Chapter 2. Training Compound
Turning into my street I checked the house security system from the panel on my
dash. All was well. With the push of a button the street door in the wall
surrounding the house opened silently. Another fifty feet and I was in my
attached garage, the heavy door closing behind me. Walking in to the living
room, I felt the cool air as it poured out of vents above my floor to ceiling
windows as I settled into an over stuffed chair. The city lights blinking in the
evening light, the narrow streets of the old city section formed little ribbons
of yellow. This was the government area bordering the river. Out at sea
Catherine Island glowed with tourist hotels, casinos, and clubs. A few miles to
the north Wakara Island was dark. The military base now closed the island still
off limits. The only activity being in the secret underground cells that held
special prisoners for Unit A, an off the books branch of the Security Forces. I
had never been to the island. It was not wise to ask questions about Unit A. A
few ships far out at sea moved slowly. To the south Varia peninsula was coming
to life. The long narrow spit of land a few miles wide jutted out into the
ocean. Its bars and brothels attracted both tourists and locals. The road in and
out was controlled by a security checkpoint, looking for intoxicated drivers on
the way out and minors on the way in. Many of the brothels were staffed by
prison inmates who served part or all of their terms dancing on stage, and
servicing the endless stream of customers of all tastes, from plush party rooms
to 'pain sluts' in the lower levels. When a prisoner started brothel service
everyone she had worked with was notified so they might visit her. Many
employees reveled in seeing their former office manager writhing naked on stage
or howling in the pain cells, as customers paid by the lash.
With a glass of Roja in one hand I pushed the button on my answering machine.
A gruff voice came on, 'Check the monitor for #432 and stop over in the
morning.' It was General Gustof, retired head of state security. He now lived on
a plantation just over the coastal range. It must be something important if he
wanted to see me. Though officially retired, I knew he worked on special
projects.
Punching in the numbers on a the coded remote the thirty-six-inch TV came to
life. This was a direct hookup to the interrogation unit below the courthouse in
the old section of the city. The picture was a little dim but still visible, at
the bottom it read, 'Cell #432, Pauline Gomez, age 48'. I leaned closer, the
name was familiar, a university professor with rebel contacts, she had been
under surveillance for some time. I saw her now, suspended by her wrists in the
center of the cell, legs chained out wide by a spreader bar, toes just touching
the floor. She was naked, writhing under the hard lashes of a guard's short whip
as he worked over her heavy sagging breasts. From the looks of it they had been
at it a while, her back, butt, and thighs criss-crossed with livid lash marks
glistened under a heavy coat of bearded sweat in the overhead light. A thin
chain hung down between her legs, one end apparently clamped painfully to her
clitoris. Sweat flew off the whip with each lash as her large pink nippled tits
flung back and forth from the powerful blows. Loud animal like grunts echoed off
the walls, her chest heaving when the guard rested between sets of lashes. She
clenched and unclenched her fists. Even at her age she was a handsome woman,
legs still firm, only a little belly on her from having had one daughter. I
could not make out her face with her head thrown back, mouth open, neck
streaming with sweat, but I had seen her speak at the university. She was an
accomplished speaker. Impressionable young students could read between the lines
of her carefully crafted lectures. But I was surprised that she had been picked
up. No doubt she would not be going back to the university after an
interrogation like this! Looking closely I could see in the shadows, leaning
against the back wall of the cell, jail warden Adrian Frank, and my boss,
Lieutenant Brazer current head of State Security. Tomorrow I would find out what
this was all about.
Clicking off the TV I went to the window. Below the cliff on which the house
set was a small-secluded, wooded park just off the main road. Looking down I saw
a patrol car stopped next to an older model red vehicle. Splayed out on the hood
of the patrol car was the driver, a dark haired woman in her mid thirties
dressed in jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt. She had her arms out stretched on the
hood and her legs wide. The two security officers where searching her. One
pulled her T-shirt up, exposing small high breasts, while the other pulled her
jeans and panties down to her ankles making her step out of them. They left her
like that for a short time then returned. I could see them speaking to her. She
nodded, pulled off her T-shirt, got on her knees and unzipped one of the
officer's pants. Soon she was sucking both their cocks, her head bobbing up and
down. When both here hard, she turned, bend forward at the waist in a wide
stance, and griped the bars on the front grill of the patrol car. For the next
half-hour they took turns fucking her, alternating between anus and cunt. In the
end they drove off leaving her exhausted on her knees. She crawled to her car,
getting dressed as best she could, before she too drove slowly away, having
avoided a trip to headquarters. She got off easy, wise to offer her self rather
then be taken in to headquarters. A trip to headquarters can last a week or
more! Likely she had some history that could have landed her back in prison. The
penalties for violation of parole are severe.
