The Foundation

1

Welcome to Harmon

Pandora Kinky slid the luminous purple dildo into Lulu Sordid’s pink anal hole and pulsed her hips until the hilt brushed against the moist opening. Lulu moaned as the hardened plastic slithered deeper inside her, but her tongue was busy pleasuring the clitoris of Wanda Mounds, who was leaning back on the grass and massaging her huge breasts.

“Are you sure about this?” Pandora asked the man crouched beside the sharp light of the camera.

“This is great stuff, keeping going girls.”

“No, I mean doing it here, on a Sunday.”

“Don’t worry. Texans are never up before nine on a Sunday.”

       Jake Tar had convinced the girls to perform the traditional threesome ‘train’ routine, Lulu licking Mandy while being anally penetrated by Pandora, in the Harmon County local park. Tar claimed that he was making a series of videos entitled Pubic in Public and the girls would star in all twelve shows. Pandora was reluctant to refuse Tar’s offer. She was now approaching thirty, and a decade of ‘performance art’ in the outer circles of the ‘adult entertainment industry’ had earned her a tiny flat above a Chinese restaurant in the southern outskirts of LA, an asthmatic ten year old Chrysler and a fistful of bills. Tar had offered her more than her usual rate, which had plummeted in recent years in the absence of regular work, to come to this desolate patch of scrubland near the Mexican border with two other porn veterans, Lulu Sordid and Mandy Mounds.

       The ‘show’ had lasted more than half an hour, and this was the fourth time Pandora had sodomised Lulu with her broad strapon dildo before her audience of Tar, his cameraman Bob and Tar’s ‘assistant’ Sandra, a young blonde who possessed a decent pair of breasts, a clipboard and an officious manner. She hardly spoke to the three girls, and sat on a canvas chair during takes to observe their performance as if they were depraved animals.

“Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”

Pandora could barely turn because her strapon belt was intimately attached to Lulu, but she recognised the voice of female authority. Before she could rise from the grass her wrists were bound to the metallic click of handcuffs. The scent of perfume told Pandora that her captor was a woman. She leant close to whisper into her ear.

“Did you sluts think you could fuck in public in my county and get away with it?”

Within seconds all three ‘performers’ were on their feet and cuffed. Only later did Pandora recall that Tar, Bob and Sandra were not even taken to the police station. The two male officers holding Lulu and Mandy began to explore the girls’ bodies, dwelling in their moist crevices. Mandy wriggled in her cuffs as the officer inserted a thumb into her anus.

“We’re searching for concealed weapons.” Pandora later remembered Sandra’s laugh. The officer examined his stained thumb and wiped his finger on Mandy’s hair.

“What the fuck?” she shouted, writhing in her chains as she tried to draw away. The female officer stepped forward and slapped her across the face.

“Listen you slut. You’re just a whore, so don’t try anything with me or you’ll live to regret it.”

Pandora now saw that her captor wore the badge of a sheriff. Her skin was a light olive tone, with her black hair swept back with a short tress trailing down behind her shining cap. It was early morning, but she was wearing sunglasses and her light green shirt stretched across her ample breasts. Pandora recognised a shirt worn too small to accentuate a figure. The enticing image was aided by tight black pants and knee length boots. The badge told Pandora that she was in the company of Sheriff R. Ortiz

“Now, I’ll not have you ruining the seats of my car, so we’ll walk to the station. You bitches are used to showing your holes to everyone.”

The handcuffs grated against her wrists as Pandora was led through the quiet streets of Harmon to the police station. It was nearly eight in the morning, and the town was waking from a hot Texas night. So, there were only a handful of people abroad, but everyone stopped to gape at the three naked women in cuffs walking in the middle of the road. As she was paraded around the town square Pandora felt the officer’s fingers pressing against her anus, fumbling for unwelcome entry.

“Head back and tits out you fucking slut,” she whispered. “Put on a show for the good people of Harmon.” Pandora felt her thighs parting as the officer’s gloves forced their way through the muscle into Pandora’s anal passage.

“Please don’t.”

“A fuckslut like you must have had hundreds of dicks up your hole. Well, get used to it. Here in Harmon County we have a lot of fun with our prisoners, especially fat bitches like you.”

The three girls had collected an audience of the curious, the outraged and the aroused as they were marched along the dusty streets. The glass doors of the police station were already open, held by grinning officers surveying the naked flesh on display. Ortiz spoke to the men at the door.

“Take your hands off your dicks and get the cells ready for our guests. Make sure they have a proper welcome.”

Pandora was taken to the booking desk and recited her real name, her age and her California address. Ortiz signed her forms without removing her finger from Pandora’s anus, knocking her foot against Pandora’s shins to draw her thighs further apart and ease her passage. By now the digit had penetrated almost to the knuckle, and most of the small crowd gathering in the booking hall had noticed her special means of prisoner restraint.

“Get your fist in Sheriff. See if she takes it all the way to the elbow.” Laughter and then Pandora was turned around and walked through the station to the cells, staggering on her toes to ease the pain from the thrusting finger. Ortiz wriggled her finger and Pandora yelped as she tried to rise higher. Another chorus of spiteful laughter.

“She’s loving every minute of this.”

“What a whore.”

Pandora, veteran of more than three hundred porn films, had never felt so abused and humiliated as now, poked in her anus and paraded naked through the Harmon County police station. She was being led to the cells where, she knew, she would be incessantly molested and raped by the police officers who were already gathering, their ‘interest’ showing from the bulge in their uniforms, by her cell door. Sheriff Ortiz finally removed her gloved finger and thrust Pandora into the cell. The bare room contained no bed and no furniture other than a table laden with an assortment of dildos, and metal clips. Ortiz removed her gloves and stuffed them into Pandora’s mouth.

“You have the right to remain silent, and I think we’ll manage without any comment from you. I don’t want your screams to disturb decent folk. It is Sunday after all. Play nicely boys.”

Four officers entered the room, some already revealing their erect members. Ortiz watched from the door as Pandora was thrown against the table for her holes to be once more cruelly violated by frantic fingers and thumbs.

       “You only have twenty four hours before tomorrow’s trial, Miss Kinky, so try to enjoy your welcome to Harmon.”

The Foundation

2

Rough Justice

Twenty six hours and thirty rapes after they were arrested by Sheriff Ortiz in the town park Pandora Kinky, Lulu Sordid and Mandy Mounds were led into a crowded Harmon County House of Justice. News that three porn film actresses had been arrested for an orgy beneath the statue of Colonel Jack Noone, local hero of the war against Mexico, had caused interest and outrage in equal measure, so for every man eager for a sight of genuine Hollywood porn flesh there was an irate Texan, angered by the desecration of the monument to a local hero of the Lone Star state.

The three defendants were cuffed, “to prevent any outbreak of lewdness in the courtroom” and wore only a pale blue prison vest that barely covered their ample breasts and a black thong. The thongs were at least a size too small and the lining was slicing through their holes, making the girls writhe – and prove to the decent folk of Harmon that they were just shameless whores who could not even control their lustful bodies in the dignified surroundings of a law court. The entire room was seated, but there were no chairs for the defendants. Ortiz did not want ‘slut juice’ on the expensive leather seats and standing the girls presented an enticing view to the town’s folk, especially as Ortiz required her prisoners to stand with their legs splayed to present an even more demeaning and perverted sight to the Harmon public. Rosa Ortiz sat in the front row behind the defendants, admiring the six generous buttocks on display and pondering which one of these holes she would violate first after the guilty verdict.

A ten minute wait ended with the door behind the bench opening and an elegant woman in a black robe stepping onto the platform as everyone in the room rose to their feet. Judge Daphne Maxwell was the daughter of a former Washington senator, and was virtually aristocracy in such a small Texas town. So, it was no surprise when eight years after she graduated from Harvard Law School she was appointed as the county judge. It was in her second year on the bench that she first encountered Deputy Rosa Ortiz. The case was a trivial misdemeanour, but she was able to draw out the trial for three days to fully observe the young deputy. Six years later the young deputy was now Sheriff of Harmon and shared her bed. Maxwell looked at her now, her breasts erect and her tight skirt sleek against her bare backside, because Maxwell always insisted that Sheriff Rosa Ortiz appear in her court without underwear. Maxwell gave the room one long slow stare before sinking gracefully into her chair.

Pandora noticed that the judge appeared to be smiling as she stared at her knickers, but she did not see the judge’s hand creep down to her crotch to give her lips the most gentle of caresses. The ‘girls’ promised by Tar were actually not very young women, but as she gazed at their full breasts and the tight black thongs barely covering their privates, Judge Maxwell considered the potential delights ahead, and could not help stroking her vagina once more. At the back of the court room she could see Tar, the alcoholic porn merchant who had proposed the idea of bringing a handful of porn actresses to Harmon to fall foul of the authorities and earn a prison sentence. It was Rosa’s idea to acquire a trio of performers for their personal amusement, but it was Carmel De Bois, the vicious director at the prison, who developed the idea of earning money from the girls. Maxwell would allow De Bois to fund her expensive tastes in clothes and furniture from the sweat of their new slaves if she enjoyed regular access to the prisoners. She could already see that Pandora Kinky, the buxom brunette with piercing blue eyes, would be her favourite, and she could not help licking her lips.

The court official read the charges and the prisoners, head bowed, all pleaded guilty. A ten minute meeting with their defence lawyer, the indolent Jackie Mallow, convinced the girls that their only choice was to plead guilty to “vulgar and offensive nakedness in a public place” and hope that the judge would be lenient. Mallow could not promise the girls that they would not face ‘cooler time’ in the local women’s prison, but he thought that there was every chance that they could be home by Christmas.

Judge Maxwell laid down her pen and stared once more at the three defendants. She explained the severity of the charge, highlighting the special place that Colonel Noone held in the hearts of the people of Harmon to applause from the gathered citizenry. She had to issue a stern warning to outsiders and radicals whose mission was to destroy the Texan way of life. Therefore, she had no alternative but to sentence the defendants to three years.

Maxwell’s sentence brought cheers from the audience and gasps from the three women. Mandy burst into tears while the others bowed their heads once more. Mallow rose to his feet to announce an appeal, but Judge Maxwell ended the session with a sharp blow of her gavel. Hands grasped the three girls by their chains and drew them through the crowded House of Justice. Abuse, insults and derision greeted the three convicts as they were led to the open doors and another parade through the town to the police station cells where the officers would be waiting for more entertainment.

A hand reached out to slap Lulu’s bare buttocks. She shifted away and cast an angry stare at the middle aged man in a grey suit who had groped her flesh.

“You can’t make a fuss honey, you’re public meat now girl.”

Everyone in the room laughed as they filed out to follow the girls on their demeaning journey along Main Street.

“Hey Sheriff, do criminals wear panties these days?”

The sheriff halted on the steps of the House of Justice.

“Yeah, they’ve been convicted. They’re public meat now. We want to see their pussies.” A chorus of shouts rang out, calling for a degrading and shameful spectacle. Ortiz’s eyes were hidden by her glasses, but she smiled at Pandora before ripping the black thong from her thighs and tossing the garment into the howling crowd. She showed Pandora the middle finger of her gloved hand and spun her around, pressing down on the small of her back to howls of delight from the gathering crowd. Pandora braced as her anal muscles parted for Ortiz’s finger and she uttered a pathetic groan as the digit burrowed into her hole. A round of applause and cheers from the townsfolk circling the three naked women greeted the wretched sound.

“Show those bitches.”

“Yeah, rip their holes apart.”

       A thrust from Ortiz’s finger sent Pandora on her way to the police station on the other side of town. The other officers followed their sheriff’s lead and soon both Lulu and Mandy were staggering along the road, their sexual holes exposed to an eager public while their guards guided them with their middle finger. As they approached the station Ortiz pulled Pandora’s hair to whisper in her ear.

“I’ll have my arm in your pussy up to the elbow by the time I’ve finished with you. I’ll be paying you a lot of visits in prison. We’ll be very close. Here in Harmon we believe in rough justice.”

       The three girls returned for their last night in Harmon’s police station – where hours of ruthless rape and abuse awaited them in their cells. However, their treatment at the hands of the Harmon policemen would be mild compared to the fate that awaited Pandora, Lulu and Mandy once they arrived in Harmon County Prison. There they would face an endless round of torments, humiliation and vicious abuse from Carmel De Bois and her band of sadistic female guards.

The Foundation

3

The Consequence House

Mandy no longer struggled when the guards came to take her to The Consequence House, because after four months in the ‘isolation wing’ at Harmon County Prison she had learnt that any show of resistance was brutally punished, and the guards took particular pleasure in taming these “West Coast whores.”

Today three stocks stood in the middle of the room, but the head and arm restraints stood no more than three feet from the ground. They were to be bent low, their holes exposed for easy viewing and access. Pandora was placed in the centre stock, her ankles held fast by metal chains. She had become the star of their show, mainly because the Director of the prison, Carmel De Bois, gained a special delight in torturing and abusing Pandora. Mandy did not know why Pandora had been chosen, but she was grateful that she did not have to endure the special agonies Carmel reserved for her ‘favourite fucktoy.’ A hand lingered over Mandy’s exposed rump before drawing apart her buttocks to insert a broad knuckled dildo. The girls cried out as each plug penetrated their ravaged hole, and then there was silent torment for more than an hour before Mandy heard the door open.

“We’ll be having guests today, so best behaviour, or bed without supper.” Mandy shuddered to hear Clayton’s voice. The guards were all brutes, but the worst of all, worse than Director De Bois, was Clayton. Her special baton with the rhinestone coating in her hand was the most terrifying instrument on earth. Mandy had been in agony for days after just a brief pounding from ‘Bertha.’ The door opened again and the sound of footsteps echoed off the walls. The sharp click of heel on stone and the scent of Chanel told Mandy that the Director had entered the room. She could see her bright blue Dolce & Gabbana shoes as she strolled back and forth before her special prisoners.

“Now bitches, pay attention. We have another delegation and I do not need to remind you of the rules. Any deviation in the presence of a visitor will cost you … dearly.” Clayton stepped forward, patting her rhinestone baton onto her palm. “Are they ready?”

“These bitches are hot and wet Ma’am.”

       De Bois left only to return a few minutes later leading a noisy group into the room.

“Move closer ladies and gentlemen. They don’t bite.”

A small chorus of laughter as the audience drew nearer to the three naked women. A woman’s voice.

“Do you mind if I touch her?”

“Mrs Tulloh, we insist that you touch the convicts, and much more.”

Mandy felt a warm sweaty palm press against her exposed buttocks before giving her a couple of slaps.

“Very firm body.”

“Our girls like to keep in shape. They want to look their best for their fans.”

Another chuckle from the visitors.

“Now let’s put these convicts through their paces. As you can see each criminal has a plug inserted into their anus as punishment for serious offences within the prison. These three convicts are particularly disruptive, and they virtually live here in what we call The Consequence House. The …”

“Why is it called The Consequence House, Director De Bios?”

“Mrs Dervan, here these convicts experience the consequences of their misdeeds and perverted lifestyle.” A murmur of approval rippled over the group of local townfolk. 

“The plug we have inserted into these naughty young ladies has knuckles so any movement of the plug provokes a … reaction.” De Bois tugged on Pandora’s plug, prompting a pitiful gasp from the prisoner and an excitable current from her audience. De Bois leant over to whisper into Pandora’s ear.

“Do you want to show our distinguished guests your arsehole?”

“No please Mistress Director, show them Lulu’s hole. She’s a complete slut.”

“No Mistress Director please. I’ve been a good girl. Pandora’s a whore. She’s been selling her pussy and sucking dicks for years. She’s the one who should be punished.”

The prisoners, like all good porn stars, knew their roles. The visitors to the prison liked to hear the three West Coast prostitutes shamelessly beg to avoid punishment, especially as their demeaning pleas highlighted their crimes and sins. De Bois encouraged the idea that all three convicts were suffering a just retribution for a life of sin and depravity, and this degrading spectacle allowed the visitors to feel no compassion for the rape and vicious sexual abuse of these captive women.

The prisoners had to humiliate themselves to demonstrate to decent citizens that they deserve their severe treatment, and their performance began as soon as De Bois invited the female visitor to choose the first plug to be removed. The captives now called out to the woman to choose one of the other girls, promising sexual favours if they were spared the ordeal of the plug. Pandora offered cunnilingus and franticly poked out her tongue to demonstrate her artistry. No one who witnessed the prisoners writhing in their stocks and pleading not to be abused could doubt that they were in the presence of three depraved and degenerate whores. A few suggestions rang out from the other visitors before Dolores Dervan, mother of three with a grandchild on the way, chose Lulu as her victim. The guard wrenched out the glistening black plug as Lulu groaned in agony and the guard showed her visitors the breadth of the plug.

“How on earth did you get that in there?” asked one of the male visitors.

“Mr Clarke, it is surprising what you can achieve with dedication and … an enthusiastic partner.” De Bios slapped Lulu’s rump to yet another chorus of laughter.

       The anal plugs were removed from the other girls after the same pathetic and demeaning performance and then the guests, encouraged by the guards, began to explore the depths of the prisoner’s depravity with their hands and the variety of phallic items on offer for their amusement. Two of the girls were removed from the stocks to fellate their guests, and Mandy managed to wriggle free from the visitors holding her arms. Once free she acted as she had been taught, to squat in a corner and vigorously masturbate, a frenzied chafing of her vagina and anus with each hand, until the guards stung her with an electric baton and cuffed her hands to a neck brace.

Mrs Dervan, who only moments before had been sodomising Lulu Sordid with a ten inch knuckled vibrator, was appalled by “such disgraceful behaviour.”

“You have a terrible struggle ahead to bring these wanton whores back to the path of right, Director De Bois.”

“The secret, Mrs Dervan, is never to abandon hope, even if, as here, they seem to be beyond rescue.”

Carmel De Bois was delighted by the utter degradation of her prisoners. They were veteran porn actresses, but when they arrived they had been reluctant to perform many of Carmel’s favourite acts. Now, after just four months of dedication and resolve, she had trained them, physically and mentally, to execute an array of demeaning and degrading tasks. She had particularly enjoyed breaking Pandora, who was clearly the dominant figure among the three women. Carmel retired to a corner of the room to survey the orgy unfolding before her, and admired her work.

An hour later the last guest had enjoyed his final ejaculation into Pandora’s anus, and only the woman pumping the thick pink dildo into Lulu’s vagina was still eager for more entertainment. The session ended as it began, with the anal bungs. Once more the prisoners offered shameful pleas, but now it was the guests who vied for the right to invade the convicts’ anal passage with the rubber stubs. The visitors, after a modest beginning, had enjoyed themselves with the convicts. Twelve more converts to the cause of penal reform, another dozen supporters of resolute action against immorality and perversion. After the last of the plugs had been driven to the hilt into Mandy’s devastated hole the guests retired to an adjacent room for the chance to wash before joining the Director for a three course lunch in her palatial office.

       De Bois stood before her sweating and breathless artists.

“They stink. You have two hours to clean them before Judge Maxwell and Sheriff Ortiz arrive this evening. Give them some juice to keep them lively for tonight.”

The guard unfastened the stocks and tied each prisoner’s hands to their collar.

“Please Mistress,” Lulu begged. “Please take the plug out. The guests have gone. There’s no need.”

“No need? I’ve just washed my hands. I’m not getting them dirty fiddling with your shithole.”

“But please Mistress I just …”

A firm slap across the face silenced Lulu and led the other girls to sink to their knees and place their heads on the floor, as demanded whenever another prisoner was undergoing punishment.

“Sister, remember you’re just a piece of fuckmeat here in The Consequence House.”

       

The Foundation

4

Special Guest Appearance

The first sign that the day would be different to the two hundred days they had already spent in Harmon County Prison came when the three prisoners were woken an hour earlier than their usual time of seven thirty. The eastern sky was barely light when they stepped out into the courtyard to find a van parked by the gates. They sat, shivering in their chains on the cold metal seats, for nearly an hour before the van finally rolled through the gates for their first sight of the clothed and respectable world of ordinary people they had left behind when they lay on the grass before the statue seven brutal months before.

After just ten minutes the van drew to a halt outside a high wall. The prisoners were hauled from their seats and led through a doorway into a luxurious garden, brimming with fragrant flowers. At the far end of the lawn, beyond the swimming pool, stood an opulent villa decorated with Italian arches. By the pool stood a naked man, his hands bound to a collar, sporting a magnificent erection. As they drew nearer the prisoners and the guards could not avert their eyes from the enormous member extending from his groin. A blonde woman in pink shorts, a white polo shirt and sunglasses came to stand beside the naked man, taking hold of his erect organ.

“Ladies, may I introduce Ramon Hernandez, renowned porn star and, sadly for him, convicted drug mule. The girls at Houston International Customs thought it was Christmas when young Ramon dropped a package from his pants in the Arrivals hall. They had to remove all his clothing and found, well, let’s say a pleasant surprise. Did you know that they interrogated him for more than eighteen hours before reporting the find to the DEA? Not surprising when you consider that Ramon has made more than fifty porn movies, so he knows how to please a lady. The answer to your question, girls, is fourteen and a quarter inches. That’s nearly half a yard of solid entertainment.”

The blonde in the sunglasses was stroking Ramon’s huge cock throughout her speech, running her fingers back and forth along the shaft and caressing the glistening bulbous helmet. Ramon thrust his hips back and forth, sending his foreskin against the woman’s palm, but his blank expression never changed, even as she leant down to lick the broad shaft of his penis.

A man in his forties with a distinguished greying beard appeared from the house to speak in soft Hispanic tones to the woman.

“Now Sasha, I don’t think you can keep Ramon to yourself. The governor said we could only keep him for twenty four hours. I am sure these young ladies would like to become better acquainted with Ramon and his impressive equipment. But first.” He turned and spoke in Spanish to the man beside him. He nodded and led Ramon into the house.

       “Now, let’s see what Miss De Bois has brought to this party.” He beckoned the girls forward and they stood by the pool, legs apart and thrusting their hips forward in their customary ‘display’ posture. They turned around and bent over whilst he examined each anus and vagina. The blonde stood over the prisoners and prised apart their buttocks.

“There’s a lot of wear and tear, but we’ve enough foundation to hide the marks. They’ve had one rather careless owner since I last saw these pussies.”

“I’m not sure our guests have recognised you, Sasha.”

Sasha removed her sunglasses, and the three prisoners saw Jake Tar’s assistant, Sandra.

“I thought Sasha sounded more … artistic. How are you enjoying your new life in Harmon Prison? From the look of your pussies and arseholes, you’ve been busy girls.”

The guards joined the chorus of laughter from the assembled film crew.

“Blonde bitch.” Mandy looked up from the ground. “Do you know what’s going to happen to you?” She shook her head and looked down.

“No Mistress.”

“You’re going to be raped. Raped in your arse and your pussy. Time and time again. Ramon inside is getting a needle up his balls that will keep him as hard as a rock. He’ll ride you like dogs. Hour after hour. Every hole. Time and time again. Senor Ceballos’ speciality is rape movies, brutal fuck films. No plot, no dialogue, just hours of savage sex. We intend to make a lot of money today raping your cunt and your arsehole. So, let’s not waste any more time. Hector.” The girls were led away to the villa’s garage to be scrubbed clean and dressed in lingerie for the opening scene.

As Sasha promised, for the next twelve hours the prisoners were sodomised, abused, raped, stretched and pumped beneath the Texas sun. When the stench from their sweating bodies become overpowering they would be taken to the garage to be washed with hoses before returning for another session of violation, humiliation and painful sexual abuse. In the rare moments when the cameras were silent the prison guards worked Ramon’s massive rod while the prisoners’ holes entertained the film crew.

       By seven o’clock the light was fading and the director ended the session. The day concluded with a last round of coffees and sweets on the terrace for the crew while the prisoners were given biscuits and water on the lawn. Ramon had been taken inside to prepare for his performance at a local dinner party while the women lay on the grass in their chains, exhausted from twelve hours of constant sexual abuse.

The back door of the villa opened and Sheriff Ortiz stepped onto the lawn. The three prisoners shuddered at the sight of the sheriff in her shades and black leather boots.

“Have our bitches worked hard today?” she asked Sasha.

“I must say that they have been very … obliging.” Both women smiled as they looked down on the women, covered in sweat with their holes raw from a day of savage sex.

One of the guards informed Ortiz that the prison van was delayed and would not arrive for a further ten minutes.

“Well, let’s entertain ourselves while we’re waiting.”

       She grasped Pandora’s hair and led her to the low rockery wall, no more than eighteen inches high.

“Up.”

Pandora stepped gingerly onto the wall.

“Squat.”

Pandora sank down onto her haunches while Ortiz left her balancing on the wall as she rummaged among the assorted toys in the box used by the film crew. She returned with a bright green dildo, almost a foot long, with a wide base. Even the film crew, who had spent the entire day recording the degradation and mistreatment of the naked prisoners, were drawn to the spectacle of the sheriff and the naked convict as Ortiz parted Pandora’s buttocks, slid the dildo into her anus and set her down on the rockery wall, hanging a bell from her neck.

“Now, bugger yourself you fat bitch.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Tell everyone what a slut you are. Don’t stop talking until I return. Let me hear that bell.”

Sheriff Ortiz walked into the house, leaving Pandora to bounce on her buttocks as the green plastic vanished and reappeared beneath her while she breathlessly informed her audience that she was a whore who loved to taste semen, enjoyed anal rape and sodomy, could take ten inch wide plugs in either hole and had been a prostitute for more than a decade. Eventually the film crew melted away to finish packing away the camera equipment, leaving only Sasha. She invited Pandora to gasp louder, underlining her demand with a slap on the face, as she recalled their first meeting in southern Los Angeles.

Pandora Kinky arrived at Jake Tar’s office an hour late, handing over her coat without a glance and demanding a cup of coffee after “a wild night at the Passion Palace.” The coffee arrived as ‘Miss Kinky’ recounted her sexual union with one of Hollywood’s latest teen stars. She was excitedly explaining to Tar how she would be the first adult film star to cross over into the main stream when she sipped her coffee. The coffee was too hot and Pandora threw the cup to the floor, demanding that Tar’s ‘servant’ lick the spillage from the tiles. Tar was able to appease his star by taking her into the next room while Sasha found a mop. Nineteen months later Pandora Kinky was naked, in chains and riding a plastic dildo in a Texas villa while Sasha watched her degrading performance. Revenge. She borrowed an electric baton from one of the guards and touched her silicone breasts.

“Faster.”

“Yes Mistress.” The pace of the violation increased, but this did not save Pandora from another touch of the baton. She was becoming breathless as she obliged Sasha by recounting her life as a porn star.

“Long strokes. I want you to see you work that pole.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Do you like being a fucktoy?”

“Yes Mistress. I love being a fucktoy.”

