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Working in the Mines

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Pumping Oil
There were times when she was this deep underground and the end of one of the hot dusty tunnels, the only sounds the grunts of effort from the women and the cur…clunk…whoosh sound of the pumps as the pistons rose and fell pulling the oil from the ground in to the tank, it felt like she was the last woman on earth although she knew she wasn’t alone in other tunnels not far away other women were there doing exactly what she was.
The only break came every couple of hours when she would hear the jingle of bells, the heavy breathing and footsteps echoing off the walls of the ponygirls as they pulled a truck out of the darkness towards her, then she’d see the lights as they turned the last corner and once they’ had been turned around and the two women would begin manhandling the barrels in to place to fill them and she would have someone to talk to for a little until the load was full and a whip cracked and the cart once again disappeared in to the darkness and she would be alone again with her thoughts.
She’d spend her time taking sips from the bottles of water she brought down in to the mine to clear the dust that covered her teeth and throat a never ending battle, and every so often she’d say something like “faster bitches” or bitch put your back in to it” and use the whip to encourage them to work harder, it was essential that when the women returned there was enough oil in the tank to fill the barrels, she had when she’d first started many years ago wondered how the women on the pumps just kept going all the time, but that soon passed, as part of her training as supervisor she been told not to distract them with small talk, not to even think of them as people, they were nothing more than the energy supply for the machinery to pump the oil, essential but replaceable, her only concern was making them to get the oil out of the ground by any means she saw fit and that she quickly understood meant by liberal use of the whip.
Society above ground depended on it
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Down in the mine
Try and imagine it as an ant farm but instead of a Perspex front, that it is just more rock and the women all convicts are crawling again down a pitch black fissure in the rock to reach the underground excavation site, where their shift is working in the pure darkness chipping away at the rock and filling buckets by hand of the chips and rubble they have created.
When the bucket is full they have to start making their way back to the surface, but women who have previously emptied their buckets are crawling back down, the only place the can pass is in the special holes dug down in to the rock, they can see nothing only hear, clearing for the bottle necks by crawling backwards and forwards to go up or down to the surface or back to the rock face and time is always against them with a minimum requirement of 50 buckets a day; failure adds a day for each bucket short to their sentence
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if you like my stuff why not support me on www.patreon.com/Puppyowner for naked females fighting new every day + links to the images I can't show there
or my new site www.subscribestar.com/puppyowner for more exotic images every day and the female fighting

Times were tough, everyone was dying, there were no real jobs and even if you had one there was no food to buy, no one wanted to be stripped and bridled and no one wanted to spend their day pulling the dead, but the monks were the only ones with food grown in their own gardens and willing to pay, so when needs must a woman as she always does, does what she has to do to survive
 

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Here is some more mine work.....

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Convict Labour

if you like my stuff why not support me on patreon/Puppyowner for naked females fighting new every day + links to the images I can't show there
or my new site subscribestar/puppyowner for more exotic images every day and the female fighting
the story is on my sites
 

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Slaves who will never leave the mine, who will never get to wear clothes again, whose short future will consist of nothing but unceasing toil to avoid beatings or starvation.
 

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