2084

2084 (by Eve Adorer)

Chapter 4 – Captivation

How stupid could a supremely intelligent girl be?

Elspeth had identified her.

" 'Amanda'?! No. Not to my knowledge. We called her 'Mary'. I have no knowledge of any 'Amanda' "……….

How stupid could a supremely intelligent girl be?

Mi Honey had helped her escape.

Mi Honey had left Amanda's hobble unpadlocked. It was then easily taken off. Natalie had had to make her own way home from school that afternoon: Amanda had just kept tiptop-of-tiptoe wiggle-walking, so very pretty, into the city.

Natalie had been very helpful to the Girl-Police. The fourteen-year-old romantically-charged schoolgirl, had lispilly breathily excitedly, let her lovely firm naked titties and rosebud soft-hard nipples, no need of a brassiere she, rise and fall within her white school uniform blouse, as she drew heaven's breath whilst she answered, breathlessly:

"Oh and the other girl was really beautiful…..and I could just tell that Mary was in love ……Mary was like staring? Like her eyes were popping out her head? I think her heart was aching ……. I just knew they were made for each other… I can always tell. She had curly red hair? She was very beautiful. ………Oh just another maid of course………. I really don't know …….. I think she's called 'Eve'? Anyway, she's my friend Mandy's maid see……….. And anyway, like I was saying, I think 'Mary' must have run off to marry her, because I could tell they were really really really deeply in love………".

Amanda had still been in her maid's uniform. As she had shivered, squatting in the corner on the platform of the night-time darkened train station, the Girl-Police constable's flashlight had first shone on her superlative thighs, and then played slowly up and down them, quite clearly, indeed blatantly, absorbed by the fantastic beauty of Amanda's legs, before shining straight onto Amanda's adorable face and her coal-deep soul-deep devil-deep dark-brown eyes.

How stupid could a supremely intelligent girl be?

"Over 'ere sarge!" the constable had called, and then muttered audibly under her breath: "An' she's a fuckin' darlin' of a looker an' all! ……….."

Mi Honey had been on trial a day before since. Poor Mi Honey had been condemned to the coalmines. Later, Elspeth had spoken favourably of 'Mary', as she insisted on calling Amanda: earlier Elspeth had had no sympathy for Mi Honey, whom she had condemned as "a congenital liar and, to boot, a totally useless maid".

……………

The smell was nauseating. The girl next to Amanda had just defecated, and her faeces had slopped into the trough below the prisoners.

Amanda's nipples pressed and brushed on the unyielding cold tiles of the wall she stared at, having no other view, as she sat astride her 'peg'. She and twenty other girls sat astride, side-by-side, with their naked slits pressing hard down on the round steel bars the wardenesses called 'pegs'.

As with all her fellow girls, Amanda's wrists were in heavy chain girlacles, which were presently hooked, suspended by their middle-link so as to hold her lovely arms high aloft. Her pubic hair had re-grown in its tight negress' curly dark-brown delicious delight, but it was no cushion to relieve the pain of Amanda being sat astride the cold round steel 'peg', her natural delightful 100-pounds of all-girl girl, being added to by her steel ankle-shackles and the heavy iron ball suspended from the middle-link of their joining chain.

Amanda's slit was heavily bruised and hurt her immensely.

Her lovely mouth kissed a lucky pipe with overwhelmingly desirable negress' lips, to draw some water. At least the water was fresh. Water, raw bran, bread, and some sickly stew known to have dog-food as its main ingredient, had been her unvaried invariable diet for near twelve-months now: water and these, were all that were fed to the prisoners.

The prisoners were allowed six-hours sleep in every twenty-four. Sitting like this was how they were supposed to sleep. Amanda had never known such unbearable exhaustion.

Amanda's irresistibly kissable lips drew some powdered raw bran from the pipe that ran down from the hopper, and then kissed the water pipe again, to gain water to try and soften the bran and make it easier to chew and swallow.

The ball of her ball-and-chain dangled just above the filthy stinking trough into which all the girls pissed and defecated. The barn-like building in which they were held was hellish cold. Amanda was completely naked bar for her chains, and a steel collar around her neck: a steel collar padlocked irremovably, with coupling-rings for and aft, front and back, of Amanda's slim neck.

…………..

She had tried to deny that she was a runaway maid. There she had been, standing in the Girl-Police station-house, obviously wearing maid's uniform, and yet she had tried to deny she was a runaway maid.

"Wots dat yer got on den luv: fancy dress irrit?" the snearing girl sergeant had scoffed whilst flicking the hem of Amanda's tiny maid's apron.

"Yer know yer gonna go on trial for breakin' yer contract don'tcha?"

"Yer fuckin' mistress ain't gonna wantyer back iz 'er?"

The sergeant had then looked around and, seeing the coast clear had whispered.

"Bet yer like it an' all don'tcha luv eh? You maids iz forbid it an' all ain't dey? You're a crackin' bitta charlene too ain'tcha? Betya burnin' forit ain'tcha darlin' eh? eh?"

This side of Amanda's interrogation had ceased as a senior officer came on the scene.

"Is this one 'Amanda Heavensent', also-known as the maid 'Mary'?"

"Er yer: dat's right cappin", the sergeant had answered with easy familiarity, as she half-stood, rising in respectful disrespect, to and for her senior.

"Well she's for 06.30 sharp, so please make sure she makes court on time sergeant"

"Ma'am!" the sergeant had replied in an affirmative tone.

"………See luv, dey knows 'oo you iz already" the sergeant continued as the captain had moved on to other business and out of earshot.

"I can't promiz nuffink back luv, but seein' as 'ow you mussbe, yer know………if it's bin such a long time….yer know………'ows abowt it den eh?"

