BDSM Library - The Ballad of Lara and Gemma

The Ballad of Lara and Gemma

Provided By: BDSM Library

Synopsis: A spin-off from After the Pestilence, in two parts.
The Ballad of Lara and Gemma

The Ballad of Lara and Gemma

Part One: the Story so far


by Velvetglove


Author’s Note


A ballad is defined as a simple song or poem, recounting a story of an amorous or sentimental nature. This strange tale is a romantic ballad written in prose. A lot of the feedback received during the original postings of ‘After the Pestilence’ related to two characters; Lara and Gemma. This Part is mainly an edited repost of their appearances to date. Part Two, is new material, recounting the end of their bizarre and ultimately tragic tale.


Lara’s Theme


A ballad is usually set to music. So imagine, if you will, the beautiful theme tune from the film ‘Doctor Zhivago’, the piece that is known as ‘Lara’s Theme’. It is said that Maurice Jarre’s haunting melody represents Dr. Zhivago’s fated love for his beautiful and elusive Lara. Try, if you can, to hold those notes played on the balalaika in the back of your mind as we take a trip through ‘our own’ Lara’s life and her doomed passion for the sweet but elusive Gemma.




The defining moment of Lara’s life occurred before she was even old enough to remember it happening. It is difficult to know whether what happened afterwards is the reason, or an excuse, for how she turned out.

Lara would certainly have you believe it was the cause of her personality disorder. Others would state categorically that Lara merely used it as a convenient way to present herself as the victim, rather than the villain. Whatever the truth, when Lara’s parents died in their car on an icy December day during the English winter of 1984, just after her third birthday, it turned a happy, outgoing little child into a morose, introverted young girl.


Lara and her two brothers were subsequently looked after by different arms of the extended family at different times. I would say ‘cared for’ but I think ‘looked after’ is probably the warmest way one could describe their upbringing. Sometimes they spent brief, happier times with their young and eccentric aunt, Stella, but they mainly lived in the elderly and stern household of their dead father’s parents. Lara’s grandfather was an authoritarian of the ‘old school’, who believed that children should be seldom seen, and never heard. The cane in his study was used frequently. Lara’s grandmother was not unkind but she drank a bottle of gin a day, smoked incessantly, and played bridge six times a week with three other ladies, to avoid facing up to the unbearable loss of her own dear son.


The nanny, a woman in her forties called Ms. Ernst who was left in charge of the three children, was strict and cruel, sadistic even. She belonged to the 1880s not 1980s, believing in plain boiled food, open windows in winter and early bedtimes. Most of all, she ruled the bathroom, inflicting cold baths, cod liver oil and embarrassing underwear inspections on her young charges. Woe betide Lara or her brothers if she found they had used more than four pieces of toilet paper in a single visit to the lavatory: “one up, one down, one check, one polish!” was Ms. Ernst’s fierce mantra. Luckily, at the age of 8, each child was sent off to boarding school, the boys to the same one, and finally, at last, Lara to an all girls prep school.


It was here that Lara flourished. Within a few weeks, she became less introverted and sullen. She was bright, pretty and soon, popular. But she rapidly discovered the major thrill in a girl’s boarding school lay in scheming, bullying and bitching. Within a short period, Lara was at the centre of the junior year’s social life, befriending the majority, and making a misery of the lives of those she excluded. Best of all was suddenly, inexplicably, rejecting one of her favourites and casting her out, whilst showing unexpected kindness to another whom she had previously bullied.


Life continued merrily into her new senior boarding school at 11. But within a couple of years, another element had entered the equation.


Lara didn’t know at that stage that she was a lesbian. In fact, in time, she was to become a bisexual with a preference for women but an occasional liking for pretty boys. But what she discovered at that early stage was that she hungered for sex and guys weren’t available.

Girls were.

More importantly, sex for her soon became inextricably linked with power. It didn’t matter to her that some of her girlfriends didn’t want to play under the covers at night.

Lara did.

And she secretly enjoyed it even more with those girls who were doing it merely to keep in Lara’s good books, rather than any genuine taste for Lara’s glistening, sticky ‘honey pot’.


Academically, she did fine. She excelled in Biology, Chemistry, Physics and English at School, and then graduated in Natural Sciences from Oxford

University in the Summer of 2003. She had become involved in national student politics and, after leaving Oxford, contacts arranged for her to enter local government. By the time she lost both her dear departed brothers to the Great Global Pestilence of 2008, she had already been promoted to a senior position in charge of regional State Contracts. The first time she found a brown envelope full of Bearer Credits (similar to old bank notes) left for her by representatives of a bidding consortium, she was surprised.

And delighted.

It was about this time that she became properly reacquainted with her dear Aunt Stella and divine Uncle Brutus.

The rest, as they say, is history.


Oh, and by the way, a tiny footnote to our story records that in early 2010, an unfortunate 66 year old retired nanny, a certain Maggie Ernst, was arrested, tried and sentenced to work in one of the brutal state laundry workhouses for what remained of her unfortunate and unpleasant life.

Remarkably, and most regrettably for her, she was somehow to survive for another 18 years.


*** *** ***


The first time Lara spotted Gemma she was totally unimpressed.

Gemma was delivered on the Auction House truck with another female slave. She was wearing a ripped, baggy cotton shift, and long beige cotton pants. Her face was innocent looking - perhaps “sweet” might be the right word - but not beautiful, and her features were obscured by prim tortoiseshell spectacles. In a movie she would have been cast as a stereotypical librarian, quite attractive, but a woman that the male hero never seems to notice.

To be honest, Lara couldn’t imagine why her aunt Stella would have bothered to pay good Credits for her. Of course, at that stage, she didn’t even know Gemma’s name. Or, for that matter, care.


The next time, a week or so later, Gemma was naked, on her knees, doing oral training. She and three other females were kneeling in a line sucking on vibrating phalluses, set on plastic male mannequins that had once stood in shop windows. Lara and Stella were walking past and Lara paused idly to watch. Gemma’s hazel coloured eyes were open wide with effort. She was grimacing and struggling to cope with the immense pink penis that was electronically pumping into her gagging mouth, her lips drooling.

Lara raised an eyebrow. “How much was that one ?”

Stella smiled. “Cheap. Last Lot of the day. Most people had gone. I think I paid fifteen hundred Credits for her. Why ?”

Lara shrugged. “Nothing.”

They walked on.

Lara still didn’t know Gemma’s name.


At that time, Lara was working most of the time in the big City by the river. She visited Stella and Brutus when the local Government Offices closed every five days (the concept of a ‘weekend’ had ceased to exist; most workers, labourers, farmhands and slaves worked 7 days a week). She currently had no specific girlfriend, just a couple of casual relationships, and also a young woman who Lara blackmailed for sex. Then, when she was at Stella’s, Lara helped herself to any slaves, mainly female, who were spare.

To be honest, she wasn’t interested in commitment.

The situation suited her fine.


But during the following week, Lara’s mind returned to the image of the girl with spectacles. One evening, she was unusually cruel on the woman she was blackmailing, threatening to have her sentenced to ‘Slavery for Life’ on some trumped up charge.

The woman was older, mid-thirties, married, a mother, and Lara made her visit her twice a week to clean Lara’s apartment, cook and serve, while the woman’s husband – who had no choice but to meekly accept the arrangement – tended their children.

That evening, Lara urinated all over the woman’s face and clothes (the best she had) without even registering what she was doing. She thrashed the woman’s soft buttocks and breasts, leaving stripes and bruising for her husband to soothe. And she sent the woman into the street below to trawl for two men to pay a measly 50 Credits to double-team her.

Lara drank wine, watched and listened from her balcony, in the moonlight, as the two men ‘spit roasted’ the woman, a cock in her cunt while she sucked the other. When she staggered back, Lara took the Credits, pushed a finger roughly up the woman’s soiled vagina and wiped it on her forehead, then stuck just 5 of the 50 Bearer Credits onto her face.

“Go home.” She spat. “And you don’t need to ever come back !”

But in her mind’s eye, Lara saw only the girl in the spectacles.

She wondered what her name was.


The next time Lara saw her target, she was starring in a movie. Lara was secretly shocked her uncle Brutus had chosen her to star in one of his ‘Bukkake Dildo’ series. They were a popular series of films that sold in their tens of thousands, including exports, which the State loved because it earned foreign Credits. At one end the poor girl was taking endless loads of jism from 100 volunteers, of every age, colour and description, in her stretched and wretched mouth, and over her face, hair, spectacles, breasts and body. It had apparently been Stella’s idea to let her keep her glasses on, and they were now streaked with come.

While at the other end, Lara and another woman were expanding the poor girl’s horizons, by drilling her with increasingly large, thick and colourful vibrators in her cunt and arse. Her legs were splayed uncomfortably wide and Lara plunged a massive shiny red machine, as thick as her forearm, nine inches deep inside the young woman’s inexperienced and distended cunt. Lara put the electric rotator in the shaft on overdrive, twisting and pummelling her insides. Five fixed cameras and two roving ones were set up to get every angle, close up and wide shot, so that the Corporation could then edit the film to its usual high standards.

She wondered how the ‘librarian’ was feeling now ?




Gemma squatted, eyes ahead, thighs apart, body as steady as she could hold it, touching the ground by her side with just her fingertips.

In front of her, three people were sat, sipping tea and nibbling sandwiches, grinning at her. She wasn’t sure but she thought all three of them were members of the Government.

One man was definitely an officer of the dreaded Stalitz, the secret police. The other man and the woman were some sort of bureaucrats she thought. She thought the female was also related to Stella in some way and she had definitely been one of the two women who had rammed larger and larger things up Gemma’s orifices during the terrible film the day before, when she had been the “star”, in their horrible words, of the sick Bukkake movie. Her vagina and bottom still throbbed and she would never get rid of the overpowering smell and taste of semen in her mouth.

But in her mere four weeks in the Brute Corporation’s ownership, Gemma had learned that there was no respite. Things could always get worse. So here she was, naked, except for her specs, squatting outside in hot sunshine on a white marble table.

Her stomach rumbled. After letting her sleep a full 8 hours overnight after filming, they had already fed and watered her with what they referred to as ‘specials’ three times today, and forbidden her to use the toilet once. Gemma had got used to the public washrooms and being seen performing her ablutions by other slaves and guards.

But that wasn’t the same as squatting like this alone in front of three fully dressed people of both genders.

The young woman rose and wandered over. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, she ran a hand over Gemma’s embarrassing 38D tits, down her flank, and between her widespread legs, fingering her tender sphincter.

Cramp ?” the woman asked.

Her thighs and calves ached horribly. “No, Miss.”

The woman’s sharp fingernail wormed its way up inside her sore anus. Gemma looked straight ahead submissively. The woman was classically pretty, with an oval face, a delicate jaw line and refined nose, but to Gemma, her features were slightly too pinched, her lips just too thin, to be considered beautiful. And she gave off no warmth. Zero. Like ice.

Sore ?”

She shook her head very slightly. “No, Miss.”

The woman shook her head with a smirk. “Tough little bitch aren’t you ?”

Gemma paused, uncertain how to respond. “N… no, Miss.”

The woman removed her fingernail, sniffed it and placed it in Gemma’s mouth. Gemma licked. She knew better to resist. The woman was probably late twenties, maybe 5 or 6 years older than her. And yet she had total power over her. Already she had singled her out for attention on two prior visits.

“Tell me,” the woman asked, examining her polished red fingernail nonchalantly, “have you ever eaten shit before ?”

Gemma blinked at her and gulped. “No, Miss.” She noticed the two watching men leaning forward. The woman’s cruel aqua-blue eyes narrowed and she arched an eyebrow.

“Would you like to ?”

Again Gemma paused, uncertain. “No, Miss.”

“But if you had to, you would ?”

Gemma nodded, forcing herself to reply. “Ye …. s, Miss.”

“And would you rather eat your own shit, or somebody else’s ?”

She couldn’t take it any more. The slow verbal torture.

“Please, Miss.” She begged with her eyes. “I’ll do anything else….please.”
It was a mistake.

She knew it as soon as the words had left her mouth. But, although the watching, heavily-lipsticked, red mouth twitched, the woman remained outwardly calm.

“Of course you will. So tell us, what will you volunteer to do if I let you off a little hot dog munching. Something that you haven’t done before ? Something that excites us all even more than my idea ?”

Gemma blinked again at her. Her heels and ankles ached even more now. She was leaning back on her haunches, completely displayed and her arms and fingers were stiff from maintaining her balance. But worse, she had cornered herself. She knew that none of the normal sexual smorgasbord of activities and humiliations would satisfy this jaded trio.

She had fucked and sucked numerous times already, been buggered, drunk piss, been caned and burned with cigarette ends, suffered bukkake parties and been tortured by over-sized dildoes. Even now, there was little else her normal 22 year old mind could imagine that she hadn’t already done or had done to her. She could only think of a few terrible things she’d seen or heard about, like animals, faeces and …. what else ? She shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t …. would you consider tattooing me ?”

The smirking woman turned to the watching men. They all grinned.

“How about TOI on one cheek and LET on the other ?” the woman laughed.

Gemma dropped her eyes down to the table, trying total humility.

“Do you need to go ?” she asked Gemma, pushing on her stomach.

“Yes, Miss.”

“Bladder and bowels ?”

“Yes, b … both, Miss.”

“Excellent.” She stepped back. “Bladder first. Hurry.”

Gemma shut her eyes. After many minutes controlling herself, she couldn’t just go straightaway. The pit in her gut rumbled and her bowels ached for immediate release. It was difficult to loose her bladder without relaxing her sphincter at the same time. Eventually, though, she felt her urine coming.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.”

She obeyed and watched the young woman studying her. She was clearly relishing the power she held, enjoying her total humiliation. Gemma felt her pussy lips pouting wider and a stream gushed noisily between her thighs onto the marble table. She listened to the hiss and splash and felt the warm liquid seeping between her toes.

The woman considered Gemma’s expression. She fingered Gemma’s knee.

Embarrassed ?” she asked.

Gemma nodded. “Yes, Miss.” Still her full bladder kept emptying itself. She must have been going for twenty seconds and yet she still felt half full.

The woman slowly slid her thumb along from Gemma’s knee to her labia.

Stop !” She ordered.

With an immense effort, Gemma squeezed her bladder muscles. After one or two seconds, the flow slowed to a trickle, then finally stopped.

With an approving smile, the woman ran her fingers over the “brazilian” strip of pubic hair they’d left Gemma with, and teased her lips further apart. Then she raised her hand and examined the droplets of urine that covered her fingers. Looking directly into her eyes, she tentatively licked a single drop.

Her red lips turned down at the edges in a look of disgust.

“Yuk. You really drink this stuff ?”

