Author: Dr. Gamble
Title: All In A Day's Work
Summary: The first of the stories in this series
is about a young runaway who is sold into slavery.
White slavery is always a titillating perversion
and is common to most of the stories. This story
is the basis of all of the stories in the series,
it relates to some more than others, and deals
with the decisions many of us face when forced to
prostitute our minds and bodies in order to
survive. The narrator is taken to an island in the
Carribean where a depraved doctor enlists her in
his laboratory projects. It starts somewhat slowly
but soon enough the runaway becomes the victim of
intense rape, bondage, and several other
unpleasant indignities.
Keywords: M+f nc rape Mdom bd fist violent tort
lac f-1st slow

ALL IN A DAY'S WORK

This story is of an adults only nature, please do not
continue reading if you are not of age to do so.  This
story is a part of a collection of related fantasies
which deal with rape and violent torture of a
non-consenting nature.  The content of these stories is
entirely based on fantasy and not to be confused with
reality or construed as an endorsement of the
activities depicted.  While some of these stories
contain characters who are subjected to various
situations including slavery, abuse, and an assortment
of other unspeakable acts against nature, remember that
both the victims and perpetrators are characters and
not real people.

PROLOGUE

This is a story of management and labor.  Each of us
who works for a living, which includes most everyone,
has our own assigned duties and tasks which each of us
are expected to fulfill.  Some of us perform management
functions such as keeping the business operating or
providing for one's employees.  Some of us produce
tangible products and some others perform marketable
services.  We know that the goods and services we
provide our customers is what creates the resources
from which compensation is made for the products we
produce and the work we do.

Each day our workplace is filled with a variety of
circumstances, mostly routine in nature, but we are
also sometimes treated with an occasional small victory
and, of course, generally suffer our share of daily
workplace abuses.  This is a story of some of those
kinds of workday assignments, expectations, methods,
humiliations, successes and failures.  Each of us is
expected to do a full day's work for a full day's pay. 
Some of us are expected to do a little more for a
little less.

EPISODE 1

It had already grown dark as the lumbering Greyhound
finally exited off the interstate expressway onto the
rain slick city streets.  The cold downpour had just
stopped and the neon signs of the metropolis gleamed in
the cloudy night sky, brightly reflecting off the fresh
glistening pavement.  There, halfway back in the bus I
sat staring out the window, vacantly observing this
glittered world pass by.  I was a pretty nineteen year
old, five foot one, around a hundred pounds or so with
a pale delicate complexion and long sheer dark blonde
hair, simply clothed in a denim jacket, pale soft
blouse, jeans and sneakers, ready to take on the world.

After a last few lurching corners, the ponderous
behemoth finally rolled to a halt in front of a
brightly lit but weary terminal, discharging its
several passengers.  I guess I must have been among the
last to leave my seat since, unlike my accompanying
travelers, I wasn't in any particular hurry to go
anywhere. Plainly tired and alone, I claimed my
suitcase and dragged it into the garishly lit depot
where I found a place to sit on a bench in front of the
closed ticket counter.  While that brightly lit waiting
room might have been anything but comfortable it was at
least an admitted safe island in the disturbingly
unfamiliar neighborhood I now found myself in that
night.

Strangely, more than anything else at that moment, I
felt truly relieved.  I had finally carried out my
longstanding dream to be in a place far, far away from
my previous dull, boring and suffocating existence and
now at last the adventure of my carefully devised
escape was complete.  With ample opportunity to
consider just what exactly I was going to do next I sat
there in that waiting room, resting from the excitement
of my journey and allowing my mind to wander, pondering
each of several available options for my new future.

Money was not going to be a problem.  Securely packed
in my suitcase was a considerable amount of cash, large
bills which I had slowly and surreptitiously
accumulated from that attorney who had been my
step-father.  He had, after all, only married my late
mother for her fortune.  Then it seemed that once he
had secured her wealth, he launched his systematic
crusade to make his new step-daughter's life as
miserable as possible.  He refused to allow me to date. 
He even refused to allow me to make friends.  While I
had planned on going to a nearby university in the fall
and starting in a pre-med program, he instead decided
to keep me strictly confined to his dreary house until
he could find somewhere unpleasant to send me away to. 
Now I undoubtedly figured that he would never be
looking for me, since without me around to foul his
plans he would be able to claim the balance of my
deceased mother's estate free and clear.

Sitting there, preoccupied as I went about
contemplating my future, I eventually gazed up to find
that in spite of my exhausted appearance, my youth and
gender had apparently gained the attention of several
of the station's more undesirable inhabitants.  It
occurred to me at that point that being in a large
city's bus station in the middle of the night was
really a potentially dangerous situation for me and it
might be in my best interest to make myself less
conspicuous.  Coupled with the added realization that I
would be necessarily confined to this place at least
until daybreak, I picked up my bag and moved to an
unoccupied bench in the corner.

I put my glasses on and placed the suitcase in front of
me as a fortification against the approach of any of
the stranger nocturnal people roaming the terminal.  I
didn't wear my glasses all the time, in fact I hated
them and had always wanted to get contacts, but my step
father would never let me.  That was the first thing I
was going to change, although right now it seemed as if
my plain old prudish looking glasses were my best
friend.

After a few minutes a middle-aged woman appeared from
across the room and sat on the other end of the bench
with me.  I hadn't seen her before and assumed she must
have gotten off a different bus, but anyway it didn't
bother me and I felt content to share my sanctuary with
her.  I guess that was because she looked somehow to be
a respectable and gentle person and I surmised that
with the two of us sharing the bench it would be far
less likely that any of the undesirables would bother
either of us.

Then, feeling the predicament of my immediate safety
resolved, I allowed my mind to drift back to my greater
problem of just what it was that I was going to do
next.  I had to first find a place to live but I was
one solitary soul in this big city who had no one to
talk with, no one to confide in, and no one who gave a
damn whether I lived or died.  I indeed felt very much
alone.

After a short time I began to take closer notice of my
companion.  The woman appeared to be a well-worn
matronly aunt, like the kind I never had, and also
seemed correspondingly approachable.  She wore a long
brown cloth coat and was carrying a small bag.  As she
sat watching the other people in the terminal it was
evident that she was not new to this place nor unlike
myself, she didn't seem at to be particularly
threatened by it.

I guess I had not escaped the woman's notice either and
after a few minutes I could feel myself receiving her
full attention.  She finally leaned over to me and said
with a voice of soft concern, "What's the matter dear,
all alone?"  Without looking up I slowly shook my head
yes.

The woman moved a little closer to me on the bench, "I
understand, I've been known to run away from things a
few times myself."

Feeling a sensation of relief pouring over me, I looked
up in the hope that I had perhaps found someone to
confide in here, in this strange place, who might
honestly understand my situation.  "Really?"

The woman soothingly answered, taking more interest in
my isolated predicament, "Of course.  You got somewhere
to go dear?"

I softly responded, "No."  But at that moment I really
felt as if I needed to talk to this kind woman and tell
her everything:  why I had left my boring life, how I
hoped and planned to find something better in this
city, how I never wanted to go back, how hopeless I
felt, how vulnerable I felt, and how very much alone I
felt right at that moment.

Before I had a chance to speak the woman continued,
"Well my sister is coming for me.  Why don't you just
come along and stay with us.  I won't tell anybody
where you are and I've got a nice warm bed and some
good food just waitin' for you at my house.  You know,
'till you get things figured out."

While a promise of security and a warm bed sounded
wonderful after my grueling bus ride, I hesitated to
answer at first.  The offer was exactly what I wanted
but I didn't know this person and who could tell what
might happen.  But then, I thought, who knows what's
going to happen to me here, alone in this bus station? 
And tomorrow, Friday, alone in this city?  Before much
more consideration I heard myself saying, "Well. 
Okay."

The woman stood, looked across the room and waved,
"Hey, there she is!"

The other woman approached the bench.  She was somewhat
older, wearing baggy jeans, perhaps a little more
toughened by her inner city life.  She gave a friendly
smile to the first woman as she neared.  "Ready to go?"

The first woman replied, "I have found a new friend. 
She is going to stay with us for a few days."  She
turned to me, still sitting on the bench, "Right dear?"

Looking up at these two sisters I suddenly felt as if I
was no longer sure I wanted to inconvenience their
lives, but I shyly answered, "Okay."  I then reached
down and picked up my suitcase and followed the two of
them out of the terminal to a small car parked in the
station parking lot.  I recall the conversation of the
two women, reassuring me that I must now be safe and in
the company of sincere people and far safer than I had
been sitting alone in that dismal bus terminal.  The
second woman opened the trunk of the car and I lifted
my suitcase into it along with the first woman's bag.

As the second woman got behind the wheel of the small
car, the first woman suggested, "Now dear, you sit up
front, I'll just sit back here."

I protested, "No.  You must...."

However, the first woman would hear none of my plea and
promptly climbed into the backseat so I surrendered my
argument and made myself comfortable in the front.  We
drove out of the bus terminal and into what seemed to
be a labyrinth of city streets.  The closeness of the
little car combined with the women's conversation
continued lulling me into a feeling of security and
that everything about my irreversible decision to leave
home and strike out on my own would turn out for the
best.  Eventually this optimistic feeling and the
droning of the car's engine caused my weariness to
overtake me and I began to doze.  I was too tired to
notice that we were now driving through what was really
a rather foreboding warehouse district.

The car turned a corner, driving past a large black
limousine, when the second woman suddenly pulled over
toward the side of the street near one of the
warehouses and abruptly came to a halt.  I awakened and
looked up at both of them, trying to understand what
was happening, when the first woman reached forward and
opened the front passenger door.  Without a word the
second woman swiftly shoved me out into the street.

Rolling out onto the wet pavement I lost my glasses and
I landed hard enough to tear my jacket.  Quickly
scrambling to my feet I had just begun searching for my
glasses when the woman from the back seat grabbed me,
twisted my arm behind my back and placed her hand over
my mouth.  Now even more defenseless than when I was at
the bus station, not knowing where I was, not knowing
where to retreat for help, I looked around at the
looming, dark buildings around me thinking that perhaps
I could find an open door or maybe a passageway that I
could escape to.

Then as I turned, still struggling in the grip of the
surprisingly strong woman, the limousine started up
behind me, freezing me in its headlights.  Feeling a
sudden rush of terror, I felt paralyzed as it
approached and stopped in front of us.

Immediately two big men sprang from the car. 
Approaching the woman who had been driving, the first
of them asked, "Whatcha got?"

"A little whore.  She's been a very bad, bad, girl,"
was her reply.  At first I didn't know what she meant. 
I wasn't a whore.  She was calling me a prostitute.  "A
thousand bucks," she continued, "like you agreed on the
phone."

"Shit," the man replied, "she sure is dressed funny for
a hooker.  She looks more like she came from high
school somewhere."

"She came from Texas,"  the woman answered.  "She's a
disposable."  I couldn't figure out how she knew where
I was from.  I had never told her.  And at the time I
had no idea what she meant by disposable.

"You better be sure," the man said looking me over. 
"The boss don't want any more of your damn runaways. 
They're too damn hot with everybody looking for them. 
It ain't good for business."

The woman, now clearly becoming irritated, responded,
"Hey, I know what you guys want.  Believe me.  This is
what you guys want.  And I want my thousand bucks like
you promised."

"I'll give ya two hundred and the balance after we're
sure there ain't no strings attached."

"Shit!"  She paused.  "Okay, four hundred, no
questions."

"Deal."  He pulled a money clip from his pocket and
peeled off four crisp bills, handing them to the woman. 
Meanwhile I just stood there in astonishment, watching
all this happen while it slowly sank in that the woman
whom I had befriended had just sold me for four hundred
dollars.

Immediately the other man took me from the woman who
was holding me, grabbing me around the waist and
placing his rough hand over my mouth.  While I
struggled, he had no real difficulty in dragging my
small figure back into the waiting limousine.

I was rudely thrown on the floor of the car.  Face down
I was unable to see anything in its dark interior.  The
other man soon joined the rest of us and with the one
holding me firmly and immobile, the car accelerated as
it began to thread its way through the narrow streets.

Now there was another set of hands on me, tugging at my
jeans.  I struggled against this intrusive violation to
my being while at the same time feeling my jeans and
panties being pulled down far enough to expose my
derriere.  The sensation of the cool waft of air on my
skin was quickly interrupted by the unexpected sting of
a needle driving into my now exposed cheek.  I had just
enough time to shriek in response when the needle was
already emptied and quickly extracted.  I felt my
clothing being pulled back up, generally covering my
modesty, and the second set of hands left me.  Very
soon I began to feel really dizzy, my senses draining
away while I gradually drifted into a state of
unconsciousness from their injection.

EPISODE 2

The metallic noise of a key in the door partially
aroused me from my drug induced sleep.  I found myself
lying on the floor in the corner of a small cell and
can still remember the coolness of the cement slab
which extended a comforting feeling of relief to my
sluggishly confused head.  I looked up at the unbroken
cement block walls, trying to see just what sort of
place this was that I was in.  The one tiny window in
the door seemed to be the sole source of light in the
room and the only furniture I could make out with my
clouded vision was a small bench against the wall
opposite the reinforced metal door.
 
The door swung open and a man appeared, framed in the
bright light of the hallway.  He was thirtyish, tall,
large build, athletic, and was wearing a plain blue
jumpsuit.  His hair was short and he was clean shaven
but added to his rough complexion was a scar that began
near his ear and followed all the way down to his chin.
He carried a clipboard and a large knife in a sheath on
his belt.  Reaching around the doorway, he turned on a
light switch, illuminating the single bare bulb hanging
from the ceiling, further blinding my blurry eyes with
its glare.

Peering through the thin slits of my eyes I could see
him walking over to me, still curled up in the corner. 
Reaching down, he shook me by the shoulder, "Okay
sleeping beauty.  Gotta get you processed."

Still feeling only half awakened from my groggy sleep,
I squinted up at the sinister man towering above me
while I slowly stumbled to my feet.  I couldn't
remember what had happened to my jacket and soon
discovered that my earrings, my school ring, my watch
and the necklace I had been wearing were also gone. 
Then noticing that my hair was a mess I began to try to
straighten it out it, doing my best to try to put
myself together.  Meanwhile the man continued to read
his clipboard and after a while he looked up and gave
me a once over glance.  "Shit, I guess you are the
delicate little blonde beauty they advertised aren't
ya?"

His question not making any sense to me and still
trying to comprehend my new found environment I quietly
entreated, "Where am I?  What do you want?"

"Shut up!"  His large hand instantly struck me across
the face.  He didn't really hit me that hard but the
combination of the force of his stinging blow and my
lingering dizziness knocked me back to the floor.

Standing over me, he bellowed, "Remember what I'm
tellin' you cutie-face, there is one single rule for
you in this hole:  don't talk, period."  It was an
edict which I would not be permitted to forget.

His hand grabbed me by the collar of my blouse and I
was yanked back to my feet.  Quietly standing in front
of him, still reeling from his blow, I was now intently
watching his every move while he continued to silently
glare at me for some time.  Finally the man turned and
stepping over to the bench, sat down.  Slowly and
deliberately he pulled the large knife out of the
sheath on his belt and laid it on the bench next to him
and then from his clipboard he removed a one inch white
plastic strap which he placed next to the knife. 
Taking a pen from his pocket he began to work on the
form attached to his clipboard and without looking up
said, "Okay, lets get to work.  Take off the shirt and
pants."

