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BEYOND THE PESTILENCE

Part 2 The bad and the ugly

BEYOND THE PESTILENCE


PART 2


THE BAD AND THE UGLY



1



Brutus had put on a lot of weight over the past couple of years.

His hirsute expanse of belly drooped over the crotch of his banana hammock swimming thong. He lay sprawled on a daybed in the hot sunshine, watching four new slaves fucking on the freshly mown lawn. There was the lightest breeze, wafting a scent of grilling barbecue and cut grass.

The young men were rising and falling in tandem, their muscular buttocks following the ticking rhythm of the metronome. Below them, their wives were rhythmically pushing their hips up to meet them, faces shining with perspiration in the oppressive humidity.

Like synchronized swimmers, their fixed grins masked the mental trauma and physical effort required below the surface. Flesh slapped against flesh beating out a steady tempo.

Both couples were recent purchases, new to the harsh realities of life under the yoke of the Brute Corporation. But they were learning fast. The white couple were both 23 years old, while the black pair were just 22 and 21 respectively. Their youth, vigour and good looks made Brutus feel every one of his 53 years.

He snapped his fingers. “Switch.”

Unable to avoid slight hesitation, embarrassment and sideways glances, the two naked lads dismounted, knelt and rose to their feet. Their jutting erections glistened wetly in the sunlight. The tall, muscular black boy and the sandy haired athlete awkwardly swapped places, each standing over the others young wife.

“You first.”

Brutus watched the handsome white kid crouch down. His name was Rob. Hed finally married his college sweetheart only 3 weeks before their arrest. Rob put his knees between Naomis long, sprinters legs.

The gorgeous, copper coloured girl let out an involuntary wail of distress as Rob thrust his length into her for the first time. The two couples hadnt even met each other until only a few minutes before. Rob began slamming her in time with the relentless tock, tock, of the metronome.

An hour earlier, the four individuals had separately been shown training videos demonstrating what was immediately expected of each of them and, more bluntly, what would happen if they didnt obey. The terrifying images of Brutus dispassionately making examples of those few who resisted or disobeyed had turned their stomachs. Almost worse than what was shown was what wasnt shown, and the soul-shattering testimonies of victims imploring viewers not to make the same mistake. The dispassionately sarcastic vocal commentary that overlaid the film had been proven to be even more effective than somebody having to bother to lecture the inductees in person.

Brutus could no longer stick the preliminary phase; all that pleading and resisting by the women, their men hurling abuse and even fighting back. But, of course, he did like to see their absolute fury seething quietly below the surface. That was the whole amusing point.

He smiled at the grim black face of Tony, Naomis husband, and pointed to a spot right next to where Rob and Naomi were making out.

“You.” He barked. “Lie down on the grass, there, face up.”

Tony frowned, obviously struggling to control his loathing, but he obeyed, lying down parallel with them. Brutus imagined that the gruesome fate of the disobedient black couple featured in the training video had concentrated Tonys mind wonderfully. Naomis parted knees kept bumping against her husbands leg as she was rhythmically pounded by Rob.

The fourth slave of the quartet was Amber, Robs truly gorgeous, straw-blonde haired wife. She was still flat on her back staring up into the sky, awaiting instructions.

“You.” Brutus called out, so she twisted her head to look at him. Her bright red lipstick had smudged slightly. “Get up and mount his face.”

Amber quickly rose. Brutus spotted her hazel-gold eyes making fleeting contact with her husbands. Hot damn. The bitch really did have the most sensational body; one of those tiny waists that make you wonder where you dick fits, slim legs and good-sized firm jugs. He watched her clamber down over Tonys head, all four bodies now making unwanted physical contact with each other.

“Put your shitter on his nose, not your cunt !”

The white couple were side-by-side; husband fucking an ebony stranger in the missionary position, his wife grinding her bottom on a black face.

“Look up at me.”

He stared at them. Both faces were red with embarrassment and effort, shame and confusion. The girl was crying, her pouting bottom trembling in disgrace. He narrowed his gaze and bored into their young, fluttering eyes, wondering what the fuck they were thinking.


There was a rustle and a shaven-headed female slave appeared bearing a tray. She laid it down carefully on the low table next to Brutuss bed. There was a heavily chilled glass of beer, some grilled chicken wings and a bowl of potato chips.

The slave curtseyed as best she could. She was dressed in a black PVC head-to-toe suit that was obviously boiling in the oppressive heat. Her scarlet cheeks bulged and her bald head shone with sunburn. A thick penis-gag was fastened into her mouth. It was made entirely of soap. Suds bubbled down her chin like a leaky washing machine. 

He stared at her, enjoying her discomfort. The bitch had answered back when given a command. The soap was washing her mouth out.

It was the last time she would ever make that mistake. She had to learn the date, the law, and her situation, as bad and ugly as it was.

He dismissed her with a flick of his hand.


2


The year was 2012.

After the Great Pestilence of 2008 and the subsequent global famine and depression, the world had descended into a brutal new Dark Age. During the four years that followed, Stella and Brutus had built up a successful enterprise the Brute Corporation headquartered in the old region of England, with the tacit support of its corrupt bureaucrats and military leaders.

Since the introduction of the Economic Recovery Act of 2010, slavery had flourished, more than at any time since the Roman Empire. The fortunate and the strong crushed the unlucky and the weak.

In the past two years, the number of slaves had risen exponentially, and their price had plummeted accordingly. Where once Stella and Brutus had possessed only two hundred slaves, they now owned over twenty thousand !

Yet there were glimmers of hope on the horizon. Gradually the world was emerging from the post-Pestilence era. Under its new Dictator, President Rhino, the Great American Alliance was taking the lead in eradicating the final frontiers of plague and famine around the world. The war against liberal Puritania in the old North East USA was being won. Economic productivity based on slavery was driving the Alliance forwards.

Even primitive stock markets were reopening on several continents and international trade was slowly growing. Those who were free those who werent slaves were increasingly optimistic.

There was hope that the world would enter a glorious new era. 

Beyond the Pestilence.


3


Brutus turned back to his performing seals. Robs eyes had glazed as he relentlessly nailed his unwilling partner.  Although he was blatantly not enjoying it in any civilised sense, especially with his new wife galloping along beside him, his innate biological system was on autopilot. It was obvious he was nearing the point where hed lose control and spurt his mess inside the shapely young black woman.

“Okay. Out ! At once !”

He watched their limbs disengage.

“Lie down like the other two. You ! Get on his face.” He instructed Naomi. She seemed almost keen, hopping into position.

Now the two women were both riding the mens noses. White on black and black on white. Like a galloping Zebra ! Four plump tits bouncing in a row. The mushy sounds of cunt smothering nostril made Brutus smile.

He sipped his beer and scooped up a handful of potato chips.

“Enough ! Swap positions now. Men riding the womens faces.”

It was amusing to study Rob and Tonys fuming expressions as they each got up and prepared to sit astride the others wife. Their precious possessions about to be sullied by another guys sweaty anus.

Brutus eased himself up from the bed and waddled the short distance to the couples. He patted each young man on his bouncing head in turn. It was quite evident they were livid under their fixed stares.

“Good lads. Up, higher. Now down. Really pummel their faces.”

He stood inches from them, his own glare daring the boys to take him on.

They didnt.


He returned to his bed, drank some beer, and rang a small bell.

A pair of burly uniformed guards arrived in seconds.

“Ah, gentlemen. We need some help.”

The shorter of the two guards had drawn his pistol. He was of Asian origin, with an ugly, mean pock-marked face.

“Calm down.” Brutus laughed. “You wont need that pistol. Youll be using a different sort of weapon.”

The other guard grinned. He was lanky, white, goofy-faced.

“These two men have got their ladies all hot and bothered. Unfortunately, theyve run out of time and so we need a couple of reserves to come off the bench and finish the job !”

Brutus clicked his fingers at Rob and Tony. “Off ! Dismount !”

Gritting their teeth, both slaves staggered to their feet. Their erections bobbed pathetically like gaffed fish in front of them.

“You.” He said to Rob. “Which of these fine gentlemen would you prefer to fuck your lovely Amber ? Quick !”

Robs handsome face crumpled in shame and distress. He held his head in his hands for a brief moment then he jerked his finger at the goofy guy. The white guard grinned and high-fived his colleague.

Brutus held up his hand. “Er, just a minute. I said which would you prefer. You made a typically racist choice. In which case,” Brutus said to the pock-marked Asian instead, “I wonder if you would be so kind ?”

Brutus watched the guard hurriedly remove his uniform, revealing a squat, sallow body rippling with sinewy muscles.

Amber was lying on the grass, sobbing softly.

“Oh dear.” Brutus said to her husband. “Kneel down and reassure your lovely bride youll still love her even after shes fucked the nice guard. Go on, help her get used to it. I assure you he wont be the last.”

Rob groaned. He pummelled his own temples in frustration then sank to his knees to comfort his wife. Brutus smiled inwardly as Rob looked to the skies in a kind of supplication. Tears were coursing down his handsome young face. He whispered into Ambers ear for her to be brave.

“Now, be hospitable and invite him to give her a good fucking.”

“Please … oh my g … give her a good fucking !”

The young Asian, who was probably no more than 23 years old himself, needed no second invitation. He hissed with glee as he sank his dick between Ambers reluctantly parted thighs.