Gemma made a face. Her legs were cramping and her bladder ached.

“Yes, Miss. When I am told to.”

Her inquisitor held out her hand for Gemma to lick. Then she fetched an empty tea cup and held it just below Gemma’s middle.

“Carry on pissing. Into this.”

Gasping in relief, Gemma released the final ten seconds of her bladder’s load. “Thank you, Miss.” She hoped gratitude might help her.

The woman lifted the overflowing cup to Gemma’s mouth. “Drink !”

One of the other slaves had whispered to her soon after her arrival that drinking piss sounded awful until you’d been confronted with eating shit. Sure, piss was foul and humiliating but it was bearable. She knew of some slaves who’d been made to eat excrement but she had managed to avoid such a revolting fate so far. She intended to keep it that way.

Gemma opened wide and the woman poured carefully. It was hot and bitter but at least it was from her own body. Gemma swallowed it down.

Then, in the background, she caught sight of one of the watching men standing and unzipping himself. He emptied the milk jug and, laughing, placed his penis in the top and began urinating too.

“Seems like you’ve started something !” The woman joked.

The man made a joke in reply and referred to the woman by name as Lara.

At last Gemma’s nemesis had a name.





Lara crossed the lawn when she saw that her aunt Stella had arrived back.

“Aunt Stell’. Can I have quick word ?”

Stella pecked her niece on the cheek. “Yes ?”

“I adore that one.” She pointed at Gemma, still squatting on the marble table. “I’d like to buy her.”

Stella frowned at her. “She’s not for sale at the moment, dear. Brutus is using her in a series. I can’t remember what. Bukkake I think.”

Lara put on her best pout. “Can I rent her then ? Take her away from here a while.”

“I know that look.” Stella smiled. “What do you want her for ?”

Lara knew that Stella didn’t really approve of her lesbianism but her aunt put family before principle and tolerated it.

“I would have thought that was obvious !” she replied with a grin.

“You can get a million bitches to lick that hot pussy of yours. Why her ?”

Lara glanced over her shoulder. “There’s something about her. I want to break her down. Really get inside her head. Fuck with it.”

Stella laughed. “Sounds like you’ve fallen for her, Lara.”

Lara looked indignant. To fall for a slave romantically was the ultimate faux pas in the new world. “I have not.” She replied.

“I’ll speak to your uncle.” Stella said with finality. “In the meantime, do what you like with her but no real damage, right ?”

Lara smiled. “Thanks.”


*** *** ***


Gemma pulled on it with her teeth. The thin blue string tightened.

Lara watched her and giggled. She was at the height of her period. The cramps were passed but the thick red flow would be plentiful. Given a choice between eating the copious bucketful of her own shit and spending the evening getting ‘better acquainted’ with Lara, Gemma had naturally chosen the latter option, even though she clearly didn’t have a lesbian bone in her body.

Slowly the expanded, soggy pink tampon with glutinous red streaks slid out from between Lara’s labia.

Oooh dear,” she said, “I thought I was over the worst. Are you sure that you don’t want to change your mind ?”

The stinking yellow plastic bucket had been left outside the door, still threatening, still available.

No Miss. Y …look lovely, Miss.”

“Do I ?” Lara smiled coquettishly. “Mmm…I suppose I must when all you usually see are nasty men and other slaves. Chew on that.”

Gemma gulped and manoeuvred the used tampon into her mouth with her tongue. Lara studied her like a cat playing with a mouse.

“You are missing your evening meal aren’t you ? We wouldn’t want you to go hungry, after all. Suck all the goodness out of that thing.”




Gemma ran her tongue just inside the swollen lips of Lara’s vagina, teasing her but not enough to annoy her. She tried to imagine everything that the most perfect boyfriend in the world, skilled at cunnilingus and making love, would be doing to her. She had already lapped at the rim of Lara’s bottom and humbly kissed every millimetre of her backside and inner thighs. Lara just lay back lazily and silently, flicking through a magazine, not giving her even the slightest feedback or encouragement. Carefully, she probed Lara’s prominent clitoris with the tip of her tongue.




Lara sat in a silk gown and ate heartily. In contrast to the food given to slaves, the kitchens for the owners, staff and guests, offered some of the best prepared, most rare black market food and drink available. On her tray were a steaming bowl of seafood pasta, hot garlic bread, a fresh green salad and half bottles of red wine and sparkling water.

Her sexual appetite temporarily sated by three fierce orgasms, Lara had suddenly noticed her other hunger, and ordered a ‘room service’ supper, delivered by a slave waitress. On the television monitor in the background, the State Channel was broadcasting lists of names and photos of the slaves to be auctioned on the next day. Lara had one eye on the screen and one on her “new girlfriend”.


Gemma simply knelt and watched her eating in silence. On a tray on the floor, the slave’s ‘special’ that Lara had thoughtfully ordered glistened unappetisingly. The contrast between the two meals couldn’t have been more pronounced. The sweet garlicky aroma of the hot pasta and bread in comparison to the fetid stench of the congealed brown triangle lying in a cold gravy of what looked and smelt distinctly like urine.


Lara forked up another mouthful of pasta and smacked her lips. She grinned at Gemma’s kneeling, naked body, her pendulous breasts and narrow waist, sweet face and librarian spectacles. Gemma’s thighs were spread as wide as possible, displaying her “beef curtains” as Lara had decided to nickname them. Lara liked her. A lot. But in Lara’s mind that didn’t mean she had to feel any pity for her.

On the contrary in fact.

Mmm, good.” Lara said, proferring a morsel of garlic bread. “Try.”

Gemma shuffled forward and opened her mouth, taking the piece from Lara’s outstretched fingers. She ate enthusiastically, gratefully.

Lara sipped her wine and laughed. “I bet licking menstrual pussy for an hour gives you an appetite, yes ?”

Gemma nodded. “Yes, Miss.”

“Pass me up your tray.”

Lara pushed her own tray over to a side table and took Gemma’s tray onto her lap. Gemma knelt peering over the other side of the tray. They both stared down.

Lara reached for her own fork, prodded the thick, gelatinous slice and made it quiver in the bowl.

Mmm…” she said, running her tongue along her mocking upper lip.

She mashed the fork through an edge and spread the mouthful into pieces, exposing the red, green and brown strands and various lumps inside it.

“Yummy. Mouth wide open.”

She forked up a thick helping and dropped it onto Gemma’s tongue.

Mmm…what is that, bits of cabbage and tomato, nails and erpubes ?”

Gemma stared straight into Lara’s eyes, her throat gagged, but she munched, teeth crunching on finger and toenails, and swallowed.

Lara nodded approvingly and forked up a second, larger mouthful. To emphasise the difference, she reached out for her own glass of red wine and swallowed a gulp, while dumping the fork load into Gemma’s mouth.

Ten minutes later, Lara forked up the final remnants from the bowl. There was a particularly thick, yellow toenail that was bound to have lots of good nutrients in it. She knew that Stella gave the slaves’ chef an extraordinarily low budget for food. The same amount of credits that Lara spent on her lunchtime snack at the State canteen, was used to feed 200 slaves per day ! Lara loved the ingenuity with which the Chef managed to make around 600 servings daily out of the same money she casually wasted on a sandwich that she then left half of.

She pushed the last toenail into Gemma’s mouth and watched her crunch it. Bits of pubic hair, nail, and putrid vegetable were stuck in the girl’s teeth as she opened her mouth to receive it. Lara looked deep and enquiringly into Gemma’s hazel coloured eyes.

She was so intrigued. What must it be like to be in her situation; bukkake movies, forced lesbianism, and eating filth ? Lara had no idea how she would handle it herself. Nor did she care. She didn’t want to win Gemma’s affection. Shit, she had no interest in romance. She lusted after Gemma and that was all she cared about. All she wanted was her complete and utter worship. She wanted Gemma to think of her the way that terrified primitives used to worship their planetary gods.

Lara lifted the tray away and laid it next to her own, half finished, but still tempting meal. She took a sip of wine and smiled.

Full ?” she asked.

Gemma’s glance gave her away. For a fleeting second she peeked at Lara’s tray and then back. “Yes, Miss.”

Lara chuckled. “Tell me the truth.”

Gemma paused. “N … no, Miss.”

There was a long silence.

“Open your mouth. Show me your teeth.”

Gemma pulled her lips back and parted her mouth in a wide ‘o’.

Lara stared at the brown hairs stuck in Gemma’s teeth like dental floss and bits of red and brown gunk glued to her gums.

“Go into my bathroom and clean your mouth out. Use floss, a toothpick, a new toothbrush. And brush with soap, not toothpaste, then rinse with mouthwash.”

Lara watched her go. She’d been tempted to make her use the toothbrush that was kept alongside the toilet brush for scrubbing skid marks from the pan, but she didn’t want germs in Gemma’s mouth for what she planned next.

“And hurry. I’ll be there in two minutes and I’d better find your teeth and mouth totally clean !”

Lara smiled, listening to the poor woman flossing and brushing. Her huge, luxurious bathroom with Jacuzzi tub, steam shower, twin basins, throne toilet, day bed, wall of wardrobes and dressing table, was larger than the entire cell that housed the cages, in just one of which Gemma slept. She listened to her gargling the mouthwash and spitting, then rinsing the basin clean.

Lara stood up, her silk robe falling open, and walked into the bathroom.


She examined the presented mouth and tongue and sniffed the scent of soap and mouthwash approvingly. Gently she removed Gemma’s spectacles from her nose and placed them on the side of the basin.

“Lay down in the Jacuzzi there, face up.”

She watched Gemma climb into the large white bath, eyeing her heavy breasts and slim waist hungrily. Slowly, Lara shucked off her robe and stepped in over Gemma, lowering her thick, untrimmed bush down. She chose to wear her pubes long, luxurious, au naturel.

“I know you like piss. Open.”

Lara watched dispassionately as her initial spray soaked Gemma’s face and shoulders and then became a single fierce jet as her labia opened fully.

She adjusted her hips and aimed straight into Gemma’s wide open, freshly soaped mouth. A little gas escaped from her anus as her insides relaxed and she grinned down into Gemma’s hazel eyes and overflowing face.

“Lick.” She ordered.

Gemma gulped down a hot mouthful and her tongue came out as Lara lowered her still urinating, menstrual pussy directly onto Gemma’s lips. Then Lara shifted her weight and gave Gemma her bottom to tongue, with the result that her piss rose in an arc over Gemma’s face, splashed against the tub, and ran down into her hair.

Finally, at last, Lara’s copious flow ceased.

She continued to rub her wet buttocks either side of Gemma’s tongue and nose. Smirking, she felt a telltale stirring in her bowels and passed another silent, but larger bubble of gas. This time, in seconds, a rich, full aroma of sulphur filled the air around them.

Gemma had retracted her tongue.

Lara’s fingernails pinched Gemma’s earlobe cruelly. “Lick, don’t stop, bitch.”

She closed her eyes in bliss as the soft tongue went back inside her. She couldn’t decide whether her climax was going to come first, or her bowel movement. She reached down and stroked her clit to bring herself off, and then gasped as her sphincter muscle opened.

She shrieked as her orgasm started and simultaneously lifted her buttocks to allow the first dry, solid turd to nudge its way out and drop onto Gemma’s grimacing face.

Yessssssssss ….sssmmmm…” Lara hissed in orgasmic triumph.

Two more smaller stools soon followed as her climax subsided. She straightened up on her knees and watched them plop, one onto Gemma’s neck, the other between her breasts.

“Lie still.” She said, pushing herself back to plonk down astride Gemma’s waist, her bottom smearing the woman’s tummy.

Lara giggled at the sight of the three brown logs deposited on Gemma’s pale skin. Tentatively, she picked up the one that was about to tumble from Gemma’s neck into the bath and placed it neatly alongside the one on her tits, like a pair of nipple decorations.

“Mouth open.”

The turd on Gemma’s face was lying across her lips, nose and cheek. Gemma opened her lips cautiously and it slid away from her mouth.

“Pl… ease, Miss, … n … not this …”

Lara relished her surge of power.

“Why not ? You know this goes on here. Why do you think we spend valuable Credits on powerful antibiotics and antitoxins for slaves ? Give me just one good reason why I should spare you in particular.”

A tear trickled down the side of Gemma’s temple.

“I … can’t Miss, but I’m begging y …you, please…I’ll do anything …”

Lara smiled down at her, mock-kindly. There was no rush. This bitch would eat a bucket load of slime in time. Lara held all the aces. She didn’t need to play them all at once. After all, the woman had already given Lara her first ever simultaneous climax and dump.

Maybe she deserved a break ?

“Tell me what you’ll do.”

“Anything, Miss.”

“No. You think of something. Amuse me.”

It was the second time that day she had asked her the same question. Gemma blinked up at her nervously, obviously thinking hard.

“I … can’t Miss … I just want to please you Miss …”

Lara reached down and picked up the largest log from Gemma’s face.

“Kiss it. Don’t eat it, just kiss it.”

Gemma slowly puckered her lips and touched them to the firm, glistening piece. Lara watched the bile obviously rise in her throat as she gagged.

“I will make a deal with you.” Lara began, magnanimously. “For the next week you will be my dedicated toilet slave. Every time I go, you will attend me. When I piss you will drink it. When I shit, whether I go on your face and body, or in the toilet, you will always clean up lovingly. My waste will become your best friend in the world. Understood ?”

Gemma seemed to realise it was a good deal. “Y ..yes Miss.”

Lara nodded, carefully lining up all three pieces of excrement on Gemma’s breasts.

“I’m not finished. We will review the situation in a week and at that stage all bets are off. Secondly, if you fail to meet your side of the bargain, if you recoil from my waste, or show it any disrespect, I will place you in the Hell Hole lavatories for the rest of your days.”

Lara paused.

Gemma gave her a cautious nod of acceptance.

“Thirdly, I am going to have your clitoris numbed.”

Gemma stared up at her in shock.

“First thing tomorrow. It will last about a week. The duration of our deal. Maybe a bit longer. You will have no feeling and to all intents and purposes it will be like having your clit removed. It will help you to concentrate on giving me pleasure instead.”

Gemma’s mouth opened to speak but then she obviously thought better of it.

“And others. I may be mainly lesbian myself,” Lara said, “but I enjoy watching women and men together occasionally. For the next seven days I’ve taken the week off work and I’m going to take direct control of your life here. I’m going to choose your partners, your activities and everything else.”

Another tear seeped out of the side of Gemma’s right eye.

