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The Ballad of Lara and Gemma
Part One: the Story so far
by Velvetglove
Author’s Note
A ballad is defined as a simple song or poem, recounting a story of an amorous or sentimental nature. This strange tale is a romantic ballad written in prose. A lot of the feedback received during the original postings of ‘After the Pestilence’ related to two characters; Lara and Gemma. This Part is mainly an edited repost of their appearances to date. Part Two, is new material, recounting the end of their bizarre and ultimately tragic tale.
Lara’s Theme
A ballad is usually set to music. So imagine, if you will, the beautiful theme tune from the film ‘Doctor Zhivago’, the piece that is known as ‘Lara’s Theme’. It is said that Maurice Jarre’s haunting melody represents Dr. Zhivago’s fated love for his beautiful and elusive Lara. Try, if you can, to hold those notes played on the balalaika in the back of your mind as we take a trip through ‘our own’ Lara’s life and her doomed passion for the sweet but elusive Gemma.
Lara
The defining moment of Lara’s life occurred before she was even old enough to remember it happening. It is difficult to know whether what happened afterwards is the reason, or an excuse, for how she turned out.
Lara would certainly have you believe it was the cause of her personality disorder. Others would state categorically that Lara merely used it as a convenient way to present herself as the victim, rather than the villain. Whatever the truth, when Lara’s parents died in their car on an icy December day during the English winter of 1984, just after her third birthday, it turned a happy, outgoing little child into a morose, introverted young girl.
Lara and her two brothers were subsequently looked after by different arms of the extended family at different times. I would say ‘cared for’ but I think ‘looked after’ is probably the warmest way one could describe their upbringing. Sometimes they spent brief, happier times with their young and eccentric aunt, Stella, but they mainly lived in the elderly and stern household of their dead father’s parents. Lara’s grandfather was an authoritarian of the ‘old school’, who believed that children should be seldom seen, and never heard. The cane in his study was used frequently. Lara’s grandmother was not unkind but she drank a bottle of gin a day, smoked incessantly, and played bridge six times a week with three other ladies, to avoid facing up to the unbearable loss of her own dear son.
The nanny, a woman in her forties called Ms. Ernst who was left in charge of the three children, was strict and cruel, sadistic even. She belonged to the 1880s not 1980s, believing in plain boiled food, open windows in winter and early bedtimes. Most of all, she ruled the bathroom, inflicting cold baths, cod liver oil and embarrassing underwear inspections on her young charges. Woe betide Lara or her brothers if she found they had used more than four pieces of toilet paper in a single visit to the lavatory: “one up, one down, one check, one polish!” was Ms. Ernst’s fierce mantra. Luckily, at the age of 8, each child was sent off to boarding school, the boys to the same one, and finally, at last, Lara to an all girls prep school.
It was here that Lara flourished. Within a few weeks, she became less introverted and sullen. She was bright, pretty and soon, popular. But she rapidly discovered the major thrill in a girl’s boarding school lay in scheming, bullying and bitching. Within a short period, Lara was at the centre of the junior year’s social life, befriending the majority, and making a misery of the lives of those she excluded. Best of all was suddenly, inexplicably, rejecting one of her favourites and casting her out, whilst showing unexpected kindness to another whom she had previously bullied.
Life continued merrily into her new senior boarding school at 11. But within a couple of years, another element had entered the equation.
Sex.
Lara didn’t know at that stage that she was a lesbian. In fact, in time, she was to become a bisexual with a preference for women but an occasional liking for pretty boys. But what she discovered at that early stage was that she hungered for sex and guys weren’t available.
Girls were.
More importantly, sex for her soon became inextricably linked with power. It didn’t matter to her that some of her girlfriends didn’t want to play under the covers at night.
Lara did.
And she secretly enjoyed it even more with those girls who were doing it merely to keep in Lara’s good books, rather than any genuine taste for Lara’s glistening, sticky ‘honey pot’.
Academically,
she did fine. She excelled in Biology, Chemistry, Physics and English at
School, and then graduated in Natural Sciences from
University in
the Summer of 2003. She had become involved in
national student politics and, after leaving
And delighted.
It was about this time that she became properly reacquainted with her dear Aunt Stella and divine Uncle Brutus.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Oh, and by the way, a tiny footnote to our story records that in early 2010, an unfortunate 66 year old retired nanny, a certain Maggie Ernst, was arrested, tried and sentenced to work in one of the brutal state laundry workhouses for what remained of her unfortunate and unpleasant life.
Remarkably, and most regrettably for her, she was somehow to survive for another 18 years.
*** *** ***
The first time Lara spotted Gemma she was totally unimpressed.
Gemma was delivered on the Auction House truck with another female slave. She was wearing a ripped, baggy cotton shift, and long beige cotton pants. Her face was innocent looking - perhaps “sweet” might be the right word - but not beautiful, and her features were obscured by prim tortoiseshell spectacles. In a movie she would have been cast as a stereotypical librarian, quite attractive, but a woman that the male hero never seems to notice.
To be honest, Lara couldn’t imagine why her aunt Stella would have bothered to pay good Credits for her. Of course, at that stage, she didn’t even know Gemma’s name. Or, for that matter, care.
The next time, a week or so later, Gemma was naked, on her knees, doing oral training. She and three other females were kneeling in a line sucking on vibrating phalluses, set on plastic male mannequins that had once stood in shop windows. Lara and Stella were walking past and Lara paused idly to watch. Gemma’s hazel coloured eyes were open wide with effort. She was grimacing and struggling to cope with the immense pink penis that was electronically pumping into her gagging mouth, her lips drooling.
Lara raised an eyebrow. “How much was that one ?”
Stella
smiled. “Cheap. Last
Lara shrugged. “Nothing.”
They walked on.
Lara still didn’t know Gemma’s name.
At that time, Lara was working most of the time in the big City by the river. She visited Stella and Brutus when the local Government Offices closed every five days (the concept of a ‘weekend’ had ceased to exist; most workers, labourers, farmhands and slaves worked 7 days a week). She currently had no specific girlfriend, just a couple of casual relationships, and also a young woman who Lara blackmailed for sex. Then, when she was at Stella’s, Lara helped herself to any slaves, mainly female, who were spare.
To be honest, she wasn’t interested in commitment.
The situation suited her fine.
But during the following week, Lara’s mind returned to the image of the girl with spectacles. One evening, she was unusually cruel on the woman she was blackmailing, threatening to have her sentenced to ‘Slavery for Life’ on some trumped up charge.