Tony was made to perform a similar charade with the tall, white guard. The once-proud, Denzel Washington-lookalike knelt and asked him to give his beloved Naomi as good a fucking as Amber was getting.

“Kiss your wives while they fuck !”

Both men crouched and put their lips to their wives wet faces.

The two guards reached orgasms within fifteen seconds of each other, thrusting and grunting, and spewing their loads into the humiliated women with long drawn-out groans.

“Say thank you !”

First Rob, then Tony, gritted their teeth and thanked the guards, who were starting to put their uniforms back on. They grinned a little self consciously and shrugged.

“Hey guys. It was nothing.”

“Tell them you hope they can do it again some time.”

“We … hope you can do it again some time.” The two male slaves stammered in unison.

“Okay. Lie down face up.”

Brutus finished his beer and accepted another, watching Naomi and Amber glistening with sweat as they performed a lesbian embrace sitting astride their husbands lapping tongues. The two women kissed, and fondled each others breasts, while the guards semen trickled into the open mouths below.

He idly pondered what game to play next ?


4


Stella watched from the window above, smiling wistfully at the scene.

Ever since the mysterious disappearance of Brutus Junior, her husbands son by his first wife, he hadnt been the same man; eating and drinking too much, disinterested in normal sex with her, venting his anger on their unfortunate slaves.

Not that she minded. She still loved him. But she was ten years younger; better preserved physically even for her age, sharper mentally, at a different stage in her life to him. It was her who drove their business onwards now, building it into one of the most important companies of the new post-Pestilence era. It was her who politicked with the bureaucrats and bribed the military chiefs. It was her who mingled at the highest levels with the rulers of the Northern Alliance. It was her who maintained their secret friendship with Rhino, now Dictator of the Great American Alliance.

She turned from the window.

To her, slaves were no more than workhorses. They were digits in a profit and loss column. It didnt matter if her husband went over the top but she couldnt have everybody else doing likewise. Of course her guards were welcome to mentally and physically abuse the slaves within reason, as much as they liked. Who really cared ?  It helped crush their spirits and keep them docile.

But there needed to be a line drawn for economic reasons. Defile them, use them hard, yes, but to break them needlessly, without producing entertainment value for sale, wasted valuable capital.

Hence the need for her to address all new recruits.


Her headquarters was a suite of private rooms; a large office where she stood now, with windows overlooking the lawns, a smaller windowless room with strong boxes, safes and filing cabinets, her own private bathroom, small kitchen, and a reception area with two secretarial desks.

Everything was in the best possible taste. Furniture, paintings, sculptures often purchased at knockdown prices from distressed sellers, or in the States liquidation auctions when a bankrupts possessions were disposed of. Of course, some pieces had been acquired at the same time as the slaves who had owned them. In fact, one of her secretaries worked at the very same 15th Century desk he had so proudly owned while running a property company.

Antiques had since become priceless, as so many had been damaged and destroyed during the Pestilence. Back in 2009 and 2010, the State had ordered huge bonfires of peoples infected houses, possessions and memorabilia as policy to eradicate the plague. Flames and smoke billowed into the skies for days while homes and valuables were turned to ashes. It was estimated that 90% of all the remaining pre-20th Century furniture had been destroyed.

Stella walked from her office to the reception area. By the standards of most slaves, these two were incredibly lucky. Her male secretary was Paul. He was still only 37 and yet he had built up a highly successful property company, developing and owning homes for the super-rich, until his empire crashed around him. She had purchased him in the very last auction of 2011, and spent months training him to her satisfaction.

He looked up and gave her his most adoring smile. She didnt care whether he hated her or not. His feelings werent relevant. His behaviour was.

“May I bring you lunch Madam ?”

She inclined her head imperceptibly, but he caught her meaning; not yet.

Her female secretary was Demi. She was 38 years old, 4 months pregnant. Her swelling was just beginning to show. She was an ex-socialite do-gooder, one of those women who were always on some charity ball committee and in glossy society magazines. Her husband was somewhere in the Compound now, either working in the factories or fields. Stella had no idea without looking up the file. Demi had been separated from him on arrival, 12 months earlier.

Stella held out her hand. Demi handed her three files. They were slim, beautifully presented, with just a few leaves of paper inside. Demis expression was apprehensive, as if even after all this time, she never knew whether her work would be deemed satisfactory or not.

“Show them in.”


There were three new recruits; two male guards and one female. The Corporation received hundreds of applications a week. Her F.R. Department handled everything from initial filtering, several interviews, rejections, up to final approval.

Stellas Head of Freeperson Resources could generally be trusted to make good decisions. Usually approval was a formality.

The three lined up in their smart new black uniforms in front of her desk.

She smiled, leaving them standing but at ease.

The first male was a ginger-haired monster; 6 4” and 221 lbs, according to his file. He was also older than most applicants at 33.

“I see you served time a few years ago for two counts of rape ?” she said, perusing the notes.

“Yes, Maam. Only date rape, Maam. Not strangers. Just, you know, girls who changed their fucking minds.”

She smiled indulgently. “Well, youll find they dont change their minds here. But I expect a little self restraint please.”

“Yes Maam.”

“Okay. Youre hired on a months trial. Dismissed.”

She picked up the second file as the giant carrot left the room.

The second male was a squat, bullet headed brute with cheap tattoos visible on his neck.

“So, is it Daniel, or Dan ?”

“Dan, Maam.” He replied, revealing a set of typically bad teeth. Dental cosmetics and oral hygiene hadnt been a preoccupation of the English lower classes at the best of times. The age of pestilence had only made a bad situation worse.

“And why do you want to join us, Dan ?”

He shrugged. “A job. And I hate fucking toffs that has lost their dosh, know what I mean.”

She gave him another of her tolerant smiles. “Okay. And a little self restraint from you too Dan.”

He clenched his fist in triumph, hissing. “Yessss. Thanks Maam.”

“A months trial, dismissed.”

The female was a whole new ball game. Whilst the two men had been typically loutish, she exuded a calm contempt. The FRs psychometrics testing had graded her as borderline psychopath.

“Welcome, Katja.”

“Thank you, Maam.”

“Please take a seat.”

Stella studied her. The black uniform was striking against her pale, Eastern European skin. The skirt rode up as she sat and crossed her legs. Her file said she was 22 and she looked younger, but something about her midnight blue eyes suggested she might have been twice her age.

“I am told you worked as a prostitute for a number of years.”

The rosebud mouth opened to reveal white even teeth. “Yes.”

“And that gave you a certain … er, view of men ?”

Katja shrugged. “Not all men. But yes, most men are evil.”

Stella was pleased that the womans accent was easy to understand.

“Evil or not, I trust you can control yourself not to kill them ?”

“Of course. What would be the fun in that ?”

For the first time, Stella caught a glimmer of the young woman behind the mask. She made a snap decision.

“In that case, Katja, I have a little project for you. A bit of fun.”

The eyes narrowed with interest.

“In that case, Maam, Id be pleased to accept.”


5


It looked much like a normal alfresco lunch.

Brutus was sat at a table with Amber and Naomi perched on a bench either side of him. Tony and Rob sat on the opposite side of the wrought iron picnic table.

They were all topless in the sunshine, near the edge of a small lake, their skin shining with sweat and oil, plates of grilled meat and salad in front of them. In the distance, several dogs lay dozing in the sun, waiting hopefully for leftovers. Brutus looked somewhat incongruous alongside the four other much younger, fitter people.

Nevertheless they all listened to him intently, laughed exaggeratedly at his jokes, and the two women flirted stiffly. They giggled anxiously when he put his arms around their shoulders and pawed their bare breasts and nipples. Neither man showed any visible sign that he objected to what was happening. On the surface it resembled a macabre scene from a film noir.

“So,” Brutus asked, leaning over to mock-whisper to Rob, “imagine you could do absolutely anything to your new friend Naomi here, what would you do ?”

Everybody chuckled, but it was a strangely, kind of forced, canned laughter.

Robs blue eyes flickered from Naomi, to Tony, from Amber to Brutus.

“Oh … er, wow. Id fuck her, Sir. From behind, in the doggy position.”

Brutus gave a wan, unexcited smile, then frowned. He shifted to one side and raised his buttock, letting rip with a noisy, uninhibited fart in Ambers direction.

“I said anything, son. I meant anything. Is that the best you can do ?”

Rob blinked in panic. He glanced again at his own wife, Amber, as if hoping for inspiration. “Well, you mean anything ? Like A N Y T H I N G ?”

Everybody pretended to laugh as he called out the letters, buying himself time. Brutus leaned left and gave Naomi a slobbering kiss on her full lips, then to his right to bury his tongue deep into Ambers mouth.

“Anything.” Brutus eventually confirmed, indulgently.

Rob swallowed. He stared at the lake, at a loss as to what to say, eyes eventually catching the dogs lazing in the sun. “Er … I guess if I could choose any single thing, anything at all, Id love to watch a woman …” his voice broke, the final five words coming out with a squeak, “ … having sex with a dog.”

There was a total silence.

Nothing but an embarrassed communal intake of breath. It was likely that everybody realised that hed panicked, plucking the first outrageous idea he could think of out of his brain, but not what had triggered his response.

Then Brutus laughed and raised his pint of beer in the air.

“A toast ! To Robs splendid idea.”

Slowly, Rob Amber, Naomi and finally Tony raised their own glasses of water.

“To … er Robs … s … idea !”