Amanda's mind had been in neutral. She was terrified. She was hardly listening and only subliminally hearing what the sergeant was saying. She was aware that what was being said, and apparently asked, was not 'official'……………..but was not really listening………

"Me an' de uvver girls, ud luv ter watchyer" the sergeant continued, almost slavering over the lovely Amanda.

Amanda awoke from her fear momentarily: "Sorry?" she asked.

"Yer know luv. We wanna watchyer……….. The captain's a stuck up bitch, but she's goin' 'ome afore much longer, and we can watcha den…..yer know….yer know…..doin' it like?"

The sergeant began to realise she was not getting through to Amanda and began to get a little frustrated,

"Look: it sez on diz record 'ere, as 'ow you'ze a really really brainy girl an' all, but yer not tekin' it in are yer luv?"

The look of high distress from fear that clouded Amanda's adorable features, was not noticed by the sergeant, as she again looked around to ensure the only person who would hear her was Amanda.

"Right den. Cardz on der table like eh?" the sergeant looked around for 'coast-clear' affirmation yet once more, and once more began not to get to her point………..

"………..Right den luv………."

"………Cardz on der table like darlin'……….me an' de uvver girls………"

"………..Fuck it!……….."

"………….Me an' de uvver girls wanna watch……….yer know………"

"………….Oh fuckin' 'ell………!"

"…………..Me an' de uvver girls…….."

"…………..De uvver girls an' me …….."

"………….No………. Me an' de uvver girls: dat's berrer…….."

"………….Me an' de uvver girls we wanna watch….. yer know……watch yer doin' it…..yer know….……doin' it?"

"……….Yer know………….like doin' it like? …………"

"……….Yer know………"

"………I mean…………playin' wiv yersel an' all dat?"

"…….Yer know……..'avin a wank eh …….."

"…….Yer know…………. …….. playin' wiv yersel?……….."

"……….I mean………yer know………"

"………Yer know like…………"

"………...I mean……….by yersel?………"

"………….You playin' wiv all yer nice and naughty bits eh…… while we watches yer doin' it o' course…….till yer az a cum, like?……A cum for us while we watches yer eh?!…Eh?! Eh!?…….."

"………….Will yer do dat for us eh luv………..?

"……….Yer know……….I mean while we watch yer doin' it an' all dat eh?……….."

"Bootiful gel like you iz, betcha love a good wank an all don't yer eh? Eh?"

"Bootiful gel like you, betcha can't keep yer pretty 'ikkle 'ands offa yersel, yer fuckin' gorgeous lucky bitch eh?!

"Betcha can suck yer own nippies an' all too can'tcha luv?" the sergeant cruelly chortled.

Tears were coursing down from Amanda's heavenly deep-dark brown eyes, and instantly the sergeant's arousal from the sight and scent of the glorious Amanda, subsided into pain for her beauty.

"………Sorry luv……. Sorry………. I didn't mean nuffin' like. Yer don't av to fer me. Sorry luv…." The sergeant's heart of gold came very belatedly to the surface.

…………….

The cells at the Girl-Police station-house were spotlessly clean and also oh so cool.

Floor, walls, even the ceiling were white tiled for ease of cleaning.

A washbowl with cold-water faucet was against one wall, a lavatory bowl with push-button-flush on the opposite side. A straight-backed plastic chair, screwed to the floor, allowed a prisoner to sit. Also screwed to the floor, was a narrow bed, with a pillow, but no pillowcase, and a mattress, but no duvet or blankets, for the prisoners to sleep. There were no windows in either the walls or the door.

The sergeant had turned her back as Amanda had undressed, just entered, just inside her cell. All the girls in all the cells were as naked as she was soon to be. Amanda was no exception. The authorities had to ensure the prisoners had no means of doing harm to themselves. Only recently, a little Chinese girl, a maid who had let a personal maid run away from her mistress, had tried to harm herself, knowing she faced a lifetime in the coalmines.

Out of kindness and consideration for the lovely nineteen-year-old, the sergeant had turned her back as Amanda had undressed just inside her cell, and thrown her maid's clothes out onto the corridor floor. Amanda remained in her nine-inch-waist-enforcing corset waspie, with a very tight cinch-chain between her nether lips. These she had not the means of removing.

"We got der bolt cutters for de uvver bits: yer corset an' dat", said the sergeant.

"You stand in de doorway luv, an' I'll do de cuttin' an' yer don't need te turn roun' like, cos I can does it from ahind like." The sergeant, all gentleness now that she too had been bowled over by Amanda's astonishing beauty, coaxed very kindly and gently.

"Stand wiv yer back ter me luv: promise I 'on't look an' dat eh?" she coaxed again.

As Amanda awaited the cutting of her cinch-chain and the padlock that held her corset so very tightly closed, the sergeant tried her hardest not to look at Amanda.

Two 'clip – chinks' later, and Amanda was able to step out of her waspie and was now completely bare.

"You're a bootiful girl an' all" said the sergeant, as she took the last of Amanda's garments from Amanda's pretty hand.

"I 'ave to put der light out in a minute sweet 'eart, so you get on yer bed an' dat", Amanda heard the sergeant say, just before the sergeant turned the key in the door to lock her in for the night.

Alone, with her bare feet on the cold tiles of the floor, Amanda had no two thoughts about getting on the bed and rubbing her feet back to warmth with lovely long-fingered hands.

Even as she did so, the main lights in the cell went out, and the cell seemed pitch dark, till Amanda's eyes got used to a reddish-hued safety light, that shone on her as she sat on the bed.

…………………

"Cell 3?", said the Girl-Police captain, "She alright?"

The desk-constable pressed button '3' on her console and showed the whole of Amanda's cell, in the infrared light, with the gorgeous Amanda sitting quietly, the thighs of heaven pressed to her wholly holy fully female chest, on her bed.

"Cell 10 and that's my lot, unless there's been any new one's come in that I don't know about.

Cell 10 was likewise checked.

