Hans Meijer - The slave girl

"You are both very nice girls with fine cunts." The corporal informed warmly. "You now how have visitor. My friend, Mr. Burdett, is wait in office."

The two girls looked at each other askance. Would he know? Should they tell him? They lowered their weight of metal to the floor and sat primly erect. "You are most welcome to fuck them both, dear sir Mr. Burdett. They have luscious cunts." Corporal Eliah's hospitality was warm. Evidently he intended to miss nothing.

The Slaver's retort was typical. "You bastard! You mean, you've fucked 'em both already?" "Of course. Am I not the corporal here?"

Corey knew her Master had to fight for control. The set of his lips spoke volumes. She glowed with fresh hope as his eyes met hers. "You alright, girl?" : We have not been harmed, Master."

"What the hell's all that scrapiron on their feet?"

"They have been sentenced, sir. All legal. They have been found most naughty and must wear irons because of previous escape."

"Piss on that! Take 'em off!"

"Would be to break the Law, dear sir. Irons do not matter to nice girls. They spread their legs for you most easily. Will you fuck them now?"

"If you think I'm going to fuck a girl in a cage with you watching, you're nuts. I didn't come here to fuck. I want them out of this."

"Alas, they are much in. Perhaps you would be our guest for the evening. My staff will fuck the girls from time to time. You are most welcome to watch through the bars."

"Piss on that too! Look, Eliah, I want 'em out. What's it cost?" "But, sir, they have been found guilty. Their sentence is for fifteen years with full discipline and restraint. In a few days, after we have all fucked them well, they will be taken to the special prison for naughty ladies and begin to serve…"

"Where the hell's that?"

"It is the State Institution for intractable females at Imballa, Mr. Burdett, sir." Said the corporal with stiff dignity. "They will be much whipped, and in fifteen years will be fine citizens."

"Horseshit!" Seth Burdett frowned at his former slaves. "Hold on, girls." He said forcefully. "The corporal here can't do a thing. He's a good chap on the wrong side of te fence. But look…" His face became fierce. "I'll get you out. Chains and all, I'll get you out. Remember that." He turned and strode from sight.

Corey glowed with pride. The fire inside her crotch quenching the corporal's ravishment.

For four days Corey and Audrey serviced the Ben Sirah constabulary with lips and cunt and mouth. On the fifth day they were taken to Imballa. It was in a polite car with the corporal. They sat in the back, linked together by handcuffs on their elbows. On arrival at one of the grimmest buildings they had ever seen there was much signing of papers while they stood at attention. Then corporal Eliah unlocked and pocketed his department's handcuffs, shook their free hands warmly, and wished them well for the mere trifle of fifteen years, and left them to the mercy of the correctional Institute of Imballa.

Imballa had no mercy. It hosed them down, it disinfected, it fingerprinted, it completed documents. Then a wardress put them in a cell with the heartening information that, when she got around to it later, she would whip them both between their legs as an Institutional aid to the rejection of carnal thoughts. The barred door and its lock made a sound to discourage any optimism a girl might have brought along."

"We're not going to like this." Audrey's statement was positive.

"I'm hating this iron on our feet more and more." Corey mourned. "They don't need to put it on us here. There's no escape. They're just being mean." She brightened. "But our Master will get us out. I know he will!"

"You and your Master!" Audrey sniffed. "He's only one man." She looked around disconsolate. "Gosh, wath a hateful place! I can feel those fifteen years…"

Wardress Taruma could have handled six ironed girls with ease. Corey and Audrey gave her no trouble. "I no have time to take you to punishment room. You walk too slow." She told them tersely. "Each cell equipped for whippings. I whip you here."

"We don't need to be whipped. We haven't done anything. We promise we'll behave."

"You been naughty. You be sentenced. Is custom to whip new girl."

There seemed little left to say. The twin delinquents did as they were told. On their backs on the floor, they watched the pulley raise their irons. To meshed gears the weight of metal meant nothing. Four feet went with the iron, rising up and up, followed by legs and thighs. Somewhere there was a winch and motor. They could hear it. But for Taruma there was only the ropes and the button on the wall. After two pert bottoms had left the floor she pressed the button and surveyed the two open and exposed crotches with approval. "You got pretty cunts. I find a use…! Now I whip."

She used a quirt, a hateful thing with heavy thongs, well lubricated with the secretions of a hundred girls. She used it leisurely, going from one sundered cunt to the other. Her blows were viciously wise in female agony. But she would do no damage. She appeared to regard a whipping as a time for conversation, some of it informative. "We got nice room for girl punishment. Have stocks. Have whipping post. Have thing to stretch. Have many whips. Imballa girls very lucky."

Corey squealed. The twin thongs had sliced her sex without warning. The pain was hateful. But then… all pain was hateful. She braced her free forearms on the floor to raise herself to where she could see herself whipped and watch the quirt slice the naked girl beside her. "Please," She pleaded, "Why can't you whip our bottoms? It's not right or decent to whip a girl's cunt." She was instantly rewarded for temerity. The quirt flashed down across her left breast. She subsided, writhing her scream of agonized anger cut in two by a second splat between her open thighs.

"In Imballa girls do not complain." Said Wardress Taruma blandly. Miss Corey Gibson did not complain again.

The two thonged wickedness went back and forth. Sometimes it entered the forbidden lips. Soon it was wet with female fluids and hurt the more. The girl's own secretions were etched upon the skin of their loins and thighs, but they replenished the leathers by the plentitude of their emissions. They were young and full of sap. Wardress Tamura cut into them with shrewd snapping blows. They rewarded her with their impotent writhing and their yelps and squeals from the desolation of their distress. It was a wise and compelling introduction to their new captivity. When she released them and went her way, the two girls lay sprawled upon the floor and wept upon each other's naked skin.

On the second day they were escorted to the main office, their dragging feet a misery to themselves and an irritation to Tamura. The prison governor was male. He eyed their breasts with pleasure as they stood to attention before his desk. Tamura had told them to 'stick them tits well out'. "Welcome to Imballa." He greeted politely. "You have received your first whipping?"

"Yes, sir. Between our legs, bij wardress Tamura."

"So I observe. You will be whipped again today. I am a great believer in the whip. I hope you share my faith?"

"Yes, sir." Both had been told the expected response.

"Excellent! This will be a more conventional lashing."

"Thank you, sir."

"You are most welcome. We do our best here at Imballa. We get results. Few leave who are not reformed." The governor cleared his throat. "Our staff is largely female: splendid women such as the wardress you have met. But there is a small male contingent. This includes myself. We will fuck you as convenient. It is a modern innovation designed to modify the tedium of incarceration."

"Thank you, sir."

"Not at all. Ah, yes! You have fifteen years to go. A mere trifle."