30.
Zilawe Penal System Rehabilitation and Re-education Camp #4. December 25-26, 2017
Well good things happen. Following my inauspicious debut as a stripper performing solo for the annual Camp Christmas Eve party ... my decision to acquiesce to Parambe's request that I perform a piece of journalistic magic and white-wash his record as Zilawe's president ... my succumbing, without protest mind you, to his demand that I let the old man screw me ... and my witnessing of Meghan's astonishing apology and willingness, after all that she had suffered, to forgive Parambe for what had happened to her ... I thought that perhaps I had seen it all.
But then I heard him say as Meghan and I lay naked on either side of him on that little iron frame bed in that back office of the Guards' barrack: “You are both good women. You have been punished severely for what you did and now you have both done your best to help my reputation. I am hereby pardoning both of you. You will accompany me back to Molabayo in the morning where I will sign the paperwork for your release. Merry Christmas!”
Meghan squealed with delight and planted a big kiss on his cheek. I was less enthusiastic. I was in fact a little dubious, but gave him a peck on the cheek as well.
Impulsively ... I can't think of any other reason why ... she offered to let him fuck her. Oh shit, I thought, not again! ... but luckily he graciously refused, citing age and having gotten his fill already at my expense. That he most certainly did!
So we all relaxed. Perhaps things were turning out alright after all, and without Jerry's help even!
But then there was knock at the door.
"Enter," said Parambe in his most deeply authoritative presidential voice.
The door swung open and in swept Tuma, with Mama Juba in tow.
"Excuse the interruption, your Excellency," oozed Tuma, adding a polite bow for good measure. "But I need to inform you of recent developments reported to me by our security forces. It seems that rebel activity around this camp and along the route back to the capital has increased sharply. Any plans to transport you and the other government officials, including myself, back to Molabayo will have to be delayed."
"For how long?" asked Parambe, rising from the bed and reaching for his trousers.
Meghan and I backed out of his way to give him space to dress.
"Difficult to say, your Excellency. A relief column has just left the capital to clear a safe transport corridor, but it could be days before everything is secure."
"What about a helicopter?"
"Too risky. The rebels have recently shown themselves adept at bringing our copters down."
"I see," he sighed, rising to his full height and hitching up his trousers.
With alarm, I saw Tuma glance at the computer screen on which Meghan had recently typed her message absolving Parambe on her twitter account. The word processing file was still on the screen, glowing brightly.
Parambe must have noticed too, for he moved quickly to block Tuma's view of the screen with his body, while deftly reaching behind his back to turn the computer off.
At that point, Mama Juba, who had been hanging back, cleared her throat.
"Excuse me, but I've come for my girls," she said, beckoning to Meghan and me. They're both needed back at the women's barrack."
"Yes, of course," replied Parambe, as he buttoned the front of his bemedaled uniform tunic. "But first I want to say that I have made an important decision regarding these two young women. I believe them both to be innocent of the crimes for which they were convicted and sent here. As soon as I get back to the capital I intend to pardon them both. You'll see to that immediately won't you, Tuma?"
"Well, I ... " began Tuma, and then apparently thought better of it and just murmured "Yessir."
Meghan and I hopped off the bed. I shot Tuma a victorious grin, scooped up the bra and kinis, stocking and shoes I had worn into the room the night before and trooped after Meghan and Mama. Tuma and the President followed close behind, but went off to the nearby admin building. We set off for the women's barrack.
"Just a couple more days of this hell and we'll be free," Meghan whispered to me, her eyes gleaming brightly, reaching for my hand as we crossed the empty parade ground. "I can hardly believe it!"
"Me either," I said slowly. This still seemed to good to be true. And I wondered what Tuma saw on that screen and whether what he saw mattered at all. I also wondered what it was that I saw the day before glinting in the hills outside the camp. Was it the rebels? And where was Jerry? I wished I could somehow let him know that Parambe had decided to pardon Meghan and me. A rescue attempt now would not be useful.