“Then you’re glad about the arrangement to sell you to Judge Maxwell and the sheriff. I hear they come to the prison about twice a week to rape your holes, and you still think it was just bad luck that you were caught in the one county in Texas with a lesbian sadist as a judge and her lover as a sheriff. I know porn stars are stupid, but I never thought they were so fucking stupid.”

Pandora came to a halt, staring up at the young woman who removed her sunglasses to allow the former Miss Kinky to see her smile.

“I didn’t say stop fucking yourself.” Pandora renewed her abuse, avidly bouncing on the green plastic pole after another touch from the baton.

“Enjoying that, bitch?”

“Yes, Mistress. I love having my arse pumped, because I’m a filthy slut whore.”

“You’d better get used to this. Over the next few years your cunt will be making quite a few special guest appearances in Senor Ceballos’ films.”

The Foundation

5

Fresh Meat

A dark blue Lexus slowed to a halt by the gate and Carmel De Bois stepped out into the fading daylight to examine her suit in the reflection from the car window before walking through the small servant’s door into a beautiful garden laden with flowers. The walls were coated with vines stretching across the arch that led onto a manicured lawn bordered by red, blue and yellow blooms. De Bois noted that Senor Ceballos had excellent taste even when renting a villa for a porn shoot.

       De Bois saw one of her sex slaves, Pandora Kinky, perched on a wall and gasping for breath as she feverishly rode a bright green plug to the sound of a bell, Ortiz’s bell. She was also reciting a chant of humiliation and degradation, another signature feature of the county’s sheriff. A young blonde in smart casuals was smoking a cigarette and holding an electric baton as she stood over her breathless victim. A touch of the baton on her sweating breasts heightened the sound of buttocks pounding against brick and set the bell jingling on her chest.

“I see you are enjoying our wares. If you would like to enjoy her in more intimate surroundings …”

“No thank you, Miss De Bois. I’ve no need of these girls. Actually it gets rather boring after a while just abusing the same whores.”

“I believe you may have a point Miss …”

“Hartigan. Sasha Hartigan.” They shook hands. “We have not met, but we spoke on the telephone.”

“Of course, it was you who brought us …”

“Indeed.”

“How is Mr Tar?”

“No idea. I left that loser behind as soon as I got the money from this caper.” The two women gazed at Pandora, panting as she thrust herself onto the green shaft.

“I’ve just let Miss Kinky know that I betrayed her to you and Judge Maxwell. All of the pain, the humiliation, the torment of the past six months is due to me, yet she’s still shoving her arse onto that plastic stick and panting like a dog. Do you ever wonder what she’s thinking? How she feels about being abused like this just for our entertainment?”

“I cannot be certain, Miss Hartigan, but I suspect that she’s not very happy about squatting on that wall buggering herself while we watch. I suspect that she feels pain and degradation, a sore backside and a lack of self respect. However, what she thinks does not concern me. She serves me by getting fucked on a regular basis. My interest in her begins and ends there.”

“She’s been fucked on a very regular basis today.”

“I can tell.” De Bois waved her hand before her nose. “I must find a way to stop them reeking. After all, they’re not even wearing clothes.”

“I don’t know why I enjoy tormenting her, I just do.”

“I can see.”

De Bois looked down at Sasha’s rigid nipples rising from her blouse. The young woman was not hiding her excitement.

“You are not … aroused by these women?”

“No. I’m not a sadist and I’m not a lesbian. I’m a businesswoman, who has come to see Senor Ceballos about a … proposition.”

“I believe he has a proposal. Please come with me, I’ll show you to his office.”

They left Pandora to her anal torment and stepped into the villa to see Rosa Ortiz standing in a doorway with one of the film crew massaging her breasts as her hand strayed towards his groin.

“Good evening Senorita Ortiz. I recognised your work in the garden. Pandora is currently battering her arse while reciting her sins.”

Ortiz shot her rival a vicious glare, angered by the ethnic reference to ‘Senorita’ but fearful that De Bois had seen her erotic encounter. She stuffed her shirt into her belt and almost ran into the garden. Hartigan may have been either surprised or intrigued by the encounter, but she just smiled and led De Bois into a large room with two chairs either side of a small table. Senor Ceballos rose from one of the chairs and gestured for De Bois to join him.

“How did you find my slaves? I trust that they met your standards.”

“There’s been quite a lot of damage to both holes. You need to be more careful if you want these girls to perform in the future. There is not much of a market for battered pussies.”

“They mainly earn their keep from live shows at the prison for the local citizens. They are not a very discerning audience when it comes to naked chained women.”

“A woman’s arsehole, you’ll be surprised to hear, was not designed to accommodate six inch wide plugs. There will be muscle damage over time. How old are those women?”

“Late twenties.”

“They’ve obviously had a hard life. I’m not sure they would be getting much work in the real world. However, I have never seen such supple artists. They must be double jointed. Also, they were very responsive. We barely used those batons. My complements on your training regime.”

“It’s just a lot of hard work and stretching exercises.”

       A shadow passed the doorway and Ceballos shouted out in Spanish. Two men appeared at the door, one wearing nothing but a dressing gown. The gown was draped over his shoulders, and his hands were clearly bound behind his back. This, Carmel surmised, was the legendary Ramon. He was average height and the body beneath the gown appeared muscular and strong. He was handsome, but his blank expression made him appear dense.

       “Miss De Bois, I believe that you have not had the pleasure …”

“I have not, and I was hoping to see your prize bull.”

A nod from Ceballos and the man untied the belt and removed the gown to reveal Ramon Hernandez in all his glory. Carmel did not attempt to hide her admiration.

“Ramon, my complements on your … superb cock.”

“May I?” She asked Ceballos rather than the owner of the impressive tool.

“Miss De Bois, I insist.”

       Carmel stroked the skin, tapping her fingers against the muscle.

       “It really does feel like wood. I always thought that was just a boast, but Senor Ceballos, I am impressed that you have acquired such a splendid instrument.”

“Sadly, I only rent Ramon. The United States of America owns dear Ramon, at least for the next eleven years. I manage to procure him for my own … modest interests for two or three days each week.”

“A shame about his arrest.”

“Not really, like your girls, Ramon was betrayed by his boss. There’s no shortage of Mexican drug mules, but handsome men with fourteen inch dicks don’t grow on trees. He was sold for a tidy sum. Don’t worry. Ramon has the brains of a cow. He still hasn’t learnt English. There’s a circle of women in the wealthiest district in Dallas who meet every second Wednesday to worship Ramon’s totem pole. He’s in demand, but I am sure that I can arrange a private session, just you and Ramon.”

“That sounds very tempting.” De Bois, still holding his shaft, glanced up at Ramon and she was intrigued by his alluring smile. Carmel was not sure that he was quite so dense.

“You have only three performers, and there is only so much money you can raise from just six holes, no matter how hard you work them. Those porn stars were a good pilot scheme, but it is time to move to the next level.”

The coffee arrived and Ceballos poured both cups.

“We are alike, Miss De Bois. We are both … visionaries. I can tell because you have come today to listen to my proposition.”

       “What is your proposition?”

       “I can supply you with fresh young girls, girls you can train to become as depraved, as perverted, as shameless as your porn stars. They may be getting rough around the edges, but I was truly impressed today, and I speak as someone with more than twenty five years’ experience of buying and selling pussy. I can also introduce you to Dr Cartrwight.”

“I thought she was in jail.”

“She was given a suspended sentence. She claims to have perfected her methods and is able to offer a … relatively safe serum. Imagine the advantages. I have approached her, but I am not the only entrepreneur interested in her augmentation drug.”

“What do you get from the deal?”

“First choice of the finished product. You can’t survive just on prison visitors and sneaking girls out to a rented villa to shoot porn films. You need to get your product, your performance artists, beyond the prison walls to the rest of the state, and then the rest of the Union. Are you really planning on spending the next ten to fifteen years sticking your finger up the arses of those three whores out on the grass? You’re better than that, and you know it.”

       The last of the large steel boxes was being carried through the garage to the waiting truck as Carmel and Senor Ceballos stepped into the garden to find Pandora Kinky sucking on Ramon’s glistening foreskin as she continued to bounce on the green phallus. Ortiz was shouting at both prisoners to increase their pace as she cradled Ramon’s testicles.

       Ceballos whistled softly as Ortiz squeezed the naked man’s scrotum.

“You should be careful when playing with other people’s toys.”

“Senorita Ortiz is not proving to be a suitable business partner. For her it is all very, very personal.”

“As the local sheriff, that could pose a problem for our plans.”

“She’s just a peasant with a badge. I will deal with her when the time comes.”

Pandora Kinky was now soaked in sweat, her hair matted to her crimson cheeks. Her obscene and demeaning discourse was now no more than a breathless whisper.

“Please Mistress, I’m begging you. Please, water.”

Ortiz held out an open bottle and poured a stream just beyond Pandora’s outstretched tongue. Then she splashed water onto her face for her to lick the drops.

“Thank you Mistress, but please some more.” Ortiz laughed and drank the remains of the water bottle.

       Ceballos shook his head and offered his hand to Carmel.

“Farewell Miss De Bois and please consider my proposal. I suspect that we will talk again … soon.” Carmel would only offer him a smile. “I think you know it is time for some fresh meat.”

The Foundation

6

A New Leaf

Carmel De Bois, stunning in light blue Armani, stepped through the doors of the elegant reception lobby to greet the six visitors from Austin. After a round of handshakes and an enquiry about the journey from the capital they were on their way through the array of planted pots, coffee tables and modern art to the Director’s office for a viewing of the architect’s model of the proposed new facility. De Bois explained the purpose of the new compounds and the range of amenities to be provided in the new development. One room appeared to be a film studio.

“Will we be making filthy movies at the taxpayer’s expense?” The question came from a short middle aged woman wearing a grey business suit.

       “Senator Hodges, adult entertainment is one of the most profitable enterprises in America today. I can assure you that the Texan taxpayer will reap the rewards of producing a valuable, and harmless, source of entertainment for America’s working man. You may be able to afford many diversions, Senator, but at the end of a working day many Americans gain a few hours of simple pleasure from watching adult videos. Would you ban all adult entertainment, Senator?”

       Senator Hodges only smiled in reply as one of the two men in the delegation raised a hand.

       “I’m intrigued to know, Director De Bois, why there seem to be no male guards in the prison. As I understand the nature of your work, I thought that you would have many men literally banging down the door to work here in Harmon County Prison.”

       “We do, as you correctly surmise Mr Jerman, attract a great deal of interest from male applicants. However, I am afraid that men lack the qualities necessary to be an effective guard here. Our guards require a methodical, consistent and professional approach. Male guards would simply indulge their own sexual appetites and …”

       “Fall asleep,” called out one of the women visitors to a chorus of laughter from all the women in the room. The two men remained silent.

       “Now you’ve seen the architect’s model, read our business proposal and seen a draft of the legal provisions necessary for developing the project. However, I know that you have really come here today because you want to see the convict whores.” The two men did not even attempt to hide their excitement, but De Bois sensed that the female visitors were eager for a sight of these fabled women. She nodded to the guard at the door who disappeared into the labyrinth of passageways while De Bois followed at a sedate pace, explaining the need for a completely new installation, and how private finance could only be secured when the banks were given guarantees of legal approval for her radical proposal. They arrived at a large white door. De Bois sensed the anticipation, and she exploited the moment.

       “We have twelve prisoners, pioneers for our project. Seven girls who attempted to enter the United States from Mexico and five young ladies from New Orleans who unfortunately chose to establish a brothel on the wrong side of the county line. These prisoners have been here for the past four months, and we are proud of our accomplishment in transforming them, ladies and gentlemen, into superwhores.”

       The door opened onto a courtyard where twelve beautiful women stood, legs wide apart with their hands on their buttocks. The breasts were huge, larger than the balloons sported by most porn stars, yet the hips were slim and the tanned legs toned and supple. The prisoners were arrayed in three rows of four girls, allowing the visitors to move among them to admire their lithe bodies. No one spoke, though a few exchanged bewildered glances. De Bois could see that it was not just the men who were astonished by the sight. A guard ordered the prisoners to place their hands on their heads to display their ample backsides. None of the visitors touched the girls until De Bois encouraged the official from the Governor’s Office to feel their breasts. Once the first breast was fondled, the other visitors began to sample the flesh on offer.

       “I’ve heard the phrase sex on legs. Well these girls match that.”

       “Mr Heston, these girls don’t just look great. They will do anything for you.”

       “Anything?”

       “Anything. In fact I think it’s time we showed you what our proposed foundation has to offer the people of Texas.” She pointed at two prisoners in the front row, an auburn Mexican and one of the blonde whores from New Orleans. “You two. Sixty nine.” The girls sank to the floor and grasped each other’s hips to begin eagerly licking their shaven mounds. The visitors gathered to watch the performance, the two girls groaning and moaning as they writhed on the stone floor.

       “These girls seem to be very good friends Miss De Bois.”

“A blend of our own special potion to keep them … excited, and simple fear of Miss Clayton’s baton. Our pitiless and relentless methods ensure that these girls are trained to satisfy every desire.”

“Every desire?”

“Mr Jerman.” Carmel seized a girl in the front row, another Latina with bright blue eyes and wide hips to complement her sensational chest. “What would you like this girl to do for you?” Carmel took hold of the prisoner’s breast and began to massage the nipple. She moaned as she took her other breast to draw the nipple to her mouth. “Miss Lorent has some toys that you can play with.” He turned to see a guard standing beside him holding a box brimming with plugs, vibrators and shackles. He reached into the box for a simple purple dildo, about ten inches long. Mr Jerman lacked grand ambitions.

       “I’d like her to stick this in her hole.”

       “Which one?”

       “Her front one.”

       The girl took the purple baton and, reaching down, casually slid the object into her vagina. Silence.

“You need to let yourself be free Mr Jerman. Don’t feel embarrassed about wanting to have sex with these prisoners. They look sensational. Every man with a pulse will want to have these girls. They are, as we like to say, superwhores.”

       The guards took Mr Jerman and Mr Heston along with one of the female visitors, who treated herself to two prisoners, to private rooms while the other guests watched the remaining women perform a series of debasing and outrageous acts with one another and the guards. During the display De Bois highlighted how the guards applied meticulous techniques to degrading and abusing their captives. There was little shouting and none of the guards employed their batons. One of the visitors questioned how any human could sink to such abject depths as she watched one of the New Orleans whores, a stunning brunette with blue eyes, draw apart her buttocks and beg the guard to ravage her anus with a wooden baton as she squatted on the ground, chained to the ground by a collar.

       “Mrs Thorne, these convicts do not sink this low without our help. We force them down, way down until they reach the bottom. Even though many of these convicts were already prostitutes, it is still a complex and arduous process.”

       Three benches appeared fitted with four anal plugs of increasing size running along the beam. Three numbers were called out and three prisoners moved to the side of the yard for their hands to be cuffed. The race began with a clap of Miss Clayton’s hand, each girl groaning as they sank onto the first plug. The competitor had to strike their buttocks three times on the beam before moving onto the next, wider, plug.

       “How will they manage the last one? It’s as wide as a saucepan.”

       “It will fit. It has fitted before and it will certainly fit again.”

       One of the prisoners appeared to be stuck on the second plug. She tried to rise, but the plug was jammed inside her. The bench rose from the ground as she strained to loosen her anal passage, grimacing in pain. She began to pump her legs to shift the plug, but without success. The guards gathered around her to laugh at her predicament. She set her foot on the bench and finally managed to draw the plug from her anus. By now the other prisoners were working their way down the last plug, lifting their legs off the ground to gain additional purchase to drive the plastic wedge into themselves. The third prisoner furiously impaled herself on the penultimate shaft, but the others had sunk to the bottom of the widest post before she had even begun her descent of the last plug. The guards insisted on her completing the course before she was led away.

       “What will happen to her?”

       “Something awful. I am not sure what, but they will all dread to watch. That is for later. We employ these games, these competitions, to keep the prisoners apart. There is nothing random about these activities. We often use prisoners to abuse other prisoners to underline their degraded state. They must become animals. If our project is to succeed we have to break them, humiliate these convicts, leaving them with no sense of shame.”

“You intend to make money by selling these broken women to men for their sexual pleasure.”

       “Senator, I can assure you that we only seek to punish the guilty. All of these convicts were given a fair trial. Here at our proposed foundation we intend to employ immoral and degenerate women who are paying for their crimes to provide a service to the people of Texas and, we hope, one day to the rest of the United States. We also believe that we are helping these unfortunate girls to turn over a new leaf. Now, I suggest before we conclude our tour that we chain these whores to the walls and ram something up their arses to help them understand their new rank in American society.”

The Foundation

7

A Private Function

The van drew to a halt by the gates as the driver rolled down the window to press the green button set into the wall.

“Special delivery for Miss Kingdom.”

The doors parted and the van passed between the spacious lawns to circle the mansion. A young blonde woman in a tight white shirt and black business suit stood by an open door beside the kitchens. The driver stepped out of the van with a clipboard.

“Four performers.” He held out his paperwork for a signature.

“Let me see the merchandise first. I want to see what we’re getting for six thousand dollars.”

The back door opened to reveal four women dressed only in scanty blue vests that barely covered their nipples and tiny black thongs, the standard issue for ‘public’ appearances by Harmon County prisoners. The woman beckoned the girls to step out onto the gravel path.

“Display.”

The single word set the girls in motion, forming a row of outstretched legs with their hands set on their buttocks.

       “Ma’am. You won’t buy finer pussy than this for less than ten grand.”

       “When I need your advice, I’ll let you know. Until then …” She cast a ferocious glance at the driver that sent him back to his seat to allow Miss Rosemary Kingdom, personal secretary to Walter Hummings, to continue her examination of the ‘entertainment’ for the evening’s party.

Carmel De Bois had promised her four beauties capable of performing every degrading act imaginable. She was impressed by their physique, and their reaction to her simple command had been instant. The girls were certainly pretty, but there was no chance of testing Carmel’s claims for another four hours, after the desert of lime sorbet and wild strawberry shortcake had been served with the cognac and the mint ice cream.

A prison guard stepped out of the van.

“Angela Alimova.” They shook hands. “Miss De Bois would like to know if you wanted her to help ‘prepare’ the girls for the show. They need insertions an hour before and a drink of Kiriko half an hour before they perform. Miss Kingdom, these whores are messy bitches. I think you should let Miss De Bois give you a hand.”

       Rosemary accepted the offer.

       “Where do you want to put them until show time?”

       “Put them in the basement, by the wine cellar. Keep them out of the way. They’re already disturbing the caterers.” Both women turned to the handful of men in blue and white aprons approaching from the open doors of the kitchens. There was a whistle and a couple of shouts before Kingdom sent them back to work with a handful of sharp words and a furious glare.

       “Do they need any food or water?”        

       “They were fed before they came, but I have their rations for tonight. We give them special biscuits. Gives them lots of energy.”

       “They’ll need it. We have a hundred guests tonight.”

       “Miss Kingdom. I’ve seen these whores in action. You will not be disappointed.”

       

       Three hours later, as the second course service was drawing to a close, Carmel De Bois excused herself from her table, graciously thanking the bank governor for taking her chair as she rose, and climbed the stairs to the door marked Porter Library. Inside four women in prison issue half cut vests and tight black thongs were sitting against the far wall. They all leapt to their feet at the sight of their Director in a shimmering white cocktail dress, pearl encrusted clutch bag and white stiletto heels. Rosemary Kingdom was there along with the prison guard holding a black case.

       “Strip.” The girls removed their clothing before lying on the white towels laid out on the library floor. Each girl grasped their ankles and pulled them behind their ears before placing their hands between their legs to draw apart their holes. Kingdom turned Miss Alimova as she opened the case.

“I said you would not be disappointed.”

Carmel De Bois slipped out of her own dress before inserting a broad vibrator into both holes of each girl and setting the vibration to maximum. The prisoners remained splayed on the towels for the next thirty minutes, the machinery loosening their openings and stimulating their bodies while Guard Alimova enjoyed some fine pork sandwiches, washed down with fries and a bottle of coke. Then she sat with her magazines, the silence in the library disturbed only by the low hum of eight vibrators and the occasional quickening of breath as one of the prisoners reached yet another climax.

       Carmel De Bois returned just after the desert course to administer the dose of Kiriko. She was followed into the library by Senator Hodges and Judge Maxwell.

       “My dear they look good enough to eat. I almost wet myself last month. Daphne, you said they were sensational. You lied. They’re better than sensational.” Senator Hodges stood over one of the girls, a tall brunette with blue eyes. “Would you be so kind as to rub your tits for me, my dear.” The prisoner fondled her breasts, moaning with pleasure as she stroked her erect nipples. “I know I shouldn’t, but I just can’t help myself.” She took hold of the plugs and drew them out of the prisoner, leaving them dripping onto the towel. Hodges knelt down to massage her fingers into both holes. “Is she still rubbing her tits?” she asked Daphne. The motion of her hand became more intense and the prisoner gasped with pleasure. “I’m sorry Carmel, but I’ll explode if I don’t get one of these hot bitches to lick me out.”

       “Judy, after your performance last week, you could have all four.”

“I was very good. The sceptic converted after the visit, convinced by your erudite comments. I knew it was best to bring the women. Jerman and Heston only came for a free fuck. It’s the women you need to convince, and respectable women, decent mothers who take their kids to church on a Sunday, loath whores, or anyone with big tits and a nice arse. It’s just jealousy.” Hodges took hold of a seat and unbuttoned her dress.

“When will we know, about the Bill?” Daphne, aroused by the Senator’s exploration of the lithe brunette, crouched to stroke the radiant inner thigh of the petite Latina with muscular thighs and powerful arms. She liked girls with toned flesh and part of Rosa’s appeal was her firm, athletic body. The sight and sound of Rosa lifting weights before she left for work was one of her favourite pleasures. 

       “The measure goes to the House on Tuesday. So, tonight will make a big difference. I saw at least a dozen votes out there this evening. Sit up and kneel. I have spoken to the Governor’s Office. He’s neutral. I think his wife is some sort of religious nut. Do you have a hanger?” Hodges stepped out of her ruby red gown as Kingdom stepped forward and slipped the straps onto her arm. Hodges drew down her knickers to her ankles as the convict licked the moist coating on the Senator’s pubic hair. The prisoner moved closer and begun to explore the lips, seeking out the clitoris. “The Governor will sign the measure if we get a decent majority. I am sure we can get it through the House and once … she is so fucking good! Once we have a good House vote, the Senate are just a bunch of randy old men. You will get your foundation. Carmel, did you get the money?”

       “I’m meeting the governors of Lone Star Incorporated next Thursday. I’ve just been chatting to the President, and he seems keen.”

       “Rod Nell is keen to get into your knickers. I will … oh my, here we go.”

Hodges rose to her feet, pressing the face of the prisoner to her genitals. She spread her legs and then leant back, uttering a faint moan as she shuddered through an orgasm. She released the girl’s head. “Thank you my dear. You have been very generous with your tongue tonight.” She exhaled and sat down. “Someone fetch me another towel.”

       Miss Alimova explained the contents of the case to Rosemary.

       “Clean them with this. It’s a special soap you can use without water. It has a powerful scent because they will stink after a while. Use these brushes. Stick them up, not too hard please, and give me a good scrub. Both holes. The costumes are here. There’s about a dozen, each in a separate bag. You can mix them up if you like.”

“Like dressing up your own dolls.” Both women smiled.

“You can keep the clothes. They’ll probably get ripped during the evening. You can even put the girls in different outfits when they come back for cleaning. The guests may think there are more than four girls. The clothes are yours, but could we please have the shackles and cuffs back. They’re quite expensive. Don’t forget to put the key chain around their neck. The bondage is only for effect. The girls will do anything without the need for force. Slaps, but no beating or whipping. Please don’t let them get damaged. We’ve spent a lot of time getting them ready for tonight.”

       Carmel went to each girl to dispense a flask of clear liquid.

“We call it Kiriko,” she explained to Kingdom as she returned the Senator’s dress. “It is the most powerful aphrodisiac in the world, a chemical compound that leaves all women almost frantic for sex. Sadly, Kiriko damages the lining of the brain, leading to profound damage within a few years.”

       “A small price to pay for a great fuck.” Hodges stroked the hair of her whore.

“Could they have a double dose?” Kingdom asked. “There are only four of them, and we have nearly a hundred guests. Most of our guests are old, but you never know. I need tonight to go well.”

       “Miss Kingdom, I can assure you that I share your interest in the success of tonight’s entertainment. I’ve already given them a triple dose.”

The Foundation

8

A Palpable Hit

The lighting faded as a spotlight appeared at the far end of the room. Rosemary Kingdom stepped into the glare.

“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of Mr and Mrs Hummings and Hummings Enterprises, I hope that you are enjoying your evening here with us in Highview Mansion. We would like to end the formal part of the evening with a display from a troupe of special guests from Harmon County Prison.” A murmur as loud as a car engine whirled around the room as the spotlight vanished. A figure moved in the darkness towards the centre of the room, and even in the faint light her profile attracted animated whispers. When the spotlight hit the first performer, wearing only black stockings and high heels, she froze in the ‘display’ stance, though with her hands secured by chains at the wrist and elbow. The gasp from the audience was heard by the drivers waiting in the driveway.

       Most of the men in the room rose to their feet for a closer study of the woman who, though chained and virtually naked, exuded an air of sexual power and poise as she swayed her hips to the rhythm of the music with slow liquid movements sprinkled with the occasional thrust of her hips. There were a few shouts, but most of the audience watched in silence as the performer was joined by two companions, a blonde prisoner wearing thigh length white boots and a simple pair of cuffs and a third completely naked woman who took advantage of her free hands by stroking her vagina to the rhythm of the music. She exchanged a passionate kiss with the first woman before sinking to her knees to grasp her partner’s hips and lick her vagina as the bound captive flayed her hair in a display of sexual excitement. The fourth convict circled the tables in heels and black gloves, allowing hands to explore her moist cleft as she massaged her massive breasts.

       All four girls were soon among the guests at the tables and before long tabletops were cleared of crockery and chairs moved aside to enable the performers to demonstrate the sexual artistry that Carmel De Bois hoped would guarantee a successful passage for the new Special Status Bill. The low pulse of the music soon mingled with groans and moans as the four visitors from Harmon County Prison showed everyone in the room how they had earned the term of superwhores.

Half an hour into the ‘performance’ Daphne Maxwell joined Carmel and Rosemary to witness the scene from the stairs. The room was now complete dark, so they could only hear events unfold on the tables. There were gasps of amazement and an occasional outraged laugh as the guests admired the agility, energy and depravity of their entertainers.

“I hope the girls will last the course.”

“Miss Kingdom,” Daphne replied. “I would worry about your guests.”

Carmel’s handbag was soon brimming with napkins and slips of paper containing the email addresses or telephone numbers of distinguished diners eager to book the Harmon Prison girls for a party or a private show, but she knew without question that the performance had been a success when, shortly after one in the morning, Mr Hummings himself walked her to the front door and insisted upon his personal chauffer driving her home.