Still dazed, I remember looking at the man briefly and
then mechanically unbuttoning my blouse, removing it,
and discarding it on the floor.  Similarly, I proceeded
to unconsciously remove my new sneakers.  With my state
of disorientation just beginning to wear off I
hesitated for a moment, scrutinizing this male in front
of me, seeking to comprehend some sort of rationale for
his apparently illogical commands.

The break in my activity must have gained his attention
and he stared back, adding in a threatening monotone,
"Keep going.  Pants and socks."

Now becoming more self-conscious of my circumstances, I
began to whimper, softly protesting the unfolding
humiliation of undressing in front of this menacing
stranger and sensing that I was likely to soon become
the victim of more than just humiliation.  But between
my unsteadiness, the memory of his hand on my cheek,
and the large knife on the bench still glinting in the
harsh light, I continued by surrendering my jeans and
sliding the white stockings off my feet.

Then standing only in my modest bra and soft white
panties, I stopped.  I just couldn't go any further. 
Too embarrassed to look up I stood there facing him, my
knees together and my long hair draping down in my
face.

After what was a very short pause he roared, "So, what
the hell are you waiting for?"

Fully understanding the reality of what was happening
to me and alarmed at the carnal offenses to my person
which I was likely to very soon physically experience,
my feeling of uneasiness had rapidly changed into one
of nauseous fear.  I looked up at him and pleaded,
"Please.  Why are you doing this to me?  I didn't do
anything."

Rising to his feet he stormed, "Who told you to talk! 
Just shut up and drop that bra."

Now begging, I cried in response, "No.  Please.  Don't. 
Don't make me..."

He stepped across the room and towering over me
bellowed, "Do it, bitch!"  Again his hand struck me
across the face.  The force of his blow, much more
intense than the first, threw me off balance and I
slammed against the cement wall and then slowly sank to
the floor.

"Get up."  His large hand wrapped around my arm,
lifting me back to my feet.  "Now, drop the bra."

I stared at him, too frightened to cry, hoping that he
would somehow relent, but his menacing face convinced
me that obeying his command was really my only option. 
Slowly, I turned my back to him, unhooked the strap,
and resigned it to the floor.

"Turn around.  Lets see those tits."  He seized my
shoulder and I was abruptly spun around, my back
against the cold, damp wall.  "Hmmm.  Not much.  So
what the hell's all the fuss about, huh cutie?  Okay,
lose the pants."

By now alert and fully aware of my exposed and
defenseless situation, I kept thinking that all of this
just couldn't possibly be happening.  It seemed like
some kind of horrible movie or maybe a very realistic
nightmare.  Hoping against hope that this was all just
a bad dream and that I would soon awaken, I stood there
frozen with disbelief, slowly shaking my head at him,
silently mouthing the word, "No."

"Come on bitch, enough with the innocent shit.  We all
know what you are."  He turned and picked up the knife
from the bench.  "Do it now.  I haven't got all night." 
He stepped over to me, towering over my small frame.  I
stiffened from the sudden feeling of the cold steel
knife blade laying against my exposed right breast. 
"You want me to cut off your little tits?"  He lifted
the knife up and pressed the flat steel against my
cheek.  "Maybe you want me to cut up your pretty little
face."  I remained frozen and speechless, feeling his
heavy breath on my semi-naked body.

"Shit!  I hate these power games."  Without taking his
eyes off my face, I felt him deftly lay the chilling
flat blade of the knife, first on my right hip and then
on my left as he skillfully slit my dainty briefs. 
Then his hand grabbed at my crotch and he jerked the
now torn intimate garment through my tightly held
together inner thighs.

I didn't dare move a muscle and stood there frozen
while he reached up to pull the hairband out of my
hair.  "Well you won't be needing this anymore either,"
he stated as he threw it onto the pile of my clothes on
the floor.

Slowly, he stepped back to examine his victim.  I
remained against the wall, pigeon toed, immobilized
with terror, my long silky hair partly covering my
erect nipples.  Giving me his once over inspection he
concluded, "Well, it looks like the carpet matches the
drapes.  Now isn't that just precious."

He then picked up the plastic strap and wrapped it
somewhat tightly around my neck creating a collar.  The
plastic thing wasn't particularly comfortable and once
it was clipped in place there was no way it could be
taken off.  The real purpose of the strap was the
series of letters and numbers printed on it which
became my identification code.

"Come on," he said, his hand gripping my arm and
pulling me after him.  He dragged me from the room into
a hallway painted white and brightly lit by a row of
fluorescent fixtures, lined with several heavy doors,
each with small windows like in the room we had just
left.  Proceeding to an intersection occupied by what
appeared to be a long security counter, he yanked me to
the left and led me through a swinging double door
marked "B-Wing".  This hall resembled the first but
with fewer, though similar doors.  He stopped and I
found myself standing in front of one of them.  He then
took a key from the ring on his belt, opened the door
and I was pushed in.

It was dark, but before the door clanged shut I could
make out several naked female forms lying on mats about
the room.  I heard his footsteps walking away when a
female voice sarcastically addressed me, "Hi honey,
make yerself comfortable."

I peered into the darkness trying to make out who was
talking to me, "Where am I?"

The female voice replied, "New here?  Shit honey, you'd
be better off not knowing."

With my eyes beginning to adjust some to the darkness,
I could now see that I was in a cell, somewhat larger
than the one I had left.  Arranged on the floor were
six mats lined against the walls, three on each side. 
I could distinguish the bodies of naked women all about
my age curled up on five of them, the sixth, near the
door, was empty.  I moved to the empty one and sat
down.

The woman who had responded to me earlier was sitting
on the mat in front of me across the cell but unlike
the rest of the women who wore white plastic
identification collars similar to my own, her's was
like a dog collar, black leather with a large silver
ring hanging off the front.  She appeared young and
pretty but looked very, very tired.  She also had
numerous bruises around her wrists and ankles which I
couldn't help noticing.  Reacting to my attention to
these obvious injuries she added, "Men are pigs."

Deciding to change the subject I again began to
inquire, "But, where is this...."

I was abruptly interrupted by the sound of approaching
male voices outside the door.  "Chief says we gotta
have a milker on line for tomorrow.  Whatcha got?"

The other male voice was recognizable as belonging to
the man who had earlier stripped me, "When the hell do
they decide these things?  First they export all the
milkers from the island, then they tell me I can't
process any today 'cause A-Wing is still down, they
send me this little bitch of a girl that I haven't a
clue what to do with unless some Arab shows up looking
for boys, and now you're tellin' me they want a milker
for tomorrow."

"Hey, don't kill me.  I'm just the messenger, ya know."

"Shit!"

"So you did get a delivery today."

"Yeah, some skinny little bitch, but I don't what the
hell to do with her."

"So you put it in here with the exports?"

"Yeah?  Know any Arabs lookin' for meat?"

"Figure it out.  That's probably the one they want sent
over to A-Wing.  It is a girl ain't it.  Besides, ya
got nothing to lose.  I'll get the place straightened
up early.  It hasn't been fed so we could get it up and
producing by morning if you do its shots now."

"Guess I don't have any choice.  Everything else around
here's being shipped out."

I shivered in panic from the sound of keys in the door. 
From their conversation I didn't have any idea about
what they were talking about but I fully realized just
who "the girl" was that these men were after.  Cowering
against the wall of the cell I watched the door open
and a shaft of light from the hallway slice into the
chamber.  Both men entered.

Compared to his companion, the other man seemed like a
giant.  A little older, he was much, much larger, at
least seven feet tall and considerably heavier, at
least 300 pounds.  He had several tattoos on his arms,
long balding hair and a scraggly gray beard and
mustache which didn't do much to hide his frighteningly
ugly smile.  He was wearing baggy Bermuda shorts and
one of those decorative Spanish style shirts, open in
the front exposing a grossly hairy gut obscenely
hanging over his belt.  With his menacing figure easily
filling the doorway to the cell, he stood there
scanning among us for his prey, "Which one is it?"

The first man stepped over to me.  "Come'on bitch." 
His forceful hand again easily wrapped around on my arm
as he hoisted me to my feet.  "Let's go."

The large man, standing by the door, laughed while
scrutinizing my thin naked form, "You're going to use
that one?  Shit, those tits are littler than mine! 
Better give'em a double dose."

"Yeah, right," he replied as he dragged me back out
into the corridor.  He continued to pull me down the
hall toward the same doors we had entered earlier. 
Defenseless and paralyzed with apprehension I tried to
keep up, stumbling my way behind him.

The captive I had tried to talk with earlier called
after me, "Don't let 'em get to ya, honey."

I turned to see the large man, still standing in the
open door to the cell shout, "Who the fuck talked!?" 
Seemingly answering his own question he reached into
the cell and pulled out the young woman by one arm,
yanking her to her feet.  I watched in horror as he
effortlessly continued to raise her until her feet were
off the floor and then yelled into her face, "You know
the rule, cunt.  No talking, period!"  He reached for a
small cylinder device tied to his waist and quickly
ramming it between her thighs he energized it, sending
an intense electric jolt into her.  She responded with
a piercing shriek.  He reciprocated by jamming it
deeper into her torso and fully powered it again while
shouting at her to "shut the fuck up."  This time she
slumped and shuddered into unconsciousness.  Removing
his electric prod he dropped her into a heap on the
floor.

As my captor led me out of the hallway all I could see
was the deranged giant kicking her limp body back into
the cell and then slamming the steel door shut.  The
man who had me in tow looked down at me in reply to
this horrific display, "Learn the lesson around here,
cutie.  No talking.  Period."

I was finally led to the intersection of hallways at
the security counter.  He let go of my arm and ordered,
"Stay right there."

I watched him walk behind the counter, leaving me to
stand naked in the middle of the corridor.  He opened a
cabinet on the wall and retrieved a bag of large
hypodermic needles.  Then opening the small
refrigerator below the cabinet, he set out some vials
and beakers on the counter top.  As he worked with the
pharmaceutical paraphernalia, I gradually became more
aware of my nakedness and vulnerability and so slowly
turned to the opposite wall with my back to him,
attempting with my hands and arms to conceal my exposed
femininity.

The only sound was the clinking of glass beakers and
containers moving as he worked at the counter preparing
a large hypodermic filled with some kind of serum.  I
figured it was for me but if they were going to rape me
they were certainly strong enough that they wouldn't
have to knock me out to do it.  I kept trying to go
over in my mind the things that the men had been
talking about but none of it made any sense.

"Ya know," he abruptly started talking to me, "I don't
know how the hell they wound up with a cute little one
like you for this job.  They usually ship the ones with
little tits outta here.  I mean, you just aren't the
type they usually use for this sort of thing."

He paused for a moment and then continued, "Shit, lemme
give ya some first class advice.  I've seen a lot of
girls go through here over the years, some fight it and
some just go with the flow of things.  But I'm tellin'
ya the truth.  If you wanna survive this place the best
thing to do is just take what they give ya and be quiet
about it.  Everybody's got their little job to do
around here, I got mine and now you got yours.  Ya keep
to your business and put in your day's work, everything
will be okay.  Ya fuck with the system and cute or not,
that big guard would just as soon kill ya as look at
ya."

I didn't hear him come up behind me and tensed as he
wrapped his arm around my waist.  He easily lifted me
up, draping me on my stomach on the counter top with my
legs hanging down toward the floor.  While I knew that
in that position I was now fully exposed to him, after
the recent exhibition of terror in the other corridor
and his little speech I decided to remain silent and
offered no resistance.  Suddenly I felt the stab of a
large needle into the soft lip of my exposed vulva and
I couldn't help letting out a muffled cry.

He remarked to me passively, "Relax, it's in your hair,
what hair ya got.  The needle mark don't show there. 
Just a little mixture of hormones really.  If you're
lucky it'll keep you knocked out for the next couple of
hours.  Oh yeah, it'll help those tits of yours grow
too.  Shit, who knows," he laughed, "Maybe it'll make a
real woman outta ya."

I could feel my genital tissue swell as the generous
contents of the syringe emptied into my small figure. 
Finally, he removed the needle and I squeezed my thighs
together in response to the sting of its penetration
and in a vain effort to somehow cover my private self
from his view.  However, I was momentarily relieved to
learn that the man was apparently not interested in
carnal ventures as he again grabbed me around the
waist, lifting and setting me down on my feet.

"Come on bitch.  We gotta move."  His hand seized my
arm and led me down the opposite corridor.  I actually
was able to walk only a short way before my legs
unexpectedly became very weak and increasingly unsteady
from the effects of his massive injection.  After just
a few steps, I staggered and began to fall.

"Shit, we haven't even made it to the showers yet. 
Lucky you're a tiny one."

Reaching around me, he easily lifted my small, naked,
limp frame onto his shoulder.  My senses began to
quickly drift into unconsciousness and the last thing I
remember was being carried through a swinging double
door marked "A-Wing".

EPISODE 3

I was half awakened by the sound of something banging
somewhere beyond the room I was in.  Still semi-
conscious, I laid there for several minutes feeling
very relaxed and rested.  My recently bathed body had
the smell and sensation of being once again luxuriously
clean and my long hair had been washed and tied tightly
in a bun on the back of my head.  Believing that I was
still at home in my own bed I opened my eyes and was
startled to find myself in a very strange brightly lit
room.  Attempting to move I soon discovered that my
nude body had been securely strapped to what appeared
to be a stainless steel table top.  My breasts which I
just then realized had become quite bloated and
strangely tender, were hanging down through two holes
cut into the table and my legs were tightly held
together by straps over my ankles with similar straps
lashing down my wrists and stretching my arms up over
my head.  A fifth wide strap firmly cinched my waist to
the table.

Now quickly becoming more alert I began to recall where
I was and how I had gotten there but at the same time I
still couldn't comprehend the purpose of the grotesque
place I found myself in or what was likely to become of
me.  While it might sound strange to say so, I also
couldn't really tell if I had been raped or not. 
Considering the mindless aggressiveness of the males I
had already encountered I just couldn't bring myself to
believe that they wouldn't have already sexually
violated me in some way.  I knew that I should be
feeling at least some discomfort if they had done
something to me but the only thing I could sense being
different down there was the moisture from my recent
cleaning. 

The room appeared to be some sort of large windowless
chamber like a big gymnasium locker room.  It had a red
tile floor, similar red tile walls, and a hard plaster
ceiling painted bright white with rows of glaring
fluorescent fixtures.  It suddenly began to feel very
cold.  Stacks of various pieces of stainless steel
tools and equipment were laying against the walls along
with a pile of various sized wooden crates.

From my vantage point I could see several other
stainless steel tables, about two feet by eight feet in
size and about four feet tall, all appearing similar to
the one I was strapped to, contoured to fit an adult
female lying in the prone position with straps for the
wrists, ankles and waist hanging off the sides.  While
they weren't flat, the tops of the tables appeared
unbroken except for two round openings which would
allow access to one's breasts from beneath where
various pieces of tubing and cabling hung from large
hooks.  The table I occupied appeared to be somewhat
smaller as if it had been adjusted for my frame.  I
must have been more petite than the minimum size
normally intended for the device and my small breasts
barely dropped through the holes provided for them.

My examination of the room was interrupted when the
door on the far end opened and two men entered, walking
to the middle of the chamber.  Both were wearing the
same blue jumpsuit uniform like the man who had
originally brought me there.  One was particularly
unkempt in appearance, pushing a mop and mop bucket and
was apparently a member of the cleaning staff.  He was
older, overweight with balding dark hair and close set
eyes, looking and sounding kind of dumb when he talked. 
The other was more a well groomed middle aged Hispanic
with piercing eyes, muscular and tough looking like a
gangster.

