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Mine Misery
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
windar
Teller of Tales
True, but Barb might have been cranky instead of "accomodating".
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
I've never noticed Barb being cranky, a sweeter, more good-natured person would be hard to find.
windar
Teller of Tales
Careful, OS. If I hadn't just put my coffee cup down, you would owe me for a new laptop
Careful, OS. If I hadn't just put my coffee cup down, you would owe me for a new laptop
He owes me for a new pair of lungs.
Worst coughing fit in history
Careful, OS. If I hadn't just put my coffee cup down, you would owe me for a new laptop
He owes me for a new pair of lungs.
Worst coughing fit in history
Enough you two!!!!
Sweet of you OS!!!
windar
Teller of Tales
Sweet of you OS!!!
Barb needs a sarcasm meter to go with her loathometer.
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
Enough you two!!!!
Sweet of you OS!!!
Can I have a bit of what Charles is having, now?
When pigs fly ....
windar
Teller of Tales
Actually, since you and OS are slaves, it's for your owners to decide, isn't it?When pigs fly ....
I can't find him anyone but there was an artist called 'Le Chat' at the turn of this century who did simple but eloquent line drawings. One was 'When Pigs Fly' where in the first frame two somewhat incestuous sisters are talking. One sister is trying to convince the other to be spit-roasted. Her sister isn't too enthused with the idea replying "when pigs fly".When pigs fly ....
In the second frame a pig flies past them.
In third frame the sister is shaved and spit-roasting!!!
windar
Teller of Tales
Chapter 8 Reversal of Fortune (Sarah)
Charles treats me like a child, hiding things from me to “protect” me. Bullshit! I am a grown woman and need to know our situation, however awful it might be. That was how I found myself in Charles’ office one evening while he was who knows where, doubtless spending money we didn’t have on entertaining himself with some whore. I had left Amy sleeping in our bed after a delicious session of love making and crept downstairs.
Charles’ papers were a mess, but after a half hour or so of looking, I had found the documents that finally made the dire situation clear. The mortgage stipulated the payment, one I knew Charles couldn’t make, and the due date, which was only two days off. Towards the bottom was the part I dreaded reading-Actions in Case of Default-“All land and chattel and the Borrower’s Person, Spouse and Issue shall be forfeit to be sold to cure the default in whole or in part.” I was not a lawyer, but I knew enough to be confident that meant that Charles and I would be sold into slavery if we couldn’t pay the debt. Me, a slave, to toil for the rest of whatever life would remain on some plantation or mine because of Charles’ foolishness and the drought.
And in the same folder as the mortgage was a letter from the bank dated two days ago. It was difficult to focus with my eyes filled with tears, but the following phrase was all I needed to see: “We regret that in view of the difficult circumstances in the agricultural sector, no extension will be possible.” So the hope Charles had dangled in front of me was fruitless. I should have known. I broke down sobbing. It was all too much.
Eventually I got enough control to make my way upstairs and get back into bed with Amy. I couldn’t bear to wake her with such awful news, so I snuggled next to her and tried to get a few hours of sleep. In the morning I told Amy that there was no possibility of hope-we were to be sold as slaves. I vowed I would do everything I could to ensure we were sold together.
That day, I called on several fellow plantation owners in the neighborhood with whom we had been friendly, begging for help. All were sympathetic, but none could or would help. Times were hard for them too.
Finally, Charles came home, looking worse than I had ever seen him. I softened a bit-this had to be hard on him too. After all it was the end of the life he had known, just as it was for me. I told him I knew everything.
He hugged me, tears in his eyes. “My darling Sarah,” he sobbed, “I am out of answers. Tomorrow the loan is due and we have no hope of paying. Our freedom will be forfeit. Doubtless, they will separate us and we will likely never see each other again.”
“Can I at least be sold together with Amy?” I asked. “She is such a comfort to me.”
“It is not in my power,” he replied, “But I know the mine where I sold Barb and Pat is eager for more women workers, so there is a good chance you will both go there. Where they will send me, I do not know, but it will likely be far from here.”
“Are you saying that I will have to toil in the mine beside those two whores, Charles?” I started sobbing. “You know how I despise them both, not to mention your scandalous, late-night liaisons with them. That is just too much for me to bear.”
