaper for us if they all were punished together and it would save a lot of time if they did. It would also bring us a little kudos.”

Magistrate James O’Reilly: “Or they could spend longer getting their just deserts.”

Magistrate Katherine Babcock: “And it would bring home to others in the town that we mean business and send out a clear warning to other criminals.”

Judge: “I really think it is time that those two petty crooks learned the error of their ways and as for the two bored rich girls, they need to be thoroughly punished for what they did to that elderly lady. They need to feel some of the pain she is going through. Is it feasible to run the programme over several days Dr. Farqueson?”

Farqueson: “The later programmes can run for a week but two days is more usual ma’am.”

O’Reilly: “Will there be any trouble with Sir Porter-Bowes contacting the chief constable or the High Sheriff?”

Judge: “Shouldn’t be. He said to give them what they deserved. He seemed as disgusted with his daughters as we are. His wife was also very upset over their behaviour and said they deserved a good strapping. I think the programme will give them more than that but family and friends won’t find out just how much more until it is all over.”

[For an hour they debated how long the punishment should last and which scenario to choose but it will spoil the story if I reveal their decision at this point.] Meanwhile us two girls in the room and the two men in the cells were anxiously awaiting the outcome.

 

Chapter 3. Sentenced

“How much longer are they going to keep us waiting?” I asked Ally. I knew that I wouldn’t get an answer but the waiting was getting us both irritated and nervous. “It’s 3:22 and we’ve been here for hours. Good job they made us eat breakfast.”

“Not much longer miss,” the wardress overheard the remark. “I’ve to collect the clothes you’ll wear and the bailiff will take you back into the courtroom at 3:45. They must have decided to give you a day in the Chamber but no one has said anything. I guess the judges will keep that to themselves until the last moment.”

From the stories we knew that often appropriate, if very meagre, clothing was given to those sentenced to a period in the Chamber of Horrors and rightly guessed that would be our fate. Tears fell down our cheeks again and we hugged each other until the wardress came back.

“Take off all your present clothes and jewellery, everything, and put these on.” The girls looked around at the police standing at each entrance. “Sorry about the lack of privacy,” the wardress apologised, “But I guess that will be the least of your worries. I expect that you’ve read the stories…”

The clothing consisted of a loose white cotton-like tunic that was a paper-cloth thing and seemed likely to tear at any moment, and matching short skirt and a pair of pressed cardboard sandals with thong laces. There was no underwear but we half expected that. From previous reports it seemed that if underwear was issued it was only so that it could be brutally ripped off soon after the scene started. Our tunic and short skirts were virtually see-through and I could easily make out the outlines of Ally’s areolas and the dark patch of her pubic hair. We stared at each other almost in disbelief. It was one thing to be dressed so revealingly in the Chamber but we were in a public place in full view of the police and staff. We weren’t given any time to worry though. “Sorry, I have to put cuffs on you now,” the wardress told us as she fastened our wrists behind our backs.

“Are they ready?” the bailiff asked. The wardress said we were. “This way ladies if you please.” He eyed us all over and then led us back into the courtroom and I felt my nipples harden from his stare. “Sit here ladies please.” I have to say all the staff in that place were very polite. Tears flowed down our cheeks as we sat facing the empty judge’s bench and waited to learn of our fate. I would have liked to have crossed my arms across my breasts to cover myself a little but the cuffs prevented it and indeed, tended to thrust my tits out. I could see Ally’s nipples protruded the front of her tunic so the pair of male reporters from the local papers sitting a few seats away had a good view. We knew that our misfortune would be reported and the whole town would learn of our humiliation. The door to the courtroom opened again and we turned to see Dees and Sam, in similar attire to ours, being brought in and sat down next to us. Their togas were of thin material too so I could easily see the outline of their pricks as they passed in front of us.

“Looks like we’re going to be Roman slaves Ettie,” Allison whispered, “I wonder if those two are going…”

“Quiet please!” ordered the bailiff and shortly afterwards, “Prisoners will stand.” We awkwardly got to our feet while the judges filed in and sat.

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach and thought, “I don’t like the look of this, for the first time ever, they are smiling.”

Judge Mrs. Mildred Campkin stood, paused and glared at each of us in turn before delivering her little speech outlining our crimes. “David Dennis Donavan and Samuel Ronald Smythe you are both guilty of causing grievous harm to innocent people and of other crimes. These are by no means your first offences and it seems that you have learned nothing from the soft sentences previously handed out to you. We have therefore decided that you need a punishment you will remember for a very long time, in fact one that you will never forget.” Another long pause while the men fidgeted no doubt wondering just how harsh their punishment would be. Like us, they guessed they would have to spend time in the Chamber of Horrors. Dees said later that he thought they were going to be slaves to the Romans and his mind guessed they would be made to participate in some unpleasant games in the Coliseum.

“Juliette Elizabeth and Allison Cynthia Porter-Bowes,” the judge continued, “Your cases are rather different. You are not hardened criminals but your actions led to grave injuries to a defenceless elderly lady. For no better reason it seems than you were bored, you schemed to beat our detection system in order to steal a few jewels, jewels you had no need of and could easily afford to buy. You did this for so-called excitement. I hope you will enjoy the excitement of the next few days.” We were openly crying now and I started to plead for mercy but a sharp word from the judge stopped me. She went on, “I have spoken to your parents and they have agreed not to contest any punishment we impose. You are both old enough to be punished as adults, and they are as horrified at what you did as we are. Indeed since the news broadcast this morning, it seems the whole community is disgusted that girls of your standing in society should stoop so low and demean themselves by such an appalling act. We feel that you too, deserve a severe punishment and one that you will remember for the rest of your lives.” Another long pause; another slight smile. “We hereby sentence all four of you to seven days together in The Virtual Punishment Room. This is the maximum we are able to give you and should send a clear message to any others in the community thinking to follow your examples.” Allison didn’t hear the last sentence; she fainted and fell back into the chair but with cuffed hands I couldn’t help her. “Take them to the holding cells until transport is arranged to the new punishment centre. I sincerely hope that all of you will learn from this experience. In any case you will be able to re-live it when you receive a disc of the edited highlights of your week. Others will also be able to witness the extent of your punishment and humiliation when the disc becomes available for sale on-line a day or two after your return.” Officers from the court assisted us crying and screaming from the room. The men, almost disbelieving the severity of the sentence, hurled abuse at their captors but as soon as all four were in a cell, a nurse came and gave us a calming injection that lasted until we were safely inside the punishment room.

For a short while we sat on the benches and looked at each other, then Dees said, “Seems like that bitch judge is putting us all together in whatever programme they’ve dreamed up for us. Perhaps we ought to introduce ourselves less formally than in the court.” We did so. The drug made us feel a little blasé and euphoric over what was to happen; the men stared at our barely concealed tits, which made our nipples harden again, but we kept our legs closed so they couldn’t see our cunts. Inevitably the men’s togas tented at the front and Dees’ prick poked out so we could see the end of it but somehow it didn’t embarrass us like it should have. In fact both Ally and I stared at it wondering if it would be inside us before too long. Dees went on, “My guess is that we shall soon be seeing each other naked and whipped and possibly made to play cruel games in the arena so you don’t really need to worry overmuch about seeing us with a hard-on. Even if we weren’t cuffed the screws won’t let us fuck you for real, that’s for sure.”

“And my sore head wouldn’t let me anyway,” muttered Sam, “And my guts feel like they want to spew.”

Dees statement didn’t do much to reassure me but we had little time to worry. The transport was ready to take us on the short journey to the punishment centre. We looked at each other and tried to guess what the others were really like. Dees was by no means an unpleasant looking man. He was well built and I wasn’t surprised that he’d hurt the two police officers when the came to arrest him. Ally said she fancied him right from the start. On the other hand Sam was gross. Huge beer gut that overflowed the top of his toga, very much over weight and obviously did little in the way of exercise. I had absolutely no desire to have him in bed with me.

“Sit them on the floor please gentlemen,” a woman in white overalls instructed the two warders when we entered the room. “No, you are not allowed to fondle them! Just sit them down and when I’ve fitted the headsets, you can remove the cuffs,” she reprimanded a warder who tried to feel Ally’s tits.

I looked around the room that was to be our home for the next seven days; it didn’t appear to be very sinister and was far removed from the pokey dungeon I’d imagined. It was large, larger than four tennis courts I estimated, but it was difficult to tell because the walls merged into the floor and ceiling in a rounded curve and all the inside surfaces were painted a matt light greyish-white. There were no windows and the doors fitted flush with the walls so as to present an unbroken surface. Even the ventilation grills somehow blended in. All this, we found out later, was to form a continuous surface on which the projection equipment could paint whatever scene was required. The room was completely devoid of any furniture; it was just one large open space.