Brutus turned to Naomi. “Dont worry, my dear, we have several specially trained mutts for you to choose from.” He belched loudly, spraying a mist of beer over her and tweaking her dark nipple between his thumb and index finger. “Admit it. I can see the idea has made you hot and excited.”

Naomi looked sick. She shook her head from side to side. “ … yes, Sir.”

He turned to Tony, peering over the edge of the table. “I can see were going to have to get a cage on that dick of yours, son. Youre getting a hard-on thinking about your lady here fucking a big black lab, right ?”

Finally, he leered at Amber. “And dont you be getting jealous. Your husband said hed love to watch a woman having sex with a dog. Not just Naomi. A woman. Or maybe two women, side by side. Hey Rob, how hot thatd be, huh ?”

He laughed loudly, snapping his fingers at a slave for more beer.

“Tuck in folks. Youre not eating. Try those corkscrew shaped, sausage-looking things youve all been served. Theyre real pigs penises. Im told theyre delicious.”

He waited while they reluctantly, silently picked up their plastic forks.

“So now,” Brutus continued, leaning over to mock-whisper to Tony, “imagine you could do anything to Amber here, what would you do ?”


6


Dan licked his lips as the Warden concluded his orientation speech.

He sat at desks with four other guys being allocated his first assignment. He had been detailed to the male slaves wing, which was a bummer. Still, it was quite clear from what the warden had said that thered be plenty of opportunity to mingle with the female slaves !

Speaking of which, a gagged and petrified young lady was suspended from the ceiling in a hogtie throughout the speech. Throughout the talk she simply hung there, long black hair and heavy tits dangling down. The elderly Warden paid her no attention until he smiled at Dan and the others.

“Now, gents.” He enquired. “May I have a show of hands ? Which of you has actually raped an unwilling female before ?”

Dan glanced round. They all exchanged sheepish grins. The only arm that went up was the tall ginger-haired guy who hed seen in Madam Stellas office. Dan figured him for an exaggerator.

The Warden nodded, using his conductors baton to set the young girl spinning on the chain. He stopped her after shed rotated a few times, so that her head faced away from the audience. Dan ogled her cunt and asshole. Her neck was pulled up so he could see her stuffed face as she span round. She looked like a student. Her spine was arched in a u that only a supple young chick could manage.

The baton prodded her buttocks and her anus. The Warden smiled and used the tip to part the flaps of her cunt, showing the guys everything.

There was a shrill, gagged mewling sound from the girl.

“This young lady is a new arrival on the other side of the aisle.” The Warden said. “You are male guards. She is a female slave.” He rotated her again, so her face was staring at Dan. She had interesting, indignant hazel-coloured eyes.

The Warden picked up a piece of paper and began reading aloud.

“Our friend here is single but not, sadly, a virgin. Shes the only child of Mr and Mrs Jordan, who are also somewhere within this Compound. She lists travel, TV soaps and dancing as her hobbies. Her measurements are a rather handsome 38D, 22, 32. Her ambition is to get into movies, a career goal which, Im pretty certain, we will be able to fulfill !”

The guys all laughed. Dan adjusted his stiff dick in his pants.

“Would you all assist me please.”


They lowered the chain and fastened her, face up, on the large front desk. Her wrists and ankles slotted into built-in steel cuffs. She struggled a little and moaned but was easily overcome by the lusty five young men. Her buttocks hung over the edge of the zinc-top table and eager hands pulled her knees wide apart.

Dan couldnt take his eyes off her splayed cunt. Shed been shaved and everything was visible. Her pink folds resembled a living piece of elastic art. He wet his lips again. In his entire life hed never seen anything so fucking gorgeous. In truth, hed shagged only three women, one a hooker and one an ugly, drunken one-night stand. Guys like him never got the hot, classy cunts. His only true girlfriend had been nice enough but nothing to write home about on the looks front. His truest partner in life had been trusty Mr Palm and his five fingers.

Until now.


“As you know, youve all taken the full range of STD tests and passed, so I can assure you that gang rapes here are nothing to worry about. Well …” he smiled, “for the guards, anyway.”

He prodded his baton at her arid folds.

“As you can all see, shes nicely dry. Im afraid that after a while, even the most unhappy slaves lubricate. Its the female bodys self defence mechanism. So make the most of them while theyre untrained.”

He turned and looked at Dan. “Er … Daniel, right ?”

“Yeah, Dan.”

“Would you mind doing the honours, young man ?”

Dan grunted a little laugh. “Nah, course not.”

He hurriedly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. The other guys were looking at him, half enviously, half pleased not to have to open the show. He tugged off his leather boots, trousers and yellow-stained underpants.

His erection already oozed pre-cum from his excitement.

Dan stood in position between the girls thighs. Her eyes looked up, pleading. He grinned, licking his thumb, dabbing a gob of saliva into the middle of her cuntfolds.

She whimpered and tried to shift her hips about. The gang laughed and held tighter, pulling on her knees and pushing her shoulders down.

Dan couldnt draw it out any longer. He placed the tip of his dick at the mouth of her twat and thrust.

Oh man !

She was like a velvet glove. So snug, so damned good. He slid in all the way, then out, in and out. His own saliva and pre-cum eased his passage. Her resentful tunnels attempt at resistance only tightened its grip.

“Fucking A !” he exclaimed, making them all chuckle.

Now he was inside, he started to look around, make himself at home. He put his hands on her tits and squeezed them.

The Warden caught his eye. “Are you making love to her, Daniel, or raping her ?”

Dan clenched his hands harder, sinking his fingertips into her mounds.

She hissed and wriggled. Her cunt clamped wonderfully round his dick.

“I think its time to remove the gag, dont you ?” The Warden said.

Fervent hands unfastened and pulled out the ball gag.

She shrieked, wailed. “Noooooo …”

Dan shut his eyes in bliss. Her cries were proof. At last. He was actually doing it. Whats more, being paid to do it ! No comebacks. This was part of his job. Fuckin incredible. He began slamming into her.

She was sobbing now, grunting in rhythm to his lunges. Her tits were rocking and rolling like jelly desserts at a kids birthday party.

He held her chin, squeezing her cheeks, forcing her to focus on him.

Look at me bitch ! Im Dan. And dont you forget my face. Im your first fucking rapist. They say you never forget your first.

The guys were getting impatient. One had even lowered his pants and was leaning in, rubbing his cock over her tit. Another had unzipped himself and was fondling his erection.

“I think your colleagues would like to … er … avail themselves of the facilities.”

Dan nodded, his jaw slack. He pushed his head up and shut his eyes, pumping spurt after spurt into his victims love compartment.


He hadnt realised how much fun it would be to watch a rape. In his fantasies, hed always focused on his own moment. But it was almost as good, standing round after, chilling, admiring the entertainment. Now that he was sated, swigging a chilled beer provided by the Warden, he studied the varied fucking techniques used by his new mates.

He also scrutinized her face. The bloke whod first suggested that Dan apply to the Brute Corporation had said rape was a two-way street. Its the mans job not just to get as much pleasure as he can, he should also give the chick as much grief as possible.

The huge ginger-haired guy went fifth. To give him his due, he had a monster-cock. Dan peered down to admire the pearly slick of jism leaching from her cunt down to her anal crack. Some had puddled on the floor.

The guys big, freckled hands lifted her buttocks and thumbed open her anus. She tried to resist but he managed to aim his helmet at just the right spot. Dan laughed at her pathetic wail.

“Naa … ahh … you …”

The thick cock breached her sphincter forcefully. Dan joined the chorus of cheering, drowning out the chicks shrieks, feeling his own groin stirring for a second round.

He watched as the guy wood-peckered away until he was wedged fully inside her.

The Warden smiled, gesturing at the plastic crate of ice and beers.

“I have to dash now.” He said to them, glancing down at the pocket watch in his waistcoat. “But you young men are clearly capable of looking after yourselves. You have another hour or so before you need to report for duty.”

He shook Dans hand, then anothers.

“Welcome to the Brute Corporation.”


7


Keith had been separated, along with around thirty other men, from the women. The genders were rounded up and marched away; males through one arch, females through another.

It happened without warning. One minute they were all milling nervously together, waiting. The next moment, guards were screaming and lashing. He never even had a chance to say goodbye.

Keith felt terrible. He was the head of the house. It was he whod lost all their Credits after his father died. He whod failed to find a way out of bankruptcy. And now his mother, sister and fiance were all slaves too.

Along with the other newly purchased males, he stripped naked and his body was completely sheared and shaved with clippers, until he was totally bald; head, armpits, genitals, legs, everywhere. Then they were herded into open showers. He stood in the icy jets gasping for breath. He ran his fingers over his wet, freaky skin.

Guards constantly shouted at them, lashing crops, threatening with their bullwhips, taser guns and machine pistols. A woman of around Keiths own age of 25 checked his groin and painfully plucked out the remaining few hairs with steel tweezers, while he stood dripping, naked in front of her.

A male warden with a clipboard wandered along and stared at Keith while she was doing it. He made a note and moved on.

Next the young woman pulled a trolley on castors over to her side. On it was a large selection of hollow steel tubes ranging in length and diameter from 2 inches to 4 inches, pencil-thin to sausage-wide. She picked a medium-sized one up and Keith noticed that the inside was lined with plastic bristles.

His uncircumcised penis was shrivelled with cold and fear.