The dawn light was seeping through the drawn curtains when Rosemary Kingdom finally sat down by the ornate staircase leading up to the bedrooms. A young woman appeared at the top of the stairs, holding one of the performers by the arm, the tall brunette with slim legs who had been the first performer.

“We’ve finished with this one. What do we do with her?”

“Miss, that’s fine. Leave her here with me.”

The naked girl walked down the stairs to stand before Rosemary.

       The command was no more than a whisper, but the girl drew her legs wide apart and set her hands on her buttocks, though Rosemary thought her slow to react and there appeared to be a proud stare into the distance. Rosemary, in her sweaty white shirt and smeared black skirt, was tired after a demanding and filthy evening that had stretched from dusk to dawn and had required her to clean the whores. She had spent nearly four hours scrubbing their genitals and their arseholes before sending them out again to entertain the guests loitering at the door, eager to take possession of the women. Sometimes they would change their clothing, only for them to come back missing or torn within a few hours. It was a dirty business and, even using gloves, Rosemary found scraping semen from these women a degrading act. The whores seemed to be unashamed, holding their ankles and grunting to the beat of the brushes disappearing into their holes while the young ‘trophy wives’ at the door giggled at their embarrassment. The guard Alimova told her that months of training had prepared these ‘superwhores’ for every disgrace, for every form of sexual humiliation. They were simply shameless.

The whores were prepared for this disgrace, and probably deserved their miserable fate, but Rosemary did not expect to be washing out whores’ cunts when she applied for the job of personal secretary to the most influential industrialist in Houston. She had not seen Mr Hummings since the convicts’ performance, so she did not know his opinion of either the prison whores or her management of the entire event. Now, sitting at the table as she rested her tired body, she decided that the naked girl standing before her, legs splayed while she caressed her firm buttocks, was insulting her with an insolent look.

“Lower,” she muttered and the girl shuffled her feet to widen her gait. Her damp vagina now hung no more than two feet above the carpet, but the pose only highlighted the girl’s physical prowess and her demeaning allure.

“You think you’re so great, with your massive tits and your big arse.” The girl did not answer. “Well?” Rosemary came to stand over the whore. “Well, are you a superwhore? Do you think you’re better than everyone else? Better than me?”

“I am a filthy slut who deserves to be punished.” The words were demeaning, but Rosemary was convinced that the convict slut, hired for the evening to entertain Mr Hummings’ guests, was ridiculing her. She slapped her across the face and then slapped her again before walking away to the mansion’s open front door.

A handful of limousines remained by the trees, awaiting a call from the butler to take their employers home. Mr Elroy Simpson, state senator and renowned bon vivant, stood by the open door, enjoying a cigar.

“Congratulations Miss Kingdom. A fine show.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I know so. I heard Jack before he retired speaking with Mr and Mrs Kenton. They said it was the best party in years, and they were particularly impressed by what Mrs Kenton, rather endearingly, called ‘the dancing girls.” Jack said that he would arrange another ‘dance’ very soon.”

“I thought they might be a bit too much.”

“Miss Kingdom. I am fifty two years old and have, I am proud to state, led a ‘full’ life. However, I have never seen anything to compare with those whores. They were stunning, but they were also … relentless. Well done, Miss Kingdom, well done. You have a hit, a most palpable hit.”

He accepted her offer of coffee before leaving for home.

“Your ‘dancer’ appears to be attracting the interest of your cleaning staff.”

The girl remained where Rosemary had left her, but a handful of maids had gathered at the foot of the stairs, chattering in Spanish as they examined the superwhore.

“My political inclinations drift towards the right these days, but my dear old granddaddy was a bit of a radical during the New Deal. If he was here today, Miss Kingdom, I am sure that he would feel that this American working woman here had earned the right to stick that duster handle up that young lady’s rear end.”

“Senator Simpson, I believe that the time has come to share our wealth.” She turned to the senior maid. “Elsa, why don’t you have some fun with this convict whore and your feather duster.”

Elsa looked confused until Senator Simpson recited Rosemary’s message in Spanish. The group of cleaners all laughed as one of the women reached into her cart and brought out a wooden dustpan brush, unscrewed the head and brandished a thick stick about a foot long.

“Even better,” Simpson muttered. He leant forward to speak to the whore, who continued to stare straight ahead as if this conversation did not concern her. “Missy, it’s time to expect a surprise visitor.”

Elsa set the end of the handle against the girl’s anus and pushed. No progress.

Rosemary leant down and placed a thumb on her chin. She stared deep into the whore’s blue eyes.

“Bitch, open your hole or I will open it for you.” A moment after Rosemary’s warning Elsa’s efforts were rewarded as the wood sank into the prisoner. “I think Elsa and her friends need to know how much you enjoy having a wooden pole rammed up your arse.”

“Yes Mistress. Please bugger my holes. I want a huge cock in my cunt. I’m just a whore. Shove that right up my hole. I want …”

“I think its time for some coffee. Cream and sugar, Senator?”

Rosemary walked to the kitchen to the sound of the girl pleading with Elsa to push harder or find a wider stick, pleased that her ‘dancing girls’ had proved to be, in the words of Senator Simpson, a palpable hit.

The Foundation

9

The Presentation

Peter Hendon sat at his desk in the basement car park, leafing through a porn magazine left for him by the night guard. It was usually the quietest time of the day just after lunch, so he expected to enjoy two blondes caressing one another’s mounds in a barn. However, Hendon’s studies were disturbed by a van rolling through the gloom and drawing to a halt by his hut. He slipped the magazine into his drawer as a woman wearing a dark blue uniform stepped out of the van. Hendon’s cock was pressing against his flies, so he decided to remain behind his desk, but he only stayed until four young women, all with huge breasts covered only by a tight vest and wearing just a tight black thong, climbed out of the back of the van. The prison officer could not avoid a smile as the car park attendant almost ran out to greet the visitors.

“Pamela Clayton, Harmon County Prison. Here for the three thirty presentation.”

“Harmon County. My cousin told me about these girls. A special kind of whore, he said. Never seen or felt anything quite like it.”

“Well, don’t just take your cousin’s word.”

“You mean …”

The officer called out a word over her shoulder and all four spread their legs apart and three of the women placed their hands on their buttocks. Hendon noticed that the fourth prisoner, with especially large breasts, was chained at the elbow and the wrist as well as wearing a gag.

“I’m afraid there’s no time for a full road test, but let your hands wander. These prisoners are bondage whores, trained for all forms of sexual service. They’re here to be used and abused.” While the other prison officer parked the van Hendon enjoyed probing the girls, sliding a hand beneath their thongs and managing to insert a finger into the anus of the bound girl. She moaned slightly, but offered no resistance to her violation.

“I wish I had enough money to afford these whores.”

“If we get the funding from your bosses today, they’ll be girls like this in every strip club in Texas in five years.”

“Well, good luck to you, and save one for me.”

The four convict whores were taken to the fifteenth floor. Kala, the Bulgarian prostitute sold by her aunt in exchange for student visas for her daughters, set her feet against the glass walls of the elevator and placed her hands on her vibrant hips as the elevator filled with bemused, but thrilled, office workers. On the tenth floor a couple stepped into the elevator, the man offering Kala a furtive grin while the woman cast an angry stare at the whore in a black thong thrusting her pussy at her man. When Kala grasped her breasts and rolled her tongue across her teeth the woman leant across to slap her on the face.

“Don’t you look at my boyfriend you cheap slut. I know who you are, you fucking criminal.” She turned to Clayton. “Keep your whores under control.”

Clayton glared at Kala as she charged her baton.

“No please Mistress. I promise …”

“You fucking cunt. Don’t ever embarrass me again. I’ll rip you a second arsehole. Hands on head.”

Kala laid both hands on her head, tears welling in her eyes as she waited for the green light on the baton that would tell Clayton her weapon was ready to torture her prisoner.

“Please Mistress, I’m a worthless slut. I’m begging you.”

One, twice, three times, Clayton touched the Bulgarian whore with the baton on each breast and then, drawing a wretched yowl, between her legs.

“Count them.”

“Please Mistress.”

“Count them you fucking piece of whoremeat.” Clayton touched her on each thigh and then under the arms.

“Four, five, six, seven, please no more. I’m begging you.”

The girlfriend moved closer for a view of Kala’s torment, slapping her twice across the face.

“That’ll teach you to wave your fat pussy at my boyfriend.” Clayton was about to strike when she decided to offer the offended girlfriend her baton. The young woman smiled as she waved the electric prod in front of the whore’s face.

“Not so sexy now, you fat cunt.”

“Margaret. This is our floor.” The boyfriend was eager to be gone, but she told him to hold the lift. After enjoying listening to the whore begging not to be punished she ended as Clayton began, with a touch on each breast and then the tight black fabric of her damp thong.

“Please Mistress, I’m begging, you no more. I’m a cheap slut and a whore who deserves to be punished.”

“It would be a hundred if I had more time. Remember what you are, bitch slave.” She left her with one last spiteful burst against her vagina.

Three floors later the girls were marched through the sumptuous offices of the Board to a deafening silence. The men gawped, but most of the women glared at the shameless whores parading through their workplace. The prisoners were led to a small office to lie naked on their towels. There was not enough room on the floor, so they lay on the table, their ankles behind their ears. Ten minutes later all four girls were groaning through their orgasms to the drone of eight vibrators pulsing inside their holes. 

Carmel arrived an hour later, just before her presentation to the Board. She was pleased with the preparation for the girls, but ordered another dose of Kiriko for the bound and mute prisoner.

“I want her soaking wet for her special appearance.”

Carmel left to check her powerpoint displays and the prisoners lay on their towels for another hour. Clayton and her companion, Jolene Parker, passed their time in idle gossip, chatting on their mobiles and, when finally overcome by boredom, by abusing the prisoners with their batons. Eventually Clayton’s mobile rang with a message from the Director.

“Five minutes. Now up you three.” Clayton pondered for a moment before placing Kala in a neck and wrist restraint. The blonde, Jemma, wore a waist restraint with her hands shackled to her sides and the third girl, one of the Mexicans whose name Clayton could not remember, was mounted on the upside down Y device, known as the ‘welcome wagon’ by the guards. Clayton inserted two anal handles, used to debase prisoners by forcing them to shuffle on their toes, and then they were ready for their performance.

“I’ll be back for you later,” she told the gagged and bound prisoner as the three girls were led out into the corridor to meet Lone Star Incorporated Bank’s Board of Governors.

The news about the special presentation and the visit from the prison’s convict whores had spread from the President’s Personal Secretary to the rest of the senior office staff within minutes, so the area around the Board Room was crowded with men pretending to be busy. All stopped their pretence when the three whores, bound and naked, were led across the office with only the sound of a distant phone disturbing the silence as they moved towards the oak doors. Clayton enjoyed her display of power, thrusting the handles into his victims to provoke a pitiable wail as they waited by the door. She listened to the Director’s speech until, as the men drew near to the whores like hesitant deer approaching a watering hole, Carmel De Bois’ heels rang out on the tiles. The door opened and Carmel beckoned Clayton into the room. The girl on the ‘welcome wagon’ was rolled to the far end of the room while the other two, Kala and Jemma, stood, legs splayed, either side of their Director. As she spoke they were thrusting their naked flesh at the Board members, Kala even managing to rub her crotch against one of the chairs.

“I mentioned the need for increased production, and I thought it would be appropriate for you to … taste our wares. Some of you have already seen our convict whores in action, but I thought no one would object to a second look. So, ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy.”

Within five minutes all three girls were enduring the most profane violations. Kala was on her hands and knees on the Board table, a man’s fist disappearing into her anus. She was grunting, whispering in a foreign language, as she pushed back against the hand.

       “She’s fucking herself in the arse. This is amazing.”

“Mind your watch, Tony. That’s a Rolex.”

“Where did they find these girls?”

       “Who cares, so long as we know where they’re going.”

The President of the Board, Rod Nell, left the blonde girl by the window to be violated with a knuckled dildo and one of the senior official’s fist to join Carmel by the door.

“I was impressed by your presentation, and very impressed by these … performers. You were right when you claimed that they will endure anything. Where do you find girls who are willing to allow themselves to be treated in this way?” They both watched Kala’s frantic pelvic thrusts as she writhed in her chains in a pathetic attempt to avoid further reprisals from Clayton’s baton. She clambered down from the table and set her foot on one of the chair arms to allow a blonde woman in a light blue business suit to insert a huge vibrator into her gaping anus.

“Fuck me, fuck me hard,” she moaned as the plastic tube disappeared up to the hilt. The woman took a firm grip of the handle and thrust deep into the whore. She gasped a word in Bulgarian and then repeated her message on hard fucking while the wide rod ruthlessly pounded her anus. Another chair was brought and Kala balanced both feet on chair arms while only her chin rested on the table.  Now her anus and vagina were both exposed for a brutal double penetration and the blonde woman took full advantage. In answer to her abuser, Kala told her audience that she loved being raped in both holes.

“Mr Nell, these convicts are mostly prostitutes and drug dealers. They have low moral standards before they even enter our facility. Yet, to train them to perform virtually every imaginable sexual act, and to do so for hours, takes a great deal of dedication. We are lucky to have experts in amending character and lowering willpower. Miss Clayton, Pamela, has developed a range of activities that demean, humiliate and fracture these young women. However, to change a powerful, educated and ambitious woman into a bondage whore, that would be quite an achievement. We believe, Mr Nell, that we have accomplished such a feat. I think it’s time for our finale.” She turned to her chief guard. “Pamela. Please bring our surprise guest.”

The Foundation

10

The Degradation of Busty Nightly

Pamela Clayton stood over the bound prisoner lying sprawled on the table as the vibrators induced another orgasm that set her legs quivering and sent a trail of fluid onto the towel.

“Now, my dear Busty, you’re ready for your performance. I can’t wait for everyone to see your new tits and your enormous pussy shackled in chains. I will enjoy watching you cry as you’re being tortured and degraded. It’s time for you to learn your place.” Pamela rolled her baton along the woman’s thighs and pressed the switch to send a charge through her soaking vagina. The girl howled through her gag and once more tears rolled down her face.

“You think because you once had a big office, a fancy car and a smart suit that you’re not like these whores. Well, today you’ll learn that you’re just a degraded and shameless slut like all the others. Your arse and your pussy belong to me, and I can do what I want with you.” Another dose from the baton, and another muted scream. “This is the price for stealing from your bank and thinking that you could frame someone else. Did you know that Miss Kipowski will be joining us for your performance? I’m sure you will have a lot to discuss.” Pamela giggled at the prisoner’s terrified stare. She tried to speak, but Pamela silenced her with a touch of her baton that provoked another trickle of tears.

Pamela drew away the cloth to reveal the device that would display her to the Board, two vertical planks drawing together to form a V shape attached to a stand. She dragged the prisoner to her feet and fixed the shackles to her hands. Then, Pamela tilted the board to lay horizontal and Busty arched her back, her legs dangling over the edge of the wood. Pamela grasped a foot and attached the ankle to the bar over her head. Busty screamed as she realised how she was to be displayed with her vagina and her anus exposed to her former colleagues as the highlight of the prisoners’ performance.

Pamela’s mobile tinkled into life.

“Fine. Yes, Director, we’re on our way.” Pamela could not resist a smile as her victim twisted in the clasps holding her ankles and her wrists.

“Now, are you ready for your grand entrance? I’m sure everyone will enjoy a view of your ravaged pussy and your huge breasts.” She tapped the tender lips with her baton. “That’s a whore’s pussy, red and worn. We made your jugs so big to make you look ridiculous, like a common whore.” Pamela smiled again. “This is your worst nightmare, but if you misbehave today, I’ll make your life a living hell.” She touched her once more with the baton, letting the metal stroke the exposed vagina. “The humiliation must be almost killing you. That is why today is such an education. After today you will know you are nothing but a sex slave, a slut fit only for torture and abuse. Busty, it’s time for your grand entrance.”

       Pamela pushed the bondage device into the corridor, to find the hallway teeming with male office workers anxious for a glance at the special whores from the Harmon County Prison, a myth that was already raging through the bars and clubs of Texan high society and business circles.

       “Gentlemen, if you please. Miss Northampton wishes to see the Board.”

The door opened and Barbara Northampton was brought into the Board Room to a blend of gasps and laughter from her former colleagues.

Carmel joined Pamela by the door with her new guest.

“Ladies and gentlemen. I’m sure you heard that one of your former employees, Miss Barbara Northampton, was sent to Harmon County Prison just four months ago. Well, I’m delighted to show you what we can achieve within such a short time. This is her debut, and I’ve chosen a new name for her, Busty Nightly.”

Barbara, now to be known as Busty, was rolled into the middle of the room. Her huge breasts glowed from the sweat and the Kiriko left her vagina lips glistening under the lights. The tears cascaded down her cheeks, but she knew that, after attempting to frame her secretary for the theft, she would find no sympathy in this room. She closed her eyes, but there was no escaping the sound of familiar voices, some taunting and some disgusted by the sight before them.

“How can she appear like that?”

“What has she done to her body? She’s a complete slut now.”

“I’d rather die than let myself be displayed like that.”

“Surprising really. She was such a stuck up bitch. When she had clothes.”

“No more designer outfits for her.”

“Thought she was above us all.”

“Look at that pussy. She must have been taking huge plugs for months. Looks painful.”

“I hope so. Look. She’s soaking wet. What a fucking whore.”

Carmel stood beside her latest masterpiece, massaging her breasts and stroking the inside of her thighs to show that she was helpless slave, exposed to any humiliation. She was soon joined by Busty’s intended victim. 

“Miss Kipowski, you must be pleased to meet your former boss once again.”

“There were times when I was in jail that I wished she was dead. Now, seeing her here like this.” She touched Busty’s breasts and ran her fingers along the inside of her thigh towards her raw vagina lips. “I think this is even worse.”

She stared at her enemy as she pinched her nipples, savouring the blend of shame, pain, misery and despair in her eyes.

“Rather you than me, bitch.”

“This device, which we call ‘the board’ …”

“An interesting coincidence.”

“Indeed. This device has another special feature that I’m not sure even Busty knows about. I think it’s best if we lay our guest on her back.”

Busty was laid horizontal and Carmel screwed a spike into the back of the board which, when she turned a handle, began to press against the prisoner’s neck, forcing her forward. Her gagged mouth was now no more than six inches from her vagina. Another handle brought forth a second spike to press the buttocks upwards, bring mouth and vagina together.

“No way.” Mary Kipowski did not believe that Carmel could force her victim to lick her own cunt.

“She will. Trust me. It’s just a question of applying pressure at the right point.” Another turn of the handle and Busty Nightly moved another inch closer to her own lips, the prisoner releasing a muffled squeal from the pain. Carmel tightened her grip and turned the handle once more.

“It’s hard work, but we’ll get there in the end. This is when Busty’s exercise classes and stretching routines really pay off.”

“Allow me,” offered one of the men. “Good afternoon, Miss Northampton. I know you always insisted upon being called Miss Northampton rather than Barbara by junior staff menials like me. How are you today?” Another few turns of the handle brought her almost within touching distance of her moist lips.

“Come here,” one of the women shouted to the rest of the room as the prisoner’s gag was removed. “She’s about to lick her own pussy.” Everyone in the room gathered to watch the former pompous financier engage in this most degrading and sordid act.

“No please, stop. I’m sorry. Please, I’m begging you, don’t make me. I …”

Carmel touched the prisoner with a baton for silence and asked the man for another turn of the screw so that Barbara Northampton, former executive financial director of Lone Star Incorporated Bank, could lap at her own vagina lips like a cat drinking a bowl of milk. The flash of cameras and an array of mobile phones recorded the moment. Carmel stood over the former banker.

“Busty Nightly. Welcome to the world of the bondage whore.”

Over the next thirty minutes Busty Nightly was subject to vicious abuse, the batteries in Pamela Clayton’s baton almost drained by the blows inflicted on the helpless convict whore. The highlight of the degradation came when Mary Kipowski coyly slipped out of her skirt and donned a strap on thong. Pamela showed the audience and her victim a wide vibrator to cheers from the office workers. Then she held aloft a wider plug to louder cheers and finally a six inch wide knuckled dildo to a roar of approval. Busty’s terrified gaze as she was shown the cruel appliance brought forth a bout of laughter from the women.

“We call it the Cuntbreaker,” Pamela told her audience. “Let’s see if Busty can take the pain.”

The room fell silent as Kipowski placed the tip of the monstrous tool against the ransacked anus.

“This is for your three hour lunches and making me work on Saturdays.” The knuckles sank into the hole. Even with the gag, Busty’s scream filled the room.

“This is for all those snide comments about my clothes and sending me shopping in my lunch hour.” Another thrust and another scream.

“And this is for eight two days in prison.” Kipowski began to thrust her weapon into the anus of her former boss, sending muffled shrieks bouncing off the walls. Busty leant forward, resting her head on the Board table, but Kipowski seized her hair and drew her up to allow everyone to enjoy a view of the former director of finance as she endured a vicious anal rape from her former assistant.

The session ended with the other girls retiring to private offices while Busty was forced to run a circuit of the main office bound and gagged, suffering slaps on the face, breasts and buttocks from the secretaries as she passed them on her mortifying tour.

Carmel was joined at the door of the Board Room by Mr Nell to watch the degrading display.

“I believe Mary wishes her to run eighty two times around the office. One for every day she spent in jail. Can we keep Barbara, I mean Busty? It would boost office morale to have a sex slave we can torture, especially such an unpopular colleague as Miss Northampton.”

“Eventually, Mr Nell. Her training is not complete, as you can see from the tears and the gag. She has not fully accepted her new role, unlike Kala and Jemma. However, once she has been fully conditioned we can arrange a permanent posting for Busty. I am sure Miss Kipowski and her colleagues will enjoy letting off steam after a long, hard day at the office by raping and torturing Busty’s holes.”

“I believe you convinced the Board that the Foundation will be a sound investment. Your presentation was very persuasive.”

“Thank you, Mr Nell. I believe that we can transform the adult entertainment and escort industry in this country, and make everyone at Lone Star Incorporated a lot of money.”

“Excellent. A high return for our investors is our main priority, but combining that with some hardcore bondage sex is a pleasant bonus.”

The Foundation

11

Wednesday Afternoon Tea

Less than a week after the Lone Star Incorporated Bank approved a $6 million loan to The Foundation, Carmel and Hector lunched at the Grand Hotel to discuss the details of the first three ‘adult entertainment venues’ to be opened in Austin, Houston and Dallas. The meal of turtle soup, roast duck and peach trifle was delicious, but Hector glanced at his watch and passed up the chance for a brandy.

“I have to entertain some very respectable ladies on the seventh floor. Well, not me. One of my male acts, Ramon, is … performing. Do you remember him?”

“Ramon?” Carmel was careful not to look up from her plate, but she could not avoid raising her voice as she asked the question. “Yes, I think I do recall him.”

Carmel had diligently collected titles from Ramon’s video portfolio for the past four months. The quality of the camerawork was appalling, the dialogue, even in Spanish, was stilted, but Carmel could not avoid sitting by her computer every night to watch him mount a succession of Latina girls after they fellated his magnificent erection. She also gathered 117 pictures of Ramon, meticulously arranging them in order of preference. Carmel was captivated, but she also knew that a senior executive did not pursue a porn star, especially a convicted drug dealer who also served as prostitute. So, her nights spent gazing at the computer screen with her knickers around her ankles would remain no more than her dirty little secret.

“I’m on my way for the conclusion of his performance. Would you like to see him in action? I have yet to meet a woman who has not enjoyed ‘Wednesday Afternoon Tea’ with Ramon.” Carmel pretended to check her watch and ponder her options. “It will be over soon. The matrons of Houston should be watching Betty licking the whipped cream from his weapon by now.”

“Well, I’m not due back until two thirty, and he does have a magnificent cock.”

       As Carmel and Hector walked into the hotel suite Ramon was standing before an audience of about two dozen women, wearing only cuffs at the wrists. He was, naturally, fully erect, his member glistening in the pale afternoon sun. Carmel noticed a prison guard by the window, nursing his shotgun.

“Unloaded,” Hector said. “He’s actually off duty. The guns, the guard and the shackles increase the allure for our respectable ladies.”

“I thought a handsome man with a fourteen inch dick would be alluring enough.”

“True, but Ramon must play his part. You find him handsome?”

“Well … I think most women would say that … well, he is good looking.”

       A woman dressed in black stockings, red corset and long black gloves, the standard whore uniform, began massaging Ramon’s member, running her hands back and forth along the shaft. She placed his cock in her mouth and thrust the head against the inside of her cheek, pretending to chock on his erection. The whore then offered Ramon to a woman in the front row. He thrust his foreskin against her dank hands, causing her to yelp when she touched his flesh. The other women in the front row were less wary, giggling to their neighbours as they fingered his foreskin with one even stealing a fleeting lick of the tip.

After the audience participation, the whore cupped her breasts in her hands as he shoved his member into her cleavage, tapping her face as she opened her mouth to fellate him with each thrust. Throughout the clumsy massage from the ladies and the fellatio Ramon’s face remained blank, oblivious to the passion aroused by his outstanding organ. Carmel knew that few men would choose to stand naked in chains before a group of women being milked by a whore. She sensed his shame and his resignation as he gazed at the far wall and she was about to leave, reluctant to witness his degradation, when he noticed Carmel by the door. She was flustered by his intense stare, aware that she was responsible for the day toiling in the villa garden beneath the bitter sun with those three whores. She suspected, having watched all six hours of film from that day, the film crew must have abused him into submission to gain such debasing and exhausting footage. 

The whore noticed Hector by the door, and once he tapped his watch she briskly ended the routine with her breasts and bent over to stow Ramon into her vagina. For the next five minutes Ramon thrust his pelvis against the whore’s buttocks, the sound of slapping flesh ringing out around the room. Ramon continued to stare over the audience towards Carmel, yet she was no longer unsettled by his look, because she was certain there was the trace of a smile. After five minutes of fervent thrusting the whore shoved Ramon into her anus. Hector tapped his watch once more and the whore’s gasps became even louder until, amidst a spate of excitable shouts, she appeared to achieve yet another orgasm.

       “The performance has reached its climax,” Hector told his business partner. “Betty will collect her sachet and, like a magician’s assistant, ensure that Ramon experiences the most stupendous orgasm, though he’ll be ejaculating a mixture of glue, cornflour and salt. Watch Betty. There, it’s in her right hand now, and so she begins to massage the head and within the next three seconds.” Ramon fabricated an unconvincing pant, looking up to the ceiling to highlight his sexual ecstasy. “There we go. Mission accomplished.” A surge of seed appeared to burst forth from Ramon’s foreskin as he grunted with pleasure. A gasp from the audience and then a polite round of applause mixed with a few giggles.