“And I should warn you that I don’t think a healthy 22 year old beauty like you should be stinting with her favours ! Those guys in your bukkake movie debut were sex gods compared with the partners I’ll select for you. I have a particular penchant for very old men. They are always so appreciative of young pussy. Quality - or lack of it - will be more important than quantity, but I’m sure we’ll find time to ensure you get both. And I think we’ll mainly use that bottom of yours since it’s the thing I’m least interested in and the thing that dirty old men seem to prefer. And your arsehole is probably the thing you enjoy least too, isn’t it ?”

Gemma bit her quivering lip and nodded, silently crying now.

“But I’m sure we’ll let a few slide up that cunt too and so I wouldn’t want that sluttish clit of yours distracting you from your duties.”

Lara sat up off Gemma’s tummy and climbed out of the Jacuzzi.

“Yes, we’re going to get on fine you and me, I can see that. Now get up, flush those disgusting things down the toilet, then come wipe my bottom with paper. Next, take a cold shower yourself and then go and bend over my bed. I fancy giving those butt cheeks of yours a little spanking before turning in for the night. I shall call a guard to come and return you to your cage in 15 minutes. I’m sure you’ll sleep better in your own bed !”


The Next Day


Gemma lay on the gynaecological gurney. She had been strapped firmly down by Doctor Thorne. Her legs were held up and wide in metal stirrups.

“So,” the Doctor said, “Miss Lara wants your clitoris numbed, does she ?”

Gemma nodded nervously at the matronly, grey haired woman.

“Did she catch you masturbating ?”

“No, Doctor.”

Gemma felt her skilfully probing and unhooding her clitoris.

No ? Do you masturbate ?”

“Never …. well, not since I came here, Doctor.”

It was true. Gemma had never had a high libido, certainly for ‘self love’. She had always considered other things in life and relationships more important than sex. It wasn’t a priority. Sure, she had learned to quite enjoy making love with the two boyfriends she’d had, as a giving, sensual experience, but she had almost never reached a climax. She just didn’t need them often.

The Doctor smiled, teasing a finger up and down Gemma’s dry slit.

“Well you won’t be able to once I’ve injected it with this.”

Gemma stared at the large syringe with a long needle the Doctor held up.

“Just in case you were wondering, yes it will hurt. No simple ‘prick and it’s done’. This injection takes a couple of minutes to administer. You must remain completely still, understood ?”

Gemma nodded her head slowly.

“The needle itself will hurt. The fact that it’s going into your clit will hurt even more. Soon your whole vaginal area will start to burn intensely, probably for about ten minutes. After that, everything will return pretty much to normal except you won’t feel a thing … there … for at least a week, probably nearer two.” She waved the syringe in front of Emma’s face. “Extra large dose, you see.”

Gemma’s felt the woman roughly parting her labial lips wide.

“Shift your butt forward slightly. Good. Okay, now keep completely still and silent. If you don’t, I will use an even longer, thicker needle.”

Gemma grimaced in silent agony as the tip pierced her tender sex.




Lara giggled at Gemma, who was scarlet faced and heavily perspiring. She was kneeling on the floor eating the special ‘second breakfast’ that Lara had thoughtfully arranged for her as soon as she had finished at the doctor’s surgery. The steaming bowl was laid on a low table between them.

Nobody much cares for curry at eight thirty in the morning.

Still less a super-hot and spicy Vindaloo curry.

And even less a ‘curry slurry’.

The previous evening, at Lara’s request, the chef had brewed up an a la carte dish of liquidized offal, mainly giblets and intestines, to which he had added several heaped spoons of curry powder, red chillies and spices, leaving it to simmer overnight.

The helping was enormous. The deep bowl had been filled to the brim. Painfully slowly, Gemma was working her way through it. Lara sat watching her put her lips to the swill to suck up mouthfuls of the brutally spicy brown mixture. Gemma gasped, panted and gulped, steam almost visibly rising from her ears and nostrils as she ate. It was a small mercy that the curry probably disguised the worst of the taste of rancid offal.

Lara popped another piece of warm, buttered croissant into her own mouth.

“Come on, doll. Faster, or I might think you would prefer something else.”

Gemma’s looked up at her through her misted up spectacles and red-rimmed, watering eyes and shook her head. She buried her face in the bowl and slurped up an especially large mouthful.

Lara smiled. Gemma didn’t know it but the mixture contained another ingredient, added that morning, so that the effects wouldn’t be cooked away.

A powerful laxative ! Within an hour or so, she would be full to bursting and desperate to void her bowels. Needless to say, Lara had no intention of letting her off that easily.

The interesting email she had received earlier would see to that.

“Even faster. Hoover it all up. I want that bowl licked sparkling clean.”




Gemma was heaving for breath, sucking up huge lungfuls of air.

Were they called Jumping Jacks or Star Jumps ?

She was too exhausted to remember. Lara had her doing jumping exercises, clapping her hands above her head while opening her legs wide, then snapping her arms back down to her side and hopping her legs together.



One jump per second.

In bursts of thirty, followed by a short respite to get her breath back, and then another set of thirty.

In all, she had already done one hundred and eighty.

Before them, she had been made to do push ups, stomach crunches, knee squats and jogging on the spot. Lara’s excuse for this physical torture was that she was fat and untoned, although Gemma knew that she was actually underweight from the awful diet she’d been fed these past weeks.

“Let’s do one more set, shall we ?” The ‘cow’ said to her, smirking.

Gemma sucked in a large breath, stood to attention and began to jump. Again. Her glasses bounced on the bridge of her nose and her large breasts flopped about across her chest as if they had a mind of her own. They hurt. But not as much as the stitch in her side and the gradual cramping in her stomach. She felt nauseous from the physical effort, especially so soon after a heavy meal. Light headed, she did her best to focus straight ahead. The cow wasn’t even looking at her any more, she was flicking through a sheaf of papers she’d downloaded from her computer. Occasionally she glanced up and checked on the quality of Gemma’s jumps.

“Arms higher you lazy slut. And legs wide ! ” She shouted at her, before looking down again.

Gemma gasped as her breakfast quietly repeated on her. The strong curry belch tasted awful in her parched mouth. Worse, she felt the need to pass wind from below, something she knew that the cow would be furious about. One of the first rules every slave learned was that all bodily functions, including eating, drinking, urinating, defecating, even sneezing and farting, and especially climaxing, were strictly forbidden without prior permission.

She counted the thirty jumps, arms and legs aching, and worst of all her stomach lurching up and down.

… twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty.

She stopped and bent over. Her spectacles tumbled off her nose onto the floor. Like a knife, the sudden clench of her guts, made her wince.

She knew she was going to have to ask permission to use the toilet.




Lara stood back to admire her handiwork. Gemma was now suspended in the centre of her bedroom, wrists in a spreader bar chained to a bolt in the wooden beam, and ankles chained wide apart to bolts in the floor. Every nerve and sinew stood out as Gemma’s glistening body strained for comfort.

Lara pulled up a stool and sat in front of her naked slave.

She ran the feather up inside Gemma’s cunt lips, grazing her clitoris.

“You really can’t feel a thing ?”

“Not … there. Just a tickle elsewhere, Mistress.”

Lara laughed aloud, discarding the feather.


She leaned her head close to Gemma’s taut stomach.

“Was that a tummy rumble I heard ?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Naughty, naughty. That counts as a bodily function you know. You should have asked permission.”

“Sorry, Mistress.” Gemma’s face screwed up. “Ple …” Then she stopped, seeming to have thought better of it.

What ?” Lara asked in a teasing, sing-song voice. “Go on.”

“Please, Mistress. I need to do another … tummy rumble Mistress.”

Lara ran a fingernail upwards through the ‘brazilian’ strip of pubic hair that Gemma had been allowed to keep, on up into her belly button.

“Go on then.”

There was a distinct sound, like a creaking door.

Lara chuckled and fetched the sheaf of papers she’d downloaded earlier.

It was time for Gemma to understand the rules of this game.

“Tell me about Dave.” She said.

Gemma reacted like a startled rabbit. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.

“D …. Dave ?”

Lara was delighted. She flicked through the pages.

“Here we are. Two known boyfriends. One, Dave Wilson. Born October First, 1983. Dated her for around six months in 2007.”

Lara proferred a grainy black and white image. Grainy, but clear enough.

It showed a young man and a younger Gemma smiling side by side.

See ?”

“Oh … Dave. Yes, Mistress. He was a fr … friend of mine.”

“And how about Steve ?”

“Yes, Mistress. He was my boyfriend when I was arrested, Mistress.”

“Yes. Interesting.” Lara said, stretching out the word ‘interesting’.

“I thought you’d gone bankrupt. But this Stalitz Report tells me that, in fact, you were arrested for stealing.”

Gemma grimaced as her stomach gave a deep growl.

“Yes Mistress. I’m sorry Mistress.”

Lara decided to ignore the infraction. “What did you steal ?”

“A bag of sausages, Mistress.”

Lara smiled. Mmm. The most expensive half dozen sausages you ever ate, right ?”

Gemma stared straight ahead. “I was arrested before we could eat them, Mistress.”

Lara arched an eyebrow.

We ? It says you were arrested alone.”

Gemma gulped. “Please, Mistress. I need … to g.. go to the toilet.”

“Stuff and nonsense.” Lara barked, sharply. “You will learn to control yourself.” She paused to pick up the feather.

“Now, who was your accomplice ?”

“Nobody, Mistress. I meant ‘we’ meaning anybody I might have shared them with. Lots of people were hungry, Mistress. Bankrupt, starving.”

Lara moved the stool round Gemma and sat on it behind her, facing her bottom. She trailed the feather slowly across Gemma’s pale globes.

“Just because a few people are hungry doesn’t mean they can steal.” Lara admonished, mouthing the State’s brutal official policy. She tilted the feather and eased it, ever so slowly, between the curves of Gemma’s butt crack.

Aahngh …” Gemma murmured a grunt of shock.

Lara smiled quietly and removed the feather momentarily.

“Tell me about Michelle then.”

“M … Michelle ?”

Lara slid the feather up into the entrance to Gemma’s bottom.

“Yes, your best friend, Michelle.”

Gemma’s body seemed to sag slightly, as much as was possible, given the way she was strung up taut and spread eagled.

“She was … I lived with her Mistress.”

“Aha. And I thought I was your first female lover !”

“No, Mistress. I mean you are. Michelle is just a friend, Mistress. We both … she liked men, Mistress.”

Gemma’s stomach growled loudly again. Her buttocks clenched tightly around the feather that Lara had inserted an inch or so inside her.

“Control, please.” Said Lara, secretly delighted. “And where is this Michelle now ?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Mistress. I last saw her the morning I was arrested. I have never seen or heard of her again, Mistress.”

Lara twisted the feather.

“But I know where she is.”

Gemma’s mouth made an audible pop sound as her jaw fell open.

Lara teased the feather in and out, very slowly, like a slow motion saw.

“At the moment, she’s at the Stalitz Offices on suspicion of being your accomplice.”

Gemma groaned. The sound came from her mouth, not her rumbling stomach.

“And I think she’s probably guilty, don’t you ?”

Lara climbed off the stool and left the feather poking out of Gemma’s backside like a flag in a conquered mountain. She walked round to look Gemma full in the face. With a grin, Lara lifted the spectacles and perched them on top of Gemma’s hair, so she could stare deep into her soul.

The girl’s tortoiseshell spectacles matched her hazel eyes sweetly.

You can be the jury.”

It was a joke. Juries no longer existed. Nowadays State Judges made all decisions of innocence and guilt.

But people could still remember what a jury was.

Gemma blinked uncertainly. “I … jury … how, Mistress ?”

Lara leant forward and kissed Gemma full on the lips, giving her the tip of her tongue for a second.

“You have to exercise control.” She giggled.

Gemma frowned, still confused.

“It’s simple.” Said Lara, thoroughly enjoying herself. “If you keep control of your bowels for as long as I tell you, then your dear friend Michelle is obviously innocent. But if you lose control at any time beforehand, I’m afraid she’ll be found guilty and sentenced to slavery. For life of course.”

Gemma understood. She seemed to get renewed strength. Her body tightened and her eyes focused.

“H .. how long, please, Mistress ? Will you t … tell me, how long ?”

Lara pirouetted a full circle like a ballerina with excitement.

What a game !

“Six hours.” She said. “One hour for each sausage that you stole.”

Gemma’s eyes screwed slowly shut. She sagged again in her chains.

“I … I can’t …. ple … Mistress … less …”

Lara shrugged. “But at least you can do your girlfriend the favour of trying. If you don’t even try, she hasn’t got a chance, poor bitch.”

Lara left Gemma with that thought and walked through to the bathroom. She wanted to give Gemma time to steel herself. It wouldn’t be fun if she didn’t suffer the cramping agonies of trying to hold out for a while at least.

She left the door open so that Gemma could listen to her relieving herself. Lara sat on the toilet and noisily sprayed her morning coffee and juice into the removable plastic pan that sat under the seat and above the flushable water. After she’d finished, she lifted the pan out and carefully tipped the sloshing contents into a small barrel like container she kept in a cupboard next to the toilet.

She smiled happily and began to hum a little song.




The suspect fought. But, outside of those silly pre-Pestilence movies featuring martial-arts-trained women, no female can beat five males, and especially not five highly skilled, 6’ plus, Stalitz interrogators, when she herself is only 5 ft 4 ins tall.

They had decided to extract a confession from her, assuming they would get the call saying she was guilty.

It would speed up the paperwork.

If the call said she was innocent, well, so be it.

There was nothing an ordinary citizen could do against the dreaded Stalitz Police.

First they raped her. Not really as part of the interrogation, but simply because they all fancied the sexy, unemployed actress. She was a strawberry blonde, aged 23 according to her papers, with refined, well bred features and an arse that looked great in the denim shorts she’d been wearing when they picked her up. They tied her over the desk in an interrogation room and banged her front and back, singly and in pairs, passing their breakfast hour very pleasantly.

Next they used the electric shock Q & A machine, attached to her nipples, and it took a mere sixteen minutes for her to make a recorded voluntary confession on camera, with a signed statement to the same effect.

At just after ten o’clock, they left Michelle tied there sobbing and went about their other business, awaiting their boss’s call.




Gemma watched Lara glance at her watch.

The cow was casually tickling a green frond under Gemma’s nose, making her snitch.

Lara had replaced the teasing feather with a bunch of freshly cut, acid-dripping, stinging nettles.

Already she had sensuously draped the evil stingers all over Gemma’s helpless breasts, stomach and labia, producing violent red inflammation on her soft skin. Then she had pushed a glove full of nettles agonisingly up into the cleft between her buttocks and laughed at Gemma clenching and unclenching her cheeks, trying to disperse the fearful, burning itch.

And of course, she had now also teasingly placed an empty plastic yellow bucket between Gemma’s feet, just in case of any ‘little accidents’.

