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.