       Betty used her left hand to stroke his foreskin and Ramon enjoyed a second explosion, sending even more seed cascading down his magnificent tool. Then he stood, semen dripping onto the floor, as the cameras and the phones captured every degrading moment. Betty drew Ramon’s legs further apart to allow the audience to view the tip of his cock covered in fake semen. The paste rolled down the shaft and one woman was particularly keen for a close up of the seed rolling down onto his testicles before dripping onto the ground.

       The guard, familiar with the routine, joined Ramon’s elbows with a metal rod and then fitted a neck brace, attaching the collar to the elbow bar, before he was hauled to the door on a lead held by Betty. It was a demeaning and inelegant departure as Betty, tugging on the metal chain, forced him to bow to his audience, who responded with a last round of gentle applause. A minute later the audience dispersed, some of the ladies picking at the remains of buffet selection on the table as they left.

“Would you like to have a closer look at Ramon before his next session?”

“I thought he was going back to prison?”

“We say that to get him away from these women. He has three sessions every Wednesday afternoon. One, two and three o’clock. The next one’s in just ten minutes on the eleventh floor. It’s hard work in every sense, but we have our own special brew to keep Ramon standing proud for the next four hours.”

Ramon stood by the fireplace as Betty stood over the washbasin, scrubbing her gloves.

“The paste leaves a stain if you don’t wash it straight out,” she explained to Carmel as she stepped through the door.

“Please mistress. It dries. Hurts.” Ramon thrust his erect penis towards the whore by the sink, but she did not even turn to look at the gum smeared on her partner’s cock.

“I have to piss,” she told him. “I’ll wash you later.”

Carmel went to stand by the bound convict. She could smell his sweat and the scent of the whore’s holes still clung to his raging tool. The paste was already crusting against his bulging bright pink skin, so she took a cloth and held it under the tap. She laid the warm cloth on the shaft and wiped away the paste. Another douse of warm water and Ramon’s excellent member was free of the fake semen. She placed her hand on his chest and his side as she removed the paste, and she sensed a tension with every touch. Carmel had almost hoped that encountering the obscure object of her desire would ease her fascination, expecting to find an oaf, or vulgar conceit. Now, resting her hands on his stomach and thighs, the passion was even stronger as she rose to meet his eyes.

“Thank you, Mistress De Bois.”

She glanced at the guard by the door, but he was enjoying some pickings garnered from the buffet, giving her the chance to caress the inside of his thighs, running her fingers down to his knees. She could hear his breath quicken as her fingers crept towards his groin. Betty suddenly returned and presumed Carmel was stroking Ramon’s cock.

“Knock yourself out, dear. He’s free meat today.” Carmel rinsed the cloth once more to wash his chest and his back, and she could not resist dwelling over his buttocks. By the time she reached as far down as his knees, Ramon protested.

“Mistress, please. You are a lady…”

“Ramon, you’re getting special treatment from … who are you?”

“Carmel De Bois, director of The Foundation in Harmon County, and an associate of Senor Ceballos.”

“You’re making all those robot whores with massive tits and tight holes. You’re going to put normal working girls like me out of business.”

“Now would be the time to take advantage of your college education.” Only later Carmel recalled that Ramon laughed at the comment, but she had been told that he barely spoke English because he was rather stupid. She was not sure that Ramon was quite so dumb.

“Mistress De Bois, I am thirsty.” Carmel found a glass of water and set it against his lips. Now there was no choice but to look into his face as he drained the glass. “More please, Mistress.”

“Don’t give him anymore,” Betty said. “It’s a fucking hard job to get him to piss when he’s got that massive pole sticking up. We make him go in a bucket. Isn’t that right big boy?” Betty came across and took hold of his shaft, pressing his flesh. He winced. “Next time don’t ram me so bloody hard at the end. I could feel it coming up through my throat. Miss, you’ll have to book an appointment with Senor Ceballos if you want to taste Ramon’s cock. There are twenty women upstairs staining the plush seats, waiting for him and his massive beef bayonet to make an appearance.”

Ramon turned to Carmel, and she had never seen such a striking smile.

“Good day, Mistress De Bois. I hope to see you again.”

“Wait.” Carmel’s voice was quiet, but assertive as she filled the glass from the tap and held it for Ramon for a second long mouthful. As soon as the glass was empty Betty took hold of his collar and yanked Ramon into the corridor to be paraded, naked, chained and erect, on his way to the eleventh floor. Hector moved to the door as Carmel washed her hands in the sink.

“I believe that young Ramon has developed a … regard for you. I would be impressed, Carmel. Ramon has fucked thousands of women, and has never shown an interest in any of them. He is quite heartless in that respect. You have made an impression on him. You have answered a difficult question for me.” She looked up from the bowl of water. “Now I know what to give you next week for your birthday present.”

The Foundation

12

The Science of Abuse

Daphne Maxwell and Hector Ceballos rose from the leather sofa as a young woman in prison uniform walked into the reception foyer. Pamela Clayton strode across the pristine white tiles with a firm athletic tread that reminded Daphne of Rosa Ortiz. The uniform of tight skirt, white blouse and dark blue tie was not as revealing or as tempting as Rosa’s outfit of black boots and skin tight grey leggings, but Daphne noted her ample breasts and broad shoulders. Carmel had often spoken of her chief guard, the woman who orchestrated the schedule of pain, degradation and humiliation that ensured The Foundation transformed whores, drug dealers and criminals into convict bondage whores, ready and able for every possible indignity.

       “Judge Maxwell, Senor Ceballos, thank you for finding the time to visit us. I know that you have both taken a keen interest in our work here. I’m sorry that Miss De Bois is not available today, but she asked me to show you Dr Cartwright’s excellent work in our infirmary.”

“I completely understand. I never work on my birthday.”

Hector noticed the lingering handshake between the two women, and realised why Carmel had chosen her birthday, a day when she would be absent from work, to invite Maxwell to visit the breast augmentation clinic. He decided to help.

“Carmel speaks so highly of your work, Miss Clayton. She told me only last week that, without you, we would be six months behind our timetable.”

       Clayton only offered her guests a modest smile as she led them into the prison.

They passed a prisoner squatting on a plinth, driving her anus into a wide wooden plug set into the concrete block.

       “What is your crime, whore?”

       “I was last out of the yard after mealtime, Mistress Clayton,” the prisoner gasped, breathless from repeatedly impaling herself on the stick that, Daphne noticed, was smeared with juices and traces of blood.

       “So, for punishment they asked you to sit here and gently nudge yourself like a grandmother on a Sunday afternoon.”

       “No, Mistress, please.” The pace of the anal hammering increased as Clayton ran her baton along the open thighs of the prisoner.

       “Faster, bitch.” The prisoner unleashed a frenzied pounding against the plug, almost reaching the concrete base with her buttocks as she grasped her breasts to massage the nipples, reaching down to lick the hardened skin. She turned to the two visitors.

       “Please, kind Sir, kind Mistress, I’m begging you. Ask Mistress Clayton not to punish me, please.” She panted out a promise to lick the judge’s pussy and suck the cock of Senor Ceballos if they would plead her case. Ceballos cast a swift glance at Clayton, and she gave him a brief nod.

       “Are you a complete slut?” Ceballos asked.

       “I am, kind Sir. I deserve to be abused. I was late, and I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again. Please don’t let Mistress Clayton torture my sore pussy.”

       They agreed to leave the girl on the plinth to ravage her anus for another hour, Hector declining her gracious offer of fellatio. They discussed the prisoner’s breasts as she bounced on the plinth, Daphne being greatly impressed with their shape and consistency. Pamela mentioned that the backside had also been altered and the prisoner removed herself from the pole to show her reshaped buttocks to her guests before mounting her spike to continue her ordeal.

       “Do you notice that she was abusing herself without a guard? She’s been conditioned to accept her pathetic role. She wanted to avoid an electric shock from my baton, but she does not ask to avoid two hours of anal torture for being the last from the yard after lunch.”

       “Is that why you didn’t hit her, because she was doing as she was told?”

       “Judge Maxwell, you understand our work so well. She would only be punished if she had stopped altogether, but she was ravaging herself even though she did not see us. You can also see that she is neither bound nor gagged. We only use restraint in the early phases or when we wish to demean and degrade them before visitors, who usually like to see our subjects in chains.” She stroked the prisoner’s hair as she panted on the plinth. “The occasional warning and reminder of our power is all that is necessary. She has now learnt the lesson not to be slow from the yard and to be energetic when punishing her holes, even when no one is present.” Pamela only needed to tap her baton on the plinth for the captive to heighten the length and speed of her strokes. “Our prisoners are often required to abuse themselves, or abuse other prisoners. It is a question of control rather than simply inflicting pain. However, we need to demonstrate that we can impose pain or discomfort. That is one of the reasons why so much of our treatment involves anal penetration. Anal sex is painful for most women and offers them little chance of sexual release.” Daphne asked for the prisoner to rub her clitoris, and she immediately reached between her lips to stroke herself, moaning with delight with every caress.

“It is a question of maintaining a consistent, dedicated and persistent approach. The methods must be systematic and measured, and you must never lose your temper. You must show virtually no interest in them. You only abuse them to exploit their bodies for financial gain. That is the objective of The Foundation. This woman is no more than a piece of meat. She is three holes and a pair of breasts to be used by paying customers. The subject must learn that their value rests on their sexual performance.”

“Subject?” Daphne questioned the word.

“You need to adopt a scientific approach if you wish to transform these subjects into willing bondage whores, able to perform all forms of degrading and painful sexual acts.”

“You have no interest in abusing them without just cause?”

“No. The purpose is to make them shameless. As you can see and you heard earlier, they have no dignity. She begged you to help her avoid a single dose of this electric baton. There is virtually no disgrace too great for them.”

“Is there anything you would not do?” Hector asked.

“I have my limits, Senor Ceballos. Others, well, some others do not. I cannot claim to be perfect, and I have … occasionally indulged myself, but I like to keep my working day and my leisure time separate. Once my work here is done, I am quite willing to take one of the subjects and … entertain myself. Let’s leave this whore to her … therapy and find Dr Cartwright.”

The door from the courtyard opened into a large darkened room with four sets of stocks set beside a large table. A nurse dressed in a short blue dress with a white cap and apron emerged from the darkness at the back of the room. Neither her stare not her silence welcomed her guests and an awkward moment ensued until Dr Cartwright, a short woman in her early forties with a sweep of auburn hair and hazel eyes behind her glasses, appeared from her office to eagerly greet her visitors and offer them a tour of her dismal laboratory.

“We have four booths to treat prisoners, but usually we just administer two doses at a time.” She wheeled out a trolley holding a large black machine smothered in tubes attached to bottles of green liquid. She removed two metal discs to reveal two hubs, each with two rings of needles radiating out from a large spike.

“There are seventeen needles. One needle into the nipple, four needles three centimetres from the nipple and a further twelve needles six centimetres from the nipple. Each daily dose requires three separate injections.”

A nod to the nurse sent her away to return a minute later with two naked convicts. She slipped a collar onto each girl to haul them to the stocks, frequently slapping their thighs as she secured them by the neck, wrists and ankles to metal rods. The neck and hand rod was set low, so the buttocks protruded out from the ankle restraint.

“Nurse Thurman loves her work.”

“I can see.”

“Number sixty four and number eighty three.” The doctor lifted the hair to check the numbers tattooed on her necks, and placed a mark on her clipboard while her colleague thrust a gag into the mouth of each prisoner.

Nurse Thurman placed the hub of the device against both breasts of each girl and then set the machine in motion. The contraption rolled forward about three inches, sending the needles into the breasts. A few seconds later the liquid began to move in the tubes and the bottles slowly drained to the faint whirr of the mechanism. Both girls winced as the needles sank into the skin.

“How long does the entire process take?”

“It depends on the desired size, but if we to expand the breast size beyond the current standard for adult entertainment artists, we would require a course of injections lasting about … six weeks. After that the time, and money invested sees a diminishing return.”

       “We can increase our production?” Daphne asked, moving away from the girls who were writhing in their shackles. Nurse Thurman administered a series of blows with the electric baton, but the patients continued to struggle.

“Certainly. The procedure is fairly simple. I am familiar with the doses and Nurse Thurman and I can deal with any complications.”

       “The nurse is penetrating those two prisoners with an anal plug. Is that part of the treatment?” Hector asked.

Dr Cartwright uttered a discreet cough.

       “Nurse Thurman … enjoys working amongst naked and bound whores.”

“I don’t blame her. These girls are, as one of my distinguished friends stated, good enough to eat.”

       “Judge Maxwell, would you like to partake?” It was Pamela Clayton who asked.

       “No thank you, and I would like you to call me Daphne. Do these naked girls … excite you, Miss Clayton?”

“I am fortunate that my work is also my hobby, and you may call me Pamela.”

       A scream from the next room ended their intimate talk. Dr Cartwright and Pamela exchanged a disgusted look that was not lost on Daphne.

       “A difficult prisoner?”

       “A difficult … sheriff.”

       “Rosa is here? I didn’t know she still came, after … last week.”

       “She’s still here virtually every day.” Cartwright’s comment sounded like a complaint. “After she did so much harm … It’s just so annoying.”

       “Shelley, please. Judge Maxwell and Sheriff Ortiz are … close.”

       “Where is she?” Pamela hesitated to answer, but Daphne insisted on seeing her lover. Another scream sent Daphne on her way.

Rosa Ortiz stood over the prisoner lying on the table, wielding an encrusted baton glowing crimson in the pale light. The woman had fainted and Ortiz was attempting to rouse her with blows to the buttocks and back. A swift glance at his companion told Hector that the judge was profoundly shocked by the scene.

“Rosa. You’ll kill her.” Rosa appeared to be intoxicated, her bloodshot eyes glaring across the room. “Sometimes, Rosa, I think you go too far.” Rosa said nothing, still breathless from her abuse of the bound whore.

“There’s plenty more meat at this market.”

“It’s not your meat, Rosa.”

“I am the law in this town.”

A tense silence descended as Daphne moved closer to the table to see the girl lying in a pool of blood around the head. She was relieved to touch her neck and find that she was still alive.

“Rosa.” Daphne’s voice was no more than a whisper. “This is the second time in less than a week that you’ve nearly killed a prisoner. I would like you to go home. We’ll talk about this tonight.”

The Foundation

13

The Birthday Present

Carmel stepped out of her Lexus and considered her profile in the reflection from the car window. The dark blue bikini showed beneath the white patterned smock and she turned to study her backside. She knew she would be compared to the whores from The Foundation, and reached into her bag for her mirror and a last inspection of her eyeliner and lipstick. She wondered why she was preparing herself for him when he was just a male whore, like the women she saw, naked and abused, every working day. He had been sent by Hector as a birthday present, and she knew what to expect when she walked through the door into the garden.

He would be lying by the pool waiting for her, naked, but not bound. Hector had promised there would be no special injections, and this would be his first ‘performance’ of the day. Carmel herself had prepared for the afternoon by drinking Kiriko after Pamela claimed that only persistent high doses would cause brain damage, and there was no harm in a single shot.

“He’s a male whore and porn star,” she told her reflection in the darkened glass. “He spends all his time fucking whores and rubbing himself to entertain rich women, and I’m worrying if he’ll think I’m a slut. I’m the Mistress, and today he’s my sex slave.”

       Carmel opened the door and walked through the garden, determined to be assertive, but as she drew near to the house she saw him lying by the pool, soaking the rays of the bright afternoon sun, and she hesitated at the sight of his firm body stretched out on the sun lounger. He was wet from a dip in the pool, and the taut brown skin had yet to dry in the sun. In the shade of the tree stood a table with three covered silver trays and two bottles of champagne lying in an ice bucket. Hector was treating her to a lavish afternoon. She set her bag on the table and removed her mirror for a very last look at her face as he stirred on the thin mattress and rolled onto his back

Ramon rose to walk to the table, allowing Carmel a first sight of his body without ropes, cuffs and chains. His torso was athletic without being too muscular, because Hector did not want his physique to detract from his one very significant muscle. His legs were firm and he walked with a strong gait around the pool. His cock was magnificent, but she was also charmed by his smile.

He went to the table, picked out one of the champagne bottles and, covering the mouth with a towel, removed the cork. He took a glass and poured a full measure, handing it to Carmel. He filled another glass and proposed a toast.

“Happy birthday, Mistress De Bois.” They drained their glasses and he kissed her, his burgeoning erection brushing against her bikini briefs as he drew her close.

Ramon had been savouring this moment since Hector told him that the blonde woman in the business suit from the Grand Hotel would be joining him at the villa. He had been intrigued by her cream skin, elegant manner and delicate hands, leaving him aroused by just the touch of her hand. He knew that she was powerful, and he knew that she was attracted to him because he could feel the dampness as he stroked her bikini briefs. By now his cock was rising towards her navel and he drew her closer for another kiss. Her mouth was soft and warm and she released a low moan as he pressed himself against her flat stomach.

Ramon stepped back to loosen the three buttons of her smock. She raised her hands over her head as he lifted the light dress and laid it over the back of the chair by the table.

“Mistress, would you like more champagne?”

“Not now. I want to be sober for … most of the day.”

She looked down on his erection and stroked the soft skin with the outside of her fingers, no more than a gentle caress. He breathed deeply.

“Thank you, Mistress. Every time I come, I think of you.”

“Ramon. Did Senor Hector tell you to say that?”

“No Mistress, ever since I saw you here … I’ve thought about you … a lot. When I saw you at the hotel, I knew that ... I would like to see you.”

She unbuttoned her top and he leant forward to kiss each breast.

“These don’t compare with the other girls.”

“I don’t compare them, Mistress.”

“Liar.” She set her hand on his chin. “What about the others? What about the superwhores?”

“They are not you. You are decent, not like the prison whores, or like me.”

“You are better than you think, Ramon.”

“No, Mistress, I am Ramrod Ramon, the hot Mexican. I read my own publicity. I am a male whore. Don’t pretend I am anything more than that.”

He sank down onto one knee and slipped his fingers beneath her bikini briefs, feeling the soft flesh around her swollen lips. He rolled down the cloth and set his finger along the moist parting. Carmel almost came before he had even finished his first stroke and within seconds his hand was coated in her juices.

“You are pleased to see me, Mistress.”

“I thought you didn’t understand English.”

“My life is easier if everyone thinks that I am stupid.”

“Then, why do you let me know that you’re not brainless?”

“I trust you.”

He drew her briefs to her ankles and she stepped out, so that now they were both naked. He took hold of her calves and caressed behind her knees.

“Ramon, you know your way around a woman’s body.”

“I am a sexpert, Mistress.”

She lay down on the towel on the grass and drew her legs wide apart as he set his foreskin against her lips. The flesh parted and he slid inside her to a gentle moan. He pushed further and then began a slow pulsing, drawing her wider with each stroke. She took hold of his buttocks and pressed him deeper into her.

“Fuck me, Ramon, fuck me hard.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Ramon.” She drew him close. “There’s no need to call me Mistress when you have your cock in my cunt.”

“I call all my respectable ladies Mistress.”

“Respect me less and fuck me harder, that’s an order.”

“As you wish, Mistress De Bois.”

The pulsing increased and he sank deeper. She felt as if he was filling her entire body as his thrusts grew ever stronger and swifter. She came twice before he had even begun to breath heavily and then he took her ankles and set them against his elbow and pounded into her, driving her back along the ground with each vigorous stroke. His muscles contracted and he stiffened, drawing out his member.

“No. I want you to come inside me.”

He renewed his pulsating strokes and a minute later his back arched, he offered one final thrust and Carmel felt him explode inside her. He sank on top of her and moved to roll away, but she drew him closer.

“Where do you think you’re going? Hold me, Ramon.”

They lay on the towel while he moved his hands over her body, covering her in kisses before lifting her from the ground and carrying her to the table for their meal of fried chicken and potatoes along with the rest of the bottle of champagne. After the meal he took her again to the towel and used his hand for another orgasm, staring all the while into her eyes as she gasped with pleasure. Then, as a parting shot, he bestowed another pounding, inducing yet more orgasms that finally ruined the towel.

“I have to go,” she told him. “It’s my birthday, but I still have to work.”

“So do I.” She turned to see a man in prison uniform appear from the doorway of the villa.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, but I won’t be wearing any clothes when I get there.”

They showered in the villa, Ramon soaping her back and thighs and almost drawing another orgasm with his lathered hands massaging her body before he combed her hair as she sat on the bed. It was their final act as lovers, because she reached into the dresser for a dark blue business suit.

“It was sent this morning. I have an engagement at the Town Hall at six.”

“You are very efficient.”

“I have to be.”

She dressed into her suit and they were transformed from a woman and a man into a senior executive and her naked whore. She was about to drive away in her Lexus to the Town Hall while he was about to be chained for his journey in the prison van to another sex session.

He stepped out into the hallway and the officer cuffed him at the wrists and elbows.

“Enjoy your poke?” he asked Carmel.

“None of your business, but since you ask. He was sensational.” She stroked his cheek. Ramon smiled.

“The whore has to leave. You can wave goodbye with your dick. Come on Ramrod. Time for you next show.” The guard led Ramon out of the house and into the prison van parked on the gravel.

“I’m just a stupid slut, getting wet for a guy because he’s got a massive dick. I’m no less a whore than those sluts getting raped in the prison yard,” she though as she drove onto the main road and turned her Lexus towards the town lights. However, that night she stayed at her computer until three in the morning watching Ramon’s exploits, constantly replaying her favourite scenes of Ramon buggering a petite blonde in a dark blue bikini.

The Foundation

14

Exhibit A

Judge Maxwell surveyed the courtroom before sinking into her seat while the usher struggled to silence the court. The House of Justice had been crowded for the past thirty minutes, the boisterous spectators eager for a sight of the defendant. As an uneasy silence descended Maxwell finally let her eyes fall on the accused standing, legs splayed, before the bench. Pamela had introduced a demeaning invention, chaining their ankles to two bars so that they laboured to stand, increasing their distress and their sense of submission. The accused now stood directly in front of the judge’s bench with their back to the courtroom and the lawyers, allowing Daphne an intimate view of the tender quivering bodies as she condemned these young girls to years of sexual slavery. Pamela knew how to satisfy Daphne’s needs.

       The outfit had been Daphne’s idea, a jet black sling bikini with only a skimpy covering for the vagina. She could see the succulent pubic mound yearning to escape the tight confines of the stretched fabric, and she could not avoid a furtive stroke of her loins. Pamela had added a cruel touch by soaking the outfit before the walk in the sun, so as the fabric dried it shrank, leaving the prisoner in agony as the lining sliced her holes. A double dose of Kiriko had also left her shuddering with sexual tension as she stood before the bench. The prisoner, having stood before the empty judge’s seat for the last hour, was sweating, leaving her toned body glistening in the sunlight.

       Rosa really only had herself to blame. She was no more than a backwater turnkey who owed her post as sheriff to Daphne’s generosity, yet she demanded a share of the profits of The Foundation. Also, Rosa had come to bore Daphne as a lover, especially now that she had met Pamela, whose brown hair and light skin exuded East Coast elegance. Pamela and Daphne were gentry, while Rosa was, as Pamela so aptly noted, “just a peasant with a badge.” Daphne was impressed by Pamela’s work on Rosa. She was no spring chicken these days, but her breasts were impressive and her toned legs accentuated her reshaped rear. Daphne allowed herself another stroke of her damp knickers, but no more.

       The case began, and the court official read out the charge of possession of cocaine. Pamela was the first witness. She glanced at the former sheriff swaying to hold her balance as she recounted how, during a visit from a number of respectable Harmon citizens, the former sheriff was found to have inserted a quantity of cocaine into her anus.

“I find it difficult to believe that such a large consignment could be concealed on her body.”

“Your Honour, not on her body, in her body.”

Judge Maxwell leant forward.

“I doubt that a package of that size could be inserted into anyone without causing considerable damage.”

“I can assure you, Your Honour, the defendant has experience of … accommodating significant loads in her anus from her days as a prostitute.” A wave of angry shouts surged across the court room at the revelation of Rosa’s career as a whore. Pamela could not resist a smile at the raucous effect of her malicious lie.

“I am not convinced. I need proof that the package will fit.”

A shiver of excitement ran through the room when the spectators realised that Judge Maxwell insisted upon the former sheriff stuffing the bag of cocaine into her anus.

She motioned to Sheriff Jensen, who did not need a second invitation to wrench the straps from Rosa’s fragile costume and leave her standing naked before the courtroom.

“Do we have Exhibit A?”

The court usher brought out the package, taken from a police storeroom in Houston six weeks before to be inserted into Ortiz only moments before the arrival of the delegation. The women in the court gasped at the size of the stash.

“That’ll never go in there.”

“You’d be surprised at these whores. They’ll do anything for money.”

       The entire court leant forward as Jensen took the package from the court official and laid it on the table.

“Allow me.” Pamela left the witness box to stand by her prisoner. “I can assure you that it came out. I will, Your Honour, show you that it can return.”

A nod and a smile from Judge Maxwell set Pamela massaging her fingers into Rosa’s anus, returning to the tender intimate parts as she had visited so often over the past six weeks. Rosa began to moan, gasping for breath as the prison officer’s fingers began to prise apart her anal muscles as her hips swayed back and forth to the rhythm of Pamela’s abuse. A minute of pounding won her sufficient access for all five fingers and soon her knuckles were disappearing into Rosa.

“I think, Miss Clayton, you should show the good people of Harmon the depth of this young woman’s depravity, and the scale of the problems you face at the Foundation.”

Sheriff Jensen freed the ankles and Pamela spun her prisoner around to allow the audience a view of her hand disappearing into the former sheriff. Gasps of astonishment blended with shouts of encouragement for Pamela and outrage at such disgraceful behaviour from a former law officer.

Daphne, having enjoyed watching Pamela working her fingers into the prisoner, wanted to see how Rosa reacted to enduring brutal sodomy in front of the entire town, a cruel violation that would now condemn her to fifteen years of sexual slavery in The Foundation. Daphne had observed many convicts as she issued their sentence. There were groans of resignation, the occasional gasp of surprise and the odd glare of resentment. Now she could witness Rosa, naked and in chains, standing before her while suffering anal rape from her bitterest enemy. This was humiliation and degradation beyond endurance. Daphne could not resist a smile and a fleeting cuddle of her vagina as Pamela raised Rosa’s left leg to power her fist further into her enemy.

Pamela held up the white package to the audience before it began the journey into Rosa. Pamela lifted her prisoner onto the table and laid her legs in a straight line running from toe to toe. The last six weeks at Pamela’s hands, and her baton, ensured that Rosa was fully flexible, and she lay flat against the wood as the package disappeared between her buttocks. The room was silent, with only the rippling sound of the plastic bag and the occasional grunt of displeasure from the prisoner. 

“How are you getting along Miss Clayton? Do you need a hand?”

“I’m nearly there, Your Honour.”

A minute later, as Rosa growled in pain through her gag, Pamela stood up from the table. She brought Rosa to the judge and displayed her anus to confirm the evidence.