“Coming up to an hour. So only five to go.”

Hah, bloody hah !

The cow stared deep into her eyes inquisitively.

Please don’t give up.” She smirked. “Think of Michelle.”

Gemma just stared back at her. In truth, she couldn’t think of anything but the dreadful stinging that she desperately wanted to ease by scratching.

Except, of course, she could also think of her bottom.

She had felt the inexorable journey of the curried breakfast through her digestive system, and finally down her colon. Eventually it had lodged in her bottom, literally just the other side of her anal sphincter muscle. Gradually, she felt it loosening, virtually becoming a liquid, inside her.

Gemma had only ever had an enema once, just before the terrible Bukkake film when they had wanted to clean her out completely.

This felt the same but even worse.

That enema had been water based and they had only wanted her to hold it a couple of minutes. But holding back something much heavier, for much longer, was much, much harder.

Harder still was the fact that, with her legs chained wide apart to bolts in the floor, she couldn’t clench her buttocks properly. All she could do was tighten her muscles as best she could as the diarrhoea swirled just inside her, like a marauding army searching for a weak spot in a castle’s defences.

She knew it was a million to one she could hold out for five more hours of this. But something inside her made her want to resist this fucking cow as long as possible.

It wasn’t about Michelle any more.

Well, it was, but mainly it was about the two of them.

Gemma versus the cow.

That was her only bit of resistance. Silently naming her the cow. She actually looked more like an elegant rodent but somehow ‘cow’ suited her more. Gemma winced as yet another knife spasm speared her guts but managed to compose herself before disaster occurred.

Lara chuckled at her.

“Well, it’s going to be a long old day.” She said, switching on the wall mounted screen. A picture of an excited studio audience appeared on it.

“So let’s watch ER together and imagine Michelle starring in it.”

Gemma blinked, confused, unable to think properly. Michelle in a hospital drama. Hadn’t there been something like that on TV a few years back ?

Lara giggled, flopping down to sprawl on the comfortable sofa, obviously reading her confusion.

“No, silly !” she said, turning to look up at her over the back of the sofa. “Not that old ER. The new one. Produced by my Aunt Stella. ER ! Enemies Reunited !”




After the first part of the show, Lara turned and smiled at her victim over the back of the sofa, as the first ad appeared on the screen.

“Damn, I love this show !” she exclaimed. “You ?”

Gemma stared back at her. Not insolently or sullenly. Her eyes were simply glazed over, as if she couldn’t really think about anything at all. Their hazel colour seemed to have darkened to a rich expresso.

So full of shit, her eyes had turned brown !

Lara smiled, her pussy moist and ripe with anticipation.

She couldn’t wait to play Michelle and this one off against each other. She had such amusements planned. Her original intentions for Gemma from the previous evening had subtly changed, now that a third person had been invited to join the party, so to speak.

Lara stood up and sidled over to Gemma. She gazed intently into her bespectacled eyes.

Both of them glared at each other.

Eventually Lara giggled.

“How’s Michelle’s supper ?” she asked.

In truth, Lara knew it would be the next morning before Michelle was delivered but there was no need for Gemma to know that yet.

Gemma looked at her confused for a moment. Then she scowled.

Lara lifted her right hand and slowly ran her index finger down from Gemma’s chin, over her throat, to those heavy, pale breasts, each now goose-bumped with inflamed nettle rash. She idly teased the itching spots a while, scratching up a bit of poison to the surface, then slid her finger sensuously down to admire the gentle curve of Gemma’s distended belly.

“Poor Michelle. Not only will you condemn her by losing control of your disgusting bowels. But then she will have to consume the evidence of your lack of control.

What will she think of you, when she finds out that she would have been found innocent, if only you could just have held out a little longer ? It’ll be enough to make her choke on her food I expect !”

Lara slowly circled her as she spoke, finally stopping behind her back. She knelt and put her index finger at the rim of Gemma’s bottom.

“Curried excrement. Yours. Just imagine !”

Gemma was silent. Her tense body spoke for her.

Lara could tell she had just stiffened her victim’s sinews for yet a few more minutes. Excellent.

Lara pulled on a glove and grasped a fresh green bunch of nettles from a tall vase. She pressed them against the backs of Gemma’s knees, watching her flinch delightfully, tiny pale bumps bubbling up on cherry coloured skin. She pushed them up her inner thighs, and then trailed a single leaf right into the darker skin of Gemma’s brown rim.

At that moment, there was a quiet, but unmistakeable hiss of gas as Gemma passed wind involuntarily, almost over Lara’s hand.

Lara recoiled.

She sniffed. Very quickly an incredibly strong, fetid stench invaded her nostrils. Simultaneously amused and enraged, she walked round to face an obviously terrified Gemma.

“S … sorry …. Mistress.” She said, eyes downcast.

Lara sniffed again, staring at her.

“This …” Lara hissed, “you fucking bitch, is not a democracy ! I can do things that you cannot. For any slave to pass wind without permission is unforgivable. For you, my personal slave, to do so in my face, is ….” She fanned at the air with her hand, lost for words.

“All I can say is,” Lara eventually managed to continue, “that I took that insult very personally.”

A cheering noise from the screen signalled the restart of the ER Show.

“And I can certainly think of some suitable insults to throw back at you over the next few days !”

With that, she hurled down the nettles and gloves and sat back on the sofa, arms folded.


*** *** ***


The inevitable happened after two hours and twenty three terrible minutes. Gemma’s sphincter gave out and a tiny trickle of diarrhoea slid down her inside leg. Lara giggled excitedly. She rushed over and stood facing Gemma, stroking her face.

“Let it out, baby. Game’s over. Michele’s guilty.”

Big, wet, silent tears slid down Gemma’s cheeks. Lara pushed at her stomach firmly, digging in with her elegant red nails.

“Come on. Empty yourself and fill the bucket.”

She walked over to the screen and flamboyantly pressed ‘send’ so that Gemma could see the email depart.

“Guilty ! Don’t say I wasn’t fair. I waited until the verdict.”

Gemma broke into loud sobs and there was a sound from behind her like a torrent of running water. It continued for over fifteen seconds as a horrible stench filled the room.

Lara lifted a pre-prepared, heavily perfumed hanky to her face. She peered round the side of Gemma’s hips down into the bucket, then back at her face.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear ! Poor, poor Michelle.”


That Night


In her separate wing of the large old mansion, Lara was lying face down across the satin sheets. It was difficult to know if she asleep or awake. Two tall church candles in glass containers still flickered, lighting the room with a soft, gentle light.

Also lying face down, in the gap between Lara’s legs, was Gemma. She was ever-so-gently tonguing Lara’s bottom, more of a stroking massage than a sexual act. She had already been doing it for over an hour and she would continue to do it all night.

Each woman was having her own private thoughts about the arrival of Michelle in the morning.


The Next Day


The big delivery cart arrived at the Compound groaning under the weight of twenty cages.

Only nineteen of them were occupied. There were sixteen purchases for Brutus Junior and a pair for Stella.

Plus a single female.

Guards unloaded the filthy, bedraggled occupants and began processing them immediately.

Last out of the nineteen cages came a sexy, angular, strawberry blonde, early twenties, about five feet four tall, with a mass of pretty freckles, blue eyes, and a superb butt.

Her name was Michelle.


End of Part One

The Ballad of Lara and Gemma

The Ballad of Lara and Gemma

Part Two: the Story continues


by Velvetglove





Lara greeted Michelle and the two male guards escorting her.

The young men assisted with the fastening of the silent, sulking new slave into the traditional, ‘stand-up’ spreadeagled position, hanging by metal chains round her wrists with her toned legs splayed by a 42-inch spreader bar. Then everything was adjusted to keep her at just the right height to force her up onto tiptoes, with her arms at absolutely full stretch.

Taut, tight and tense.

Lara stood back admiringly.

Next, the guards buckled a steel and rubber ‘O’ ring gag into Michelle’s mouth. The dental breach fastened behind her head, and under her chin as well, to hold it firmly in place.

Steel springs in the hinges of the gag pushed its two halves in opposite directions, set to maintain the wearer’s jaws wide open under constant tension. The rubber gum shields prevented any danger of biting. There was also a steel flap in the lower half of the ‘O’ that folded back into the mouth, thus keeping the tongue fully depressed and out of the way.

Michelle could not speak except to utter the most pathetic ‘nghs’ and ‘anghs’ but Lara had no intention of listening to her objections anyway.

A few nods to indicate yes or no would be quite sufficient for this initial conversation !

The senior of the two young guards leered happily at Lara. He was in his early twenties, about Michelle’s age. Lara knew he enjoyed working for her and he was a quick learner. He spoke in a rough Cockney accent and swore freely. Of course, neither of them was aware of it then, but he was eventually to play a small but crucial role in the ballad.

He hovered, hoping to be asked to stay.

But Lara thanked and dismissed both guards, then shut the door to her luxurious suite.

Her heart was beating hard and her perspiring fingers trembled with excitement.

She stood and appraised her angry trophy. Gemma had already had her stuffing knocked out by the time that Lara had got hold of her.

By contrast, Michelle was going to present a different, altogether more energetic challenge.

Although she was naked, gagged, helpless, soiled, and undoubtedly exhausted and hungry, there was plenty of feistiness left in those glaring blue eyes and freckled features, distorted behind the brutal breach.

A single drip of drool slid down Michelle’s chin.

Lara silently swooned with the possibilities.

For the moment, Gemma too, was also bound and gagged, hooded and hidden inside Lara’s spare room.

The meeting of the two slaves could wait a while.

Lara had to compose herself. She went into her small, private kitchen and poured herself a cool glass of sparkling water. It was at times like this she wished she smoked cigarettes like Stella.

Something to help calm her down for a few minutes.

She downed the water in two long gulps and refilled her glass. Power is such an extraordinary feeling. You strive for it, and then the moment you have it, you’re sometimes not sure exactly what to do with it.

Several years earlier, before the Pestilence, Lara had just learned to drive. She spent way too much money on too powerful a car. She had the engine to burn off all challengers and yet something, some inhibitor deep within her, prevented her from driving flat-out. Sure, she sometimes let rip when some boy racer or blonde bitch pulled up alongside at the traffic lights, but most of the time she was content to keep within fast, but reasonable, self imposed limits.

Stood in her kitchen, she could hear voices in her head saying ‘go for it’, burn that bitch off the road !

If people were watching her, that’s probably what they’d be shouting now. But she could hear quiet whispers too. Most of them were saying ‘take your time’, you can overtake this bitch whenever you feel like it. Toy with her first, let her feel the fear of seeing your grille in her mirror for a while.

And then there was a solitary voice, so hushed she couldn’t always make it out.

It was murmuring, saying, ‘don’t be too cruel, after all, what has she, what has either of them, done to you ?’

She poured a small amount of the water into the palm of her hand and splashed it onto her face.

Fuck, fuck, fuck !

At last, the voices trailed off and were silent.

Her hand was steady again, her sneer composed.

She walked back into the room and stared at Michelle to disconcert her, walking around her several times to appraise every single naked and helpless inch.

Her face was contorted horribly by the gag, but Lara already knew it was pretty enough, framed by shoulder length, strawberry blonde hair, worn with a neat centre parting. Facially she had to be an 8 or 9 out of 10.

Her skin was peachy, one of those fortunate girls of her auburn-blonde colouring, who can also sun tan. Her face was lightly bronzed now, with freckles round her nose, but her body below the neck was pale. Obviously she hadn’t had much time for sunbathing Lara deduced, smiling to herself ! Her tits were on the small size, no more than a B cup, but a nice, pert handful.

Below her cleavage, she was sensational, with taut abdominal muscles and just the right amount of curves, a stunning rear and perfect trim legs for her height, straining and stretched by the 42-inches spreader bar.

Last of all, Lara studied her ‘private parts’.

Evidently, not so private now !

She had a triangle of soft looking, blonde-tinged-with-ginger, pubic hair and a plump and welcoming vaginal mound, with just the hint of labial pout. Lara was something of an expert on cunts and this one was a genuinely neat and pretty one without the raggedy edges or fleshy excess one sometimes encountered. There was a faintly fishy whiff and other tell tale signs of unwashed penetration and Lara guessed the Stalitz Police had been up to their usual tricks, but she didn’t begrudge them their bit of fun.

Lara was not a jealous lover ! Indeed, it would certainly not be the last time Michelle enjoyed some unwanted male attention. Far from it.

She reached out a hand to feel her tits.

Michelle reacted violently, shaking her wrists and rattling the chains from which she hung.

Unfortunately for her, she could barely move.

Lara smiled and cupped the left breast, rubbing her thumb across the pink nipple.

“Welcome.” She said. “Let’s get the introductions out of the way, shall we ? My name is Lara, but you will call me Mistress. I own you for the rest of your life, or until I sell you, or just maybe, release you.”

She giggled, emphasising the unlikelihood of that last possibility.

“And just so you know, I’m well aware already you’re innocent of the crime you were arrested and sentenced for. You see, I’ve met your dear friend Gemma. In fact Gemma and I arranged for you to be found guilty regardless. It’s thanks to the two of us that you’re here.”

Ooh ! If looks could kill, Lara thought, thrilled.

Michelle’s blue eyes and distorted expression were more eloquent than any verbal reply.

Lara ran her hand down Michelle’s tummy to her vagina and thrust a couple of fingers into it. It was tight but slightly damp, dirty.

“Oh yes ! I see those naughty policemen had their fun. I’ll bet they did you round the back too, eh ?”

Michelle’s eyes flashed, and she shook the chains again.

“I like to be answered.” Said Lara, wedging her third and fourth fingers inside and twisting them.

“Use you head. Nod or shake it to answer me.”

Michelle made a mewling, gurgling sound, objecting to Lara’s digits.

Then she nodded her head.

Lara chuckled. “And how was that ? I’ve never tried anal sex myself. Well, not on the receiving end. I have used a strap-on on others of course. No, when it comes to things in my bottom, I much prefer …” she ran her tongue suggestively over her lower lip and back … “a tongue.”

Michelle stared and then shook her head slightly, perhaps thinking Lara wanted her to reply to her proposal.

Lara smiled indulgently.

“Don’t worry Michelle. All in good time. Gemma was the same at first. And now she loves it. Giving and receiving. When I asked her which of her old friends she would most like to tongue her nasty little arsehole, she chose you. That’s why you’re here.”

Michelle glared back in disbelief and horror.

Lara laughed.

“No. Not really. Just fucking with you. Gemma hates it too. That’s the real reason you’re here. I gave her the chance to win her freedom. In a week’s time, one of you can walk away from here. A free woman ! The other will spend the rest of her life as a latrine attendant in a sadistic lesbian commune. Frankly I’m not remotely fussed which of you wins and which of you loses. I will be scrupulously fair. It will be completely up to you.”