The woman was older, mid-thirties, married, a mother, and Lara made her visit her twice a week to clean Lara’s apartment, cook and serve, while the woman’s husband – who had no choice but to meekly accept the arrangement – tended their children.
That evening, Lara urinated all over the woman’s face and clothes (the best she had) without even registering what she was doing. She thrashed the woman’s soft buttocks and breasts, leaving stripes and bruising for her husband to soothe. And she sent the woman into the street below to trawl for two men to pay a measly 50 Credits to double-team her.
Lara drank wine, watched and listened from her balcony, in the moonlight, as the two men ‘spit roasted’ the woman, a cock in her cunt while she sucked the other. When she staggered back, Lara took the Credits, pushed a finger roughly up the woman’s soiled vagina and wiped it on her forehead, then stuck just 5 of the 50 Bearer Credits onto her face.
“Go home.” She spat. “And you don’t need to ever come back !”
But in her mind’s eye, Lara saw only the girl in the spectacles.
She wondered what her name was.
The next time Lara saw her target, she was starring in a movie. Lara was secretly shocked her uncle Brutus had chosen her to star in one of his ‘Bukkake Dildo’ series. They were a popular series of films that sold in their tens of thousands, including exports, which the State loved because it earned foreign Credits. At one end the poor girl was taking endless loads of jism from 100 volunteers, of every age, colour and description, in her stretched and wretched mouth, and over her face, hair, spectacles, breasts and body. It had apparently been Stella’s idea to let her keep her glasses on, and they were now streaked with come.
While at the other end, Lara and another woman were expanding the poor girl’s horizons, by drilling her with increasingly large, thick and colourful vibrators in her cunt and arse. Her legs were splayed uncomfortably wide and Lara plunged a massive shiny red machine, as thick as her forearm, nine inches deep inside the young woman’s inexperienced and distended cunt. Lara put the electric rotator in the shaft on overdrive, twisting and pummelling her insides. Five fixed cameras and two roving ones were set up to get every angle, close up and wide shot, so that the Corporation could then edit the film to its usual high standards.
She wondered how the ‘librarian’ was feeling now ?
Gemma
Gemma squatted, eyes ahead, thighs apart, body as steady as she could hold it, touching the ground by her side with just her fingertips.
In front of her, three people were sat, sipping tea and nibbling sandwiches, grinning at her. She wasn’t sure but she thought all three of them were members of the Government.
One man was definitely an officer of the dreaded Stalitz, the secret police. The other man and the woman were some sort of bureaucrats she thought. She thought the female was also related to Stella in some way and she had definitely been one of the two women who had rammed larger and larger things up Gemma’s orifices during the terrible film the day before, when she had been the “star”, in their horrible words, of the sick Bukkake movie. Her vagina and bottom still throbbed and she would never get rid of the overpowering smell and taste of semen in her mouth.
But in her mere four weeks in the Brute Corporation’s ownership, Gemma had learned that there was no respite. Things could always get worse. So here she was, naked, except for her specs, squatting outside in hot sunshine on a white marble table.
Her stomach rumbled. After letting her sleep a full 8 hours overnight after filming, they had already fed and watered her with what they referred to as ‘specials’ three times today, and forbidden her to use the toilet once. Gemma had got used to the public washrooms and being seen performing her ablutions by other slaves and guards.
But that wasn’t the same as squatting like this alone in front of three fully dressed people of both genders.
The young woman rose and wandered over. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, she ran a hand over Gemma’s embarrassing 38D tits, down her flank, and between her widespread legs, fingering her tender sphincter.
“Cramp ?” the woman asked.
Her thighs and calves ached horribly. “No, Miss.”
The woman’s sharp fingernail wormed its way up inside her sore anus. Gemma looked straight ahead submissively. The woman was classically pretty, with an oval face, a delicate jaw line and refined nose, but to Gemma, her features were slightly too pinched, her lips just too thin, to be considered beautiful. And she gave off no warmth. Zero. Like ice.
“Sore ?”
She shook her head very slightly. “No, Miss.”
The woman shook her head with a smirk. “Tough little bitch aren’t you ?”
Gemma paused, uncertain how to respond. “N… no, Miss.”
The woman removed her fingernail, sniffed it and placed it in Gemma’s mouth. Gemma licked. She knew better to resist. The woman was probably late twenties, maybe 5 or 6 years older than her. And yet she had total power over her. Already she had singled her out for attention on two prior visits.
“Tell me,” the woman asked, examining her polished red fingernail nonchalantly, “have you ever eaten shit before ?”
Gemma blinked at her and gulped. “No, Miss.” She noticed the two watching men leaning forward. The woman’s cruel aqua-blue eyes narrowed and she arched an eyebrow.
“Would you like to ?”
Again Gemma paused, uncertain. “No, Miss.”
“But if you had to, you would ?”
Gemma nodded, forcing herself to reply. “Ye …. s, Miss.”
“And would you rather eat your own shit, or somebody else’s ?”
She couldn’t take it any more. The slow verbal torture.
“Please,
Miss.” She begged with her eyes. “I’ll do anything else….please.”
It was a mistake.
She knew it as soon as the words had left her mouth. But, although the watching, heavily-lipsticked, red mouth twitched, the woman remained outwardly calm.
“Of course you will. So tell us, what will you volunteer to do if I let you off a little hot dog munching. Something that you haven’t done before ? Something that excites us all even more than my idea ?”
Gemma blinked again at her. Her heels and ankles ached even more now. She was leaning back on her haunches, completely displayed and her arms and fingers were stiff from maintaining her balance. But worse, she had cornered herself. She knew that none of the normal sexual smorgasbord of activities and humiliations would satisfy this jaded trio.
She had fucked and sucked numerous times already, been buggered, drunk piss, been caned and burned with cigarette ends, suffered bukkake parties and been tortured by over-sized dildoes. Even now, there was little else her normal 22 year old mind could imagine that she hadn’t already done or had done to her. She could only think of a few terrible things she’d seen or heard about, like animals, faeces and …. what else ? She shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t …. would you consider tattooing me ?”
The smirking woman turned to the watching men. They all grinned.
“How about TOI on one cheek and LET on the other ?” the woman laughed.
Gemma dropped her eyes down to the table, trying total humility.
“Do you need to go ?” she asked Gemma, pushing on her stomach.
“Yes, Miss.”
“Bladder and bowels ?”
“Yes, b … both, Miss.”
