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1834
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
xso
Tribune
Well, an example has to be made! They have to get up from the positions show
An example has to be made! They must get up from their positions shown in the previous pic, it looks almost like the girls are on holiday!
Suitable corrective action is the night shift in the mines (according to the pic, I think our girls get to much food, their insect rations must be decreased drastically!) + the bullwhip + an extra session pleasing our hard working guards, etc!
The CEO, Prison Production Company (PPC)
An example has to be made! They must get up from their positions shown in the previous pic, it looks almost like the girls are on holiday!
Suitable corrective action is the night shift in the mines (according to the pic, I think our girls get to much food, their insect rations must be decreased drastically!) + the bullwhip + an extra session pleasing our hard working guards, etc!
The CEO, Prison Production Company (PPC)
xso
Tribune
"Workin' in a coal mine
Goin' down down down
Workin' in a coal mine
Whop! about to slip down
Workin' in a coal mine
Goin' down down down
Workin' in a coal mine
Whop! about to slip down"
Sixties song?
The whip and hard work will make you shut up and stop singing stupid cheerful songs! For once, concentrate on production prisoner, stop babbling! 20 lashes for Barb, 2 for Siss + double production quota for Barb!
The CEO, PPC
thought you more braveYIKES....OK, OK, OK
LittleSiss
Sorceress
1834 episode 4 "Initiation"
We put our backs into it as the guards circle the prisoners straining to move the long wooden spokes, brandishing their whips and shouting obscenities. As Siss and I push we feel the spoke shudder in our hands and then with a loud creak and groan the whole contraption begins to move and revolve and the great milling stones below begin to rumble and roar.
It is hard work at first, but as it gets going the strain is less. Still, we are working hard, and I can feel it in my cramping legs and back. The guards are ever watchful for slackers, and every now and then I hear the crack of a whip and a grunt or cry from somewhere in the room. “Geeze, do they ever let up?” grumbles Siss.
The iron stoves in the corners of the room are belching heat. Our naked bodies are covered with sweat and coated with white dust from the grain being ground between the stone wheels below us. The air is dry, and my throat is terribly parched. The clouds of dust also cause us to cough and choke.
We keep going round and round, pushing on our spoke, for what seems like forever. But the pace begins to slacken; everyone is fatigued and thirsty. I look over at Siss. Her mouth is open, her wet hair plastered all over her sweaty dust-covered face and shoulders.
“God what I wouldn’t give for a drink of anything”, I shout at her over the rumble of the milling stones. She looks at me blankly in return. “Don’t expect to find a pub around the bend,” she mutters finally.
Suddenly the clang of the overseer’s bell fills the room. A halt is called. The guards make the rounds with a bucket and a ladle, offering each prisoner a taste of thirst quenching water.
Siss and I wait our turn, still gripping the spoke. Our hands seem to be locked in a grip around it. We are panting; our bodies trembling. My legs feel weak.
At last the guards with the water bucket come around to us. I recognize them immediately. My spirits sag. They are the same two that stripped us earlier.
“Ah, if it ain’t our li’l lovelies again”, chortles the first guard, who with a leering grin pokes playfully at my breasts with his ladle. “Li’l thirsty are we?” he asks, as he dips the ladle in his bucket and slowly holds it out just in front of my face.
I want to drink, and I lean forward greedily, but as I do he moves the ladle farther away. I lean forward a little more, and he pulls it away again. This continues until I am bent way over the wooden spoke, my feet barely touching the floorboards as I stretch to reach the water. I reach the tipping point, lose my balance and fall forward over the spoke.
The guard steps back and makes a show of emptying the ladle on the floor. He puts his hands on his hips as I hang helplessly over the spoke, my bare bum in the air, and shouts indignantly to the man with the ledger, “this one spilled ‘er water – careless, stupid bitch – give ‘er five demerits!”
Then he grabs me by the hair, shoves me back over the spoke, and turns to Siss who is staring at him in wide-eyed disbelief. “Come on sweetie,” he says, “let’s see if ye can do a li’l better? Or maybe, ye’d like to wiggle your ass and tits for us? Give ole Bull and Gunner here, and everyone else a li’l show. Can ye sing and dance for your water?”
“I wouldn’t stoop to dance for the pitiful wee little likes of ye, she hisses at him, with a disdainful look at his manhood.
His face goes red. He throws Siss’ ladle full of water in her face. “Bad attitude here”, he thunders. “Five demerits for this un too! These two are trouble; we are goin’ to have to watch ‘um!”
I want to cry, but there isn’t time. The bell clangs and we are back at it, our backs and legs straining to move the piston and keep the wheels below us grinding. A minute later, as we trudge by our two tormenters, we both feel the cruel sting of the lash across our bare backs. Looking over my shoulder, I see him winking fiendishly at me.