Lara walked around Michelle and put her fingers into her buttocks, prising them open. She slid a finger up the cleft and into her anus.

“My oh my, those Stalitz boys know how to pump an arse full, don’t they ? Tell me the absolute truth.” She whispered into Michelle’s ear. “Had you ever been done up the arse before ? Tried it with a boyfriend or two ? Tell me the truth. I shall know if you’re lying.”

She walked back and stared deeply into Michelle’s eyes.

Michelle held her gaze momentarily then looked away.

Really ? You naughty little slut ! I bet you’ve tried everything haven’t you ? I’ve got a file on you so don’t lie. I know all about Bob and Joan.”

Michelle blinked at the names of her parents.

“And Joan’s only 46, isn’t she ? Still a bit of a looker. You make one mistake, just one lie, one piece of insolence, and mummy dear will be swinging on similar strong chains to these. There are plenty of young lads here who like their meat on the mature, chewy side. Got that ?”

Michelle slowly nodded, starting to listen attentively.

“So. Back to my questions. Do you know exactly how many men you’ve slept with so far ?”

Michelle paused, then shook her head.

No ? Well, not counting your Stalitz studs, would you say it was over or under twenty ? Bear in mind I already have some names on file.”

Michelle jerked her head to signify higher. She also blushed beetroot.

Lara didn’t have any names on file but her ruse was working.

Thirty ?”

Michelle thought a moment, then rocked her head side to side, clearly meaning round about thirty.

“My you have been a busy girl.” Lara smirked. “Talking of which, how about girls ? How many of them have you slept with so far.

Michelle shook her head. None.

Lara smiled approvingly. “Good. Another virgin. I like virgins.”

She leaned and kissed Michelle on the nipple.

Threesome ? Two men at once ? No ?”

Michelle shook her head.

“What about semen ? Are you a swallower, or spitter ?”

Michelle looked at her. She shifted her head from side to side again.

“Bit of both, heh ? Do you enjoy giving men oral sex ? The truth.”

Michelle did her best to shrug.

“Sometimes, right ?”

Michelle nodded.

“I expect it depended on the man, and the moment, didn’t it ?”

Another nod.

“Well, here, it doesn’t depend on anything so whimsical. Here you will suck many men, and you will always swallow, unless instructed otherwise. In a little while, I will show you a movie of your friend Gemma. It’s called “Bukkake Dildo Episode 6”. In it, numerous guys shoot their stuff in her mouth, face and everywhere. She swallows all she can. You’ll love it. It’s hot. We’ll all watch it together. Gemma would love that.”

Lara was making herself naughtily horny now. She needed to climax soon.

“What about watersports ? Did you ever try a bit of piss play ?”

Michelle shook her head firmly.

What ? Never even held a boyfriend’s cock while he pissed. Never pissed over him when you were taking a shower together ? Truly ?”

Michelle just shrugged. She was salivating heavily because of the gag now, and slobber ran down the sides of her mouth onto her chin.

Lara studied a slick of drool that dripped onto Michelle’s tit.

“I can see now why Gemma chose you. You haven’t got a chance. She’s been here for weeks learning this stuff. She can gargle piss without thinking twice. She chose you because you’re inexperienced and a loser. The odds on you winning must be a hundred to one. She’ll be free in a week, the clever bitch.”

Lara studied Michelle’s blue eyes while she spoke. She saw the same flash of anger she’d seen when they first tied her up. She’d sniffed the bait.

“Maybe it’s not even worth having a competition ? Maybe I’ll just send you straight to the lesbian commune and summon Joan here to replace Gemma. And Bob too. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t want to miss out.”

Michelle shook her head violently. The bolts that her chains were fastened to squeaked.

No ? You want to try ? Really ?”

Lara pretended to think for a while, considering. She had plenty of stored up, cold urine in the bathroom.

But her bladder was full and a nice jug of hot, bubbling piss would be a better way for Michelle to begin her lavatorial career.

It would be best for her to see precisely where it was coming from.

“I’ll give you one chance. A preliminary test to see if it’s even worth going onto the main event. Okay ?”

Michelle nodded her head. Enthusiastically even.

Lara smiled at her. She walked to the table nearby and picked up a plastic, wide brimmed funnel and a glass jug. She placed them on the floor by her feet.

Then, without even a hint of shame, she unfastened the belt of her jeans, unzipped, and eased them down her legs off her ankles.

Next she slid her lace thong down and stood in just her blouse in front of Michelle.

“We don’t have any embarrassment here.” She said. “I’m looking forward to watching you perform all your bodily functions for me.”

Lara picked up the funnel and placed it over the jug. She squatted and grinned up at Michelle. Her labia opened and she shut her eyes as a gush of pee sprayed the plastic funnel. Lara sniffed the acrid pong. It continued for well over half a minute. The steady gurgle of liquid filling the jug. She opened her eyes again and caught Michelle grimacing into her gag.

Finally, her bladder was empty and comfortable again.

Lara rose, removed the funnel and revealed the almost full jug of frothy, golden piss.

She pulled her thong back on but left her jeans off. The final object on the table was a syringe. It was a large cooking syringe for applying cream and decorative coatings to cakes. She placed it in the jug and sucked up a large amount until the cylinder of the syringe was full.

A quarter of a pint.

“Still fancy taking the test ? Or do you give up already ?”

Michelle stared back then very slowly nodded her head.

“You give up ?”

Michelle shook her head frantically.

“You want to take the test ?”

Michelle nodded her head up and down manically.

Lara smiled at her.

“Alright then. Mouth open.” She giggled. “Oh, I forgot, it’s open already.” She held the syringe up in Michelle’s face so that she could get a good look. Then she placed the teat into the ‘o’ of the gag and laid it down on the steel tongue depressor.

“If you try to eject a single drop or move your head it’s game over. Understood ?”

Michelle carefully nodded.

Ever so slowly, Lara pushed on the syringe, watching first a few droplets, then a steady flow of piss, disappear from the cylinder.

Michelle’s blue eyes popped wide in alarm but she kept still. Lara watched her throat moving slightly as she tipped her head a fraction. The gag made it almost impossible to swallow so she just had to let it slide down the hatch.

Lara adjusted the angle of the syringe to ensure she coated Michelle’s upper mouth and palate, so she got the full taste.

Gooooooood.” She said, in mock-encouragement, stooping to refill the empty cylinder from the jug with another quarter pint.

This time, Lara squeezed harder, squirting her waste until it backed up in Michelle’s mouth, forcing her to tilt her head right back to avoid it spilling.

“You’re a natural. Maybe you’ll give Gemma a decent fight after all.”

She refilled the copious cylinder until it was half full and the jug was finally empty.

“Last course.” She announced, hosing it upwards and sideways and all around Michelle’s inner mouth and back gums as best she could.

“There we are. All done.” She dropped the empty syringe into the jug. “Well, for the moment anyway.”

Lara ran her hand over Michelle’s throat, between her pert tits and down to her tummy.

“Enjoy the feeling of that passing through your system. Because when you’re ready to relieve your bladder of that, you’ll get the chance to drink it all over again ! And then again. I’m not wasting any precious fresh water on you. You’re going on a steady diet of piss and then recycled piss.”

Michelle’s eyes were stinging wet now, part tears, and part a reaction to the bitterness of the liquid she had just imbibed.

Lara wiped a tear away gently.

“I think it’s time to reunite you with your bosom buddy, don’t you ?”


*** *** ***


Lara lay back on the sofa as Gemma knelt and licked her to repeated climaxes. Lara only rarely had the ability to achieve multiple orgasms.

Only when she was totally turned on and skilfully tongued.

She kept her eyes on Michelle throughout. The girl was still strung up and gagged. Michelle and Gemma had been allowed to look at each other but not to say a word or even gesture to each other, except with their eyes.

She was pleased to note a certain coldness in Michelle’s blue eyes and a blank embarrassment in Gemma’s hazel ones.

Satisfied, at last, Lara pulled a robe on and patted Gemma on the head.

“Good girl. Nice tongue work. That’s three points to you.”

She scribbled 3-0 on a sheet of paper pinned up on the wall by her computer desk.

“So you get the first choice. Give ? Or receive ?”

Gemma stayed kneeling and blinked.

“Give, Mistress.”

“Good choice.” Lara said, with a chuckle.

She lifted Gemma up by the arm pit and handed over her spectacles.

Gemma stood, adjusting them on her nose.

“Fetch a cane from the cupboard.”

Gemma came back with a whippy, crook handled cane.

“Give her six strokes. I will score them. The harder they are, and the more distress they cause your friend, the higher you will score. Don’t stint. She’ll get her turn on you soon enough. And remember, you’re playing for your freedom. For your loved ones’ freedom too.”

Gemma’s jaw dropped. Literally. Lara hadn’t mentioned to her the rules of the new game. She stared at Lara dumbfounded.

“Oh, I forgot. I’m giving one of you the chance to win your freedom. In a week’s time, the winner of my little competition can walk away from here as a free woman. The other will spend the rest of her life as a latrine attendant in a lesbian commune. As I said to Michelle here, I’m not remotely fussed who wins and who loses. I will be scrupulously fair. The result will completely depend on the two of you.”

Gemma glimpsed over at Michelle and then looked back at Lara.

Lara laughed.

“It’s true ! You’ve won yourself a chance to do what every slave dreams of. To win your freedom. But to do so, you must condemn your friend to a dreadful life sentence.”

Lara shrugged as Gemma screwed her eyes shut.

“Six strokes. Hurry.”

Gemma walked slowly behind Michelle and took up position.

Lara felt envious. Michelle’s perfect butt made such a delicious target. She would certainly thrash it herself some time. But for the moment it was so much more effective having her friend do it.

Gemma planted her feet and raised the cane, then swung with all her might.

There was a splat like a tree splitting and a loud ‘nnnngh’ from Michelle’s gagged mouth. Her eyes flew open and then just as quickly screwed tight.

“Oh yes.” Lara said. “Congratulations. A beauty. One more point.”

Gemma swung a second time. A third. A fourth.

“Stop a moment.” Said Lara, giggling. “Let’s examine her arse together.” She joined Gemma behind Michelle and they both looked at the crimson flesh with four distinct wheals bubbling to the surface.

“Feel it.” She said. The skin was hot to the touch. Michelle’s cheeks clenched and unclenched. “Feel.”

Gemma placed her left hand on Michelle’s rump. She looked at Lara, biting her lower lip.

“Lovely isn’t it ? Win this competition and you can be this end of the rod for as long as you like. I’ll find you a job alongside me.”

Lara leaned in and kissed Gemma full on the mouth. For a moment, Gemma’s lips were still. And then she responded. And Lara sensed that it wasn’t just the response of a slave.

Their lips danced briefly together.

Suddenly Lara backed off, mindful of Stella’s warning about falling for a slave. Gemma pulled away too, embarrassed.

“Two more strokes.” Lara said, wiping her lips on the back of her hand and walking back to face Michelle.

She placed her fingers on Michelle’s mound and slid two inside her.

“Careful.” Lara warned Gemma. “Mind my fingers.”

There was another fierce splat.

Michelle’s body inched forward and her cunt clenched vigorously around Lara’s digits.

And then another whoosh, and splat.

Lara thrust her hand to meet Michelle’s body, twisting and spreading all four fingers into a half-fist, looking into her eyes.

Oh ? Last One. What a shame. How about another six ?” Lara asked. “What do you say, Michelle ? Six more ?”

Michelle shook her head, eyes frantic.

“And you Gem ? What about you ? Six more ?”

Lara smiled at Gemma’s uncertainty. Her guilt and confusion. She clearly wanted to win. But she didn’t want to hurt her friend any more than was necessary.

“Or you could swap positions of course. Maybe you’d prefer to hand over the initiative to your opponent ? It’s six – nil, now, after all. Or …”

Lara paused and raised an eyebrow.

“ … or maybe you’ve got a better idea of a way to punish your girlfriend ?”

There was a long silence.

Eventually, Gemma spoke.

“M … maybe we should take her gag off ? It’s been on a long time. I think she could maybe use her m … mouth a … another way ?”

Lara waited, watching Gemma’s eyes, and glancing at Michelle’s.

Yes ?”

“Maybe you should m … make her … pleasure you, Miss ?”

Lara yawned, tapping her fingers to her mouth to emphasise boredom.

“Sorry, Gem dear. You’ll have to do better than that. A lot better. I’d rather watch some action for the moment. Something really hot.”

Gemma looked at her in confusion, almost panic-stricken.

“Something really spicy.”

A gradual expression of realisation dawned over Gemma’s features.

“We could … make … her eat something ?”

Mmm … sounds fun … like what ?”

Gemma looked at her desperately.

“Something spicy … like the curry I had yesterday. Or … like the c … curry I … did yesterday. The di … diarrhoea.”

“Oh lady ! That’s not very friendly. What a wicked idea. Are you sure ?”

Lara’s sneer let Gemma know the correct answer.

“Yes … I’m sure.”

Lara beamed from Gemma to Michelle and back to Gemma.

“Okay, well if you want. Let’s do it.”




The glass cylinder was mounted on a drip feed stand like those they use in hospitals. A clear plastic hose ran from the cylinder to the ‘o’ gag in her friend’s mouth where it had been clamped.

Her ‘ex-friend’.

The contents of the cylinder looked just as awful as Gemma feared; a pulverised deep brown mush, almost liquid, with strands of a more khaki colour, laced with a few small chunks of red, and tiny air bubbles. There were even a couple of undigested toenails visible against the glass that she had swallowed whole that had obviously passed through her system.

The seal was airtight and thankfully, for the moment at least, there was no aroma at all.

There was a tap mechanism. Presumably when the tap was turned, gravity would do its stuff and the mush would flow.

“When you’re ready.” Lara said languidly, from the stool she was sat on.

Gemma attempted to speak to Michelle with her eyes. She had tried pleading several times but her friend just looked away. Those pale blue eyes that had once sparkled at her with mischief and laughter now glinted with undisguised hate.

Slowly, Gemma reached for the tap and turned it clockwise.

She kept turning until it resisted.

Slowly, the brown mush slid down the transparent tube. It was about as wide as a normal garden hose so it accelerated, inexorably, towards the ‘o’ of Michelle’s mouth.

Gemma watched it, morbidly fascinated, as it descended, turned a slight bend, and reached the last few clear inches.

Michelle’s head was tilted back, her jaws held wide open, locked in place by the dental ‘o’ gag, with the steel tongue depressor preventing her from mounting any defence. The hose was fastened to the lip of the gag by a locking clamp.