“Excellent.” She stepped back. “Bladder first. Hurry.”
Gemma shut her eyes. After many minutes controlling herself, she couldn’t just go straightaway. The pit in her gut rumbled and her bowels ached for immediate release. It was difficult to loose her bladder without relaxing her sphincter at the same time. Eventually, though, she felt her urine coming.
“Open your eyes. Look at me.”
She obeyed and watched the young woman studying her. She was clearly relishing the power she held, enjoying her total humiliation. Gemma felt her pussy lips pouting wider and a stream gushed noisily between her thighs onto the marble table. She listened to the hiss and splash and felt the warm liquid seeping between her toes.
The woman considered Gemma’s expression. She fingered Gemma’s knee.
“Embarrassed ?” she asked.
Gemma nodded. “Yes, Miss.” Still her full bladder kept emptying itself. She must have been going for twenty seconds and yet she still felt half full.
The woman slowly slid her thumb along from Gemma’s knee to her labia.
“Stop !” She ordered.
With an immense effort, Gemma squeezed her bladder muscles. After one or two seconds, the flow slowed to a trickle, then finally stopped.
With an approving smile, the woman ran her fingers over the “brazilian” strip of pubic hair they’d left Gemma with, and teased her lips further apart. Then she raised her hand and examined the droplets of urine that covered her fingers. Looking directly into her eyes, she tentatively licked a single drop.
Her red lips turned down at the edges in a look of disgust.
“Yuk. You really drink this stuff ?”
Gemma made a face. Her legs were cramping and her bladder ached.
“Yes, Miss. When I am told to.”
Her inquisitor held out her hand for Gemma to lick. Then she fetched an empty tea cup and held it just below Gemma’s middle.
“Carry on pissing. Into this.”
Gasping in relief, Gemma released the final ten seconds of her bladder’s load. “Thank you, Miss.” She hoped gratitude might help her.
The woman lifted the overflowing cup to Gemma’s mouth. “Drink !”
One of the other slaves had whispered to her soon after her arrival that drinking piss sounded awful until you’d been confronted with eating shit. Sure, piss was foul and humiliating but it was bearable. She knew of some slaves who’d been made to eat excrement but she had managed to avoid such a revolting fate so far. She intended to keep it that way.
Gemma opened wide and the woman poured carefully. It was hot and bitter but at least it was from her own body. Gemma swallowed it down.
Then, in the background, she caught sight of one of the watching men standing and unzipping himself. He emptied the milk jug and, laughing, placed his penis in the top and began urinating too.
“Seems like you’ve started something !” The woman joked.
The man made a joke in reply and referred to the woman by name as Lara.
At last Gemma’s nemesis had a name.
Lara.
Lara
Lara crossed the lawn when she saw that her aunt Stella had arrived back.
“Aunt Stell’. Can I have quick word ?”
Stella pecked her niece on the cheek. “Yes ?”
“I adore that one.” She pointed at Gemma, still squatting on the marble table. “I’d like to buy her.”
Stella frowned at her. “She’s not for sale at the moment, dear. Brutus is using her in a series. I can’t remember what. Bukkake I think.”
Lara put on her best pout. “Can I rent her then ? Take her away from here a while.”
“I know that look.” Stella smiled. “What do you want her for ?”
Lara knew that Stella didn’t really approve of her lesbianism but her aunt put family before principle and tolerated it.
“I would have thought that was obvious !” she replied with a grin.
“You can get a million bitches to lick that hot pussy of yours. Why her ?”
Lara glanced over her shoulder. “There’s something about her. I want to break her down. Really get inside her head. Fuck with it.”
Stella laughed. “Sounds like you’ve fallen for her, Lara.”
Lara looked indignant. To fall for a slave romantically was the ultimate faux pas in the new world. “I have not.” She replied.
“I’ll speak to your uncle.” Stella said with finality. “In the meantime, do what you like with her but no real damage, right ?”
Lara smiled. “Thanks.”
*** *** ***
Gemma pulled on it with her teeth. The thin blue string tightened.
Lara watched her and giggled. She was at the height of her period. The cramps were passed but the thick red flow would be plentiful. Given a choice between eating the copious bucketful of her own shit and spending the evening getting ‘better acquainted’ with Lara, Gemma had naturally chosen the latter option, even though she clearly didn’t have a lesbian bone in her body.
Slowly the expanded, soggy pink tampon with glutinous red streaks slid out from between Lara’s labia.
“Oooh dear,” she said, “I thought I was over the worst. Are you sure that you don’t want to change your mind ?”
The stinking yellow plastic bucket had been left outside the door, still threatening, still available.
“
“Do I ?” Lara smiled coquettishly. “Mmm…I suppose I must when all you usually see are nasty men and other slaves. Chew on that.”
Gemma gulped and manoeuvred the used tampon into her mouth with her tongue. Lara studied her like a cat playing with a mouse.
“You are missing your evening meal aren’t you ? We wouldn’t want you to go hungry, after all. Suck all the goodness out of that thing.”
Gemma
Gemma ran her tongue just inside the swollen lips of Lara’s vagina, teasing her but not enough to annoy her. She tried to imagine everything that the most perfect boyfriend in the world, skilled at cunnilingus and making love, would be doing to her. She had already lapped at the rim of Lara’s bottom and humbly kissed every millimetre of her backside and inner thighs. Lara just lay back lazily and silently, flicking through a magazine, not giving her even the slightest feedback or encouragement. Carefully, she probed Lara’s prominent clitoris with the tip of her tongue.
Lara
Lara sat in a silk gown and ate heartily. In contrast to the food given to slaves, the kitchens for the owners, staff and guests, offered some of the best prepared, most rare black market food and drink available. On her tray were a steaming bowl of seafood pasta, hot garlic bread, a fresh green salad and half bottles of red wine and sparkling water.
Her sexual appetite temporarily sated by three fierce orgasms, Lara had suddenly noticed her other hunger, and ordered a ‘room service’ supper, delivered by a slave waitress. On the television monitor in the background, the State Channel was broadcasting lists of names and photos of the slaves to be auctioned on the next day. Lara had one eye on the screen and one on her “new girlfriend”.
Gemma simply knelt and watched her eating in silence. On a tray on the floor, the slave’s ‘special’ that Lara had thoughtfully ordered glistened unappetisingly. The contrast between the two meals couldn’t have been more pronounced. The sweet garlicky aroma of the hot pasta and bread in comparison to the fetid stench of the congealed brown triangle lying in a cold gravy of what looked and smelt distinctly like urine.