In cell 10 a girl roamed. Was she Gypsy or a Jewess? She was five-feet-one-and-a-half, olive complexioned, and swayed a swathe as her curves, giving "curves" no residue of meaning by its consequent complete comparison-inadequacy as a description, transfixed the eye with their possession poise pose and the poignancy in the shear poetry of her progress.

Her hair, she was no more than sixteen, her hair, her eyes black as diamonds sparked sparkles of the fire of sun's suns, her hair, her legs gaited golden-gazelle, her hair was in ringlets, her hair, she had raven black locks, tight-tight springs of natural abundance that tumbled wildly copiously confusingly, her hair fell a river in full flood flight, her hair curled coils, her hair fell across a face of Troyic Helen grace, with rapturous lips pertly pouting "please", her hair fell to her ankles and surrounded her, and oh the goddess given wonder of its heaven sent scent: she was wild child with woman's wiles the while: she was Imogene.

Imogene: taken from the wild and tamed as a mistress by some blessed mistress of all she surveyed, who had wanted a girl so natural that nature was her mother and no other. Imogene, a roaming Romany from a tribe of constantly caravanning completely compelling curvaceous peddlers of beautiful handcraft: beautiful girlcraft she, abducted and seducted into mistressy she: she selected and secretly suddenly seduced and seized.

Imogene curtained dressed and skirted only by her hair: hair of profound profusion surrounding her heavenly body: hair of such rapture in which she had wrapped herself for the warmth in her cold tiled cell.

………………..

The captain now stretched her arms aloft and yawned.

Then, taking up her cap and squaring it on her head: she cracked her only joke: the billionth time: the same joke: "Try not to let the place burn down between now and tomorrow morning will you!". …………And then she left the precinct station.

……………

An hour later, an exceptionally girly sigh came from speaker '3'.

Two exquisitely lovely hands cupped Amanda's breasts: Amanda's

Then an astonishingly sexy-pretty gasp came from speaker '3'

The desk constable, lifted her cap's peak off her hitherto half-closed eyes, and took her six-inch heeled booties off the desk where she had sat hitherto legs outreach stretched. Muttering an oath at being disturbed by some stupid bitch prisoner having a nightmare, or something of the sort, she single-focused the roaming cameras, so that only cell '3' was on screen.

The screen showed Amanda in her cell squeezing her pillow between her fantastically beautiful thighs, with all the truly amazing strength in her wonderful legs: the pillow pressing gently and firmly on Amanda's super-sensitive slit, caused her to girly-gasp-squeak.

" 'Ere sarge: do yer fink number free's alright den?" the constable called over to her senior, who sat immersed in one-finger-tap-typing on her computer keyboard.

The sergeant sauntered reluctantly slowly over, and she and the constable watched Amanda, with her beautiful legs wrapped around at the ankles, rolling side to side with the pillow hard up on her slit.

Amanda then abandoned the pillow, throwing it to the floor, and sat on the edge of her bed with her toes, her big toes only, touching the floor with their tips, so that her legs took on their maximum feminine curvature and fascinated even more with their overwhelming shapeliness.

Moments passed with Amanda biting her lovely lower lip as if fighting an overwhelming desire.

The sergeant looked on from behind the desk-constable who, in turn, was staring open-mouthed at the glorious Amanda.

"Put number ten in wiv number free will yer", the sergeant ordered.

"But…..But we got cells to spare tonight sarge…….", came the dullard sullen idler's response.

"I know we got fuckin' cells a spare constable. Put number ten in wiv number free, and do as yer fuckin' told yer stupid cow!", the sergeant ordered with a smile and a wink.

"Oh! Yea! Yea! Gooddun sarge: a fuckin' gooddun", came the at-long-last-dawning of the junior officer's light.

"An' get the uvver constables aroun' 'ere now, so we can all watch, yer stupid bitch!" the sergeant ordered the desk-constable, and then muttered to herself: "We're gonna see this 'ere fuckin' booty 'avin' a fuckin' wank arter all: the randy state she's in, when she sees number 10: but wow and how!!

……………..

The girl next to Amanda defecated again, and her stinking faeces slopped to the trough below. The girl was very frightened. A twenty-year-old Irish colleen with auburn hair close-cropped as was the hair of all prisoners, she, Siabon, turned to Amanda and whispered: "God Amanda, I wish to god they'd just come and do it!"

"Sush now Siabon" Amanda whispered, "It was only a threat. You'll be alright….."

In the instant that instantly followed, the door of the prison barn opened, and in walked the chief overseer and two guards, one carrying a bullwhip, and the other a board covered with hundreds of very sharp six-inch nails with their points facing out, knocked through it.

"Number 3572 gets four for insubordination and trying to steal bread"

The two guards came to Siabon who was quietly weeping and praying.

The spiked board was mounted to hooks on the wall directly in front of the pale white Irish girl, whose lovely soft translucently-white-fleshed full womanly breasts, and near transparent pink nipples, were thus already pressed to the nails spiking the board, in fakir fulsomeness, with soft skin to be hallowed, hollowed concave.

The whip whistled up and cracked with a huge 'THWACK!!!' on Siabon's naked back, and she screamed as her body was irresistibly thrash-thrust forward, and her breasts driven hard on the hundreds of six-inch nails that thus stabbed her to their very hilts.

Amanda gasped as she looked and saw Siabon's impaled tits, and saw the poor girl was bleeding and in agony: eyes wide-open and silently screaming with the pain of the pain's pain.

And yet, as Amanda looked, Amanda felt her own clitoris twitching.

'THWACK!!!' Siabon let out an unearthly scream of agony and Amanda managed to hide her sexual wanton's moan behind it. Amanda tried to make out she was trying to escape the flying blood of the girl being whipped next to her, but was secretly rubbing her now engorged nipples on the tiled wall she faced, as she also masturbated her painful slit on the peg she rested on, whilst fantasising about the pain Siabon was enduring, as her already copiously bleeding tits had been driven hard onto the nails once again.