The first of the brown fluid oozed out of the end of the tube and plopped onto her friend’s taste buds. The aroma seeped back out through the edge of the ‘o’. It hit Gemma like a punch; the sickly, sweet, sour and spicy tang of curried human ordure.

Michelle’s eyes widened in absolute horror and her nostrils flared violently.

Lara laughed out loudly from her stool.

They were three women caught in a terrible triangle: Lara, Gemma and Michelle. One with all the aces and the other two fighting for survival.

There was nothing Michelle could do. The relentless river oozed into her mouth and into the back of her throat. She couldn’t even vomit yet, with her jaws, neck and windpipe effectively immobilised to form a welcoming funnel.

“Stroke her throat.” Lara ordered. “It helps.”

Gemma reached up and put her fingers to her friend’s neck, rubbing gently, trying to soothe.

And still the muck flowed, at a rate equivalent to a spoonful every few seconds, Gemma estimated.

Even at that pace the cylinder would still take over ten, maybe fifteen minutes to empty.

It appeared Michelle was trying to vomit now it had reached her gorge. But it seemed she could do nothing but make tiny gurgling sounds and take her medicine. Beads of sweat had appeared at her temples and her skin shone with perspiration.

Gemma stroked her neck softly, doing her best to help her friend.

“Fascinating, isn’t it ?” Lara asked her. “Don’t worry about the toxins. The curry spices and then our pasteurisation process render it harmless. Except to her ego, of course. For now, she has to be forced to eat it. The fun comes when it is voluntary. That’s the stage I love most.”

“Voluntary … ?” Gemma whispered.

Hah ! Well that’s a relative term. What I mean is not strung up and forced like this. This isn’t a real test. This just proves to her that she can stomach it. That’s why I’m using your waste for now. No, the real test comes when she dives in and guzzles it greedily from a bowl. Gargles it ! That’s when I like to use my own special brew. And that’s the exam I plan for you to directly to !”

Gemma dared to look directly into Lara’s cruel, aquamarine eyes.

“Oh I know.” Lara laughed. “Why ? Anything but this ! All the usual crap questions and pleading.”

She paused as Michelle made a choking sound, then continued.

“Come. Let’s leave her to it. Lick me. I need another yummy cum !”


The Next Day


Lara sat having her breakfast; prune juice, sliced fruit, pancakes and coffee. Gemma squatted at her feet having lapped a slimy gruel of oats and raw eggs from a saucer. They were both watching as Michelle knelt and gave a blowjob to the friendly dwarf who had delivered their breakfast. He was sat on a stool with his uniform pants round his knees twisting his fingers through Michelle’s strawberry blonde locks. She was forbidden to use her hands and he was simply thrusting while she manically jerked her head and slobbering lips up and down over his heavily veined cock.

Okay ?” Lara asked.

He smirked and nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah.”

There is a joke that all men are the same height with their penises standing straight atop their heads. Silly, of course, but the 4’ 2” ex-circus midget could have conducted a one-man campaign to prove the notion might be true.

Lara grinned back at him. She was always amused watching a woman give head. Motivation was a fascinating thing. It amazed her how many girls today couldn’t do a ‘no hands’ blowjob.

To Lara, a handjob was when you used hands, even if you used your mouth as well.

But oral sex should be exactly that ! Mouth only.

All these girls that professed to love their boyfriends and husbands lacked the motivation to do it properly. They were, frankly, lazy. Romantic love was a crap motivator. Great sex was triggered by less fuzzy inducements.

Michelle slurped and sucked and worked harder to please this stranger than she ever had for any of her thirty-odd previous lovers and boyfriends.

And when her crude companion’s shaft eventually pulsed its gunky load like a semi-automatic weapon between her lips she seemed to relish it like it was delicious nectar.

Lara thanked the man for breakfast and poured herself another expresso.

It was black and strong and designed to do the business.

“Right.” She announced. “That blowjob earned Michelle a change of service. It is now Gemma’s turn to perform a few tricks.”

She beamed at the two young women facing her.

Gemma, your dear friend is stinking a bit ripe. It’s quite some time since those nasty Stalitz boys filled her up both ends. Do us all a favour and kneel and lick her cunt clean will you ? And then her arsehole.”

It was interesting, Lara thought. Gemma was so well trained she barely blinked. In seconds, she had dropped onto both knees and put her hands round onto Michelle’s buttocks, pulling her into her face.

Michelle glanced down, shocked, then over at Lara, blushing scarlet.

Despite her strict tuition, Gemma did pause momentarily at the pungent stink emerging from Michelle’s slit. But she soon overcame her revulsion and dived in with her protruding tongue.

Lara studied Michelle.

“Pull her to your clit.”

Hesitantly, Michelle used her hand to guide Gemma’s head. But after another minute, there was still no sign of enjoyment in Michelle’s eyes.

“Turn round and bend right over. Clutch your ankles.”

Lara watched impatiently as she assumed the humiliating pose. Then Gemma drew close to the red tramlines of Michelle’s caned buttocks and buried her tongue deep in her sweaty and soiled anus, without any reaction from either of them.

So, these bitches think they can just play the deadpan game, eh ? No response, eh ? She’d fucking show’em. Or rather, show’em fucking !

Furious, Lara rang the bell for the old crones to enter.




She lay on the sofa under the cameras and bright lights.

It was maybe not the worse thing she’d had to do. But it was close.

The three men were in their sixties, one almost seventy. Each of them had lived in her street when she was growing up. Lara had tracked them down.

Gemma knew their wives. Even their children were ten to twenty years older than her. One of the men was the grandfather of a girl who’d been in Gemma’s class.

She was taking on all three at once.

One man was wizened, with wrinkled skin like a reptile and greasy grey hair. The second was round, hugely fat and bald like an egg. The third, her friend’s grandfather, was surprisingly fit for his age. He had always fancied himself as a bit of a stud with the middle aged housewives. He was now the one underneath with his medically stiffened cock buried in Gemma’s bottom.

She suckled the greasy grey haired one until he was sufficiently erect to penetrate her vagina. Gemma saw the camera lens inches from her face, knowing that Lara might have distributed this DVD around her old neighbourhood within days, if not hours. Momentarily her mind flashed back to the people she’d known there but equally quickly she suppressed the images.

That was then. Now was now.

She spread her thighs awkwardly wide to welcome the man mounting her, as he slid himself in. It meant her bottom clenched harder around the stiff penis in her anus and granddad below thrust himself up into her. The new man’s bony hands joined the other’s as they both mauled her tits, tugging on her nipples, digging into her curvy flesh.

The cock buried itself in her pussy. Unmoving. The man grinned down into her face, clearly savouring the moment.  His breath smelt of tobacco and mints. The two throbbing penises inside her were separated by just millimetres of her body.

Even had she wanted to feel any pleasure from the act, she couldn’t; it felt strange down below due to the numbing of her clitoris. She was devoid of sensitivity.

A mere receptacle.

And then the fat one was over her face. She couldn’t see him above his stomach because his flabby paunch covered her view. His erection was small. One of the thinnest she’d seen in the past month, like a piglet’s tail. But what made her queasy was the sheer vastness of his scrotum. It was totally the opposite to his penis, hanging like a loose pouch the size of a tennis ball with a few grey hairs sticking out. Inside the pouch, two bulges were clearly visible swirling around as he moved. Full of his old man’s gloop.

Slowly, ecstatically, Gemma turned her head and lustily encouraged his fingerdick into her mouth.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, Gemma caught sight of Lara, in the murky recesses behind the lights, splayed in a director’s chair. Lara was watching her intently. But what shocked Gemma was that Michelle had her head buried between Lara’s thighs pleasuring her.

And both women seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Oh, shit !




The expresso was doing its stuff.

Lara watched the three old guys triple-teaming Gemma.

But she was also aware of the ‘bearing down’ feeling inside her. That gradual pressure as your bowels fill and another visit to the toilet won’t be far away. She had always been fascinated. Biology was her favourite subject at school. The human body became her special interest.

She looked down at Michelle. Not bad for a beginner. All women were naturals when it came to muff diving. It was only for this purpose that Lara had finally let her brush her teeth and rinse with mouthwash. Until now she had lived with the lingering taste of yesterday’s ‘meal’ and this morning’s ‘breakfast’.

Soon she would even look forward to the privilege of licking out Lara’s box as she would associate it with being allowed to clean her mouth first.

Michelle’s blue eyes stared up at her, as instructed. So sweet, so placid. Her tongue lapped rhythmically between Lara’s salty folds, nuzzling the sweet spot.

Lara passed wind so silently that Michelle didn’t notice.

Slowly, a sulphurous cloud enveloped the area around them.

She watched, amused, as Michelle’s nostrils gave a little uncertain twitch. Then again. Her blue eyes continued to gaze intently up into Lara’s.

A sweet kid, really.

Lara closed her eyes.


This time she pushed out the fart. It made a delicate ‘pop’.

She reopened her eyes, grinning at Michelle.

Both women stared at each other, thinking their own thoughts.

Lara hunkered back into the seat and changed angle.

There !”

Michelle’s pink tongue slid smoothly from Lara’s cunt to her anus. She kept up the same steady rhythm. A natural when it came to rimming too.

The third ‘pop’ was by far the loudest and most malodorous of the three.




Once, a few years before, when she was 15 or 16 and still a virgin, Gemma had a wild fantasy about having sex with two, or even three, boys at once. It was a wicked, dark dream that she soon got over. Totally unlike her. Her hormones must have been raging at the time.

But she remembered it because it was the first and pretty much only time she’d ever used a vibrator. It was a small pink one her two best friends had given her for her birthday as a tease. She kept it hidden under a floorboard for weeks. But then she’d tried it one night, imagining wicked thoughts of a boy in her mouth and another in her pussy.

The reality was nothing like she had imagined.

The trio were there for one purpose. And one purpose only. To get their rocks off with a nubile body young enough to be their grandkid.

The room now stank of their body odour and a lingering odour of egg sandwiches. The men all had a whiff of mothballs about them.

First, the one with greasy grey hair on top of her spewed into her vagina.

But he stayed on for the ride, his weight heavy on her body.

Then, the fingerdick started mewling like a baby and hissing.

She patiently waited while he covered her tongue and gums with his warm offering then she chugged it back, smiling appreciatively up at him.

Finally, at last, the muscular crone in her bum shot his bolt.

But nothing could have prepared Gemma for what happened next.




Michelle’s nose stroked Lara’s clit another time and that was the one that triggered her climax.

She smiled over at the scene as the fattest one was clearly unloading into Gemma’s mouth, while she let the waves of pleasure rise, crest and subside. She had what she called ‘head orgasms’ and ‘pussy orgasms’ and this one was a delicious blend of the two.

Perfect timing.

It was almost the moment for Gemma’s next treat.




The three crones who had just walked into the studio smiled.

Slowly the men climbed out from over and under Gemma. They looked a bit sheepish but were not overly embarrassed.

Gemma recognised two of the women and guessed the third.

Their wives.

Naked as jaybirds.

All sagging boobs, wrinkled bellies and hanging bits of flesh.

This trio were obviously here for the same purpose. To get their rocks off with a nubile body young enough to be their grandkid.

She watched Lara wrap a robe around her and rise to introduce herself.

Then, within a minute, one of the women had introduced herself to Gemma.

Cunt first.

Straight onto Gemma’s face.

The men all gathered round her head to watch closely.

As another of the women strapped a ferociously large dildo round her waist and hips.

And one of cameramen crouched in low to get a better angle.

Gemma wondered just how much more of this she could take.




She stared at it.

Lara never ceased to be amazed.

She was not a particularly large girl. On the contrary, in fact. And she ate healthily and moderately. Nothing about her was different.

And yet she produced the largest, longest turds imaginable. Bigger than any woman’s she’d seen, and bigger than almost any man’s. Most people produced many more than her, but smaller. Yet her own were like those zeppelin balloon ships. Huge and stately.

For some reason they were often also full of air. She called them ‘floaters’. Since her teens it had been embarrassing, because often hers didn’t flush away, but stayed buoyant and bobbing in the pan as the water disappeared and then refilled. Other girls didn’t seem to have the same problem. At first Lara would cringe as another girl followed her into a cubicle and emerged shrieking about what was still lying in the toilet. Soon she learned to chuckle and laugh it off.

And, nowadays, she was positively proud about such things.

She stared down at it.

Then down at Michelle, who had watched on her knees as Lara performed her morning ablutions. This session comprised just one enormous brown zeppelin and a second tiny nugget.

“Impressive, eh ?”

Michelle gulped air nervously.

“Y … er … yes, M … Mistress.”

“Stick your head in the pan.” Lara said, matter-of-factly.

She said it the way you or I might say ‘Do you have the time ?’ or ‘Could you pass me the salt ?’.

The blue eyes widened, looking up at her.

Lara shrugged.

“Hey, look here. Maybe this’ll help make up your mind.”

She pulled a roll of specially prepared toilet paper from a cupboard. Each sheet of tissue had been printed with a photo of Bob and Joan, lifted from their State File.

Michelle whimpered at the photo of her parents.

Lara bent over and dragged the tissue deeply through her cleft, before pulling it out and inspecting it. She smiled at the brown smear.

“Maybe you’d prefer me to wipe my arse on mom’s actual face instead ?”

“N … no, Mistress.”

Lara nodded approvingly as Michelle stooped and bent her head through the seat into the pan. She waited until she was kneeling in a properly appreciative pose.

“Now stay there.”




Eventually, all six of her elderly ‘partners’ were exhausted.

A tray of drinks and beverages was served by the cameramen. The three ladies took cups of tea while the men opted for cold beers.

Lara entered the room and congratulated everybody on their performances. They all laughed and one of the women asked if she could ‘come again’ sometime.

Gemma stood listening to them discussing her various talents and attributes as if she wasn’t there.

Then they settled down in front of a screen to watch ‘the rushes’; each camera’s uncut version of the film in turn.

Gemma looked at Lara who smirked at her.

“Come with me.” She said.

They walked through to Lara’s luxurious bathroom suite. There was a Jacuzzi tub, a steam shower in the corner, twin basins along one wall, and a day bed, a wall of wardrobes and a dressing table. Things like tubs and showers were luxuries that ordinary mortals had not seen since the days before the great Pestilence that devastated the globe.

And, in pride of place on the wall facing the entrance, there was a toilet, mounted on a low stage, set in a throne.

Michelle was knelt on the stage with her head stuck down the lavatory pan.

“Ah.” Lara said, as if she’d forgotten.

Gemma blinked at Lara’s grin.

She still loathed the cow but she had to hide her true feelings.

She followed two paces behind Lara over to the dais.

“Hallo.” Lara said. “Can you hear me ?”