The woman in white fitted Sam’s headset first. “They’re very unobtrusive,” she informed them, “Just two minute hearing aid type plugs for the ears and two pads for the temples. I have to glue them on with a special adhesive that dissolves the top layer of skin and needs the correct solvent to remove. It is these pads that pass the sensations the programme provides to the brain. Through them you feel the whipping, the rapes, the tortures or what ever else the programme sends out. I will also be gluing a small pad to the back of your wrist. This is to monitor your health. The signal is automatically checked and if anything seems life threatening, it shuts down the system or your part of it. It doesn’t close it down because your are in severe pain or are in abject terror, only if you physically likely to have a heart attack or something similar.” It took about half an hour to fit the headsets and for the cuffs to be undone. By then the injections were just starting to wear off and I could feel the fear returning. The woman left us alone for a short while. We looked at each other and Dees and I both tried to scratch the sensors from our temples but the glue had absorbed the pads slightly into he skin and there was nowhere for a finger nail to catch.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the woman’s voice fed into their earpieces, “I ought to have introduced myself earlier. I am Dr. Freda Farqueson your chief programme technician and I will be overseeing what happens during most of your stay and recording the events. I, or an assistant, will monitor you all the time but we are not allowed to interfere except in an emergency. The programme we are going to use is totally new to me and in fact has not been used in this country before. There are very few seven-day programmes available and as it takes a long while to write them, I gather from the notes that this one has been cobbled together from a series that was intended for the porno market. I would anticipate therefore, there will be more sexual content than in the day long punishment programmes. To some extent the programme is inter-active; the decisions that you make when you are given a choice can affect the stages that follow, not only for you, but also for everyone in the group. Actually as there are four of you, two more than we’ve had in the programme at any one time, we don’t really know how it will work. It is a complete first for us. You are the first to try out this room, the first to use a seven-day programme and the first for a larger group. Please remember that I didn’t order any of this. The judge and the magistrates did and they also unanimously ordered me to set the controls for maximum discomfort. You really must have done something to annoy them so much. Before I start the machines going, let me remind you that however bad your injuries seem, however bad the pain, however brutal the raping, at the end of the period, your physical bodies will be in the same state as they are now. The pain will disappear, the welts will go, any open cuts and wounds will heal and the girls will not be pregnant. I am starting the projector now, please close your eyes for a few moments.”

 

Chapter 4. Day 1

“Up, up up!” A searing pain flashed across my back and I screamed and opened my eyes. Staggering to my feet, for a few moments I could not believe what I saw around me. Ally screamed, then Dees cried out followed shortly after by an outburst of swearing from Sam. We stood alongside a dirt road; the four of us linked by a rope tied around our waists. Beside us were two whip carrying men, obviously Roman soldiers who I guessed were officers. Behind us, standing in formation, was a group of eight soldiers. Sam’s swearing earned him another couple of lashes across his back. I winced as I watched the soldier swish the whip down quite hard. Sam didn’t learn to keep his mouth shut.

“Lay off you stupid fuckers!” he yelled only to receive two harder strokes across his arse. He yelled again but had the sense not to abuse our captors further.

“Move.” The soldier nearest me indicated the direction with his whip. It looked a wicked thing. About three feet long and as thick as my thumb at the handle end, tapering to pencil thickness, I was certain it could inflict terrible pain if used with maximum force. At the moment it seemed the whips were just being used to chivvy us along. I stumbled forward but was pulled back as the rope between Ally and me became tight. It took a few minutes and several more stinging touches with the whip before we all began moving in a sort of coordinated way. The eight soldiers marched two abreast behind us.

Once we got moving, I began to take notice of our surroundings. I knew this was all an illusion, already a painful illusion but I expected it to get much worse. “If I try and second-guess what they intend to do with us perhaps I can forestall some of the hardships,” I thought. My mind started to amuse itself by working out where we were and what was likely to happen to us. “We’re in a Mediterranean country with a hot climate but not too far from the sea.” I could almost smell the water in the air. “Possibly we’ll come to some fortress at a port and forced to work there or become harem slaves or put into brothels. I know the Romans had such places.” Not looking where I was going, I stumbled and almost fell. A sharp touch of the whip on my arse made me pay more attention to the roughness on the track.

In the hot sun, tiredness overcame us very quickly. The sweat poured off me and soaked my tunic so my breasts were now clearly visible through the thin fabric. Our leader, or captain as I later learned, ogled them and I wondered if he would soon have his hands around them but all the soldiers seemed well disciplined and so far hadn’t tried anything remotely sexual. As our pace became slower the whip cracked more frequently. Every few minutes one or other of our group would let out a yell and I thought my back and arse must be covered in livid welts. I couldn’t see them but Ally told me later they were only red lines and I could see hers were too. Sam was worst off. He was carrying a lot of extra weight in his beer gut and was certainly unused to walking or taking any sort of physical exercise. He puffed and stumbled along and continually complained that he couldn’t go any further. Ally and I played tennis and other sports at college so we were relatively fit. Dees played football so he could keep up the pace, or could have done had he not had to pull Sam along. Finally Sam collapsed on the road and even after more applications of the whip, couldn’t get his breath enough to stand. The captain directed us to a tree. “Five minutes rest only, we have to get to Narmos before nightfall,” he told us. A goatskin of water was passed around and I gratefully took a much needed swig even though the lips of the others in our group had already been around the mouth. For a fleeting moment my mind remembered that I would not normally drink out of the same glass another had used, but my thirst overcame any such objections. At that stage I could still remember that I was in the Chamber of Horrors being punished. I had a schizophrenic personality; part slave, part college student. As the hours went by, so I lost my college girl status and my slave status became completely dominant.

During our rest period I heard several of our soldier escort move back from the path to piss. “I need to pee too,” I whispered to Ally.

“So do I,” she replied.

The captain must have overheard the remark. “You all piss before we go on,” he told us and indeed after an all too short break he led us back from the path and made us do it in front of him. Ally and I and the boys had to lift our togas so he could see everything. At first I barely lifted it high enough for him to see but he flicked his whip painfully between my legs until I pulled the skirt up as far as it would go. The soldiers stood and watched and I noticed some seemed more interested in the boy’s pricks than us girls. It was all very embarrassing. When we’d finished the captain lifted his toga and showed us his semi-hard prick and pissed on the ground between Ally’s legs. His prick was bigger than any I’d seen before, far bigger than our two lads, and I rightfully speculated the porno-people deliberately made them that way. “Will they all be like that?” I wondered. “How many of them will fuck us? Will they try and force it into our bums?”

We stumbled on for perhaps another quarter of an hour before Sam collapsed again. He was in a bad way and the captain was becoming angry and detailed Dees and me to half carry him along but poor Sam could hardly stand and we had to virtually drag him. He was well over weight and our progress was extremely slow and painful as the captain used his whip to try and speed us up. Dees and I were ready to collapse too when we heard the sound of horse hooves behind us and the captain ordered us to move off the roadway. Through eyes half blinded with sweat I saw a chariot approaching followed by perhaps twenty men on horseback. “Stand up straight!” the captain ordered. We did our best with Sam but he just slumped to the ground and didn’t move. The soldiers stood to attention and held their right arms across their chest with their fingers outstretched to their left shoulder in a form of salute.

“Hail Pavlos,” the centurion in the chariot greeted the captain. “Is this all your have to show for the raid on Tablinko?” The centurion scowled at us. “They seem a pathetic lot.”

“I’m sorry sir, it seems that once again the village was informed of our coming and fled into the mountains. The rest of the company are trying to root them out but in that terrain it is a difficult operation. Someone in Narmos is a traitor sir. This is the third time we found a village empty.”

“Are the wenches virgins?”

“No sire. The only reason we caught them was because they were fornicating with the men in the forest and made too much noise.”

“Take their tunics off captain and let me see if they are worth having in the Governor’s household for the entertainment banquet the day after tomorrow,” the centurion ordered and the captain signalled for two soldiers to perform the task. Ally and I were too sore and tired to worry too much although we blushed profusely. I doubt if anyone really noticed. Giving his chariot reins to a nearby horseman, the centurion came and felt our tits and vaginas. He seemed satisfied with what he saw and felt but didn’t verbally comment.

“What about this useless toad?” He kicked Sam.

“Not much good for anything. He could be put in the barracks for the men to use his arse, that is, if he survives the journey. We won’t get to Narmos before tomorrow nightfall if we have to drag him along sir.”

“Methinks you will be slow enough with the others captain. Have the men tie the useless one over a packhorse. Report to me with the others when you arrive, probably about midday tomorrow. Make sure they realise that they are now slaves. Let your men use them freely but don’t put too many marks on their bodies. We may want that pleasure tomorrow.” From the look of horror on Ally’s face, I knew she understood the implications. We were going to be raped by all the soldiers and then as part of some show tomorrow, we would be whipped. I almost fainted at the thought and watched while Sam was thrown crosswise over a donkey and tied down. That was the last we saw of him. After our ordeal was over I heard that the automatic medical monitoring had kicked in and he’d been taken to hospital and spent the week in intensive care.