The next morning I left early to see General Gustof, it was Sunday and I wanted
to get home by mid afternoon. The temperature already risen into the nineties.
The road to his place passed through part of the military area of Camp 5. I
quickly got through the two checkpoints. For the next thirty miles I was the
only car on the road. It felt both good and bad. It was peaceful but there was
always the concern of a rebel ambush, however unlikely this close to the city.
The Department of Prisons had issued me an MP-5, several grenades, a Glock
pistol and enough ammunition to start a small war, but they would do me little
good in the rear lock box. In case of trouble my 'panic' GPS transmitter on the
dash would have to do. One push and a helicopter with people who did know how to
shoot straight would come looking for me. I am not what you might call a high
level government official by any means but it was one of those perks that came
with the job. Actually, when asked I told people I was an administrator in the
prison business office, and let it go at that. My business card said just that,
and it was true.
Rounding a sharp corner I came to the fence surrounding the General's
plantation. The gate was closed. I announced myself to the intercom box, the
security camera swiveled as the gate opened. A mile further on I came upon a
guard working with a female prisoner. She was deeply tanned and totally naked.
Her hair cropped very short, pubes hairless, the mark of a long-term female
prisoner. These prisoners where leased out to plantation as laborers. The guard
had her pulling fallen logs out of a swamp. She looked to be almost six feet
tall, very toned, with the figure of a bodybuilder. Her brown bulging thighs,
etched with muscle as she strained under the load. A leather harness encased her
waist and chest binding her arms behind her back, a chain ran from her waist and
wrist shackles to a long heavy log. The guard stood beside her with an electric
prod on his belt, and a studded leather strap in one hand. Bending forward she
struggled with each step pulling the log down the road. Several livid welts
shown on her hard dark butt cheeks.
In a few minutes I pulled up in front of a rambling, stucco, tile roofed estate
house. The General rose from his chair on the porch to great me. 'Good to see
you Inspector, let's go around back, have a drink and talk.' I followed him to a
wide trellis covered verandah. We sat down as a boyish brunette woman dressed in
a thin white cotton dress brought us drinks, her firm little breasts bouncing
under the dress as she walked. Obediently she asked if there was anything else
she could do for us. The General motioned her away. She scampered off, with a
rattling of her ankle chains and stood near by, tossing her short mop of dark
hair to get it out of her eyes.
Looking out on the terrace, exposed to the harsh sun was the figure of a tall,
muscular, and very nude female. Her deeply tanned and oiled skin gleaming in the
sunlight, as she knelt on the hard tiles. 'It's not true that blondes don't
tan.' Said the General. You could not have told that she was a blonde by looking
at her, for her short blonde hair was hidden under a heavy black leather
punishment helmet, which covered her entire head. In addition, her pubs had
been shaven, exposing the well used, reddish flesh of her gaping vagina. The
woman in the helmet could not see, hear, or speak with the black penis gag
inserted in the mouth opening. She could barely breath inside the stifling heat
of the helmet. It seemed the General enjoyed keeping her that way. I had known
for a while that she was the former mistress of the Prime Minister, who
supposedly had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Out of long
practice, the blonde sat patiently on her folded legs, her toned arms manacled
severely behind her back, elbows touching. Her chain neck leash tied to a ring
set in the tile floor. Another chain ran from the center of a chain hanging
between her heavy brown breasts, that chain linking the two large golden rings
embedded in her thick red nipples. The rings and chain reflected the sunlight,
moving ever so slightly with each breath the captive female took. A leather belt
encircled her waist, attached to it another thin strap, cinched tightly between
her legs, holding in her anal and viginal plugs. Her labia formed almost a
complete circle of flesh around the ridged knobbed dildo that filled her.
The blonde was compliant, earning harsh punishment as a reward. This was a life
she had asked for, full filing some dark need. Fortunately, the General was
happy to meet her need to suffer, happy to provide a seemingly endless variety
of painful experiences for her to sample. The boyish brunette reminded me of a
junior cheerleader. Where as the muscular blonde reminded me of that senior
swimmer I had admired from afar during my first year at Stanford. The two women
were in my eyes the perfect pairing, opposites physically and emotionally but
closely linked spiritually like sisters or maybe lovers.
With a word the General instructed the brunette to march her companion to the
marble bench in front if us. As we watched, she literally ran to the side of
her larger, more muscular friend. Untying the leashes from the ring in the
stone, she sharply pulled on the breast leash, signaling the other woman to
rise. She did not speak, knowing that her friend could not hear her through the
thick leather helmet. After a slight start, the blonde rose gracefully and stood
submissively in front of her smaller companion, waiting to be told what to do
next. Controlling her friend through the line attached to the heavy golden
rings in the blonde's long nipples, the brunette steered her across the smooth
bricks to the narrow, marble bench. At his nod, she stopped her friend in front
of the bench and gently positioned the blonde on her back resting on her bound
arms. Without further orders, she took each of the blonde's feet and slipped
them through chain loops attached to the framework for the trellis on either
side of the bench, leaving the blonde on her back with her pubes fully exposed.