A muted female voice echoed up from the pan.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. I want you to know that the score at present is 15 points to 12 points in favour of your friend Gemma.”

Lara smiled at her magnanimously.

The score was as much news to Gemma as it must have been to Michelle.

“But … if you manage to pick up my lovely zeppelin in your mouth and emerge with it from the toilet, then you will be leading by 25 points to 15. It’s really up to you. I don’t give a shit either way !”

She winked at Gemma.

“What’s more, you will not even have to eat it. Just lift it out in your mouth.”

Gemma waited, unable to breathe.

“Okay.” The muffled voice replied.

Lara nodded approvingly. “Then do it.”

They watched for ten, twenty, thirty seconds as Michelle’s strawberry blonde head moved about, bobbing and weaving below the toilet seat.

Then, slowly, the curve of her spine straightened and her head emerged, with damp strands of hair visible.

Gemma watched as her friend turned her head to face them.

She was holding a dripping piece of excrement like a gundog with a bird.

It oozed wetness and a small piece fell off one end onto Michelle’s foot.

Her blue eyes gawked in desperate supplication at Lara and Gemma.

“As I said,” Lara chuckled, holding a perfumed hanky to her nose, “you don’t have to eat it. But you do have to stand there holding it like that for a while yet. Good doggy.”

Gemma’s own stomach heaved just from watching and she choked back acid from her mouth.

Michelle stood helpless. It seemed she might puke at any moment.

But Lara merely wandered over to her day bed and lay down nonchalantly.

“Here.” She beckoned to Gemma. “Come and give my toes a pedicure.”

Gemma walked over, knelt and removed the silver bowl and leather pedicure set off the dressing table. She filled the bowl with warm water and placed Lara’s right foot in it to soak.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. In silence. It seemed an eternity.

She scraped, cleaned, filed and buffed Lara’s foot and nails while the left foot soaked. Out of the corner of her eye, she could still see Michelle. The stench was thick but she gradually became accustomed to it.

Eventually, Lara nodded approvingly at Michelle. “That’s enough. You can drop it onto that plate now, between the basins.”

Michelle moved carefully and then opened her mouth to let the foul log, or what remained of it, slide onto a white plate.

“Twenty five, fifteen.” Lara mused, smirking down at Gemma. “To the other team. Who would have thought, eh ? I think you’re in rather a lot of trouble dear !”




She watched them tucking into the lasagne. They were suspicious at first, eyes squinting and nostrils twitching, unsure of what was contained in the food in their bowls.

But Lara knew that ‘carrots’, as well as sticks, disoriented her slaves and fucked with their minds. So, best minced beef and decent sheets of fresh pasta had been used to make this lasagne. Granted the chef might have jacked off or gobbed into the sauce but such things were unlikely to concern a starving pair like Gemma and Michelle.

She smiled at them at her feet, eating without hands from bowls on the floor, their faces snuffling in the meat and sauce.

There was one undetectable secret ingredient in the meal; a strong anti-laxative constipation powder that blocked even the most regular and efficient systems. Lara had tried it on herself for fun. She had been able to stomach less than 36 hours of the bloated feeling, sharp cramps and increasingly severe discomfort before taking the remedy.

The result, twenty minutes after the remedy, was spectacular !

Meanwhile, the digital clock in her room clicked through the minutes.

And, eventually, the girls had licked through the enormous portions until their bowls were clean.

She studied Gemma above all. Trying to read the stubborn bitch’s mind. If only she would give in to Lara, submit and beg her, defeated, accepting, then Lara could spare her. But only then.

There was only one way to judge these things. One set of terms.

Lara’s way. Lara’s terms.

So, that evening, she chose Michelle to give her a relaxing massage and oral. And as she locked Gemma in her tiny wooden cage for the night, she was pleased to detect a touch of uncertainty, humility, desperation, maybe even jealousy, in her eyes.

Each time she climaxed that night, she shrieked super-loud just so that Gemma would hear her.

And when she finally pushed Michelle onto the floor to sleep, Lara was amused to detect a spark of optimism, even triumph, in her blue eyes.

Stupid tart !


Twenty miles away and several hours earlier, the Stalitz policeman held out his gloved hands for their papers.

The middle aged couple fumbled in their pockets and produced them.

The man scanned their photos, their faces, then studied the two documents in great detail.

He shook his head and called over two other policemen.

They unsheathed their batons and pistols.

“I’m afraid these papers are not in order. Climb into the wagon.”

That was that.

The arrest of Bob and Joan took less than thirty seconds.

Naturally, they didn’t know it but, during those same thirty seconds, their daughter Michelle was standing in a bathroom with a rather large and unpleasant thing in her mouth.


The ‘Fucking Bronco’ machines had been constructed several months earlier for a sports-sex competition series produced by The Brute Corporation.

They now stood in a small, out-of-the-way studio near to Lara’s apartment.

They were two exercise horses of the type that were popular at fairgrounds a decade or two earlier. Big torsos of wood in the shape of a horse’s body, each mounted on a solid steel, remote controlled, base that twisted back and forth, up and down, from side to side, like a bucking bronco horse.

But this pair of steeds had been modified. They faced each other like a couple of snarling wild beasts.

Instead of a pommel at the front of the carved saddles, there were two dildoes sticking up from the centre of each saddle.

The front dildo, for the vagina obviously, was angled facing backwards and built for speed not comfort. It was thick, smooth and telescoping. The pink plastic rod retracted to a mere four inches in length then expanded in two stages, first to seven inches, then out to the full ten inches, and then back to seven and four, before repeating the piston. Each expansion and retraction took only half a second. A meaty thrust indeed.

The rear dildo, which as it suggests was obviously for the rear, was angled facing straight up. It was shaped like a fat ‘v’, being much thicker at the top than the base. The brown plastic was also ridged with circular coils along its length. Uncomfortable, yes, but at least it helped keep the rider in the saddle when the action started.

But the fun didn’t stop there. Oh, no. There were single red wires sticking out of the top of each dildo. Each wire was controlled by the opposing horse’s ears.

A turn on the right ear sent a fizz of current to the opponent’s cunt.

A twist on the left ear sent a similar shock to her arsehole.

A rider’s skill came in judging when to use the ears. Each horse’s charge worked in cycles of 30 seconds. The longer somebody waited into the cycle, the more powerful was the shock delivered. But once a shock had been sent, then it was necessary to wait 30 seconds before the horse started charging up again. If a rider panicked and used both her left and her right twists too quickly, she could be left defenceless for a considerable time.

However, if she waited too long and 30 seconds passed without firing, then the charge depleted anyway and she had to wait the full half a minute until it started charging again.

All in all, a game of tactics, cunning, grit, strength and willpower.


Lara ran her hands over her oiled up, constipated and grimacing beauties as they sat naked facing each other on their trusty steeds. She was like a trainer judging her jockeys and stallions before a big race.

The studio was empty and dark but for a pair of halogen spotlights that lit the two women and their mounts on the competition stage.

There were a couple of cameramen and three guards but otherwise Lara had kept this event for her private amusement.

She tweaked Michelle’s small, pert tits.

“There’s a lot riding on this. More than you may think !”

Michelle looked at her, wincing as she shifted her constipated and cramped backside on the ridged anal plug.

Win, and you’ll be near the finishing line. Lose, and …” Lara shrugged, “well, er … we must be positive, mustn’t we ?”

Lara turned and cupped Gemma’s much fuller bosoms.

“And it’s now or never for you my fat friend.”

She pulled away and sat at a desk with monitors and controls.

“You both know the rules. Let’s start the buckers !”

Immediately, there was a crunching, mechanical noise and then a smooth hissing sound as the horses lurched into life. They moved slowly at first, barely shifting up and down or side to side.

After five seconds a green light came on.

The electric charges were now live and building.

Gemma and Michelle stared at each other, like two female gunslingers.

In seconds, Gemma howled and her mount’s right eye flashed red to signal that her anus was being fried by a shock from Michelle. The eye stayed red for barely a second then went dark.

Gemma shook her head like a drunken tart in a nightclub trying to make sense of what was happening. A shining bead of sweat ran down her forehead and dripped off the bridge of her nose.

By now, the horses had begun to move faster, swivelling sharply round in one direction, then back in the other, dipping and bucking, then tilting.

Both women had pressed their thighs together, clenching the horses’ sides, impaling themselves hard on the dildoes for extra grip.

Then Michelle screamed as her steed’s left eye flashed red. Lara knew from the monitor in front of her that Gemma had managed to deliver a savage electrical punch to her friend’s cunt.

A joyous 7.5 out of 10 on the amusement scale.

Two seconds later, Michelle rocked, rolled and bawled as Gemma twisted her horse’s other ear and delivered an 8.5 to Michelle’s rectum.

Lara squirmed in her chair.

Not from pain but from pleasure.

She felt moist warmth between her thighs and her clit buzzed as if it too had been cooked.

It was wonderful to see. Two ‘best friends’ with nothing but anger and aggression in their red-rimmed eyes as they forgot all about their camaraderie.

Michelle now lolled awkwardly on her steed, drool oozing from the corner of her mouth. She had completely missed her opportunity to deliver a counter punch to Gemma’s cunt. The 30 seconds cycle had passed.

Lara smiled and set the horses on a steady but random rhythm. By now they were already bucking and diving at three-quarters speed and inevitably one of the women would fall.

After all, there was no rush.

She watched the monitors counting until both horses’ charges were primed again.

This time the women had learned a lot. They zapped and counter-zapped each other’s genitals, manically trying to focus and concentrate.

The decisive blow happened when one of them managed to deliver simultaneous ‘10 out of 10s’ to fry the other’s orifices.




She sobbed as the two young men, young enough to be her sons, early twenties at most, casually undressed her. In the 12 hours since her arrest, she and Bob had been transported in the back of an open wagon, to a place called The Brute Corporation, and then marched into a wing of the large mansion. Bob was chained up to the wall opposite her.

Her husband had been stripped, spread eagled, gagged and was helpless.

Slowly, clearly highly amused and enjoying themselves, the boys peeled off every ragged article of Joan’s clothing until she was naked.

She was 46 and, until that dreadful moment, proud of her looks. Like her daughter, she was a strawberry blonde, although her colour had dimmed to more of a honey with age. Her breasts were larger than Michelle’s and her other statistics were an inch or two more than her daughter’s, but she was still trim and in good shape.

Certainly trim and fit enough to entertain two specially selected horny lads with acne, body odour and a couple of scrotums swollen with juice.

But two months of rape school had taught them not to rush.

They ran their hands over her naked flesh, probing and pinching and exploring. They helped themselves to Joan’s mouth and nipples, snogging her in tandem. One squeezed her cheeks roughly until her lips pouted for his tongue and the other wrung her tits like he was drying a wet towel.

Plezzmffhh …” she tried to beg and object.

Shhhh !” one of them whispered in her ear, mock-soothingly.

“Let … me … entertain … you.” The other sang, pulling away from her body and walking over to a screen monitor. He switched it on, and smirked first over at her husband, then at Joan.

The monitor flickered into life. For a moment all she saw was a man sat on a stool with his trousers round his ankles. Then her eyes focused.

She realised that Michelle, her daughter, was moving her head between the man’s legs.

It was her daughter. She could tell by the hair, the shape of the head. The man was twisting his fingers through Michelle’s hair. She was performing oral sex on him. The man looked strangely proportioned.

The camera angle shifted and zoomed and she saw a close up of her daughter’s wide stretched mouth and the penis clearly moving in and out.

He was a midget. At least, his body was.

She heard Bob groaning into his gag trying to move in his chains.

The two lads had restarted their assault on her, whilst leaning sideways to make sure that Joan had an uninterrupted view of the screen.

One lapped at the tears running from the sides of her eyes.

“Aw … come on.” The other, who seemed to be the leader of the two, said. “Your fuckin’ bitch likes it. We saw her blow several guys yesterday. Soon the two of you can fuckin suck off both of us, side by side.” His voice was crude, and he spoke with a strong cockney accent.

Wh … where is … she ?”

“Well,” the same one replied, “if she isn’t in shock now, she will be when she sees you !”

Joan winced as both lads began rolling around laughing on her.

“Please …”

She felt two fingers roughly inserted into her dry vagina.

Nnnnaaaah !”

Suddenly there was a sharp blade at her throat.

She edged back as far as she could.

The leader smiled, softly laying the blade onto her neck.

“No doll. I don’t have the authority to cut you up. Lara wouldn’t like it. But she didn’t say nuffin’ about your husband’s dick.”

He pushed up off her and started to move menacingly towards Bob.

No !” she shrieked. “What do you want ?”

“That’s more like it ! A bit of fuckin’ enthusiasm.”

He sheathed his blade. It was a long, serrated steel bread knife.

“Okay bitch. I want you to fucking commentate for me while I fuck your cunt. I can’t see the screen. So you fucking well tell me what your slut’s doing as I do you. Fun, eh ?”

Joan stared up at him, not believing what she was hearing.

“Or do I get my mate here to fucking well carve your hub’s dick for sandwiches ?”

No ! I’ll do it.”

There were suddenly voices from the monitor.

Okay ?” A female voice off screen asked.

The midget smirked and nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah.”

“There were voices.” Joan said, hurriedly. “A woman and a man. She … she asked him something and he replied yes.”

“Not bad.” Cockney said, removing his pants. “The woman’s voice was Lara by the way. Your new Mistress. Now, fuckin’ describe the action for us.”

Joan winced as she felt his hardness roughly penetrating her dryness.

The other man giggled and suckled on her nipple, pulling it.

“Now, she’s … still … sucking him … I don’t … she …”

Joan closed her eyes and tried to think of the dreadful words.




26 elephants … 27 elephants … 28 elephants …

It was as late as she dared leave it. Almost thirty seconds.

Gemma twisted both her horse’s right and left ears simultaneously.

Michelle’s eyes flew wide open and her mouth spread in an agonised ‘o’.

Gemma could see she was trying to scream but no sound came out.

She went completely slack and slumped forward over her mount’s neck. At that moment her horse rotated a semi-circle and reared up.

Too late, Michelle tried to grip on with her thighs and arms, but she had slid too far down one side.

Slowly, agonisingly slowly, her friend slithered down to the ground.

Gemma felt no elation. Just exhaustion. And even slight pity for her vanquished opponent.

Excellent !” Lara rose, clapping. “Great entertainment. Well done. You’ve earned yourself one point.”

Gemma frowned. What ?

Lara grinned at Gemma’s confusion.

“Yes. One point. That’s all you get for winning something like this. Your friend will have the opportunity to stretch her lead this evening. I’m afraid the really big points are reserved for … er … the really difficult tests !”

Gemma scowled as a dagger of constipation pierced her guts.