Maybe it was because the moaning Sam was no longer with us or maybe it was because they knew they could use our bodies or maybe there was some other reason but when the centurion had gone, the soldiers seemed more compassionate towards us. One cut a large leaf for each of us and tied them over our heads to give us a little protection from the sun and from the way the leaf projected in front, it shaded our faces too. “We need to make up some time now. It is a league to our staging point where we will get refreshment so you will not be roped together unless you cause us problems. If you do, you will be whipped despite what the centurion said. You will keep in single file as before and you will walk faster. Form up,” the captain ordered. From then on the soldiers flanked us on either side and the whip was used less frequently. An hour or so later we arrived at a small place surrounded by a high mud wall. The gate opened for us and we went into the courtyard and thence into the latrines. Once more we had to do it in public and had to watch the soldiers relieve themselves. “No need for you to be shy now,” the captain Pavlos grinned, “Take a good look at the pricks, you will be feeling them inside you before the day is done. Even you Dees.” Dees didn’t seem very happy at the thought and in truth neither did I. All seemed larger than normal. They took us into a building that was refreshingly cool and seemed very dark until our eyes opened up again after being in the bright sunshine for so long. We were all served a little food, the soldiers had more than us, and they had wine whereas we only were given water. Still that was better than nothing.

“Get those clothes off, we’ve time for some fun before we set off again.”  The captain stood in front of us and we were now surrounded not only by our soldiers but those resident in the staging post. There was no point in trying to refuse. We undressed, including Dees, and stood with our legs apart for the soldiers to inspect us. Dees had an erection but it was small compared to the others that were on show. I suppose I was a little disappointed that captain Pavlos chose Ally for his first fuck. Perhaps he liked younger girls. His second in command chose me.

“No, please don’t.” I heard Ally stupidly trying to beg. Quickly her legs were pulled back to her ears and the captain lashed his whip twice across her arse, far harder than we’d received on the walk. She screamed and cried but the soldiers holding her legs held them to give their captain full access to her cunt. He wasted no more time and plunged his prick deeply into her. I didn’t have any further chance to watch as my vagina was invaded by a prick larger than any I had known previously. Fortunately the previous scene had aroused me and I took it without too many problems, in fact I have to admit to enjoying that first fuck.

To one side of me I heard Dees yell out and glanced across to see him held, bent over a stool, and a soldier forcing his prick up poor Dees’ arse. I couldn’t pay much attention because of my own situation but it seemed the soldier was having some difficulty in getting it in. My soldier soon spurted his load and was replaced by another and then a third. At first I thought to passively lie there and let them do what they wanted but they were having none of that. “Fuck back,’ the first soldier ordered and slapped my tits hard several times. Of course I didn’t need telling to do that with the others but even so they took great delight in mauling my tits. I began to feel sore but when the third had finished the captain called a halt and we all dressed again and prepared to move on. Ally said she’d also been fucked three times and Dees had been buggered twice. “I’m not a queer and I’ve never had a man before,” he told us, “And after the pain of that I don’t want to again. Once I tried to persuade a girl to do it but she refused and I can see why but I saw a DVD of one that took it very easily.  I said I hadn’t been bum fucked either. The captain laughed and said they would correct that tonight.

We carried on for some hours but with the three of us slaves becoming more and more tired and foot sore, the pace became slower. The soldiers were still fit but the captain had to call a halt when it was obvious the whips could not make us go any faster. He wasn’t too pleased as he expected to get to the next staging post that night and now we would have to spend it in the open. The sun was nearing the horizon so he selected a grassy place and the men collected wood and made a fire. There wasn’t much to eat but there was a stream where we could get water. Ally and I went to fill the goatskins under the supervision of one of the foot soldiers. When I leaned over the bank to fill the skins, he flipped my skirt up and fingered my cunt and arsehole. Automatically I tried to close my legs but he just laughed and gave my bum a couple of hard slaps. It was already sore from the whipping during the march so I cried out and he turned his attention to Ally. I saw the welts she’d received for resisting the captain earlier were livid and sore but she allowed his hands to roam freely over her sex.

By the time we returned to the others, it was dark but the fire gave us a little light. We ate a little of the hard bread they gave us and waited with some trepidation for the others to finish and the inevitable rapes that would follow. We didn’t have to wait long before the captain ordered us to strip and lie face down on the grass. “If you had moved yourselves a bit quicker we would have a roof over our heads tonight and better food and wine. You will now pay the price for your tardiness.” On his instructions, a soldier knelt each side of our bottoms and another sat on our shoulders and pinned us so we could not move. When he gave the signal the soldiers began pasting the bum cheek nearest them. We cried and screamed but the spanking went on until I thought I couldn’t take any more. “Halt!” It was great relief that I heard the captain but it was short lived when I heard the next instruction. “Get their arses up ready for bum fucking.” I tried begging but it was no use and I was soon kneeling on all fours, my thighs spread and both my cunt and arsehole fully exposed. Arms around my waist held me in position and I tried to prepare myself for the expected invasion but really nothing could have prepared me for the pain when the soldier forced his prick into my tight hole. I knew how Dees felt earlier. From the cries around me I knew Ally and Dees were being penetrated too and the others were encouraging our rapists to do it harder. It seemed to take ages before he shot his load into my bowels. Worse was to come. My rapist proffered his prick to my mouth. I’d sucked a few pricks before but always they were clean and certainly I’d never had one that had been in my arse. For a moment or two I thought of refusing but I heard the cries from Dees as his arse was given a few hard strokes of the whip. I opened my mouth and took the head in but the rest of it was soon forced to the back of my throat causing me to gag. It was still in my mouth when I felt my arse being invaded again. This time it did go in a little easier and again I was made to clean his filthy member when he finished.

There followed an evening when we were fucked hard in both our holes and when we became messy they forced Dees to lick us clean. I found that almost enjoyable but I don’t think he did. As a sort of reward, he got to fuck Ally. When it all quietened down, I lay sandwiched between Pavlos at the front and another soldier at my back. Ally lay in a similar sandwich and Dees had his mouth around a man’s prick. Exhausted as I was sleep came quickly but not before I had time to look back over our first day in the Chamber of Horrors. At that time I could still remember all that happened was not real; it was just part of a punishment. Everything seemed very real to us though. Certainly the pain from he whips and the rapes were real enough as was the taste of the filthy pricks we had to suck. As I lay between the two men, I tried not to move and disturb them but my arse throbbed with the beatings, my cunt seemed as though it had been sandpapered and my arsehole was on fire. We had six more days of this and I wondered if I would survive it. Little did I realise that it would get worse, much worse.

 

Chapter 5. Day 2

I slept fitfully but was soundly asleep when the captain moved and woke me just as the morning sky was beginning to lighten. I could feel his hardness against my stomach and knew what to expect. He raped me again without any consideration for my soreness. I fully anticipated being gang-banged but the captain just roused everyone and told them to prepare to march in a short while. Us slaves made our way to the temporary latrine with the others and then to the river where we shed our clothes and bathed in the cold water. Ally’s back was criss-crossed with fine welts and her arse was purple-blue. I guessed mine was the same. Certainly my tits were bruised and red like hers. Dees arse had more deep welts and all three of us found walking difficult. The prospect of another day’s march was quite daunting although I remembered the centurion’s words about us seeing him at midday so perhaps it wasn’t as far as I thought.

The cold and fast running water felt good and I hoped it would take some of the fire from my body and ease the discomfort of the blisters between my toes. I rubbed as much of the grime from my body as I could and then started to do Ally’s back. That seemed to be a cue for a soldier to do mine which he did rather harder than I liked but I managed not to complain even when he spent unnecessary time between my legs.

As we hobbled back to where our scanty clothes lay on the damp grass I heard one of the soldiers, Marcus I think it was, comment to the captain that we ought to have our blisters treated otherwise we’d never complete the journey without being carried. That was one thing I noticed during our period of ‘slavery’; it was the lower class of people who showed us most consideration. “Get on and do it then,” barked the captain and Marcus and another soldier quickly ran to a wild area and came back with handfuls of leaves from a plant I didn’t recognise. Taking some fatty ointment from his bag, he smeared our feet with it and wrapped them in the soft leaves before inserting them in our sandals. We all were very relieved at the comfort it gave and hoped it would last for the rest of our journey. Marcus also surreptitiously rubbed the fat into my cunt and it soothed the soreness there too.

All too soon we were made to dress and form up ready for the march. There was no breakfast since we had eaten the meagre supply of food the previous evening. The soldiers didn’t seem unduly worried, probably they’d had to march on an empty stomach many times, but I felt mine grumble painfully. I could barely then remember the last breakfast we had in the prison cell.

Slowly we started off. This time Dees was ordered to lead, Ally followed and I was at the rear of our group, flanked on one side by the captain and on the other his second in command. Both had their whips to encourage us to walk faster and we all felt their sting for the first half-mile or so. Our legs were very stiff from the previous day and we could still feel our blisters but they were much less painful than they would have been without the poultices. After ten minutes or so, our muscles seemed to free themselves and we began to walk more freely even if it was a little slower than the soldiers would have liked. I heard them say it was a couple of leagues to the next staging post but I had no idea how far a league really was. It seemed a long way and the sun was climbing the sky before we crested a rise and saw it below us.