On reaching the women's barrack, we followed Mama inside. The place was silent. There was no work that day, and everyone was sleeping off the previous night's partying at the guards' barrack. Meghan crawled into our bunk. I was about to follow, but Mama dragged me over to her bunk. I knew what she wanted and buried my head between her thighs. She pulled my face in with a firm hand on the back of my head and I did my duty, thankful that with a pardon just a few days away, I would no longer have to degrade myself servicing her in that way.
Then I joined Meghan and slept like the dead.
The next morning, we were roused early as usual ... another day at hard labor awaited us. We grabbed the usual meager breakfast and rushed out to line up on the parade ground for roll call. Since there was no labor the previous day, there were no corrections to be issued. The whipping posts and hotboxes would be vacant for once.
Meghan and I were both assigned to the same detail. We were collared and coffled for the march to the work site, and soon set off through the camp gate and down the road. The day was already shaping up to be a scorcher. The sun beat down mercilessly on us as we trudged along. Any local inhabitants we encountered on the road were so accustomed to seeing labor details on the road that they scarcely took notice of us.
Meghan was positioned just ahead of me in the coffle. For a time I amused myself by watching her hips and the undulating movement of her well-rounded ass cheeks. Something about their swaying and rippling motion fascinated me, or was it just the heat and exhaustion? Might have been the latter, for I was startled to receive a smack from a leather strap laid across my own behind by one of the guards.
"What's the matter with yuh? Keep moving!" he snarled.
I scuttled forward to recover my place in the coffle line before he could smack me again.
A little later we reached the place where we would slave and sweat for the rest of the day. It was a road-building site. We were tasked with moving and raking gravel along the side of the road ...
and with collecting and carrying stones to form a roadside shoulder ... all of it was grueling, back-breaking labor in the mounting heat of the day.
And maybe it was because yesterday had been a holiday for everyone ... the guards overseeing our work were particularly vigilant and quick with the lash. Everyone suffered from their ill temper that morning.
So, I was startled to see Meghan suddenly straighten up, drop her rake, and stare off at the wooded hills across a field that bordered the road. She seemed oblivious to the fact that the guards were watching. And, indeed, three of them were hurrying in her direction, brandishing their whips and batons.
"Meghan!" I shouted, but she seemed to scarcely notice. They quickly fell upon her, knocking her to the ground, and administering half a dozen lashes to her backside while they held her down. I overhead one of them informing her that she was putting Meghan on report and that she would surely get the hotbox after roll call the next day.
When it was over, and she limped back to her place again at me side, I whispered, "What on earth possessed you? What was it you saw that was so interesting?"
"Over there at the tree line ... in the distance ..." she sniffed, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I saw a group of men moving along ... they were armed, so they must have been rebels ... and there was a white man among them. I only saw them for a second, Barb, 'cause they slipped back into the trees, but I could have sworn the white man stopped and stared at us. You don't think he could have been Jerry, do you? I think it was Jerry! I think I recognized him, even at this distance."
Wary of the guards, I stole a quick glance in the direction of the tree line, but saw nothing. I wondered if it was the heat, or Meghan's imagination, or if Jerry really was out there somewhere?
We toiled on and on in the blazing heat.. I was hot and miserable, and incredibly thirsty. I had three lash marks on my back and butt that stung as I sweated. My hands were raw from handling the rough stones. I thought that day would never end.
But mercifully the sun eventually began to head down over the hills and we were coffled up for the long march back to camp. Again, we passed many of the locals along the way ... going about their end of the day routine, probably on their way home, largely ignoring the line of naked women headed in the opposite direction.
I kept myself on the lookout for rebels, thinking maybe Meghan's sighting could be confirmed. And, sure enough, before long we passed a small group of men who looked slightly out of the ordinary. They seemed nervous, for one thing, and for another I could have sworn I saw a gun hidden under the jacket of one of them.
And then there was also something peculiar about the way one of them shielded his face under an oversized hoodie ....