Lara forked up another mouthful of pasta and smacked her lips. She grinned at Gemma’s kneeling, naked body, her pendulous breasts and narrow waist, sweet face and librarian spectacles. Gemma’s thighs were spread as wide as possible, displaying her “beef curtains” as Lara had decided to nickname them. Lara liked her. A lot. But in Lara’s mind that didn’t mean she had to feel any pity for her.
On the contrary in fact.
“Mmm, good.” Lara said, proferring a morsel of garlic bread. “Try.”
Gemma shuffled forward and opened her mouth, taking the piece from Lara’s outstretched fingers. She ate enthusiastically, gratefully.
Lara sipped her wine and laughed. “I bet licking menstrual pussy for an hour gives you an appetite, yes ?”
Gemma nodded. “Yes, Miss.”
“Pass me up your tray.”
Lara pushed her own tray over to a side table and took Gemma’s tray onto her lap. Gemma knelt peering over the other side of the tray. They both stared down.
Lara reached for her own fork, prodded the thick, gelatinous slice and made it quiver in the bowl.
“Mmm…” she said, running her tongue along her mocking upper lip.
She mashed the fork through an edge and spread the mouthful into pieces, exposing the red, green and brown strands and various lumps inside it.
“Yummy. Mouth wide open.”
She forked up a thick helping and dropped it onto Gemma’s tongue.
“Mmm…what is that, bits of cabbage and tomato, nails and er … pubes ?”
Gemma stared straight into Lara’s eyes, her throat gagged, but she munched, teeth crunching on finger and toenails, and swallowed.
Lara nodded approvingly and forked up a second, larger mouthful. To emphasise the difference, she reached out for her own glass of red wine and swallowed a gulp, while dumping the fork load into Gemma’s mouth.
Ten minutes later, Lara forked up the final remnants from the bowl. There was a particularly thick, yellow toenail that was bound to have lots of good nutrients in it. She knew that Stella gave the slaves’ chef an extraordinarily low budget for food. The same amount of credits that Lara spent on her lunchtime snack at the State canteen, was used to feed 200 slaves per day ! Lara loved the ingenuity with which the Chef managed to make around 600 servings daily out of the same money she casually wasted on a sandwich that she then left half of.
She pushed the last toenail into Gemma’s mouth and watched her crunch it. Bits of pubic hair, nail, and putrid vegetable were stuck in the girl’s teeth as she opened her mouth to receive it. Lara looked deep and enquiringly into Gemma’s hazel coloured eyes.
She was so intrigued. What must it be like to be in her situation; bukkake movies, forced lesbianism, and eating filth ? Lara had no idea how she would handle it herself. Nor did she care. She didn’t want to win Gemma’s affection. Shit, she had no interest in romance. She lusted after Gemma and that was all she cared about. All she wanted was her complete and utter worship. She wanted Gemma to think of her the way that terrified primitives used to worship their planetary gods.
Lara lifted the tray away and laid it next to her own, half finished, but still tempting meal. She took a sip of wine and smiled.
“Full ?” she asked.
Gemma’s glance gave her away. For a fleeting second she peeked at Lara’s tray and then back. “Yes, Miss.”
Lara chuckled. “Tell me the truth.”
Gemma paused. “N … no, Miss.”
There was a long silence.
“Open your mouth. Show me your teeth.”
Gemma pulled her lips back and parted her mouth in a wide ‘o’.
Lara stared at the brown hairs stuck in Gemma’s teeth like dental floss and bits of red and brown gunk glued to her gums.
“Go into my bathroom and clean your mouth out. Use floss, a toothpick, a new toothbrush. And brush with soap, not toothpaste, then rinse with mouthwash.”
Lara watched her go. She’d been tempted to make her use the toothbrush that was kept alongside the toilet brush for scrubbing skid marks from the pan, but she didn’t want germs in Gemma’s mouth for what she planned next.
“And hurry. I’ll be there in two minutes and I’d better find your teeth and mouth totally clean !”
Lara smiled, listening to the poor woman flossing and brushing. Her huge, luxurious bathroom with Jacuzzi tub, steam shower, twin basins, throne toilet, day bed, wall of wardrobes and dressing table, was larger than the entire cell that housed the cages, in just one of which Gemma slept. She listened to her gargling the mouthwash and spitting, then rinsing the basin clean.
Lara stood up, her silk robe falling open, and walked into the bathroom.
“Show.”
She examined the presented mouth and tongue and sniffed the scent of soap and mouthwash approvingly. Gently she removed Gemma’s spectacles from her nose and placed them on the side of the basin.
“Lay down in the Jacuzzi there, face up.”
She watched Gemma climb into the large white bath, eyeing her heavy breasts and slim waist hungrily. Slowly, Lara shucked off her robe and stepped in over Gemma, lowering her thick, untrimmed bush down. She chose to wear her pubes long, luxurious, au naturel.
“I know you like piss. Open.”
Lara watched dispassionately as her initial spray soaked Gemma’s face and shoulders and then became a single fierce jet as her labia opened fully.
She adjusted her hips and aimed straight into Gemma’s wide open, freshly soaped mouth. A little gas escaped from her anus as her insides relaxed and she grinned down into Gemma’s hazel eyes and overflowing face.
“Lick.” She ordered.
Gemma gulped down a hot mouthful and her tongue came out as Lara lowered her still urinating, menstrual pussy directly onto Gemma’s lips. Then Lara shifted her weight and gave Gemma her bottom to tongue, with the result that her piss rose in an arc over Gemma’s face, splashed against the tub, and ran down into her hair.
Finally, at last, Lara’s copious flow ceased.
She continued to rub her wet buttocks either side of Gemma’s tongue and nose. Smirking, she felt a telltale stirring in her bowels and passed another silent, but larger bubble of gas. This time, in seconds, a rich, full aroma of sulphur filled the air around them.
Gemma had retracted her tongue.
Lara’s fingernails pinched Gemma’s earlobe cruelly. “Lick, don’t stop, bitch.”
She closed her eyes in bliss as the soft tongue went back inside her. She couldn’t decide whether her climax was going to come first, or her bowel movement. She reached down and stroked her clit to bring herself off, and then gasped as her sphincter muscle opened.
She shrieked as her orgasm started and simultaneously lifted her buttocks to allow the first dry, solid turd to nudge its way out and drop onto Gemma’s grimacing face.