This was the second time Amanda had witnessed this punishment. The time before she had resisted the overpowering turn-on it had given her, but not this time. Even though Siabon was a friend, Amanda was desperate for sexual relief and…………

'THWACK!!!' Siabon screamed. Amanda worked herself on the cold-steel peg. She wriggled her beautiful body as best she could, whilst needing to avoid it being noticed. She clenched her teeth so as not to let out that she was in an advanced state of sexual arousal.

'THWACK!!!' Siabon howled and her blood flecked the wall right in front of Amanda's gorgeous mouth. And Amanda wanted to lick it: she wanted to taste it: she wanted to cum tasting the blood beaten out of Siabon by the bullwhip impaling her beautiful naked tits and nipples onto the brutal board of nails.

And then……….Oh god how had it come to this?! Amanda's sanity returned. Her fire was dousing. How could she want to lick the blood drawn by the brutal torture of a fellow girl? What had imprisonment with hard labour driven her to?! What kind of inhuman animal were they making her into?!

Siabon was unhooked and taken off her peg. It would be the last Amanda saw of her. This had been the last hours of Siabon's sentence. The prison hospital would patch her up, minimally, and she would be thrown outside the prison gates to fend for herself.

The hose, the cold-water hose, was spraying down the wall, spraying away Siabon's blood. Soon it was playing on Amanda to wash her, and then it moved on to the next girl, the girl astride the next peg, and then on down the line of girls……………

……………The shock of the 'morning wake-up' cold-water shower shook Amanda from her wet-dream: her wet-dream of Siabon receiving a brutal torture flogging.

Like most all such dreams it began to fade as Amanda awoke fully. More cause than usual for her dream to fade quickly, was the continuing ache in Amanda's slit after she had been sat with it pressed on the cold steel peg for another six-hours of so-called overnight sleep.

Amanda looked to her left and saw the lovely Siabon shivering and goose-pimpled from the hose's visit to her pristine white body with its huge firm breasts and those delicate translucent pink nipples. Siabon tried to smile at Amanda by way of saying 'hello'. Amanda shyly smiled back.

Truth told, in their shared cold total abject misery, both girls really only wanted to cry…………

……………….

Amanda's cell door at the Girl-Police station house had opened.

A scrape of key seeking keyhole in door, and Amanda had leapt to her bed and cuddled fabulous thighs against no less fabulous chest.

Key audibly turned: lock clicked efficiently.

Immeasurably immense, Amanda's bountifully beautiful bare thighs comforted her titanic tits as, sitting feet up on her cell bed, she clasped her lower legs folded by hands clasped through interlocked fingers, and hugged heaven to heaven: herself to herself.

Used now, adjusted now, to the dim red lamp that had hitherto been her only external illumination, Amanda's deep-down-devil-brown eyes winced as the light from the corridor flooded her room.

But was this light from the corridor of the Girl-Police cellblock? And oh what glory was this vision that glided toward her. Was this creature, this wraith, this girl so luminously luscious that she wore her own luminescence in halo?

Amanda had stared. This was some kind of vision. Was this some kind of mirage? This was some kind of miracle. Was this truly an angel?

The girl-constables gathered with their sergeant at the survey consoles, and nudged each other as they watched the mutual devastation that the alchemic chemistry of Imogene and Amanda must guarantee, and had instantly delivered with thermonuclearic clarity.

As Amanda had stood, the cell door had slammed and the key turned.

As Amanda had stood, two lovely arms seeking the warmth and comfort of the older girl, Amanda, had entwined Amanda, and fragrant hair, Imogene's, had flared Amanda's nostrils with fire and desire.

There had been no words between them: Amanda and Imogene or nor Imogene and Amanda. One look of face at face and the world stood still. One brush of lips on lips and time stood still. One kiss of mouth on mouth and galaxies tumbled. Tongues mingled with tongues: universes crumbled. And still they stood nipples pulsing. And still they kissed. In slits two too, moist musk stilled. Nipples pained. Hearts' sighs sounded. Heaven was lost. Heaven was found to the sound of girls still instilling, still kissing, stills weeping, hands seeking, love making, love coming, love cumming, still caressing, still addressing, legs inter-mingled, lips intra-singled, moisture musking, clits prancing, nipples dancing, no breath, no breath, no time for breath, breathless lips locked, deathless mouths gorging, engaged in love, made for love, making the love of love above all other loves, the love of girl with girl, the love that heaven made girl for, girl for girl for girl for girl for girl for girl……….

And Amanda. And neither Amanda nor Imogene. And Imogene. And neither Imogene nor Amanda. And Amanda. Nor either Imogene or Amanda. And Imogene. Nor either Amanda or Imogene, heard the cheers from the lair of the lovers of lovers to leer at, and peer at loves longing prolonged by girls whose cumming was silent as their still pressed mouths merged forever together, for ever and ever, time without end: midnight's midday gnomon. Amanda and Imogene and Imogene and Amanda, two heavens too heavenly for leering lessers to leaven.

………………

The walk to the bar of justice was punishment for the innocent girl even before her punishment as a guilty girl.

Amanda had been robed in white. A white neck-to-ankles dress naked below she in which, of opacity negligent to the degree of negligee, announcing pronounced nipple in its twice tented-out top front, and rotundity of profundity in the smooth mounds, no panties, breathless pants she sourced, smooth round mounds that rose and fell in rhythmic adoration of undiluted undulation, demanding hallelujah ululation, as sashay swaying, Amanda slowly graced her majesty to humble the judge before whom she must be humble and be humbled.

A white neck-to-ankles dress naked below she in which, of opacity negligent to the degree of negligee, glided serene princess of nature, with its neat bows up its sides even from ankle to shoulders, so it, Amanda's prison dress, was two-halves tied with ribbons front to rear and sides open pushed by breasts massively magnificent to sear the eyes of the seer.