She placed her thumb and index finger disdainfully on the loose flap of foreskin covering the end of his penis and pulled it, evaluating his size. Then she lifted a slightly thinner tube off the tray and held it against his limp shaft, comparing the fit. She glanced up at his face and smirked. She dipped her fingertip in a pot of lube and smeared a dollop inside the tube. Then she slowly slid the steel cylinder over his penis.

He winced as the sharp internal points pricked his soft skin, imagining the pain if he got aroused.  She pushed until one end of the tube was flush against his body and scrotum and only about ¼ inch of his helmet was visible at the other end. There was a steel eye-bolt sticking up from the end of the tube where his pubic hair would have been.

He stared at her.

She winked mischievously and threaded a thin steel cuff through the eye-bolt. It curved down under his scrotum and rejoined with itself like a bracelet. She snapped it shut, locking the tube in place.

Then she waved Keith away and another male slave took his place.


Next he was weighed, measured, made to lift various weights. The steel tube round his shaft felt cumbersome and heavy as he demonstrated his biceps. Another female, much older, grey haired, made notes. She was dressed in a white medical uniform. She asked him all sorts of impertinent questions in a clipped voice.

“Sexuality ?”

“Er … heterosexual. You know, straight.”

“No homosexual experiences at all ?”

“None.”

“Girlfriends. How many ?”

“I dont know. Not many. Five, six. Im engaged now.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Not any longer. Tell me about her. Name ?”

He told her about his fiancé. Her name was Tara and she was 21. Theyd been engaged just four months. They were due to be married in a few weeks. Although Tara shouldnt have been arrested for bankruptcy, the Stalitz police had simply rounded up everybody in the apartment that fateful evening the warrant was issued. He guessed her parents would be desperately trying to get her released but he knew from similar stories her chances werent good.

“And how often did you two make love ?”

Keith frowned. “I dont know. Pretty often. Three, four times a week. But we didnt live together. I had to look after my family.”

“Mm, you did a really good job there.” The woman observed drily. “Did you masturbate ?”

He looked at her. The male guard listening raised his taser gun.

“Yeah, sure. Most days if we didnt make love. Sometimes twice.”

The woman wrote. “What about fetishes, fantasies ?”

He eyed the guard again, shrugging. “Not really. Im pretty ordinary.”

“You dont say.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “And Tara ?”

“The same.”

“And what about your sister. Any boyfriends ?”

Keith shook his head. Lottie, his baby sis, was only 18. As far as he knew shed never had a proper boyfriend. Their strict, dear departed, father hadnt approved of premarital sex.

“And mummy dear ? Has she been putting it about since daddy died ?”

Keith recoiled, aghast she could speak about his mom like that. His mother was 46. Theyd never discussed it but he bet shed been a virgin when she married dad. He was her one and only love. Shed never look at another man after him.

“No way.”

The woman wrote a long note and then tapped her pen on the clipboard.

“Right Keith. From now on, your identifier is 200-828. Repeat.”

“Two hundred, eight twenty eight.”

“Youll be working in the gristmill.”

He glanced down at the metal cylinder compressing his penis. “Er … can I ask about this ?”

She shook her head, looking over at the next male in line, clearly indicating his interview was finished. “No. Theres nothing to ask.”


Eventually, Keith was segregated into a group of five, comprising four other guys who looked roughly his age, all mid to late twenties, maybe early thirties.

A pair of guards escorted them through a series of torch-lit corridors, across a courtyard, down stone steps, into a cavernous underground room. There were heavy iron doors at regular intervals leading off from the room. One was signposted Block 8.

They entered and passed down a wide passage. The clip-clop of the guards heavy boots echoed ominously. It smelt damp, like antiseptic bleach mixed with musty urine. It reminded Keith of American penitentiaries hed seen in movies in the old days. There were cells down the left hand side of the passage. Each was numbered.

818, 819, 820, 821, etc.

He realised he was probably in just one block of 100 cells.

And there were many blocks.

The fronts and ceilings of the cells were barred. The floors, side and rear walls were concrete. For now, they seemed to be empty. He peered inside as they walked past. The cells looked about as wide and deep as a mans height. Keith was a shade under 6ft. There was a metal cot fixed against the back wall and a steel pail on the floor. Nothing else. A couple of cells had posters or photos stuck up on the walls but most were devoid of personality.

They reached 825.

A guard pushed one male slave in and locked the barred door.

At 826, 827 the procedure was repeated.

They reached 828.

“Here you are, son. Home sweet home.”

The heavy door clanged shut behind him.

“Your own guard will be along shortly.” The heavy-set man said, chewing a toothpick and standing back to address all five cells. Hes in charge of 825 to 829. Hes new, so yall be kind to him.”


8


Amber blinked through a blur of welling tears, fighting to look into Robs eyes.

She simply wanted him to know how much she loved him. Nevertheless, she snapped the ferocious metal sheath round her husbands penis. He winced as the plastic-spiked tube snapped shut.

She glanced back down. His soft manhood was now hidden from the root to the tip by the 3-inches long metal cylinder. She was proud of Robs penis. She didnt have much experience but on giggly, drunken nights out with girlfriends shed formed the impression she was a lucky girl. Big, but not too big. Handsome too, if a penis could be considered handsome: smooth and neatly circumcised.

But the tube was so narrow that there was no way Rob could get an erection with it on. So his length was restricted too, making it appear like a young boys. There was a raised part on the metal shaft in which a keyhole was set.

She twisted the key in the lock and passed it up to her Master. The man they called Brutus.

He grinned at her, his piggy eyes and jowls brimming with amusement. His face looked like it might even have been good looking once, many years ago, before a life of decadence and brutality debauched his features. His hair had receded half way back his head and the sides had turned grey. She guessed he had to weigh over 250 lbs and she shivered as she imagined what a woman would feel like with him on top of her.

“Its for his own good my dear. You see, if your husband lost control and had an orgasm, wed have to castrate him. This way at least he gets to keep his balls, even if he doesnt get to use them !”

She lowered her eyes meekly. Then raised her head in shock and horror. Brutus had pulled back his arm and launched the key in the air. It sparkled briefly as it caught the sunlight, before dropping in a gentle arc onto the murky green surface of the lake. All of them watched the ripples spreading out from where it had entered the water.

Brutus laughed. “Dont worry. Ill let you dive for it my dear. The lake is fifteen feet deep and full of slime, but youre welcome to try.”

She hated him. But there was nothing she could do.

“Now, Naomi.” He said, turning to the poor black girl by her side, offering her a similar metal sheath and key. “Lets lock Tony here up as well, shall we ? So that he doesnt get into trouble either.”


While Naomi was forced to do to her poor husband exactly as she had done, Amber watched with revulsion as Brutus stood up and eased his tiny black trunks down his legs, revealing his perspiring, obese nakedness. She felt sick in the pit of her stomach.

He grinned at her and then at Rob.

“Phew. Its hot.” He said, sitting back down on the bench. She watched with bile rising in her gorge as he scratched his big, pendulous testicles. His penis was threateningly large though it wasnt even hard.

Naomi finished locking the steel tube onto Tonys shaft and then held out the key to Brutus.

“Take that for me, my dear.” He said to Amber. She held out her palm and watched Naomis sad brown eyes as she dropped the steel key into it. “Now, swallow it !”

Amber gasped and then frowned. “But …” she mumbled.

“Now !”

Without further hesitation, she put the small key on her tongue, tilted her head and gulped. The cold metal caught momentarily in her throat, then she felt it pass.

Amber watched him beam at Naomi. “Dont worry. Ill let you dive for that one as well. But I wonder if you love your husband enough to try !”

They all looked at each other. She, Rob, Naomi and Tony were all kneeling, their faces only inches from where Brutus sat.

He patted Amber on her head like she was a pet dog.

“Here, dear, my balls are sweaty.” She watched him finger his sticky scrotal sac away from his damp inner thighs. “Lick them clean.”

She silently crossed her fingers in supplication. Rob was watching her, unable to tear his eyes away. She wanted to scream.

But she lowered her head and put out her tongue. He was hairy, salty. And rancid. Like old French cheese. He obviously didnt use deodorant or shower often. She could also smell the cloying tang from his anus.

She heard him sigh contentedly, addressing Rob.

“Mmm, kid. Shes going to be fun, your missus, isnt she ?”

A pause. “… Yes … Sir.”

She tried her best to ignore everything, and blanked her mind except for sliding her tongue up and down his damp creases. She could feel the final remnants of the Asian guards semen oozing between her own thighs as she knelt. She felt disgusting; used, soiled, damaged, but most of all deeply humiliated.

“Which would you prefer ?” His cruel voice teased Rob. “To be separated from her, right now, never having to witness anything like this again ? Or to stay by her side, like now, watching all the fun, sometimes helping ? The choice is yours.”

“… I want to stay by her side, Sir. Always. Whatever.”

In that moment, Ambers heart almost broke. She stifled a sob.

“Aaah.” She felt Brutus patting her hair. “Sweet. You hear that dear ? He wants to stay with you. Im touched. Are you ?”

She didnt stop licking but she murmured and nodded her head. Her mind was swirling. She felt faint, like she might keel over at any second.

Only days ago, where was she, what was she doing ? Shed been a normal young woman. Poor, yes. Hungry, yes. Desperate, even. But free. And then Rob had broken the news. And the Stalitz had come and arrested them both. And this nightmare whirlpool had not stopped since.