“Yessssss … ssss ….sss …mmmm…” Lara hissed in orgasmic triumph.
Two more smaller stools soon followed as her climax subsided. She straightened up on her knees and watched them plop, one onto Gemma’s neck, the other between her breasts.
“Lie still.” She said, pushing herself back to plonk down astride Gemma’s waist, her bottom smearing the woman’s tummy.
Lara giggled at the sight of the three brown logs deposited on Gemma’s pale skin. Tentatively, she picked up the one that was about to tumble from Gemma’s neck into the bath and placed it neatly alongside the one on her tits, like a pair of nipple decorations.
“Mouth open.”
The turd on Gemma’s face was lying across her lips, nose and cheek. Gemma opened her lips cautiously and it slid away from her mouth.
“Pl… ease, Miss, … n … not this …”
Lara relished her surge of power.
“Why not ? You know this goes on here. Why do you think we spend valuable Credits on powerful antibiotics and antitoxins for slaves ? Give me just one good reason why I should spare you in particular.”
A tear trickled down the side of Gemma’s temple.
“I … can’t Miss, but I’m begging y …you, please…I’ll do anything …”
Lara smiled down at her, mock-kindly. There was no rush. This bitch would eat a bucket load of slime in time. Lara held all the aces. She didn’t need to play them all at once. After all, the woman had already given Lara her first ever simultaneous climax and dump.
Maybe she deserved a break ?
“Tell me what you’ll do.”
“Anything, Miss.”
“No. You think of something. Amuse me.”
It was the second time that day she had asked her the same question. Gemma blinked up at her nervously, obviously thinking hard.
“I … can’t Miss … I just want to please you Miss …”
Lara reached down and picked up the largest log from Gemma’s face.
“Kiss it. Don’t eat it, just kiss it.”
Gemma slowly puckered her lips and touched them to the firm, glistening piece. Lara watched the bile obviously rise in her throat as she gagged.
“I will make a deal with you.” Lara began, magnanimously. “For the next week you will be my dedicated toilet slave. Every time I go, you will attend me. When I piss you will drink it. When I shit, whether I go on your face and body, or in the toilet, you will always clean up lovingly. My waste will become your best friend in the world. Understood ?”
Gemma seemed to realise it was a good deal. “Y ..yes Miss.”
Lara nodded, carefully lining up all three pieces of excrement on Gemma’s breasts.
“I’m not finished. We will review the situation in a week and at that stage all bets are off. Secondly, if you fail to meet your side of the bargain, if you recoil from my waste, or show it any disrespect, I will place you in the Hell Hole lavatories for the rest of your days.”
Lara paused.
Gemma gave her a cautious nod of acceptance.
“Thirdly, I am going to have your clitoris numbed.”
Gemma stared up at her in shock.
“First thing tomorrow. It will last about a week. The duration of our deal. Maybe a bit longer. You will have no feeling and to all intents and purposes it will be like having your clit removed. It will help you to concentrate on giving me pleasure instead.”
Gemma’s mouth opened to speak but then she obviously thought better of it.
“And others. I may be mainly lesbian myself,” Lara said, “but I enjoy watching women and men together occasionally. For the next seven days I’ve taken the week off work and I’m going to take direct control of your life here. I’m going to choose your partners, your activities and everything else.”
Another tear seeped out of the side of Gemma’s right eye.
“And I should warn you that I don’t think a healthy 22 year old beauty like you should be stinting with her favours ! Those guys in your bukkake movie debut were sex gods compared with the partners I’ll select for you. I have a particular penchant for very old men. They are always so appreciative of young pussy. Quality - or lack of it - will be more important than quantity, but I’m sure we’ll find time to ensure you get both. And I think we’ll mainly use that bottom of yours since it’s the thing I’m least interested in and the thing that dirty old men seem to prefer. And your arsehole is probably the thing you enjoy least too, isn’t it ?”
Gemma bit her quivering lip and nodded, silently crying now.
“But I’m sure we’ll let a few slide up that cunt too and so I wouldn’t want that sluttish clit of yours distracting you from your duties.”
Lara sat up off Gemma’s tummy and climbed out of the Jacuzzi.
“Yes, we’re going to get on fine you and me, I can see that. Now get up, flush those disgusting things down the toilet, then come wipe my bottom with paper. Next, take a cold shower yourself and then go and bend over my bed. I fancy giving those butt cheeks of yours a little spanking before turning in for the night. I shall call a guard to come and return you to your cage in 15 minutes. I’m sure you’ll sleep better in your own bed !”
The Next Day
Gemma lay on the gynaecological gurney. She had been strapped firmly down by Doctor Thorne. Her legs were held up and wide in metal stirrups.
“So,” the Doctor said, “Miss Lara wants your clitoris numbed, does she ?”
Gemma nodded nervously at the matronly, grey haired woman.
“Did she catch you masturbating ?”
“No, Doctor.”
Gemma felt her skilfully probing and unhooding her clitoris.
“No ? Do you masturbate ?”
“Never …. well, not since I came here, Doctor.”
It was true. Gemma had never had a high libido, certainly for ‘self love’. She had always considered other things in life and relationships more important than sex. It wasn’t a priority. Sure, she had learned to quite enjoy making love with the two boyfriends she’d had, as a giving, sensual experience, but she had almost never reached a climax. She just didn’t need them often.
The Doctor smiled, teasing a finger up and down Gemma’s dry slit.
“Well you won’t be able to once I’ve injected it with this.”
Gemma stared at the large syringe with a long needle the Doctor held up.
“Just in case you were wondering, yes it will hurt. No simple ‘prick and it’s done’. This injection takes a couple of minutes to administer. You must remain completely still, understood ?”
Gemma nodded her head slowly.
“The needle itself will hurt. The fact that it’s going into your clit will hurt even more. Soon your whole vaginal area will start to burn intensely, probably for about ten minutes. After that, everything will return pretty much to normal except you won’t feel a thing … there … for at least a week, probably nearer two.” She waved the syringe in front of Emma’s face. “Extra large dose, you see.”
Gemma’s felt the woman roughly parting her labial lips wide.
“Shift your butt forward slightly. Good. Okay, now keep completely still and silent. If you don’t, I will use an even longer, thicker needle.”
Gemma grimaced in silent agony as the tip pierced her tender sex.
Lara
Lara giggled at Gemma, who was scarlet faced and heavily perspiring. She was kneeling on the floor eating the special ‘second breakfast’ that Lara had thoughtfully arranged for her as soon as she had finished at the doctor’s surgery. The steaming bowl was laid on a low table between them.