The situation was similar to the other staging post we’d visited. First to the latrines and then into a dark cool room where we were given bread and water. This time however, I’d hardly taken a bite of the bread when the captain told me to go into the kitchen and service the cook. “Give him a good time and we’ll all get extra meat, you too if you please him enough.” Knowing it was useless to refuse and in any case, a dozen or more men had now fucked me in the last twenty-four hours, I went through the low doorway.

“What does it matter if I do prostitute myself to get a bit extra food?” I asked myself, “Best eat what I can when it is offered. I expect we’ll all be ravished by the soldiers before we set off again.” The cook was a huge obese man and my first thought was as to how he would get his prick anywhere near my vagina but that was soon solved. Two of his assistants roughly removed my tunic and skirt, managing to tear the sleeve away from the body of my tunic but I had little time to ponder on how I would mend it. They laid me on a chopping block still somewhat bloody from earlier butchery, and held my legs apart. By the standard of the soldiers, the cook’s prick was not overly large but was still bigger than Dees. It slipped in easily and I silently thanked Marcus for the fat he’d put there before we started.

Cook didn’t appear very pleased with my lying passively and I knew to get the extra food, I would have to put some effort in to please him. “Please let go of my ankles,” I requested the assistants and when they did I scissored them around cook’s waist and started to pull him into me at every stroke, like I’d seen on an XXX video at college. I’d never had a man with such a large paunch and the way it hit my belly aggravated my hunger. I hoped and prayed my efforts would be worth it. He grinned and started to pull out further at each stroke so he could ram it in harder. With their hands now free, the assistants started mauling my tits and nibbling my nipples but they were fairly considerate in their handling of them. Fortunately this started my juices flowing and, aided by the fat, the fuck was almost enjoyable. Indeed I did have a minor climax before he finished. He mumbled something about wanting to keep my juices on his prick so I didn’t even have to suck him clean. Both the other men then had me, but were so worked up from watching the cook and me at it, they came very quickly. While the first one was fucking me I saw cook pass a platter of food to the captain and wondered if there would be any left for me but I needn’t have worried. He brought me a large piece of meat on a bone and a bunch of red grapes. I have no idea what the meat was, probably goat, but that didn’t worry me at the time. In a most unladylike manner, I scoffed it, tearing large pieces off with my teeth while the second man fucked me.

Still chewing at the meat on the bone and putting several grapes in my mouth at a time, I was ushered back in to the dining area with the soldiers. For a few moments I felt guilty at not having offered some of my food to Ally and Dees but Ally was sitting naked on a soldier’s lap and being fed morsels of his food. Dees sat strangely on another soldier and by the way he squirmed I realised he was impaled on the man’s prick. Marcus grabbed me almost as soon as I left the kitchen and led me to an empty space and I did relieve my guilt a little by pausing in front of Dees and allowing him a bite of my meat. “Did the ointment help with the cook?” Marcus asked when entered my dripping cunt. I nodded and thanked him, He fucked me slowly as though he wanted to make it last but even so there was time for another soldier to have me before the captain formed us up again. My one sleeved tunic and my skirt, which I found had a rip that revealed my right buttock, caused some merriment but as soon as we started off, the soldiers were their disciplined selves. To my chagrin, Ally and Dees tunics seemed more or less whole.

On we went for I guess over an hour and in the heat of the day we all sweated profusely and the sun played havoc with my exposed skin. At last we came to a small stream where we rested in the shade of a grove of olive trees. Ally asked the captain if we could have leaf hats like yesterday and he agreed but it was Marcus who went and found the leaves for us; the leaves of the olive were unsuitable. “How much further?” I asked him when he fitted my hat.

“About an hour or maybe two at our pace.” It was probably nearer two. For the first hour we slogged up quite a steep hill but at the top we had a superb view and could see Narmos below but some miles away. We also felt the cooler breeze as it swept over the sea and up the hill. Even at that distance we could see Narmos was a thriving port with tiny ships sailing nearby. We were all feeling relieved that the end of our march was in sight but very apprehensive as to what would be our fate when we arrived. By now my mind was totally into my role as a slave and could barely remember that all this was not real life.

Descending the hill was torture on our blistered feet. Each downward step threw our whole weight on them and only Dees managed not to cry out with the pain. We were almost at the bottom and only a mile or so from the city wall when Ally finally collapsed, mainly I guessed through heat exhaustion. Without thinking I went and helped her up and Dees came to our aid. Between us we half carried her moaning and sobbing the rest of the way. My appeal to the captain to get the soldiers to help us met with a sharp rebuke. So we stumbled very slowly on my feet taking more punishment from the extra weight. It was only afterwards that I realised they had hardly used the whips on us that day. Probably that had more to do with presenting us to the centurion and for the governor’s entertainment than compassion on their part.

Finally we passed through a gateway into the walled enclosure and collapsed in a heap in the shade of an overhanging roof. There we just sobbed and wailed, oblivious to those who passed and stared at us. My feet, my legs and back all screamed with pain and I guess the others were in the same situation. Ally I noticed was cuddled in Dees arms and for a few moments I felt a stab of jealousy. Pavlos allowed us to cry and scream for only short while before we were abruptly told to shut up. “Mistress Petra will be out shortly to inspect you. When she comes you will be quiet, you will kneel with heads bowed and your right hand on your left shoulder,” he informed us and such was the menace in his voice that we did quieten somewhat although our tears still flowed freely.

Half-an-hour later a well dressed woman came out of the main building with her entourage. “Kneel!’ Pavlos ordered and we did as best we could. “Bow your heads!” I did but was overcome with dizziness and toppled on to the earth. Water sprinkled on my face revived me.

“I presume these wretches are the reason for your late arrival captain.” The woman had a sharp voice.

“Yes indeed ma’am. For peasants they seem to have little stamina and are unused to walking far. It is possible they are son and daughters of noble parentage,” answered the captain.

“And unable to do any hard work for a while. Just like that other useless slave the centurion brought in. We almost had to pay an old woman to take him off our hands. Still this trio will not have to walk far for the next few days. How well did they service the soldiers captain?”

“Satisfactorily only ma’am. The one they call Ettie improved when extra food was offered if her performance was good enough. Both women are quite tight ma’am and the boy has little experience with men.” I was appalled at the way he spoke about us.

“Have your men strip them now captain. I wish to see what is under those filthy rags.” Two soldiers ripped the remains of my tunic and skirt to shreds and started to unlace my sandals. In front of their superior, they could show us no compassion. I was ashamed and embarrassed at being stared at by the woman, the four boys who held an awning over her, two maids who stood on either side and a huge Turkish looking man who turned out to be a eunuch keeper of the harem. This embarrassment quickly faded at the sight of the blood soaked leaves caked to my feet. I screamed as the sandals were pulled off and both Ally and Dees did too. “Have them held up captain so I can see them properly,” the woman ordered. I could hardly see her through my tears but felt myself being lifted and turned so she could appraise my body. Ally I glimpsed was being displayed too but it was Dees that suffered worse ignominy.

“He looks very small,” the woman commented, “What size does it attain when it is ready for use captain?”

“Get him erect Ally,” the captain ordered her and pointed at Dees’ prick with his whip. Fortunately she had the sense to obey and started masturbating him with her hand. “Use you mouth you stupid slave,” snarled the captain.  “That’s a big as it gets ma’am. Not much to satisfy experienced women but some of the men appreciated it in their bottoms.”

The woman nodded and turned to the eunuch. “Clean them up and have them ready for tomorrow night’s entertainment. If you have to punish them, do it so there’s no marks showing. Make sure they are familiar with what they will have to do.” She left us in the care of the eunuch. The soldiers stood at attention with their hands across the chest salute until Mistress Petra entered the building and then they marched away.

“Come,” the eunuch beckoned, “I am called Zarka. You do as you are told, you no get hurt. You not talk.” We noted his accent and his hesitant use of english. At the time, I had completely forgotten we were in the Chamber of Horrors and was highly puzzled as to why all the Romans spoke our language. Tiredly we helped each other along the paved path to a side entrance to the building. Each step was sheer agony. My bare, blistered, swollen and bloody feet gave me hellish pain each time we placed them on the ground and the others fared only a little better. Fortunately the paving was smooth and not a rough dirt track like we’d walked along for so long. Finally we made it to the door and entered.

 

Chapter 6. At Narmos

Inside the building was cool but airy and finely decorated. “Sit,” Zarka said and then went and spoke to a middle-aged lady who by her dress, or rather the lack of it, we correctly guessed was a slave. All she wore was a skirt of a pale blue gauze material and slippers of a matching colour. The woman left and shortly afterward returned with three male slaves, one of whom had been whipped recently. The stripes across his back and presumably his bottom too looked fairly fresh and he winced when he picked me up. “Carry them to pool room,” Zarka instructed.