Amanda must shuffle as she approached her trial, for she bore wore at ankles, one-inch-long chain-hobbled, a heavy iron ball that dragged the ground behind where her bare feet had twice-blessed with their dainty caress.

The pronounced lips on Amanda's proud queenly face quivered with "kiss-me" Morse-telegraphed by their passionate pulsation. And the sensation of the pink tongue that languorously livened their loveliness by moistening their moistness, anointing them with dew, so shining anew that they wanted you, and you they, to kiss and kiss forever and for never to cease the increase: Amanda with passion's mouth: provocative, pert, proud negress' lips longing for kisses on kisses, and deserving only of having their kisses kissed for eternity's eternity.

Amanda quivered as she shivered with fear before the judge's high bench. Amanda quivered and shivered with fear and her profoundly wonderful deep breasts rose and lowered with her deep breaths, as her nipples danced the double-tented big-top of her white dress breathlessly beautifully boundlessly sensationally soundlessly.

Amanda's nostrils flared, scared as she was, and her eyes, her darker-than-dark dark-brown eyes, played and prayed to find comfort in her surroundings, and from her predicament, but with no solace as, solo, she must list to pronouncements and announcements awaiting her fate.

Asked the judge from her high seat behind huge high desk: "And whom is this delightful creature?"

"May it please your worship, she is one Amanda Heavensent, an erstwhile highly regarded student of mathematics and astrophysics, attending the University of Camford no less: but now dropped-out. A one-time waitress failed of performance. And most recently a personal maid, who has seen fit to reward the generosity of her employer, by running away", announced the sublime contralto of a divine Asian-Indian prosecuting attorney, whose raven black locks shone with the rainbow that ran up and down its deeply desirable ankle-length glory, as the light was prismed whenever and wherever she moved her princessly head, gliding twixt judge and jury: a judge and jury transfixed by Amanda.

"Your worship?…" Numinah, the state attorney called, to distract the judge's fascination with Amanda, whose eyes were lowered with fear………

"Your worship?…"

"Just so, just so. And the name of this wonderful delight?"

Astonished that she had not been heard first out, but understanding why, as Amanda's lovely breasts quivered, and Amanda's nipples jiggered in her all-but transparent white: white the contrast to Amanda's goldenly delicious negroid-browness, Numinah repeated: "Amanda Heavensent your worship"

"Amanda Heavensent your worship", Numinah repeated, keeping, as was hardly seemingly possible, her new brief to the judge, briefer than her own exceptionally brief and very pretty, and very prettily full filled, and thus very prettily fulfilled, briefs below her legal lawyer's raiment.

"Apt: so apt………" murmured the lust love lost judge staring at the vision: Amanda.

"And of what is this perfect angel accused?" the judge enquired, as Amanda blushed, head hung low in the light of the judge's unwavering admiring and non-admonishing, astonished and astonishingly bold stare, and the compliment from such high official office.

"May it please your worship, she is guilty of contractual breach, insofar as she ran away from the mistress to whom she was a personal maid", Numinah announced.

"Just so, just so" the judge sighed.

"Identification evidence?"

"The state calls Miss Elspeth Zanori, the owner of the Le Rosbif restaurant chain your worship", Numinah announced, unselfconsciously unconsciously shaking her heavenly hair aside from her lovely features as she did so.

Elspeth had identified Amanda.

" 'Amanda'? No. Not to my knowledge your worship. We called her 'Mary'. I have no knowledge of any 'Amanda' "……….

Elspeth's lovely fourteen-year-old daughter, Natalie, next witness to Amanda's identity, seemed to begin, to the mind of the judge at least, with momentary doubt.

"Drop the prisoner's clothing please warden", ordered the judge matter-of-factly.

Amanda made no resistance as the whole court was caught in captured rapture wrapped, as the bows siding Amanda's full-length prison dress were loosened and undone, till a breathless breath-taken, breathtaking inrush gasp of overwhelmed astonishment echoed the air, as, with the side-split-slip slipping, the white robe dropped to reveal the black girl beneath, and the astoundingly stunning winning creature in all the majesty of youthful girlness, a work of no artifice, the outcome of nature, pure and unsullied, a negress of astounding loveliness, Amanda, was fully revealed wholly naked.

Natalie's sweet innocent soprano lisp seemed ignorant of the emotions emoted and the stares stirred by Amanda's nudeness and the glory of Amanda's agonisingly lovely body:

"Oh: she's Mary of course. Our maid…well mummy's maid really; but my maid sometimes as well too: sometimes that is: not all the time of course: but mummy's maid really and truly: mummy's maid: Mary….yes Mary….she's Mary your worship………!" the sweet little virgin schoolgirl nymphet singsong-sang, all giggle-gabble-girl.

The last witness having witnessed, the judge confirmed sentence:

"Amanda Heavensent, also apparently known as 'Mary', a jury consultation is not required in any breach of a maid's contract case, where there is found two witnesses or more, confirmatory of identity", she announced, sounding a little bored with passing yet another sentence, one and the same usual sentence, the minimum sentence the law allowed, on yet another miscreant personal maid.

"Amanda Heavensent, there having been two witnesses as to your identity, and the witness we have of your gracious and beautiful presence here in this court, showing by that very presence that you are blatantly not to at the post to which you were contractually bonded: to whit, that of personal maid to Miss Elspeth Zanori, and her very pretty daughter, Miss Natalie Zanori, it is my bounden duty under the law to sentence you, at minimum in consideration of it being a first offence, to twelve-month's imprisonment with hard labour."

The judge this so confirmed, before turning to Elspeth Zanori, who, having given witness, was now sitting in the well of the court:

"……….Do you wish the prisoner to be given the complimentary whipping?"