Sex had never been a priority for Amber. Her parents had always encouraged her to put her education first and to respect her own body. Shed had a couple of boyfriends but, until Rob, the physical side of relationships wasnt important. Even with him, she knew the sex meant much more to him than it did to her. Sure, she liked it. It was what husbands and wives did. But it never touched her soul like, say, a walk in the countryside or a goodbye hug when Rob went off searching for work.

And sex to her meant straightforward intercourse. Not because she was a prude. Shed do it with the lights on, even take a turn on top, stuff like that. But all the other revolting perversions that shed overheard of like anal intercourse, bmsd or whatever it was called, and even oral sex, were beyond the pale, as far as she was concerned.

Fortunately Rob said he felt the same way as her.

Her brain drifted back to the present.

“Move in close.” she heard his voice ordering Rob. “Ill ask you again in a day or two if you want to hang around and well see if youve changed your mind.” She felt the shame of her own husbands naked flesh brushing against her hip and shoulder.

“Now feed my dick into your darling wifes mouth.”


9


Kimberley kept her head down.

She was still a virgin. What was remarkable was not that shed managed to reach the age of 20 intact, but that the gift shed been preserving for her future husband hadnt been ripped from her during the 6 days shed already been a slave in this terrible place.

What had saved her so far was that she had been purchased by Stella as part of a Job Lot. Thirty seven adults at a knock-down price in the final minutes before lunch. Kimberleys parents were members of a banned religious sect who preached that mankinds sexual lewdness and promiscuity had directly caused the Pestilence, Famine and Depression. The State Police had raided one of their secret meetings and arrested every member, including poor Kimberley, her brother and parents.

At the Brutus Corporation Compound, they had been split up on arrival. But Kimberley had already witnessed two of her prettiest friends being dragged away screaming to their fates. Her sect believed in total sexual abstinence except for the purpose of procreation. Anything other than the man on top missionary position, under bedcovers and in the dark, was considered immoral. Acts such as oral sex of any kind and perverted sexual positions were beyond the pale. Like all unmarried female members, Kimberley had taken a vow of complete chastity until her wedding night.

So she kept her eyes lowered and scrubbed the tiled floor, ignoring any feet walking past her, neither looking left nor right. She suspected the reason she had been spared. Kimberley knew she was attractive but she had learned to hide her charms over the years so that boys ignored her. Her honey blonde hair was scraped back in a ponytail. She held her body hunched and had always worn shapeless woollen clothes to hide her embarrassing breasts. She wore tortoiseshell plastic spectacles even though she didnt require actual prescription lenses.

As a result, her great fortune had been to be placed in the female area of the compound, away from the rapists and cruel male guards. She was dressed in an itchy, loose top made of sackcloth and horsehair. So long as she kept her head down and did whatever menial chores she was told, she surely had a chance of preserving her honour until she was saved.

She diligently scoured the white floor with the toothbrush shed been given, until the tiles shone. It was the female guards public washroom; comprising ten individual lavatory cubicles and a marble counter-top with five sparkling basins facing them. There was also a glass-panelled door leading to a separate tiled area with communal showers.

The guards were provided with every necessity; china bowls overflowing with soaps, moisturisers, makeup and cotton wool, hairdryers and brushes, decanters of perfume, tubs of tampons and sanitary products.

She was one of three slaves working the washroom on their knees. So far, every woman who had entered the room to use the cubicles had ignored them. Through her spectacles, she watched their leather-booted feet stride past her and heard the cubicle doors slamming. Moments later, she glimpsed their black pants being lowered to their ankles and heard the hiss and tinkle of urine, or occasionally uninhibited bursts of flatulence and splashes. Finally the sounds of flushing, cubicle doors opening again and boots brushing past her as the guards walked to the basins, carelessly leaving dirty footprints on the sparking tiles Kimberley had just cleaned.

Eventually, she reached the row of cubicles. She pushed open the partition door and crawled into a stall. The tiles were damp and smeared with dirty boot prints. She began to scrub the grouting clean.

Suddenly a guard pushed open the door. It banged against Kimberleys bottom. The guard grunted with annoyance and went into the neighbouring stall. She couldnt help seeing under the partition, as the womans uniform was lowered to her boots, inches from Kimberleys face. Within seconds she heard grunting and then a loud splash. A distinctive aroma curled under the gap and invaded her nostrils. She held her breath and carried on scrubbing.

Five minutes later, she finished the first cubicle and entered the next one, recently vacated by the grunting guard. It still stank and the floor was in a worse state, due to leaking plumbing round the back of the pan. Steeling herself, she started brushing the grouting clean.

She heard footsteps. Distinctive. A click-clack, different from the heavier thud of leather boots. The door pushed against her kneeling bottom.

“Shit !” a womans voice snapped. Kimberley caught a glimpse of high heels. “Get out and wait until Im done.”

Staring at the floor, Kimberley pushed her glasses onto her nose and started shuffling backwards out of the stall as fast as she could. Then she felt talons clawing her hair.

“What the fuck is this ? You call this spotless ?” the voice hissed.

Kimberley whimpered with pain as her hair tore at the roots. Her head was pulled up and then pushed down over the top of the lavatory pan.

“Look !”

She stared. The previous visitor hadnt flushed. A mush of soggy brown tissue paper clogged the surface of the water. Caramel coloured skid tracks smeared the back of the pan. The stench was strong.

“Im s … sorry.” Kimberley wailed. “I was only t … told to do the floor tiles.” She shrieked as her hair was pulled to and fro.

“Look at me !”

Kimberley twisted her head and blinked up at the woman. She was dressed in black stockings, grey skirt, cream blouse, dark jacket with a red silk scarf round her neck. Her cruel, aqua-blue eyes stared back.

“What is your name, you miserable slut ?”

Kimberley gulped. The woman was the most terrifying person shed ever set eyes on. Probably about 30, classically beautiful, with an oval face, a delicate jaw line and narrow nose. But it was the eyes. Something behind them. They were cold. Like ice.

“K …Kimberley.” She stammered. “Kimberley, Maam.”

The womans sneer revealed her perfect white teeth.

“Hallo, Kimberley.” She cooed, arching a dark eyebrow.

“Im Lara.”


10


Brutus stared down coldly as the sandy haired, pretty boy placed a hand hesitantly around Brutuss thickening shaft and offered it to his wifes pouting lips.

“Thank me !”

The boy dry-swallowed. “Th … ank you, Sir.”

Brutus pushed his hips up.

“Thank me for doing your fucking job, your dirty work !”

“Thank you for doing m … my job Sir, my work.”

“Your fucking job ! Your dirty work !”

“My fucking job, Sir. My dirty work, Sir.”

He winked at Naomi. Her mouth hung open. And Tony beside her.

Brutus snorted with amusement. He considered himself a bit of an expert in male territorialism, having spent two years studying the infinite variety of ways men react to the forced sharing of their women. He liked to indulge in pseudo-intellectual babble on the topic with other Owners.

Being territorial about wives and female partners runs deep in the male psyche everywhere. In Latin, Arab and Oriental cultures, this rich vein of possessiveness has continued unchanged for centuries. Brutus had recently begun trading with other continents for the explicit purpose of getting his hands on new male slaves holding such unreconstructed macho attitudes. And their women, of course.

Unfortunately, in the five decades preceding the pestilence, the white, western world had emasculated its men to such an extent that most had become preconditioned to accept everything from non-virgin brides, sexual equality, infidelity, cuckolding and the taking of their women, forced or otherwise. Nowadays few felt, deep down, their women belonged to them, in the way that males still did in less developed parts of the globe. It was mostly only master-of-the-universe, rich and upper class men who provided Brutus with extra special entertainment as their wives and women were ravished before their eyes.

But each nationality and ethnicity had its amusements. Slaves of Indian, Asian, African and Caribbean origin were commonplace in the Corporation. And the blacks had been weaned on a diet of their penile and sexual superiority. Even the intelligent and educated ones like Tony had absorbed the propoganda until they actually believed it.

Which was part of the reason he was clearly struggling to contain his rage of dishonour now and it was beautiful to watch. Tony and Naomi would have their eyes opened to the relative merits of a whole spectrum of colours and races in the days and weeks to come !

“Your turn next ! “ Brutus said to Naomi. “Meanwhile, kiss my feet.”

He stuck out his left leg so that the pretty black lady could slobber over his dusty, sweaty sandals. He slapped Ambers slim fingers away from his shaft.

“No hands.”

He began pushing her head up and down, ramming her face, making her gag, choke and moan. They didnt realise it yet, but these fine young men who were so traumatised merely by sharing their wives during these first few days would, after a few months of total abstinence, wait gratefully at the back of the line to take their turns.

The great majority of male slaves became completely desexualised for a while, as their libidos were crushed by shock, work, hunger and exhaustion. But the biological needs and testosterone that have ensured the continuation of the human race until now, inevitably slowly reawakened, especially in those aged 20s to 30s. Then it would be time for the Ceremony of Acceptance.

“You hold her head.” He barked down at Rob. He smiled inwardly at the young guys strong hands gripping his wifes head. “Pump it.”

“She used to enjoy swallowing your load ?”

Rob looked at him stunned. It was the conversation that was visibly killing him.

“Yes … well, sometimes she did a bit, Sir …” his expression changed. “Well, no, not really.”