Nobody much
cares for curry at
Still less a super-hot and spicy Vindaloo curry.
And even less a ‘curry slurry’.
The previous evening, at Lara’s request, the chef had brewed up an a la carte dish of liquidized offal, mainly giblets and intestines, to which he had added several heaped spoons of curry powder, red chillies and spices, leaving it to simmer overnight.
The helping was enormous. The deep bowl had been filled to the brim. Painfully slowly, Gemma was working her way through it. Lara sat watching her put her lips to the swill to suck up mouthfuls of the brutally spicy brown mixture. Gemma gasped, panted and gulped, steam almost visibly rising from her ears and nostrils as she ate. It was a small mercy that the curry probably disguised the worst of the taste of rancid offal.
Lara popped another piece of warm, buttered croissant into her own mouth.
“Come on, doll. Faster, or I might think you would prefer something else.”
Gemma’s looked up at her through her misted up spectacles and red-rimmed, watering eyes and shook her head. She buried her face in the bowl and slurped up an especially large mouthful.
Lara smiled. Gemma didn’t know it but the mixture contained another ingredient, added that morning, so that the effects wouldn’t be cooked away.
A powerful laxative ! Within an hour or so, she would be full to bursting and desperate to void her bowels. Needless to say, Lara had no intention of letting her off that easily.
The interesting email she had received earlier would see to that.
“Even faster. Hoover it all up. I want that bowl licked sparkling clean.”
Gemma
Gemma was heaving for breath, sucking up huge lungfuls of air.
Were they called Jumping Jacks or Star Jumps ?
She was too exhausted to remember. Lara had her doing jumping exercises, clapping her hands above her head while opening her legs wide, then snapping her arms back down to her side and hopping her legs together.
Repeat.
Repeat.
One jump per second.
In bursts of thirty, followed by a short respite to get her breath back, and then another set of thirty.
In all, she had already done one hundred and eighty.
Before them, she had been made to do push ups, stomach crunches, knee squats and jogging on the spot. Lara’s excuse for this physical torture was that she was fat and untoned, although Gemma knew that she was actually underweight from the awful diet she’d been fed these past weeks.
“Let’s do one more set, shall we ?” The ‘cow’ said to her, smirking.
Gemma sucked in a large breath, stood to attention and began to jump. Again. Her glasses bounced on the bridge of her nose and her large breasts flopped about across her chest as if they had a mind of her own. They hurt. But not as much as the stitch in her side and the gradual cramping in her stomach. She felt nauseous from the physical effort, especially so soon after a heavy meal. Light headed, she did her best to focus straight ahead. The cow wasn’t even looking at her any more, she was flicking through a sheaf of papers she’d downloaded from her computer. Occasionally she glanced up and checked on the quality of Gemma’s jumps.
“Arms higher you lazy slut. And legs wide ! ” She shouted at her, before looking down again.
Gemma gasped as her breakfast quietly repeated on her. The strong curry belch tasted awful in her parched mouth. Worse, she felt the need to pass wind from below, something she knew that the cow would be furious about. One of the first rules every slave learned was that all bodily functions, including eating, drinking, urinating, defecating, even sneezing and farting, and especially climaxing, were strictly forbidden without prior permission.
She counted the thirty jumps, arms and legs aching, and worst of all her stomach lurching up and down.
… twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty.
She stopped and bent over. Her spectacles tumbled off her nose onto the floor. Like a knife, the sudden clench of her guts, made her wince.
She knew she was going to have to ask permission to use the toilet.
Lara
Lara stood back to admire her handiwork. Gemma was now suspended in the centre of her bedroom, wrists in a spreader bar chained to a bolt in the wooden beam, and ankles chained wide apart to bolts in the floor. Every nerve and sinew stood out as Gemma’s glistening body strained for comfort.
Lara pulled up a stool and sat in front of her naked slave.
She ran the feather up inside Gemma’s cunt lips, grazing her clitoris.
“You really can’t feel a thing ?”
“Not … there. Just a tickle elsewhere, Mistress.”
Lara laughed aloud, discarding the feather.
“Excellent.”
She leaned her head close to Gemma’s taut stomach.
“Was that a tummy rumble I heard ?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Naughty, naughty. That counts as a bodily function you know. You should have asked permission.”
“Sorry, Mistress.” Gemma’s face screwed up. “Ple …” Then she stopped, seeming to have thought better of it.
“What ?” Lara asked in a teasing, sing-song voice. “Go on.”
“Please, Mistress. I need to do another … tummy rumble Mistress.”
Lara ran a fingernail upwards through the ‘brazilian’ strip of pubic hair that Gemma had been allowed to keep, on up into her belly button.
“Go on then.”
There was a distinct sound, like a creaking door.
Lara chuckled and fetched the sheaf of papers she’d downloaded earlier.
It was time for Gemma to understand the rules of this game.
“Tell me about Dave.” She said.
Gemma reacted like a startled rabbit. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.
“D …. Dave ?”
Lara was delighted. She flicked through the pages.
“Here we
are. Two known boyfriends. One, Dave
Wilson. Born
Lara proferred a grainy black and white image. Grainy, but clear enough.
It showed a young man and a younger Gemma smiling side by side.
“See ?”
“Oh … Dave. Yes, Mistress. He was a fr … friend of mine.”
“And how about Steve ?”
“Yes, Mistress. He was my boyfriend when I was arrested, Mistress.”
“Yes. Interesting.” Lara said, stretching out the word ‘int … er … est … ing’.
“I thought you’d gone bankrupt. But this Stalitz Report tells me that, in fact, you were arrested for stealing.”
Gemma grimaced as her stomach gave a deep growl.
“Yes Mistress. I’m sorry Mistress.”
Lara decided to ignore the infraction. “What did you steal ?”
“A bag of sausages, Mistress.”
Lara smiled. “Mmm. The most expensive half dozen sausages you ever ate, right ?”
Gemma stared straight ahead. “I was arrested before we could eat them, Mistress.”
Lara arched an eyebrow.
“We ? It says you were arrested alone.”
Gemma gulped. “Please, Mistress. I need … to g.. go to the toilet.”
“Stuff and nonsense.” Lara barked, sharply. “You will learn to control yourself.” She paused to pick up the feather.
“Now, who was your accomplice ?”
“Nobody, Mistress. I meant ‘we’ meaning anybody I might have shared them with. Lots of people were hungry, Mistress. Bankrupt, starving.”