Zilawe Penal System Rehabilitation and Re-education Camp #4. December 25-26, 2017
Well good things happen. Following my inauspicious debut as a stripper performing solo for the annual Camp Christmas Eve party ... my decision to acquiesce to Parambe's request that I perform a piece of journalistic magic and white-wash his record as Zilawe's president ... my succumbing, without protest mind you, to his demand that I let the old man screw me ... and my witnessing of Meghan's astonishing apology and willingness, after all that she had suffered, to forgive Parambe for what had happened to her ... I thought that perhaps I had seen it all.
But then I heard him say as Meghan and I lay naked on either side of him on that little iron frame bed in that back office of the Guards' barrack: “You are both good women. You have been punished severely for what you did and now you have both done your best to help my reputation. I am hereby pardoning both of you. You will accompany me back to Molabayo in the morning where I will sign the paperwork for your release. Merry Christmas!”
Meghan squealed with delight and planted a big kiss on his cheek. I was less enthusiastic. I was in fact a little dubious, but gave him a peck on the cheek as well.
Impulsively ... I can't think of any other reason why ... she offered to let him fuck her. Oh shit, I thought, not again! ... but luckily he graciously refused, citing age and having gotten his fill already at my expense. That he most certainly did!
So we all relaxed. Perhaps things were turning out alright after all, and without Jerry's help even!
But then there was knock at the door.
"Enter," said Parambe in his most deeply authoritative presidential voice.
The door swung open and in swept Tuma, with Mama Juba in tow.
"Excuse the interruption, your Excellency," oozed Tuma, adding a polite bow for good measure. "But I need to inform you of recent developments reported to me by our security forces. It seems that rebel activity around this camp and along the route back to the capital has increased sharply. Any plans to transport you and the other government officials, including myself, back to Molabayo will have to be delayed."
"For how long?" asked Parambe, rising from the bed and reaching for his trousers.
Meghan and I backed out of his way to give him space to dress.
"Difficult to say, your Excellency. A relief column has just left the capital to clear a safe transport corridor, but it could be days before everything is secure."
"What about a helicopter?"
"Too risky. The rebels have recently shown themselves adept at bringing our copters down."
"I see," he sighed, rising to his full height and hitching up his trousers.
With alarm, I saw Tuma glance at the computer screen on which Meghan had recently typed her message absolving Parambe on her twitter account. The word processing file was still on the screen, glowing brightly.
Parambe must have noticed too, for he moved quickly to block Tuma's view of the screen with his body, while deftly reaching behind his back to turn the computer off.
At that point, Mama Juba, who had been hanging back, cleared her throat.
"Excuse me, but I've come for my girls," she said, beckoning to Meghan and me. They're both needed back at the women's barrack."
"Yes, of course," replied Parambe, as he buttoned the front of his bemedaled uniform tunic. "But first I want to say that I have made an important decision regarding these two young women. I believe them both to be innocent of the crimes for which they were convicted and sent here. As soon as I get back to the capital I intend to pardon them both. You'll see to that immediately won't you, Tuma?"
"Well, I ... " began Tuma, and then apparently thought better of it and just murmured "Yessir."
Meghan and I hopped off the bed. I shot Tuma a victorious grin, scooped up the bra and kinis, stocking and shoes I had worn into the room the night before and trooped after Meghan and Mama. Tuma and the President followed close behind, but went off to the nearby admin building. We set off for the women's barrack.
"Just a couple more days of this hell and we'll be free," Meghan whispered to me, her eyes gleaming brightly, reaching for my hand as we crossed the empty parade ground. "I can hardly believe it!"
"Me either," I said slowly. This still seemed to good to be true. And I wondered what Tuma saw on that screen and whether what he saw mattered at all. I also wondered what it was that I saw the day before glinting in the hills outside the camp. Was it the rebels? And where was Jerry? I wished I could somehow let him know that Parambe had decided to pardon Meghan and me. A rescue attempt now would not be useful.
