twonines
LIMERICUS
Love your optimism Barb, but knowing PrPr, that may well be the high point of your sojourn in Changi and things could soon go rapidly South.
Red hot chapter as you say.
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Imprisonment and Execution in Modern Singapore Part III of Barb's Singapore Saga
- Thread starter Praefectus Praetorio
- Start date
Red hot chapter as you say.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Thank you all, my feelings exactly. In fact, writing, reading, re-writing, and posting this chapter has left me very drained. I'm struggling to find the vital energy to compose another for tomorrow. It might be short. Excuse me, I've got to go rest.
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Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
I have to concede your point there. Given Barbara's vast experience
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Lima(5) - Commandant’s Quarters, Monday, 8:30 PM
The guards released the chain from Barbara’s cuffs and the ties to her ankles. The relief for her stretched muscles and joints was tempered by pains from blood circulating again to stressed areas. The men had to hold her up at first as her legs were very wobbly from lack of motion (and, though she wouldn’t admit it even to herself, from the mind-blowing sex). Never removing the hood, they guided her out of the quarters. Soon she was walking on her own and they simply led her by the collar and leash.
Back in her cell, the soaked, slimy hood came off and Barbara gulped in the fresh air. She was learning to dread the times inside that simple but nasty thing.
The wrist cuffs were removed and Imran ordered, “Inspection position!” and Barbara assumed the degrading, vulnerable stance. Feet spread three feet (though not a bad as in the Commandant’s room - but it was painful for her sore leg muscles), arms overhead holding her shift up with them (hurting her still aching shoulders), Barb presented her body naked and exposed for their inspection and crude leers. Imran took advantage of her stance to shove several fingers up her pussy, and wiggled them around to draw little squeals. Removing his hand, he rubbed the fingers, coated with cum over Barb’s mouth and nose. With great effort, she resisted the urge to vomit.
“Our girl seems to have had a good time,” he remarked to his friend, laughing. “There is more cum here than just the Commandants. Did you have a little climax too, chicken?”
Barbara just closed her eyes and grimaced in disgust.
After a thorough probing of all her cavities, they allowed her to relax.
“You heard the Commandant give you the evening off,” said Imran. “You should be very thankful. You must have performed exceptionally to merit such indulgence. Death Row prisoners in Changi are expected to earn their keep. Tonight, we’ll just serve you dinner and then leave you alone.” They turned to leave and then Imran stopped and looked back. “You might have a visit from Client Services. They are here to help you.”
Then they departed, leaving Barb to settle into her new “home.”
Since the cell was almost bare, that process went very quickly. She tried to wash in the tiny sink to remove some of the filth of the day and scrub her face and rinse matted hair. Douching in the circumstances, though desirable, was not truly possible.
About 30 minutes later a dinner tray was delivered. When she had finished and that was removed, she sat wondering what the heck was Client Services in a hell-hole place like this? Was there a concierge also? She chuckled at her own joke. It was the closest thing to a laugh she had had in a month.
Changi Prison Infirmary, 8:30 PM
Dr. Chunhua Liú, Chief Physician of Changi Prison Complex, cleared her desk at the end of the second shift. She had only worked a half-shift today (with the special permission of the Commandant) so that she could attend Barbara Moore’s trial at the High Court.
Thinking back to the trial, Chunhua gave a sign of regret at the memory of the stunningly handsome Jeffrey Hodges having a long lingering embrace with his young blonde assistant at the end of the trial. Chunhua herself would often dress (off work) in tasteful, but very flattering outfits to show off her slim, sexy figure. But that American girl dressed like a streetwalker! For court!
It was clear to the doctor, that Jeffrey had found a new girl to bless with his incredible looks and outstanding skills in bed! His affair with Liú was over. It’s OK, she thought to herself. It was great for the three weeks it lasted; it was the best sex she’d ever known.
Fortunately, the comely doctor had two happy circumstances to provide a distraction from the loss of her lover.
Chunhua was reminded of the first as she glanced again with satisfaction at the official letter from the Home Affairs Ministry, confirming her promotion to Correction Surgeon, Level 3. It was a very special achievement for any doctor in the Correction system, let one only 30 years old. And a woman! Singapore society still had a way to go in treating women professionals equally. Chunhua thought that was changing, at least in Home Affairs, with Josephine Shanmugam as new First Minister.
The second thought that encouraged the doctor was the knowledge that Barbara Moore was back in custody in Changi, on Death Row. With the usual abuse heaped on those awaiting death and the incredible pre-execution sentence of 40 strokes, Chunhua knew the Commandant would call on his trusted chief doctor to work intimately with Barbara to patch her up and certify the innocence of any injuries from abuse. Feeling a slight dampness between her legs, the young doctor forced herself to not think any more about Moore – at least until she was home with tissues.