Sinking to her knees in front of that shaven sex, the brunette looked up at the
General, her look waiting for his permission. Smiling, he nodded his head
slightly, indulging her. She pulled her light dress off over her head, revealing
a slender toned figure.. Leaning forward, unbuckling the crotch strap, removing
the discipline dildo, the little cheerleader began to lick her blind, deaf, and
dumb companion. Using the flat of her tongue to wash the slick, open vagina from
the sensitive skin at the rear between her cunt and her anus up to the prominent
clitoris, now decorated with a golden stud piercing its fleshy mound halfway
between its base and the sensitive tip. Kept in a constant state of stimulation
by the stud, the woman's body responded instantly, lubricating her with copious
amounts of secretion, which the brunette eagerly lapped up. As the larger
helmeted woman's body shook with pleasure from the oral attention of her friend,
the General picked up two large steel clips and snapped them on the reclining
woman's unsuspecting nipples. She wined with a high squeal behind her gag. Each
shiny wet breast showed numerous thin welts from a recent trip to the whipping
bench. Then he picked up a lit candle. With her head enclosed inside the
leather helmet, the blonde woman had no warning of the wax. The first she knew
was the burning heat as the hot wax hit to her sensitive breast flesh, mixing
pain with the pleasure she had been receiving. Again and again he dropped the
hot wax onto her bare skin at irregular intervals. The wax produced pain but
did no permanent harm to her tanned skin, it was the anticipation of its use
when combined with the pleasure coming from the tongue burrowing inside her wet
hole, which was driving the captive blonde woman mad. After some time, the
General grew bored with this. Putting down the candle, he unlocked from the
helmet the dildo inserted into the reclining woman's mouth. As soft moans and
muffled pleas escaped from the round opening in the black helmet, he took a
larger, double-ended dildo from the table and held it up for the brunette to
see. As she watched, he slid one end into the wet cunt of the blonde and then
slid that same end which was wet with her own secretions into the blonde's
mouth, locking it into the helmet. Eagerly, the brunette slid her body up her
friend's, delighting in the wet skin to skin contact, until she lay on top of
the muscular, nude body of her friend. The brunette licked the large hard
rubber cock jutting out of the mask, licking it with the flat of her tongue
before she took as much of it into her mouth as she could, sucking on it as if
it were a real cock. As she sucked the rubber cock, her body wiggled and rubbed
her small orbs against her friend's large, high breasts. Underneath her, the
bound helmeted blonde could only lie passively on the bench as the dildo in her
mouth and throat moved to and fro aggressively in response to the efforts of the
woman sucking the rubber cock.
At a word of command from the General, the brunette repositioned herself above
the blonde's face, above the dildo jutting out of her friend's helmet, and
slowly lowered herself onto the salvia wet rubber until her crotch covered the
helmeted face of her friend. She began riding the dildo, fucking her own cunt
as well as the other woman's mouth with the rubber double ended cock. The
General took the leash attached to the brunette's collar and tied it tightly to
the chain between the blonde's nipple rings. Now each time she lifted herself
off the dildo, the brunette pulled on her friend's breasts, stretching them with
into elongated pink cones with each upstroke. Slowly at first, then with
increasing speed, the brunette rode her friend's face, oblivious to the labored
breathing of the woman under her.
The General reached again for the still burning candle. Holding it above the
two women's breasts, he alternated dropping the hot wax onto their breasts. The
convulsions of the muscular blonde's cunt muscles every time a drop of the hot
wax unexpectedly hit her breast squeezed out a little spurts of female juices
wetting her thighs. Soon, both the reclining woman's breasts were encased in the
hardening wax, covering both sensitive nipples and forcing him to aim for the
less sensitive sides of her large breasts. The pleasure that came from using
the hot wax on the smaller brunette was different, less physical. It was the
pleasure of seeing the conflicting fear and excitement in the brunette's eyes as
he held the candle above her wax spattered breast. . Suddenly his hand dropped,
dumping all of the melted wax onto the helmeted woman's quaking stomach, goading
her to a masochistic climax as her brunette friend rode the dildo in the
blonde's mouth to her own climax.