As the day wears on, we grow weaker and weaker. Unlike the others Siss and I are not conditioned to the hard labor and the lashes that spur us on. We begin to weave and wobble as we push on, our breathing becomes more ragged, and the awful dryness in our mouths and throats becomes almost unbearable.
I look over at Siss with concern; she seems close to fainting. Suddenly her eyes flutter and close, and she falls to her knees, her arms stretch out and her legs scrabble for footing. A moment later her body flips over; I watch in horror as she dragged by her manacled wrists, her butt and outstretched legs trailing on the floor, her head hanging back and her mouth wide open.
The bell clangs and the movement of the spokes and piston slows and then stops. Guards come running and shouting, led by Bull and Gunner. Bull gets there first and begins to whip Siss, the first lash landing with a smack across her wobbling breasts, the second cutting across her taught tummy and the third across her hips.
I twist around and kick at Bull, shouting, “Stop, stop, can’t ye see she has done fainted!” He looks up at me, startled; and just then I feel the iron grip of Gunner’s hand clamp down on my throat. With his other hand he grabs me by the nipple and twisting cruelly, spins me around to face him. With deep malice in his eyes he presses down on my throat, and the room begins to spin crazily as he squeezes hard. I gasp and choke, and struggle feebly in his grip.
Just then the overseer arrives. Taking charge, he yells at Gunner, “You! Let go of her throat; dead prisoners do no work! These two are of no use right now, get them unshackled and bring up two prisoners from below to take their place. Step lively now lads, time is money!”
Then almost as an afterthought, he shouts over to the scribe behind the desk, “20 demerits for each of these bitches; they will pay dearly for this tonight!”
The shackles holding my wrists to the spoke are released, and I am propelled away from my work station, past two unhappy looking girls who are being herded toward our spoke, stripping off their shifts as they run. Taken over to a short stout posts with a couple of chains hanging from it, I am forced down to a sitting position against the post and one of the chains is fastened to my neck collar.
A few seconds later Siss’ limp body is dragged over and dumped on the floor facing up, her head coming to rest on my thighs. A second chain is fastened to her collar. I look down at the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathes shallowly, at the angry red marks that Bull’s whip has left on her breasts, tummy and hips, and at her spread legs, which seem to be moving fitfully.
The bell clangs, the grinding of grain begins again. The spokes and the teams of prisoners straining to push each spoke pass endlessly past me. I watch as the guards, shouting for greater effort, send lashes flitting across bare backs and I hear the yelps and cries of the prisoners. Hateful, resentful looks are sent our way. They think they are being driven harder because of the two of us.
Looking down at Siss again, I cradle her head in my arms; and after a little, I gently hold it tight to my breast. Leaning over I kiss her lightly on the forehead, and then on the nose, my tears falling from my cheeks and leaving little wet streaks on her dust-covered face. Lovingly I brush the loose strands of her fair hair aside. Her eyes flicker and open, and focus on mine. A faint smile appears. She opens her mouth in the round shape of a kiss, closes her eyes and snuggles her head in closer to my breast.
Several hours later, the final bell rings out and the day’s work comes to a halt. The prisoners are unshackled and led outside. Siss and I are too weak to walk. The guards free us from the post to which we have been chained, and carry us out in the open, where we are tossed on to the back of a cart, and made to sit up looking out the back, our feet dangling over the side.
The cart sets off with a jerk, and the rest of the prisoners fall into a column behind us. As the cart bounces along down the hill toward the compound below, we are very much aware of the disgust and hate in the eyes of the others trudging along behind. I turn to Siss and whisper, “We gotta get out of this place!”
The cart pulls into the compound but instead of pulling us out, they throw another girl in with us. She has obviously been working the Quarry … her body is covered in dust with many small cuts and bruises on her hands and feet, and her bare back is crisscrossed with the marks of a recent whipping. She is a stunning girl with long brown hair with an unusual reddish tinge. The guards hand the driver a piece of paper and immediately we are off again.
We are taken north for about a quarter mile to a clearing in the forest and as we stop it is clear that we won’t be returning to camp this night. Before us are at least six or seven others, all staked out, on their backs, spread-eagled with their wrists and ankles pulled tightly and secured to thick high stakes in such a way as to raise their arms and legs slightly off the ground.
The detail that has been obviously waiting for our arrival approaches quickly. All of them muttering something about returning to camp before the dinner bell sounds. There are eight of them and they waste no time grabbing each of us under the arms and dragging us into the field.
We are each thrown down in in the open space between four large and stout stakes. They work quickly, wrapping our wrists and ankles with wet leather straps and pulling and tying them off as taut as possible, just like the six or seven others. It is still quite warm and it is hours yet before sunset.