The guards released the chain from Barbara’s cuffs and the ties to her ankles. The relief for her stretched muscles and joints was tempered by pains from blood circulating again to stressed areas. The men had to hold her up at first as her legs were very wobbly from lack of motion (and, though she wouldn’t admit it even to herself, from the mind-blowing sex). Never removing the hood, they guided her out of the quarters. Soon she was walking on her own and they simply led her by the collar and leash.
Back in her cell, the soaked, slimy hood came off and Barbara gulped in the fresh air. She was learning to dread the times inside that simple but nasty thing.
The wrist cuffs were removed and Imran ordered, “Inspection position!” and Barbara assumed the degrading, vulnerable stance. Feet spread three feet (though not a bad as in the Commandant’s room - but it was painful for her sore leg muscles), arms overhead holding her shift up with them (hurting her still aching shoulders), Barb presented her body naked and exposed for their inspection and crude leers. Imran took advantage of her stance to shove several fingers up her pussy, and wiggled them around to draw little squeals. Removing his hand, he rubbed the fingers, coated with cum over Barb’s mouth and nose. With great effort, she resisted the urge to vomit.
“Our girl seems to have had a good time,” he remarked to his friend, laughing. “There is more cum here than just the Commandants. Did you have a little climax too, chicken?”
Barbara just closed her eyes and grimaced in disgust.
After a thorough probing of all her cavities, they allowed her to relax.
“You heard the Commandant give you the evening off,” said Imran. “You should be very thankful. You must have performed exceptionally to merit such indulgence. Death Row prisoners in Changi are expected to earn their keep. Tonight, we’ll just serve you dinner and then leave you alone.” They turned to leave and then Imran stopped and looked back. “You might have a visit from Client Services. They are here to help you.”
Then they departed, leaving Barb to settle into her new “home.”
Since the cell was almost bare, that process went very quickly. She tried to wash in the tiny sink to remove some of the filth of the day and scrub her face and rinse matted hair. Douching in the circumstances, though desirable, was not truly possible.
About 30 minutes later a dinner tray was delivered. When she had finished and that was removed, she sat wondering what the heck was Client Services in a hell-hole place like this? Was there a concierge also? She chuckled at her own joke. It was the closest thing to a laugh she had had in a month.
Changi Prison Infirmary, 8:30 PM
Dr. Chunhua Liú, Chief Physician of Changi Prison Complex, cleared her desk at the end of the second shift. She had only worked a half-shift today (with the special permission of the Commandant) so that she could attend Barbara Moore’s trial at the High Court.
Thinking back to the trial, Chunhua gave a sign of regret at the memory of the stunningly handsome Jeffrey Hodges having a long lingering embrace with his young blonde assistant at the end of the trial. Chunhua herself would often dress (off work) in tasteful, but very flattering outfits to show off her slim, sexy figure. But that American girl dressed like a streetwalker! For court!
It was clear to the doctor, that Jeffrey had found a new girl to bless with his incredible looks and outstanding skills in bed! His affair with Liú was over. It’s OK, she thought to herself. It was great for the three weeks it lasted; it was the best sex she’d ever known.
Fortunately, the comely doctor had two happy circumstances to provide a distraction from the loss of her lover.
Chunhua was reminded of the first as she glanced again with satisfaction at the official letter from the Home Affairs Ministry, confirming her promotion to Correction Surgeon, Level 3. It was a very special achievement for any doctor in the Correction system, let one only 30 years old. And a woman! Singapore society still had a way to go in treating women professionals equally. Chunhua thought that was changing, at least in Home Affairs, with Josephine Shanmugam as new First Minister.
The second thought that encouraged the doctor was the knowledge that Barbara Moore was back in custody in Changi, on Death Row. With the usual abuse heaped on those awaiting death and the incredible pre-execution sentence of 40 strokes, Chunhua knew the Commandant would call on his trusted chief doctor to work intimately with Barbara to patch her up and certify the innocence of any injuries from abuse. Feeling a slight dampness between her legs, the young doctor forced herself to not think any more about Moore – at least until she was home with tissues.
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settantuno
MUTUS PICTOR
Attachments
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
OMG! The hanging/impalement in the background is magical! Eroticism, and impending doom! I don't need to write anymore here. You've done everything I could in a whole story. This picture is truly worth 10,000 words.
I'm done!
settantuno
MUTUS PICTOR
Exaggerated!