Not wanting to have anyone see me in my present state,
bound naked to the top of a metal table, I quickly
closed my eyes, feigning unconsciousness as they
approached.  I don't know why but I guess I figured
that if I didn't see them they wouldn't notice me and
somehow just go away.  The supervisor was the first to
speak, "Okay, in here you gotta clean everything.  Hose
down these walls and tables, then wet mop this floor. 
Everything's gotta be spotless.  Damn, half the stuff
is still in the crates."

I cringed as the cleaning man, noticing my presence,
responded, "Hey, there's a li'l girl in here."

Walking over toward my tabletop snare the supervisor
began complaining loudly with his focus on me, "What
the hell's that doing here.  All the milking cunts are
supposed to be over in B-wing waiting for shipment. 
Shit, here I am, supposed to be in charge around here
of this fuckin' dairy.  Who the hell is moving these
damn cunts around before I've okayed it.  Besides, why
the hell is this little runt doing here in the dairy
wing anyhow?  What is this, somebody's idea of a joke?"

Still attempting to feign unconsciousness I could smell
the cleaning man standing next to me, his nauseating
pungent sweaty odor stealing all the air from my lungs. 
I passively tolerated his large dirty hand running down
my back and over my derriere as he physically inspected
me, "She's gotta pretty little butt."  Suddenly feeling
a sharp slap on my rear, the deception was over while I
reflexed with a small yelp and tensed in my straps
while his hand continued in its crude examination of my
exposed naked skin.

The supervisor replied to him from under the table,
"Yeah.  Right.  But its got damn small tits for a
milker.  Wonder why the hell they stuck this one in
here."  His hand fondled my breasts which were still
unusually sore and I could feel small droplets of thick
milk forming on my tensely erect nipples as he pressed
his hand against me.

This was a very strange sensation although the overall
feeling wasn't altogether unpleasant.  It was somewhat
disturbing since I knew that for me to be suddenly
lactating was certainly a totally unnatural thing but
his manipulation seemed to relieve the building tension
in my chest, which I by now I had figured out had been
caused by that earlier massive injection of hormones I
had received.  Whatever they had injected me with had
the effect of profoundly stimulating my young mammary
glands and was continuing to promote my lingering
disorientation.

However, this unexpected phenomena gave him a new
thought, "Hey, ever have cunt milk before?  Must've had
some shots.  There's milk in these li'l jugs."  He
paused and then said to the cleaning man, "Git that
bowl over here."

The hand stroking my back left me as the unkempt man
picked up a stainless bowl from the nearby stack of
equipment and disappeared beneath the table.

He ordered, "Hold it right there.  Like so.  Now ya
just grab these things like this, and give 'em a little
squeeze."

His hand wrapped around my right breast and firmly
squeezed it.  The sudden release of pressure within my
chest combined with the sting of the thick fluid
gushing through the small openings of my nipple
startled me and I gave a small cry, tugging in vain
against the confining straps.  At the same time several
streaks of my creamy milk spurted into the bowl.

"Didn't like that much, huh cunt?  Can't be that bad,
cows do it all the time and it don't bother them much,"
he chuckled.  "Here, hold that down a bit," he said to
the other man.  "Now ya just grab a hold of both of
'em."

His other hand enveloped my left breast and immediately
they were being alternately squeezed, expressing thin
streams of thick milk into the bowl the other man held
beneath me.  This activity relieved the growing feeling
of pressure developing within my breasts, leaving me
with a funny tingling sensation that filled my entire
chest.  But at the same time I was wincing from a
torment that felt like someone was jabbing me with pins
originating from the sudden stress of the thick fluid
spurting though my nipples.

"Jus' like milkin' a cow," I could hear him laugh while
the stroking continued for several more cycles.  Then
it stopped and the sharp pain in my nipples soon began
to subside.  I could hear him below me putting the bowl
to his mouth, "Ahhhh.  I always like it when its their
first time out, the milk's so thick and creamy." 
Trembling with disgust I did all I could do to keep
from screaming at him, just from the thought of this
degenerate male exploiting my restrained and helpless
body, consuming my very being. 

The cleaning man quickly begged, "Hey, kin I try?"

"Sure, go 'head and give it a squeeze."

"Grab it like this?"  His large hand clenched my right
breast and roughly pulled down, violently stretching it
and pinching my already sore nipple.  The sharp sting
was more than I could bear and I responded with a
shriek as I jerked violently in my restraints yielding
only an intermittent trickle of my warm milk to dribble
into their bowl.

"Whoa!  She don' like that much.  Well, jus' hafta try
it the old fashioned way."

His open mouth swallowed my other nipple as his wet
lips and tongue slobbered on my tender left breast,
filling me with loathing as he sucked on me for several
seconds while at the same time I could feel my rich
milk freely spouting into his throat.  What frightened
me most about his action wasn't so much the pain caused
by his ferocious sucking but the unexpected abrupt
onset of small fluttery spasms in my lower abdomen, as
if my reproductive organs were somehow connected to
this sudden lactation being forced on my system.  He
finally ceased, "Now that's good."

"Okay.  Enough fun with the little milk piggy."  The
supervisor was now above and behind me.  My abdominal
muscles having once again relaxed I squirmed as he
slapped me firmly on my behind and then began to make
his exit.  "Need everything hosed down.  Mop up these
floors and straighten up those crates.  This place is
supposed to be up and running by tomorrow.  Shit, looks
like they're trying to run the stock in here already. 
I'll be over in B-wing.  Gotta find out what the hell's
going on.  Come over when you finish up here.  Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah." he replied.  The door closed and the
supervisor was gone.  The other man who had all the
while been trying to make my breasts express milk by
pulling and twisting on my nipples crawled out from
under the table.  "Just you an' me now honey."  A large
grubby hand again ran down my back and over my rear.  I
trembled with disgust and further strained in the tight
straps, his smell again overpowering me.  "Don't like
my hand on yer li'l butt do ya?"  His dirty rough paw
continued to caress me.  "I'm not like those fags ya
know.  I like li'l girlies like you."  The hand then
intruded on the inside of my thighs and I tensed my
legs closer together.  "You got the tightest li'l butt. 
Ya know, you look like jus' a little girl but you're
really a big girl, huh.  What's yer li'l pussy feels
like, huh?  Got you strapped down pretty tight here." 
He tugged on my waist strap.  "Lets see."  I sucked a
deep breath as he moved his big right hand, palm up,
between the table and my stomach.  "That's yer tummy," 
he added as it continued to slither down toward my
pussy.

The reality of his filthy presence pillaging my
chastity caused me to freeze in dread.  I guessed that
this was just about the way I had expected things would
turn out ever since I had first been captured, one of
these males would have to be the first to rape me.  But
now that it was actually happening everything about it
seemed so unreal and with this big loathsome filthy
male about to violate my defenseless body I just
couldn't move.  I couldn't even scream.

"Down here is the national forest.  An, ohhh."  His
middle finger began probing at my outer labia, dividing
and then slowly slithering its way into the crack of my
vulva.  "The grand canyon."

A total sense of revulsion suddenly permeated me from
his assault and with a spontaneous chill running all
the way up my spine I violently jerked away from his
finger as far as my confining straps would allow,
barely expelling the invading stake from me.  "Don'
like that much, huh li'l hooker?"

With his right hand still resting close against my
pussy, he pressed his left one down on my firmly tensed
derriere, sandwiching my entire lower abdomen between
his two fat hands.  "It's okay.  This won't be bad. 
Jus goin' to do a little drillin' here."

Again I tensed as his greasy finger immediately found
its way back to my pussy.  Squeezing me between his
large hands, he easily slid it back and forth between
my tense lips, exploring his way around my sexual
privacy.  He worked at this for a while, poking at my
constricted vaginal opening and then slid it out,
replacing it with one of his somewhat smaller fingers. 
I guess it must have been his ring finger.  I felt it
pressing into me while he again rapidly ferreted out my
vaginal aperture and started digging his way through
it.  And then, at last breaching my modest slit, he
forced that finger of his way up inside my body,
crudely stretching my still unbroken hymen.  Trapped
and no longer able to repulse his assault I screamed
and lurched from the suddenness of the sharp stabbing
pain caused by his vicious invasion into my birth
canal.

"Whoa!  Calm down!  You're jist the tightest li'l
thing."

He firmly spanked me on the rear.  I twisted again in a
vain attempt to repel his intrusion but my sudden
movement only served to allow his finger to become more
deeply seated within my constricted vagina.  He seized
this opportunity to quickly drive it in and out with
some sort of frenetic excitement.

"Wocko.  Wocko.  Wocko.  Wocko."

Now fully conscious, I shrieked from the surprising
sting of the dry abrasion caused by his finger and from
the realization of the cruel defilement that was now
actually happening to me.  I continued as best I could
with progressively more frantic attempts to rid myself
of the bizarre involuntary tight grip my inexperienced
body seemed to have on his finger and eventually my
persistent evasive contortions managed to expel him
from my genitals.

"Boy, ya really don' like havin' fun, huh."

He slipped his hand out from beneath me.  In spite of
his heavy stench I took a deep breath, looking away as
I heard him licking his finger that had just been
moistened with my own vaginal excretions.  "Taste good
though.  Shit!  Lets try this again."

He shook the table as he crawled back underneath me. 
Moving over to my right breast he rudely took my nipple
between his lips and I endured him sucking on me for a
few more seconds.  "You jus' taste good all over."  He
then moved over to my left breast and taking it deep
into his mouth he likewise drew from it another
brimming mouthful of my thick milk.

He amused himself with squeezing my breasts, pulling on
my nipples and twisting them until I would scream and
wriggle away from him.  Then he finally said what I had
been dreading I would hear since I had been first
kidnaped.  "Damn!  Ya know, I'd really like to fuck
that li'l cunt of yers.  Shit, they owe me that much." 
I didn't know what he was up to but could hear and feel
him rattling various attachments on the table under me
until he paused, "Now, what's this handle do?"

Suddenly there was this muffled mechanical vibrating
noise beneath me and the entire table began to move.  I
really didn't know what to expect and gasped as I felt
the straps on my ankles forcibly spreading my legs wide
apart, my midsection sinking into open, unsupported
space and a wave of cool air wafting up on my exposed
inner thighs and pussy.

"All right!  Now we're gittin' somewhere."

I quickly realized that the table had me bound and
spread eagled directly above him.  Just as quickly I
felt his hand run across my newly accessible, tensed
abdomen.  "Ooooh.  You such a smooth li'l thing."

His hand then easily glided down to my vulva and once
more he slipped his finger through my pubic hair and
between my now openly exposed lips.  Finding this new
position of mine much more limiting than before I
closed my eyes and stiffened myself against the
inevitable as I endured him squeezing his middle finger
deep into my taut vaginal passage.

"Yer still tight when yer opened up like this?"

Knowing that there was nothing I could now do to resist
his rape of me, I attempted to concentrate on relaxing
my vaginal opening just as he again quickly and
insanely began vacillating his finger in and out of my
tender aperture.

"Wocko.  Wocko.  Wocko.  Wocko."

Softly screaming I managed to rotate my hips away from
him, stopping the oscillations.  Unfortunately the
natural tightness of my still undefiled sexual organ
held its persistent grip on his finger.

"Still don' like my finger huh.  How 'bout two."

His one finger slid out of my vagina but before I had a
chance to relax, a pair of his now moistened fat
fingers instantly punched their way back up into me.  I
gulped and froze in response to the sudden sharp
stabbing pain in my genitals caused by the rupture of
my hymen as it was forcibly ripped and split apart with
a pop I could feel all the up my back.  Strangely
enough, while the stinging sensation was intense it was
also like something I had never felt before.  It felt
like a huge opening had been torn in my lower body and
I was at first horrified that I might have been
seriously injured until it finally occurred to me what
he had just done and I began to feel the weight and
volume of the man's swollen fingers I was being forced
to unwillingly accommodate inside my vaginal canal. 
Not content with just violating me, he persisted to
push his fingers deep into me, wriggling them around,
spreading them apart and pushing on me until it felt
like he was pressing them against my stomach.  The
abruptness of this impulsive gesture suppressed any
defensive motion I could have offered and I took
several shallow breaths, doing what I could to endure
the blazing torment in my openly displayed genitals
while his fingers burned within my sensitive portal. 
Then he quickly slid them out and I shuddered from the
sudden warm moistness in my vulva, knowing that the
slight trickle of blood tracing across my skin was from
my freshly split maidenhead.

"Aghhh.  That's good.  Should we go for three?"

I could feel him now lay the three middle fingers of
his right hand together on me and then swiftly
spreading open the lips of my tense, awaiting pussy, he
purposefully slid them up and in, one by one, forcing
all three of them up into me.  As they stabbed their
way through my tender vaginal opening my agony was
further augmented by the Velcro straps cutting into my
wrists and ankles while I lurched my hips and torso
enough to make the steel table creak in a desperate
effort to escape him.  Then I began to scream from the
stinging pain coming from the laceration of my
remaining hymen as he ripped his way into my body,
torturing me with his ugly presence.

"Ohhh. That's tough.  Don't squirm aroun' so much.  Ya
know, I know what you really want."

I continued to twist my hips around again, straining
against the confining straps, and finally freed myself
from his plundering assault on my fragile, sensitive
passage.  It became vividly clear to me where the girl
I had met in that prison chamber the night before got
those bruises on her ankles and wrists.

"Yeah.  Okay."  I could hear him beneath me licking his
fingers, "Finger lickin' good.  Mmmmm, left me some
cherry juice this time.  Nectar of the gods."  He then
paused, slowly realizing the vulgar offense he had just
committed on my young body.  "Damn!  Yer no hooker. 
Yer a li'l virgin.  That's why yer jumpin' around so
much.  You never actually done this before have ya. 
Shit!  Let's see.  We kin fix that.  I gotta move these
boxes over here."

He crossed to the pile of crates and began to drag some
of the larger boxes in under the table, talking I guess
to himself, "Stack 'em up like this an' make me a li'l
platform."  He continued to move and stack the crates
beneath me, "Stack up enough of 'em."  He paused, "Now
I jist git up here."

By that time my stomach felt like it had been tied in a
knot and I remember coming very close to throwing up as
he brushed against my exposed skin, crawling face up
onto the bed of boxes he had built beneath the table. 
My nausea was only partly caused by the horror of the
rape which I was about to endure, the rest of it was a
result of the overpowering stench of his body odor
which had been further intensified by the physical
effort of pushing those boxes around.  I continued to
squirm from the feeling of him rubbing and pushing
against my naked body through the openings in the table
and against my openly exposed vulva as he jostled his
legs up between my thighs.  "There we are.  Okay, git
comfy now li'l virgin.  Gotta git this damn zipper
open."

Although still restrained, my writhing continued as the
only resistance I could muster while he moved his
hands, rubbing against my bare skin, undoing the long
zipper on his jumpsuit, pulling his arms out of the
sleeves and then finally pulling down his underwear
briefs.  Uncontrollably, I gasped in horror as his hot
engorged penis leapt out to press against my soft
smooth tummy, its diameter every bit as swollen in size
as his three fingers and already dripping its cold
excretion on my bare skin.  "How's that feel, huh? 
Never felt anything like that before, huh?  Let's git
him down where he can do us both some good."

