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HARD LABOR
Chapter Two
Carrie felt a warm tingle between her thighs as she took delivery of her newest acquisitions.
"Would you remove their restraints please ?" she calmly requested.
The warder laid the completed documentation on the hall table and carefully unlocked and unhooked the Official State neck, wrist and ankle bracelets from the couple.
She watched him looking closely into Fern’s blue eyes as he ran the chain though and out of ironwork encircling her swanlike neck. Carrie smiled internally at his crude, meaningful wink at the poor young woman. It was evident that many tears had been shed in the hours since the courtroom.
Similarly unhooking the man’s clinking restraints, the warder warned him to keep still and smiled broadly at his obvious shame and discomfort.
“But … you’re C … Carrie ?” Derek stammered. “Steele’s wife.”
"Shut up!" the warder barked, quickly raising his cattle prod.
"No, that’s okay for the moment" Carrie interrupted him. "I'll deal with this after you have gone."
Briefly touching the warder’s arm, Carrie escorted him to the door and, after exchanging pleasantries, she tipped him for the delivery and shut the door.
"You are Carrie aren't you?" asked Derek again, as she turned to face the couple.
She nodded coolly. She had only ever met them a couple of times, and not for three years. The last time she had seen them before today was around the time of Derek and Fern’s engagement.
“Correct.”
Avoiding their desperate gaze, she sidled back to them, savouring the moment to the full. Then slowly she raised her eyes, drinking in their discomfort.
She let her eyes roam from Derek to Fern and back again. They were both still dressed in their own clothes; ‘Sunday Best’ to impress the court.
Derek was wearing a dark suit with a white shirt and sober tie. There were a couple of dirty marks on his cuffs from the restraints but no real damage. His leather shoes were shined and good quality leather.
Carrie smirked at Fern. In spite of having sunken and red-rimmed eyes from tiredness and tears, Carrie couldn’t deny that her husband’s ex-girlfriend was cute; blonde, blue-eyed, high cheek-boned, glamorous but demure, almost Nordic or Californian in appearance, with plump breasts straining against her tight blouse. Her police records showed she measured 5ft 3ins without heels, a full 6 inches shorter than Carrie was. Fern looked like she belonged in some stupid TV soap about lifeguards on a beach.
Like her husband, Fern had opted for a matching dark skirt and jacket and a cream silk top. The outline of a bra was visible and she was wearing sheer stockings and elegant office-heels. Carrie idly wondered what sort of underwear Fern used.
“Please, what’s happening ?” Derek asked.
“What’s happening ? Mmm ? ” Carrie hummed the words around her tongue, like tasting a savoury titbit before a delicious meal.
“Well, you’ve been sentenced to fifty years hard labor. But, instead of a prison camp, you will serve your sentence with us. With me and … my husband.”
His mouth fell open. “Steele ?”
“Of course, Steele. You don’t think I’d be so foolish as to …”
Carrie glanced meaningfully, cruelly, triumphantly at Fern,
“… let him get away from me, do you ?”
“But … oh, fuck, shit, this is so … awful, please.” He groaned.
“Please !” Fern wailed, her hand flying to her lips as she opened her mouth for the first time to echo her husband. She began to gnaw on her knuckles.
Carrie sighed, enjoying Fern’s reaction. It was amazing how suddenly a gorgeous face could turn ugly under traumatic stress. She couldn’t help but notice the pretty sapphire engagement ring and gold wedding band.
“Don’t worry.” She said, hands on hips. “I’ve done this to be kind. You’ll both be much better off with us than in a state prison camp, I assure you.”
She watched them gawp.
“Really ? I mean … really ?” Fern gasped.
They both smiled nervously at her and then at each other in sudden relief.
Simultaneously, their arms drifted out and they held hands. Carrie watched as Derek subtly gave his wife’s hand a comforting squeeze. She could barely suppress her internal smile as she allowed them this affectionate moment.
“For old times sake.” Carrie said, opening her palms in a pleasant shrug.
“I … I don’t know what to say.” Derek said. “It’s all too much.”
She studied him. Up and down. Undeniably, he was a good match for his pretty cunt; he was quite good looking; around six feet tall, fit, wavy brown hair, gentle grey-brown eyes, a strong, dimpled chin.
“Well don’t say anything. I’ll arrange for you each to have your own quick tour of the premises. Then, later on, you can join the party. It’s Steele’s birthday.”
“Er … how is he, by the way ?” Derek squeaked, in a high-pitched voice.
“Steele ? He’s fine, of course. I guess he’ll be busy doing the books for a while. You see your home and possessions all belong to us now. He’ll have to decide what to sell and what to keep. Maybe he’ll want your advice, I’m not sure.”
