by Hans Meijer
"Police station! Though you said prison?"
"Must have proper trial. Then sentenced to punishings. They stay police station a few days so we all get good fucks." The corporal beamed importantly. "Is police perquisite, to fuck."
"Yeah, and more than girls. Look, Eliah, how about I arrange bail?" "For such crimes is no bail. But you come visit. Police think Mr. Burdett is fine sir."
"Damnit, corporal, there has to be a way…! How about you taking four of the other girls? You cab screw 'em for a week and then sell 'em. Two for one's a good deal?"
"But is not white girl." The corporal shrugged. "Can arrest local girls anytime. We fuck a little then let go."
With grim ste lips, Seth Burdett unlocked the two white girls from the coffle. Their shackles hung slack and empty and forlorn. "You heard the silly twit. He's got six guns. When I get the coffle into Ben Sirah I'll raise bloody hell. I've got friends. If that's not good enough I'll wire New York for you."
"You could have done that in the first place." Audrey said tartly. "Shit, I wanted to sell you first, girl! I need the money." Corey Gibson was shattered, bereft, and furiously angry. "You mean this… this fuzzy wuzzy can actually…?"
Seth patted his gun. "I might get two of them before they got me. Then you're friendless. But with me alive you're going to come through this… some way… I guarantee!"
She believed him. There was that in his voice which evoked her fire. With a greater faith than Audrey's, she surrendered her nakedness to the familiar turning of her back and the limp proffering of her wrists, on which the corporal's handcuffs clicked with a sound of minor doom. Reluctantly, Audrey did the same.
"Is jeep behind bush." Pronounced the corporal importantly.
The man and his slave said a farewell with their eyes. Audrey stalked ahead disdainfully, furous at an unkind Fate, her wrists tugging irritably at the shaming metal bands. Corey followed, the corporal's hand, not unkindly, on her arm. "Is very nice cell." He explained encouragingly.
"Is bars all round so everyone can see. You feel nice at home."
Corey supposed he meant well. She tried not to cry.
The jeep was actually there. The two girls were lifted into the back. More handcuffs were produced. The armed detachment beamed approval. "We're already handcuffed. We don't need any more." Audrey's protest was bitter. She knew where she was going.
"Is best we join you. That way is hard to run." The corporal was anxious for good intentions to be understood.
The girls were side by side. It was neat and tidy to clip a cuff above Audrey's right elbow, with the matching steel circlet notched on Corey's left. Where one went the other must go too. Another pair of handcuffs similary joined two ankles. "Why not our necks too?" Audrey demanded belligerently.
"Alas, we have no chain." Corporal Eliah was genuinely apologetic. "But at police station we can arrange."
Submerged beneath a load of policemen, rifles and naked girls in chains, the jeep fought its way to the path. It was not a pleasant journey. Four pairs of handcuffs mocke the female prisoners all the way to Ben Sirah.
"The son-of-a-bitch! He's actually managed…!" Audrey stared incredulously at the four foot chain linking their necks. Her fingers were busily exploring the band of metal which was her new collar. "There's more to that damn corporal than meets the eye."
Corey was a welter of sensation. Audrey had been here before, but she had not. The cage-like cell in which they were safely locked was daunting. So were these eyes… It seemed there were always eyes peering at them through the bars. "The bastard sells tickets so the wogs can look at our cunts." Audrey Cotswold averred disgustedly.
They had lost the battle of nakedness. The corporal's apology had, as usual, been most sincere. "Is prescribed tunic for female prisoners." He explained. "But is now all at laundry. You not mind nice policemen look at cunts and boobs?"
Corey was testing her own metal. Her collar was heavier than any she had previously been forced to wear. "Is prison issue." The corporal had informed wirt pride. "Is specially made for very bad girls."
"But I was only being sarcastic." Audrey protested. "We don't need a beastly chain on our necks. We can't get out of this damn cage."
"Then must have chain on hands and feet. You like this better."
She subsided, breasts heaving in fury. He held all the cards, they held none. There would always be a refutation.
"Or can tie hands behind backs if you prefer?" The offer was the soul of kindness.
They accepted linked necks.
"Reid Hunter will find us." Audrey vowed in conviction.
"Cheer up, darling."
"He won't find us if we get stuck in some rotten prison first. Audrey, dear, I'm scared. There's something final about everything they do to us. We could wear this collar and chain the rest of our lives."
They did not wear it to Court. It was taken from them. But their hands were bound at their backs and their elbows roped hard and tight to expose their breats. Standing in the dock, their nipples pointed at magistrate Mussuba like accusing fingers. Disgustedly, they heard the corporal read their list of crimes. Corey resigned herself to life imprisonment. Everybody except they themselves said a few words. Then the Magistrate. Corporal Eliah interpreted.
"Is this time no fine. This time no escapings. Judge is much sorrowful for such bad girls. He sentence you each to fifteen years in most strict prison for naughty ladies. He direct you must be put in most heavy irons because you wanting to escape. In prison is full discipline for both…"
"What's that mean?"