One of them stops and eyes my open sex with that evil look in his eye, and my body stiffens as I think he is going to take me. His boot comes toward me as if to probe, and I stiffen as the toe traces my inner thighs, but the others call him. They are leaving. I gasp with relief.
“Sleep tight, Ladies! Don’t let the bed bugs bite, aye!” They say laughing as they board the cart and ride away.
We are left there laying in the sand, gravel and grass, sweating and naked. We suffer for a few minutes in silence, just trying to get comfortable as the leather straps slowly dry and tighten. We grimace, and moan, constantly adjusting and balancing the tension on our limbs.
The girl from the Quarry is tethered between Siss and me; I am to her right, and Siss to her left. As if this was an everyday occurrence, she speaks right up and introduces herself. “So! I’m Emma … You ladies new here or somethin’?”
Clearly she has been around. Her body is tanned and well-toned from hard forced labor.
“Why are ye here with us?” I stammer.
“I was workin’ the quarry today when one of ‘um goons ordered me to suck his li’ll pecker while he ate his lunch, so I done bit him!”, She replies as if it were a matter of fact. “They tied me between two posts and forced two of the other prisoners to flog me while they finished eating. I got 25 lashes, and 25 demerits, and was left hanging there all day”.
“Blimey!!! Emma, this is Siss and I am Barb,” I say, adding, “We hope ye at least gored the bastard.”
We both begin to tell her our stories when she stops us and says, “Alright that’s good enough … heard it all before.” Emma has the look of an aristocrat, but the cockiness of a carnie.
“So ye two will be workin’ the quarry tomorrow. They like to punish you by weakening you as much as they can and then place you in dangerous tasks. You see, they don’t care if we live or die. There is always more where we came from.” She explains with an almost unconcerned lilt in her voice.
As the daylight dwindles, the heat of the day is taken by the evening breezes and the sounds of scurrying wildlife can be heard in the grass and sand around us. A shifting leaf or a twig can be seen from the corners of ours eyes. Emma seems unconcerned by all this. Siss is twisting her head around in an effort to see what it may be.
Within minutes it is all too clear what the noises are … large beetles and other oversize and grotesque insects are suddenly everywhere crawling along side of us. We can feel them as they come up on to our bodies, swarming over our bellies and along our raised legs and arms.
Then the rodents, attracted by the insects, begin darting and hopping around us. We have been left out as bait for the creatures of the night!
Emma lays there as if there is absolutely nothing going on. Siss is giggling and twitching and saying something about how much they tickle. They both are ignoring me. I am screaming and thrashing about in hysterical panic.
I can feel the furry little creatures snuggling up close to my sides in an effort to steal a little warmth from my body. Something a bit larger is sniffing around between my thighs and I can feel its whiskers and wet little nose brush along my loins. “Ewwwwwwwwwwww! No!!!” I scream twisting and bucking frantically.
Suddenly I feel a small hand touch my upper arm and a man’s voice tells me to calm down or I will make myself sick. He pours a few drops of water into my mouth and says, “You girls really don’t look like you belong in this place. Well! Emma here, does, but not you two.”
He then begins to explain that if we trust him and do exactly what he tells us to do the following day that we will be free before sundown. It is then that I realize that it is the little man with the rodent like face whom we spoke with the night before, and that he is offering us a chance to escape.
“Be ready to run at noon, when I make a little distraction for the guards,” he whispers conspiratorially.
Emma raises here head and speaks out, saying she will join us; that she knows the quarry and the surrounding area and will help us find our way; and that the little man can be trusted.
I turn to ask him if we will be safe, but he is gone.
TO BE CONTINUED
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Nice segment ladies, although I am astonished Bull and Gunner did not have their way with you...
T
...you wouldn't have to be grinding grains if you would stop burning distilleries!!!
T
...you wouldn't have to be grinding grains if you would stop burning distilleries!!!
We are sure that Bull and Gunner have not forgotten us. We are hardly out of the woods yet!
RacingRodent
Consul
Its called bush down under (okay I walked into that double entendre) and likely is exactly where you want to head to get out of that dump...
That RR is a great double entendre, and what is coming in the next episode is the wildest, most harrowing chase scene ever....Siss and I are negotiating for movie rights....Will there be a hound pack snapping and snarling at the girls heels...can Bull and Gunner chase down three naked girls in the bush....or will they be outsmarted at every turn...how will it all end? Stay tuned for the next epi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tree would send them telegram but it isn't really invented yet. Barbaria do watch out for the fox hunt...
tree
tree
YIKES!
yep old chap you promissed me a new hunt
Me and my dogs like to hunt on that bitchie
LittleSiss
Sorceress
Wally says,
What's a Fox?
y're lucky wally
RacingRodent
Consul
Coming 1860ish