He stroked my hair, which was damp with tears. “I know, my love, life is so unfair. But you are so strong that I know you will find a way to get through it.”
We were both so distraught that I sent Amy to her own room and Charles and I made love one last time, falling asleep in each other’s arms as we had when we were first married.
Charles treats me like a child, hiding things from me to “protect” me. Bullshit! I am a grown woman and need to know our situation, however awful it might be. That was how I found myself in Charles’ office one evening while he was who knows where, doubtless spending money we didn’t have on entertaining himself with some whore. I had left Amy sleeping in our bed after a delicious session of love making and crept downstairs.
Charles’ papers were a mess, but after a half hour or so of looking, I had found the documents that finally made the dire situation clear. The mortgage stipulated the payment, one I knew Charles couldn’t make, and the due date, which was only two days off. Towards the bottom was the part I dreaded reading-Actions in Case of Default-“All land and chattel and the Borrower’s Person, Spouse and Issue shall be forfeit to be sold to cure the default in whole or in part.” I was not a lawyer, but I knew enough to be confident that meant that Charles and I would be sold into slavery if we couldn’t pay the debt. Me, a slave, to toil for the rest of whatever life would remain on some plantation or mine because of Charles’ foolishness and the drought.
And in the same folder as the mortgage was a letter from the bank dated two days ago. It was difficult to focus with my eyes filled with tears, but the following phrase was all I needed to see: “We regret that in view of the difficult circumstances in the agricultural sector, no extension will be possible.” So the hope Charles had dangled in front of me was fruitless. I should have known. I broke down sobbing. It was all too much.
Eventually I got enough control to make my way upstairs and get back into bed with Amy. I couldn’t bear to wake her with such awful news, so I snuggled next to her and tried to get a few hours of sleep. In the morning I told Amy that there was no possibility of hope-we were to be sold as slaves. I vowed I would do everything I could to ensure we were sold together.
That day, I called on several fellow plantation owners in the neighborhood with whom we had been friendly, begging for help. All were sympathetic, but none could or would help. Times were hard for them too.
Finally, Charles came home, looking worse than I had ever seen him. I softened a bit-this had to be hard on him too. After all it was the end of the life he had known, just as it was for me. I told him I knew everything.
He hugged me, tears in his eyes. “My darling Sarah,” he sobbed, “I am out of answers. Tomorrow the loan is due and we have no hope of paying. Our freedom will be forfeit. Doubtless, they will separate us and we will likely never see each other again.”
“Can I at least be sold together with Amy?” I asked. “She is such a comfort to me.”
“It is not in my power,” he replied, “But I know the mine where I sold Barb and Pat is eager for more women workers, so there is a good chance you will both go there. Where they will send me, I do not know, but it will likely be far from here.”
“Are you saying that I will have to toil in the mine beside those two whores, Charles?” I started sobbing. “You know how I despise them both, not to mention your scandalous, late-night liaisons with them. That is just too much for me to bear.”
He stroked my hair, which was damp with tears. “I know, my love, life is so unfair. But you are so strong that I know you will find a way to get through it.”
We were both so distraught that I sent Amy to her own room and Charles and I made love one last time, falling asleep in each other’s arms as we had when we were first married.
windar
Teller of Tales
The pension plan sucks.
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
I thought sucking would be involved for the girls.
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
Renewed romanticism caused by distress.
windar
Teller of Tales
Chapter 9 Sarah’s Intake (Sarah 2)
They knocked at the door early the next morning. I quickly got dressed, as did Charles and we went downstairs to find that Amy, dressed as well, had let them in. There were eight men, seven armed with rifles, one armed with a briefcase, all strangers to this area. The bankers knew my father was Sheriff of the next county and that he knew our Sheriff well and he might try to protect me, so they sent men from far away, perhaps from where the bank’s headquarters were.
The one with the briefcase laid it on the table, opened it and extracted a folder. “I am authorized by the bank to demand the payment that is due today.”
“I’m sorry, but I do not have the money available at this time,” Charles replied.
“In that case, your land, including this house, your spouse, any slaves or animals and your person are forfeit as security. Take them into custody.”
“Right now?” I protested. “Surely we can have some time to arrange our affairs?”