His shaft plunged down between my inner thighs.  The
force of its stiffness easily split apart the now
aching lips of my spread open tender pussy and I
trembled from the sensation of the blunt end of his
member probing for the delicate aperture to my vaginal
canal.  With my vulva still throbbing from the recent
shredding of my hymen this assault added a new level of
distress.  I knew I had to somehow prepare myself for
the inevitable horror of being forced to bear his
massive organ stroking inside me while trying not to
even consider the repugnant possibility of this
disgusting male making me pregnant.  I found myself
beginning to cry.

"Hey, hey, don't cry now honey.  You'll be all right,"
he said from under the table while continuing to rub
his anxiously rigid penis between the lips of my spread
open pussy.  "You'll be okay now.  This ain't supposed
to hurt.  The only reason you got that little pussy is
so's that you can use it for just this kind of stuff
you know."

The anxiety leading up to this ultimate moment had left
me reeling and in spite of the cold temperature of the
room I found myself breaking out into a sweat.  The
side effects from the drugs I had been administered
were still making me dizzy and with my heart pounding
in my ears I felt like I was going to pass out at any
moment.  Now with his vulgar penetration into my
fragile inner self imminent, he gave an extended grunt
and my open vulva and derriere were suddenly deluged by
a slimy eruption emanating like a fountain from his
burning erection. 

"Oh!  Shit!" he shouted.  The male beneath me labored
with each successive spasm while the skin of my butt
and genitals was further inundated by his sticky
seminal fluid.  At last a final wave of numbness rushed
through my being as the intensity of the instant
gratefully overwhelmed me back into unconsciousness.

EPISODE 4

The next thing I remember was softly stirring with the
feeling of a throbbing soreness in my breasts. 
Actually, my whole chest was now thoroughly aching with
a strange inner pressure, my normally small breasts
feeling fully bloated with fluid as they hung through
the holes in the table beneath me.  Still half asleep,
I squinted to see that I was in the same large
windowless room as before, still strapped to the cold
steel table, legs once again tightly held together and
arms stretched over my head.  The room, like myself,
was moist from having been recently washed and scrubbed
and the crates were now neatly stacked in the corner.

The soreness in my breasts was accompanied by a
corresponding stinging ache in my genital area and
while drifting in and out of consciousness I began to
recall the rape that I had just survived.  I laid there
crying for some time, partly out self pity and partly
from the growing fear of knowing that since I was still
strapped naked to that steel table I would doubtless be
forced to suffer through that total humiliation and
probably even more all over again.

The door clicked and I looked up just as two men opened
it.  Entering was the sadistic enormous guard from
B-Wing and the unkempt perverted cleaning man, who a
short time ago had finished hosing the room and my
immobile naked body.

I quickly looked away as the guard entered, "You got
this place cleaned up pretty good.  Any problems?"

The cleaning man followed, "Nah.  No sweat at all."

Approaching me on the table the guard surveyed my
junior sized physique, "So this is little 'tit-less'
that we're s'posed get milk out of?"

Joining him the ugly cleaning man answered, "Yeah,
she's a cute little thing."  His hand slapped me on the
behind and I responded with a small whimper from the
sharp sting.

The guard continued while crawling under the table,
"Well bein' cute ain't gonna give us any cream."

"Oh, she's got milk all right," the cleaning man
knowingly replied.  "Believe me, she's got it."

Standing next to the table his sickening odor again
enveloped the entire space and I felt him roughly
stroking me, caressing my smooth bare skin.  I tried
holding my breath but just then the guard's large hand
skillfully pressed on my swollen right breast and once
more the small droplets of my lush milk appeared on its
sensitive nipple.  "Yeah.  You might be right.  These
little shits have grown up a little.  Get that machine
over here.  Those new units been checked out yet?"

The cleaning man grabbed one of the stainless steel
devices with hoses dangling from it and disappeared
beneath the table, "No.  They just came in yesterday." 
There was a series of metallic noises beneath me as the
machine was attached to the table and the vacuum hoses
to the machine.

"Switch on the air, will ya?" the guard ordered.

The cleaning man moved over to a large panel on the
wall and threw a switch "on".  I could hear a faint
motor whir and the cups attached to the machine beneath
the table begin to make alternate suction sounds.  He
stepped back to the table and I turned away from him
just as his hand again began to fondle my confined
figure, running down my back and over my rear and
thighs.

I tensed against my straps from his lewd caresses but
what was making me more anxious was the growing
realization of where I was.  The conversation between
the males was finally beginning to make sense in my
mind and between the hormonal treatments, my swollen
breasts, the strange equipment in the room, and now the
peculiar sounds I was hearing them make, I finally
believed that I was beginning to understand why they
had me there.  But certainly this couldn't have been
the purpose for my abduction.  The other girls I had
seen imprisoned here were much better endowed.  My
small body couldn't possibly produce much milk.  I was
just too young and too small.

My thoughts were interrupted as the guard's voice
continued beneath me, "Well, lets just see if these
little buckets have any Grade A in 'em."  First one cup
and then the other snatched onto my tenderly brimming
chest, reviving me with a shudder and muffled scream as
I endured the unbridled force of the machine's suction
while it proceeded to extract a thick creamy harvest
from the core of my small breasts.  Adding to the
overwhelming agony of the rhythmical pulsing of the
milking device was the return of my uterine spasms,
this time regularly contracting deep within me as if my
entire person was now somehow being exploited by that
mechanical horror the males had forced on me.

"Hey, don't be crying over a little spilled milk now," 
he crudely joked.  "Guess we better back this thing off
before it sucks those little tits in with it.  That
better li'l cunt?"  Sensing no measurable change to the
intensity of the suction on me, I could still feel the
steady streams of my creamy milk as it continued to
freely flow into the tank.  The burning sensation in my
nipples gradually lessened as the consistency of my
milk began to grow more liquid and  I eventually
succeeded in reducing the pinching of the suction cups
by wriggling my chest in the holes of the table.  After
a few minutes I was all cried out and also somewhat
more able to endure the working of their sadistic
device.

However, all the while, the cleaning man continued to
rub his hand up and down my back, over my rear and down
my legs.  I could also feel the hulking guard watching
me from beneath the table.  Beginning to become amused
by his active molestation of my small defenseless naked
body, the guard must have been trying to think of
something else to do by which he might further impress
his ugly friend and at the same time completely
subjugate me as his little female slave.  It didn't
take him very long.

"There any of that wide adhesive tape up there?"

"I don't think so.  Uh uh,"  the smelly cleaning man
answered while he persisted to rub his hand across my
back.

"Oh well, no matter,"  the guard continued.  "You know
how to fill the tank quicker?"

"Uh. No." the cleaning man replied, now stroking my
rear.

"Watch this."  Immediately, there was a metallic click
from the apparatus under me and the table I was laying
on imparted a slight mechanical noise as again the
lower half of it slid open.  Preoccupied with the
machine on my breasts I didn't expect the table's
movement and gave a soft squeal when my legs were again
wrested wide apart, once more leaving my abdomen sink
into open, unsupported space and this time openly
exposing to both of these two degenerate males my
sensitive sexual organs.

Knowing that I was under intense scrutiny by both of
these men I had up to this point effectively resisted
displaying any response, except for my crying, to the
severity of the torture device they had hooked to my
breasts or to the strange effects it was causing
throughout my tired body.  However once they had me
spread open I could no longer restrain the uterine
spasms it was inducing within me and could feel my
vaginal lips uncontrollably twitching in time with the
machine's pulses.  Sitting directly beneath my now
fully revealed genitals the monstrous guard quickly
noticed the reflexive quivering too.

"Hey lookit that," he roared to the other man.  "I
think this little slut's cunt hole is callin' to me. 
You want me to fuck ya little tit-less?"

Immediately I felt him exploring my open lips and then
probing his way into my vaginal passage while my little
spasms continued to involuntarily squeeze on his fat
probing finger.  By this time both he and the other
male were laughing at me "milking them while they
milked me," and I began to feel sick, physically sick
from the obscenity of having these males ogling and
fingering my most private parts, reveling in my lewd
predicament and knowing that I had absolutely no
control over my own actions.  Meanwhile, he just
continued poking at me and making vulgar jokes about my
hopeless situation.  Finally, his crude attempts at
sick humor not getting any response from me or the
other man he continued, "Okay little tit-less, here
comes the fun part now.  They say good things come in
small packages so let's just see if your little package
has got anything I want."

He abruptly pulled his finger out of me making an
obscene little popping noise and without delay began to
stand up between my widely drawn apart legs.  Of course
as he stood he made a of point of scuffing and pressing
his way against my tautly held thighs, laughing at me
while I futilely twisted against my restraints.  It was
the only thing I could do in response to the
repulsiveness of him rubbing his hands against my pussy
while he undid his zipper and opened his pants.

His massive rigid penis instantly surged out, pressing
against my softly anticipating pussy, leaving traces of
his sweat and vile excretion on my pure skin.  I gasped
and my entire body chilled as he poked me with it,
laughing and purposely forcing me to fathom the size of
this abhorrently gross auger now poised to penetrate
me.

"Ya like it?  It's the best on the island."

He moved his organ up so that it now lay in the crack
of my buttocks, stroking it back and forth, arousing
the thing to swell even larger.  While I could no
longer cry, my body began to uncontrollably shiver from
the dread of my impending rape and the distress caused
by the continued exertion on my small breasts which, to
my surprise, were still yielding generous volumes of
milk into the holding tank of the mechanical device
laboring beneath the table.

"Don't worry li'l whore, yer cunt was made for this
kinda thing.  Besides, yer in good company.  I've
already fucked all the other sluts in the place jist
like this."

His comment didn't give me much comfort as his large
hands wrapped around my thighs and his thumbs grabbing
at the soft lips of my pussy easily pried open my
innocent slit.  "Okay, lets jist git this dipstick down
where I kin check that oil."

Knowing who this male was, I was biting my lip to
remain silent as he continued his horrible rape of me
but I couldn't help emitting an involuntary cry as the
tip of his penis slid its way along the partially
spread open lips of my pussy.  While I couldn't see it,
from the size of his shaft of swollen flesh that I had
felt stroking in my butt crack and the diameter I now
felt spreading open the lips of my pussy, I was sure
that the size of his penis was way bigger than 
anything I could manage to hold.  I know I started
crying again, believing that the thing would literally
rip me in half when he tried to force it into me.  It
was just too big, too monstrous, to be real.

I closed my eyes and tried to prepare for what I knew
was about to happen next.  I tried to convince myself
that since the other man had already shred my hymen and
opened me up enough to get three of his fingers into my
vagina I could somehow accommodate that huge penis I
could feel nudging its way into my private slit. 
However, I still wasn't ready when clutching both hands
on my hips he viciously catapulted his enormous shaft
of throbbing flesh through my constricted opening.  Its
size and the force of its sudden impact sent a stab of
pain through me that moved from my vagina all the way
up my back and literally knocked the wind out of me. 
It took several moments before I was able to react to
his vicious assault when I began to scream and fiercely
surge against my straps with my entire person quivering
from the trauma of being pierced and lacerated by his
repugnant weapon of degradation.

"Whoa, yer good but you are one tight li'l whore," he
laughed.  "You must've been fuckin' boy scouts for a
livin', huh?"  Now both men were callously laughing at
me, obviously fully aware that I had never done this
kind of thing before.

It wasn't until the stinging pain throughout my pelvic
area started to subside that I began to sense the
weight of that massive lump of bloated flesh filling my
entire lower body.  With each of his vigorous thrusts I
could feel the head of his penis deeply penetrating its
way further into me, punching against my stomach and
stretching my vaginal passage to the breaking point
until I began to feel nauseous.  Again and again it
would drive into me like a giant foreign presence
swelling and taking over my whole inner being and then
would pull out so that it could plunge into me all over
again.

"Boy, I'd say yer oil level is pretty low in there," he
laughed between thrusts.  "I think what you need is the
full service lube job, huh bitch?  Well, yer jus gonna
hafta make me come so I kin git you lubed up properly
the way you should be."

Then he began to drive into me with renewed aggression,
forcing me to cry out with each succeeding stroke. 
While I was careful not to actually say anything, I
couldn't help crying and moaning from the pain of his
aggression.  His only reply to my agony was to chuckle,
"Well, ya can't make an omelet without breakin' a few
yokes ya know!"

His ensuing movements in and out of me only accentuated
the inflammation within my own sexual organs which were
now again being so savagely desecrated.  In an effort
to diminish the torment of my impalement I began to
gyrate my hips, mirroring his regular motion.  His
lunges, in turn, paced the sound of the obscene
mechanism still straining on my tender breasts, now
steadily becoming more and more sensitive to their
machine's interminable demand.

He must have felt my activity on the underside of his
obese gut when he stopped his thrusting and struck me
on the derriere, "That's it bitch.  You fuck me!"

This pause in his cadence caused me to hesitate the
performance of my movement as well and not knowing what
he was up to, the sudden pain caused by his hand
striking me only produced an irregular wriggle of my
tense pelvis before I again froze, still submissively
bearing the bulk of his massive organ within me.

"Come on bitch, fuck me!"

Again he struck me, more forcibly this time, on the
rear.  Figuring out what he meant I responded with a
small shriek and started to rhythmically maneuver my
hips, struggling to satisfy his perverted thirst by
stroking his rigid penis with my tortured vagina as
much as I could within the confinement of my still
tightly secured restraints.

That was when he reached forward and undid the bun on
the back of my head, dividing my long silky hair into
two strands that he yanked on in order to satisfy his
growing fantasy.  "Giddy up bitch!" he yelled as he
pulled on my hair as if it were a set of reins.  I
continued to loudly scream while struggling to massage
his ponderous erection with my tortured being.  My
pained reaction must have somehow amused him as he
began to laugh, "Oooowweeee!  Yer just one li'l bundle
of wild animal sex."  Pushing me further he yanked even
harder on my hair, increasing the strain on my head and
arching my back far enough to lift my breasts and the
still attached tugging suction cups up through the
holes in the table.

While I was in very good physical condition before my
capture, the combination of the injected stimulants and
the increasingly brutal physical abuse on my system
began to make me feel faint.  Sensing that I would soon
lose my consciousness I looked up at the other man who
was sitting on one of the other tables staring at me
and cried out in anguish, "Please stop!  Why!  Why are
you doing this to me?"

Immediately the guard's greasy gut slid off of my rear
as he leaned back, letting go of my hair.  I dropped
back to the table, crying and continuing with my vain
attempts to try to satisfy his intensified lechery by
stroking him as best I could with my now painfully
lacerated vaginal opening.

He then shouted, "You talked, bitch!  You know what
happens when you talk?"

Suddenly I lurched from the feeling of his hand quickly
snatching the flesh of my tense buttock, splitting open
the fold.  I knew immediately what was coming next
since I had earlier seen him use his electric prod
device on that woman in the hallway and knew that he
had it attached to his belt when he came into the room. 
He deftly buried this metal object deep into my exposed
anus causing me to release a loud uncontrolled scream
in response to the devastating agony of it tearing into
my small body.  Instantly an overwhelming pulsing white
heat filled my abdomen and I quaked in response to his
energizing the mechanical device penetrating my bowels
and finally I literally lost all control.