The pool room was light and sunlight filtered through grills near the roof, The main pool was about twenty metres square with a smaller pool at one end which took the run off water from the main pool. People washed in the small pool before entering the main one. When we arrived several naked girls and a couple of men were quietly languishing in the water or sitting on the stone benches around it. All stopped and stared as we entered. “Sit so feet are in water,” Zarka ordered, “Jonas fetch Naomi the healer. Their feet need attention.” Jonas was the slave who’d carried me. At first the water stung a little but gradually the pain eased and the leaves that had helped earlier in the day slowly began to float clear of the blood that now glued them to our feet. I hardly dared to look at mine.

Presently Jonas returned. “Naomi and her assistant will be down shortly. I have to wash your feet before she arrives. I’ll be as careful as I can but I don’t want another whipping because she doesn’t think I cleaned them properly. She gave me a sponge and a bottle of stuff she said would help clean the wounds but it will sting a bit.” With that remark he dropped his skirt and went into the water. I guess the sight of us roused him because he was half hard and I wondered if the water would cool his ardour. It didn’t. Perhaps the sight of our naked quims right in front of his face increased his hardness. Like every male we met, he was well endowed. I was more worried about him handling my feet and I guess the others were too. However, he did try and be as gentle as he could but we all cried out at times, even Dees, especially when the astringent was put on.

From her appearance I could well believe Naomi to be some sort of shaman. Dressed in long robes that covered her from the neck to her ankles, she looked about ninety years old but probably wasn’t. Perhaps it was that her assistant following a pace behind looked very young. The girl put the heavy tray she was carrying, on a nearby stone seat and waited for Naomi’s instructions but her first words were to Jonas.

“Lay her on her back and hold her feet up where I can see them.” Her voice was quiet but sharp toned. In other circumstances I might have been embarrassed but with all that had gone on in the past two days, I was almost blasé to the fact that all of them could look right between my legs to see my exposed slit. She examined me and carefully pulled each toe apart and touched the raw and, in places, still bleeding wounds. The girl peered closely and listened to the whispered instructions that Naomi gave. Occasionally she asked a question but I guessed our conditions were pretty much routine. Ally and Dees feet were in slightly better condition but were still badly blistered and had small open wounds. We were not encouraged when Naomi said, “If you can keep off of them, you should be able to walk fairly well in a week but that may not be practical in your circumstances.” With that prognosis she left the room.

“I’m Bella,’ the girl introduced herself, “I have to dress your wounds and then you must keep them out of the water. If I am allowed, I will check them again tomorrow. I’m afraid the ointment will sting but it will prevent the sores from festering.” ‘Sting,’ was an understatement. As soon as she applied it I screamed and Jonas had to hold me so Bella could tie on the cloth bandages. Fortunately the pain died down but it gave us about ten minutes of real agony. Ally I guessed screamed as loudly as I had and Dees cried out too. The bathers looked at us with contempt but kept as far from us as the pool allowed.

For a little while after Bella had left, we sat on the seats and watched the girls and young men play in the water. “They’re harem slaves,” Ally’s slave informed us, “They get privileges. You have to hope that the governor takes a liking to you and doesn’t send you to work in the kitchens or the whorehouse.”

Zarka returned after about half an hour and by then our feet began to feel more comfortable although they throbbed painfully. “Take them to eat, then to slave quarters. They free for slave use. Naomi says they not to walk unless superior demands.” We all guessed that ‘free for slave use’, meant we would be fucked again. I remember trying to calculate if I would become pregnant but I couldn’t recall my last period.

The programmers must have decided to intersperse respites with periods of extreme hardship and pain because for the remainder of that evening and much of the next day, we rested apart from sexual intercourse with other slaves, male and female.

Jonas carried me to what turned out to be his bed pallet. The other two slaves carried Ally and Dees and argued as to whose bed Ally was to sleep in. It was settled when a woman, who seemed to have more authority than the others, ordered her to be put on a bed slightly higher than the others. It was her bed.  Ally had a far more peaceful night than I did. She had to make love to the woman but then curled up with her. Dees was kept busy servicing a couple of buxom female slaves. Jonas took me first and although he didn’t try to hurt me, in fact none of the slaves did, I was still tender from the fucks earlier in the day. The other two of ‘our’ slaves followed him. The second one decided I was too messy in my vagina, so he fucked my arse. Again he didn’t deliberately try to cause me pain but inevitably, given the size of their pricks, he did. Around me I could hear the sounds of others having intercourse and I hoped the other male slaves would be occupied but no, there seemed an endless stream of men wanting me. Fortunately the arrival of Zarka finished all that and I spent the night sleeping relatively peacefully alongside Jonas.

Naomi and Bella inspected our feet the next morning and I was surprised to see how much better they looked. Whatever was in the ointment, certainly seemed to work. It was still very painful to walk but the open sores were healing nicely. “I’ll get Zarka to take you to the pool and you can bathe your feet and then Bella will put more ointment on them. Keep the bandages on as long as you can but I guess they will have to come off before the Governor and the centurion inspects you,” She told us. “I doubt I will get to see you again unless you’re transferred to the harem, so try and wash them as often as you can. If nothing else urinate on them.” Ally and I looked disgusted. “It will be more beneficial than plain water,” she added before leaving us. I vaguely remembered hearing that piss was quite sterile but couldn’t remember where or why.

Even though we weren’t allowed to walk, Zarka had us carried to the barracks area where they set us to work cleaning the brass ceremonial shields. It was a messy job and in these days we would have been forced to wear protective clothing and gloves; there we wore no clothes at all. We sat on stone benches and worked with the shields on our laps. The smelly red paste quickly smeared the front parts of our bodies and our tits seemed to catch the brunt of it as we turned and rubbed the paste over the shields with some matted plant fibres. I laughed for the first time since our capture when Ally scratched her boobs and left red finger trails across them. Dees prick started to harden and that too became coated with red so it looked raw. When the overseer wasn’t looking Ally grabbed it and made sure it was properly coated. A crack of the whip put a stop to our merriment. Soon our hands became blistered and sore but the overseer showed us no sympathy and cracked his whip to encourage us to work harder.

Sometime after we’d had our midday meal of tasteless slops a woman slave came and told the overseer we had to be made presentable ready for the Governor’s inspection. There was no one to carry us so we had to walk or rather hobble across the cobbled courtyard to a bathhouse. It even had warm water running into a small pool. “You must take the bandages off now and get yourselves really clean. I’m the only one they’ve sent to help so you’ll also have to wash each other,” the slave informed us. Dees and Ally quickly decided they would work together and that left me with the middle-aged woman. She left us to soak while she went off and returned with a basket of plants and handed a bunch to Dees and Ally and then removed her skirt and got into the pool. “Don’t you even know what soap plants are?” she queried Ally who was staring at them. None of us had even heard of them but when she started to rub the plants over my body, they did produce a sort of lather and I’m sure they helped to remove the grime but it also aggravated some of the whip welts. I cried out several times when she rubbed particularly tender places and was rebuked for making so much fuss. Ally was taking time cleaning Dees’ prick and of course he was enjoying the attention. “Hurry up!” the woman reproved them too, “We don’t wish to incur the Governor’s displeasure for not being clean or properly oiled. While we dried in the warm room, she produced a wooden comb and did my hair and left me to do Ally’s while she went off again. Dees was useless at that. On her return she poured a little olive oil into our hands and we massaged it into our bodies. For the first time in what seemed ages, I felt clean. The oil made our bodies shine but emphasised the contrast between our sunburned arms and legs and our much whiter bodies. The main problem was still our feet. We did rub the oil between our toes and it may have helped a little but it also caused dirt and grit to stick to our feet.

Our period of respite came to an abrupt end when Zarka collected us and took us to the Governor. “They really are pathetic creatures,” he commented when finally we limped into his presence. “I probably wouldn’t get more than few coins for all three at the market.” We stood as instructed with our legs apart and hands on hips while he poked and probed our bodies, especially our two nether openings. Dees was possibly more embarrassed because the Governor pulled and massaged his prick to an erection. “They don’t have the graces for the harem and don’t have the strength or stamina for work slaves. What say you Zarka?” the Governor asked.

“You say true Sir. Maybe they come from noble parents. They certainly not used to work.” I tried to remember who my parents were but could not. Zarka went on, “Captain says they entertain the men well enough Sir. Maybe they entertain your less welcome guests?”

“Aha, like those Huns! That’s good my old friend. I didn’t want them spoiling all my best girls and boys. These won’t matter.” The Governor continued to inspect and poke his fingers in our openings causing us to cry out and each time we did, Zarka slapped us hard with his bare hand. “String them up in the punishment room and redden the white parts of their bodies until they match their arms and legs. No stripes Zarka but get them nicely tender and have them ready in the ante room after the feast.” Turning to us he went on, “I don’t want to hear any complaints from our friends; you are to give yourselves to them in any way they want otherwise you will be crucified and flogged until the blood runs freely from your bodies. Understand that you wretched slaves?” Ally and I were already sobbing and the Governor had to repeat the question before we answered.

