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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.
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