Shrieking again and again from the continued exhaustive
spasms caused by his periodic powering of the
entrenched electrical prod, I was unable to do anything
to escape his hideous effort to both punish me and at
the same time further stimulate my motion.  The man's
vulgar pleasure seemed to increase as each of the
prod's successive blistering jolts heightened his
sadistic maniacal laughter, half from its direct
stimulation transferring to him through my besieged
reproductive tissues and half from the involuntary
excruciating cramping it was causing within my vagina,
forcibly seizing it around his grossly engorged penis.

This combination of torture and violent humiliation to
my innocent exposed body by his increasingly deranged
perversions, added to the constant wrenching by the
repulsive implement on my steadily depleting breasts,
was now producing more tension in my small being than I
could bear, but the rape being performed on me
continued to grow even more intensely ferocious. 
Looking up I could see the cleaning man still gawking
at me while my torso was being persistently forced
toward the top of the table by his companion's
increasingly bestial thrusting into my wrested open
genitals.  The pain from the modified cattle prod
protruding from my rectum and his oversized penis
ramming against my cervix was at least equaled by the
distress caused by the straps cutting into my ankles
and my breasts being pinched between the milking access
openings and the lugging suction cups.  In order to
prevent further suffering I actually found myself
pushing my small body back into him, further deepening
his cruel thrusts into me.

The intense agony finally started to overwhelm me just
as he began roaring, "Yes!  Yes!  That's it!"  With
that he thrust his hips forward, driving his hardened
organ very deep into my interior and I could clearly
feel the erection I was bearing firmly tense and then
discharge a voluminous spurt of his warm semen against
my straining internal tissues, quickly filling my
vagina and surging up into the most private recesses of
my body.  Then with each of the giant male's subsequent
brutal plunges into my restrained torso being crowned
with yet another gush of his filthy cum spouting
against my cervix, I was again rescued from this
unthinkable reality, slipping back into
unconsciousness, still involuntarily convulsing from
his continued vicious desecration of my tender violated
person.

EPISODE 5

Once again I slowly awakened.  I felt as if I had been
asleep for some time and although my entire racked body
still ached from its recent extended torment, my
breasts were no longer as swollen as before and the
nagging drugged faint sensation I had earlier had more
or less left me.  I remained securely strapped to the
table, however, and could clearly tell that my still
tender physique had once again been thoroughly cleaned,
both inside and out.

While I felt somewhat physically better, the more I
thought about what was happening to me the more
depressed I became and I started to cry.  Struggling to
make sense out of why they had me there and just what
they were actually planning to do with me was more than
I could deal with.  Considering the medical appearance
of my surroundings, beginning with the table I was
strapped to which seemed expressly designed to
forcefully spread my legs apart along with their need
for human milk, I figured that my purpose at that place
must be to breed children.  I pictured myself as
becoming some sort of human baby factory, creating
infants for medical experiments or whatever other
perverted use those deranged males had dreamt up.

I began counting the days since my last period, trying
to calculate the chances of even just the possibility
that huge disgusting male's offspring might already be
evolving like a fungus inside me.  I knew that in my
present situation if that monster hadn't already made
me pregnant there was the unthinkable probability that
one of the other males soon would.  I knew that as long
as I was still naked and restrained to that steel table
it was just a matter of time before any one of those
animals felt it was his duty to rape me at a point in
time when my body would be primed to conceive his
offspring.  I wished they would just kill me and get it
over with.

Finally, still crying over the hopelessness of my
situation, this interlude of self pity was interrupted
by the sound of male voices outside in the corridor and
I looked up at the door just as three of them entered
the room.  It was again the slovenly depraved cleaning
man who had been with me earlier and this time he was
accompanied by the supervisor who had shown him how to
hand milk my breasts.  The third male was middle aged
and thin with glasses, mustache and a receding
hairline, dressed in a similar blue jumpsuit as the
others and carrying a large toolbox.

"Hey there li'l pixie."  I tensed as the cleaning man
ran his hand over my back and rear.  "Now you guys
watch this.  Like I was tellin' ya, these new tables
got this li'l special device.  'Member how hard you
told me it was to set up those butter churns before? 
Okay, watch this, it's goin' to be easy from now on."

The table vibrated with its familiar menacing noise and
I trembled from the humiliation of my legs being once
more forcefully drawn wide apart.  My unsupported shape
strained against the straps on my ankles as the
mechanism continued to grind away, efficiently exposing
my freshly defiled and painfully tender genitals to
these three deviant males.

"Hey boob," the mechanic taunted.  "Who do you think
designed all this crap?  Who do you think had to make
all those trips to Caracas to get this stuff
fabricated.  How many times do you think I had to sneak
into the States to smuggle out those little high torque
winch motors?"

I squirmed and looked away as he ran his hand down my
back and onto my thighs.  "This little cunt barely fits
on the thing.  Shit, you know except for that little
bubble butt it really looks more like a little boy. 
Nice muscle tone in those legs, healthy skin, no needle
marks or anything.  You know it looks like somebody's
been taking really good care of this one.  How did
somebody with a pretty little face like yours piss off
somebody enough to get sent over here to us?  Huh
little piggy?"

By now, particularly in my present position, I knew
that it would be best for me not to respond.  Once
again I felt thoroughly confused about what it was that
they were discussing.  I only knew that somehow all of
this conversation was leading to something which would
ultimately be very unhealthy for me.

"Well I think it's a great job!"  The supervisor
observed, complementing the mechanic's craftsmanship. 
"This still works a lot better than tugging those damn
legs apart and then gittin' kicked in the face before
ya can git 'em back in the straps."

He reached over and smoothly slid his coarse hand
across my derriere and then on down over my
apprehensive pussy.  I let out a hushed cry while his
finger crudely continued to seek out and finally
plunged through my freshly injured vaginal opening.  I
did the best I could to quietly endure him, biting my
lip while he harshly stretched my now exhausted
aperture, wriggling his appendage deep within me.

Convinced that I was about to be gang raped by the
three of them, I tried to relax my spread open body as
best I could while he continued to probe about my
interior as far as he could reach.  Then withdrawing
his finger, I felt it slide up to my rectum and
suddenly he rammed it into me again.  I groaned while
he roughly inspected my colon, burying his finger all
the way into me while twisting it around, poking at my
internal organs.  Then pulling it out again he
announced, "It's going to be close but it should be big
enough and the butt looks pretty clean so it must've
already had its enema."  Again I kept silent but I
didn't remember an enema and after my recent rapes, I
felt anything but clean.

The mechanic turned and bent down to pick up a metal
object from the nearby stack of assorted equipment. 
The device appeared to be some sort of stainless steel
cylinder with its shiny, polished surface glinting in
the bright light of the room.  The body of the silver
cylinder seemed about seven or eight inches long and it
must have been at least three inches in diameter.  One
end had a blunt rounded nose and the other a flat
flange with hose fittings protruding from it.  It
appeared to be solid but not particularly heavy.  While
not understanding its exact function, it wasn't
difficult to clearly comprehend that with everything
else that was going on, my own currently displayed,
restrained and fragile vaginal sheath was going to be
the inevitable destination of something of that shape
and size.

While I continued to watch with alarmed dread the
mechanic worked on the device, methodically attaching
rubber hoses to the fittings, one large and one small,
which were in turn connected to another larger
mechanical unit on the floor.  Walking over to the wall
and opening a cabinet over the small refrigerator next
to the sink he removed a bottle simply marked
"Cream/Table 1."  He first unscrewed the top of the
cylinder and then after opening the bottle, poured its
entire contents of thick white cream into the steel
container.  Looking up at my face he smiled, "Hasn't
had much time to cure, but you know, you sure got good
butterfat for such puny little tits."

I remember gasping with the realization that this was
the same cream extracted from my own breasts just a few
hours earlier.  Now overcome with anxiety I tightly
closed my eyes, turning away from this spectacle as he
replaced the blunt top to the metal cylinder.

Looking up from his work the mechanic asked, "Think we
need to put glue on this thing?  This cunt looks pretty
small."

"Damn right," the supervisor replied, "I don't want
that churn fallin' out and bangin' on the floor.  It's
brand new."

Digging into his toolbox the mechanic pulled out a pair
of latex gloves and slid them on his hands.  He then
took out a tub of some sort of liquid adhesive, removed
the lid and dipped his hand deep into the container. 
Lifting out a mass of a grimy sludge like substance he
glopped it on the blunt end of the churn.  Then holding
the cylinder with one hand, he smoothed it around with
the other, leaving a uniform thick syrupy coating over
the top of the unit.  I heard myself softly moan from
the acrid smell of the noxious glue, being something
between paint thinner and roach spray, knowing that
this toxic muck was also about to be deeply injected
into my sensitive internal being.

The mechanic noticing my anxiety flashed me a big grin
as he lifted the cylinder now dripping with the
disgusting brown ooze.  "Hey, what's with the big eyes. 
Don't look so worried now, I've done this before.  Lots
of times.  You'll live."  With that he disappeared
around the bottom of the table.

Knowing that they were about to somehow cram that thing
into me, my small restrained body began to
uncontrollably shiver.  All I could think of was that
there was nothing I could do to soften the inevitable
brutality which would very shortly be committed on my
private innocence by that loathsome object of theirs. 
Stiffening myself at the feeling of a hand on my pussy,
spreading open my still trembling lips, I suddenly
sensed the cold, slimy blunt end of the metal cylinder
being pressed against the anxious taut opening to my
vagina.

The man then started patting my rear.  "Okay, calm down
now.  Relax your little hole there and this will go in
just fine."

Recalling the massive bulk of this grotesque implement,
I vainly attempted to relax by taking a deep breath
just as he crudely thrust it into me.  With the massive
device tearing through my tense slit I had every
sensation of it completely ripping my body open and I
profoundly lurched against my restraints, emitting a
penetrating scream in an effort to dull the agony.

"Shit, you're right.  Damn thing don't fit.  That
fucking little cunt hole is just too damn small."

The device now completely infiltrating my vaginal
conduit, I loudly screamed again and again in reaction
to his persistent driving it against my cervix,
pressing on my internal organs and quickly filling my
lower abdomen.  I was certain that it was about to
puncture through my strained tissue when he finally
stopped forcing on the device.  The shaft of the
cylinder had succeeded in becoming tightly seized by my
grossly dilated vaginal opening, now sharply distended
by the sudden intrusion of their hideous metal vessel.

"Can't shove it in deep enough to go in all the way but
the damn thing looks pretty well stuck."

I attempted to relax in an effort to reduce the
throbbing ache from their metal cylinder overwhelming
me when I felt the supervisor coarsely handling my
vulva, clipping wire electrodes to my labial lips on
both sides of the still extruding device.  Still in
shock from the initial assault of their repulsive
invention, I think I could only manage a small groan
from the pinching of the clips on my raw flesh but I
was really unable to offer any resistance to their
presence.  The mechanic soon attached the mechanical
unit on the floor to connectors on the wall and threw a
switch starting the steady hum of a compressor motor
somewhere beneath me.  The supervisor announced, "Okay,
we got coolant flowing," and I could feel the cylinder
I was bearing become quickly chilled.

The supervisor then released the middle strap on the
table, allowing me to move my waist.  Hoping to lessen
my suffering I immediately twisted my freed pelvis in
an attempt to liberate myself of their contrivance
deviantly protruding from my sexual organs but I
immediately found that its bulky size, combined with
the tightness of my freshly stressed vaginal opening,
had securely and cruelly locked it within me.

"That's it, churn that cream!" the supervisor responded
to my movement.  I shrieked in pain as he again shook
on the cylinder,  "Come on!  Move it!"  Fearful of
another wrenching twist on the thing, I began to
wriggle my torso hoping it would be enough to satisfy
him.  "Ah shit," he responded, "Hit the damn switch!"

The mechanic threw another switch next to the
connectors on the wall.  A red light glowed above the
switch and I screeched from the massive pulse of
current stabbing through my lower body.  Although not
nearly as painful as the prod which earlier had been
jammed into my rectum, the pulse seemed to vibrate its
way from the external electrodes right up the cylinder
to the top of my vagina and was potent enough to
spontaneously and forcefully constrict every muscle in
my entire reproductive system on their abhorrent tool,
flailing its connected hoses against my open thighs.

Unable to control the cycling, intense muscular
reaction caused by the spikes of current across the
lips of my vulva and ripping through my lower abdomen,
I shrieked again and again in terror.  The light and
the jolts continued to cycle, about once every second,
and my violent involuntary rhythmical contractions
began to agitate my own cream inside that vessel firmly
seized within my tender passage.

"Whoa, lookit it go!"  The supervisor was soon joined
in his vicious laughter by his companions.  "I'd say
this little cunt jumps better than the regulars."

The malicious churning process continued for what
seemed an eternity, the apparatus continuing to chill
the mixture of extracted buttermilk and my luxuriant
cream as it was slowly being churned into butter by my
involuntary muscle spasms.  However, after a short
interval of this gross molestation the effect of the
freezing metal cylinder protruding from me combined
with the toxicity of the glue and the repeated spikes
of current coursing through my vagina completely numbed
my lower abdomen.  The result of these combined
torments dulled the pain from the bulky cylinder and
hoses extending from me and soothed the torture from
the cramping effect of the electrical shocks.  I
eventually felt nothing except the confining straps
restricting my movement as my body quickly advanced
into a state of exhaustion caused by the merciless
effect of the electrical pulses.

The three males, meanwhile, took considerable sadistic
pleasure in my ongoing struggle.  The small
refrigerator by the sink yielded a few six packs of
beer and they passed their time by lecherously enjoying
my rhythmical jerking of the cylinder which remained
tightly gripped in my besieged vaginal portal.  My
reflexive quaking caused the refrigerant hoses to snap
up and down between my spread open thighs and one of
their drinking diversions involved measuring the height
of each successive whip while cheering me on to show a
yet more intense contraction as if I were engaged in
some sort of heinous sports exhibition.  In spite of my
regular and frenzied thrashing, continuing in reaction
to the interminable pulses, their abhorrent electrodes
remained firmly clamped to the folds of my vulva.

From time to time throughout my continued session of
forced obscene labor, one of the males would make
adjustments to the refrigeration unit or check on the
tightness of my reflexive grip on their churning
cylinder still securely trapped inside me.  I was also
aware of them as they ran their crude hands over my
tortured body, stroking and squeezing my back, rear,
and exposed genitals while they discussed with one
another the strength of my muscle spasms.  Occasionally
one of them would take one of my nipples deep into his
mouth and extract yet another mouthful of rich
nourishment from one of my still fruitful breasts.  At
one point I recall another taking particular interest
in my small swollen clitoris, stroking it as it
rhythmically throbbed in cadence with the electrical
stimulations.

Meanwhile, the cleaning man had propped himself up on a
nearby table with one of the six packs where he could
survey this whole disgusting spectacle.  He just sat
there drinking and it seemed like whenever I would look
up he would be ogling me with wide eyes, grinning at me
while stroking his crotch with one hand and holding the
beer he was drinking with the other.

As for me, I didn't have the energy nor the capability
to react to any of their fondling or attention, being
totally absorbed by the incessant involuntarily
convulsions caused by the regular and continued violent
shocks.  In reality I was just concentrating on staying
awake, afraid that if I passed out from this horror I
might never regain consciousness.

Then, after what seemed to be an eternity, the pulses
stopped.  I took a deep breath just as the supervisor
started to twist and pull on the cylinder while he
attempted to break its adhesion to my vaginal tissues. 
While the numbness in my lower torso prevented his
labor from being painful, it was decidedly
uncomfortable as I could still sense the significant
pressure he was applying against my internal sexual
organs while he continued to struggle with the device. 
Finally he called to the mechanic for some advice who
in response dug into his toolbox and pulled out a spray
can of WD-40.