"The strap, the whip. Much restrains. Sometimes dark cell." The corporal diluted shock with consolation. "Could be worse. is only fifteen years. Could have been for life. Many girls go to prison for life."
It was too shattering, too medieval to immediately comprehend. In shock, they asked: "When does it start, corporal?"
"Magistrate very kind. He allow police to keep you a few days for fucking. I expect you glad?"
It seemed unkind to complain. Two female felons went with their jailor, not back to their cage but to a blacksmith.
"I can't believe this either." Audrey was sitting on a box. Her feet were raised upon an anvil. Around each ankle had been fitted a heavy iron band. Rivets had been inserted in holes. The blacksmith was raising his hammer… Corey stared in equal disbelief. The arms of both girls remained bound, as in Court. She stood, awaiting her turn, and watched the incredible take place. The centuries had rolled back five hundred years. Between the heavy anklets being riveted upon her fellow prisoner was a length of equally heavy chain, its links massive. It was longer than need be. It would not deter a girl in the servicing of men, but it would most certainly inhibit escape. With that weight of metal attached immovably upon her ankles each step would compel her to drag…! In fascination, Corey watched the hammer splat the soft metal down to form a rounded head. Two rivets to each shackle! Such irons would hold a giant. On a girl they were purely punitive. And for fifteen years…!
The four rivets having been hammered to become a part of the anklet itself, Audrey was helped to stand by the kindly aid of corporal Eliah. She was cruelly captive. Wrists and elbows tight bound, her feet ironed. Like a girl testing new shoes, she peered down at her own feet as she assayed a step. There was a visible pause, then with an equally visible effort, the hobbled foot advanced with its load of links following as a dead weight upon a foot that had lost its freedom for fifteen years.
"You see, you walk with muh care." The corporal was delighted. With shrinking heart and a sense of something lost forever, Corey Gibson took her turn upon the box. When she lifted her feet to the anvil and saw the fitting of the iron bands upon her ankles she remembered the old cliches: 'Walking in the last mile', the 'Point of no return', the 'Moutning of the Scaffold steps'. She wanted to weep in memory of lost liberty. In comparison with this horror Seth's coffle was a privilege much to be desired.
"With rivets, they cannot be unlocked. There is no key." The co
rporal explained pridefully.. "No one can be helping naughty girls."
The hammer impacted, the metal spread. Corey saw imprisonment become real and actual before her eyes. In but a few minutes she stood beside Audrey Cotswold, the weight on her ankles horrific and frightening, exchanging wide eyed dismay at an imposition far worse than they had supposed. She lifted a foot, suddenly leaden, and dragged…
Chapter 7
"I catch you if you fall." The corporal promised expansively. Then extended himself to humour. "I also catch you if you run."
They did not run.
In the cell their arms and wrists were freed. In their barred confinement their irons became more practical. They had little need to walk. From one side of their prison was only three or four gragging steps, the rest of them was free. If they stood still they could enjoy a false sensation of liberty. But this reflection was grim. It meant that, from now on, their life would be spent behind bars in small confined spaces where the irons would not matter much, other than as a constantly depressing reminder of their condition, and a mocking denial to anyone who sought to aid their escape. They were grateful for each other. To have been alone in the cage would have been a thing hard to take. They even managed a giggle as they heaved their irons awkwardly up to enable them to sit on their bench facing each other, chin on bent knees, and talk about their most immediate infliction. "We're going to be fucked." Audrey mourned matter-on-factly. "What do we do about it?"
"Darling, I've been a whore. I told you, it doesn't really matter… unless a girl lets it. So don't let it matter." Corey was ashamedly proud of her expertise.
"We can spread our legs, dammit!" Labourously, Audrey did so. "The sons of bitches, they had that figured when they shackled us with all this chain. We can't either run or say no." She managed another giggle. "But they cheated themselves out of any good leg action."
"I got the impression we wouldn't be screwed in prison." Corey meditated.
"There's only about a dozen policemen and the corporal… oh, and that magistrate bastard gets in on us too, doesn't he? It could be worse, y'know."
"Gosh, what a spot! You mean, we have to be grateful for being fucked by only fourteen men we don't even like?"
Audrey wrinkled her nose in disgust. "And you can bet they'll have friends… Oh, damn, we've got a visitor."
"I have decided to fuck you now." Announced the corporal magnanimously. "My men will come later as their duties permit. We are all much pleased and very hard." He unlocked the cell door. "Which of you would like to enjoy me first?"
Corey Gibson arranged her nakedness in the oldest position in the world. As a reassurance to a dubious Audrey, she proclaimed jauntily. "Me first, please corporal."
"Ah, you are wise girl." The corporal was flattered, his own self assessment confirmed. "I have very hard…"
"Can't we have privacy?" Audrey broke in on his pleasantries. "Can't you take us somewhere, one at a time, and do it to us in private?"
The corporal was puzzled. "You do not like to watch?"
"No, and I don't want to be seen either. It's not decent. This damn cell is like a cage in the Zoo. What girl wants to be fucked in a cage!"
"Hush, darling, it's no use." Corey was concerned.
"Miss Gibson is right." The corporal confirmed. "She is a most proper young lady. Perhaps if I whip you a little you will become polite?"