“The bank was very explicit in their instructions. No further delays. You have already been sold and the buyers are entitled to delivery. Now shackle them.” Two of the men put their rifles down and extracted shackles and a key from a bag that one of them had laid on the floor. One of them knelt in front of Charles and placed a shackle around each of his ankles, while the other placed one around my left ankle. A third man pushed Amy over next to me and attached the other shackle to her right ankle.
Then, one of the men grabbed my arm roughly and began moving me toward the door. “What do you think you’re doing? Let me go!” I yelled. I didn’t see it coming, but I heard a loud “Whack!” and felt a burning fire across my ass. Shocked, I fell to the floor taking Amy down with me.
When I looked up, a man was standing over me with a vicious looking strap. “Now you either do what you are told, Sarah, or your ass will become very friendly with this strap.” Just Sarah, he called me, like a slave, no Mistress.
Rubbing my behind, trying to quench the fire, I got up, helped Amy to her feet and let them lead us outside. There, waiting for us, were two horse-drawn carts. The men lifted Charles onto one and me and Amy onto the other. One man took the reins of each cart while the others mounted their horses. We rode off through the plantation gate to the road. Our cart turned left, while Charles’s turned right. I suspected that was the last time we would see each other.
We rode most of the day through the desiccated countryside. Most of the fields were barren as ours were and the wind blew the soil about so that we and everything else were coated with a thick layer of dust. Eventually we began climbing into the hills, where there was forest, rather than farms. It was nice to see green, though some of the trees, stressed by the lack of rain, had begun dropping their leaves.
Finally, we arrived at what I assumed was the salt mine that Charles had sold Barb and Pat to. Now I was to be a slave there, no better than them, working at the whim of overseers. I began sobbing, holding onto Amy for comfort, though she was sobbing too, for, though she was legally a slave, as my confidant, she had been shielded from the indignities that appeared certain to be coming our way.
And there, among our welcoming committee, was George, the former overseer at our plantation whom Charles had fired because he had suspected him of helping Barb and Pat to escape. I knew he hated me, blaming me for persecuting them out of jealousy over Charles’s dalliances with them. And now he would doubtless have power over my body and my life.
“Well, look who’s here!” George whistled. “It’s my old Mistress, Sarah, and her sidekick, Amy. Oh how the mighty have fallen!” He grinned menacingly, as he grabbed the chain that attached our ankles, pulling roughly, yanking us out of the cart onto the hard ground. “On your feet, you two lazy sluts, let’s go!” he shouted.
Frightened, I scrambled to my feet, helping Amy up. George grabbed my hair and yanked me in the direction of a small rough-hewn building. Amy tried hard to keep up but the shackle dug into my ankle as she dragged behind. Finally, we reached the building.
Inside, his face lit by the glow of a lantern, was a burly man sitting behind a table. “Good evening, ladies,” he said, with a leering smile on his face. “Joe is my name and I’m in charge of this here salt mine where you will be toiling for the foreseeable future. Now, Sarah, George tells me used to be a high and mighty mistress of a plantation with over a hundred slaves and he used to work for you. Is that right?”
I didn’t see much possibility to deny that. “Yes,” I replied meekly.
“Seems that you have had a bit of a reversal of fortune, then,” he chortled. George and the other man laughed. “We’ll see if we can’t help you make the adjustment to your new role. First thing you need to realize is that you are a slave. That means you do everything you’re told immediately and without question or you will be whipped. Just like the slaves on your old plantation. Is that clear?”
It seemed impossible that this was happening, but neither Joe nor the other men seemed to be kidding. “Yes,” I said, meekly.
“Now the next piece of business is that slaves in this mine work naked until they earn the right to wear clothes. And besides, we need to search you for contraband. So let’s get those clothes off on the double, both of you.”
Amy began unbuttoning her blouse, but this was all too much for me. I burst into tears. “You want me to be naked, in front of all you men?”
Joe stared at me, like a cat eyeing a helpless bird. “Jake, would you and George help this fine lady out of her clothes?” Before I knew what was happening the two men grabbed my blouse and tore it open, the buttons flying everywhere, then yanked the fabric off me, throwing the crumpled material on the floor.
I was struggling and screaming, “No, you can’t, stop!” but Jake grabbed me from behind while George lifted my bra over my breasts, pawing them lasciviously in the process, then turned it back to front, undoing the clasps and sliding it off me, leaving me bare from the waist up.