 

Chapter 7. A horsetail flogging

Zarka led us outside the building and along a sharp gravel path to a large room at the back of the main building. The stones once more played havoc with our feet and undid most of Naomi healing. Blood again oozed from between our toes and mine were bleeding freely by the time we finally made it to the relatively soft, deep sand floor of the room. Our relief was short lived because the sand grains stuck to the blood and further abraded the skin. For a few moments we stood just inside the door, holding on to each other for support and comfort and while Zarka gave instructions to a couple of slaves on the equipment to set up, I had a quick look round.

The room was large, being built on to the back wall of the main building. The outer wall had openings high up which allowed light in and the smoke from a brazier at the far end to filter out. Rings and wooden structures, undoubtedly meant for restraining those being punished, were affixed to the wall below the light openings. But it was the inner wall that puzzled me. Along the length of it were a series of small openings rather like those in the projection rooms of cinemas. I found out later that there was a corridor between the wall and the main building where spectators could sit and watch the whippings and shout encouragements to the torturers.

My observations were short lived. “Rake sand,” Zarka ordered and pointed to a wooden rake. I hobbled over and raked the area under where three ropes now hung down from the roof. The sand smelled of stale piss and I guessed some victims hadn’t been able to control their bladders. There were other darker patches, which I was pretty sure were dried blood. All this heightened our apprehension as to our fate. I remembered the Governor had ordered us to only be reddened but how painful would that be? What if we didn’t satisfy the guests tonight? From what he had said, they could well be very brutal with us. Ally and Dees stood close to each other and watched and I guessed they had similar thoughts to mine. We didn’t dare speak to each other in Zarka’s presence. Finally my task was deemed complete but my poor feet were now totally encrusted with blood and sand.  I’m sorry if this makes it seem as if I have a foot fetish but the truth of the matter is, at the time they caused me tremendous pain; pain that was there all the time. The lash of the whip brought a sharp burning pain that after a while died down somewhat although the stripes were still painful to touch and at that stage we hadn’t experienced a full whipping.  I later wondered if the programmers had arranged the blistering to our feet or if it was an unexpected interaction side effect. Zarka instructed us to each stand under a rope and the slaves tied our wrists to them and hauled us up until we could barely stand on our feet.

Someone behind a wall window shouted, “Lash them well Zarka,” but he just shook his head and from the whips hanging nearby selected one that appeared made from the tail of a horse with a handle affixed. It looked deceptively soft but we soon found that it carried a mean sting especially as Zarka used it with considerable force. It was bad enough when he scourged our backs but he took great delight in laying it across our breasts and stomachs. He even lashed our armpits and the underside of our arms. We danced and scraped our feet on the sand in a futile endeavour to avoid the lash, which of course, further aggravated our wounds. The sting from each individual lash was bearable but the cumulative effect of the lengthy whipping increased exponentially and by the time we were deemed sufficiently reddened, we were all sobbing and wailing uncontrollably.  However Zarka wasn’t finished. “Hold their legs apart,” he ordered the slave helpers. In turned he lashed us between the legs first from the front and then from the rear. Dees was first and he screamed loudly as the tail whip bit into his balls; Ally fainted and I felt myself going by the time he stopped and we were lowered to the sand.

For a few minutes he allowed us to lie curled up in agony and then ordered the slaves to assist us to our feet for the painful walk along the gravel path. I fell part way along causing further abrasions to my arms and legs and was helped up but I fell again after a few steps and decided that I might as well lie there and die. The others were in no state to help; their feet were in nearly the same condition as mine. I must have passed out because the next thing I remember was being carried into the slaves’ pool room and having my feet lowered into the water. Naomi appeared and scolded Zarka for undoing all her healing but he just shrugged. Bella jumped into the water and cleaned the wounds and after staunching the blood flows, applied more ointment but said she wasn’t allowed to put bandages on because the guests wouldn’t wish to see them.

Naomi was able to persuade Zarka to have us carried to the bedroom where we could rest until required to service the Huns but even so the beds provided little relief from our pain. A slave brought a tray of food but none of us felt like eating although we eagerly drank the water she brought. My whole body felt like it had been flayed or like I had been out in the burning sun for far too long but there was no cream or medication to alleviate the pain in any way. Ally asked to be taken to the latrines and a while later Jonas came and carried us one at a time. Peeing was an unpleasant experience; the acid liquid stung the enflamed lips of my vagina so badly that I wished I had relieved my bladder into the sand during the flogging but that may have resulted in further whipping. Resting was a most uncomfortable time for us. The straw filled palliasses were hard to our tender skin and there was no part of our bodies we could really put any weight on without causing further pain. In the end we lay on our sides because they seemed to hurt least. Even so my movements opened up the lesions in my feet and once more they dribbled blood.

For a while we were left alone and could tearfully hold a whispered conversation but mostly this was speculation as to what would happen later and the chances of surviving our ordeal as slaves. Without being able to walk, let alone run, escape was out of the question. And if we did where would we escape to? Our home was a village we could not remember but we’d been told it was in the mountains. We knew nothing of our parents or even if they survived the raid by the soldiers.

After about an hour we heard voices; Petra and her retinue entered the room. A black slave cracked his whip and ordered us to stand. Both Ally and I collapsed after only a few seconds on our feet. Petra was not best pleased. When we were revived she loudly castigated us for our condition, as though it was our fault, and then sent for Zarka and roundly berated him. He abjectively apologised but said, “I only do Governor’s orders ma’am. Their bodies so tender ma’am. You hardly touch them and skin breaks - they pass out.”

Petra seemed to ignore this and went on, “You knew they were supposed to entertain our guests at dinner. You even suggested it. How can they dance or show their graces to our guests in this condition? They would be a humiliation to our friends and to us. When the time comes, put them in room set aside for our guests’ entertainment and keep the lights low. It is important that the Huns do not feel insulted by being given inferior slaves for their enjoyment. Have our shaman attend them and woe betide your hide Zarka if she cannot make them fit for tonight’s work.” She turned to us. “You will do everything in your power to satisfy the men tonight. Fail and you will be publicly flogged until there is little skin on your worthless hides. You do everything they want even if it hurts because if you fail, the consequences will be far, far worse. Do you understand?”

All three of us were crying piteously but we murmured, “Yes ma’am.”

Naomi said she would do what she could but it would be little enough. Bella was sent back for further supplies and returned with two middle-aged female slaves. They and Bella rubbed a warming oil into our sore flesh while Naomi concentrated on grinding some herbs and other ingredients in a stone mortar. Vaguely I saw her add wine to the concoction but I was more concerned with the pain the massage was causing. I know the woman was trying to be gentle but when she started on my tits, I let out a horrendous scream. “Hush,” the woman said, “The men will not be as gentle. Far from it, the girls that attended them last night were well bruised this morning.” Naomi sharply told the woman to hold her tongue. The news did nothing to calm our nerves or subdue our crying.

The wine/herb concoction was now measured into a small cup. “Drink it all,” Naomi commanded. It tasted absolutely foul but after about a quarter of an hour the others said the pain began to recede a little but was still pretty fearsome. I still couldn’t stand or walk properly and had great difficulty in keeping the concoction down. In a short while I was heartily sick and must have thrown up most of the medicine. The other two looked queasy but, having retained the substance, they seemed a little freer of pain. Naomi looked disgusted with me. “I can do no more for you,” she said.

 

Chapter 8. Sentenced to the Galleys

The evening was a total disaster. Eight burly men entered the room and immediately turned the wicks up on the oil lamps. Their tempers rose when they saw the state of us. “So this is what the Governor meant when he said there were tender morsels waiting for our attention. The cheating bastard! We’ll make sure they’re tender and then we’ll demand some fresher meat.” The leader fumed. “Shut up you snivelling bitch,” he yelled as he fore handed and back handed my already painful tits. I heard Ally scream and Dees yelled; they were having similar treatment. Without any preliminaries the leader rammed his prick into my dry vagina, still swollen and tender from the horsetail whipping.  He raped me hard while one of the others held me still until one of the others took his place. When I didn’t stop screaming from the hellish pain they boxed my ears so hard that, mercifully, I passed out and when I next came to, all three of us were in huddled in dark, damp room. Ally was awake and moaning and trying to cuddle me back into life. Dees was at her side and holding her. At this stage I’m sure we all believed we were to die, the only question was, how soon? We’d long ago lost sight of the fact that this was all make-believe in the Chamber of Horrors. For us the situation was absolutely real. We were slaves to some very sadistic people.

Ally voiced her fears. “We’re all going to be tortured to death for that aren’t we Ettie?” I feared she was right but didn’t want to say so. “How do you think they will do it? In the arena fighting wild beasts?”

“I doubt it,” Dees spoke up, “In our condition we wouldn’t put up any sort of a fight so there would not be any spectacle worth seeing.” Although my mind wasn’t very clear, I knew he was right. I think we all remembered the Governor’s words about being crucified and flogged on a cross but no one mentioned it.