Lara moved the stool round Gemma and sat on it behind her, facing her bottom. She trailed the feather slowly across Gemma’s pale globes.
“Just because a few people are hungry doesn’t mean they can steal.” Lara admonished, mouthing the State’s brutal official policy. She tilted the feather and eased it, ever so slowly, between the curves of Gemma’s butt crack.
“Aah … ngh …” Gemma murmured a grunt of shock.
Lara smiled quietly and removed the feather momentarily.
“Tell me about Michelle then.”
“M … Michelle ?”
Lara slid the feather up into the entrance to Gemma’s bottom.
“Yes, your best friend, Michelle.”
Gemma’s body seemed to sag slightly, as much as was possible, given the way she was strung up taut and spread eagled.
“She was … I lived with her Mistress.”
“Aha. And I thought I was your first female lover !”
“No, Mistress. I mean you are. Michelle is just a friend, Mistress. We both … she liked men, Mistress.”
Gemma’s stomach growled loudly again. Her buttocks clenched tightly around the feather that Lara had inserted an inch or so inside her.
“Control, please.” Said Lara, secretly delighted. “And where is this Michelle now ?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Mistress. I last saw her the morning I was arrested. I have never seen or heard of her again, Mistress.”
Lara twisted the feather.
“But I know where she is.”
Gemma’s mouth made an audible pop sound as her jaw fell open.
Lara teased the feather in and out, very slowly, like a slow motion saw.
“At the moment, she’s at the Stalitz Offices on suspicion of being your accomplice.”
Gemma groaned. The sound came from her mouth, not her rumbling stomach.
“And I think she’s probably guilty, don’t you ?”
Lara climbed off the stool and left the feather poking out of Gemma’s backside like a flag in a conquered mountain. She walked round to look Gemma full in the face. With a grin, Lara lifted the spectacles and perched them on top of Gemma’s hair, so she could stare deep into her soul.
The girl’s tortoiseshell spectacles matched her hazel eyes sweetly.
“You can be the jury.”
It was a joke. Juries no longer existed. Nowadays State Judges made all decisions of innocence and guilt.
But people could still remember what a jury was.
Gemma blinked uncertainly. “I … jury … how, Mistress ?”
Lara leant forward and kissed Gemma full on the lips, giving her the tip of her tongue for a second.
“You have to exercise control.” She giggled.
Gemma frowned, still confused.
“It’s simple.” Said Lara, thoroughly enjoying herself. “If you keep control of your bowels for as long as I tell you, then your dear friend Michelle is obviously innocent. But if you lose control at any time beforehand, I’m afraid she’ll be found guilty and sentenced to slavery. For life of course.”
Gemma understood. She seemed to get renewed strength. Her body tightened and her eyes focused.
“H .. how long, please, Mistress ? Will you t … tell me, how long ?”
Lara pirouetted a full circle like a ballerina with excitement.
What a
game !
“Six hours.” She said. “One hour for each sausage that you stole.”
Gemma’s eyes screwed slowly shut. She sagged again in her chains.
“I … I can’t …. ple … Mistress … less …”
Lara shrugged. “But at least you can do your girlfriend the favour of trying. If you don’t even try, she hasn’t got a chance, poor bitch.”
Lara left Gemma with that thought and walked through to the bathroom. She wanted to give Gemma time to steel herself. It wouldn’t be fun if she didn’t suffer the cramping agonies of trying to hold out for a while at least.
She left the door open so that Gemma could listen to her relieving herself. Lara sat on the toilet and noisily sprayed her morning coffee and juice into the removable plastic pan that sat under the seat and above the flushable water. After she’d finished, she lifted the pan out and carefully tipped the sloshing contents into a small barrel like container she kept in a cupboard next to the toilet.
She smiled happily and began to hum a little song.
Michelle
The suspect fought. But, outside of those silly pre-Pestilence movies featuring martial-arts-trained women, no female can beat five males, and especially not five highly skilled, 6’ plus, Stalitz interrogators, when she herself is only 5 ft 4 ins tall.
They had decided to extract a confession from her, assuming they would get the call saying she was guilty.
It would speed up the paperwork.
If the call said she was innocent, well, so be it.
There was nothing an ordinary citizen could do against the dreaded Stalitz Police.
First they raped her. Not really as part of the interrogation, but simply because they all fancied the sexy, unemployed actress. She was a strawberry blonde, aged 23 according to her papers, with refined, well bred features and an arse that looked great in the denim shorts she’d been wearing when they picked her up. They tied her over the desk in an interrogation room and banged her front and back, singly and in pairs, passing their breakfast hour very pleasantly.
Next they used the electric shock Q & A machine, attached to her nipples, and it took a mere sixteen minutes for her to make a recorded voluntary confession on camera, with a signed statement to the same effect.
At just after ten o’clock, they left Michelle tied there sobbing and went about their other business, awaiting their boss’s call.
Gemma
Gemma watched Lara glance at her watch.
The cow was casually tickling a green frond under Gemma’s nose, making her snitch.
Lara had replaced the teasing feather with a bunch of freshly cut, acid-dripping, stinging nettles.
Already she had sensuously draped the evil stingers all over Gemma’s helpless breasts, stomach and labia, producing violent red inflammation on her soft skin. Then she had pushed a glove full of nettles agonisingly up into the cleft between her buttocks and laughed at Gemma clenching and unclenching her cheeks, trying to disperse the fearful, burning itch.
And of course, she had now also teasingly placed an empty plastic yellow bucket between Gemma’s feet, just in case of any ‘little accidents’.
“Coming up to an hour. So only five to go.”
Hah,
bloody hah !
The cow stared deep into her eyes inquisitively.
“Please don’t give up.” She smirked. “Think of Michelle.”
Gemma just stared back at her. In truth, she couldn’t think of anything but the dreadful stinging that she desperately wanted to ease by scratching.
Except, of course, she could also think of her bottom.
She had felt the inexorable journey of the curried breakfast through her digestive system, and finally down her colon. Eventually it had lodged in her bottom, literally just the other side of her anal sphincter muscle. Gradually, she felt it loosening, virtually becoming a liquid, inside her.
Gemma had only ever had an enema once, just before the terrible Bukkake film when they had wanted to clean her out completely.
This felt the same but even worse.
That enema had been water based and they had only wanted her to hold it a couple of minutes. But holding back something much heavier, for much longer, was much, much harder.