The mechanic disappeared with the spray can around the
bottom of the table and though my genitals remained
deeply anesthetized I could feel the coolness of the
spray on the inside of my thighs and smell the stuff
being sprayed on the device still firmly cemented deep
inside my vaginal conduit.  Helplessly lying there, I
began to grow more and more apprehensive that their
continued work at removing that churn device was
ultimately going to result in some kind of serious
injury to me.  Just then I felt the thing suddenly pop
loose from its bond.

While I was aware of its bulk as he slowly withdrew it
from my grossly distended birth canal, I was oblivious
to the electrodes as they were then yanked from the
flesh of my vulva.  Looking up from the table, I
watched the supervisor wipe off the remnants of blood
and adhesive from the steel cylinder.  Then he
unscrewed the top, revealing a small quantity of pale
white butter.

"Hey, come here and try this."  "Needs a little salt." 
I looked away in disgust as the three degenerate males
all shared small tastes of my own precious yield, a
product exclusively produced through the depraved and
protracted forced torture of my own fragile spirit and
being, and for what purpose I couldn't even imagine.

Without the chilling and electrical stimulus being
applied to my lower abdomen the numbness soon began to
wear off.  A dull throbbing ache just as quickly filled
its place, centering itself deep within my injured
sexual organs.  Shortly, the third man tightened the
strap around my waist and with my movement again
restricted to the table, he proceeded to crawl under me
to close the thing back up.

"Wait!"  The cleaning man who had been drinking the
most and only indirectly participating in my torment up
until then stepped over to the table, "Let me show ya
somethin'."  He began to once again drag some of the
larger boxes in under the table and I knew immediately
that I was about to be forced to suffer through yet
another dreadful humiliation.  Only this time I would
be raped in plain view of these other two men.

"Ya see?  First stack up some a these crates up an'
make yerself a li'l platform."  He was pretty clearly
drunk as he continued to move and stack crates below
me, "Okay, When ya stack up enough of 'em, you kin git
up here."

Climbing out from under the table he sat on one of the
many remaining boxes.  Not taking his eyes off of me,
he removed his shoes and socks, then stood up and
unzipped and peeled off his jumpsuit revealing his
hairy chest and fat beer belly.  Drunkenly standing
there in his underwear briefs, his growing erection
clearly outlined as it strained against that thin layer
of stained cotton, he looked even more like the gross
and disgusting pig he was.  Soon I became nauseous,
closing my eyes and turning my head away from them as
the thought of my vagina accommodating that repulsive
lump of flesh finally began to sink in.

With the other two males laughing and encouraging him
to "go for it," I began to feel and smell him once more
scuffing his way against my bare skin while he crawled
face up onto the boxes which he had just dragged under
the table.  My movement still severely restricted, all
I could do was twist in my straps as he scraped and
pushed against my spread open pussy, rudely shoving his
legs up between my thighs.  He quickly pulled down his
underwear and I subsequently could feel his erect penis
poking against the soft skin of my tummy.

Then he reached down, grasped his hardened shaft and
forcibly jammed the thing between my spread open
thighs, maneuvering it between the still vulnerable and
exposed lips of my awaiting reproductive organs.  Being
so exhausted I barely resisted him as he poked it
around my waiting vulva, still lewdly spread open from
its earlier rending and then I only let out a small cry
as he finally managed to penetrate the agonized tissue
of my savagely injured vaginal opening.  Large enough
to be uncomfortable, his engorged penis felt warm and
not nearly as bulky as that cylinder thing which had
been forced into me earlier, and my moaning continued
in a quiet protest to its rhythmical stroking as his
member chafed and ground at the remnants of the
congealed adhesive still trapped within my vagina.

"She's really juicy," the cleaning man commented.  The
thrusting power of his strong rhythmical movement
wrenched me in my straps but I was really too fatigued
and sore to put up much resistance while I continued to
unwillingly bear him inside of me.

The other two men who were watching all this indignity
unfold had seated themselves on the pile of crates and
were counting in time with the cleaning man's pelvic
thrusts as he cheerfully raped me.  Eventually it
became apparent that they were counting the man's
strokes and I came to the realization that this
monstrous ugly male was going to come inside my tired
body and there was absolutely nothing I could do about
it.  By now the other two were betting with each other
how many times it would take before "I made him come"
and settling on the number fifty, their attentions soon
changed to cheering both the cleaning man and me to
either prolong or intensify his sexual drive and
exertion so that one or the other would win.

Finding all of this so extremely revolting, I only
worked at trying to blot them all out of my mind while
the  cleaning man continued with his degenerate
assault.  I was not very successful and by the number
thirty he began lunging deeper and harder into me,
pounding his sexual organ against the top of my already
painfully tender vagina.  This caused the other men to
begin applauding which in turn convinced the cleaning
man to propel himself into me even more strenuously.

He didn't let up at this accelerated pace until they
got to about forty-five when he suddenly slowed to half
speed and began to grunt with every pelvic stroke,
driving himself into me with deep ferocious thrusts. 
These continued until number fifty-two when he forced
his penis as deep as he could into me, literally
lifting me off the table, the lower half of my torso
suspended in the air, held up solely by that rigid
pulsating stake driven into my vagina.  He continued to
make grunting sounds, his whole body tensely quivering
and holding me in the air for several seconds while I
could feel him ejaculate an abundant load of semen into
my uterus, filling me with his disgusting reproductive
juices.  After a few seconds his whole body seemed to
collapse and the man began to gasp for breath.

"Whoa, that was great!" the supervisor exclaimed,
finishing his beer.  "I win and you owe me a beer."

"Yeah," the mechanic responded, "You would think a nice
little tight cunt hole like that could do better than
fifty."

The two males then picked up the now empty cream
container, a newly filled container of my buttermilk,
the cylinder containing my freshly churned butter and
the toolbox.  Leaving the room, the mechanic slapped my
rear as he walked past, "Well, look at it this way tiny
tits, it's all in a day's work."  Too expended to move
I didn't respond.

The cleaning man's penis which by now had grown
considerably softer was still inside me and he began to
slowly stroke it in and out of my now very wet vagina
as the fluid seemed to slowly drain out of me, past his
softening appendage and soaking my pubic hair with his
sticky excretion.  He laid there for a while, pinching
my nipples and laughing at my pained responses until
apparently he had enough.  Withdrawing his flaccid
organ from me, he moved himself off the platform while
I squirmed as little as I could in response to his
rubbing against my tender skin.   I did give a small
shriek as he, dismounting from the platform, shoved his
knee into my tender raw vulva.  "Shit, you got my knee
all dirty with cum," he exclaimed.  "Gonna hafta clean
you up."  Although I felt so dirty at that point, as
much body odor as he had I wished he would just clean
himself up and leave me alone.

I could hear him as he brushed the lumpy excretion from
his knee, got dressed, removed the crates from beneath
the table and placed the used hoses and utensils on a
utility cart.  He then hooked up a short water hose to
a mop sink on the wall near the table and picking up a
bar of soap from the sink turned the hose on me.

I gave a small surprised shriek, shivering from the
cold water spraying on my naked form.  Rinsing with one
hand he lathered me with the soap in the other, first
my arms, over my back, my breasts and tummy, loosening
the waist strap and reaching in between me and the
table.  Throughout the process I did manage to get
enough clean water in my mouth to somewhat appease my
growing thirst.  He then worked his way down my thighs
and legs to my feet.

Standing at the bottom of the table he directed the
hose at my still spread open genitals, "Gotta git you
real clean."  I again shrieked, tugging in my straps
from the force of the cold water on my tender scoured
flesh.  I continued to scream and lurch as his rough
hand jabbed the soap bar into my vulva and ground it
against my raw tissue creating a lather which filled my
sexual organs.  The soap stinging in the still open
tears around my vaginal opening apparently caused me to
unconsciously contract the lips of my vulva while I
tried to gyrate my pelvis in a vain effort to escape
his cruel assault.

Observing my strenuous reaction he surmised, "You want
me to clean in there too, huh?"  He obligingly turned
the water on to a hard stream and jabbed the metal hose
fitting directly into me, burying it deep within my
vagina.  My response was to let loose a series of
piercing screams at him while I vigorously squirmed,
feeling the torrent of cold water spurting on my cervix
and filling my entire reproductive system.  Not knowing
what was happening to myself I continued to wildly
thrash in my restraints from the sensation of the
pressure of the streaming water expanding my uterine
tissue until it overflowed back into my vagina, the
water jetting out through my lacerated vaginal slit,
spraying my vulva and thighs with the cold waste from
my genitals.

"Oh, wow!" the man exclaimed, stepping back from my
screaming flailing body.  "I didn't think it would do
that!"  He just stood there, watching me endure my
private horror for some time before finally yanking the
water hose from inside me.  I screamed one last loud
cry in reaction to the hose fitting scraping through my
inflamed and butchered vaginal aperture before it
dropped to the floor.  Trying to catch my breath and
with my heart pounding within my chest I quietly laid
there, crying from the bout of terror I had just
experienced as the small reservoir of water contained
within me slowly trickled through my sexual opening,
soothing the pain of my desecration and creating a
small puddle of pink water on the floor.  I remained
too fatigued to move as he finished mopping, patiently
waiting until my genitals were finally emptied of their
contents before cleaning underneath my table.

Finally he closed up the mechanism, causing me to
softly moan as my legs were brought back together. 
Firmly slapping me on the rear I really didn't
understand him when he said, "Yer as clean as a new
whistle.  Hell, looks like you gotta job.  'Least 'til
the Arabs show up."  He then grabbed the utility cart
and left the room.  Exhausted and still crying I
swiftly fell into a deep sleep.

EPISODE 6

I next awakened from the sound of someone again opening
the heavy metal entry door.  Still strapped to the
table in the same large windowless room as before, my
entire body, especially my private areas, ached with
incredible soreness following my last bout of depraved
torments.

I didn't even bother to look up to see who it was.  I
figured that there wasn't anything I could do anyway
but wait for him to open up the table I was on and use
me for whatever pleasure he decided I could give him. 
The man walked over to the my table, "Guess they got
enough outta your little tits for today.  Well you're
done with your eight hour shift."

Eight hours!  It felt as if the past eight hours had
been more like an eternity.

He was the man who had administered my injection and
first brought me here to this chamber of abomination
and was probably the only one left in this entire
prison who had yet to physically violate me in some
way.  His hand ran down my back and over my rear. 
While I clearly felt his vile caress I was still too
pained and exhausted to respond.

"I guess I missed quite a little party last night," he
continued.  "You sure made a hit with the boss."  One
by one he released my straps but knowing that I was
once again about to be violently raped and afraid of
reprisals or further molestation by him if I did
something which he might have ruled to be in violation
of some new obscene regulation I was too terrified to
move.

He must have taken notice of my panic since he
responded, "Look cutie, if you're worried about getting
anything from those guys, don't.  Everybody around here
is checked regularly including the staff.  And there's
no chance of you getting pregnant.  Those hormone shots
I gave ya will take care of that."

With all the lecherous cruelty I had been subjected to
over the past few hours that was at least some good
news.  I still had been unable to reconcile myself to
the thought that I might at that moment be somehow
bearing those monsters' offspring.  But then the
alternative that I was apparently destined to become
their torture toy and recreational sex vessel was also
too disgusting a thought for me to comprehend.

He paused and then added, "Oh I get what's spookin' ya. 
Look, you're a pretty little thing, but I'll be honest,
see, I'm not particularly interested in pretty little
girls.  So we're just going back over to B-wing.  Okay? 
Let's go."

He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me off the table
onto my feet.  I hadn't realized just how incredibly
sore I was until I tried to stand up but I was at least
very grateful to find that I hadn't been bleeding or
anything.  I then followed him as he gripped my arm and
led me from the room although the inflamed tenderness
of my genitals made that somewhat arduous at first.  In
spite of my infirmity we entered a hallway brightly lit
by a row of fluorescent fixtures and passed through a
set of double doors and then continued through the
intersection of hallways occupied by the security
counter turning to the right through the swinging
double door marked "B-Wing".  I recognized the hall
lined with several doors with small windows and he
stopped in front of one of them, took a key from the
ring on his belt, opened the door and nudged me in.

The room, considerably warmer than the large chamber I
had just left, was quite dark and I once again found
myself alone.  With my eyes slowly adapting to the tiny
amount of light coming through the small window in the
door I could see that it contained two cots.  One of
them had a small pillow but neither had any sheets or
blankets.  There was also a small table, a sink and a
toilet.  This cell became my home.  During my
confinement there I was at least minimally cared for
and allowed some sleep each day, but usually only after
I had first cried myself into a state of exhaustion,
mourning over my condition and wishing that I was dead. 
In spite of the fact that I slept most of the time, all
the while I was there it seemed like I was in a
constant state of fatigue and perpetual thirst.

It turned out that the mechanic was actually a doctor
and he had a whole laboratory and examination room set
up in the building where we lived.  Each week I was
taken there and given a through health exam, the first
of which was very, very complete.   While that first
check up was also a bit uncomfortable it did make me
feel somewhat better when he confirmed I wasn't
pregnant or diseased and I hadn't received any serious
injuries from my first night of torture.  Eventually,
after a week or two, the soreness in my genitals
subsided.

Of course I was still led off, once each evening, every
evening, to the cold dairy chamber where I received my
customary injection of the hormonal serum, stimulating
my increasingly tender mammary glands, and milked. 
Through this process I was also attached to monitors
which recorded my blood pressure, pulse, respiration
and temperature but after about a week or so I was no
longer alone.  The other tables were soon filled with
additional women who, like myself, were cared for and
suffered the same daily harvest of their human
nourishment.

From time to time some of the women were compelled to
suffer a little more.  Almost every evening I witnessed
one or another of my companions work the vaginal butter
churn.  Being less petite they seemed somewhat more
adept in fully accommodating the abhorrent device
although until the numbing sensation I too had
experienced finally set in, their shrieks from the
terror of the object's invasion into their private
organs caused me to re-experience my own ghastly
session with the thing.  Fortunately for me, and spite
of my apparently productive experience with the device,
it seemed the guards preferred choosing among the
taller and more physically developed women to press
into the service of performing the daily butter
churning chore.

One evening while we were all passively engaged in our
regular milking session the large guard entered the
chamber with four well dressed Oriental businessmen. 
To their great amusement, he demonstrated the butter
churning process on one of the women and after she was
fully involved in that torture process he approached
the table next to my own.  I watched in horror while he
patted its bound, newly arrived occupant on the rear
and then pulling a roll of wide adhesive tape out of
his pocket he tore off a long piece and put it over her
mouth.  Then he crawled under the table and activated
its mechanism, spreading open her legs to him.  She had
experienced particular distress with the milking
process earlier that evening and now found herself
being viciously raped by the giant guard.  Appalled by
this exhibition taking place right next to me I tightly
closed my eyes, attempting not to see or hear his
latest victim sobbing in terror from the guard's brutal
assault.

At his suggestion and encouraged by his incredible
depravity, each of the businessmen began to choose one
of us women to rape as well.  Soon enough an overweight
older man was working at the mechanism on my table and
finally he found the switch which opened it up,
completely exposing my genitals to him.  He didn't
waste much time opening his pants and pulling out his
swollen organ which he immediately began to grind into
the crack of my pussy until it finally penetrated my
vaginal opening and he was in me.  My pain and
humiliation from his raping me was only tempered by the
fact that I wasn't alone as he continued to grunt and
pound his penis against the top of my vagina, I could
plainly see the same thing happening to all the other
women in the room.