Brutus grinned, raising his eyes to the blue sky. He was close. The Ceremony of Acceptance was usually the first, and often the last, time a lucky male slave was allowed an orgasm. He was reacquainted with his wife, or another female relative, and offered the opportunity to fuck her, say as number 50, after a motley collection of guards and, eventually, even privileged slaves had made use of her. The odd brave soul didnt want to accept but most did. By that stage they would have sodomized their dads for release. And when it was finally their turn for a 60 seconds slosh about inside their womans leaking, stretched vagina, a crowd assembled to jeer and witness the ritualised acceptance of their humbled status.

“Tell her you want her to swallow. Whisper into her ear.”

He watched Rob grimace, leaning forward. “Please, darling. Swallow it.”

Brutus roared, stretching his legs out, knocking Naomi over. His orgasm built into an exquisite peak. He started chuckling at them all, groaning and laughing simultaneously, as he spewed hot semen into Ambers delightful young gullet. Wave after glorious wave.

He had taken a Mop pill earlier. The Brute Corporation had an exclusive distributorship granted by the Rhino Company, manufacturers of the little beauties. The Mop acronym stood for Massive Orgasm Potion. Instead of producing a typical tablespoonful of semen, the Mop multiplied a guys production by twenty times.

He lay with his head back, his dick pumping like a repeating shotgun, ten, twenty, thirty rounds.

Then he opened one eye and peered down at his waist. He hated any waste of his lovely cum. His thick slab of flesh was still wedged in her mouth. A smear of pearly fluid seeped from her pursed lips but there was no sign of any real spillage. Shed gulped the whole damned wine glass full ! Shed passed the test, but then again, Lesson One was pretty easy !

He pushed her face away. “Now give your dear husband a kiss.”


11


While Stella was fed a simple lunch of exquisitely prepared raw vegetables and fruit, she sat back in her leather throne and shut her eyes. Paul stood and used a tiny silver fork to place freshly cut pieces on her tongue, one by one. Meanwhile, Demi knelt and massaged Stellas feet, before applying a new coating of varnish to her toenails. She realised the small risk she was taking. Paul could plunge the fork into her, or they could both try to overpower her. There were only a few slaves she could properly relax with like this: Demi and Paul her office staff, and Trophy and Hedge, her bedroom slaves.

She opened one eye and peered down at Demi, remembering the proud wife and mother shed been, even on the auction block. But stripped of her husband and teenage children, she had accepted her new status in life surprisingly well. Her 14 year old son and just 13 year old daughter had been taken away, adopted by one of Stellas friends, to be trained as good young citizens of the new world.

When she was a free woman, Demi had drawn the line at 2 children, still aged only 25, after her daughter was born. She had wanted her figure and freedom back.

Stella smiled. Freedom. Funny how flippantly women had used that word a few years ago. Now, as a slave, Demi was pregnant again. The worlds population stood at only 20% of the level it had been back at the time of the Beijing Olympics, before the Pestilence. So Stella ran a breeding program, doing her bit towards the restocking of the planet.

Stella watched the careful skill with which Demi applied the deep red varnish to her nails, gently blowing each one dry with her warm breath. Already Demis cleavage had begun filling out her low cut dress, as pregnancy swelled her shapely B-cup breasts. Demi had been a tall, elegant hostess at 5 9”, with patrician features and long, lustrous black hair.

Four months ago, Stella had arranged to have Demi covered. For 4 consecutive days at the peak of her fertility between her periods, she was mounted on the hour by a steady stream of prime male specimens, of all colours and types. The eventual twins would be a lottery when they emerged, but that was part of the fun.

“Hows the sickness ?”

Demi looked up, clearly shocked at being spoken to.

“Er … not bad, thank you Madam.” She dropped her eyes again.

Stella turned to Paul. He was wearing a smart suit, elegantly tailored in dark wool. Like the antique desk, it was one of his possessions shed acquired when she purchased him. The only difference was the oval hole since cut in the fly of his trousers. His shaved groin and plucked testicles were on display, framed in the hole. Paul was one of the few male slaves who wasnt kept permanently in a steel chastity device.

He placed the segment of orange on her tongue. She smiled as the cool juice trickled down her throat. He was a delightful slave; 6 3 tall, very upright and attractive with dark, slightly greying hair with a touch of that actor Pierce Brosnan about him. He was well endowed too. Not that she had ever been tempted to fuck Paul, nor ever would be. But she liked admiring a sizeable cock. It made its frustration seem that much more romantically tragic.

“Mmm … enough.”

He put down the plate and gently padded her lips with a linen napkin.

She stretched out her hand languidly and cupped his balls. He didnt acknowledge what shed done, simply continued folding the napkin.

“How long ?”

“Forty two days, Madam.”

She watched it twitch, inevitably responding to her fingers. He stood to attention, while his penis thickened and slowly rose.

She was 99.9% certain that he had remained chaste for the entire six weeks. He never had sufficient privacy from prying eyes and hidden cameras to touch himself. Furthermore, the threat, the risk, if he was caught even once; would it be worth it to him ?

“Here.” She curled her finger at Demi. “Stroke him for me.”

She watched her two secretaries. Their relationship was wholly professional. But their eye contact and body language had always made Stella think they felt nothing else for each other, despite sharing good looks. Demis long, manicured fingers caressed Pauls erection. It was now an impressive 8 inches with a neatly circumcised crown.

“Lick it.”

Stella admired her profile. The straight jaw, classic nose, ruby lips. Few women could apparently retain their dignity sucking cock like Demi.

Of course, Paul knew that he wouldnt be allowed to cum. That wasnt the idea. His cheekbones highlighted how he sucked in his facial muscles, controlling himself, eyes straight ahead.

“Thats enough for today.”

Demi wiped the strand of spittle from her lower lip and stepped back.

Paul stood, his penis jutting uselessly between the flaps of his suit jacket.

Stella clapped her hands. They all had a mountain of work to be getting on with. It would be a busy afternoon.

“Right, you two. Thats enough lazing around. Lets get back to work.”


12


Bond. His name was Bond.

Not James. It was a joke hed cracked in happier times.

The names Bond, not James Bond.

He was 49 and had been Chief Executive of a major bank, one of the first to collapse in the turmoil of 2008. Yet despite his face having been on TV and in the newspapers, hed managed to survive quietly, hidden in a ruin in a remote part of the country for over three years.

But, eventually, the Stalitz Police found him.

And a few days later, The Brute Corporation acquired him.


He and three other similarly aged men stumbled as they dragged the plough through the dry packed earth, tilling the soil. Once upon a time, all four had sat in the same boardroom, titans of the financial world, raking in 8-figure bonuses and treating stock options like confetti, driven around by their chauffeurs and feted by industry analysts, treating their staff and customers as just so many numbers on a pad.

It had taken Stellas research team several weeks to locate the three others. She had happened to own one of them already but the other two had been purchased from their owners in order to reunite them with Bond.

So now the quartet toiled 16 hours a day performing backbreaking work more befitting of their reduced status. The afternoon sun hammered down on their shaved heads and naked backs. At midday, they had been introduced to their new driver, a female guard named Katja. She had delighted in telling them her life story. How she had been illegally smuggled into England from Eastern Europe back in 2004, when she was only 14. How she had been promised respectable work as a waitress and London streets paved with gold. How she had been raped by her pimp and then forced to turn kinky tricks for overweight, middle aged businessmen in pinstripe suits. How she had lost her hard earned pittance of savings when the banks went belly up in 2008. Not just any bank. But Bonds bank. And how she was now relishing the prospect of revenge.

She rode behind the plough in a cart, cracking a long riding whip in the air above their heads to encourage them. But in her pocket she carried something the men feared much more. It was a remote control, linked to the steel harnesses round their waists. One little push on the dial and current surged through the probe in their anuses and along the steel chastity tubes encasing their penises.


Bond puked up with exhaustion but nobody stopped for him, and he staggered on. He blinked his eyes trying to clear the salty sweat. The man in front, Curtis, who hed known since college, pissed into the earth as he pulled. Bond stepped barefoot through it. He knew that they had several more hours yet before sundown. And, just like yesterday, tomorrow would be the same.


But Bond had a secret. Something that kept him going. Something that stiffened his resolve every night as he lay in the filthy, stinking stable, trying to sleep. The gold. Hed managed to stash away some of his pay into gold bars in Switzerland before the 2008 Crash. Switzerlands mountains were the only place in the Western World the Pestilence hadnt reached and financial disaster hadnt struck. Switzerland was now the only sane country west of Pakistan.

But of course, as the only democratic haven left, it was impossible to get into. Unless you had gold.

It had taken him three years to negotiate three entry Visas. He had been due to start on the arduous journey by foot to Switzerland the day after he was arrested by the Stalitz. But his family had already left. They had all been travelling separately to attract less attention.

And that was what kept him going.

Maybe he would never get out of here. Maybe hed be a slave for life.

But his wife and daughter were free, breathing the clear mountain air.


13


Lara watched the slave called Kimberley picking at the dried shit stains with her fingernails. The brown streak had actually been baked hard onto the porcelain earlier with a blow heater. Lara always prepared one of two toilets beforehand for games like this.

“Moisten it.” She said. “Lick your finger and loosen the stain.”

She watched her hesitantly put her finger to her mouth and dribble saliva onto the tip. Then the girl dabbed at the two inches long smear.

Lara smiled. There was something about this one … shed have to do some research, find out who she was. She enjoyed the shy, silent types. And this one reminded her a bit of dear, departed Gemma. Heck, she even wore the same kind of spectacles.