“Show the people. They have a right to know the truth about their former sheriff.”

She brought Rosa to the bar, and in one swift movement she spun her around and thrust her head towards the floor. Exhibit A was now no more than a faint white stain in Rosa’s pink hole. Shouts of abuse for the sheriff followed the outraged gasps of the people of Harmon. Judge Maxwell eventually restored order and demanded that the defendant walk one mile with the bag in her anus to demonstrate that she was capable of retaining her drugs long enough to distribute to her contacts.

Pamela guided Rosa from the House of Justice with an anal handle, an adaptation of the baton Rosa had used to steer degraded and abused prisoners on their humiliating parade through the town after their convictions. Now it was Rosa who was forced to walk three times around the town square, followed by a strident crowd shouting abuse and threats. Some of the women approached for a slap and a kick, but the prison officers saved Rosa from most of the assaults. Thirty minutes after leaving, Rosa returned to the House of Justice, accompanied by an incensed entourage of mothers, patriots and respectable citizens, all outraged by the sheriff’s crime.

Rosa was shackled once more between the ankle bars, where she remained for another ten minutes until the door behind the bench opened and Judge Maxwell returned to her court. Sheriff Jensen confirmed that the defendant had walked at least one mile with Exhibit A in her anus, and the package remained within her orifice. Judge Maxwell wrote a few lines on her paper, set down her pen and weaved her fingers together before bestowing a stern, disapproving look at the defendant. She turned to the jury and asked them to carefully consider their verdict, silencing the shouts from some citizens for an immediate conviction.

The deliberations lasted for more than two hours, mainly because the jurors were able to enjoy lunch at the county’s expense once their discussions stretched beyond eleven thirty. During luncheon Rosa remained chained to the bars with Exhibit A in her anus and by the time Daphne returned to her seat to hear the juror’s conclusions, her body was covered in sweat and her legs rippled from the strain of the evidence wedged into her body. The jury’s verdict brought cheers from the audience and Judge Maxwell’s sentence of fifteen years was barely audible above the abuse heaped upon the former sheriff.

Daphne concluded the hearing with a call for greater vigilance for the sake of Harmon’s children and echoed the audience’s condemnation of the flagrant abuse of power by a trusted public official. Her final words were an expression of thanks for Pamela Clayton, who enjoyed the gratitude of the town for her prompt action.

Pamela led Rosa from the House of Justice to the waiting prison truck. A neck brace was fitted around her throat and attached to the rear bumper. The truck rolled away and gathered speed, forcing Rosa to sprint with her mouth gagged and her hands cuffed to the neck brace. She was accompanied on her tour through the town by a few of the local men, who issued slaps with their hands and swipes with sticks to send her naked, shackled and barefoot on her way to fifteen years of sexual slavery. However, by the time the truck had rolled through the town to arrive at the dirt track leading to the prison, Rosa was alone.

The Foundation

15

Crime and Punishment

A small crowd was already gathering by the wooden stage as the prison van rolled into the town square. A howl of artificial anger could not hide the sense of callous expectation as the five naked prisoners were led onto the stage to stand, in standard Foundation style, with their legs spread wide apart, presenting their fettered bodies for the entertainment of the spectators. The small stage was no more than eighteen inches above the ground, but high enough to allow anyone to see every detail of the prisoner’s bodies. The crowd insulted and ridiculed the naked convicts as cameras and phones recorded the scene.

“Your pussy’s wet, you slut.”

“Looking forward to having your cunt fried tonight?”

“You deserve everything you get, you fucking bitch.”

“How does it feel to stand there, with everyone looking at your pussy?”

“You’re going to get fucked in every hole tonight, for hours.”

“Get ready for a night of hell. Take your medicine, you whore.”

The prisoners stood before the mocking crowd, enduring their taunts, while the two prison officers removed the sheets to reveal the bondage and torture devices for the evening’s show. Each girl pretended to struggle as they were impaled and bound to their apparatus, provoking laughter and cheers. One prisoner even managed to wriggle free of the guards and, despite being bound at the wrist and elbow, she leapt down from the stage and sprinted along the path towards the park’s main gate, chased by a mob of howling men. She almost reached the road before one of the pursuers grabbed her hair and threw her to the ground. She tried to rise, but the others kicked her as she rolled on the grass. Eventually she was hauled to her feet and led back towards the stage. They passed a bollard on their way and the convict whore was pushed against the concrete and forced to masturbate, chafing her pubic mound against the rough sides. Her captors, excited by such shameless behaviour, slapped her buttocks with fallen branches to increase the vigour of her strokes, and it was nearly a minute before she was dragged away to return to the stage.

As a reward for convicting every naked woman brought before the court, The Foundation provided regular public abuse, torture and rape displays for the people of Harmon. These ‘justice sessions’ now drew a large audience and the repertoire of disgusting and humiliating acts inflicted on the prisoners had expanded to satisfy public demand. The standard prison stocks had been replaced by even more demeaning forms of restraint. One prisoner was suspended from a steel rail by her wrists and ankles, leaving her dangling in the breeze. Another was placed on a plinth with the hands bound to their ankles and a third prisoner was placed in the ‘welcome wagon’ with her ankles bolted above her head and her arms held fast by her side, once again exposing her sexual holes to any violation. The two prisoners at each end of the stage were restrained in standard stocks, but their hands and neck were fastened to a steel rod set low so that their anus was open for abuse.

       The traditional method of punishment for whores had been lashes from a whip, but The Foundation had moved beyond this barbaric approach. The sentence in Harmon was to be administered through electric shocks from anal plugs, shoved into each prisoner and tested with a short sharp shock that jolted the victim and lead to an ovation from the crowd. Once all five prisoners had been prepared for the agonies ahead, the guard walked to the edge of the stage to address the audience.

Tanya Klingerman had moved from Louisiana to work at the prison, drawn by the prospect of spending her days amongst dozens of naked and helpless whores, young women trained to abandon all sense of decency and shame as they served the lusts of others. Tanya was a lesbian sadist who swiftly earned the reputation as one of the most brutal guards in the prison. She had found her place at The Foundation, and she intended to enjoy every moment of the evening’s ritual. The five prisoners knew that the next twenty four hours would be a gruesome experience at the hands of such an authority in administering pain and humiliation. 

Tanya read the sentence of Judge Maxwell’s court. The prisoners were guilty of indolence, immorality, laziness and greed. The penalty was to be one hundred electric pulses in the anus. The prisoners twisted in their bonds when they heard the severity of the sentence while the crowd cheered the good news as a middle aged woman stepped up onto the planks. She was introduced as Mrs Kennedy, a mother of four from a neighbouring county. She had come, she told the crowd, because her eldest was about to have her first baby, and she did not want her grandchild to be threatened by drug dealing whores who spread diseases and corrupted young men. Her comment that she wanted “to fry a whore’s cunt” brought more cheers.

“Which one first, Mrs Kennedy?”

The girls began the usual demeaning and futile pleas, urging Mrs Kennedy to torture one of their companions. Eventually, after two minutes of indecision, walking back and forth in front of the five prisoners for a close inspection of each whore, Mrs Kennedy pressed a button.

“I’ve never liked bleached blondes.”

The prisoner in the ‘welcome wagon’ jolted in her fetters to rowdy applause and more laughter.

“She’s toasting your pussy, you fat cunt.”

“Dance, whore dance.”

“Welcome to Harmon, you drug dealing whore.”

Each prisoner was subject to the same sentence, and twice a spectator was invited to impose the penalty. One woman stood within a foot of the prisoner as she ravaged her anus with sustained blasts from the buzzer, slapping the bound girl’s face between the bursts of pain. By the end of the fifth wave of anal torment, the crowd had grown to more than a hundred spectators.

The prisoners were then subject to a series of degrading and painful rituals. Prisoners sodomised themselves on dildos, penetrated each other with anal plugs and were raped with batons by Tanya and her companion, Jessica Perkins. However, the crowd’s favourite rite was for a prisoner to be taken to squat at the edge of the stage to vigorously masturbate. The spectators crowded around the whore to twist her nipples, slap her face and grope her huge breasts. The plug races between the whores were also a special treat because, as well as watching the prisoners spear themselves on huge vibrators, the defeated contestant was always given a sustained dose of electrical torture that brought wild applause. As the light faded the crowd thickened, and Tanya began to accept requests from the audience. Prisoners would be chosen and their suffering would draw abuse and more taunts from the front row, where the most heartless spectators gathered to enjoy a clear view of the torment. 

At nine o’clock Tanya and Jessica handed over the prisoners to Judy Langan, the night guard, to supervise the ‘open stage’ when members of the public were entitled to enjoy five bound and naked whores. Tanya returned to the prison to enjoy the rest of her Friday evening with one of her ‘pets’ but Jessica slipped into the cinema toilet and changed to meet her boyfriend, Ray.

They dined at Ray’s favourite pizza restaurant, the King’s Realm, before watching the final showing of the latest romantic comedy. Jessica, after a long working week, enjoyed the simple tale of a wealthy man who eventually realises his shy personal assistant, rather than the bitchy blonde, was the woman for him. Jessica was ready for bed, but Ray wanted to visit the bar by the railway station for just one last brandy that turned out to be three cognacs and four games of pool. So, it was past two in the morning when Jessica and Ray strolled through the gentle rain into the town square. The light from Judy’s van shone in the darkness, and the sound of shouts and laughter drifted in the dank night air. They wandered across the damp grass to see a dozen figures loitering around the five whores. Judy joined them by the stage, shivering in the cool air.

“I think it’ll be a quiet one. It’s too cold for sex, so there’s just a lot of fisting. It’s mainly outsiders here tonight, but this gang are nearly finished. It’s surprising how boring buggering someone can get. Well, they should enjoy it while they can. Six weeks from now we’ll all be gone. Have you found a place? Houston’s so expensive.”

“Ray and I are moving to Pearland. What about you and Tony?”

“It’s just me.” Judy’s wan smile evoked a touch of the shoulder from her friend.

“Don’t worry. Maybe you’ll meet a respectable young gentlemen here tonight.”

“They’re too busy with these bitches to look at me.”

Behind them they heard a prisoner being dragged across the planks. Jessica could not see her face, but the pale beam of the van’s headlights showed her gritted teeth as two men drew apart her legs for a woman to insert a large dark object into her anus.

“That’s not true,” Ray spoke out. “They’re just fuckmeat. Holes.”

“Ray’s not keen on my work.”

“I don’t like you working with these whores. It’s like working in a zoo. They’re just filthy animals.”

“It’s only for another two years. You know I want to go to college and finish my Accounting degree, but the prison pays well, very well. Come on, let’s leave Judy. She has to keep an eye on these whores.”

As they walked past the stage they heard the grunts of the prisoners enduring the pounding from their tormentor’s fists and a woman’s giggle.

“It’ll never fit in there.”

“It will, if you push really, really hard. See I told.”

“Man, you are a cruel fucker.”

“That must hurt like hell.”

“Man. I didn’t believe you, but … fuck. Free meat, and it’s great pussy.”

A gust of cool air carried a sprinkling of rain, and Jessica turned up her collar as she quickened her stride to be out of the chilly air, leaving the prisoners on the stage to a cold wet night of sodomy and brutal rape.

The Foundation

16

The Fuck Factory

Carmel drew back the large red door marked Studio 1 and stepped inside to see a young woman with a clipboard watching three prisoners being cuffed and chained while a fourth prisoner was slipping into a dark blue leotard. Carmel recognised the producer.

“Sasha. We meet again. How is life in Hollywood?”

“Very good. I’m making a lot of money with Hector. I run all his media these days. These girls really are very good, just like those three whores we had last year. We can double our standard output and the range of degrading abuse is considerable. However, we could do with some really big men.” Sadie could not resist a smile. “Hector and I are close, very close.” Carmel looked slightly embarrassed. “It makes good business sense to obtain such a fine sample as young Ramrod. I am sure he would be a very profitable acquisition.”

Carmel turned to the four prisoners and asked about Sasha’s latest feature.

“We’re advertising The Foundation’s bondage whores. It’s called Foundation Prison Escape. Three convict whores escape during a visit to a local hospital.” Sasha answered Carmel’s surprised look. “We’ve got two nurses’ outfits. The girls escape and they are pursued by the prison officer, Mistress Whiptide. They’re captured, and the local sheriff, Sheriff Pokemhard, arrives and … well he fucks all four of them, and Miss Whiptide buggers the girls a lot. I mean a hell of a lot. The Foundation will be mentioned at least once a minute, and the term hot bitches will be used in virtually every scene. As you can see the girls are all in ‘Harmon blue’ including our very sexy guard.”

“I do like the outfit.” The prisoner wore black boots reaching to her thighs, a tight dark blue leotard, a cap with a bright blue band and sunglasses. The costume was completed by a brown leather baton and white gloves.

“I modelled her on Sheriff Ortiz. Is there any chance that she could appear in one of my films? I’d love to have her taking that baton up the arse.”

“Sadly, we have other plans for Senorita Ortiz.”

The other three women wore only dark blue vests advertising The Foundation’s website as they were chained to the wall. Mistress Whiptide drew out her baton and placed the head against the anus of one of the girls. The prisoner begged the officer to abuse another girl, and a row began between two whores, each calling for the other to endure an anal pounding from the officer’s truncheon.

“It’s lunch hour, so there’s no actual filming, but I’ll take you on a tour of the facility. It really is very impressive. Worth every cent.”

“It should do. It cost me enough. That’s why the studio is open before the rest of the prison. We need revenue to service our debts.”

Studio 2 was just a bedroom with a table in the corner. A whore in pink suspenders and basque was tied to the bed, but the rest of the set was empty except for a young man studying a lap top computer.

“Lesbian bondage session,” he explained, returning to his screen while the whore moaned from the pain of three hours tied to a bed.

The director, Dave Corsair, appeared with a bound whore, dressed in white lingerie and high heels, by his side.

“My lunch time treat,” he explained, clasping her buttocks.

“Dave. I thought you’ve been around long enough to have had your fill of fuckmeat.”

“I have been around far too long, but these are the juiciest cunts I’ve ever seen. Miss De Bois, my complements on your pussies.” He offered Carmel a bow which was met with the slightest of curtsies.

“I am honoured that an aficionado should pay me such respect.”

Carmel asked about the large red steel door, wondering if it was a fire measure.

“No, the doors keep out the sound, and keep it in. We don’t want any screams disturbing the rest of the prison.”

“On the contrary, Mister Corsair, I insist upon hearing screams from your set. Then I know you’re making the right kind of movies.”

Studio 3 was decorated as a dungeon, with a fake brazier glowing in the corner and torture devices littering the set.

“The other studios will be altered about once a week, but the dungeon will be almost a permanent feature. We’re planning a whole series. We can have a lot of fun in here. We can take these whores to places never seen on public video.”

“A porn pioneer. You should be proud.”

The set was deserted of technicians, but the stocks and the bondage devices all contained whores. Four prisoners dangling from the ceiling, a couple were bound to the wall with their ankles over their heads and three women peered out from tight cages. All wore gags, and their muffled cries told Carmel that they had endured a painful, demanding and degrading morning on the set. She was satisfied that Sasha was taking full advantage of The Foundation’s assets.

“You’ll be pleased with the film crew. They barely treat them as humans. One technician only found out they spoke English last Tuesday. They call the girls fuckmeat and treat them like animals. The harder we drive these whores, the more money everyone will earn. It is in everyone’s interest to treat them as brainless sluts.”

They left the dungeon and walked out into the warm afternoon to see three whores staked to the ground in the manicured garden. Carmel placed her shoe on the head of the middle whore.

“Slave, why are you here?”

“Mistress, I failed to come when Master ordered me. I’m very sorry.”

“How long have you been here?”

“A night and a day, Mistress.”

“Good. I am glad to see that Mister Corsair is not indulging my whores. They’ll be impossible to use if he spoils them.”

“Please Mistress, I …”

Carmel silenced the whore by pressing her face into the mud, but the fate of the first prisoner did not stop the other girls pleading to be released. Sasha and Carmel ignored their abject appeals while Sasha explained how they would use the garden to film some outdoor shots as well as using a large vacant mansion belonging to an absent landlord.

“Handy.” Carmel smiled. “I want these sluts working every hour. Time is money, and I intend to make myself rich before very long.”

“I’ve set a rota, and these girls will be working ten hours a day for the next thirty days. Then we replace them with another twenty girls. I think we can get ten hours a week of footage from each set, and with a fourth set in the garden we could be talking about forty hours of high quality hardcore bondage porn a week. Carmel, we have ourselves a porn factory.”

The whores on the grass pleaded with Carmel and Sasha to free them from their callous torment, pulling against their chains and writhing in the mud as they watched the two women step over them as they left the garden.

They returned to Studio 1 to find the crew returned from their lunch, preparing for the next scene. The three naked girls were strapped to the wall while the fourth prisoner in guard uniform was adopting the standard Foundation pose, virtually ignored by the technicians moving around the set.

“We’re filming the climax of the film, which is just a lot of anal fucking. The male lead will sodomise each whore in turn while Kara, the girl in the uniform, will bugger them with her baton.”

Carmel called over the whore in the costume and took the truncheon. The three whores chained to the wall eyed their Director as she ran her fingers over the head of the cudgel.

“Display.” All three girls set their legs wide apart. Carmel touched the buttocks of the blonde and told her to spread her legs even wider as the leather baton gradually disappeared to muffled grunts from the prisoner. Carmel stood back to admire her work, the baton jutting no more than five inches out of the whimpering whore. 

“I want that shot.”

“We don’t have three batons.”

“You only need one. The male whore can bugger another girl and tie the third prisoner to the wall. The male and the guard can double penetrate her hanging from the ceiling. How does that sound?”

“Great. You have a talent for this line of work, Miss De Bois.”

“I like to indulge my artistic temperament. Now, speaking of temperamental artists, where’s the porn stud?”

       Ulysses Winchester – Harper, the Harvard graduate son of a merchant banker, was renowned within the porn industry for his arrogance, poor punctuality and his massive penis. After two years selling his body in LA clubs he embarked upon a film career that had brought him notoriety and a reasonable income, supplemented by ‘private parties’ for wealthy Hollywood women. He accepted his agent’s offer of a trip to Texas partly because it offered him the chance to work for six full days, but his main reason for coming to Houston was to charm Carmel De Bois.

       Ulysses looked out from the small plastic cubicle that served as a dressing room to see a woman in a grey business suit standing by the window with the producer. Here was his challenge, and his opportunity. Porn star fame could not keep him in expensive suits and a new sports car every other year now that almost all the inheritance money from his Wall Street grandfather was gone. A businesswoman would be a good meal ticket for a few years, and he had bedded enough wealthy women to know that they could be generous to their pets.

Ulysses stroked his member to fashion a full erection, slipped out of his dressing gown, glanced in his mirror to check his blonde locks and sauntered across the studio towards the woman in battleship grey. She saw him coming, his pink tool glowing against his pale skin, but Ulysses was undaunted by her cold look. Carmel De Bois would be a demanding task, but the higher the mountain, the greater the prize.

       “Miss De Bois, I presume.” He took her hand and planted a kiss. “I don’t believe that I’ve had the pleasure.”

       “I’m certain that you have not.” Ulysses ignored Sasha’s giggle.

       “May I take this opportunity to thank you for your kind invitation to visit your new … resource. I believe that we will soon be joined by almost three hundred tight young pussies. If you need a hand … licking them into shape, you only need to ask.”

       “If we need you, Mister …”

“Winchester – Harper, Ulysses Winchester – Harper.” He announced his name, as if revealing a wonderful secret. If the news was meant to impress Carmel, it failed. “I hope that your new arrivals will be smarter than these morons I’ve been performing with this morning. I’ve met smarter dogs.”

       “I’ll bring our Ivy League graduate whores for you.” He smiled and examined the Director of The Foundation as if considering livestock. He intended to fascinate, but Carmel thought this naked male whore sporting an erection in public was struggling to look masterful.

“Mr Winchester – Harper, is there something I can do for you?”

       “I thought that, as you invited me here today to … partake of these young damsels, I thought you might be interested in examining my assets.”

       “Firstly, Mr …”

“Winchester – Harper, but you can call me Ulysses.”

“I did not invite you. Miss Benson booked you. Secondly, I have neither the …”

       “Carmel, I know you won’t be disappointed.” She finally looked down on his cock. It was impressive, but the owner was an arrogant bore.

“I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Ramon Hernandez who, I believe, owns the largest cock in the Union.”

“I am not familiar with his work. He sounds like Mexican rough trade to me. I doubt that he measures up to my weapon of mass distraction.” Ulysses stroked his penis, closing his eyes as he massaged the moist tip. Winchester – Harper was paler than Ramon, so the dark underside of his penis reminded Carmel of a snake, and the analogy was quite fitting. She was offended by the remark about Ramon, and she decided to be simply impolite.

       “Mister Winchester – Harper, I am very busy at the moment. I would be grateful if you could return to your work.” There was no movement from the naked porn star other than a smile. Ulysses was too arrogant to be discouraged, but he knew that his campaign to secure her affections, and her bank details, would take time.

       He strolled across to the set, took one of the chained whores off the wall and placed her over a table. He drew her legs apart and ravaged her anus with vigorous thrusts that left even a Foundation whore panting for breath. When he looked up from his passionate display, eager to demonstrate the magnificence of himself in action, Carmel was gone.

The Foundation

17

A Subject Lesson

Rosa, legs apart on the wet gravel, waited while a guard conversed with a group of visitors, including two men in suits. The guard appeared to be teaching, because some of her audience wrote in notepads as she spoke. Rosa recognised Tanya, one of Pamela Clayton’s closest associates, and her most vicious tormentor. Tanya answered a few questions and then, like a tour guide, she led her party to Rosa, naked and splayed in the cool morning air.

       “Now, this is an interesting example. This convict was once a law officer, indeed she was the local sheriff until discovered with a consignment of cocaine in her anus. She’s also a former sadist lesbian, but now she’s just a sex slave. The fact that the subject was once a dominatrix, who often visited this very yard to torture and abuse prisoners, made her subjugation and degradation a difficult task. It also made it great fun.” Her audience laughed. “I would say that this subject has been our greatest challenge.” Tanya placed a hand on Rosa’s buttock. “She’s also been, as you are about to see, our greatest triumph.” Tanya could not resist a smile as she looked down on the red marks decorating the back, buttocks and legs testifying to her determination to degrade this conceited bitch. “This subject will serve to demonstrate some of the key themes involved in our work here at The Foundation. Let us begin.” She turned to her victim.

       “Slave. Listen to my words.” Rosa looked up to her persecutor. “Fuck me in the arse. I want you to rape my holes. Repeat.”

“Fuck me in the arse. I want you to rape my holes.”

“Again.”

“Fuck me in the arse. I want you to rape my holes.”

“Louder.”

“Fuck me in the arse. I want you to rape my holes.”

“Look at your masters and mistresses. Look each one of them in the eye and beg them to abuse you, and let’s have a few thrusts of your pussy to emphasise the point.”

Rosa repeated the message to every one of the visitors, staring at them as she begged for anal abuse. Some looked impassively, a few smirked and the two men seemed interested by her request.

“Now, let’s have a test. What tells you that I am the mistress and she is my slave?”

       “She’s naked.”

       “Good. Also, it is worth noting that she is the only nude here. Clothes are a mark of authority to anyone naked, even clothes without a uniform. Our whores are taught to treat anyone wearing clothes as a superior. How do you know that this subject has been a challenge?”

       “The marks on the body.” A young woman in a dark blue business suit, almost impersonating The Foundation’s shade of blue, and a notepad called out her answer.

       “Good, Miss Henderson. This subject is covered with marks and bruises. As I believe I have shown over the past two hours, this is rare in the training of bondage whores. So, you can presume that she has endured a strenuous training routine. Now, how do you know that we have succeeded in taming this bitch, turning her from a woman into a piece of fuckmeat?”

       “Because none of the wounds are fresh and …” The woman in blue hesitated. “You’re displaying her to us. She would not be here if the training was not complete.” Tanya smiled her approval of the young woman. Miss Henderson was a promising candidate.

       “She’s standing with her legs wide apart. That’s uncomfortable and demeaning,” another visitor called out.        

“Excellent. Please note that throughout this session I have not once even threatened the subject with my baton. She has been subjugated, which means that I do not need to employ force to impose my will.”

One of the men raised his hand to ask a question.

“The girl here is …”

“Subject. We prefer the term subject, though we address them as ‘slave’ in the prison.”

       “The subject here is unbound, but whenever I see these subjects in public, they are bound.”

       “Shackles send a message to anyone viewing the slave. It is a public recognition of their demeaned status. One of the major objectives of The Foundation in the coming year is to establish what we term “a natural state of slavery” for our whores. We aim to convince the public, and the government, our bondage whores are no better than animals. They are simply shameless, lustful pets.” Tanya lifted Rosa’s chin to allow everyone a view of her face. “This bitch has no rights. The film crews who make our movies call them fuckmeat. I like that phrase. It tells us all we need to know about this slut. Now, bitch. Masturbate.”

Rosa began to avidly scrub her vagina lips, slipping her finger deep into herself. “The subject is now masturbating in public. This not only demeans the subject, but informs everyone observing the act that the subject is a whore. No decent individual, even if they found themselves naked in public, would resort to such lewd behaviour. The public use the term ‘shameless’ to describe our prisoners, and that is true. This is also the purpose of Kiriko, a special drug developed to stimulate the subject. It helps maintain sexual arousal, so ensuring that all convict whores are wet during public performances. Curiously, this point tends to be noticed by women rather than men.”

The audience watched Rosa stroking her soft flesh, closing her eyes to concentrate on reaching an orgasm while standing in a cold yard watched by a handful of strangers.

“Hurry up and come, you bitch, or I’ll shove my baton up your arse.”

“Please, Mistress, I am nearly there, just another minute, please.”

While Rosa stood before the visitors massaging her clitoris, Tanya explained how a public orgasm underlined her diminished and depraved nature. The Kiriko also ensured that her orgasm was a surge of juice, and on cue Rosa announced to her Mistress that she was about to come as she shuddered a dozen drops of fluid onto the gravel. Two of the audience offered mocking applause.

       “Now, I will demonstrate the extent of my control over this subject. Slave. Crab.”

       Rosa bent over, slipped her hands between her legs and around her calves to her ankles, so drawing wide her anus. Tanya then ordered Rosa, still holding her ankles, to walk to the far wall and return, shuffling like a crab with her anus on view. A woman giggled at the sight.

       “I am glad that we heard that laugh, because one purpose of any slave position is to undermine the status of the subject, to make her look ridiculous. This is one of the reasons why her breasts are so big. As you can see, we also have easy access to both sexual holes.” Tanya placed her baton on Rosa’s buttocks, and immediately she tensed, quivering as she balanced on her heels. There was more laughter at Rosa’s response to a light touch from Tanya’s stick.