They had left her with her ankles tied up to her thighs, spreading her open like a set of dying rose petals. She could feel their fluid oozing from her and could see Bob ashamedly stealing glances at her through the ‘v’ of her legs.

She couldn’t speak to him, either to give or receive solace, because like him she had now been gagged firmly with a red ball gag fastened round her head.

Later, maybe an hour or so afterwards, the two lads returned with three more ‘mates’, they called them. All five lads hurriedly took their turns in Joan’s sodden and defenceless receptacle, as if they weren’t meant to be there.

Then, another hour or so after that, a woman entered the room. Alone.

The woman beamed pleasantly at her as if how Joan was arranged was the most normal thing in the world. Her gaze lingered on Joan’s splayed thighs.

Joan put the woman at about 26 or 27, maybe 28 at most. She had an oval face, angular jaw and a refined nose, a bit pinched perhaps, with dark red lipstick and nail polish.

“Welcome to my humble pleasure palace.” She said.

Joan gawped at her, unable to speak because of the gag.

The woman’s extraordinarily glacial eyes, like spheres of aquamarine, sparkled at her with amusement.

Lara, obviously.

“I’m afraid you’ve got caught up in a little game.”

Little game !

The woman’s sharp fingernails were at Joan’s labia, handling them without the slightest sign of embarrassment or care or pity. She splayed them like a woman at a meat counter, testing the tenderness of the filet mignon.

“The game may take a while to play out. In the meantime you will have to pay the rent on your accommodation here. My boys will be back frequently to collect !”

Joan shook her head and uttered a pitiful muffled mewl.

How had this all happened ? What was going on ?

“But let’s look on the positive side. Firstly you’ll be getting some more vigorous fucking than you’ve had in a while, I’ll bet. Probably even some things you’ve never tried before ! And secondly, you now have a role to play in our game. You can be your daughter’s cheerleader. With you on her team, who knows, she may just have the incentive she needs to win !”

Lara turned away from her, striding out of the room.

“I apologise Bob ! With you on her team as well. I almost forgot !”




Constipation is defined medically as passing fewer than three stools per week. The condition is considered severe at less than a single stool per week. There are numerous natural causes of constipation ranging from diets that are too low in fibre, fruit or fluid, to diseases of the parts of the body that affect the colon, to hormonal traumas and abuse of laxatives. Plus what doctors refer to as ‘poor bowel habits’, whatever they mean by that.

But constipation, and even acute constipation, can also be induced by drugs.

The symptoms of acute, drug-induced constipation are much more intense than the gradual onset of discomfort from natural causes; they are extreme wind and an inability to expel it, leading to an increasingly bloated belly, and within hours the onset of stomach cramps and pains; the physical distress in the guts soon transmits itself to the rest of the body, causing lethargy, headaches, nervous tension; and then a desperate need to evacuate the bowel combined with a complete inability to do so; finally gut-wrenching contractions, shortness of breath and a sensation of filling up, stiffness and torso paralysis.

Lara had blended a special cocktail of drugs that combined constipation with mild laxative ‘triggers’ and excruciating spasms of hunger. Both the girls’ bodies and digestive systems were fooled into a cycle of constipation, a dire urge to defecate, and then a desperate hunger for food.

She fed them bowls of mush and beans and fibre, laced with yet more drugs.

Within an hour that had plumped up their systems and initiated another more urgent phase of the same symptoms.

Michelle’s normally slim waist and flat stomach had become distended like something out of a famine documentary. She was curled up in the foetal position, rocking gently from side to side, groaning.

Lara chuckled. Ten minutes earlier, she had at last administered a remedy. Any moment now the laxatives would kick in and Michelle would be able to perform for her.

“Up.” She said.

Michelle turned and blinked, awkwardly pushing her body round.

“Assume the squat.”

When Michelle was eventually squatting on her toes, with her heels together and knees splayed, Lara tucked a rectangular tray beneath Michelle’s buttocks. The tray was white, plastic and capacious.

A couple of the young male guards were watching, amused.

Lara winked at the young cockney lad to hold Michelle’s wrists up above her head to support her.

It was strange how some women hated to be held and watched during their ‘private moments’. Strangely, Lara rather enjoyed it !

“You may begin.”

Michelle looked at her. Her head rolled slightly like a punch drunk fighter. Her expression was only half compos mentis. Her eyes floated in the top of her sockets revealing little more than their whites.

Lara had developed two laxative remedies; one loosened the bowels so much that they released diarrhoea like an erupting geyser. The other only relaxed the bowels sufficiently to allow a painful passing of the stools.

Michelle had been given the latter type.

Slowly focusing, Michelle frowned. She looked up in embarrassment at the male guard and across at her female audience of Lara and an equally uncomfortable Gemma.

Pusssh !” Lara spat, impatiently.

Michelle gritted her teeth and her face slowly turned a shade of puce as she strained. Without warning, her bottom leaked out a shrill whistle of gas.

Lara smirked indulgently. “I forgive you.”

Then, at last, the tip of a stool emerged from Michelle’s anus. She shook her head with momentary relief and then re-concentrated on pushing even harder.

Very, very slowly, the thing became visible like a wooden third leg between her squatting thighs. She grunted, groaned and grimaced in a most unladylike manner, unable to rest her eyes on anything or anybody due to her shame. The guards were staring and mocking and doing all they could to maximise her indignity.

Michelle winced with discomfort at the abnormal thickness of the dry stool as it wormed its way out of her sphincter.

Nnnaaagh ! Ssss … ” she howled, hissing deep breaths to help absorb the pain.

Eventually the tip reached the tray without the top part having broken off. The gargantuan stool now hung down over ten inches in length and the thickness of a man’s wrist.

The guard who was not holding Michelle’s wrists crouched in front of her with a camera and there were several flashes as he recorded the moment for posterity.

It then began to coil round onto the tray before, at last, breaking off and tumbling onto the white plastic. It lay there, now measuring slightly over twelve inches long, glistening and emitting a shimmer of steam, like an axed tree in a forest at dawn.

Lara pouted and nodded her head in approval.

“Nice one.”

She winked over at Gemma, who was watching with a strange expression on her face.

Michelle looked back at her as beads of perspiration covered her forehead and temples. Suddenly she frowned and wailed in distress as her body slowly began to discharge a second vast log to join its sister on the tray.

And then, equally suddenly, Gemma appeared kneeling by Lara’s side. She bent her forehead until it touched the floor in supplication.

Yes ?” Lara asked.

“I … please, Mistress … give me one more chance. I will do it. Please.”




Gemma forced her tongue as deep as she could inside Lara’s immaculate backside. She kissed, and tongued and worshipped, for all the world savouring the salty, metallic taste, trying to let this woman know how much she wanted her liberty.

During the hours since she had made her offer to Lara, everything had been leading up to this moment.

Gemma had been given the same remedy and allowed to evacuate her bowels like Michelle. Then she had been allowed a hot shower, mineral water and make up; luscious mascara and a shiny lip gloss.

Gemma was beaten, and she knew it.

She would do whatever it took, as long as it took, to win.

Fuck Michelle. Fuck everybody. Only freedom mattered !

Whether or not Lara lived up to her freedom promise didn’t even matter.

Gemma couldn’t not fight. She had to try to win. Whatever it took.

She heard Lara giggling like a schoolgirl.

Mmmm … it’s coming.”

And Gemma lay on her back. She rested her head on the floor and thought of her country. Her life. Herself.

Lara straddled her. Her pale buns and brown rosebud hovered.

It winked. Like a corny actress in a slapstick comedy, Lara’s anus winked !

Then it opened like stage curtains and the tip of a brown stool appeared.

“Please,” Gemma murmured, “give it to me.”

She knew that Lara wanted the whole hog. Not just the act, the obedience, but the full adulation.

“With pleasure, my love.”

Gemma opened her jaw as wide as she could. She blinked, blanked her mind and took a deep intake of oxygen.

Then the stool was between her lips, in her mouth, still descending.

She held her breath as long as possible, her mouth motionless.

But soon enough she had to breathe, to taste.

Acid bile belched from her stomach like an erupting volcano. She swallowed the bitter liquid back down and heaved.

There was a turd in her mouth !

Lara’s face was looking at her questioningly. She was grinning down between her own thighs, savouring her conquest.

Gemma couldn’t even speak to object or to beg her one last time.

She parted her jaws as wide as she could then cautiously bit into the mush in her mouth.

She realised she was digging her own fingernails into the palms of her hands so as not to lose control. She chewed through until her teeth met.

Suddenly, Lara swung off her face and crouched down beside her. The huge stool stuck out of Gemma’s mouth like a flagstaff.

“You look terrific darling.” Lara said, sounding very distant.

Gemma took a blurred glance out of the corner of her eye. She whimpered. She was losing it. Every cell in her body was resisting.

“Come, swallow. Victory is within your grasp.”

Gemma tried to swallow the piece she had separated. She went for it whole. Her tongue pressed it down while her throat resisted, like an irresistible force meeting an immovable object. It wouldn’t budge.

“Now, now.” Lara’s tone abruptly changed. “Fucking do it !”

Somehow controlling her need to throw up, Gemma forced it down.

Her eyes watered as another plume of acid rose to the back of her throat and mingled there with the piece of excrement.

She swallowed, retched, swallowed again, her own bile and saliva disguising the worst of the copper and bitter tang, the texture of putrid vegetable.

She realised she had done it.

And then Lara’s manner swung once more, suddenly like a proud schoolteacher.

Yessss …. well done !”

Gemma blinked at her through glazed eyes.

“Enough.” Lara continued. “Spit the rest out. Quick, all of it !”

Pausing only a moment to check she had heard correctly, Gemma rose up onto one elbow and shook her head, spitting out as much as she could. The vast uneaten stool tumbled to the floor, bouncing off her bare breast.

Suddenly Lara was stroking her cheek. Smiling. Not her customary smirk. Or grin. But something else. A light glinted in her eyes. No longer icy aqua-blue, they were like sunlight sparkling off the warm azure of the Mediterranean Sea.

“It’s not about the scat.” She smiled at her. “Sure, at first it was. And with Michelle it still is. But with you it became about ‘us’. I needed you to do that. Just once. You will never have to do that again. If you want to try, to please me, fine. But I will not make you. Ever again. I promise.”

Gemma stared, incredulous. Her mouth tasted horrendous but her head felt euphoric. She tried to speak.

Lara hushed her with her slender finger.

“No need to say anything darling. You’ve won. We’ve won. You’re free !”

Gemma squeezed her eyes shut.

She couldn’t quite believe it !




Over the next day, Lara gave Michelle every opportunity to save herself.

And to save her parents.

Ten tricky-but-not-impossible, degrading-and-disgusting-but-not-deadly, tests to pass during a twenty four hours exam. Michelle took her tests while Lara and Gemma watched and made love, in a laughing, mingling bundle of limbs and orgasms. Well, for her, anyway. In time, Gemma’s clit would get its sensitivity back. She looked forward to pleasuring her lover.

Lara generously brought Joan into the tests to try to earn bonus points.

Both women tried their hardest.

And even Bob did his bit at the end.

But sadly it was not to be.

Just as she had promised, on the day that Michelle had arrived, one of them would earn her freedom.


And the other would spend the rest of her life as a latrine attendant in a sadistic lesbian commune.


Where Lara had fibbed slightly was in saying that she was not remotely fussed which of them won or lost, and that she would be scrupulously fair. That wasn’t, with hindsight, true. The cards were always heavily stacked against Michelle and her loved ones.

And now the loser was bidding them farewell.

Bidding her guards farewell.

Blowing the young lads for one last time alongside her mum. The two naked women were on their knees sobbing and sucking the line of callous youths.

And next to Lara sat Gemma. Watching them. The two fully clothed lovers reclined in seats eating grapes and holding hands. Gemma was dressed in one of Lara’s simple white cotton dresses and a pair of flat sandals.

The final lad was the cockney, alternating his erection between mother and daughter’s mouths, uttering obscenities and slapping their faces.

“Come.” Lara said to Gemma. “Let’s take our leave.”

She didn’t wish to witness Gemma’s heartbreak as her friend was taken away. It would be more fun to retire to her bedroom instead. She could always watch the departure on screen later.

Lara stood next to the kneeling Michelle.

“Goodbye, my dear. Enjoy yourself.” She whispered.

Then she nudged Gemma with a smile, indicating for her to say goodbye too.

Lara watched her darling bite her lip a moment and then shrug.




Gemma felt a fleeting pang of guilt.

But the moment passed. After the Pestilence everything had changed. What was she to do ? Sacrifice herself ? It was dog eat dog. Kill or be killed.

Not her fault.

She shrugged.

“Bye, Mich’.” She bent low to murmur into her friend’s ear. “I’ll be thinking of you.”

What actually happened next only became clear once the CCTV footage was viewed by others later. The moment seemed to last several slow-motion minutes but in reality it took just a few violent seconds.

Firstly, the cockney guard howled and stooped over in agony.

Joan had bitten down hard on his penis.

Within a split second, Michelle had seized the long knife from the scabbard in the guard’s belt.

She shifted it in her grip, turned with a look of terrible fury in her red-rimmed eyes towards Gemma, and struggled two short steps on her knees.

Then she lunged.

A blurred flash of serrated steel bread knife, and Michelle’s snarling teeth in a grimace of triumph, were the penultimate things that Gemma would ever see.






Later, the doctor confirmed the knife had plunged directly into Gemma’s heart.

A symbol.

And lethal.

An inch to the left or right and she might have survived.

Gemma died in Lara’s arms, the white cotton dress soaking ruby red as her lifeblood pumped out. Lara looked down, willing her love to live in spite of what both female intuition and biological studies told her was inevitable.

Her tears were the very last thing that Gemma saw, as all around them was mayhem.

The two women seemed to exist in a bubble.

Lara softly crooned in mourning to Gemma’s closed eyelids:


“Somewhere my love,

there will be songs to sing.

Although la .. la

la … la, la .. la of spring”


She didn’t know all the words, just humming the tune in parts. Somebody had rushed to fetch Doctor Thorne. While the guards subdued Michelle, Joan and Bob, forcing them down into a hogtie position, Lara ignored them all.


“… till then, my Gem,

Think of me now and then.

Godspeed my love

'Till you are mine again.”


The dreadful revenge that she wrought on the murderers was no comfort.

The past few days had been the moment in her young life when Lara might have been saved.

Before it was too late.

Saved from her past, her present.

Her future.

Saved by a mysterious, sweet, innocent, helpless, prim, heterosexual, ultimately doomed slavegirl.

And from that moment on, Lara was doomed herself.

But that’s another story. Maybe for another day.

For now, the strange, tragic Ballad of Lara and Gemma is over.



The End

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