“Harder. Rub harder, or maybe youd prefer to lick it off ?”

The girl began scratching frantically, gradually revealing white porcelain.

Lara watched benevolently.

After all, there was no rush.


14


Keith lay on his cot staring at the bars overhead. They were thick steel and there was a wooden walkway running above the centre of each cell. Obviously the guards could patrol overhead as well as along the passage. His cot was desperately uncomfortable. The springs were sharp and they dug through the thin plastic covered mattress. There were steel handcuffs hanging loose on chains that were connected to the four corners of his cot.

He heard footsteps. Booted feet, purposeful strides. A voice.

“Hello Keith, my old mate. Fancy meeting you again !”


15


Lara flicked through Kimberleys file.

She was perfect. A nice, religious girl whose 21st birthday was coming up in a couple of days. What a party they could have ! Kimberleys parents and brother could be invited. In fact, maybe all the members of their crazy anti-sex cult could attend ?

There were only sparse details on file but Lara would commission a full Stalitz police report on Kimberleys life to date. She liked to know who she was dealing with. The medical report from Doctor Thornes inspection confirmed that Kimberley was basically healthy, disease-free and, better still, a virgin. Lara stared at her convict photos; full face, profile, naked body shot. The girl was very cute indeed, much better than at first glance. She was staid, sexless, but the raw material was perfect. She had that classic sweep down from the sphere of her young breasts into her narrow waist and out again to her welcoming hips. 

Lara peered at the girls gaunt, wide-eyed expression behind the cheap spectacles, full lips turned down in a sad pout.

Perhaps the tits should be a C ? Or the tiny gap between her front teeth corrected ? There was not much that diet, drugs, exercise and the knife couldnt resolve nowadays.

Lara glanced through the other three files; dad and mom in their mid-forties, brother aged 22. The women were the better lookers of the family. Father and son appeared just as youd expect a couple of wacko, anti-sex campaigners to look.

Well boys, youll get your wish here, she chuckled. No sex for you, thats for sure.


16



Stella needed to relax, after an intensive afternoon of hard work.

With 20,000 slaves, 4,000 guards, 1,000 other staff and several hundred visitors a day to manage, it required planning and execution to make the place run smoothly. People thought this slave owning lark was easy !

She sat back in her chair smoking a cigarette, with her ankles over the arms, and watched Pauls head as he tongued her anal rim. She had trained him to perfection. Meanwhile, Demi stood behind the chair and massaged Stellas shoulders, soothing the knots of tension.

“I wonder how your husband is ?” Stella asked, out of the blue.

She heard the tsah sound of shock as Demis jaw dropped. Her husband was one of many deltas whose name had been replaced by a coded number. Although Demi had secretarial access to the main files, only Stella could open the protected database.

“Im sure hes having a gay old time.” Stella chuckled, exhaling a smoke ring that drifted into the air.

Demi laughed in reply. It was a forced snigger, but not bad acting.

Stella splayed her thighs even further, sliding her bum forward on the leather seat. Paul adjusted his face so he could continue his job.

She turned her head up and looked straight at Demi.

“He hasnt a clue youre pregnant. Whatll the twins be ? His stepkids ?”

Demis eyes betrayed her torment. But she spoke firmly.

“Yes Madam. Or maybe my existing children are the new fathers stepkids ?”

Stella shrugged, making a face. “You know, Im not sure. We have many such cases here, but Ive never thought about it before.”

She sighed, dropping a shoulder as Demi loosened a muscle.

“Tell me,” Stella continued, taking a deep drag, “joking aside. Would you really like to see him again ? Like this. Or would you rather he doesnt know ? And never see him again. Perhaps thats for the best ?”

She watched Demi bite her lovely lower lip.

“May I speak honestly, Madam ?”

“Of course.”

“I would love to see him again. Even once. And Im sure he would love to see me. Even like this.”

Stella smiled, pulling Pauls hair, passing the burning stub of her cigarette to him. “Go rinse your mouth.”

She watched his suited frame enter her bathroom and heard him drop the cigarette butt in the pedal bin. Then the sound of the running tap. She didnt like germs from her bottom being transmitted to her pussy.

Then she turned back to Demi. “Ill mull it over. Maybe Ill let him be present at the birth ? Thats only five months away.”

“Thank you so much Madam. That would be wonderful.”

“And by the way, your other kids are fine. I spoke to their mother the other day. She said your daughters periods have started and shes sprouting perky little tits. Your sons stopped asking about you and is doing better at school. So, dont worry.”

Demi screwed her eyes shut momentarily. “Thank you Madam.”

Stella watched Paul walk back. He was sporting a full erection. Shed be offended if he werent. But it merely swayed, ignored, disregarded.


He knelt between her legs and slowly placed his mouth to her labia, sliding the freshly minted tip of his tongue over her clit. She exhaled tobacco breath, wetting her lips.

“How long since you climaxed ?” she asked Demi.

“Eighteen and a half days Madam.”

Her personal slaves were required to keep an exact tally, to the nearest quarter day. She would often fire the question at them unexpectedly.

“And how long since you were mounted ?”

“Five afternoons ago, Madam. If you recall, you made me dial up three guards to do it on my desk at the end of your lunch.”

Stella looked blankly. “Did I ?” She shook her head. “Oh well. What did they do ?”

“One in each orifice Madam.”

Stella shut her eyes, relishing Pauls mouth. He knew just what she liked.

“That must be getting trickier now your bellys growing.”

“Yes Madam.”

“And youre sure I was there ?”

“Yes Madam. You watched the whole thing, finishing your coffee. It took about ten minutes.”

Stella sighed. “Nope.” She shook her head. “Still, its not important. Mmm … come and kiss my boobs.”

Stellas shoulders were bare but she was wearing a black lace bra. Demi knelt and unclasped the front loader, gently pulling the cups away. She kissed Stellas hard nipples, flicking her tongue over them. Pauls tongue accelerated, slobbering to and fro as Stellas juices ran.

“Make me cum !” she barked suddenly. Her mood had changed to need now, impatient hunger. And she wanted to have a bath before dinner.

They double-teamed her skilfully, with no thought for themselves. Their sole reward would be an appeased Mistress. And maybe another 24 hours working in her office. That was all they could hope for.

Stella let herself rip, eyes rolling, mouth agape, toes curling.



17



Rob hung at the back.

Brutus greeted them all as if it was just a typical cocktail party.

“Ah, nice to see you all again.”

He watched Naomi, Amber and Tony shake Brutuss hand. He reluctantly held out his own and Brutus squeezed it warmly.

“Drink ?”

A male servant was holding out a tray with clear plastic glasses on it.

The liquid inside was a murky golden-green, with particles floating, and froth on top.

Brutus smiled, making it clear they must take one each.

“Asparagus cocktail. Mixed with my own fair hand, so to speak. Enjoy !”

There were five seats in a row. He gestured at them.

“Take a seat.”

Since the barbecue, Rob had been locked alone in a tiny, windowless cell. He hadnt spoken to Amber or anybody else, except a surly guard. As far as he could tell, theyd all been kept apart purposely, waiting in dread. Hed had nothing to think about but the dreadful events of the day and his utter hatred for the revolting oaf now grinning at them all.

They sat down on the hard-backed chairs. In a row. Brutus took the middle seat, with Naomi and Tony to his right. Rob and Amber were to his left. Brutus had showered, shaved and was dressed in an open-necked white shirt and an expensively tailored suit that disguised his gut. A blast of aftershave hung about him and his receding hair was pomaded and brushed back. He looked a bit like the Godfather.

Rob and the others were still naked and unwashed. As they sat down, Robs nostrils detected the scent of Ambers perspiration and rancid sex. The chastity tube pinched uncomfortably between his thighs.

“I thought youd enjoy this pre-dinner entertainment.” Brutus said.

The room was like a country house living room, with rich fabrics, old rugs, expensive antiques, chandeliers and art. The five chairs were facing an empty square of wooden floor without any furnishings.

Two male guards walked in from a side door, leading a woman. Rob stared. She was quite similar to Amber, but with red hair, and smaller breasts. She too was naked except for what appeared to be a sort of cloak on her back.

“Okay.” Brutus said, sipping his drink. It looked like a whisky with ice. He indicated that whatever was going to happen should begin.

The woman turned and bowed at them. Close up, Rob could see the freckles on her face and scratches on her body. He felt sorry for her. Her breasts were bruised and her mound was totally hairless.

Rob watched her turn side-on to them and slowly crouch down on hands and knees.

There was a slight commotion and then another guard led in a big, grey haired dog. He was no expert but he thought it was an Irish Wolfhound.

Brutus leaned his arm along the line, nudging Rob and Amber on the shoulders, joking.

“Youll like this. You said you would, anyway. You perve !”

The woman didnt move. The guard walked the big hairy dog round the side of her until it was facing the audience. It seemed to smile, a trickle of slobber hanging from its mouth. It had to be over three feet tall and probably weighed over 150 lbs.

The woman silently shifted her head under the dogs back legs.

“Shes not very good at giving head yet.” Brutus said. “But its only been a few days. Practise makes perfect, huh ? Drink up everybody.”

Rob sensed Amber shaking next to him. But he couldnt tear his eyes from the freak show. The womans head was moving. She was sucking the dog. He simply couldnt believe what he was seeing. The dog barked but stayed motionless. Slowly Rob lifted his glass to his mouth. He gagged at the stench. The greenish fluid was lukewarm, sharp.

