meanwhile...
"thirsty" (further adventures of convict 748)
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Convict 748 is not permitted to speak unless spoken to. When she is in need of water during her 10-hour shift, sweating and caked with dust, she knows from experience what she is required to do. She kneels in the dirt, one knee on either side of the heavy stone block she is shackled to. She then folds her arms behind her back, as best she can, since the hoe remains chained to her right wrist. She opens her mouth, and sticks out her pierced and ringed tongue; this tells the overseer that she is thirsty. Failure to perform any one of these signals will result in her not only being denied a drink of water, but also being punished for taking an unauthorized rest.
Resentfully, the overseer gets to his feet, and brings a water bottle to the kneeling woman.
"Thirsty already?" he growls, hooking a finger into her nose ring and pulling upwards, tipping her head back. He uncaps the plastic bottle and holds it to her lips. She drinks deeply, gratefully, gazing up into his eyes. It is still morning, and the water is relatively cool. What's more, it still tastes fresh; as the day wears on, the overseer usually begins to top up her half-empty water bottles with his own urine. By the mid-afternoon, as far as 748 can tell, there is nothing in the bottles but piss, which is disgusting and humiliating, but she is forced to drink it or suffer dehydration, which she knows from experience is even worse.
He pats the top of her head as she glugs down the water, refreshing her parched throat. She doesn't flinch from his touch - she knows he is not in a mood to punish her - not just yet. He withdraws the half-empty bottle from her lips and replaces the cap. The next time she drinks, she knows, the water will be tainted. One of these days, she thinks, he's just going to take out his cock and piss straight down my throat...
"There, 748, that should keep you going. Now get back to work, you lazy bitch, or you'll feel the end of my whip! Come on, you worthless piece of shit, get to your feet - I want to see some hard labour, and hear those bells ringing!"
Wearily the convict heaves herself up and takes up her hoe again. She swings it at the ground, her nipple bells and chains jingling. The hoe digs in, and she works the long handle like a lever until it loosens its clod of earth. She swings again, breaking up the clod into dusty lumps. The overseer watches for a moment, before returning to his seat in the shade. He throws the prisoner's half-empty bottle on the ground near his chair, and takes a chilled beer from the insulated box, packed with ice-blocks, which keeps his own drinks cool. Ah, he thinks, taking a swig; that's refreshing.
Out in the blinding sunlight, the chained, branded and naked convict hacks away at the dry soil, blinking the stinging sweat away from her eyes. The rings set into her septum and clitoris shake and wiggle with every movement, as do the infernal bells hanging from her pierced nipples, tickling her relentlessly, but she does not dare to stop working. Already she feels her thirst beginning to return, but she must be careful. If she asks for more too soon, she will merely earn herself a whipping instead of water...
(worth at least five ordinary slavegirls!)