"No…….No your worship. N..No thank you your worship", Elspeth replied, in the process and progress of abruptly standing and then re-sitting, having been taken by surprise by the unexpected question.

"Next!" the judge ordered, even as the disrobed and deeply shamed Amanda had only just begun to heaven her way back to her Girl-Court cell, to await transport to the city labour camp.

………….

Amanda dreaded the lever.

The lever was pulled.

The lever pulled, dropped the peg she straddled and Amanda, and her fellow convictesses dropped in one single unison, painfully to the tip-top-of-big-toes in their ballerina-toe-tip-topped prison-booties.

The lever was pulled and a girl was lucky if her pretty toes were not in the filthy sewer trough that stank beneath them all their six-hour nights.

"Come on you idle whores, collect your bread. Shake those lovely legs now and lets get this moving", the overseer called to Amanda's band of twenty plus she: Amanda.

Other shouts of similar vein could be heard from the opposite wall-load of pegs having been dropped, as twenty-one other delightful maids made to suffer hard labour for absconding, dropped to dainty tiptoed naked-all-but-booties-ness.

Amanda's overseer today was Banaia. Banaia was delightfully pretty. She was adorned by adorable freckles. Her ever-moist mouth was lusciously lustrous. She was no more than fifteen. Too poor to have been able to afford school, she had found the only job she could find. And even this job she would never have been allowed were she not prepared to be spiteful with the whip.

Banaia liked her uniform skirt short. Her legs were slim and very pretty. The proud way in which she filled the white blouse she must wear, showed she was braless. It would be another hot day she thought, and so Banaia had a wide-brimmed floppy sun-hat on the head of she, her head, the head of a blue-eyed blonde.

Amanda grasped her chunk of bread and dipped it practicedly into the mug of water she was supposed to drink, but needed to use to soften the crudely baked burnt bun, her breakfast.

Banaia examined the chains and neck-rings her charges wore, to ensure none were to be found loose or loosening.

"Any of you whores due on heat?" she demanded, to an answering silence.

The coincidence of the girls' cycles had not occurred as phenomenon reputed, supported reports it should. But then girls came and went from the gang, and their treatment upset or even stopped the natural cycle of many of them. The girls were not grouped long enough for their menstrual cycles to begin to coincide.

"Any of you whores due on heat?" came the question repeat.

Amanda was among those who made no answer.

The prisoners passed the few toothbrushes allowed, between the baker's gross of them as they cleansed their mouths.

Amanda was in the last week of her sentence: her year of hell was close its close.

No mirror. Siabon would shave Amanda's legs and she Siabon's: at least the safety razors were plenty, even if shaving without soap, and using cold water, could be very unpleasant.

The state did not want its prisoners looking any less than their best. The public was sold on harsh punishment, but would be repelled if the girls looked ill kempt. Television was everywhere. Every day, everyday-TV did a documentary somewhere. The public wanted happy prisoners. The existence of happy prisoners was apparently proven by smooth legs.

The girls were there to suffer. Suffer they would and did. But suffering did not preclude girly moments, and there was a surprisingly relaxed atmosphere even between some overseers and convictesses (though never when Banaia was the warden), with only 'the regulations' differentiating their relative behaviour.

Talking was not allowed during the overnight six-hours astride the pegs, 'the regulations' required that the girls be allowed to sleep, thus they must not be allowed to talk to each other; but the girls at breakfast chatted freely, and as happily as girls under great duress could.

There were friendships and even love-affairs between them.

Amanda had kept her sweet loveliness aloof, but a number of couples held hands as they prepared to face the day.

Holding hands was all they were officially allowed to do. The wardens might 'turn their backs' and, 'accidentally', not see the occasional kiss, but full fulfilment was absolutely out of the question: it was not allowed under 'the regulations'.

In the morning inside Girl-Prison Scotland Number 134, near Glasgow, It was one hour between seven and eight, just as it was in Glasgow itself or London, And that hour, and others from among the twenty-four, including a long evening before they must astride their pegs, were allowed for 'free association' among the girls.

It had been a penal-psychologist's recommendation. Dr Amy Sexton's, 'Criminalized Girl and Avoided Recalcitrance' had laid down long since that:

"Obedience is preserved and temporally-served by allowing humanityization calculated to personalityize the girl, by 'self-and-other' identification, embracing, though decidedly not allowably physically, the so called 'significant other' factor through diadization, by granting lengthy associationization, with other thus also in-parallel non-pareil societyized prisonerized females."

Sometimes the breakfast hour would even drift into two-hours. Rain was the most frequent cause of this. The wardens did not have a care if the prisoners spent a day in the rain, but did care if they themselves were to be saturated.

Amanda dreaded Banaia.

Amanda knew: she just knew that something was about to happen.

"Okay you whores, grab your cloths, and lets get this show on the road!" Banaia shouted clapping her hands to silence the rising music of inter-girl chatter.

"Siabon!"

The gorgeous Irish colleen curtsied to Banaia.

"Siabon: you're on latrines. Before we come back, I want all this area scrubbed till even its shine shines. And I expect the shit-trough to be as clean as a hounds tooth. And it had better be so fuckin' clean you could eat out of it, cos if it ain't, then girl, you ARE gonna fuckin' eat out of it!"

Siabon curtsied once again, to confirm she would obey.

"Jazeel!" Banaia, called next.

"Jazeel?!"

"Jazeel: where the fuck are you?!"

An astonishing Turkish delight, a fourteen-year-old nymphet, was squatting her goddess given haunches over the latrine trough, and her heavenly wine was hissing to shameful waste, among the 24-hour previously gathered faeces and urine.

Banaia had already drawn her whip. She carried a strop-strap some four-feet in length, round at the handle, flat at its 'business end', one-and-a-half inches wide, and fully one-quarter-inch thick at that same end. Heavy leather, it whistled through the air and, 'THWICK!!' struck the Turkish angel full on her beautiful left thigh, slapping her onto her side 'splash' into the stinking latrine.