“Now, you want to do the bottom part yourself or you need help, Sarah?” Joe asked, leering at me.
Panting from the exertion and the anger I felt towards these beasts, I muttered, “I’ll do it.” I bent down, removed my shoes and stockings and undid the waistband of my skirt, sliding it down to the floor, leaving me only in my panties. I glanced over and saw Amy was already naked.
“Them too,“ Joe ordered. Blushing with shame, I tentatively lowered my panties letting them drop to the floor where they lay on top of the shackle on my ankle, along with the rest of my clothes. Now that I was naked, Jake let me go, but not before he felt up my ass, giving it a final slap. I heard him mutter something, doubtless obscene, but I decided it was best to let it pass.
George was looking me up and down hungrily. “I always thought you were a hot piece of ass, Sarah, and now I can see just how right I was.” He reached out and stuck his hand between my legs. I twisted to get away telling him to stop. In response, he just dug his hand into my pelvic bone painfully. “You aren’t the boss anymore, Sarah. Here, I am the boss and your body is for me and the others to do with as we please. You got that?”
I was too shocked to know what to say in response. Joe saved me from having to speak. “You’ve caused us enough trouble for now, bitch. String her up and give her a dozen lashes for her insolence. Teach her what being a slave means.”
George grabbed me in a bear hug from behind, his hands squeezing my tits painfully, while Jake knelt and undid the shackle from my ankle and then from Amy’s. He threw my clothes, or former clothes, over to the table where Joe sat. Joe picked up my underwear and sniffed it a couple of times before depositing it with the rest of the garments.
Then, Jake grabbed two pieces of rope from another table and tied my left ankle to a ring set into the floor, before yanking my legs apart and tying my right ankle to another ring. Then, he wrapped a longer rope around my wrists, got up on a chair, yanked my arms over my head and pulled the other end of the rope through an eyelet attached to the ceiling and made it fast.
I was now stretched out, helpless. Peering behind me, I could see that George had a bullwhip, just like the one he had used on our slaves on the plantation, as when he had whipped Barb and Pat after I had had Amy set them up for punishment. “Amy, go stand in front of Sarah and watch her suffer,” George ordered. “And know that if you cause any trouble, you can expect the same.”
I saw Amy come around and stand in front of me, gawking, shocked to see her former mistress stretched out, naked and about to be whipped as so many slaves had been on the plantation. A second later, I heard the whoosh of the leather flying through the air and a sound like a gun firing as it hit my back, throwing my entire body forward to the limit of the mobility allowed by the ropes that bound me.
Then, everything was obliterated by the raging fire in my back. Waves of pain and nausea coursed through me. Before I could recover, there was a second lash adding agony on top of agony. By the third, I had gulped enough air to scream my protest to the heavens. Amy covered her ears and turned away, unable to observe my torture. Jake grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look at me. “You watch your stuck-up mistress get what she deserves, bitch.”
As further lashes fell, I begged for mercy, yelled, twisted madly in my bonds. I wondered how the slaves on the plantation had stood the two, three or even four dozen that Charles or I had so casually ordered, when I was barely halfway through one and was beside myself with suffering and desperation. Pitilessly, with no concern for how I would manage, George continued until the full dozen had been given and I hung there exhausted, weeping and moaning from the agony and the knowledge that this was my future as a slave and from the deep regret over how many poor slaves had suffered like this because of my selfishness and pettiness.
Through the agony of my still burning back, I heard Joe’s gruff voice. “Alright, boys, take her down and let’s get these bitches processed.” I felt the ropes being undone from my wrists; my weight no longer supported by the ceiling, I collapsed, totally drained onto the floor. I saw George kneel to untie my ankles. He slammed his boot into my butt, not full force, but enough to hurt. “Get up, you lazy, worthless slut.”
Scared of incurring further wrath, I dragged myself to my feet, each movement sending jabs of agony through the battered flesh of my back. “Alright, both of you over the desk; it’s inspection time,” Jake ordered. I bent over the desk, dreading what I suspected was coming next. Amy positioned herself beside me.
Roughly, with no care for the distress he was causing, George inserted a finger into my anus, probing deeply as my bowels contracted around it, then removed it and inserted it into my vagina. It was the most humiliating thing I had ever experienced and I wanted desperately to stand up and protest vehemently, but I knew that would just earn me another whipping.