Harder still was the fact that, with her legs chained wide apart to bolts in the floor, she couldn’t clench her buttocks properly. All she could do was tighten her muscles as best she could as the diarrhoea swirled just inside her, like a marauding army searching for a weak spot in a castle’s defences.
She knew it was a million to one she could hold out for five more hours of this. But something inside her made her want to resist this fucking cow as long as possible.
It wasn’t about Michelle any more.
Well, it was, but mainly it was about the two of them.
Gemma versus the cow.
That was her only bit of resistance. Silently naming her the cow. She actually looked more like an elegant rodent but somehow ‘cow’ suited her more. Gemma winced as yet another knife spasm speared her guts but managed to compose herself before disaster occurred.
Lara chuckled at her.
“Well, it’s going to be a long old day.” She said, switching on the wall mounted screen. A picture of an excited studio audience appeared on it.
“So let’s watch ER together and imagine Michelle starring in it.”
Gemma blinked, confused, unable to think properly. Michelle in a hospital drama. Hadn’t there been something like that on TV a few years back ?
Lara giggled, flopping down to sprawl on the comfortable sofa, obviously reading her confusion.
“No, silly !” she said, turning to look up at her over the back of the sofa. “Not that old ER. The new one. Produced by my Aunt Stella. ER ! Enemies Reunited !”
Lara
After the first part of the show, Lara turned and smiled at her victim over the back of the sofa, as the first ad appeared on the screen.
“Damn, I love this show !” she exclaimed. “You ?”
Gemma stared back at her. Not insolently or sullenly. Her eyes were simply glazed over, as if she couldn’t really think about anything at all. Their hazel colour seemed to have darkened to a rich expresso.
So full of shit, her eyes had turned
brown !
Lara smiled, her pussy moist and ripe with anticipation.
She couldn’t wait to play Michelle and this one off against each other. She had such amusements planned. Her original intentions for Gemma from the previous evening had subtly changed, now that a third person had been invited to join the party, so to speak.
Lara stood up and sidled over to Gemma. She gazed intently into her bespectacled eyes.
Both of them glared at each other.
Eventually Lara giggled.
“How’s Michelle’s supper ?” she asked.
In truth, Lara knew it would be the next morning before Michelle was delivered but there was no need for Gemma to know that yet.
Gemma looked at her confused for a moment. Then she scowled.
Lara lifted her right hand and slowly ran her index finger down from Gemma’s chin, over her throat, to those heavy, pale breasts, each now goose-bumped with inflamed nettle rash. She idly teased the itching spots a while, scratching up a bit of poison to the surface, then slid her finger sensuously down to admire the gentle curve of Gemma’s distended belly.
“Poor Michelle. Not only will you condemn her by losing control of your disgusting bowels. But then she will have to consume the evidence of your lack of control.
What will she think of you, when she finds out that she would have been found innocent, if only you could just have held out a little longer ? It’ll be enough to make her choke on her food I expect !”
Lara slowly circled her as she spoke, finally stopping behind her back. She knelt and put her index finger at the rim of Gemma’s bottom.
“Curried excrement. Yours. Just imagine !”
Gemma was silent. Her tense body spoke for her.
Lara could tell she had just stiffened her victim’s sinews for yet a few more minutes. Excellent.
Lara pulled on a glove and grasped a fresh green bunch of nettles from a tall vase. She pressed them against the backs of Gemma’s knees, watching her flinch delightfully, tiny pale bumps bubbling up on cherry coloured skin. She pushed them up her inner thighs, and then trailed a single leaf right into the darker skin of Gemma’s brown rim.
At that moment, there was a quiet, but unmistakeable hiss of gas as Gemma passed wind involuntarily, almost over Lara’s hand.
Lara recoiled.
She sniffed. Very quickly an incredibly strong, fetid stench invaded her nostrils. Simultaneously amused and enraged, she walked round to face an obviously terrified Gemma.
“S … sorry …. Mistress.” She said, eyes downcast.
Lara sniffed again, staring at her.
“This …” Lara hissed, “you fucking bitch, is not a democracy ! I can do things that you cannot. For any slave to pass wind without permission is unforgivable. For you, my personal slave, to do so in my face, is ….” She fanned at the air with her hand, lost for words.
“All I can say is,” Lara eventually managed to continue, “that I took that insult very personally.”
A cheering noise from the screen signalled the restart of the ER Show.
“And I can certainly think of some suitable insults to throw back at you over the next few days !”
With that, she hurled down the nettles and gloves and sat back on the sofa, arms folded.
*** *** ***
The inevitable happened after two hours and twenty three terrible minutes. Gemma’s sphincter gave out and a tiny trickle of diarrhoea slid down her inside leg. Lara giggled excitedly. She rushed over and stood facing Gemma, stroking her face.
“Let it out, baby. Game’s over. Michele’s guilty.”
Big, wet, silent tears slid down Gemma’s cheeks. Lara pushed at her stomach firmly, digging in with her elegant red nails.
“Come on. Empty yourself and fill the bucket.”
She walked over to the screen and flamboyantly pressed ‘send’ so that Gemma could see the email depart.
“Guilty ! Don’t say I wasn’t fair. I waited until the verdict.”
Gemma broke into loud sobs and there was a sound from behind her like a torrent of running water. It continued for over fifteen seconds as a horrible stench filled the room.
Lara lifted a pre-prepared, heavily perfumed hanky to her face. She peered round the side of Gemma’s hips down into the bucket, then back at her face.
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear ! Poor, poor Michelle.”
That Night
In her separate wing of the large old mansion, Lara was lying face down across the satin sheets. It was difficult to know if she asleep or awake. Two tall church candles in glass containers still flickered, lighting the room with a soft, gentle light.
Also lying face down, in the gap between Lara’s legs, was Gemma. She was ever-so-gently tonguing Lara’s bottom, more of a stroking massage than a sexual act. She had already been doing it for over an hour and she would continue to do it all night.
Each woman was having her own private thoughts about the arrival of Michelle in the morning.
The Next Day
The big delivery cart arrived at the Compound groaning under the weight of twenty cages.
Only nineteen of them were occupied. There were sixteen purchases for Brutus Junior and a pair for Stella.
Plus a single female.
Guards unloaded the filthy, bedraggled occupants and began processing them immediately.
Last out of the nineteen cages came a sexy, angular, strawberry blonde, early twenties, about five feet four tall, with a mass of pretty freckles, blue eyes, and a superb butt.
Her name was Michelle.
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