"You fuckin' answer when I fuckin' call you, you fuckin' bitch!" Banaia screamed.

'THWICK!!' for so called 'good measure' Banaia's whip-strap kissed the divine heaven of Jazeel's bare derriere, and made the little angel reflex-buck and scream.

"You think yerself fuckin' lucky whore. Laundry!"

Jazeel stood on trembling legs, and with tears coursing down her pretty face, curtseyed acknowledgement that she would work as the laundress that day.

Amanda took up her white cloth. It was the only clothing the prisoners wore. Siabon and Jazeel would stay naked bar their chains, they were not going out into the world. But for Amanda and the other girls in her troop, there was a mile-long walk to the stone quarry.

Amanda began to wrap the cool white cotton cloth around her supremely slim waist, and then took its tails, the tails from the knot presently at her hips, around her back, before drawing the tails up between her superb thighs, to tuck them into the band around her waist, and thus cover her intimate parts.

"Amanda!" Banaia suddenly called, causing Amanda's body to leap with the shock of its suddenness so close: close to a degree Amanda had not realised that Banaia was standing behind her.

"Amanda: are you on your fuckin' bleed?!"

Amanda, TNT, the totally natural temptress, was indeed at that epitome of her natural cycle confirmatory of her distinction as a member of the highest sex: the red seal of goddess' imprimatur to practice as a girl, and no lesser creation.

Amanda had known she was 'due on' and knew that morning first thing that she had 'come on', and only naturally wished to keep the intimate secretion secret and secreted, till her moon based cycle had completed its red hot red run.

Amanda curtsied thighilly in confirmation she was indeed menstruating.

"Then take that fuckin' cloth off you dirty whore. I ain't going to have good cloth wasted on prisoners' fuckin' monthlies!", Banaia ordered.

Amanda slowly undressed from even that lowly and tiny vestment, that last vestige of cladding to mark her as a fellow within the civilised and thus clothed world: the last sliver of dignity she was allowed as a prisoner, and passed it to Jazeel, whose nimble fingers on lovely hands, hid that it already had some of Amanda's red streaking it crimson.

The prisoners were lining up. Amanda took the rear. Each girl had picked up the huge iron ball that was chained to the middle of the chain between their slim ankles, so they could carry it as they walked. Banaia went down the row, clipping one long chain to the back of the front girl's neck-band, and the same chain to the front of the next girl's band, and the next, and the next, till all nineteen remaining girls of Amanda's troop, were chained neck to neck.

Amanda's wiggling rump magicked the rear as, tiptoed and with her divine buttocks thus clenched and concavely side-dimpled supremely smoothly, Amanda's long tautly-tight girlmuscle-smooth extremely supremely shapely legs and dynamo-powerful thighs, formed the rear: Amanda's delicious rear formed the rear: Amanda naked as nature formed the rear, as the girls were ordered to walk.

Amanda's delicious rear formed the rear, as the nineteen wicked former maids under punishment, wiggled and waggled their delightful full round bottoms, marching, although such was not the strict requirement, in unison, and with unison of left-right, left right, swing, thus imparted to the breasts of all the lovely girls, bar little Amika, a fourteen-year-old tiny tittied school-aged naughty nymph, whose virgin-firm little breasts and long pink nipples jiggled in rhythm as she led from the front of the Indian-file crocodile.

Amanda was the only fully naked girl there, and she the more naked felt, even for the absence of the merest covering the cloth around the lower beauty of her companion convictesses formed.

Amanda was also marked out by another factor: a bright red factor seeping from her slice.

……………

Every day it was the same delightful pain. Every day the walking prisoners left the gate to be among a gaggle of screaming, giggling teasing taunting, deliciously lovely schoolgirls.

These girls, fourteen to fifteen of age-years at most, were still in discovery of their growing womanly powers, and were not shy of showing the wonder of burgeoning bodies, in knowing-innocence of the beauty of the display of firm young breasts, and pretty legs.

Uniform yes: Monday to Thursday yes: but Friday!! Oh Friday!!!

Monday to Thursday: as if it were not bad enough: these lovely mischievous minxes in school uniform of near bursting white blouses, buttons strained to flying off by hardly contained uncupped and thus uncontrolled and unrestrainedly jogger-jigger titties, wore flared skirts so short that their white panties showed, so bright white, so very taut as to delineate their virgin-tight slits in mid of frontal down-sweeping nude-shaven post-pubescent pulchritudinous pouch, and expose cheeky bare naughty little bummy quarter-cheeks at rear to sear seer. And, as if this were not pleasure-torture enough there was Friday!

And Friday?! Friday was 'dress-down-day' at school, and these innocent ingénues dared each other to wear the latest fashion for high thigh high, white, thigh squeezing elasticised-topped, cotton socks, and split-sided, both sides-split, micro-micro-mini-skirts, with tiny g-string panties, leaving pretty bottoms completely bare, and pointy conical gold or silver nipple-caps.

Nipple-caps were all the rage with young girls in 2084. They wore nothing above their hips bar their stick-on or clip-on nipple-covers. The Australasian zing singer, Kala Zino, had made the rave inevitable when she had appeared at the 2083 Newmold Festival in nipple-caps and little else.

Now, in honour, and ape, and ache of desire to be wearing the latest daring fashion, throughout Britain, on school dress-down day at least, gorgeous little schoolgirl titties frolicked fully free, as lovely angels skipped and teased each other on their way to and from the school day.

Many of the latest designs of nipple-caps had bells on the ends of their pointed tips: bells further decorated with dangling ribbons. And, though the ribbons were only meant for looking pretty, girls had inevitably taken to pulling their friends' ribbons to tease them, by making their nipple-bell 'ding-a-ling' as the tug-teased-tittie made its mesmerising merry dance so tantalisingly and oh so musically.