“Hey, Joe,” George said, “I’m feeling a bit horny. We got time for a quickie?”
“Sure, George, you worked hard showing this bitch the way things work here, so you deserve a little reward,” Joe replied. I turned my head as much as I could and saw George lowering his trousers and removing his dick, which was pointing straight up, looking very large and hard. Before I could do anything, he placed a hand on my neck to hold me down and was inside me. Glancing over to my right, I could see that Jake was having his way with Amy.
I can’t say that George’s thrusts were painful. Nor can I say they were pleasant. They just were something that I had to accept. Allowing it didn’t make me a whore, it just made me a slave trying to survive and avoid something worse that would be certain to occur if I tried to refuse.
Finally, with a deep groan, George finished inside me, and, shortly thereafter, I heard Jake come inside Amy. Joe looked up from his papers. “How was she?” he asked.”
“Great,” I heard George reply as he pulled out and slapped my ass. “I always wondered what you’d be like to fuck, Sarah, and now I know. You want a turn, Joe?”
Joe smiled. “Yeah, why the hell not?” and stood up to move behind me. It wasn’t long before he was rutting away. I only hoped he wouldn’t last too long, and he didn’t.
Their lusts satisfied, George and Jake attached iron collars around our necks and gave us our numbers, 1725 for me and 1726 for Amy. Then they shackled us together by the ankles and led us through a series of tunnels, past crews of naked women toiling away. I was too exhausted and sore to notice much, but eventually we reached a large chamber where perhaps a hundred women were lying, sleeping off the exhaustion of their work shift, hoping to have the strength to do it all again tomorrow. I suspected Barb and Pat were among them, but it was too dark to see well and I was too distraught to care.
They knocked at the door early the next morning. I quickly got dressed, as did Charles and we went downstairs to find that Amy, dressed as well, had let them in. There were eight men, seven armed with rifles, one armed with a briefcase, all strangers to this area. The bankers knew my father was Sheriff of the next county and that he knew our Sheriff well and he might try to protect me, so they sent men from far away, perhaps from where the bank’s headquarters were.
The one with the briefcase laid it on the table, opened it and extracted a folder. “I am authorized by the bank to demand the payment that is due today.”
“I’m sorry, but I do not have the money available at this time,” Charles replied.
“In that case, your land, including this house, your spouse, any slaves or animals and your person are forfeit as security. Take them into custody.”
“Right now?” I protested. “Surely we can have some time to arrange our affairs?”
“The bank was very explicit in their instructions. No further delays. You have already been sold and the buyers are entitled to delivery. Now shackle them.” Two of the men put their rifles down and extracted shackles and a key from a bag that one of them had laid on the floor. One of them knelt in front of Charles and placed a shackle around each of his ankles, while the other placed one around my left ankle. A third man pushed Amy over next to me and attached the other shackle to her right ankle.
Then, one of the men grabbed my arm roughly and began moving me toward the door. “What do you think you’re doing? Let me go!” I yelled. I didn’t see it coming, but I heard a loud “Whack!” and felt a burning fire across my ass. Shocked, I fell to the floor taking Amy down with me.
When I looked up, a man was standing over me with a vicious looking strap. “Now you either do what you are told, Sarah, or your ass will become very friendly with this strap.” Just Sarah, he called me, like a slave, no Mistress.
Rubbing my behind, trying to quench the fire, I got up, helped Amy to her feet and let them lead us outside. There, waiting for us, were two horse-drawn carts. The men lifted Charles onto one and me and Amy onto the other. One man took the reins of each cart while the others mounted their horses. We rode off through the plantation gate to the road. Our cart turned left, while Charles’s turned right. I suspected that was the last time we would see each other.
We rode most of the day through the desiccated countryside. Most of the fields were barren as ours were and the wind blew the soil about so that we and everything else were coated with a thick layer of dust. Eventually we began climbing into the hills, where there was forest, rather than farms. It was nice to see green, though some of the trees, stressed by the lack of rain, had begun dropping their leaves.
Finally, we arrived at what I assumed was the salt mine that Charles had sold Barb and Pat to. Now I was to be a slave there, no better than them, working at the whim of overseers. I began sobbing, holding onto Amy for comfort, though she was sobbing too, for, though she was legally a slave, as my confidant, she had been shielded from the indignities that appeared certain to be coming our way.