“Hes well trained isnt he ?” Brutus called out, this time towards Naomi and Tony. “He loves his girly friends. Dont you, Luath ?”

After a couple of minutes, the two guards pulled Luath away, and then round behind the woman. She turned 90 degrees to face Brutus, looking up at him directly. Without delay, the guards helped the Irish Wolfhound mount her protected back.

Rob couldnt help staring at the womans eyes. He could see angst and suffering and turmoil. But also broken spirit. She didnt resist.

He dug his fingernails into his palms. He was finding it so difficult not to jump up and punch fucking Brutus on the nose. Even though he knew he would be signing his own death warrant, at best. The utterly sick-making clips from the training video showed that endless torture would be his more likely fate. Any form of resistance would be brutally punished.

But it still took every ounce of willpower he possessed to control his instincts. It was only the terrible threats in the video of what would happen to Amber that kept the bulging vein in his neck from bursting.

The dog surged forward and her green eyes bulged, wincing with pain.

Brutus leaned forward, tickling under her chin with his finger.

“Thats it dear. Now what do you say ?”

“Th .. thank you, Sir.” She grunted as the dog began maniacally thrusting.

Brutus turned to Amber. “Im afraid dogs dont do foreplay. Not once theyre in. Fascinating isnt it ? Ask her a question.”

Rob heard his wife gulp.

“H … how is it ?”

The womans eyes flickered towards Amber. She hesitated.

“The truth.” Brutus barked. “Educate her.”

The dogs spine was bending powerfully, driving to and fro. It weighed considerably more than her and she visibly had to brace herself and push up against him.

“Its my f … fourth time. The b … iggest dog so far. It h … hurts.”

“Naomi ? Question.” Brutus prompted.

“Er … does it feel good at all ?”

The blue eyes rolled in the womans skull. Rob watched her turn her face towards Naomi. She glanced up nervously at Brutus.

“N … not really. Its ob … scene.”

Brutus slapped his thigh laughing. “I love it. Tell them, my dear. Where were you sat just a couple of days ago ?”

She grimaced at a particularly hard thrust. Rob knew very little about dog sex but hed heard something about a knot. It swelled up inside. He forced himself to have another sip from his glass.

“I w … was … s … sat up where theyre s … sitting now.”

Brutus smiled, turning to Naomi and Amber in turn.

“There we are dears. My secrets out. Within a day or two, one of you will be down on the floor here, being watched by your successor ! And a short while later, one of your successors will be watched by her successor. And so on. The circle of life here ! But which of you two will it be ?”

Rob felt his wife freeze. Her lip trembled.

Brutus turned to both women, sliding his empty hand down between Ambers sullied thighs. He winked along at Rob.

“Dont worry. Shes got a fifty, fifty chance.”

Moments later, the Irish Wolfhound somehow accelerated, lunging forward even faster, all but knocking the woman over. He was evidently in ecstasy of some form. A slick of drool hung down from his mouth onto the womans shoulder. The male guards moved closer to ensure that nothing went wrong. The woman finally started sobbing.

Brutus tongue-kissed Amber, whilst looking over her shoulder straight at Rob.

“Shows over guys. Therell be knotted together a while. Lets replenish those drinks and get you something to wear for dinner.”


18


Keith felt sick.

His name was Dan. Hed been at college with Keith and he certainly wasnt an old mate. In fact, Keith had barely spoken to him. There had been a big class divide in all senses of the word. They studied different subjects. But Dan was the kind of low class troublemaker who got up everybodys nose eventually. He despised Keith and his privileged crowd.

“Stand.” Dan instructed the five men, now all motionless in a line outside their cell doors. “Hands on heads.”

Dan walked the line, past 825, 826, 827 and stopped facing Keith. He let his gaze wander down to Keiths feet, up his legs, waist, chest, face.

“Get down and give me fifty push ups.”

Keith had never felt so humiliated in his life. He crouched onto his knees and began doing press ups. Dan and the other four slaves simply watched him in silence. He did the first 35 pretty well.

“Come on. Chest down almost to the ground.”

He was flagging, arms turning to jelly, gasping. He reached forty.

“Ten more, faggot.”

At 46 push ups, Keith collapsed to the floor. He heard Dan addressing the others.

“My name is Dan. I may be new here, but Im not to be fucking trifled with. You lot are my first group of inductees. And were going to set new records for productivity. I can be really quite a nice guy.”

He paused. Keith felt Dans heavy boot pushing on his back. “Or nasty.”


19


“Did you enjoy my husbands semen ?”

Amber did a double take. That the woman called Stella had actually asked her such a question. She just didnt know how to reply.

They were sat at a dining table; candlelight, silver, shimmering glasses. There were eight people. Stella was at one end and Brutus the other. In the middle seats facing each other sat an striking younger woman introduced as Lara and an older, grey-haired lady called Doctor Thorne.

The four slaves were placed between them. Amber was sat next to Stella and opposite Tony.

“Umm …”

“It was a big load, wasnt it ? I bet hell have taken a Mop.”

“Yes, Mistress. It was.”

Stella smiled. “Youll get used to them. Did you used to enjoy blowing your husband ?” Stella jerked her head at Rob. Amber glanced at her husband who looked uncomfortable, in conversation with the lady doctor.

“Sometimes … you know, kind of.”

“Sometimes ? Kind of ? That doesnt sound a ringing endorsement to me. Oh well. Now, it doesnt matter what you enjoy, does it ?”

Amber shook. “No, Mistress.” She felt so intimidated. The woman was around 40 she guessed, well preserved and wearing a beautiful dress, draped in jewellery. Amber was dressed in a simple, sackcloth shift.

“And what about you ?” Stella said, bringing Tony into the conversation, who had been sat silently listening. “Did you sample Ambers cunt ?”

“Er … yes, Mistress, I did. Briefly.”

“She stinks a little. I trust thats not your cum inside her ?”

“No, Mistress. Er … a guard.” He replied, glancing shyly at Amber. She felt a weird pang of compassion for him, even though she was disgusted hed been inside her. After all, hed had no choice. Based on what shed seen in that terrible video, none of them had any choice.

“Thats a relief.” Stella said to him. “And did another guard fuck whats her name, Naomi ?”

“Yes.” His face hardened. “Yes, one did.”

Stella wiped her mouth with a napkin. The four Owners were eating fillet steaks, while the four slaves spooned chunks of rubbery offal into their mouths. It was a glistening stew like pet food with gelatinous gravy and the cheapest innards from the compound abattoir. Amber gagged every time she forced a mouthful down her throat.

“Dont ever look at me insolently like that again !”

Tony shrank in his seat. “Im sorry, Mistress.”

She smiled, patting Amber on the wrist. “Dont worry, dear. My bark is worse than my bite. Now, eat up.” Then turned back to Tony. “It sounds as if my husband is following his usual routine. Now, how many men had your wife fucked before you ?”

Amber watched him dry swallow, composing his features. “Er … one.”

“Just one boyfriend before you ?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And what about you, Amber ? How many boys did you fuck before you married Robbie ?”

She hesitated. Then told the truth. “Three, Mistress.”

Stella sighed. “Dear me. The youth of today ! Not enough fucking is what I say. You must be looking forward to catching up, huh ?”

Amber frowned, not immediately following what she meant. Stellas manner was disconcerting. On the one hand she had this striking face with high cheekbones, full red lips and a very business like manner. But in a flash, those same lips could curl into in a cruel sneer and her language would switch to downright crude and sadistic. 

“Oh yes.” Stella nodded across at Brutus. “Hell have your numbers right up in a day or two. We have young girls like you who do fifty men on their second day here. The female cunt is a marvellously adaptive machine, my dear. But it needs oiling to be truly efficacious.”


20


Dan fastened Keiths wrists and ankles to the corners of his cot.

“Did you enjoy supper ?” he smirked, pushing up off Keiths chest.

Keith made a face. “No.”

Dan stood, unzipped the fly of his uniform, and stood by Keiths bucket.

“You sure you dont need to use this ?”

Keith nodded. He wasnt sure at all. But he couldnt bring himself to pee or shit in front of somebody else. And certainly not Dan.

The steel rattled and liquid sloshed as Dan pissed.

“So, I looked up your records. Mum and sis in here too, eh ?”

Keith watched Dans back as his hand shook off the drips.

“Yes.”

Dan sighed, turning. “The names Sir to you.”

“Yes … Sir.”

“And whos this little Tara bitch ?”

“My fiancé, Sir.”

Dan looked at his watch meaningfully. “You know I get off in half an hour and the night shift takes over. Im going over for a nightcap at the guards bar in the female blocks. Ill keep an eye out for Tara. You got any message for her if I see her ?”

Keith screwed his eyes shut and blinked back tears. He couldnt bear to let this guy see him cry.

“No. Thats okay … Sir.”

Dan smirked, lifting the steel pail and placing it on the concrete floor next to Keiths head. “In case you feel sick during the night. That supper you ate didnt look too healthy.”

Keith watched Dan standing over the bed, scratching his balls. He looked so evil and repulsive.

“Nighty-night.” Dan chuckled. “But if you think today was bad, I can promise you, tomorrows gonna be a whole lot worse.”



END OF PART TWO


COMING SOON PART THREE

FROM BAD TO WORSE


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