On reaching the women's barrack, we followed Mama inside. The place was silent. There was no work that day, and everyone was sleeping off the previous night's partying at the guards' barrack. Meghan crawled into our bunk. I was about to follow, but Mama dragged me over to her bunk. I knew what she wanted and buried my head between her thighs. She pulled my face in with a firm hand on the back of my head and I did my duty, thankful that with a pardon just a few days away, I would no longer have to degrade myself servicing her in that way.
Then I joined Meghan and slept like the dead.
The next morning, we were roused early as usual ... another day at hard labor awaited us. We grabbed the usual meager breakfast and rushed out to line up on the parade ground for roll call. Since there was no labor the previous day, there were no corrections to be issued. The whipping posts and hotboxes would be vacant for once.
Meghan and I were both assigned to the same detail. We were collared and coffled for the march to the work site, and soon set off through the camp gate and down the road. The day was already shaping up to be a scorcher. The sun beat down mercilessly on us as we trudged along. Any local inhabitants we encountered on the road were so accustomed to seeing labor details on the road that they scarcely took notice of us.
Meghan was positioned just ahead of me in the coffle. For a time I amused myself by watching her hips and the undulating movement of her well-rounded ass cheeks. Something about their swaying and rippling motion fascinated me, or was it just the heat and exhaustion? Might have been the latter, for I was startled to receive a smack from a leather strap laid across my own behind by one of the guards.
"What's the matter with yuh? Keep moving!" he snarled.
I scuttled forward to recover my place in the coffle line before he could smack me again.
A little later we reached the place where we would slave and sweat for the rest of the day. It was a road-building site. We were tasked with moving and raking gravel along the side of the road ...
and with collecting and carrying stones to form a roadside shoulder ... all of it was grueling, back-breaking labor in the mounting heat of the day.
And maybe it was because yesterday had been a holiday for everyone ... the guards overseeing our work were particularly vigilant and quick with the lash. Everyone suffered from their ill temper that morning.
So, I was startled to see Meghan suddenly straighten up, drop her rake, and stare off at the wooded hills across a field that bordered the road. She seemed oblivious to the fact that the guards were watching. And, indeed, three of them were hurrying in her direction, brandishing their whips and batons.
"Meghan!" I shouted, but she seemed to scarcely notice. They quickly fell upon her, knocking her to the ground, and administering half a dozen lashes to her backside while they held her down. I overhead one of them informing her that she was putting Meghan on report and that she would surely get the hotbox after roll call the next day.
When it was over, and she limped back to her place again at me side, I whispered, "What on earth possessed you? What was it you saw that was so interesting?"
"Over there at the tree line ... in the distance ..." she sniffed, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I saw a group of men moving along ... they were armed, so they must have been rebels ... and there was a white man among them. I only saw them for a second, Barb, 'cause they slipped back into the trees, but I could have sworn the white man stopped and stared at us. You don't think he could have been Jerry, do you? I think it was Jerry! I think I recognized him, even at this distance."
Wary of the guards, I stole a quick glance in the direction of the tree line, but saw nothing. I wondered if it was the heat, or Meghan's imagination, or if Jerry really was out there somewhere?
We toiled on and on in the blazing heat.. I was hot and miserable, and incredibly thirsty. I had three lash marks on my back and butt that stung as I sweated. My hands were raw from handling the rough stones. I thought that day would never end.
But mercifully the sun eventually began to head down over the hills and we were coffled up for the long march back to camp. Again, we passed many of the locals along the way ... going about their end of the day routine, probably on their way home, largely ignoring the line of naked women headed in the opposite direction.
I kept myself on the lookout for rebels, thinking maybe Meghan's sighting could be confirmed. And, sure enough, before long we passed a small group of men who looked slightly out of the ordinary. They seemed nervous, for one thing, and for another I could have sworn I saw a gun hidden under the jacket of one of them.
And then there was also something peculiar about the way one of them shielded his face under an oversized hoodie ....
swaying