Now, about town, when a girl approached: along with the supremely erotically arousing sound of extremely high heels 'click' 'clack' 'click' 'clack' on the sidewalks, also went the gentle 'tinkle', 'tinkle', 'tinkle', 'tinkle' of bouncing titties, bountiful and beautiful with swinging tinging singing beribboned nipple-caps and their nipple-tip-bells.

For a girl such as Amanda, celibate for a year, the near-year of her hard-labour sentence, such sights, and the musical sound of playful schoolgirls on their way to their day, were supreme pain and sublime pleasure.

The freedom these blossoming women had, was so much in contrast with Amanda's restraints.

And Natalie, now fifteen, was always among them and Natalie was so stunningly pretty.

And Natalie led the mocking calls at the prisoners, as they tiptoe-wiggled in file, under Banaia's guard.

"We can see your bummy! We can see your bummy! We can see your bummy!" followed by giggles that showed their was ferment in the format of their cruelty, and that all were going to deny among and between them, that they were schoolgirls turned-on by the sensual beauty of older girls such as Amanda, and that the blushes such as Natalie wore on peach soft complexion, hid girly mini-erection: the twitching of clitori among a wellspring, well sprung, of moist musk in immature whelp wet whetted naughty-nice-naughty tight little slices.

………….

Girlacles temporarily off and cast aside to free her lovely arms for her labours, Amanda lifted her heavy sledgehammer. Glorious slim beauty natural as nature if not more than, in sinews and soft girlmuscular arms and long tiptoed legs, led to her swinging the hammer through its thousandth arc of the day, as the drizzling rain anointed her with heaven's tears, running in rivulets and diamonding in droplets on her soft brown, soft bare flesh, to wash the sweet sweat of her humbling labour, as she fought to break the unbreakable, smashing the hammer down, on what might just as well be a mountain, as the unyielding granite rock she was so usefully youthfully uselessly being made to hit, to beat perchance to break: no chance.

Each blow reverberated through Amanda's slender frame and bounced her titties down and up again, endlessly sensationally. Her poor pretty hands had long since bled from rawness and soreness, and were now callused and hardened by the callas treatment of the hard-labour she must endure and had endured near full her twelve-month sentence now.

For eight hours she had this day swung the hammer, with her inside thighs anointed with the red of her loosing-streak in her bleed week, as her menstruum seeped from slit between sigh thighs of heaven high.

And Amanda knew that Banaia love-hated her, and Banaia had whipped her on and off all through the day, and denied her water, and ordered Amanda to work through the midday break. As the other girls whiled an hour out of the shower of rain, Amanda swung her hammer again and again, and again, and her screams as Banaia's whip kissed her bottom time after time with pain, punctuated the punctual stoppage for bread and pottage. And Banaia was lover spurned and thus spurred to hurt by hurt, as innocent Amanda had not wanted to despoil a fifteen-year-old risking her job for lust not true love, and must now take the beating on her nudity as 'THWICK!!', Amanda's knees nearly buckled as she hollered her pain at the whip's kiss aflame across dimpled derriere on stilted legs long and smooth and supremely shapely. And 'THWICK!!' Banaia's anger again rocked Amanda whose feet touched ground only by dint of metallic tips in curved steel-lined soles keeping her ballerina tiptop-tip-of-big-toe-standing leggy leg stretched. And 'THWICK!!' Banaia would knock the flawless girl she adored to floor with more of the whip. And 'THWICK!!' as Amanda screamed now being whipped for forbearing to swing her hammer for pain. And 'THWICK!!', the whip kissed her sexy bummy again. And Amanda wanted to beg not to be beaten. And 'THWICK!!' Banaia slapped Amanda around her side and poor Amanda staggered and caught hold of her flogged right tittie. But now Amanda was incensed insane and wanted the whip again. And 'THWICK!!' her bummy was slapped savagely hard, and she swung her hammer against the unyielding shock of the unbreakable rock, and moan-squeak-screamed with wanton woman whimper. And 'THWICK!!' Amanda's bummy was thrashed and reverberated to the sound of her unashamed wicked wanton's gasp of pleasure, arising with welted skin red and rising in furrows of agony from whip kissing whip's kiss weals, on cheeky cheeks well slapped. And 'THWICK!!' and Amanda's clitoris was dancing and her nipples were outstandingly out-standing and demanding of the whip's caress. And 'THWICK!!' she squealed with pain and joy as her right nipple was split with the cruellest hardest savagest stroke of Banaia's anger. Amanda's slit dripped her period's blood, and yet wretched as this made her, and hot and dampened from all arousal till 'the curse' had passed, usually past, yet the yets, she was now afire and wanted the whip's delivery of its devilry in her ultimate intimacy. And Amanda had parted her legs to beg in longing for the slap of leather on lips nether, now slippery with menstruum's crimson and sexual honey. And 'THWICK!!' yet once more Banaia whipped Amanda's bare bummy, and Amanda screamed as she orgasmed, and she knelt on the haunches of heaven, and pressed thus made-massive maid's thighs, massive thigh to massive thigh, and rubbed thigh on thigh lubricated to luminescence by sweet girl-sweat and soft rain, as pain on pain caused her to orgasm again and again, as she, hammer dropped now, clutched her breasts in hard worn palms and caressed the soft firm painfully pointed carafes, her wonderful bosom twice formed, to grasp the pinnacled-points of her negro pink-brown nipples, and squeeze them twixt forefinger and thumb, to make herself cum yet more again, as she screamed inhumanly yet thrice twice more………….. And thus so, just so, so long so, year-long since orgasm so, Amanda squatted as her menstrual blood and cum honey dripped to baptise the same, the very same hard rock her hardest strike of hammer twelve hell-long months since begun could not sunder, with the sanctify of her hot soft gentle womanly seeping weeping crimson wonder.