We lay for what seemed like days in the darkness, frequently passing in and out of consciousness. When morning came a little light filtered in through a grill high in the wall and we looked at each other. Our bodies were a mass of welts and bruises with mud now adhering where we must have relieved ourselves on the earthen floor during the night. By then all the screaming had gone from our lips and we just moaned and tried to find as comfortable position as we could alongside each other. Sometime during the morning, three soldiers came and carried us to a stream that was probably the outflow from the pool because the water was murky. Carefully they lowered us into the water and with their bare hands carefully washed the worst of the mess from us. The water stung and even the gentle touches hurt our bodies but it was nice to feel clean again. From remarks the soldiers made I know they disapproved of our treatment. One of them said to Ally, “Women with bodies like yours should be looked after so that men can take pleasure from it. They should not be abused so badly that no man dare touch you.”

When we’d dried in the sun, they carried us back to the main building where an angry looking Zarka met us and tried to make us stand until Petra came to sentence us. Standing was a near impossibility for me and difficult for the others and we collapsed to the floor. My feet were purple-red and swollen to an enormous size.  I knew they were infected.

Half an hour later Petra and her retinue arrived, “Kneel and bow your worthless heads,” she ordered. “My husband wanted you all publicly flogged in the courtyard but I pointed out that with one touch of the whip you would all pass out. You’re such feeble specimens of humanity. You could not walk the few leagues from the mountains to here without your feet becoming so blistered you cannot even stand. You must have lived the sheltered lives of the very privileged. So what shall we do with you?” Petra paused and we knew not to answer. “I suggested and the Governor has agreed that the best solution was to put you to work where you sat on your bottoms all the time, although I have no doubt they are a little tender too.” She paused again and from the smile she had on her face, I had a feeling that we weren’t going to enjoy whatever sit-down job she had in mind. I wasn’t wrong. “You will be taken to the docks and trained as galley slaves. And not just any galley slaves, you will be part of the racing galley and you will have to train hard because the big race is the day after tomorrow. Woe betide you if you lose. You will be whipped until the blood runs freely and then fed to the sharks. Shark food is really all you are fit for.”

Shortly after we found ourselves, still naked, in a cart trundling through the town and into a compound guarded by soldiers. We were deposited outside a large building and Ally and Dees had to help me inside. It was the quarters for the slave crews of the galleys. Here we hit another of the programmers respite times. The galleys were out training and only a few guards and other slaves were around. An elderly woman looked at us with disgust and commented that we could hardly swat a fly let alone handle an oar. Nevertheless she gave us some food and drink and told us to rest on a palliasse for a while.

Presently a huge male slave came and inspected us and he too grunted his disapproval at our condition, “How do they expect me to get such feeble specimens into a fit condition to race in a year, let alone in two days?” he asked the woman.

She shrugged. “Governor’s orders Remus. Seems like some sort of punishment so the soldiers said.”

“And everyone gets punished if we don’t win the race. I guess the Governor’s putting his money on the Alexis boat. I’d better make the effort to repair some of the damage that has been done otherwise they are not even going to make it down to the dock.” Remus seemed to be something between a masseur and a physiotherapist and he soon had his hands digging deeply into our muscles while an assistant poured warm oil on our skin. His fingers caused us more pain and we soon were yelling yet again but this time we felt that he was trying to help us. Of course it was our feet that caused him great concern especially mine. Mine were swollen to an impossible size and throbbed with each heartbeat. Something in the back of my mind told me that I needed antibiotics before the poison spread to the rest of my body, but I couldn’t remember what antibiotics were. My recollections of the twenty-first century had faded and I think the same was true for the others.

Remus handled my feet very carefully and his expression told me that he was very concerned about them. He spoke to his assistant who then ran off and returned with a jar. To my horror it was filled with living creatures that I knew, without ever seeing them before, to be leeches. Ally and I both screamed at the sight of them and she, being more squeamish over such things, fainted. This amused the onlookers who’d now gathered round and who, on Remus’ command, held me still and lifted my feet in the air. Had I been in less pain and fearful of what was to happen, I might have felt shame at my exposed stance but I was more concerned at the pain the leeches were going to cause. Remus deftly picked one of the creatures from the water and placed on the underside of my right foot near the soft flesh between the ball of the sole and my toes. I felt nothing except a tickling sensation at first then nothing. “It’s not going to bite,” I thought as I watched Remus place one on the other foot. He put several more on the underside of my foot where I couldn’t see them and then two more of the top. It became obvious that the leeches were feeding although I felt nothing but I could see their bodies swelling with the blood. My blood. More were applied and I noticed Ally and Dees were staring with undisguised horror as the bodies of he leeches became so bloated I thought they could burst. Ally asked if they stung like wasps but I assured her there was no pain from them. Since being back I found out that they inject an anaesthetic which nullifies the pain of the bite, hence in the wild they can feed on creatures without them knowing. Gradually the leeches became so engorged they could take in no more and dropped off. It amazed me that the swelling in my feet already seemed to be going down and the throbbing had eased a little. The ointment Remus applied smelt similar to that the soldiers used earlier so it was probably a standard recipe. The others had ointment put on theirs too, but didn’t have the leech treatment.

For several hours we rested and after another session with the hideous leeches, I started to recover a little although whenever I tried to move, more pain went through my body. The bruises and whip marks were still very much in evidence and I hardly dared to touch my now purple tits. Judging by the sun, it was late afternoon when a group of male and female slaves entered the building. They all looked muscular and had well-tanned bodies but I was quick to notice that many bore whip marks across their shoulders and upper chest although the marks weren’t particularly deep. At first they treated our presence with some hilarity until they learned that we were to be part of the rowing team and then it turned to hatred and direct animosity. “We’ll all be flogged if we have them in the galley. We won’t stand a chance of winning so perhaps we should see they fall over the side tomorrow,” muttered one and this seemed to be agreed by the others.

A few minutes later a man, who was the galley master, stormed into the room and cracked his whip to move the slaves away from us.  To say he was furious was an understatement. “After all the training we’ve done to get a crew that pull strongly and together, I have three little runts who don’t know the first thing about rowing, foisted on me so we have no chance of winning. By all the gods of the sea, I’ll make sure you don’t spoil our chances. I’ve put all my savings on winning this race and I don’t intend to lose them because of you. We’ll find a way out of this mess.” I had a feeling that his way out might be similar to that of the rest of the crew. He grabbed Ally and angrily left the room. When she returned she said that he’d raped her but that had calmed him down a bit.

Fortunately a few of the slaves understood that we, like they, had no choice in the matter and helped us into the dining area when food was served. It seemed that the rowers had a better fare than most slaves to build up their strength so we too had our first fulfilling meal since our capture. That night several male slaves came and forcibly raped us. It seemed they were forbidden to fuck the female rowers in case they got them pregnant. On normal nights, there was much homosexual activity so Dees was also well used. All this ended fairly early and having had little rest for several nights, I managed to sleep for a few hours until we were woken and Remus came and anointed our feet. He also wrapped them with the same leaves the soldiers used and gave us sandals. It was still painful for me to walk but at least I wouldn’t get dirt in the wounds especially the noisome mess surrounding the latrines the slaves used.

The cracking of whips summoned us outside and, with other whip-wielding overseers flanking our column, we were marched to the docks. Once we left the enclosure, the overseers insisted the slaves trot at a brisk pace. Even Dees couldn’t do this and I could barely hobble at walking pace. We hadn’t gone many paces before I stumbled and fell causing the next two slaves to tumble over me to the anger of the overseers who then used their whips to sort out the resulting mess. The other two couldn’t keep up the pace either, even when encouraged by the whips, but they did manage to get out of the column without creating another pile-up. Cursing, one of the overseers, whipped us as we lay and then ordered us to our feet and forced us to continue on our way, our backs smarting terribly from the lashes. I had little hope of surviving the day and in some ways hoped it wouldn’t be too long before we were fed to the sharks. “How much more abuse can my body take?” I asked myself. In some ways I was surprised that I hadn’t passed out from the whipping. I guessed it was the fact that I was curled up on the ground and it was mainly my shoulders that took the brunt of it. Escorted by one overseer, we eventually tottered to the dock.

By the time we arrived at the galley, everyone else was in position with just three spaces in the centre of the boat. My only experience of rowing was on a small boating lake with oars no longer than myself. The oar I found myself seated at was four times as long and many times as heavy. I doubted that I had the strength to move it; I found I could but not with the power or speed of the regular crew. Ally sat ahead of me and Dees across the aisle from her. We were ordered to keep our oars high out of the water until we cleared the dock. A male slave sitting alongside gave me instructions on handling the oar and others were showing Ally and Dees and made some tentative strokes while everyone else rested. Dees picked the method up quite quickly but Ally and I just splashed the water until the galley master lost patience and we felt his whip several times across our fronts. I felt myself fading but recovered.