And there, among our welcoming committee, was George, the former overseer at our plantation whom Charles had fired because he had suspected him of helping Barb and Pat to escape. I knew he hated me, blaming me for persecuting them out of jealousy over Charles’s dalliances with them. And now he would doubtless have power over my body and my life.
“Well, look who’s here!” George whistled. “It’s my old Mistress, Sarah, and her sidekick, Amy. Oh how the mighty have fallen!” He grinned menacingly, as he grabbed the chain that attached our ankles, pulling roughly, yanking us out of the cart onto the hard ground. “On your feet, you two lazy sluts, let’s go!” he shouted.
Frightened, I scrambled to my feet, helping Amy up. George grabbed my hair and yanked me in the direction of a small rough-hewn building. Amy tried hard to keep up but the shackle dug into my ankle as she dragged behind. Finally, we reached the building.
Inside, his face lit by the glow of a lantern, was a burly man sitting behind a table. “Good evening, ladies,” he said, with a leering smile on his face. “Joe is my name and I’m in charge of this here salt mine where you will be toiling for the foreseeable future. Now, Sarah, George tells me used to be a high and mighty mistress of a plantation with over a hundred slaves and he used to work for you. Is that right?”
I didn’t see much possibility to deny that. “Yes,” I replied meekly.
“Seems that you have had a bit of a reversal of fortune, then,” he chortled. George and the other man laughed. “We’ll see if we can’t help you make the adjustment to your new role. First thing you need to realize is that you are a slave. That means you do everything you’re told immediately and without question or you will be whipped. Just like the slaves on your old plantation. Is that clear?”
It seemed impossible that this was happening, but neither Joe nor the other men seemed to be kidding. “Yes,” I said, meekly.
“Now the next piece of business is that slaves in this mine work naked until they earn the right to wear clothes. And besides, we need to search you for contraband. So let’s get those clothes off on the double, both of you.”
Amy began unbuttoning her blouse, but this was all too much for me. I burst into tears. “You want me to be naked, in front of all you men?”
Joe stared at me, like a cat eyeing a helpless bird. “Jake, would you and George help this fine lady out of her clothes?” Before I knew what was happening the two men grabbed my blouse and tore it open, the buttons flying everywhere, then yanked the fabric off me, throwing the crumpled material on the floor.
I was struggling and screaming, “No, you can’t, stop!” but Jake grabbed me from behind while George lifted my bra over my breasts, pawing them lasciviously in the process, then turned it back to front, undoing the clasps and sliding it off me, leaving me bare from the waist up.
“Now, you want to do the bottom part yourself or you need help, Sarah?” Joe asked, leering at me.
Panting from the exertion and the anger I felt towards these beasts, I muttered, “I’ll do it.” I bent down, removed my shoes and stockings and undid the waistband of my skirt, sliding it down to the floor, leaving me only in my panties. I glanced over and saw Amy was already naked.
“Them too,“ Joe ordered. Blushing with shame, I tentatively lowered my panties letting them drop to the floor where they lay on top of the shackle on my ankle, along with the rest of my clothes. Now that I was naked, Jake let me go, but not before he felt up my ass, giving it a final slap. I heard him mutter something, doubtless obscene, but I decided it was best to let it pass.
George was looking me up and down hungrily. “I always thought you were a hot piece of ass, Sarah, and now I can see just how right I was.” He reached out and stuck his hand between my legs. I twisted to get away telling him to stop. In response, he just dug his hand into my pelvic bone painfully. “You aren’t the boss anymore, Sarah. Here, I am the boss and your body is for me and the others to do with as we please. You got that?”
I was too shocked to know what to say in response. Joe saved me from having to speak. “You’ve caused us enough trouble for now, bitch. String her up and give her a dozen lashes for her insolence. Teach her what being a slave means.”
George grabbed me in a bear hug from behind, his hands squeezing my tits painfully, while Jake knelt and undid the shackle from my ankle and then from Amy’s. He threw my clothes, or former clothes, over to the table where Joe sat. Joe picked up my underwear and sniffed it a couple of times before depositing it with the rest of the garments.
Then, Jake grabbed two pieces of rope from another table and tied my left ankle to a ring set into the floor, before yanking my legs apart and tying my right ankle to another ring. Then, he wrapped a longer rope around my wrists, got up on a chair, yanked my arms over my head and pulled the other end of the rope through an eyelet attached to the ceiling and made it fast.