       “You saw the subject’s fearful reaction to the baton. This is a sign of their training, and further evidence that she is a true bondage whore, effectively a slave.”

       “Why don’t you give her a blast?” Miss Henderson asked.

       “Do you want me to?” Tanya was impressed by such savagery in an elegant young woman.

       “I would like to see how you discipline your whores.”

       “No please, Mistress, I’m begging you.” Rosa called out from her demeaning pose. “I’ve been a good slave. I’ll lick your pussy all night, every night.”

       “Will you lick my pussy?” It was Henderson who asked the question. “What would you do to avoid having your cunt fried?”

       “I would do anything, Mistress. Please don’t burn my poor pussy.”

       “Show me your hole.”

       Rosa eagerly grasped her buttocks to draw apart her anus.

       “Slave, what are you?” Tanya asked the question.

       “I’m a slut whore who loves huge cocks in my cunt and my arsehole. I love to lick pussy and suck big dicks. Rape me, rape my holes. Fuck me, I’m begging you, fuck me hard.”

       Tanya smiled and tapped Rosa on her buttocks.

“Good little fuckmeat whore. You’ve escaped discipline, for now. I have shown that she really is shameless. First she masturbates in public and then she endures any indignity to avoid pain.”

For the next five minutes Rosa presented an array of poses, swiftly responding to every command. The guests were impressed by her elasticity and her obedience. 

       “We take pride in producing supple and subservient slaves. Now unless anyone has any specific questions about this slave, I intend to finish with a small challenge for my pet. Miss Henderson was particularly keen to witness a slave experience an electric shock.” The young woman smiled sheepishly at the comment, as if embarrassed by her request. “We call it tremor discipline. However, the subject should be allowed to avoid discipline. Does someone have a stopwatch on their watch?” One of the men stepped forward and raised his wrist. “Men always want watches that do more than just tell the time.” The women giggled and he stepped back, slightly abashed. “If you wouldn’t mind, Mr Acland, once her leg is fully extended, please start your clock.” Tanya stepped back from Rosa and issued the command.

       “Standing split.”

       Rosa grasped her right leg and thrust it into the air, pressing her shin against her cheek.

“The challenge has begun. The subject must hold this pose for the next five minutes. If she fails to keep her leg fully extended and straight, Miss Henderson will have her wish and the subject will endure full anal tremors for one minute.”

Rosa stood before the guests, her leg pointing to the dull grey sky, while Tanya chatted with her visitors, asking about their home towns and their current jobs. Acland called out the first and second minutes without a flicker from Rosa, but just before she reached the third minute she released a grunt of pain.

“The torment will increase with every passing second, but if you have witnessed tremor discipline you would do anything, and I mean anything, avoid it. If she avoids her punishment I will make sure, Miss Henderson, we see some tremor discipline. Some subject is bound to be misbehaving on our tour, I can guarantee that.”

       The final minute arrived and Rosa was quivering as the sweat gathered on her hands and neck. She gritted her teeth as Acland announced the end of the fourth minute. Henderson stepped closer to look at the face of the bondage slave. Rosa gave her only a blank stare as she panted from the strain of holding her pose.

       “Do you think she feels anger towards me? I’ve made her stand like this, and she may be brutally tortured just because of me.”

       “She probably is very angry, but anger is a futile emotion for a sex slave. They endure because they have no choice.”

       By the time Acland was counting down the last few seconds, Rosa was beginning to wobble, and it seemed that she would fail in these final moments. She growled and looked up to the sky to draw on her strength and her determination, gritting her teeth in agony. The entire group counted down the final ten seconds and a mild round of applause greeted the completion of the task. Rosa sank to her knees for a few seconds before Tanya called on her to adopt the standard display mode, soaked in sweat and panting for breath.

       “We’ll leave this one here and move on to the rest of The Foundation’s facilities. I am sorry, Miss Henderson, but this subject is very resilient. I told you she was my greatest challenge. Still, as a parting shot you can set her pose for the next few hours.”

       Henderson stared at Rosa for a moment and smiled before asking for the crab.

“Issue the command. She will obey.”

       “Slave,” she barked. “Crab.”

       Rosa was grasping her ankles within a moment.

       “Any message? One more method of subjugation is to require the slaves to repeat a demeaning or vulgar phrase. It’s just another small indication of control.”

       “My name is Rosa Ortiz, and … I love being fucked in the arse.”

       “Slave, repeat.”

       Rosa began to recount the message. Miss Henderson requested some pelvic thrusts and Rosa obliged by moving her backside up and down.

       “I quite like that phrase. It reminds her how far she has fallen in just six months. Rosa here will be the star of a very special show we’re putting on next Friday. A farewell present to Harmon. It’s called ‘One Hundred and Twenty Hours of Sodomy.’ It’s a one woman show, and our publicity people have arranged for a network chat show to cover the story. Now, I want to show you Dr Cartwright’s excellent work on reshaping our whores.” Tanya slapped Rosa’s buttocks as a farewell and led the visitors into the next room.

       Two hours later Rosa was still thrusting her hips while recounting the young woman’s message. The door opened and the pace of her humiliation increased and she raised her voice as the two men and a middle aged woman came to stand over Rosa.

“Sheriff Rosa Ortiz. It really is you. I never … You can stop the chant. I never thought they could do it, but here you are.” She turned to her companions. “Miss Ortiz was one of the toughest bitches in law enforcement, and there are some real cunts in that league. Now, she’s a slut whore with a wet pussy. How the mighty have fallen.”

       “Well boss. Do they have something here?”

       “It merits further consideration. I’ll talk to De Bois tomorrow and get our tech guys to come down for a look. I’ve seen enough. What time is our flight?

       “Five twenty. We can be there in half an hour. Which means …”

       The woman sighed and gave both men a fake disapproving look.

       “Mistress, I’m begging you,” Acland said, imitating the phrase from the tortured whores in the main building when Henderson unleashed a few blows on the anus of an unfortunate blonde Russian.

       “Play nicely. I would tell you to be quick, but … you will be.” She turned to Rosa, still grasping her ankles and pumping her backside back and forth. “Honey, you can stand up now. These nice men are going to take you next door to rape you before we catch our flight. There’s no need to worry. I doubt you’ll feel a thing. I’m going to the café for another cinnamon roll. Shower after you’re done, boys. I’ll be sitting next to you all the way to Washington.”

       Major Roberta Linhart left for a coffee and a treat in the cafeteria while her two captains led Rosa away to enjoy thirty frantic minutes of savage anal rape.

The Foundation

18

The Dawn of Cindy Moundlicker

Rosa stepped out into the pale daylight of the courtyard. It was a cool day, with grey clouds and a fresh breeze running through the prison. The threat of rain, however, would not dampen the anticipation of the crowd that she knew would be waiting for her in the town square. She was about to complete her descent to a depraved and shameless sex slave, with Pamela inflicting a series of degrading and humiliating tortures that would end all hope of a return to her former life.

Six women in uniform stood in the courtyard, surveying Rosa as she stood naked before them. One of the women was holding a video recorder, so that the day’s cruelties would be preserved for future entertainment, probably for Pamela and Daphne to enjoy as they lounged by the pool in their new house on the edge of Houston. The young woman holding the camera was her tormentor from the previous week, Henderson. She moved closer, grinning with delight into the viewer as she filmed Rosa.

       “Now, slave. Let everyone see your pussy. Display.” Henderson gazed into the viewfinder. “A little wider please, Miss Ortiz.” Her feet shuffled in the gravel as she sank lower. “I would like to see you play with those magnificent tits. That’s good. Show everyone what you are. What are you?”

“I’m a slut whore who wants her arse raped.”

“Well, I think we’ll be able to oblige you today. Your carriage awaits.”

Two women stepped aside to reveal Rosa’s vehicle for the day’s parade, a device on wheels with foot clamps above her head and two planks for her buttocks. Rosa was to be paraded through the town with her vagina and anus on display and her ankles strapped above her shoulders.

“Wendy, are you getting all this?” Tanya asked.

“Every second. Come on, bitch, get up on your saddle and let’s ride into town.”

The others backed away as Wendy circled the device to capture Rosa as she mounted her ‘ride’ for the day. She snapped her fingers for the prisoner to look at the camera as she was fastened by the ankles with her hands chained to a bar below her back.

“How does it feel to be a sex slave?” Wendy asked, but there was no answer. “Ready to get your arse ravaged for the next fifteen years. Imagine. Five thousand days of this.” Rosa turned away, but Tanya grasped her head to face the lens.

“You can have no shame now, fuckmeat,” Tanya told her. “Your arsehole and your pussy belong to The Foundation. Now you’re just a naked sex slave, our sex slave, and you’re about to perform for us. You’ll be the star of the show.”

Tanya began once more to lecture her students while they stood over Rosa, examining the mechanism of her bondage device. Tanya explained the features of ‘the yoke’ and how each one degraded and tormented the prisoner, using Rosa to demonstrate the full range of suffering available to a callous guard. One of the women lifted Rosa’s buttock for a clearer view of the wrist fetters. She dug her flesh into Rosa’s flesh as she tried to lift her higher, forcing a muted groan from the prisoner. Their eyes met, but the student guard continued her study of the cuffs.

Everyone turned to the door at the far end of the yard as Pamela appeared in her new uniform. Black boots reaching to the knees were complemented by dark blue tight leggings that accentuated Pamela’s strong legs and her plump backside, developed courtesy of Dr Cartwright’s scorpion venom. The white blouse covered her ample bosom, and the cap and sunglasses offered an image of sexual authority. Carmel had almost copied the porn film version for The Foundation’s new uniform.

       “Miss Clayton is modeling the new outfit that we will all be wearing when we move to Houston. She will now take the subject into the town square, where the torture event will occur.”

       The students left Pamela alone in the yard with Rosa. The guard circled the former sheriff, enjoying a close examination of her bonds and the wounds that still decorated her rump, back and thighs. She slipped a bright red gag into her mouth and employed her baton for a few moments of anal torture before tightening the cuffs and drawing the ankles even higher above Rosa’s head.

“You told me, the day you nearly killed Pandora Kinky, you were the law in this county, and you could do anything. Well, now your time has come. Have you heard of the word schadenfreude? I doubt it. It’s a German word meaning taking pleasure from the misfortune of others. Well, Rosa, I have to tell you that my knickers are soaked from schadenfreude right now. We’re going to take you lower than you ever thought possible. Your savage beatings cannot compare to the suffering that awaits you over the next fortnight. Be strong, be very strong. You’ll need it. Do you like your new name? I chose it myself. Cindy Moundlicker. Daphne loves it, because you were so good at licking her pussy, but now I’m the one eating her every night.”

Rosa was hauled through the prison on her indecent trolley and attached to the back of a van for the perilous journey along the dirt road leading from the prison until Pamela drew to a halt at the end of Lampeter Street, the main road leading into the town square. The procession had already begun as Pamela rolled Rosa through the outskirts of town. Ahead, the guards were strolling along the road, waving to the crowd as they led the bondage whores by their leashes, delivering the occasional strike to the applause of the crowd.

“Everyone is going to enjoy looking at your enormous pussy. It must be so degrading to have your naked body on display. You’re no more than an animal now, my pet, to be used as a sex slave for abuse and humiliating bondage torture. Shall we let everyone know you’re nothing but a depraved slut who loves humiliation and sadistic sex. I am going to release your hands and you will either be playing with your holes or fondling your breasts. If for one second you are not pawing your body with your hands …” Pamela only smiled, but it was enough.

The bonds around her hands were loosened and Rosa immediately began to massage her breasts, even though the scorpion venom still left them feeling tender. The crowd was thickening now as they approached the town square where Rosa could see the flags and the pennants flying from the bandstand in the middle of the rose garden. Pamela was waving to the crowd and exchanged a few shouted words with some of the locals.

“Oh, it’s Mr and Mrs Harkins. I really must go over to say goodbye.”

Rosa’s cart came to a halt in the road while Pamela chatted with the Harkins. She heard them approach.

“Come over and have a look.”

“So this is one of your convicts.”

Rosa began to forcefully stroke her lips, drawing them apart to force her fingers into the flesh.

“Oh my, Miss Clayton, such a scene. Is there any hope for this sinner?”

“Sadly, I am not optimistic, Mrs Harkins, but I can assure you that I will leave no stone unturned.”

“We don’t deserve you, Miss Clayton.” Pamela offered a smile of gratitude for her kind words.

“Be careful Miss,” commented Mr Harkins. “This one here might start a fire if she rubs any harder.”

“Yes, I have to say that she is one of our most … corrupt convicts.” A touch of her button produced a shock through Rosa’s anus, a squeal and a more frenzied rubbing of the genitals. “There is very little that she will not do or say, which explains why she is wearing a gag. The language, Mr Harkins, the language.” Pamela shook her head to express her disappointment at the sordid performance of the naked prisoner.

“There’ll be quite a shine on that young lady’s privates by the time she’s finished her polishing.”

“I’m surprised that you don’t recognise our guest.” The Harkins exchanged a glance.

“I’m sorry Miss Clayton, but I’ve not been associating with whores, at least not this week.” All three laughed at Mr Harkin’s joke.

“Take a good look. She’s someone you know, or thought you knew, quite well. Someone who betrayed your trust, and the trust of everyone in Harmon County.”

“Good grief. It is her, it’s Sheriff Ortiz.”

“Former sheriff, Mrs Harkins. Actually, we’ve decided to change her name to Cindy Moundlicker. We think it suits her.”

Mrs Harkins leant down into Rosa’s face.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Trying to sell drugs to our children.”

“Why confine yourself to words, Mrs Harkins.” Pamela handed the irate Town Councillor an electric baton to strike Rosa on the thighs, the genitals and, in one last gesture of righteous indignation, thrust the baton into her exposed anus. Rosa shuddered from the pain, rocking the trolley in agony until Pamela removed the plug.

“They’ll be plenty of time for that over the next few days.”

       Pamela pushed Rosa into the town square, where she saw the bunting in royal blue and white surrounding the small stage. Even from the other side of the square she could see there was only one set of stocks on the stage. She was to be the star of the show.

       As they rolled towards the stage a handful of local women recognized the naked woman bound into the trolley. They drew near to shout obscenities and threats as she passed.  More and more people left the roadside to assail Rosa who, tormented by the buzzer in Pamela’s pocket, was still fervently masturbating. It was only a matter of time before the words became blows. A punch to the mouth was followed by a fist into her anus. The crowd then decided to shower her in spit as she approached the gates.

Pamela slowed almost to a halt through the park to allow the crowd to vent their anger. It was a painful and demeaning three minutes before Rosa ended her journey to a chorus of jeers. She was brought onto the stage and placed in the stocks, covered in spit and sporting a couple of bruises on each cheek. Pamela eventually quietened the agitated crowd.

“People of Harmon, on behalf of The Foundation I would like to thank you for coming here today to send us on our way to Houston. We leave behind precious memories of your support over the past two years, and we can assure you that Harmon will remain forever a part of The Foundation.” Cheers rang out across the assembly filling the lawn. Pamela turned to Rosa. “We believe that now is the right time to send a message across the great state of Texas and, we hope, across our blessed United States. We have decided to conclude this wonderful event with “One Hundred and Twenty Hours of Sodomy” for the people of Harmon. Our star will be someone you thought you knew. Now she has changed her name. She wants to be known as Cindy Moundlicker.” Shouts of abuse and beer cans greeted Rosa’s introduction. “Cindy has decided that she wants to become a hardcore porn star, making lots of money by selling her body. However, we feel that Cindy’s outrageous lust can be used to serve others rather than gratify herself.”

A small middle aged woman with greying hair and a long green skirt walked onto the stage, her handbag close by her side. She shook hands with Pamela and announced into the microphone that she had asked Miss De Bois to allow the people of Harmon to set an example that would inspire others to take a stand against drugs. Therefore, to demonstrate their determination to combat drugs on their streets and in their schools, they were going to bugger their former sheriff for one hundred and twenty hours, or ten days. Pamela turned to look at Rosa in her fetters. Her blank expression did not change, but her legs quivered at the news of the dismal ordeal that lay ahead for Cindy Moundlicker.

The Foundation

19

Sending a Message

“Good afternoon, this is Bethany Carmichael for the Samantha Tannon Show, reporting from Harmon County here in the great state of Texas. The people of Harmon decided that talking about taking a stand against drugs was not enough when they discovered that their former sheriff, Rosa Ortiz, was selling drugs to their children. They decided, in their own words, to send a message by maintaining a constant sodomy of the convict whore for the past ten days. We’ll be back later for the conclusion of this noble effort. How was that?”

“Fine, but we need more noise from the sheriff.”

“Former sheriff.” Pamela corrected the young man with the green baseball cap.

“You want to go again?” The producer recognised a trace of annoyance in his girlfriend’s voice.

“Honey, you were fine. No, you were great. It’s just the prisoner. We’re not getting enough …. enough … degradation.”

“She’s been fucked in the arse for the past one hundred and eighteen hours and she’s about to get buggered live on television. How much more degrading can that get? Isn’t that right sister?” Bethany turned to the face no more than six inches away, but Rosa was staring past the reporter crouching beside her in the stocks. “Could you possibly cry, or at least give us a groan? We would be grateful.”

“Miss, if you want her to groan, I can make her groan.”

“Could you, Miss Clayton? That would be great.”

“Please move back. Clear away, Mrs Portkin. I’m giving the whore some juice.”

The first electric shock jolted Rosa in her shackles and the second shock opened her bowels, to disgusted cries from Mrs Portkin and her sister.

“How degrading was that?” Bethany asked.

“I’m not getting any moans,” the sound engineer complained. “It’s not coming through on Bethany’s piece.”

“Groan, bitch, or I’ll fry your pussy.”

Rosa released a low groan through her bright red gag.

“You can do better than that,” Bethany insisted and another touch from Pamela’s baton brought forth a whimper that earned a raised thumb from the sound engineer.

“Great. Now every time I squeeze your nipple, I want a nice clear moan. Lift your head, dear, and grit your teeth. We want all the disgrace, all the shame, on camera. Now, one rehearsal and then we go.” Bethany tweaked the nipple and Rosa uttered a pathetic sob. “Great, now in three, two and one. Good afternoon, this is Bethany Carmichael …”

The abuse of Rosa Ortiz had developed from a minor publicity stunt into a media event. Two other stations were carrying the story, and journalists from around the state had come to interview all concerned except Rosa, who was unavailable for comment due to the gag in her mouth.

A vigil atmosphere swiftly developed, and visitors came from other counties, even across the state line, to visit Harmon and offer their support. By the final weekend there were commemorative shirts, with a picture of Rosa in the stocks and the slogan I Sent A Message in Foundation dark blue. Young and old queued for a photograph taken standing beside Rosa, and viral messages ensured that ‘One Hundred and Twenty Days of Sodomy’ became an internet sensation, at least for a couple of days.

Bethany Carmichael searched for more background material, because Harmon County’s ‘One Hundred and Twenty Hours of Sodomy’ would be featuring in a later show when De Bois would appear in the studio. A matron of more than fifty years sat on a chair behind Rosa, pounding her anus with a dildo.

       “You must be exhausted.”

“I have to be here, for my grandchildren. We can’t let these drug criminals take over our schools. The men have gone to work, so it’s up to us women to make sure that we send out the message.”

The production assistant, a young Canadian intern called Cherise, lead three firemen onto the stage.

“You’ll like this,” she told Bethany. “There was a thunderstorm on Friday night, nothing drastic, but too rough for the three old women who had volunteered to sit up until five buggering our friend here. They were trying to keep going, but the wind and the rain. Well, anyway. These fine young men offered to take their places and keep the vigil going.”

“Heroes of Harmon.” Bethany liked her title.

“Well, you see Miss …”

“Carmichael, but you can call me Bethany.”

“Bethany, we just wanted to make sure the message was not lost. We wanted to do our bit.”

“It must have been cold out here in the storm.”

“We wore our thick jackets, but it was a touch chilly after an hour or so.”

       “Do you and your colleagues have the time to do your bit again for the cameras?”

       The firemen obliged by vigorously pounding Rosa, provoking a low moan that was avidly recorded by the cameraman.

       “Do you mind doing that again?” Cherise asked the fireman. “You have such powerful arms.” She could not resist pressing his bicep. They exchanged a smile and he took hold of the stocks to vehemently drive the plug into his victim.

“How’s that, Pascal?” There was a muffled scream and Pascal lifted another thumb in appreciation of the fireman’s efforts.

       Ten minutes before the network show was due to transfer live to Harmon a line of women dressed only in dark blue vests advertising The Foundation’s website and tight black thongs marched onto the stage, their heels clattering against the rough planks, to adopt the standard Foundation pose. Bethany left Rosa to her torment to examine the legendary superwhores. As she passed each prisoner they rubbed their breast or thrust out their thronged crotch. One or two even reach into their thongs to touch their vagina lips. A prison guard approached as Bethany ended her inspection.

       “Anything take your fancy, Miss Carmichael?”

       “I’m not a lesbian, and there’s no way I would get involved with these sluts. How can they even stand like that, in public? They have no shame. I would rather die.”

       “Well, Miss Carmichael, perfecting these prisoners to become superwhores, willing and able to perform an extensive range of sexual services, takes many months of rigorous training.”

“I doubt that. They’re whores and they’ve always been whores. I don’t buy the superwhore nonsense. You’ve just given them huge tits. If they had any worth, any value, they would refuse to perform.”

Tanya offered a bland smile, but she was furious that the young reporter should question her dedication and her skill in transforming these young women into shameless sex slaves.

When the network show went live to Harmon Pascal modestly avoided showing the grandmothers buggering Rosa, but the sound engineer caught both the grunts of the former sheriff and the delicious fluid sound of the anal violation. The viewers enjoyed more footage of Rosa’s disgraced and tormented face, and the local councillor wielding the plug obliged the host’s request to give some extra hard thrusts to shake the stocks and secure another demeaning grunt.

After the football stars, wrestlers, local politicians and the latest Country and Western sensation - who sang her forthcoming release after her bout of sodomy - the marathon ended with Mrs Harriet Thompson, who first proposed the epic buggery of their former sheriff. So, for the final five minutes, Mrs Thompson sat behind Rosa thrusting the wide metal dildo into her anus, her ravaging interrupted by camera calls, and an interview with Samantha Tannon herself live from New York.

The countdown began and the crowd shouted out the final ten seconds before fireworks, courtesy of the network station, decorated the grey Harmon sky. Mrs Thompson left the stage carrying a bouquet from the Mayor to the cheers of her friends and neighbours. Now there was only Rosa and Pamela.

       Rosa, after ten days in the stocks, was barely able to move as she stood before the braying crowd, her hands and neck still chained to the pole. Pamela took hold of the rod, turned Rosa around and bent her over to allow the audience, the photographers and the people of America a view of her devastated anus. Her gaping hole, her thighs and vagina were all crimson raw from the damage of the past ten days. A round of applause greeting the presentation of Rosa’s battered and tortured body.

       “No, we want to thank you,” Pamela announced from the stage. “You’ve really sent a message to those who try to corrupt our children.”

       The ceremony concluded with a further hundred doses of the electric plug, administered by various celebrities, including Ms Carmichael. Finally, amidst a chorus of catcalls, Rosa was led from the stage for three laps of dishonour of the town square chained to the rear bumper of a van to allow the crowd a last opportunity to abuse their former sheriff before she began the long and painful journey to her new home.

The crowd was already beginning to disperse, and the television crew had dismantled their lights, before the van rolled out of the square. However, Pascal walked out into the road for a last ‘artistic’ shot of Rosa running chained and naked behind the van. He filmed her melting into the distance, and he kept the camera rolling until she was no more than a pink dot on the horizon.

The Foundation

20

T’is Pity He’s a Whore

The iron gates parted without a sound to reveal a young woman in jeans and a smart grey jacket standing on the gravel. She stepped forward with a handshake and a smile.

“Hi, you must be Verity. I’m Morgana. Welcome to The Foundation Studios. I hope you’ve seen the video we sent last week. It will have given you some idea of what we do here.”

“I did. It was pretty ... intense.”

“That’s one word for it. We didn’t intend to shock, but your predecessor only lasted three days. She was unsettled by what she saw here. You need to know the nature of our work if you’re going to work for The Foundation.”

“No. It was fine. I’ve worked on a few adult productions in Chicago, and Gilda told me that working here would be a great experience. I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

“Well, let’s begin with a brief tour of the studio, and then I can show you where you will be working.”

They began their visit in the stock room, where Morgana showed her guest dozens of racks of costumes.

“We have a wide selection of historical clothing, from ancient Rome to sixties London. The costumes do not remain on our ... performers for long, but Miss De Bois wants a high level of quality for the productions. This is fairly standard for a film set, but I doubt you’ve ever seen anything like this.”

Morgana led Verity to the back of the stock room to see six girls chained to the far wall, held in place by their neck and ankles. All were naked and there appeared to be red stains on the vagina and anus. The young women conveyed a sullen resignation as they sat in the gloom. 

“They call it the meat rack. They collect performers from here if there has been a change of script or the director is not happy with a convict. The key point to remember is the term they use to describe these ... performers. They call them fuckmeat. The best way to cope is to pretend either that they enjoy being treated like this, or they don’t mind because they are beyond shame. That’s what gets me through the day. All these prisoners have been convicted of crimes, and are here to serve their sentence. They make money, for us, by performing in violent, painful and degrading porn films. That, Verity, is what we do here. I try not to harm them, but most of the men, and quite a few of the women, treat them like dogs.”

Verity moved closer to see that all six women were trembling because they were carrying red vibrators in both holes. The drone of batteries told her that the devices were pulsing within the prisoners. One began to stir as her breathing quickened and Verity watched the young woman quiver for a few seconds before a revealing trail of fluid rolled down her inner thigh.

“They keep them permanently aroused, so that they can be used on the set at a moment’s notice. The Kiriko also helps. It’s a drink that … well it keeps them horny for hours. Sounds great, but actually they find it exhausting, which is why we rotate the performers.”

The door opened and two men strolled through the racks to the shadows at the back of the room. They greeted the two women, one casting an alluring gaze at young Verity, as they passed along the row of bound whores. The man in the blue shirt came to a halt by a petite blonde who avoided his stare. He untied the neck brace and knelt down to remove the ankle cuffs. He offered Morgana a childish grin as he led the girl to the table in the shadows.

“Ladies, please. A gentlemen deserves his privacy.”

“You’re no gentleman, Harry Costello, but anyway, we’re leaving.”

“Morgana Clark, a hard working man is entitled to a bit of anal bondage rape in his lunchtime. If you want to join us, I’d be happy to … Oh shit, why do these whores have to be so messy. Everytime you unplug them they go all over the carpet.”

“Stick a plug up your arse for six hours and see what happens.”