Attachments
settantuno
MUTUS PICTOR
Attachments
twonines
LIMERICUS
This is a brilliant depiction of PrPr`s vivid description.You have managed to encapsulate everything,the terror of the hood,the straining sinews,Barb`s utter naked vulnerability,the powerful lust of the commandant and even a hint ,that despite herself,Barb might actually be enjoying her rape.
We can only hope that you will continue to provide us with such great work as Barb`s terrifying ordeal continues.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Things are looking up.
Enam(6) Cell 22, Death Row, Monday, 9:00 PM
Later that evening, Barbara was sitting on her pad, trying to come to grips with the terrible predicament she was in, when a soft knock came on her cell door. Taken aback at this strange occurrence, she took a moment to say, “Come in.”
Two small Chinese women entered. One seemed older and in charge; the other held a clipboard and pen and watched her superior closely. They both wore uniforms that were cleaned and pressed to an admirable level.
“Good evening, Miss Baba’a Moowu,’ said the elder, who had trouble with “r’s. My name is Goh Oyee Hue, I am the Client Sevices wepesentative for this wing. This is my assistant, Huat Enni Oph. We are here to give you the standard welcome to Changi Prison Complex and to attend to your needs.”
“I’ve been here for almost two weeks. How come you didn’t visit me before? Why haven’t you done your job?” It was remarkable how rapidly Barbara could revert to her whiny, complaining mood when given a chance.
“We are most sowy, Miss Moowu, but you he-a tempo-aily waiting twial. Now you official client.”
It seemed a thin point to make the distinction, but Barb allowed it. “So, what can you do for me?”
At that the younger matron spoke up with obviously better English, “As a death row inmate, you are given access to research tools to appeal your case. You will be supplied with a laptop with ultra-high-speed internet and a new cell phone, both free and with unlimited data usage. However, certain pornographic sites will be restricted. For the phone, Apple or Android? For the laptop, Mac, or Windows 10?
Even Barbara was floored by the generous offer. This was so much more than she could have dreamed of. “I use an iPhone, but Windows on my laptop.”
“Very good. They should both be here tomorrow. Is there anything else we can do to make your stay more comfortable? And please don’t ask for a bigger cell! We know this is ridiculously cramped in here, but all the larger Death Row cells are full. A much better one is scheduled to open Friday, execution day.”
Barb had difficulty taking it all in. Even a nicer cell in a few days. Then she caught the last words. Execution day! Another inmate’s would be killed to yield her a better cell! Whatever, she thought. Nothing she could do about it. Probably just another drug-dealing scum in this hell-hole country!
“Well, I could use a new blanket. That one’s awful worn,” she said gesturing to her pad and the cover, barely better than a threadbare towel. And the pad is very thin.”
“My lord, you’re right,” exclaimed the young woman, inspecting Barb’s bed. “These should have been replaced with new before you were assigned to the cell. We’ll replace the whole set with a new pad, much thicker, you’ll see, and a good blanket. Housekeeping will bring them here tonight – in about an hour. Anything else?”
“If I’m allowed to do research, is there a prison library?”
“Of course, a most extensive one with a large legal section.”
“Wonderful,” chirped Barb, her spirits rising. She thought, I can look up my case. I’ll do better than Jeffrey, despite his good looks. “And a private carrell for work and to store the books I need?”
“Naturally. I’ll arrange it and get the details to you when we bring your new electronics tomorrow.”
“We hope you shall enjoy stay with us, Miss Moowu.” said the senior and they turned to leave the cell.
“Oh! And I also have special dietary needs. Gluten-free, South-beach, etc. If I could meet with the chef, I could explain what I need for my diet and how to prepare it.”
“That can be arranged.”
“And I need two glasses of a good Riesling every evening to help my digestion.”
“Of course,” the senior said, "but not until tomorrow." Barb pouted for a moment, but got no reaction as they both left.
Now things are looking up, thought Barb to herself. One step at a time. I’ll find a way out of this hell-hole!
Enam(6) Cell 22, Death Row, Monday, 9:00 PM
Later that evening, Barbara was sitting on her pad, trying to come to grips with the terrible predicament she was in, when a soft knock came on her cell door. Taken aback at this strange occurrence, she took a moment to say, “Come in.”
Two small Chinese women entered. One seemed older and in charge; the other held a clipboard and pen and watched her superior closely. They both wore uniforms that were cleaned and pressed to an admirable level.
“Good evening, Miss Baba’a Moowu,’ said the elder, who had trouble with “r’s. My name is Goh Oyee Hue, I am the Client Sevices wepesentative for this wing. This is my assistant, Huat Enni Oph. We are here to give you the standard welcome to Changi Prison Complex and to attend to your needs.”