With a steady banging of the drum, everyone started to pull on their oars and we tried to keep in step with them even if we didn’t dip the blade far into the water. However our timing was soon at odds with the rest and my blade clashed with Ally’s who clashed with the one in front creating a domino effect. Again the whip caressed our backs and fronts in a painful way and we could tell the galley master was becoming increasingly angrier. Time and time again we tried to keep up but our best effort only went on for about twenty strokes before the drum increased its tempo and another big clash brought the galley to a halt again. The galley master’s big whip caught me across both my nipples and this time I did pass out.  He must have continued to whip me because when I awoke I had a number of livid weals across the top of my chest. “Throw me over the side,” I pleaded.

“I only wish I dared,” the master growled, “But the Governor has given strict instructions that you are to be here when he arrives for the race.” We returned to the dock and the regular crew replaced us. For a few minutes we watched as the boat sped away. Even through my tears I could see that it was actually a graceful sight when all the oarsmen pulled in unison and the boat sped along at a remarkable speed.

On returning to the main building we were locked in a small cell and once more left to wonder what our fate would be. No one came for hours, although we heard noises several times, and no one brought us food or water. Suddenly the door burst open and a group of slaves took us to a field where an old galley stood. It looked very incongruous but I rightly guessed it was a training ship. None of us had much hope of learning to row properly and our will to learn had gone. “What does it matter,” I said to myself, “We’ll be whipped whatever we do. The sooner they kill us off the better.” None of the slaves with us carried a whip so at least that was one good thing about this exercise.

We sat one behind the other this time, with one slave ahead of us and another behind. At least they showed more patience in their instruction and several hours later, we began to get into a rhythm at a slow speed, although by that time we were exhausted, our feet were throbbing worse than ever and our hands were blistered and raw and. I wondered if they too would become infected. The weight of our bodies might not have been on our feet but we certainly had to put a lot of pressure on them. Our backs too suffered from the strain of handling the heavy oars so we limped, bent over like people of advanced years, back to the building. I guess the slaves timed the finish of the session so we arrived in time for some food and then, wearied beyond any tiredness I’d ever known, I collapsed on to the straw mattress and slept. I think I must have been fucked in the night because I was sticky and messy when the cracking of whips awoke me. My body shook with dread at the thought of what might happen to us today. However, the galley master seemed in a better mood. I found out why later but before then we had another session on the training ship. This was not as exhausting as the previous session and we had fat and rags to protect our hands. Still our backs suffered but at least it wasn’t with the whips.

 

Chapter 9. The Race

Around midday the slaves took us to Remus who did his best to ensure our hands and backs were is as good a shape as was feasible given the circumstances. Early in the afternoon they assembled us in two groups outside the building and the main group set off at a fast pace in the direction of the docks. We and about a dozen other slaves with two overseers, set off shortly after at the fastest pace that I could shamble along. We assembled again at the docks and the Governor and his wife and the Centurion inspected us. “Looks as if they haven’t been doing too well,” Petra remarked as she fingered the livid welts left by the galley master’s whip.

“Remember it is a tit and prick flogging for all of you if you lose,” grinned the Governor. I couldn’t see that we had any chance of winning. To our surprise, when got to the dock, our group went to a smaller craft with just a dozen oarsmen while the regular crew boarded the racing galley. “There’s no hope at all now,” I thought until the Governor made a little speech.  “Friends, the main race around the island is between us and the Alexis boat you can see on the water over there.” From my position, I couldn’t see the boat but I could see an island perhaps a mile or more away to my right. “But we will have a subsidiary race to test the stamina of some captives we collected from the mountains. They are in a smaller galley so to be fair and to make a race of it where there is a chance they might win, I am giving them a water glass full of time ahead of the others.” He held up a glass cylinder that had water slowly dripping from it. I found out later that it was a primitive form of water clock. “It will also give the two main galleys time to get into position at the start.” He refilled the cylinder and held his finger over the opening, “Get ready – Go!” The order was repeated by our galley master.

To everyone’s amazement, we made the first fifty yards or so in fine style albeit at a slowish pace. Then the drumbeat speeded up and Ally didn’t’ quite keep in time and there was a clash of oars and disruption. One of the overseers rushed down the central gangway and lashed her front and back until we got going again.  It was only a matter of time before I made the same error and the wicked lash bit into my flesh. It did so many times later. It was true that sitting should have taken the weight off out feet but in fact it was our feet that provided much of the power to the oars and the pressure on them was much greater with oars that dipped into the sea than there was on the training boat. They were braced against a bar and with each stroke we had to push down hard on them.

Despite our mishaps I glimpsed we were abreast of the island but I dare not look in case I missed the stroke. My shoulders and chest above my breast were very sore from the lash already and despite being extremely tired and sore, I knew that failure would make things worse, much worse. For a while we had a spell where all went fairly well and we rounded the rocks at the end of the island. We had a slight advantage there. Being a smaller boat we could make a much smaller turning circle and could keep closer to the rocks but the bigger galleys had the advantage of much greater speed.  We passed them as they headed for the island and we were on the return leg. Both galleys were neck and neck and going a great speed with all their oars in perfect synchronisation. The galley master tried to speed us up but we were getting wearier by the second and of course that meant further lashings as we fouled up. Soon we could see the two galleys speeding towards us. That gave us some incentive and increased our adrenalin flow. It also caused the overseers to pace up and down the gangway and to lash indiscriminately to encourage a further effort.

We guessed there wasn’t far to go but we daren’t look round. The two galleys were approaching us at a fast pace and the masters urged us to even greater efforts. My heart hammered painfully inside my chest, my arms ached, my feet hurt; the lash kept stinging my already sore skin. I didn’t think I could do any more. Unless the finish was only yards away, then we were going to lose. Both galleys passed us but I had no idea which one was in the lead. Our galley master threw down his whip in disgust and the ominously picked it up again. On an order we stopped rowing and cruised into the dock. I leaned over the oar and was sick into the bottom of the boat and when I looked up I saw the eyes of the regular crew look at us with hatred. They had some idea of what was going to happen. Ally ahead of me was crying bitterly and I guess she was feeing as sore and as exhausted as me.  I was still hardly able to get my breath when the overseers made the women pull their oar close to the underside of their breasts so our tits were lying fully exposed on top. The men had to put their pricks and balls over the top of their oars. Knowing what was to come caused further restrictions in my throat making my breathing even more painful. Several times I thought I would pass out.

Then the screams started from behind me. Loud piercing screams from both male and female voices and I knew the whippings had begun. Screams intermingled with cheers from the dockside. Soon it was the man behind me and I knew it would be my turn shortly. Had I not been chained to the oar, I would have tried jumping into the water but that option was denied me. The overseer came to me and pushed my head back but as he raised his whip, the galley master stopped him. “These three are mine,” he growled, “We could have won easily if they’d put more effort in. Hold her still and keep her tits on the oar.” I knew to my horror that his whip was thick and more powerful than those the overseers carried. Again my dry throat constricted and I started choking and coughing but he only laughed and raised his whip high. I almost started to pass out before the stroke landed and indeed, I wished I had. The pain as the cruel lash flattened my tits against the wood was horrendous and I knew I couldn’t take any more punishment. My choking increased and when the second stroke laid a livid stripe alongside the first, my screams went silent. Bile choked my airway and I knew I was close to death. I welcomed death at that moment.

 

Slowly I opened my eyes. The light was dim but the pain had gone and I began to imagine I had arrived in heaven.  My body was wracked with sobs and I could hear others sobbing close by. As the light level increased so I could see Ally and Dees huddled nearby. The floor under me felt wet and I knew that at some point I pissed myself. For a little while we sat there totally bewildered; none of us could understand what was happening but as the white walled room became more apparent, the memory of our sentence in the Chamber of Horrors came back.

“Take your time to adjust to your surroundings. Hold each other and comfort your friends. We’ll have you out of here as soon as we think you are ready.” I recognised the soft voice of Dr. Freda Farqueson. “Don’t try and stand for a few minutes, your legs will be too shaky. Let yourselves cry as much as you wish. I’m sorry, none of us realised the programme was as severe as that and the automatic cut out brought you back a couple of days early, I had already applied to the judge for an early termination but she’s been unavailable.”

They did their best I suppose to treat us afterwards. We were taken by ambulance to hospital and ever since I’ve had psychiatric treatment but I still have nightmares. Of course there was an inquiry and recommendations made over the validity of the programme but that hasn’t helped me one bit. Perhaps the one good thing that came out of it was that Ally and Dees are now living together as an item. They suffered greatly too but fortunately missed the final tit and cock thrashing and had each other to hold in bed at night.

There it is Jacob, I’ve written the story of my ordeal but I doubt it will make much difference. Maybe it has only served to bring back the memories to the forefront of my mind again so I can relive them whenever I am alone and especially each night. That is the worst time, the time when you Jacob, my counsellor, should be with me to cuddle and comfort me. It is quite wrong for you to let so-called professional etiquette influence what you know is the best remedy for my malady. I know you want to be with me as much as I wish to be with you. Please come to my bed tonight and help me get over this terrible ordeal.

Juliette ‘Ettie’ Elizabeth Porter-Bowes