Audrey shrugged in resignation. She watched. She admired the corporal's member. She was by no means untrained in sexuality. When the thrustings and moanings drew to a close she obeyed the inviting gesture and cleansed their jailor's glistening penis with her mouth, lips and tongue. When, after a minute, it responded with an expanding virility, Miss Audrey Cotswold lay on her back and thrust savagely at the irons on her feet. She did not close her eyes but looked steadily at Corey Gibson as she was raped.
"You are both very nice girls with fine cunts." The corporal informed warmly. "You now how have visitor. My friend, Mr. Burdett, is wait in office."
The two girls looked at each other askance. Would he know? Should they tell him? They lowered their weight of metal to the floor and sat primly erect. "You are most welcome to fuck them both, dear sir Mr. Burdett. They have luscious cunts." Corporal Eliah's hospitality was warm. Evidently he intended to miss nothing.
The Slaver's retort was typical. "You bastard! You mean, you've fucked 'em both already?" "Of course. Am I not the corporal here?"
Corey knew her Master had to fight for control. The set of his lips spoke volumes. She glowed with fresh hope as his eyes met hers. "You alright, girl?" : We have not been harmed, Master."
"What the hell's all that scrapiron on their feet?"
"They have been sentenced, sir. All legal. They have been found most naughty and must wear irons because of previous escape."
"Piss on that! Take 'em off!"
"Would be to break the Law, dear sir. Irons do not matter to nice girls. They spread their legs for you most easily. Will you fuck them now?"
"If you think I'm going to fuck a girl in a cage with you watching, you're nuts. I didn't come here to fuck. I want them out of this."
"Alas, they are much in. Perhaps you would be our guest for the evening. My staff will fuck the girls from time to time. You are most welcome to watch through the bars."
"Piss on that too! Look, Eliah, I want 'em out. What's it cost?" "But, sir, they have been found guilty. Their sentence is for fifteen years with full discipline and restraint. In a few days, after we have all fucked them well, they will be taken to the special prison for naughty ladies and begin to serve…"
"Where the hell's that?"
"It is the State Institution for intractable females at Imballa, Mr. Burdett, sir." Said the corporal with stiff dignity. "They will be much whipped, and in fifteen years will be fine citizens."
"Horseshit!" Seth Burdett frowned at his former slaves. "Hold on, girls." He said forcefully. "The corporal here can't do a thing. He's a good chap on the wrong side of te fence. But look…" His face became fierce. "I'll get you out. Chains and all, I'll get you out. Remember that." He turned and strode from sight.
Corey glowed with pride. The fire inside her crotch quenching the corporal's ravishment.
For four days Corey and Audrey serviced the Ben Sirah constabulary with lips and cunt and mouth. On the fifth day they were taken to Imballa. It was in a polite car with the corporal. They sat in the back, linked together by handcuffs on their elbows. On arrival at one of the grimmest buildings they had ever seen there was much signing of papers while they stood at attention. Then corporal Eliah unlocked and pocketed his department's handcuffs, shook their free hands warmly, and wished them well for the mere trifle of fifteen years, and left them to the mercy of the correctional Institute of Imballa.
Imballa had no mercy. It hosed them down, it disinfected, it fingerprinted, it completed documents. Then a wardress put them in a cell with the heartening information that, when she got around to it later, she would whip them both between their legs as an Institutional aid to the rejection of carnal thoughts. The barred door and its lock made a sound to discourage any optimism a girl might have brought along."
"We're not going to like this." Audrey's statement was positive.
"I'm hating this iron on our feet more and more." Corey mourned. "They don't need to put it on us here. There's no escape. They're just being mean." She brightened. "But our Master will get us out. I know he will!"
"You and your Master!" Audrey sniffed. "He's only one man." She looked around disconsolate. "Gosh, wath a hateful place! I can feel those fifteen years…"
Wardress Taruma could have handled six ironed girls with ease. Corey and Audrey gave her no trouble. "I no have time to take you to punishment room. You walk too slow." She told them tersely. "Each cell equipped for whippings. I whip you here."
"We don't need to be whipped. We haven't done anything. We promise we'll behave."
"You been naughty. You be sentenced. Is custom to whip new girl."
<
br /> There seemed little left to say. The twin delinquents did as they were told. On their backs on the floor, they watched the pulley raise their irons. To meshed gears the weight of metal meant nothing. Four feet went with the iron, rising up and up, followed by legs and thighs. Somewhere there was a winch and motor. They could hear it. But for Taruma there was only the ropes and the button on the wall. After two pert bottoms had left the floor she pressed the button and surveyed the two open and exposed crotches with approval. "You got pretty cunts. I find a use…! Now I whip."
She used a quirt, a hateful thing with heavy thongs, well lubricated with the secretions of a hundred girls. She used it leisurely, going from one sundered cunt to the other. Her blows were viciously wise in female agony. But she would do no damage. She appeared to regard a whipping as a time for conversation, some of it informative. "We got nice room for girl punishment. Have stocks. Have whipping post. Have thing to stretch. Have many whips. Imballa girls very lucky."
