Epilogue
I swallow the large cock eagerly, my tongue scraping the bottom of his glans.
My breath is coming in grunts as another cock slams into my ass. I am on my
hands and knees. My tits swing to and fro beneath me as I am rocked back and
forth from the force of my anal rape.
Sweat covers my body as I work tirelessly to bring the two men to climax. I am
on my third orgasm of the evening and expect many more before I am returned to
the prison.
I have become one of the prison whores. We are a select group, chosen by the
matron to provide services to business men from around the world who have heard
of the San Rafael Prison harem. Tonight it is two Japanese business men who
have flown from Tokyo especially for this occasion.
They will use me for eight hours at a price of $1,000.
Three weeks ago it was an Arab Prince. He paid the matron $2,000 to whip me for
six hours straight. I was unable to walk for six days after that little session.
Still, I was screaming not from pain but from the multiple orgasms I
experienced. I have become a pain slut. Before that was the German banker who
hung me by my tits and pissed on me as I fingered myself to orgasm. There is
nothing I haven't endured as the matron's chief whore. Men, dogs, burros, and
even a full grown horse have had their cocks in my body.
When Maria and I were returned to the prison last month, the matron had two
crosses prepared and mounted in the main courtyard of the prison. The crosses
consisted of an upright with two cross members the size of railroad ties. The
lower tie was placed about thirty inches above the ground and the upper some
eighteen inches above it. The guards call it the Cruz de Diablo, the Cross of
the Devil.
We were first stripped of the remaining shreds of our shirts and our hands tied
to the top of the crosses. We were then given fifty strokes of the whip.
Barely conscious, I was lifted and placed on the lower cross beam; my ass
resting easily on the broad beam. To my horror, my legs were lifted up and
spread out until they rested atop the beam where they were then tied tightly at
the ankle, knee and upper thigh. My pussy was gaping open and the muscles in my
thighs screamed in protest. Before I could object, my arms were then spread
apart and tied to the upper beam at the wrist, elbow and upper arm. I was
effectively crucified in the most humiliating and degrading manner.
I watched as Maria was given the same treatment. Then we were left to endure
the blazing sun.
For three days we hung there, fed only a meager bit of water from time to time
to keep us alive. During those three days, guards would come up and piss on us
or abuse our bodies in ways they could only think up. The worst part were the
bugs that incessantly tormented us. Flies, mosquitos, and ants found the most
tender parts of our bodies and feasted on us without fear of retribution. When
the three days was up, I was hallucinating. I imagined that I was being fucked
by the Devil himself relentlessly as I screamed out my multiple orgasms. Maria
was less fortunate; she died on the cross sometime during the last night.
I was taken to the infirmary where my wrists and ankles were shackled to the cot
and a remote-controlled vibrator was placed in my pussy. For six days the
vibrator would bring me to the brink of orgasm, only to shut off amid my screams
and pleas for sexual fulfillment. After six days, I was taken to the matron
where I fell on my knees and begged to become one of her sex-slaves.
And now I find myself servicing two Japanese business men. The one pumping my
rear is grunting faster now; I suspect he is about to cum. The one in my mouth
has just exploded his wad and I am swallowing furiously. Another orgasm sends
me screaming into the man's cock.
I wonder occasionally what might have happened with my life had I not been so
foolish as to have had that bag of marijuana. The two year sentence has long
since expired, yet I remain a slave to the prison matron. Why? Perhaps its
because I want to. My body no longer responds to my will;
I am simply an animal engaged in the most basic of instincts.
There are some benefits to being the matron's sex slave. For one, I don't have
to work in the jungle on the day following my sessions with the matron's
clients. I've been given another shirt to wear when I'm not "performing". And
best of all, I've been given a different cell, complete with my own toilet and
wash basin! On the downside, the matron takes me to the yard once a week and
gives me fifteen strokes of the flogger so, as she says, "to remind me that I am
her slave." Even these sessions leave me in the throes of a huge orgasm.
The other prisoners look at me now with contempt. They feel above me since I
surrendered my body to the matron. Someday they will learn. They, too, will
ultimately become tools of the matron.
No one comes to visit me now. As far as they know, I perished in the jungle,
trying to escape. Only the matron's clients know differently.
"Oh, God! I'm cumming again! Oh! Oh! OH! UMMMMM!"
"AAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"
The End (or is it?)