She paused, unable to stifle her gloating expression completely.
“Ev … everything bel … now belongs to you ?” Fern stammered.
“Yep. The lot. Just one question by the way. Who’s Titus ?”
Fern’s pleading voice gasped. “He’s our pet. The police made us leave him. Please, he’ll need feeding and looking after.”
Carrie raised an eyebrow. “Of course. Just leave that to me, my dear.”
*** *** ***
In the five years following 2008, the Western world had collapsed under the weight of government, corporate and consumer debt. Unemployment ballooned, banks collapsed, crime exploded, the prisons filled, and slavery was reintroduced. Bankrupts became slaves. Criminals became slaves. And naturally the innocent who were framed became slaves as well. As a result, slave labour was plentiful and cheap.
The problem was feeding the slaves.
Steele idly watched Jaz lapping his puddled semen. Jaz. Short for Jasmine. He chuckled and decided to change her name to ‘Jizz’ instead. Most of the slaves were renamed, although some were simply given numbers. It was a powerfully debasing tool; stripping a person of the name he or she had been given at birth.
A pearly river trailed down from his muscled chest, over his abdomen to form a lake round his belly button. Tributaries fanned out where his orgasm had spattered and splashed his skin. He was at the peak of his physical and sexual prowess. His first orgasms of the day were invariably thick, white, cloying and copious.
He chuckled inwardly at her inability to mask completely the disgust on her face as her tongue scooped his load and sucked it down her throat. The combination of obedience and revulsion just did it for him every time. He got no enjoyment from ‘shared fun’. It had to be a one-way street. His pleasure, another’s pain. Except for Carrie of course.
The stench of his dump had faded as it dispersed through the large bathroom.
“Do you fancy a dessert after that ?”
She paused, lips hovering over the last of his slimy residue. She managed to twist her head enough to look up at him. Her eyes said no, she didn’t want a dessert.
He laughed and pointed at the toilet paper holder.
“Finish that then pull off a piece of paper.”
She licked his stomach clean then reached out trembling fingers for toilet tissue. She managed to pull off a single piece neatly.
“Wipe my ass.”
He didn’t move but he took his weight on the backs of his legs while she put her hand gently between his thighs and carefully dragged the tissue back to front between his cheeks.
“Show.”
Her gaze was fixed on him. A couple of fat tears escaped down her olive-skinned cheeks. Her eyes swirled like hot drinking chocolate.
She lifted the paper. Its length was covered in a lush brown skid mark.
“Fold it.” He instructed. “And place it on the floor there.”
He watched her crease the paper twice into a small, neat square.
“Wipe me again. And get me properly clean this time.”
She repeated the action, firmly pulling the paper through his butt.
She lifted it and showed him. The mark was patchier but still plentiful.
He didn’t speak. She folded it over and placed it by the first square.
He smiled. “Okay. Now here’s the test. Wipe me good and hard.”
Her hand was shaking as she extracted another piece from the roll. Her eyes never left him as she wiped his cleft, digging into his rim.
She lifted the piece of tissue. There was a thin streak along with a curled strand of anal hair. Silent tears had wet her lovely eyelashes.
“Sorry dear.” He shrugged. “Good … but no cigar.”
He pushed her away and rose from the wooden lavatory seat. She shuffled back on her knees to make space for him on the raised dais. He put his hands down on the seat and bent over, presenting his butt to her face.
“Finish the job.”
He smiled down into the pan as he felt her hands on his hips, pulling her face into his buttocks. Moments later her wet tongue delved into his crack and began sliding up and down his cleft. He gave her a full minute while she licked and slurped.
“That’s enough. Now dry me with another tissue.”
When he was nice and dry he stood up and tightened the cord of his robe round his waist. He looked down at her and the three small squares of used tissue by her knees. He paused, contemplating, enjoying the horror in her eyes.
“Okay” He ruffled her hair, jerking her ponytail gently. “This time you can put those in the pan.”
The expression of relief on her face made him smile. She scooped up the bits of tissue and crawled over to the lavatory.
There was a light switch on the wall. He flicked it and a spotlight above shone directly down onto the toilet.
He smiled as she looked down into the pan.
A face stared up at them both. Beneath two brown mounds was an olive skinned woman. One steaming brown coil covered her hairline and upper forehead and the other pile was centred on her lower cheek. Brown shrapnel spattered the white sides of the entire porcelain pan. The woman’s nostrils were held closed by a steel peg, forcing her to suck air silently into the side of her mouth that was not covered by excrement. She had dark hair, eyelashes and a red bindi between her eyes.
“Oh yes.” Steele chuckled, as Jaz gasped in shock. “Say Hi to your sis !”
End of Chapter Two
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