That spectacle continued for some time.  The first
young woman screaming and screaming through her gagged
mouth, flailing on the table from the pain ripping
through her genitals from the butter churn she was
enduring, against the backdrop of the room full of
suction cups still straining on the breasts of the
other women around her, all silently sharing in her
torture and all being simultaneously brutally raped
themselves by the degenerate men.

Then, one by one, each of them came.  I felt the man in
me tense and then exhale as he released his load of
semen into my body.  Soon after he pulled out of me and
eventually I was taken off the machine and led to the
showers where I was allowed to clean myself off, and
later to my cell where I cried myself to sleep.

The only one who really continued to bother us was the
big guard.  Almost every evening he would choose one of
the women who he would take to his room and then the
next morning she would be returned to her cell usually
with bruises, whip marks and other signs of violence. 
I never again saw the cleaning man who had first
ravaged my innocence and it seemed that most all the
other males were more interested in one another than us
women.  Once in a while a stranger would appear at our
cell doors or sometimes come through the dairy during
our milking session.  Like the Oriental businessmen,
these guests were allowed to do most anything to us in
the dairy and at least a couple of them had intercourse
there.  Usually they were also given one of us women
for an evening but it seemed that, like the with guard,
I was just never their type.

Overall our living conditions could be best described
as some sort of cross between a prison and a farm.  The
males would refer to us as animals and we were
generally dealt with as livestock whose only value was
in what we could produce from our breasts.  Our lives
were completely controlled from the time we were
awakened until the lights were put out in our small
cells.  We were fed portion controlled meals of what
looked like some sort of thick stew which the guard
told me was high in vitamins, calcium and protein so I
would produce better milk.  I guess that is also why we
were given all the bottled water we wanted and being
constantly thirsty I must have consumed at least a
gallon of it a day.

The strangest thing about our confinement was while we
weren't in any way treated like human beings, the males
seemed very concerned with our health and physical
appearance.  We were given daily showers and had access
to whole assortments of soaps, shampoos, conditioners,
and cosmetics.  I was also given an exercycle and was
required to use it at least one half hour each day.  We
were required to trim our fingernails and toenails,
keep our hair up, shave our legs and do all those
things one would associate with being a woman but at
the same time we were forced to live a regimen which
only seemed designed to extinguish our human spirit.

After a period of time I became convinced that I had
brought all of this upon myself.  I know it sounds
strange but I was actually beginning to think that I
deserved what was happening to me as a punishment for
having run away from home.  Somehow, through my own
feelings of shame, I came to believe that these men
were justified in raping and sexually abusing me.  It
was a feeling that I believe was shared by the other
women as well.  I didn't understand the sexual
intimidation we were forced to endure but figured that
men will be men and while they were doing carnal things
to my body they were at least taking care of me,
feeding me and giving me a place to sleep.  The things
they were doing to me might be kind of perverted but it
wasn't really seriously injuring me in any way and I
came to see it as just my way of paying for the room
and board I was being given.

After a few weeks, beginning to get accustomed to my
routine even to the point of accepting my state of
involuntary nudity around the males, I was surprised
one morning as my pattern was interrupted by the sound
of approaching voices.  "The American is right in here
general.  She's a bit young and small but she's the
same price as the others."

Straightening up at the sound of the keys in the lock I
sat on my cot facing the door.  Terrified at the
thought of what new indignities might next be inflicted
on me, I knew that any added resistance would not only
be futile but would certainly lead to more of their
extreme discipline.  The door opened and the supervisor
stood in the doorway and ordered, "Get up.  You have a
guest."  He then stepped aside allowing the man to
enter my cell and then closed the door again.

The man was stocky, not a great deal taller than me,
unshaven with a large dark mustache and wore a khaki
army uniform with two stars on each of his shoulders. 
Speaking in surprisingly good English, he inquired
while assessing my naked physique, "I hear you are
American.  Know any Americans who fought in the War of
International Aggression against the people of Iraq?"

I remained quiet, backing away from him and covering
the intimate parts of my body as best I could with my
arms and hands.

"I knew many," he continued with increasing intensity,
"and my men suffered greatly at the hands of you Yankee
pigs."  He moved over to me and I could feel his heavy
breath on my shoulders.  Suddenly, he grabbed my jaw
with his large rough hand and forced open my mouth,
pushing me down on my knees in front of him.  Peering
into my throat and moving my head from side to side he
inspected my teeth while quietly grunting approval of
his new acquisition.

Releasing my jaw, his coarse hand slid down the front
of my naked body and pushing my hand out of the way he
continued to move it along my bare skin until he was
holding the mound of my pussy.  Placing his other hand
on my shoulder he then effortlessly lifted me to my
feet.  Trapped between his two large hands I bit my
lip, moaning while he crudely fingered my vulva,
exploring around in it until he inevitably found the
aperture to my vagina.  Jamming his finger through my
tender slit I let out a scream as his continued savage
probing of my vaginal passage went deeper and deeper
into me until he was finally poking at my cervix.

"Come over here," he ordered.  "I want to see you
better."

With his finger still fully entrenched inside me, he
pulled me and I followed him, walking on my toes across
the cell, helpless to resist.  Then sitting on the
empty cot with me facing him, he immediately began to
manipulate the lips of my vulva as he continued his
visual inspection of my genitals.  At the same time his
other hand firmly seized one of my buttocks, preventing
me from squirming away from his view.

A knot formed in my stomach as is finger located my
clitoris.  Taking notice of my reaction he began to
stroke it and looking up at me he laughed, "See little
plaything?  Life with my soldiers won't be so bad.  You
have apparently been around more than your innocent
little face would lead me to believe."

I quickly looked away from him.  What did he know about
the sexual brutalities I had been unwillingly subjected
to in this prison?  Who was he to condemn me?

I could feel his eyes still looking at me as he ran his
hand up my nude body grasping one of my full breasts. 
Squeezing it, small droplets of my milk obligingly
appeared on the nipple.

"What's this?" he inquired.

He ran his finger across my moistened nipple and then
to his lips, tasting my creamy yield.  He paused, still
quizzically looking at me and then his hands grabbed my
shoulders, pulling my right breast into his mouth.  His
tongue massaging my nipple I could feel myself yielding
my precious nourishment into his waiting throat as he
suckled.  Keeping one hand firmly on my shoulder his
other hand again moved down to my waiting pussy.  I
screamed as he crudely jabbed two of his fingers deep
into my vagina and began to stroke them in and out of
me as he worked on my breast.  I tensed not knowing
what he was up to, feeling his thumb divide my lips as
he then began to massage my clitoris now becoming more
pronounced in response to his continued ravishing of my
arrested nude body.

After a time he switched to the other breast, working
it until it too surrendered more of me into his vulgar
mouth and then finally, as my milk began to thin, he
stopped.  Leaning back and wiping his moist fingers on
my pubic hair and again inspecting my naked person,
"You know, you're just a hell of a little entertainment
center all wrapped up in one little package.  I've got
some good ideas for you.  You're going to provide the
most fun I've had with an American in a long, long
time."

He got up, walked to the door and shouted, "Ready to
come out!"  Then he turned and stared at me, "I would
really have liked to fuck you, but since last night
I've had so many..."

The returning supervisor opened the door and the
general said to him as he left the room, "I'll take
her.  Put her on the plane."

The doctor, who had been with the supervisor, turned to
him as they closed the door to my cell and followed the
general down the hallway, "Oh shit!  You didn't sell
the little one did ya?  It was her turn to churn the
butter tonight!"

EPISODE 7

Later that same morning the supervisor returned to my
cell and administered another sedative to me.  I
quickly fell unconscious and was apparently loaded
along with the other sold captives aboard the general's
waiting plane.  When I awoke I found myself in a large
prison cell with three other women.  All three were
quite attractive young Latin Americans and like myself
each had been issued a white cotton robe and we were
also no longer wearing our plastic collars.  One of the
women I recognized from the island prison but the
others I had never seen before.  As it turned out, one
of the other two was quite conversant in English and so
the four of us prisoners proceeded to quietly become
acquainted.

It felt so strange and so refreshing to be able to talk
again.  It actually took a while before I had my voice
back since I hadn't dared to say a word for several
weeks but hearing our voices fill that chamber and
bounce off the walls gave me so much strength in
knowing that I wouldn't have to face the males alone
any longer.

The two I didn't know had been working as call girls in
Bogota and knew each other before being sent to the
island.  Their crime was that they had decided to run
away from their pimp but he managed to catch up with
them before they could get out of the country.  He
locked them up for a few days and then turned them over
to a couple of men who drugged them and sent them to
the island.  They weren't too cooperative in responding
to their "reconditioning treatments" and each of them
spent a considerable amount of time in the guard's
bedroom with his collection of sexual torture devices. 
They told me about some of the things the guard did to
them in his room, things that made my experiences with
him seem pretty tame.

The third woman had been working as a dancer in Buenos
Aries but she was told that she would have to sleep
with the customers if she wanted to keep her job.  She
tried to find another job as a dancer somewhere else in
the city and was lured to trust a stranger who promised
her modeling work in the United States.  The last thing
she remembered after boarding a charter plane was
waking up on the island.  She was conscripted to work
in the dairy and that was where I witnessed her being
raped by the guard about a week before.

Actually, all four of us had been raped by the large
brutal guard and all but myself had been forced to have
intercourse with the Iraqi general.  The two call girls
figured that since they hadn't been sent back to Bogota
we had become what the males called disposables.  That
meant that we had all been permanently sold to the
general and would probably see neither the island nor
our homes ever again.  It also meant that we all faced
a very uncertain future.  None of us were exactly sure
of where we were or why we were there, but we all
agreed that we were fated to become some sort of sex
slaves for various members of the Iraqi army.

The third woman and I each expressed our dread of what
might happen to us but the two prostitutes acted pretty
calm and they began to give us some advice.  First they
told us to try to relax and try not to think about what
they were going to do to you.  Pretend that your body
is someone else's, that they are not raping you but
someone else or even something else.  One of them told
us that whenever she was with a man she found
particularly repulsive, she just pretended that he was
screwing a cantaloupe she was holding between her legs. 
Most of all they repeated that you should not allow
them get to you and again, whatever you do, don't let
yourself tense up.  It all goes easier when you're
relaxed and soon enough the males will discharge their
semen, get tired, and then lose interest in you and
just leave you alone.  If you fight them, they will
certainly fight back, and they are almost always
bigger, stronger and when sexually aroused, very
inclined to become violent.

While their advice helped some, I remained terrified of
the carnal violations I fully expected were in store
for me.  Still I couldn't imagine what other obscene
tortures could possibly be inflicted on my small person
that I hadn't yet experienced.  I was about to find
out.

Hearing the door open at the end of the row of cells we
grew silent.  Two men appeared at the bars in front of
our cell.  One had a rifle and the other a large ring
of keys which he used to unlock and slide open the
heavy steel bar door.  He spoke to us in broken
English, "Come with me.  Go to brothel now."  We all
got up from our cots and without complaint walked to
the door.

The soldier with the rifle stood by the door allowing
the three other women to pass but blocked my exit. 
"You stay,"  he said to me as he grabbed the collar of
the robe I was wearing and in one swift motion stripped
it off my back.  I said nothing but attempting to cover
my modesty stepped back into the cell.  The guard
slammed the cell door closed and leading the others,
passed down the corridor, exiting through the solid
metal door.

I moved back to my bare cot to sit.  It was quiet for a
short while and I began watching the roaches scurry
back and forth across the stone floor until the door
opened again.  The general I had met earlier was this
time accompanied a group of ten rugged Arab soldiers
who approached the cell and stood in the corridor
staring at my naked female form while a murmur of lust
circulated throughout the group.

"Stand up!" the general ordered.

I slowly rose from my cot, facing the bars and the
peering males beyond, attempting to conceal my breasts
and pussy as best I could with my hands and arms.

"Put your arms down!" he again shouted.

I slowly lowered my arms to my sides.  My action was
received with obvious grunts of approval by the
soldiers who jostled with one another to get a better
view of my exposed defenseless body.

"I want you to meet some of my men," the general began. 
"They were my soldiers in the war you Americans
inflicted upon us.  They were the only survivors of an
entire convoy attacked by American planes.  When they
heard I had found a real American girl in my travels,
they wanted so much to meet you.  I brought them along
so that you could all get better acquainted."

He slipped the key into the door of the cell, unlocked
it, and strolled out of the corridor closing the heavy
metal door behind him.  I remained motionless,
breathing heavily, my heart pounding in my chest,
really unable to move out of an overwhelming sense of
terror as I watched the ten males beyond the bars who
in turn continued to silently stare at my nakedness. 
We all knew what was going to happen.  I could see in
their eyes that they were not going to be content with
just raping me but they were planning to revenge the
deaths of each of their friends on my sexual organs and
then if I wasn't already dead they were going to kill
me.

Eventually one of the men slowly opened the door to the
cell and entered.  I backed away from him and continued
doing so until I could feel the cold stone wall against
my naked back.  Following me, he reached out and began
to run his harsh hand over my soft skin.  I quivered in
response and he laughed.  His enjoyment inspired the
other nine to also enter the cell and in a short time
my body was the center of all of their physical
attention.  The hands that were not somewhere in me,
ripping at my genitals and anus, were on my person
savagely stroking my naked flesh.  Completely
forgetting the advice the prostitutes had given me, I
began fighting back and shrieking from the ensuing
brawl that seemed to have broken out over who would
have access to my sexuality.  Very soon I found myself
shoved down onto one of the small cots in the room
laying on my back with my hips and legs hanging over
the edge, held up by the men who were persistently
ravaging me.

I guess it was inevitable that eventually one of them
would find his way to one of my breasts and begin to
ferociously suck on it.  While without the continuance
of my daily hormone treatments it was incapable of
producing the quantities of milk it had previously, his
assault stimulated my freshly aroused mammary glands to
yield a small amount of fluid into his mouth.  The man
cheered with delight at his unexpected discovery and
soon each of the males was fighting for his own stint
at my now erect nipples.

While never experiencing a respite from their stroking
penetrations into my lower abdomen, I tolerated each of
the males fighting for an opportunity to pleasure
himself at my quickly depleting chest until finally the
tenth man managed to battle his way on top of me.  He
was small, about my height, but seemed to make up for
his slight build by an extremely vile temper.  Finding
my young breasts already emptied of their sustenance he
became enraged.  His maniacal behavior caused the other
men to back away from me as I wailed from his pinching
and biting on my tender nipples which he continued to
violently persecute for refusing to supply their
succulent treasure to him.

Suddenly the man stopped cursing at me for not having
enough milk for him and looking straight into my eyes
shouted something to the assembled mob while I watched
him jab one of his fingers into my vagina.  I moaned as
he crammed a second finger through my slit, again
shouting another word to his spellbound audience. 
Quickly dawning on me that he was counting fingers to
them I screamed with each new intrusion as one by one
he methodically squeezed each of them into my tender
passage.  Reaching the thumb the degenerate male
proceeded to persistently twist and force his hand,
constantly wriggling his five digits, pressing them
deeper and deeper into my reproductive organs.