“I’ve been here for almost two weeks. How come you didn’t visit me before? Why haven’t you done your job?” It was remarkable how rapidly Barbara could revert to her whiny, complaining mood when given a chance.
“We are most sowy, Miss Moowu, but you he-a tempo-aily waiting twial. Now you official client.”
It seemed a thin point to make the distinction, but Barb allowed it. “So, what can you do for me?”
At that the younger matron spoke up with obviously better English, “As a death row inmate, you are given access to research tools to appeal your case. You will be supplied with a laptop with ultra-high-speed internet and a new cell phone, both free and with unlimited data usage. However, certain pornographic sites will be restricted. For the phone, Apple or Android? For the laptop, Mac, or Windows 10?
Even Barbara was floored by the generous offer. This was so much more than she could have dreamed of. “I use an iPhone, but Windows on my laptop.”
“Very good. They should both be here tomorrow. Is there anything else we can do to make your stay more comfortable? And please don’t ask for a bigger cell! We know this is ridiculously cramped in here, but all the larger Death Row cells are full. A much better one is scheduled to open Friday, execution day.”
Barb had difficulty taking it all in. Even a nicer cell in a few days. Then she caught the last words. Execution day! Another inmate’s would be killed to yield her a better cell! Whatever, she thought. Nothing she could do about it. Probably just another drug-dealing scum in this hell-hole country!
“Well, I could use a new blanket. That one’s awful worn,” she said gesturing to her pad and the cover, barely better than a threadbare towel. And the pad is very thin.”
“My lord, you’re right,” exclaimed the young woman, inspecting Barb’s bed. “These should have been replaced with new before you were assigned to the cell. We’ll replace the whole set with a new pad, much thicker, you’ll see, and a good blanket. Housekeeping will bring them here tonight – in about an hour. Anything else?”
“If I’m allowed to do research, is there a prison library?”
“Of course, a most extensive one with a large legal section.”
“Wonderful,” chirped Barb, her spirits rising. She thought, I can look up my case. I’ll do better than Jeffrey, despite his good looks. “And a private carrell for work and to store the books I need?”
“Naturally. I’ll arrange it and get the details to you when we bring your new electronics tomorrow.”
“We hope you shall enjoy stay with us, Miss Moowu.” said the senior and they turned to leave the cell.
“Oh! And I also have special dietary needs. Gluten-free, South-beach, etc. If I could meet with the chef, I could explain what I need for my diet and how to prepare it.”
“That can be arranged.”
“And I need two glasses of a good Riesling every evening to help my digestion.”
“Of course,” the senior said, "but not until tomorrow." Barb pouted for a moment, but got no reaction as they both left.
Now things are looking up, thought Barb to herself. One step at a time. I’ll find a way out of this hell-hole!
Were you expecting anything else?
I’m on to you, PrPr. Next chapter will reveal that this was all a dream, right?
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Dreams don't come in Changi. Only nightmares!
twonines
LIMERICUS
More likely the lull before the storm !
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
PrPr, this is bizarre! It serves to set us thinking WTF? Our minds are in turmoil, as is Barb's. Well thought out.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Hey, I'm still guessing too!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Ever wake up on the wrong side of the bed?
Tujah(7) Cell 22, Death Row, Tuesday, March 26th, 2019 7:10AM
Barbara woke up in a foul mood. She had waited around her cell all evening (as if she had something else she could do!) for her new bedding to be delivered by housekeeping. Nothing! At last she fell asleep in the old filthy set. Not sleeping well, she was up before dawn and by breakfast time was seething. This is unacceptable, she told herself. When I get my new laptop, I’m going to complain. Someone in housekeeping should be fired!
When guards brought her breakfast, Barb tried to find out the reason for the delay. Unfortunately, they seemed to speak only a heavy accented dialect of English (locally called Singlish), and didn’t seem to understand her questions about the bed. Barb sat and eat her bland breakfast while seething.
About an hour after breakfast, Imran and another guard entered the cell. Barb recognized the other as John Tan, the young guard who caned her when she was first committed to Changi before her trial. They ordered Barbara to inspection stance. Anxious to complain about housekeeping, but fearful of Imran’s tendency to sudden violence, she complied. After the usual humiliation, Imran said.
“As a semi-permanent resident at Changi, you must know and follow the rules. Mr. Tan, please recite the major rules to Miss Moore.”
Tan proceeded into a long monotone recitation of seemingly mind-numbing rules that he clearly had memorized with no interest in them at all. Barb stood, legs spread (still sore from the long, extreme stretch of yesterday), and arms overhead getting heavier and heavier, her usually limited patience being rapidly depleted.