Costello’s companion rolled up his sleeve and thrust his hand into his whore, a short Latina brunette. There was a slight moan, but no other reaction from the young woman as the man forced his fist further into her anus before pumping his hand back and forth. Verity knew that she had to become accustomed to these violations, so she remained by the table to watch the whore grasp her knees as the force of the anal abuse increased towards a brutal pounding. Verity wondered how the whore felt, enduring cruel abuse and being treated like an animal while another woman casually observed her suffering. She shuddered at the cold desperate look of the young woman and left to join Morgana by the door.

“Paul only ever fucks them with his fist. I think that’s perverse, don’t you.”

“I think you’re both heartless bastards.”

“Feeling sorry for these whores? I don’t think Miss Benson, or Miss De Bois, will be happy with your message for the new recruit.” There was no reply from Morgana as Costello rolled down his pants and mounted his captive with a theatrical sigh followed by the scrapping sound of moving table legs.

“There’s a special treat for you in the cafeteria.”

“Jam Roll for desert?”

“Even better. They’ve put Ramon on display again.”

Morgana took Verity’s arm.

“Come. Let’s go. This is something you will want to see.”

Morgana led her into the bright, clean and spacious cafeteria to see a naked man chained by his hands and feet to the far wall. He was good looking, with clear blue eyes and a firm body, but his most notable feature was his enormous penis. Verity had never seen such a monstrous cock and moved closer to examine the man’s magnificent equipment. She noticed that the other diners barely glanced at the bound man in shackles displayed only feet from their plates.

“It really is fantastic. They say it’s seventeen inches, but I have my doubts.”

“Has no one measured it?”

“If you go within ten yards of Ramon with a measuring tape, you’ll be out within the day. Orders from De Bois. She’s very protective of her pet.” Ramon smiled at both women and rose on his heels to offer a closer look at his tool.

“I’ve never had the pleasure, but last week Rhonna slipped onto the prison van going back and rode him all the way to the other side of Houston. They got stuck in rush hour traffic. Forty five minutes. She couldn’t sit down for three days.” All three smiled at Morgana’s tale.

“Ramon is here to entertain the straight ladies. The men and the lesbians have naked flesh on offer all day. We only have Ramon and that shit, Ulysses. Talk of the fucking devil.”

The door opened on a man in a dark blue dressing gown flanked by two raven haired women in tight black leotards and high boots.

“The criminal’s here.” He looked with disdain at Ramon’s erection. “Girls, have you met this piece of Mexican rough trade.” One of the girls took hold of his foreskin as if shaking hands.

“Pleased to meet you,” she giggled in an east European accent. Her companion was less generous, digging her nail into the shaft.

“Thank you, Miss, but we leave the performances for when the cameras are rolling.” Morgana’s voice was low, but forceful.

“I heard this flesh is on offer.”

“Not this particular piece of meat. It’s reserved, as Miss De Bois will explain.”

Carmel appeared at the far end of the cafeteria and marched briskly across the room towards the three porn stars.

“May I help you?” Even Verity sensed the anger, but also the unease, from the Director.

“I just enjoying view.”

“You may look, but you may not touch. This item is a valuable commodity, and he does not, currently, belong to The Foundation.” Morgana and Verity both noticed the glance at the bound whore on the wall at the word “currently” and Verity thought he offered a slight smile.

Ulysses placed a hand on the first woman’s shoulder.

“It’s alright Yelena, Carmel likes to look after her pets, and she has developed a … fascination for this Mexican peasant. Carmel, I don’t think you’ve met the Rozanov Sisters.” The three women stared at one another in malevolent silence. Carmel surveyed the two sadistic porn stars, both standing hands on hips as they scowled at the Director. They had spent so long playing the dominatrix role they had lost sight of their true place in The Foundation, which was only one step above the bondage whores they ruthlessly tortured for the cameras. Carmel knew that the time had come to end their pretensions, and she could not avoid a smile as she thought of the fate that awaited all three of her guests.

“They’re actually cousins, but the idea of Russian lesbian sister lovers who torture their victims is just box office gold.”

“We thought Texas would be nice change from LA.”

“It’s a change for you to be working. I spoke to your agent last week. You’ve not worked for four months, and your last three DVDs did not make their target sales.” The smirks on both porn actresses faded slightly, thought they did not change their arrogant pose.

“Who do we have to fuck to get our hands on this piece of meat?” Ulysses asked.

Yelena touched the tip of Ramon’s member with her finger and offered him a wink.

“That would be me, and the answer is no. We have a schedule for him, and he is returning to his prison at six thirty sharp.”

“Shame. I want him dancing with electric baton. Another time.”

“Come girls, let’s leave Carmel to her criminal whore. We’ll dine in my dressing room.”

Carmel glared at the three figures until the door swung closed behind them.

“Did they cut you?” Verity noticed the softer tone as she turned to the prisoner fastened to the wall. He shook his head. Carmel glowered at the two women, a face of iron.

“I only came to look, I swear,” Morgana pleaded.

“They did try to stop them.”

“I only came to have a look. This is my first day here and … well. Who wouldn’t?” Verity could not avoid a giggle and Carmel smiled. “He is very … impressive, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Why would I …?” Carmel did not ask her question. “I won’t let those bitches touch him, but you can, if you handle him with care.”

“Do you mind?” The question was for Ramon.

“No, Mistress. My pleasure.”

Verity touched the shaft, about six inches from the tip.

“It’s not like wood, it feels like iron. Your skin is hot. Does it hurt?” He shook his head “The skin’s dry,” she told Carmel. “I think he needs some cream or the skin will break.”

“It’s the lights and these sluts licking him until their tongues are sore.”

Verity enjoyed another prolonged stroke of the warm, hard flesh before leaving the bound whore and the Director alone.

Carmel was studying her final letter of the day when a shadow appeared at the glass door. Ulysses Winchester – Harper entered without knocking and strode into the room. Carmel pretended to be searching her drawer to leave him standing before her. Eventually she looked up to see him dressed in a crimson thong, the fabric taut against his burgeoning erection.

Carmel was impressed, but she refused to look up at the face she knew would be smirking at the faintest sign of her interest.

“Good evening, Carmel. I thought, at the end of a long hard day, you deserved a treat.”

“Mister Winchester – Harper, I have already had my treat. An hour ago I had the pleasure of a visit from Senor Hernandez. I can assure you that twenty minutes in his company has completely satisfied my appetite. As you can see, I have to sit on a cushion after the pounding from Ramrod Ramon. So, I will have to decline your … generous offer.”

Carmel took her pen from the table and returned to her letter. After a moment she looked up to see Ulysses, still offering an enigmatic smile. Carmel could not decide whether this porn star was very stupid or simply thought himself irresistible to women.

“I hope I have made myself clear, Mister Winchester – Harper.”

He replied with another smile and moved even closer, drawing down his thong to reveal an impressive erection. Carmel leant back in her chair and crossed her arms in a show of irritation that seemed lost on the porn star as he began to stroke his shaft.

“Mister Winchester – Harper, I want you to put that away and leave my office.”

“Your piece of Mexican whoremeat should be careful. I know enough men inside who would love to rip apart his arsehole. It’s a pity, for you, he’s a convict whore. You can’t protect him in prison.” Ulysses stepped out of his thong and left her office completely naked. The door hung open, but Carmel immediately picked up her phone.

“Hector, we have a problem.”

The Foundation

21

Public Exposure

“I can see her cunt.” The man wearing the headphones draped around his neck leant down to inspect the whore’s tight white underwear. The convict offered him a mild smile and thrust forward her vagina, as if to ease the man’s irritation.

“Are you sure?” Pamela Clayton pretended to peer at the convict’s pubic mound.

“I know a cunt when I see one, and I’m looking at one right now.”

“It’s only the impression of her genitalia,” Pamela lied. The vagina was shaven, but the scanty cloth could not obscure the two bulging lips. 

“No, it is her … genitalia. You can see the cameltoe. She can’t appear on afternoon television wearing that outfit.”

“What about their breasts? Mr Atkins, you can see more flesh on a public beach.” Pamela and the producer both examined the dark blue singlet barely covering the upper half of the woman’s breasts with the address of The Foundation’s website running from erect nipple to erect nipple. The whore thrust her chest forward, as if to advertise The Foundation’s services to Atkins, running her hands along the underside of her breasts and cupping them as a present for him.

“You can have the free advert, but we also need to secure those sling bikinis. I’ll not have one of those huge breasts tumble out into view on my show. There may be children watching.”

The appearance of Carmel De Bois on the Samantha Tannon Show had caused major concerns for the producers, most notably the role of the bondage whores on a family show. The Foundation’s management had insisted upon at least a dozen convicts on the stage, and the rehearsal brought another round of skirmishes with Atkins, who insisted upon the girls standing out of camera shot during the interview. He was adamant that the girls were to remain still during the broadcast and there were to be no pelvic thrusts. Pamela, to earn a few close shots of the girls, compromised by changing the white thongs for safer black outfits.

       Eventually, a troubled peace was established between Pamela and Atkins, fearful of a very expensive lawsuit from an outraged viewer. The convicts would wear the short tops and black thongs while the sling bikinis would be secured to the nipples by clamps. There would be twelve convicts on the stage, but they would be out of shot and would remain still throughout the interview. They shook hands on the agreement in a symbolic gesture of amity.

“Now, to seal the deal, we’ll take two whores.”

“Of course, Mr Atkins, take your pick.”

The producer strolled along the line of women before tapping a tall brunette in a sling bikini on the shoulder. He touched the arm of one of the blonde whores in her black thong and asked her to step off the stage.

“A blonde and a brunette, to suit all tastes.”

Atkins insisted upon binding the two whores despite Pamela’s promise that they would indulge in any act without hesitation.

“I know, but I think in chains they’re more … alluring.”

“I am sorry that our whores are insufficiently attractive for you, Mr Atkins.”

He only smiled as the shackles were fastened to the wrists and elbows. Pamela draped the keys over the necks of the convicts.

“Please don’t lose the keys. It’s ten dollars to replace each lock.”

Atkins took hold of the binding of the bikini costume and drew the straps tight between the whore’s buttocks, forcing her to part her legs as she uttered a muffled gasp of pain. He then left, holding the lacing in his fist as he led the girl away, the blonde in the thong drawn by the leash attached to her neck.

Pamela studied the whores on display, followed by Tanya tapping her baton.

“You sluts will smile ‘til it hurts, and when Miss De Bois walks down those stairs you will applaud as if your life depended on it. Now, practice your performance, and no mistakes, or it will be a month in the Consequence House.”

The whores rehearsed their entry, standing either side of the steps and unleashing a torrent of applause as Wendy treaded carefully down the stairs. Only after the third practice was Pamela convinced that they knew their positions and their roles and sent them to the prison van to await her call.

Meanwhile, Carmel sat in the large chair as the two ‘cosmetic consultants’ smoothed her cheeks with powder.

“You have great skin, Miss De Bois, but out on stage in front of the cameras the definition will disappear. You’ll have a moon face and that just won’t do.”

The sound of grunts and gasps drifted along the corridor. The studio’s workers were clearly enjoying The Foundation’s gift of two whores.

“Those whores are taking a terrible pounding. When I left they were trying to get a baseball bat up her arse. That must hurt.”

“It’s meant to hurt,” Carmel explained. “The purpose of these bondage whores is to allow men to indulge their darkest thoughts, to act out their basest desires.”

“Actually, it was the girls with the baseball bat, up the backside of that pretty brunette with long legs.”

“That’s to be expected,” her partner explained, shading Carmel’s eyes with thick black pencil. “If you’re cute with big tits you’re gonna get your arse ripped apart by those production girls. Jealousy, nothing but jealousy.”

“How can you be jealous of a bondage whore? They’re treated like animals, sex slaves, beaten and tortured just for kicks.”

“Would you be happy walking in there to find Doug mounting one of those whores?”

“No. It would be the same if I caught him wanking. Why not just do it with me?” The sound of the abuse grew louder.

“Someone’s giving her a good shafting.”

“Lucky girl.”

Twenty minutes later, Carmel walked down onto the stage, the flight of stairs decorated on either side by convicts loudly applauding her appearance and offering effusive smiles for the camera. A few minutes later they would passionately greet the arrival of Pamela, Tanya and Wendy in their uniforms, acclaiming the three women who had brutally tortured, humiliated and degraded them for the past year, transforming them into demeaned whores condemned to a life of sexual slavery. 

Once the three prison officers were in place by the stairs the interview began with Samantha leaning forward in her familiar interrogatory pose. However, there were no harsh questions, and only a few awkward moments when Samantha addressed a handful of hesitant convicts at the back of the stage. The host also turned her attention to the guards, provoking raucous shouts from the handful of men in the audience. Wendy attracted special interest from the spectators, and her comment that she was serving her country by disciplining these criminal whores brought forth a wave of patriotic applause. The show ended with the twelve whores standing at the front of the stage, hands on hips before an approving audience.

An hour later, Samantha left her dressing room to bid farewell to Carmel and the three guards, bringing along the bound whore who had allowed Samantha to visit both her holes with an assortment of vibrators. The whore was now devoid of clothes as she tottered behind the celebrity, the largest tool still sunk deep into her anus.

“I’m sorry, it seems to be stuck.” Samantha offered only a meek smile as she turned the whore to show the offending bright green plug.

“Don’t worry, Miss Tannon,” Carmel replied. “We’ve lots of experience of extracting our toys. Even our girls, bless them, can only take so much.”

“Shameless. They use the word, but this one really has no dignity at all. Victoria and I had her performing the most … disgraceful acts, and all I heard was how much she loved all this. You are to be applauded for your efforts. I can’t imagine it’s easy getting them to sink so low.” She placed a hand on the exposed plug and twisted the tube, provoking a whimper from the whore.

“Miss Tannon, we work hard and we know what we’re doing. I can assure you that it takes months of consistent effort to take this specimen and transform her into a base bondage whore. If you would …”

“A whore is a whore is … a whore.” Carmel turned to see Bethany Carmichael standing by the stage door. “Anyone can turn these pathetic criminals into obedient whores.”

“Bethany, my dear, I was not aware that we had the pleasure. I thought you were roving somewhere in … Idaho?”

“Victor asked me to see him about an … interesting proposal.”

Carmel noticed the tension between the two women as Bethany strolled across the hall to examine the bound whore, writhing from the plug buried in her anus.

“You can easily get these wretched sluts to do anything.” Bethany was looking at Samantha, a glance of contempt and disdain, so she missed the agitated glares from the three guards and the Director. This was not the first time the reporter had questioned the talents of The Foundation’s staff.

       Samantha chose to ignore her reporter and turned to the guards in their tight outfits.

“Did you know that we’re taking as many calls and email messages about you girls as we are about the whores?”

“I think it must be all those submissive men who want to be dominated by strong women,” Pamela replied, though she was flattered by the comment.

“It’s a shame there are only female prisoners available. Is there any chance that you might find some male criminals worthy of the same experience? I doubt I’m the only woman interested in seeing some male beef out there on the studio floor, wearing not much more than a smile.” She noticed Pamela and Carmel exchange a look before both women smiled.

“Miss Tannon,” Carmel replied. “We’ve been looking at the prospect of expanding our repertoire of artists for some time. We current have a few male guests at our studio who, we feel, may wish to extend their stay with us.”

“You can earn a lot of money if you can get your hands on some high quality hunks. I’ll be one of the first in line. I hear that Ramrod Ramon is spending a lot of time at The Foundation. I’m a devoted admirer of his work.”

“Senor Hernandez will, hopefully, be permanently joining us soon, but there are some other gentlemen who will also be serving The Foundation.”

“Don’t forget me when you decide to offer their services.”

       “I promise you will have a special invitation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’ll get those whores in the van and we’ll go home.”

The Foundation

22

Hard Work

The guards had dressed Ramon in a simple grey outfit for his trip to The Foundation, but Tanya and Wendy dispensed with his clothing, tossing the rags to the ground to leave him naked before everyone gathered in the prison yard.

“You won’t be needing clothes at The Foundation,” Wendy told him, stroking his member to emphasis her point.

She knew that the guards were staring at her costume of tight dark blue leggings and black boots, but she was happy to parade herself after watching countless men lust after the depraved and perverted whores she enjoyed tormenting in the prison’s cells. The reaction of the audience at the Samantha Tannon show had alerted Wendy to her appeal and she was eager to exploit her attraction. So, she took her time securing the chains on the prisoner, drawing the straps between his legs to secure his neck.

The fifty mile journey lasted more than ninety minutes as Wendy left Tanya at the wheel to enjoy herself at the expense of the Ramrod. His erect member was a toy in her hot hands, growing larger and harder with each caress. She denied him the chance to expel his load, but there was still a great deal of pleasure available in the back of the prison van. Tanya parked by the roadside and joined her to insert a baton into his anus for no reason other than a desire to make the stud grunt in pain.

       Eventually the trio arrived at The Foundation’s new building, where Ramon was due to be one of the special ‘entertainers’ for the following weeks’ opening ceremony. Wendy’s teasing had left Ramon fully erect by the time he stepped out into the sunlight, so his cock attracted the attention of the guards and the secretaries as he was led into the main office to stand, legs apart, in front of the reception desk. Tanya removed his chains, but left him standing with his hands on his hips, smiling at the absurdity of the pose for a naked sex slave. He remained there for more than an hour, prey to the occasional stroke of his member and a touch of his backside, no more than a docile ornament to please the staff.

       An hour later, Tanya returned from her lunch to continue the preparation of The Foundation’s newest purchase, leading him into one of the many ‘examination’ cells in the newly built prison. The freshly painted white walls were adorned with bars and shackles, and a small trolley decorated with metal spikes, electrical prods and vibrators waited in a corner. One wall bore a mirror.

“Do you know why you are here, slave?”

“No, Mistress.”

“You are here to serve The Foundation, to serve us, to serve me. Is that clear?” Tanya rolled her baton, the baton she had thrust into his anus only two hours before, along his buttocks. She set the baton down in favour of a cane and administered thirty lashes, making her victim count each stroke.

“Do you know why I just did that?”

“No, Mistress.”

“No reason at all. I merely wished to inflict pain, to demonstrate that there is nothing you can do to protect yourself from me and The Foundation, nothing except to submit to our will and perform every demeaning and degrading task. Is that clear?

“Yes, Mistress.”

“How do you avoid pain?”

“Following your every command, Mistress.”

“Good slave. Now, I have a gift for you.”

She reached into a bag to draw out a crimson bundle. She unfolded the cloth to reveal a thong.

“Mistress De Bois has instructed you to wear this for your appearances.” She slipped him into the outfit, drawing the straps tight over his shoulders to gouge the lining between his buttocks. Tanya led Ramon to a mirror to enjoy the spectacle of his bright red thong. Tanya reached down to cradle the mound stretching against the cloth.

“That package is going to make us a lot of money. Your cock is ours now. Look at those lovely cane marks on you backside. That tells everyone that you’re a slave, a sex slave presented for abuse and torture at any moment. The Mistress wants to see you in this all the time. Paraded in this, you really are nothing but a sex toy.”

The door opened on Wendy, trailing a bound whore on a leash. She smiled at the sight of Ramon in his thong, and could not avoid caressing his swelling while Tanya fixed a ring to a bracket on the floor and forced the whore to bend over to reach for the band between her legs.

“Hold tight, sister. Your life depends on it.”

Ramon was roughly introduced into her anus, and Tanya stood back to observe the naked slaves, poised for their marathon sodomy session. She ordered him not to push against the whore with his hips. Only his cock was allowed to touch his partner.

“You can’t have him just pushing her over. Rosa doesn’t deserve a fair chance, but she’ll get it.” Tanya collected an electric baton from the trolley and administered two electric doses to each slave. “Now, pay attention. You two are going to have a little competition, a competition you’ll not want to lose.”

Three hours later, Ramon was led back into the reception area to await the arrival of the Director. An hour of furtive gropes and another round of caning from Tanya came to an end when Carmel returned, surrounded by aides and officials requesting signatures, decisions and advice. She gave the new slave no more than a swift glance as she glided into her office to close the oak panelled door.

Ramon was brought to stand before the secretary’s desk.

“I cannot decide whether I want to see his cock standing proud, or swollen in the thong. It’s like a coiled spring ready to unload, a snake ready to bite.”

“Go stand beside Mistress Jennings. Please her with your cock, slave.”

Ramon stood beside the secretary, thrusting forward his pelvis. Miss Jennings removed his member from the costume to let her palm wander along the rigid shaft.

“I can never decide between Ramon and Ulysses.”

“Isn’t it just a question of whose got the biggest cock?”

“Tanya, what a slut you are! It’s about personality. Ulysses is such an arsehole, but some women like that. Treat them mean to keep them keen. Personally, I prefer Ramon. He’s got such a sweet smile.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“Alison, you’re just a romantic at heart.”

“Has Ramon been a naughty boy?” she asked, touching the raw crimson stains on his backside. “Won’t Carmel mind you playing with her toys?”

“Training, Alison, training. Ramon here will be entertaining our guests at next week’s opening along with our former sheriff. Carmel’s orders. The boss may have a hot and wet spot for his fuckmeat, but she wants him trained for his … performance. So, I’m under strict orders to prepare him for Rosa. The fact that I enjoy caning his arse and sticking metal spikes into his hole is just a happy coincidence … for me.” She tapped his lacerated flesh, provoking a wince.

“What’s happening to Rosa?”

“I can’t say too much, but as Pamela has planned the event, you know it will be painful, degrading and exhausting.”

“Great. I never liked that arrogant bitch.”

The phone rang and the Director asked for the new slave to be brought to her office to be placed before her desk. Carmel did not even look up from her papers as Ramon’s cock began to rise only feet from her face while she asked Miss Jennings for a cup of coffee and two biscuits after her long drive from Austin. Only when her secretary had left after returning with the biscuits and she had eaten her snack did she look up to her latest purchase, the porn star whose pictures and videos still littered her home computer, dressed in the crimson thong that she first saw on Ulysses. The flimsy cloth could barely contain his erection, so she called him to stand by her chair while she released him.

“You look tired, Mistress De Bois.”

“It has been a long day,” she confessed, running her hand along his thighs. She felt the marks on his backside.

“I’m sorry about Tanya. I know she’s brutal, but I need you for an important task next Friday.”

“What can I do for you, Mistress?”

       “There’s a woman. Her name is Rosa Ortiz.”

       “I remember her.” Ramon’s tone told her that he did not hold fond memories of the former sheriff.

       “She tried to have me arrested, put in Harmon Prison and treated … treated like a convict whore. Well, I was lucky and now she’s the one in prison. Next Friday I want you to help me get rid of her, forever.”

       “What do you want me to do?”

       Carmel smiled up at her slave and closed her eyes as she embraced his foreskin with her ruby lips.

       An hour later Carmel’s phone rang.

“Miss De Bois, we have a problem in The Dungeon. Those Russian bitches have Ramon. He’s on ‘the grill’ now.”

       Carmel arrived to find one of the Russian women driving an anal plug into Ramon while her companion thrust a gag into his mouth. The device known as ‘the grill’ heated wires behind the victim’s buttocks, leading them to strain forward to escape the heat. The thrusting could only be maintained for a few minutes before the victim fell back against the wires, forcing them forward once more. The Rozanov Sisters often used ‘the grill’ to abuse their victims, and there were three videos dedicated to their body of work on the machine. Carmel saw that they intended to increase the torment by employing a metal spike that would scorch Ramon’s anus within a few minutes.

The sadists were too busy fondling Ramon’s penis and thighs to notice the arrival of the Director.

       “I’ve told you before, this one belongs to me.” Carmel’s voice was low and calm, but she marched across the room to stand before the two Slavic sadists.

       “We want to taste his cock. You not keep him for self.”

       “I can, and I will.”

Carmel’s patience with these two bitches had expired, and with Ramon writhing from their torture, she knew it was time to act. Meanwhile, the Russian porn stars set their hands on their ample hips and delivered a disdainful stare at the woman in the business suit and high heels.

       “We not follow orders from you. We tell Ulysses. He sack you, blonde bitch.”

       Carmel had indulged Ulysses’ vanity by allowing him to pretend to the two sadists that he was an important figure within The Foundation, tolerating the casual, informal, manner denied to the other porn star visitors. She realised now that these two Russians were too dense to notice that Ulysses was no more than a porn actor, pushing his cock into strangers for money, while she was the manager of the company.

       Carmel ordered Tanya and Wendy to remove Ramon while she cast an irate stare at the Russian duo that they would have been wise to fear. She did not even wait to return to her office to call Hector on her mobile phone.

       “Hector. I have another favour to ask.”

The Foundation

23

Kissing Cousins

Pamela Clayton opened the cell door and peered into the darkness, hearing the Razanov Sisters before she saw them. The sound of both women eagerly licking the vagina of their cousin echoed from the white tiles on the wall as a flickering light finally burst into life to cast a sickly glow over the two women dangling in the middle of the room. Svetlana was hanging from the ceiling by her wrists and ankles while Yelena lay on top of her cousin, held down by the heavy weights attached to each limb.

“How are our kissing cousins?”

The pace of the licking increased as both prisoners attempted to pacify Pamela’s raging temper after a savage anal rape for both prisoners the day before when she appeared in the cell to find neither girl engaging in cunnilingus.

“Work those tongues, my dears. There’s a dose up the arse for the first to come.”

The prisoners immediately heightened the caress of their opponent’s mound, driving their tongue between the lips as they sought the clitoris.

One of Pamela’s first tasks had been to set the two cousins against one another. This was easily accomplished by a series of contests in which the defeated competitor was brutally tortured and abused by the victor, with any reluctance to punish their companion leading to fierce retribution. Within hours of their return to The Foundation’s new premises, as convicted drug mules rather than pampered porn stars, the cousins were eagerly beating, raping and tormenting each other to ease their own suffering. Pamela had placed Wendy in charge of their training, confident that the young apprentice had learnt enough by the side of her two mentors to guarantee a subservient and degraded pair within two months. Wendy was proving her worth, because after just four days of ‘therapy’ the prisoners were already showing signs of a more compliant attitude.

Wendy arrived and together they inspected the holes of the two whores, deciding that they were ‘suitable’ for the exercise. The prisoners whimpered at the thought of further torments at the hands of the women they had insulted only days before as Wendy led them into the main yard, still littered with building debris from the final preparations for the opening night. Wendy ordered them into the ‘crab’ position and set them racing to the far wall and back, shuffling through the scattered bricks and cement packets left by the builders. She was delighted to see the trailing girl kick out at her opponent as they passed after she touched the far wall. As they drew near she could heat their agitated breath, the losing prisoner desperate to find the strength to overhaul her cousin.

       The victor collapsed at Wendy’s feet, panting into the dirt as she held onto her ankles while the loser was already in tears as she drew to a halt.

       “Up, slut, and accept your punishment.”

       The loser climbed to her feet while the victor also rose from the dirt. Wendy handed over the cane.

       “I want blood, within a minute.”