Attempting to escape his aberrant invasion I squirmed
on my behind across the cot pleading for him to stop. 
Finally I found myself half sitting, helplessly trapped
against the cold stone wall and coming to the sudden
realization that I now had no other option except to
submit to his deranged torture.

Finding his fingers, by now fully buried within me up
to his knuckles, tightly binding against my taut
opening he then began to spit on his hand seeking to
lubricate its advance.  Strangely enough this seemed to
work and his entire hand slowly began to slide into me. 
My eyes now glued to his violent incursion I grabbed
his forearm, vainly tugging against it while at the
same time witnessing more and more of him slowly
disappear inside my abdomen. 

While I was amazed at the flexibility of my vaginal
opening in accepting his limb there was no pause in my
piercing cries in response to the increasing stress on
my tortured body.  My terror was generated as much from
my anxiety of being severely mutilated by his
incomprehensible intentions as from the reality of the
steadily intensifying pressure on my straining intimate
tissue.  By this time several of the other men were
leaning over my spread open legs all cheering his
progress and joining him in spitting on his hand and my
lewdly displayed vaginal opening which was dripping
with their combined saliva.

My screeching climaxed from the final thrust of his
arm, pushing me back on the cot and literally tearing
through my intimate flesh as he forcefully buried his
hand deep within my body, closing it into a tight fist. 
I writhed in torment, still shrieking both from the
intense physical agony as well as the atrocity of
observing the bulge of his fist stretching the skin of
my smooth flat tummy from within me while he began to
stroke his clenched fist back and forth, savagely
distending my vaginal canal.  The other men backed
away, observing this spectacle and laughing at the
panicked reaction of their young American victim.  My
perpetrator joined them in their revelry, pounding his
fist into me with renewed maniacal glee.  Meanwhile,
racked with torment from his perverse entertainment, I
continued to writhe in a futile attempt to free myself
from him.

Finally after what seemed an eternity, the man who had
first entered the cell stepped forward and removed the
other man's now bloody forearm and fist from my vagina. 
Moaning from the intensely aching soreness which
lingered in my genitals I did not even notice the man
opening his robe, exposing his erect penis to the
gathering as I collapsed on my back, momentarily
resting on the small cot.

The other men began shouting again and I looked up just
as he began to crawl up on my naked abused torso, his
erection dangling beneath him.  It might seem strange
to admit that even after being raped several times on
the island and now after having been sexually
brutalized in this prison cell, I had honestly never
actually seen a man's penis before.  I'm not certain
what I had expected but the one I found myself looking
at seemed about six or seven inches long and about an
inch and a half in diameter.  The testicles dangling
from its base looked like two wrinkled leathery pouches
sewn together and much softer than the rigid throbbing
shaft above them which likewise originated from an
undergrowth of pubic hair covering the male's groin. 
The blunt end of the penis had what looked like a soft
pink cap, its top crowned with a small vertical slit
opening, appearing moist as if it were already
preparing for an imminent eruption of its seminal load. 
Maybe it was just the light in the cell but the tightly
stretched flesh covering the shaft seemed much darker
than the man's other skin, appearing an odd almost blue
color.  It wasn't like I didn't know what one was
supposed to look like, I had after all aced my health
class in high school, but in the flesh that grotesque
thing appeared so strangely sinister and out of place
like it wasn't really a part of the male crawling on
top of me but more like it was some sort of freakish
alien appendage growing out of his groin.

He easily penetrated my open vulva, raping me in what
seemed to be a fit of frenzy.  Each of his forceful
lunges was met with a cheer from the other men and a
groan from me, the only response I could muster from
his constant abrasion against my tender butchered
vaginal flesh.

The exhibition did not last long.  The man soon wrapped
his arms around my small frame and squeezed me against
his crotch as he filled me with his semen, crowning his
last few thrusts.  Withdrawing his spent organ he
squeezed the remaining cum into my pubic hair, rubbing
it in with the head of his penis.  Quickly jostled
aside he was replaced by another of the males who began
to repeat the ritual.

Perhaps it was a result of the stress brought on by the
brutal invasion of the man's fist I had endured but in
retrospect his attack wasn't that much more
excruciating than my earlier prolonged ordeal with the
butter churn device.  Perhaps it was the tension on my
psyche from being assaulted by ten different barbaric
males, not knowing what each one might expect of my
over-fatigued body.  Perhaps it was just that my
endurance was simply wearing thin after what was now
weeks of torture, hormonal treatments, starvation,
sleep deprivation, and an overwhelming denial of
personal dignity.  Whatever the cause, I could somehow
sense myself watching my own petite defenseless body
savagely raped by this mob of demented soldiers.

Actually all I could see of myself was my legs, spread
apart and embracing a male trunk furiously pulsating on
top of me.  My small torso remained lost beneath the
male's naked charging buttocks.  I watched as each of
them drove his lust deep into my being, pounding me
with pelvic thrusts focused on the few square inches of
tubular receptacle located between my exposed thighs
which was temporarily accommodating his manhood,
filling the place I once considered my most private
with his pasty male excretion.  Now it seemed just one
more part of my helpless, ravaged, exhausted person.

One by one, each of the gang proceeded to satisfy his
own lust by deriving pleasure from my inflamed genitals
and meager reaction to their ongoing ceaseless
persecution.  One preferred me on my hands and knees
rather than my back but in general they were not
particularly inventive.  Another of them, not satisfied
with the looseness of my freshly distended vagina,
decided to satisfy his bestial lechery by driving his
erection into my tighter anal aperture.  The time
dragged by while I continued to endure the cycle of
penetration, violent thrusting and the eventual pumping
into my internal organs of more of their cold sticky
reproductive filth.

Moving me from the cot, the last man, the same one who
had thrust his fist into me earlier, decided to lash my
wrists together and with the help of his fellow
gangsters, hung me from a ceiling beam in the cell.  He
then satisfied himself standing, facing me, holding my
legs apart and slobbering his lips over my face while
he maliciously defiled me with his engorged penis. 
Once finished, he withdrew his spent organ, leaving my
limp body hanging from the ceiling while little
riverlets of the horde's semen now blended with the
blood of my own desecration, drained from me, running
down my leg and creating a small pink puddle on the
floor.

The first man by this time had passed out cigars to the
others and the cell was becoming filled with the
nauseating odor of cheap tobacco.  The tenth man taking
his cigar in his mouth and lighting it, took another to
offer to his exhausted naked victim.  I only groaned in
response, turning my head away from him while
attempting to somehow compose myself following this
last strenuous bout of sexual torture.

The man laughed and reaching in his pocket pulled out a
small handkerchief.  This he knotted around the lit
cigar which he took from his mouth and then spreading
my legs apart jabbed it up into my vagina.  I screamed
and thrashed in an attempt to shake it loose from me
but the knot, having been securely driven far enough up
into my body, prevented it from falling out.  I watched
in panic as the men took great delight in my struggle
with their hideous memento as they left my cell,
pointing at their penises and then at the cigar as if
to say that now I had one of my own, laughing and
exiting through the door at the end of the hall.

At first I was afraid of burning my thighs on the still
lit cigar, feeling the heat from its glow while its hot
acrid smoke filled my inner organs.  Still wriggling to
rid it from my body I became aware that the lit portion
was getting steadily closer to my vulva.  Several
minutes passed with me tied to that beam, screaming as
loudly as I could for help, and closely watching the
cigar as the burning tobacco moved ceaselessly closer
to my delicate skin.  Then, the heat of the cigar
becoming intense, I let out a series of penetrating
shrieks in reaction to the smell of my burning pubic
hair.  It must have been those piercing yells that
finally brought a response from my captors as I heard
the metal door clang open at the end of the hall.  The
general again appeared.

"Please!  Please!  Help me!" I entreated.

"Looks like you've had quite a rough day's work.  So,"
he calmly asked, "did you enjoy my men?"

"Help me!" I cried again.

"I said, did you enjoy my men?!"  he shouted back at
me.

Broken and now crying I responded, "Yes.  Yes, I
enjoyed them.  Please help me."

Walking over to me he reached down and jerked the
burning cigar from me, letting it drop to the floor. 
Looking away from him, I winced but didn't make a
sound.

"Well," he said finally, "I must give you credit.  I
didn't think you'd last this long.  Got good news for
you though.  I've figured that my men, enjoyable though
they are, are just going to eventually end up killing
you.  But I found out that you're worth something much
more to me, you see?  I can use you to repay some
favors, my little American princess, even in your
rather spoiled condition.  What do you think?  Do you
want to stay here and entertain my men?  Huh?"

I slowly shook my head no.

"Good.  Good choice.  Good choice."   He reached up and
cut the rope holding me to the ceiling beam and I
collapsed into the puddle of cold pink seminal fluid
beneath me on the stone floor.  "I suggest you get
yourself cleaned up.  Here's your robe and a towel. 
There's water in the sink and last time I checked, that
latrine was still working over there.  We're not
barbarians you know."  Turning to leave he added, "And
clean this place up while you're at it.  It looks a
mess."  Closing the cell he left though the metal door
at the end of the hall.

EPISODE 8

After the general left I had managed to clean myself
and most of that filthy cell before an army medic
unexpectedly appeared to take a look at me.  He was
kind and gentle, even apologetic, as he examined me. 
Speaking in reasonably good English he attempted to
make excuses for what the soldiers had done but I
really wasn't interested in listening to him.  They
were after all just men, sick men, who had been
persuaded to express their unfortunate war experiences
by sexually brutalizing my body.  If anyone was guilty
it was the general or probably even my own self for
stimulating them in a sexual way instead of reasoning
with them or cooperating with them like the prostitutes
had warned me to do.

He went on to advise me that while there was some torn
tissue and a considerable amount of abrasion in my
genitals there was really no need for stitches.  So
completing his examination, he gave me a dose of some
kind of pills for birth control, some medication to
prevent infection along with something else to dull the
pain and left me alone.  As soon as he was gone I
literally collapsed from exhaustion.

I eventually awoke from the sound of someone entering
the corridor.  My entire small body was still throbbing
with soreness.  Having no idea how much time had passed
I straightened myself up, closing the cotton robe I had
been provided with, and took a deep breath.  The door
opened and a man entered, partly closing it behind him. 
He was a very well-dressed Oriental man wearing an
expensive pin stripe silk business suit.

He looked at me briefly and began, "Miss?" and then he
said my name, my full name.  "I had heard you were very
lovely and I see you are indeed a beautiful young
lady."  He cleared his throat and continued, "I will be
brief and to the point.  Your father is dead."

I remained silent and could only stare at him in
disbelief.  My father had passed away when I was very
young and it took a little while before I realized what
he really meant was that my step-father had died. 
However, this wasn't nearly as surprising as the fact
that this strange man standing in front of me actually
knew who I was and that  somehow he had managed to find
me here.  After a short pause he continued, "Since the
probate court has decided that your mother's estate
will be donated to charities according to her original
will if her daughter cannot be found, my client is
willing to purchase your freedom if you are willing to
sign over your inheritance to him."

It was just my luck that I had decided to run away just
when the old tyrant decided to croak.  I looked up and
made it clear to him that in the first place that
person who had died was not my father but my step-
father and second I didn't care about the money, or
anything else for that matter that had belonged to that
man, and he could have it.  Actually, I would have done
anything at that point to escape the horrible degrading
place I was trapped in and if all he wanted was money
that I didn't even have, so much the better.

Anyway he produced the papers and showed me where to
sign and I did.  He then asked me, now that I was free,
where I wanted to go but I replied that I didn't know. 
Being preoccupied up to that point with simple
survival, I hadn't really done much thinking about any
long term plans.

Sitting on one of the other cots in the cell he then
said very softly, "I also represent a man who is in the
business of hiring discrete young women as escorts for
his clients.  I am always on the lookout for attractive
young women such as yourself, particularly young
American women, to engage in our business enterprise." 

Somehow "discrete young women as escorts" translated to
prostitution in my mind.  I looked up to find him
intently gazing at me.

"I heard about your situation," he continued, "how your
step-father sold you to those men in the Bahamas, and I
believe you might be interested in working for our
organization.  Please do not misunderstand me.  My
employer is not interested in putting you through
anything like you have been through.  He is a business
man and young white women are in high demand throughout
the area he trades in.  From what the general has told
me, you certainly must be quite an extraordinary young
woman.  I promise that my employer will take excellent
care of you.  I can also assure you that you will
always be treated professionally and with the greatest
respect.  Do you understand what I am saying?"

I really didn't hear a word he said after the part
about my step-father selling me and I made him repeat
it, twice, and then I made him give me the details.  It
seemed that the son of a bitch had lost a considerable
amount a money in a series of drug deals so he needed
not just all my mother's money but also all of mine. 
He had hoped I would run away from home and when I
finally did he had me trailed and had even arranged
through those two women I had met at the bus station to
have me sold to those men in Miami.  After that, he
stupidly squandered everything and before he could get
the rest of the money had gotten himself murdered.  It
all made me feel so alone and worthless.

I had certainly never dreamt of becoming an Oriental
call girl but just then a curious thing happened in my
mind and I began to see everything differently.  The
things the two prostitutes had said to me earlier were
beginning to make sense.  It wasn't that I didn't care
anymore if some horny businessman or anyone else fucked
me, but it was just then that I began to think
differently about myself, that while my body was
somehow mine, it wasn't "me".  I mean at that point I
finally came to the realization that I wasn't just my
body, or more like, I "myself" was really much more
than just my body and no one could take possession of
"me" unless I myself allowed them to do it.  That poor
abused body of mine was the only thing I could call my
own, it was my only asset.  Now this man wanted me to
tell him that if I gave him periodic use of my physical
self, that poor abused body of mine, I would be given a
life to call my own again.

But I guess I had been through just too much to make
any sort of decision at that moment and not knowing
whether to trust him or anyone else for that matter, I
began to cry, "I don't know.  I...  I want...  I just
don't know."

"Very well," he replied, "I can give you some time." 
The man left me and soon after another guard wearing a
white hospital orderly uniform showed up at my cell. 
He gave me an injection which I decided not to resist. 
He then left me and soon I drifted off to sleep.

When I awakened I found myself lying alone in a large
bed in an airport hotel.  Next to me was a new suitcase
filled with fashionable, expensive clothing.  Next to
that lay a passport and visa along with my first-class
airline ticket, to Singapore.

EPILOGUE

I wish to thank my therapist for her assistance in the
disclosure of these events.  The stress of recalling
those two months has immeasurably helped me to come to
grip with the bizarre experiences I have related here
and minimized their effects on my life, the nightmares
being much less frequent now.  I also thank her for
helping me to put all these events in proper order and
perspective, and to help me find the right words to
adequately relate their strange horror.

I did use that airline ticket and for a time became a
provider of "executive services" to a variety of
clients from my place of business in Singapore.  It was
a very decent living, better than anything I had ever
imagined before, and I managed to invest a considerable
portion of my earnings toward the day when I would
retire.  However, my skills at investment combined with
my knowledge of the petroleum industry which I had
inherited from my real father, soon caught the
attention of a certain older gentleman who I had known
as one of my clients.  After only a few months I was
offered a management position with his firm, a rather
diverse international oil and gas trading company based
in the Far East.  He is now my present employer and
treats me very well and very fairly.  He has also taken
an exceptionally personal interest in my future and we
plan to form a more intimate partnership at his country
estate near Mandalay within the next year.  He may not
be the best of men, but he is, in all ways, a man of
respect.  Most important is that he respects me.  He is
also very wealthy, intelligent, perceptive and like
myself, doesn't particularly like attorneys.