At last, Tam completed his spiel and she was allowed to stand at ease. Imran asked, “Are those rules clear? Or do you need to hear them again?
“I think I’ve got them,” said Barbara with a touch of sarcasm in her voice. “May I ask something?”
“What.”
“Do you know when those fucking idiots in housekeeping will deliver my new bed?”
Imran and Tam threw back their heads and laughed uproariously.
“What the fuck are you laughing at, you hyenas?” blurted out Barb before she knew she was saying it.
The guards went deadly silent and Imran’s face froze. “Hold her,” was all he said. Tam stepped behind Barb grabbed her elbows and pulled them back while pushing her body forward. The head guard drew his long wood truncheon and slammed its blunt end into her belly. A whoosh of air rushed out of the girl’s mouth as her middle collapsed under the blow. Not giving her any time to recover, he viciously drove it in two more times.
“Release her,” he said and Barb collapsed on the floor, curled in the fetal position, holding her spasming middle. “Get the stocks and another guard and a #1. Inform the doctor, 10 AM.” Tam hurried from the cell.
As Barb was convulsed with body-racking coughs and heaves, he kneeled down, grabbed her hair and roughly pulled her face up to look into his.
“You said you understood those rules. Number four was never disrespecting a guard. You just disrespected us. We are going to have to teach you a lesson and teach you good!”
“No, please,” Barbara choked through her gasps, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hurt me!”
“Hurt you? We are going to do a whole lot more than hurt you, bitch!” Just then Tam returned with another guard. Both carrying equipment. Barbara looked at them with horror.
Tujah(7) Cell 22, Death Row, Tuesday, March 26th, 2019 7:10AM
Barbara woke up in a foul mood. She had waited around her cell all evening (as if she had something else she could do!) for her new bedding to be delivered by housekeeping. Nothing! At last she fell asleep in the old filthy set. Not sleeping well, she was up before dawn and by breakfast time was seething. This is unacceptable, she told herself. When I get my new laptop, I’m going to complain. Someone in housekeeping should be fired!
When guards brought her breakfast, Barb tried to find out the reason for the delay. Unfortunately, they seemed to speak only a heavy accented dialect of English (locally called Singlish), and didn’t seem to understand her questions about the bed. Barb sat and eat her bland breakfast while seething.
About an hour after breakfast, Imran and another guard entered the cell. Barb recognized the other as John Tan, the young guard who caned her when she was first committed to Changi before her trial. They ordered Barbara to inspection stance. Anxious to complain about housekeeping, but fearful of Imran’s tendency to sudden violence, she complied. After the usual humiliation, Imran said.
“As a semi-permanent resident at Changi, you must know and follow the rules. Mr. Tan, please recite the major rules to Miss Moore.”
Tan proceeded into a long monotone recitation of seemingly mind-numbing rules that he clearly had memorized with no interest in them at all. Barb stood, legs spread (still sore from the long, extreme stretch of yesterday), and arms overhead getting heavier and heavier, her usually limited patience being rapidly depleted.
At last, Tam completed his spiel and she was allowed to stand at ease. Imran asked, “Are those rules clear? Or do you need to hear them again?
“I think I’ve got them,” said Barbara with a touch of sarcasm in her voice. “May I ask something?”
“What.”
“Do you know when those fucking idiots in housekeeping will deliver my new bed?”
Imran and Tam threw back their heads and laughed uproariously.
“What the fuck are you laughing at, you hyenas?” blurted out Barb before she knew she was saying it.
The guards went deadly silent and Imran’s face froze. “Hold her,” was all he said. Tam stepped behind Barb grabbed her elbows and pulled them back while pushing her body forward. The head guard drew his long wood truncheon and slammed its blunt end into her belly. A whoosh of air rushed out of the girl’s mouth as her middle collapsed under the blow. Not giving her any time to recover, he viciously drove it in two more times.
“Release her,” he said and Barb collapsed on the floor, curled in the fetal position, holding her spasming middle. “Get the stocks and another guard and a #1. Inform the doctor, 10 AM.” Tam hurried from the cell.
As Barb was convulsed with body-racking coughs and heaves, he kneeled down, grabbed her hair and roughly pulled her face up to look into his.
“You said you understood those rules. Number four was never disrespecting a guard. You just disrespected us. We are going to have to teach you a lesson and teach you good!”
“No, please,” Barbara choked through her gasps, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hurt me!”
“Hurt you? We are going to do a whole lot more than hurt you, bitch!” Just then Tam returned with another guard. Both carrying equipment. Barbara looked at them with horror.