       The victor unleashed a savage battering of her cousin’s backside, the stick slicing through the air to spank her opponent. Wendy tapped a finger against her wrist to highlight the shortage of time to the caner, and she increased the speed and weight of her blows, straining every muscle to draw blood. Eventually, after almost a minute of abuse, the skin tore, and a ribbon of blood decorated the buttocks of the slower cousin.

       “Mistress, I complete task. Look.” She pointed to the bloodstains on the crimson skin.

       “Good slave. Now, beat her while I’m gone. If I can’t hear the strokes I will know that you have stopped, and if you stop, she will beat you.”

       Wendy returned to hear the comforting sound of cane against flesh and the slight howl that greeted each stroke. She could not recognise the differences between the two cousins, and she did not feel the need to differentiate between them. They were whores, and it was her task to prepare them for their performances.

       The beater and the beaten were both ordered to stand against the wall. Wendy smiled at the memory of the Rozanov Sisters of last week, with their dominatrix uniforms and their sullen arrogance. The only constant, amongst so many changes, was their wide hips.

       “It’s time to introduce you to an old friend.”

       The door opened on Ulysses Winchester – Harper. He was naked, as usual, but now he was bound at the wrist, his arms drawn high towards his neck brace. His buttocks, thighs and back were scoured with cane marks, evidence that Tanya had been responsible for his discipline in the four days since all three were convicted of drug dealing by Judge Maxwell. His blond locks had been replaced by a shaven scalp and a bright red ball gag kept him silent.

       Ulysses was brought to stand before the two women. Wendy took hold of his erect member and began to stroke the shaft. The prisoner groaned through his gag.

       “We’ve given him a special dose of Kiriko. It will keep him hard for the next forty eight hours. The problem for our stud is that it’s two days of agony. Now, thrust out your cock and show the girls how pleased you are to see them.”

       Ulysses began immediately to propel his erection back and forth, eagerly thrusting his cock at the two bound women. Wendy went to the trolley and returned with a cane. She flexed the thin wood and issued a few swipes in the air, watched nervously by Ulysses as he began a frenzied pounding to avoid further punishment. His efforts were futile because Wendy stood back to unleash a volley of four harsh blows to his buttocks. After the beating, she inserted a wide anal plug and forced him to stand, legs wide apart, facing the wall. The message to the Rozanov Sisters was clear. Ulysses Winchester – Harper was no longer a wealthy socialite engaging in some rough trade sex, but a convicted drug dealer who would serve out his days as a sex slave in The Foundation’s film studio and brothels.

       “Now, let’s have you two sluts dancing on a dildo.”

       Two hours later, after another bout of beatings for all three prisoners, another race that resulted in a dose of anal shock therapy for the loser, the prisoners were fed dried biscuits and water. Once their paltry meal was over the three former porn stars were left standing, legs wide apart, while Wendy spent more than an hour dining in the cafeteria. After a lunch of soup and pasta followed by apple tart she returned to find her three convicts as they left them. A brief sodomy session with both women was followed by stretching exercises and a full review of all the demeaning positions, encouraged by copious use of both the cane and the electric baton.

       Half an hour later all three prisoners were covered in sweat and cane marks, panting as they squatted over anal plugs, their sliced backsides glinted in the sunlight. Wendy was sure that they were ready now, so she sent them to stand by the far wall and left the yard to return with the latest additions to The Foundation’s stable of sadistic whores.

       Two girls walked into the yard behind Wendy, both dressed in thigh high boots, black leotards and caps. The new Rozanov Sisters were younger and slimmer, with the back of their high cut leotards almost ripping their buttocks apart. They circled the yard, displaying their outfits to the three slaves, before reaching the two bound women and unleashing a brutal barrage of blows with their sticks that left the cousins weeping into their gags.

       “What do you think? They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery. Our new Razanov Sisters will be making many movies together with their fake Russian accents. We thought it would be fitting for you two to feature in the first instalment of the next series of the Razanov Sisters’ adventures. We already have a title. Anal Torment Hell 1. Are you glad to be going back into show business?” The girls nodded after a caning from their successors.

       The Dungeon awaited the return of the original Rozanov Sisters. Though they were now naked and bound, all of the crew recognised the cousins. Four days at the mercy of Tanya and Wendy, however, had changed Ulysses. An air of silent surprise, followed by giggles, greeted the former porn star.

       The director explained a few points to the new sadistic sisters and then the former stars were each tied to the bench, with Ulysses sandwiched between the cousins. He impaled Svetlana on his cock while suffering anal rape from Yelana’s strapped vibrator. Yelena was not saved from buggery, because the filming began with a massive anal plug being inserted into her anus by one of the novice Rozanov Sisters.

       “Excellent. Everyone ready. Here we go. Close in, Tony, let’s get that anguish. We want every degrading moment.”

       Two shocking hours later the director was about to call for a break before the final hours of filming, when Carmel appeared on the set.

       “The kissing cousins,” Carmel announced, running her fingers along the raw and battered buttocks of both girls. “They’ve really been giving your holes a pounding. Is Ulysses responsible for that? Actually, we’ve decided to give you new names, as we do with all our whores. So, from now on it’s Bulge Hercules, accompanied by Pixie Vulgar and Tiffany Staxxx. That’s with three Xs, in case you were wondering.”

       The three prisoners were untied from the bench to be presented to the Director. She stood for a moment enjoying the sight of the broken and tormented prisoners, and then turned to the director.

“I want these three devastated and ruined, ravaged beyond endurance. I don’t know what you were planning, but I want to see what you shoot today, and if I’m not shocked by what I see, you’ll be looking for other work tomorrow.”

Carmel found the two prisoners dressed as The Razanov Sisters.

“I want these whores in tears, or I’ll find someone else to fit those black boots and you’ll both be back in chains.”

That night Carmel lay in her bed watching the violation of the three former porn stars. The footage was as brutal a display of subjugation and abuse as she could possibly wish to see. The new Rozanov Sisters, desperate to avoid returning to the life of a bondage whore and sex slave, delivered a vicious assault on the holes of all three prisoners, inflicting severe pain and utter humiliation. Carmel was no sadist, but she could not avoid a sense of contentment to see her three enemies grovelling before their new mistresses.

There were more than two hours of videotape, but Carmel watched less than half an hour before enjoying another showing of her private film, shot on The Foundation’s equipment, starring herself as an Empress and Ramon as a captive barbarian. She could only laugh at herself draped on the couch in a purple dress as Ramon is dragged into her presence, struggling against his two female guards dressing as Roman soldiers. Two minutes of stilted dialogue later Carmel was sucking her prisoner’s cock and then the plot took a familiar course until Ramon finally ejaculated into her hand. The masterpiece was only ten minutes long, so there was a second viewing, and both times she halted the recording for the moment when Ramon leant down as she stroked his shaft to kiss her on the lips.

       

The Foundation

24

The Best Whorehouse in Texas

Senator Simpson stepped out from his limousine and a naked convict, dressed only in dark blue stockings and high heels, stepped forward with an umbrella to shelter him from the downpour.

“Thank you, Miss.” He gazed at the damp, naked flesh. “Good Samaritans come in all shapes and sizes.”

The Senator examined the row of sodden women, thrusting their naked bodies at the guests as they strolled through the grounds towards the entrance of the prison. He stopped by another blonde with blue eyes and asked her to heighten the pace of her thrusts and stroke herself. She obliged, panting in the rain while the Senator enjoyed the spectacle beneath his umbrella. After a few minutes the girl’s rubbing brought forth an orgasm that dripped through her fingers onto the damp grass. The Senator patted the prisoner’s cheek and strolled away through the front gates of The Foundation, into the landscaped garden decorated with rose bushes and manicured hedges.

A trio of guards stood by the main doorway, safe beneath their umbrellas while the deluge cascaded onto the whores standing by the far wall.

“Good evening ladies, I hope you’re not intending to spend the evening out here in the rain.”

“We’re just here to make sure you know where to go after the speeches. There’ll be a map of the prison so that our guests can visit their favourite area.”

“What delights do you have on offer? Will we see some genuine ‘therapy’ this evening?”

The three women smiled and Senator Simpson nodded gravely, touching the side of his nose as he winked.

“You know how to make an old man happy,” he said as he passed into the main lobby, decorated for the evening with dark blue livery and Texan flags.

Wendy, having been briefed on the guest list, approached the Senator and offered her hand for a kiss.

“My dear, I saw your performance on the television.” The Senator’s hand began to stray towards Wendy’s belt, and she knew that it would not be halting at the border. “I was … enraptured by your beauty. You have an elegant grace that is denied these to these sluts.” His hand had now reached her buttocks.

“Senator. I may not be a married woman, but you have Missus Simpson to consider.”

“True, my precious. Very true. However, we cannot part without you allowing me to offer you … my regards, and my thanks for the best whorehouse in Texas.” He gently grasped Wendy’s backside before departing with a gallant wave in search of the bar.

Carmel stood by the small stage set in the middle of the far wall, awaiting the arrival of the Governor. The presence of the first citizen of the state had only been confirmed earlier that day, after a frantic telephone rally between Carmel’s office and Austin. It was a notable success for The Foundation, and Carmel knew to thank both Judge Maxwell and Senator Hodges for the visit.

Senator Hodges appeared through the crowd, accompanied by a young blonde in a bright blue dress. She possessed an elegant figure, but she wore such a sour face, it undermined her beauty.

“Senator, it’s a pleasure to see you once more. Do I still address you as Senator?”

“Of course, there’s no change between Washington and Austin, only the taxis are more expensive in Washington and no one knows how to cook steak.”

“Well, I’ve not had the opportunity to congratulate you on your election or to thank you for all your work on our behalf.” Carmel smiled at the young woman, as if demanding an explanation for her sullen mood.

“This is my niece, Denise. She’s a bit low at the moment. Boy trouble.” The Senator whispered the last two words.

“It’s not boy trouble. It’s that slut Maxie Keston. She stole my Harry.” The young girl turned away for a sob, and the two women exchanged a glance.

“If there is anything I could do …”

“Well, now that you mention it.” The Senator led Carmel away to return five minutes later, both women smiling at the outcome of their talk.

“Denise. We’ve a girl in one of the rooms that will look exactly like Maxie.”

“I doubt she’ll have her pig eyes and that slut’s fat bum.”

“She’s close enough to be convincing, my dear. Miss De Bois has agreed to allow you … free rein on her after the speeches and desert.” Denise offered only a wan smile, but it was the first positive sign since she discovered that her college beau had been pilfered by a trailer park whore. There was some compensation in abusing a convict who looked like Maxie. It would ease her anger until the opportunity arose to punish the real whore.

As soon as the Governor arrived to a flurry of camera flares, Carmel stepped onto the stage to offer a brief address, thanking the guards, the administrative staff and the politicians for the courage to embark upon this brave adventure. She explained how some of guards would take small parties on a tour of the prison, and that the guests were invited to “partake of any of the delights they encounter on their travels.” Carmel knew not to detain her guests once the prospect of viewing the bondage whores in action was imminent. She offered a toast and the speech concluded with a round of hearty applause from the distinguished gathering.

Some guests began immediately to wander into the prison, exploring the yards and cells, but most waited to be guided by a senior guard along a route carefully designed by Carmel and Pamela to highlight the values and the benefits of The Foundation. The entire range of facilities available in the prison was presented during the tour. In the dance studio the convicts perfected their routines for the brothels and the shows for the forthcoming TV channel. The fitness centre housed an array of weights and treadmills. The sun tan beds provoked surprise, but Pamela explained to her party that the convicts were expected to look gorgeous for their customers. The studios were viewed in full operation, with three sets simultaneously recording films. The Dungeon studio attracted considerable interest, especially as the counterfeit Rozanov Sisters were torturing two unfortunate Latino girls.

Throughout the tour the convicts were constantly playing with both their breasts and their holes, often at the same time. The guests soon learnt that The Foundation catered for the most depraved and disgraceful women in the state, leaving even the most sceptical visitor in no doubt that the prisoners deserved their fate. However, Wendy’s group included Bethany Carmichael, who was visiting The Foundation for an item in the following week’s Samantha Tannon Show. The young officer struggled to maintain her composure as the reporter asked a series of facile and objectionable questions. The interrogation became so persistent that one guest asked Bethany why she had come to The Foundation if she found the activities so objectionable. Wendy only smiled at the insults and pondered her revenge.

All the tours concluded in The Consequence House, which was now an entire building teeming with young women in various bondage and torture poses. The guards entertained the guests with a display that included a crab race followed by punishment of the loser along with a plug race and finally a bout of prolonged sodomy of prisoners by other prisoners, all administered with abundant use of the electric baton and the cane. Once the session was over the guests were invited to stroll in the garden, still damp from the rains that had mercifully ceased, to choose a partner for any sex sessions that the guests might wish to enjoy in the comfort of the ‘hospitality’ suites located at the far end of the garden. 

However, most of the guests preferred to torment the whores on offer in the garden, despite a distinct chill in the night air. The whores endured an array of humiliations such as sucking on dildos, masturbating against the concrete posts and statues displayed around the grounds, or being sodomised by fists or vibrators. Pamela also noticed that the guests were reluctant to employ the canes on offer, preferring to leave discipline to the guards. Clearly, they opted to watch the convicts being abused rather than inflicting abuse themselves. The message from the television show was confirmed at the opening of The Foundation, the prison officers were a distinct attraction.

Pamela observed a small party of two women and four men while they enjoyed the sight of a brunette squatting on the grass as she drew apart her vagina lips to vigorously rub her gleaming red clitoris. She noticed that the women were more active than the men when commanding the whore to perform. One of the women drew back her head to show to the audience and massaged her enormous breasts.

“Rub harder, you cunt.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

After less than a minute of chafing the whore’s knees quivered and an orgasm cascaded from her hole as she gasped with pleasure. The surge was greeted with words of disapproval, even disgust, by the guests as the whore rose to stand in the display pose.

“Who told you to stop?”

The whore immediately returned to her squat and resumed her enthusiastic masturbation. Pamela noticed that the girl was staring down to the grass at her feet and ordered her to raise her head to look at her clients. One of the women asked Pamela how many times “these sluts” came during a normal performance, and she had to admit that she had never thought to count. The woman smiled, and asked whether or not that might make for an enticing competition.

“The first to five spurts?”

“Mrs Lancaster, that’s an interesting idea. May I use that?”

“Be my guest.”

No more than ninety seconds after she returned to the grass the whore jolted once more and another stream dripped onto the ground. One of the men asked the whore to bounce on her haunches because he wanted to see her breasts move, but the whore, balancing on her toes, managed only a mild rising and falling that failed to satisfy his companion. She asked Pamela to punish the whore for such insolence. The women, offered the choice, opted for the cane.

The squatting whore, following her training, pleaded to avoid a caning. The Foundation whores were to enjoy all forms of sex, no matter how painful or degrading, but to be pathetic and shameless in seeking to avoid discipline. The whore pleaded with Pamela and the woman, but the guest insisted on her victim squatting in the crab position to endure six strokes of the cane across her buttocks. Once the penalty had been administered the whore, unable to curb a sob, returned to her squat and resumed her masturbation in pursuit of a third orgasm. Pamela left the guests to their entertainment and returned to the hall to prepare for the final event of the evening. 

Carmel had remained in the hall while the guards took the parties on their tour of the prison, supervising the removal of the buffet and the deployment of the wine and cakes for Ramon’s performance with Rosa. Once the room was set for the return of the guest she went in search of her star. She found him in one of the cells, sporting a huge erection. He was as she saw him that very first time, hard as steel from a steroid injection into the base for the shaft. The jab itself was painful, and the drug left his muscles rigid and bloated, and now he was suffering as he sat on the low chair.

Carmel poured a handful of cream onto her palm and worked the lotion into the lower half of his penis. Ramon thanked her for relieving, if only for a few moments, the agony from the injection.

“It won’t take long, I promise, and then we will be free of her, forever.”

Ramon returned to his low seat, and she stood over him while he roamed over her upper legs, reaching towards the dark recess of her inner thighs as she moaned gently at the touch of his expert hands, regretting her choice of such a tight evening dress. Five minutes later, after she stepped out of her dress to allow Ramon full use of his hands, he brought her to an orgasm. She was slipping back into her dress when she heard the first sounds of the guests returning from the garden.

“Ramon, my dear, it’s time to perform.”

The Foundation

25

Buggered to Death

Pamela drew apart the cheeks to insert the plug into Rosa’s anus. There was no sound from the prisoner other than a slight quickening of her breath.

“Does that feel good, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress. Please fuck my filthy holes.” Rosa was giving her no opportunity for punishment before her performance.

“Are you ready for the rape of your life? It will probably be your last, but that’s bad news. You’re about to be buggered to death.”

The door opened on Daphne Maxwell in evening wear. She offered her former lover only the briefest of smiles before kissing Pamela on the lips. Then, she stood before the former sheriff. She saw that Rosa now possessed a toned athletic body, her leg and stomach muscles glistening even in the pale light.

“I have to say, Rosa, you have the most magnificent body. Is it steroids?” she asked Pamela.

“No, it’s just hard work in the gym. Steroids make them aggressive, and we can’t have Rosa too rowdy.” She grasped the prisoner’s hair and drew back her head.

       “Well, I only came to say farewell, Rosa. I won’t stay to see you … perform. I will have happy memories. The Foundation was such a clever idea, and we had some great times together. It was good while it lasted.” She turned and left without another word, leaving the naked prisoner and her guard, her two greatest lovers, in the cell.

       “Now, Cindy. I think, before we part for the last time, I’ll give you a farewell present.” She pressed down on Rosa’s neck, forcing her to bend over, while she removed the plug. Rosa heard the distinctive sound of the charge of the electric baton as she felt the cold metal tip against her anus.

       Ten minutes later Rosa was led into the centre of the hall to stand on a small stage of bright white boards no more than twelve inches above the floor. The only feature on the stage was a metal rail two feet long raised about six inches above the floorboards. Rosa was instructed to stand, hands on hips, in front of the rail while the diners around the room noticed the spotlight. Pamela thought Rosa’s arrogant pose on entry would offer a superb contrast to the humiliation that lay ahead.

       The muscular woman beneath the spotlight was already drawing an audience before Tanya clapped her hands together, bringing quiet to the entire room.

“Ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of the staff of The Foundation I would like to thank you for spending your evening with us. I hope you have enjoyed our wares. Please tell all your friends.” A mumble of laughter. “We will conclude tonight’s festivities with a display by two of The Foundation’s brightest stars, Cindy Moundlicker and Ramrod Ramon.” The news was greeted by an outbreak of chatter that took nearly thirty seconds and two claps of Tanya’s palms to subside. “Cindy must endure all of the indignities and the savage anal rape of the next hour to avoid tremor therapy. If she lets go of the rail she is given one minute of therapy. A second lapse earns her two minutes, a third … well, you don’t need me to explain what will eventually happen. If she can manage one hour without releasing her grip, she will be sent for life imprisonment in one of The Foundation’s latest brothels in the Far East.” Tanya held Rosa’s face to draw her closer. “I’m not sure what is worse.”

Rosa squatted down and reached between her legs for the bar. Tanya explained that her feet must remain in front of the bar at all times, and called on the guests at either side to act as monitors.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, though I feel I am really only speaking to the girls here, I would like to introduce our very own weapon of mass distraction, Ramrod Ramon.”

Ramon appeared to gasps from those female guests who had only heard rumours of a stud with the most magnificent piece. One woman called out that she wanted to swap places with Rosa, drawing a chorus of laughter from the audience. He stepped onto the stage to be greeted by a round of applause, mainly from the female spectators. A few, veterans of his Wednesday Afternoon Tea appearances, offered a friendly wave.

Ramon was placed behind Rosa’s glistening anus and slowly inserted into his ‘victim’ to applause and shouts of encouragement from the guests who had now drawn close to the small circular stage for a view of Ramon’s anal assault. A sandglass timer stood on a small table at the edge of the stage and Tanya held up the hourglass for all to see before overturning the timepiece to set it on the table. She stepped off the stage to allow the guests a clear sight of the spectacular rape to come.

Ramon unleashed a brutal rape, driving his penis into Rosa’s anus at a frantic pace that brought gasps from an audience that had already seen the basest of sexual degradations. Within a few minutes Tanya noticed that the audience’s loyalties were divided, with some offering encouragement to Ramon to “rip her in two” or “ram her hole.” However, a few guests were urging Rosa to “hold on, girl” or “stand your ground.” Tanya soon realised the cause of this split interest was gambling. Bets had been offered and taken on whether Rosa would survive her night of passion with Ramon.

Rosa’s night took a negative turn after just ten minutes when the sweat on her palms finally loosened her grip and she stumbled forward. The shouts from the audience alerted Tanya, who had been avidly watching the events from the side of the stage. She stepped onto the bright white planks, bringing with her a special costume of wires and vibrators. While Rosa was placed into the costume Tanya explained that the shocks would come from the vagina and anus as well as both nipples. Rosa was gagged because, as Tanya explained to giggles, “Cindy has no comment to make.”

Rosa was now chained to the bar with her hands between her legs and, after a theatrical countdown by Tanya and the crowd, the ‘therapy’ began. Rosa quivered at the first shock and soon she was screaming through her gag as the buzz of the electric current coursing through her body stiffened her muscles. The chains holding her hands drew tight as she tried to rise. Sixty seconds were counted out by Tanya and the spectators, and there was another theatrical countdown before the torture ceased.

Rosa was released from her chains and the costume removed, revealing the bright marks on her nipples and holes. She wiped her hands on the floorboards and returned to her position, a defiant gesture that brought cheers from some of the crowd. Ramon returned to the stage to resume the rape, and soon the sound of his thrusting and her moans through the gag was being drowned out by chatter. Tanya was aware that the mood of the audience was shifting towards the victim while more than a few of the guests were drifting away from the stage for the remnants of the buffet.

Senator Simpson left Ramon and Cindy to their performance in search of another dose of Bourbon before he contemplated visiting the suites with one of the blonde whores. He encountered Carmel, standing with Senator Hodges and the Governor. He stepped forward and planted a kiss on the cheek of the Director.

“My dear, once again you have surpassed yourself.” The Governor grasped Simpson’s elbow as he passed him a glass.

“Governor. You’re a gentleman. I regret now calling you a fat toad on the floor of the Senate.” He drained his glass. “You’ve clearly lost weight.”

Governor Jenkins tipped back his head and laughed. Carmel was relieved that he had enjoyed the evening. He had not tasted any of The Foundation’s wares, but there would be a few special deliveries to Austin in the coming weeks, and Carmel had promised Mrs Jenkins a visit from Ramon. There was every chance now that the prisoners would be viewed as the exclusive property of The Foundation, and the rules on allowing prisoners out of The Foundation grounds would be eased. The Governor had already promised the state’s support for the cable channel that was due to begin broadcasting within the next three months.

“I can keep The Religious Right off your back. I know enough about Reverend Houseman to keep him quiet. Let’s just say that in some brothels in west Texas he’s known as ‘Reverend Horseman’ and that’s not down to his riding skills.”

The Governor left shortly after eleven, because a breakfast meeting in Austin with a party of oil magnates required his presence. Carmel saw him to his limousine and the evening ended with a polite kiss and the promise of a dinner invitation to the Governor’s Mansion. The Senator was still lingered by the table serving as a bar when Carmel returned. He had been slightly distracted by Rosa’s second dose of electric torture, but now he was examining the whores on offer by the far wall before taking his selection to the hospitality suites in the prison garden. He looked across to the stage flooded in light.

“Your boy is giving her a terrific pounding. You must enjoy your time with him, even if he is as thick as a short plank.” Rosa did not alert the Senator to his mistake about Ramon’s intelligence, only smiling in reply. “Your dreams have come true,” Simpson commented with a wave of the hand to encompass the entire Foundation. “You own the best whorehouse in Texas.”

“Senator, I can assure you. This is only the beginning. My dreams would make your head spin, and I intend to turn my … ambitions into reality. Pay attention over the next few years and you will see what I can accomplish. Trust me, Senator, this really is only the beginning.”

The Senator made his choice from the array of naked flesh and departed, leaving Carmel by the tables. She organised the collection of the used cups and plates and considered watching Ramon perform, especially as he would be violating that loathsome Ortiz. However, as she knew that Tanya was likely to be employing her cane, she chose not to watch. She knew that Ramon did not like her to watch him performing with other women, so she returned to her office, though it was after eleven, to examine the contracts with the cable providers for her the next phase in her grand project.

By midnight the crowd had thinned to no more than thirty guests, and almost all of those remaining were concerned for their wagers. A few of the audience called out for Ramon to make a greater effort, having placed bets on his victory over the lesbian. Tanya took out her cane and administered a beating to Ramon’s buttocks, provoking a spate of frantic thrusts that displaced Rosa from the bar once more.

The third ‘tremor’ lasted more than three minutes, drawing critical shouts from ‘Team Cindy’ members. Rosa was on her knees after her third dose, and for a moment Tanya thought that the task was done. However, the prisoner rose gingerly to her feet and the chains were once more removed. She stood, breathing deeply from her ordeal until Tanya caned her buttocks to bring her back to the bar.

The fourth attempt to ease her grip on the bar took more than forty minutes, and some of Rosa’s supporters had come to believe that their winnings were safe. There was a faint groan from the prisoner as she lay for a moment on the floorboards before rising to be placed once more into the costume. She stared up to the ceiling, as if sensing that this was to be the final violation. Tanya thought she looked calm, as if relieved that her end had come.

However, the fourth dose, though sending the scent of fried skin into the cooling night air, failed to terminate Rosa. Soon afterwards it was clear that it was Ramon who appeared to be waning. His constant shoves had produced two ejaculations, and his cock remained fully erect, but he was sweating profusely onto the floorboards and his knees buckled more than once as he tried to wrest the former sheriff from her rail.

The hourglass was almost half empty as the last of the tables were cleared from the hall and the catering crew collected the cups. The last hardy revellers remained, awaiting the fate of their stake and offering the occasional shout to the violated or the violator. There were no more than ten minutes worth of sand in the upper chamber when Ramon collapsed to his knees and rolled away from the splayed woman. Tanya’s cane managed to raise him to his feet, but he could barely manage to penetrate his opponent’s anus. The contest was over, and Rosa had emerged the victor.

The gamblers insisted upon Rosa remaining in position until the last grains had left the glass, but Ramon had already been taken away, his backside and back ripped by Tanya’s cane. Tanya could not hide her fury as the hourglass finally emptied and the dozen remaining spectators exchanged banknotes and name cards. The night ended with a bout of handshakes followed by a round of applause for the victor, who rose from her squat to stand, covered in sweat, before her audience wearing a triumphant smile.

Tanya ordered Rosa to return to the rail and administered a savage caning, commanding her to offer thanks for every stroke. The handful of stragglers left Tanya to her cruel retribution so that Tanya and Rosa were alone in the large hall by the time her arm was too sore to continue the beating. She ordered Rosa to stand while she fastened the neck and elbow braces and led her through the silent prison to her cold and dark cell.