I was now stretched out, helpless. Peering behind me, I could see that George had a bullwhip, just like the one he had used on our slaves on the plantation, as when he had whipped Barb and Pat after I had had Amy set them up for punishment. “Amy, go stand in front of Sarah and watch her suffer,” George ordered. “And know that if you cause any trouble, you can expect the same.”
I saw Amy come around and stand in front of me, gawking, shocked to see her former mistress stretched out, naked and about to be whipped as so many slaves had been on the plantation. A second later, I heard the whoosh of the leather flying through the air and a sound like a gun firing as it hit my back, throwing my entire body forward to the limit of the mobility allowed by the ropes that bound me.
Then, everything was obliterated by the raging fire in my back. Waves of pain and nausea coursed through me. Before I could recover, there was a second lash adding agony on top of agony. By the third, I had gulped enough air to scream my protest to the heavens. Amy covered her ears and turned away, unable to observe my torture. Jake grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look at me. “You watch your stuck-up mistress get what she deserves, bitch.”
As further lashes fell, I begged for mercy, yelled, twisted madly in my bonds. I wondered how the slaves on the plantation had stood the two, three or even four dozen that Charles or I had so casually ordered, when I was barely halfway through one and was beside myself with suffering and desperation. Pitilessly, with no concern for how I would manage, George continued until the full dozen had been given and I hung there exhausted, weeping and moaning from the agony and the knowledge that this was my future as a slave and from the deep regret over how many poor slaves had suffered like this because of my selfishness and pettiness.
Through the agony of my still burning back, I heard Joe’s gruff voice. “Alright, boys, take her down and let’s get these bitches processed.” I felt the ropes being undone from my wrists; my weight no longer supported by the ceiling, I collapsed, totally drained onto the floor. I saw George kneel to untie my ankles. He slammed his boot into my butt, not full force, but enough to hurt. “Get up, you lazy, worthless slut.”
Scared of incurring further wrath, I dragged myself to my feet, each movement sending jabs of agony through the battered flesh of my back. “Alright, both of you over the desk; it’s inspection time,” Jake ordered. I bent over the desk, dreading what I suspected was coming next. Amy positioned herself beside me.
Roughly, with no care for the distress he was causing, George inserted a finger into my anus, probing deeply as my bowels contracted around it, then removed it and inserted it into my vagina. It was the most humiliating thing I had ever experienced and I wanted desperately to stand up and protest vehemently, but I knew that would just earn me another whipping.
“Hey, Joe,” George said, “I’m feeling a bit horny. We got time for a quickie?”
“Sure, George, you worked hard showing this bitch the way things work here, so you deserve a little reward,” Joe replied. I turned my head as much as I could and saw George lowering his trousers and removing his dick, which was pointing straight up, looking very large and hard. Before I could do anything, he placed a hand on my neck to hold me down and was inside me. Glancing over to my right, I could see that Jake was having his way with Amy.
I can’t say that George’s thrusts were painful. Nor can I say they were pleasant. They just were something that I had to accept. Allowing it didn’t make me a whore, it just made me a slave trying to survive and avoid something worse that would be certain to occur if I tried to refuse.
Finally, with a deep groan, George finished inside me, and, shortly thereafter, I heard Jake come inside Amy. Joe looked up from his papers. “How was she?” he asked.”
“Great,” I heard George reply as he pulled out and slapped my ass. “I always wondered what you’d be like to fuck, Sarah, and now I know. You want a turn, Joe?”
Joe smiled. “Yeah, why the hell not?” and stood up to move behind me. It wasn’t long before he was rutting away. I only hoped he wouldn’t last too long, and he didn’t.
Their lusts satisfied, George and Jake attached iron collars around our necks and gave us our numbers, 1725 for me and 1726 for Amy. Then they shackled us together by the ankles and led us through a series of tunnels, past crews of naked women toiling away. I was too exhausted and sore to notice much, but eventually we reached a large chamber where perhaps a hundred women were lying, sleeping off the exhaustion of their work shift, hoping to have the strength to do it all again tomorrow. I suspected Barb and Pat were among them, but it was too dark to see well and I was too distraught to care.
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