The General sat back down as the brunette picked up her companion's nipple
chains and lead her off, no doubt to some dark punishment cell. 'Magnificent
isn't she', said the General. 'I will show you where she is kept later. She was
born to suffer, a natural slave. But now I need to enlist your help. It seems
that the rebel cause is growing. We need someone like you who can move freely
within the military and the prison system to gather information.' 'Anything I
can do to help.' I responded, knowing that this was more then just a request. He
continued, 'All this has been cleared with your superiors, you will visit each
prison, take as much time as you wish. If you need to question anyone, by any
means, feel free to do so. I insist on it. You will have full cooperation from
all officials. In addition you are to visit the state brothels, and as many
plantations and companies, who employ prisoners, as you deem necessary. Now let
me show you my new training compound.
As we waited for a Hummer to be brought around a military truck pulled up. Two
guards jumped out, and opened the canvas back. They pulled out a shackled
female, allowing her to fall to the ground. She looked very young, a student,
clad in tattered camouflage pants, shoeless and bare to the waist, her face and
body streaked with sweat and dirt, short black hair matted. The guard gruffly
ordered her to her feet, pulling her up by the neck chain. He lengthened the
chain between her ankles and secured a length of chain from our jeep to her
neck. The General seemed pleased as we drove off with the young student trotting
heavily along behind. Soon she was gasping for breath, sweat streaming down her
bare torso. Her pants rode low in her hips, a tuft of black curly pubic hair
just peaking out as she struggled to keep up. Soon the compound came into view
around a low hill. At first I thought it was a windowless building, but when we
got closer I could see it was a high cream colored wall surrounding almost an
acre. A guard opened the large sliding door on the west wall of the new compound
as we drove in. Our student dropped to her knees in the dirt, moaning and
gasping as we stopped. Two guards came over and dragged her to a wooden frame.
She was stripped naked, spread-eagled upright, arms and legs chained as wide as
they could stretch, her feet just off the ground. He howled as steel clips where
placed on either side of the nipples on her small hard breasts. One guard picked
up a three-foot long wooden handled leather strap. With a sharp upward stroke he
expertly brought the whip up between her spread thighs. The girl leaped straight
up in her chains, head flying back and screamed at the top of her lungs. After
three more lashes to her butt and thighs large beads of sweat broke out on naked
her body. We left her howling under the lash as the guard being to methodically
work over her butt and thighs. The General pointed out two low cement rings at
the end of the compound. In the center of each was a gray metal box with a long
arm attached. The whole thing revolved in a thirty-foot circle. Tied to the end
of the arm was a rope clipped to the halter strapped on the head of a black
female. Aside from her thigh length, high-heeled boots she was naked,
glistening in the hot sun as she trotted, high stepping, in an endless circle.
In the other training ring a very large busted, older female did the same. She
too, was trotting with high steps behind the relentless machine. Her mature
full mammaries flopping up and down, pounding hard her bare chest with each
step. A wild look shown in her eyes as she clamped down on the rubber coated
bit in her mouth. 'Pony training is becoming a popular sport in some
plantations,' said the General, 'I am training these two for a cart pulling
contest. You would be surprised, some of the older females can do better than
the younger ones.' Pointing to the large breasted one, 'that bitch is my prize,
just turned 46. Been training her for two years, she used to be a lawyer. Got
caught for stealing fees from her partners firm, or at least that's what they
said. I just think they wanted to get rid of her, someone said she was a real
bitch.' As we watched, a guard worked them with a long longe whip, flicking the
lash out at any sign of tiring. The black female's upper thighs showed the
effects of the whip.
'I like to work them everyday for six to 8 hours depending on the heat. Twice a
week we do a twelve-hour training. Training is the key! Endurance is everything.
A pony bitch must be able to pull a two hundred-pound cart and rider for five
miles at full speed. We used to do just a mile but in the past few years using
these mechanical hot walkers we have built them up to five. Some are talking
about going for ten-mile races soon. People think using the whip will win. I
have seen a bitch beaten bloody during a race but that is wrong, training wins.
Relentless training, seven days a week, no breaks. Just like these two. You feed
them well, work them for long hours totally naked, and discipline them for even
the smallest thing and you will see results. In fact I have found that the
educated ones are the best, after they work through the shock, shame and
humiliation of being naked ponygirls. ' Smiled the General.
As we walked over to a low building on the west wall, I heard the snap of the
horsewhip on bare flesh and a quick cry. An opening in the building led down a
short flight of steps to a steel door. The General unlatched the bolts and we
entered a dim passage, the barrel vaulted ceiling cabled with small lights
enclosed in wire cages. Soon my eyes adjusted to the light and I could see
doors on both sides of the passage. 'Feel free to take a look around,' he said,
'I have to leave you. Your car will be brought over. Keep me posted on your
efforts. Use the usual codes. Good luck'.
