Despite her beliefs, Debbie
Kendall silently cussed to herself as she saw
the roadblock. There were about 6 soldiers in dark green uniforms at the
checkpoint, inspecting everyone’s documents. Anyone suspected of bringing an
adolescent of any age to the border for the purpose of smuggling them into
new penal code.
This legislation strictly forbade any teenager of either sex to leave the
states that the Front controlled, with a maximum penalty of death by firing
squad for the smuggling party (and the teen, if at least 17 years old). The
minimum sentence was internal exile under house arrest for 15 years to life.
This law, while a slight exception to the mostly soft brand of
authoritarianism exercised by Col. Simon Lomax of the ruling Republican
Front, was undertaken for Social Darwinist reasons. Teenagers were excellent
immediate prospects for good breeding of future soldiers and taxpayers,
hence they were valuable citizens of the “new American Union”, which would
need considerable manpower for its Swiss-style national militia.
None of this really mattered to Mrs. Kendall, except that it interfered with
her intention to “save” her daughter Shannon from the deliberately
encouraged promiscuity of the “godless new regime” ruling from
She was a “Bible-believing”, “god-fearing”, “born-again” Baptist, who would
have been fine with the government if it didn’t promote sexual freedom,
evolution, and the Deistic ideals of the Enlightenment.
It was bad enough that her son, Matt, had joined the Militia and been
promoted to a corporal under the humanistic warlord. If he chose to serve
this “Satanic” regime, which was only slightly less “wicked” than the
Communists who killed her husband in the immediate chaos of the Great Pulse,
that was unfortunate for him. He was caught up in avenging his late father:
a sinful, if understandable motive from her Christian viewpoint.
Her daughter, however, would not be “indoctrinated” with the “libertinism”
of the RF. SHE would be taken to the pure, holy, theocratic Evangelical
Commonwealth that was fighting for its survival in Cincinnati against the
“unholy, secular” State Provisional Government headed by Governor Daryl
Banes.
There, she would go to public schools where teachers led prayer, taught the
Bible, and condemned the theory of evolution for its “flaws”. She would not
be allowed to date after curfew or without chaperones. “Demonic” influences
like Ouija boards, tarot cards, and pornography were illegal, as was sodomy
of any kind. She would eventually marry a “decent”, Christian “gentleman”,
after a long formal courtship that involved abstinence from any physical
contact. When she did, only the missionary position would be allowed, with
no contraceptives, sex toys, or lubricants available.
Naturally, this was the sort of rubbish that the Republican Front sought to
prevent. Disagreement with Col. Lomax’s public policies was allowed to an
extent, but it was no excuse for violating Article 9 of the Emergency
Criminal Code. They were charged with enforcing border controls and, damnit,
they would! The national defense and security of the Republic depended upon
their strict observance of regulations and legislation designed to protect
the Revolution. Only when the danger to the national sovereignty and
independence was removed could political freedom be restored as the
Commandant always intended.
Whatever their reasons, the guards would inspect everyone’s papers
thoroughly. Debbie just hoped that the fake identification she had bought
would work. Somehow, she had to pass her 16 year old daughter off as 20. She
just hoped that the soldiers wouldn’t examine things too closely or compare
her daughter’s supposed age to her appearance. If they did, she would be in
major trouble. She prayed quietly that the security detail would not catch
her and arrest her.
“Show us your papers, citizens,” the guard ordered Debbie sternly as she sat
in her
“Here, Corporal,” she said nervously, as she handed him her driver’s license
and false ID card for
temporary, rotating checkpoints. They made it difficult to avoid detection
by predicting the best roads to take for evading them.
“This ID looks suspicious, ma’am. Step out of the vehicle,” he gruffly
commanded her.
Debbie stopped the car and got out. She feared that she had been caught.
Naturally, she prayed one last time to save her life.
“Excuse me, sir?” she asked him.
“Don’t call me ‘sir’. I work for a living. Anyway, I meant BOTH of you. Out
of the damned car, NOW!” he shouted angrily at them.
obviously underage and everyone present could see it for themselves now.
Debbie realized that her prayers had not been answered. She was going to
face either death, internal exile, or deportation to the
Columbia
nation’s former capital was Hell on Earth. She hoped that she wouldn’t find
out for sure.
“Ma’am, this young lady is clearly not 20 years old, as this phony card
claims. You’re under arrest for violating Article 9 of the Emergency
Criminal Code. You are hereby charged with smuggling
an adolescent citizen
of the female sex outside of the territory controlled by the Republican
Front. This crime carries a possible death sentence, depending upon the
decision of the Revolutionary Tribunal. They
will determine your fate now.
Take this woman to a holding cell for now. Keep them separate, though. We
don’t want any more brainwashing of the poor girl,” Corporal Arthur Delaney
announced.
As the soldiers dragged Mrs. Kendall away, she began screaming and begging
for her life. Anything would be better than facing a firing squad! She
couldn’t stand the idea of being executed by men with rifles. She wet
herself from the absolute horror of the concept. Damn that Republican Front
with their godless Revolution, she thought to herself. I am afraid to die! I
don’t want to be a martyr!
This display of irrational terror, while normal, always made Delaney laugh.
He had faced danger many times and not flinched from it. Here this woman,
who probably believed that death would mean going to Heaven, feared it far
more than he did. So much for the theory that there were no atheists in
foxholes, Arthur smirked. He knew better, as he was one himself.
As for
records were checked and she was proven to be a minor adolescent, she was
then transferred to one of the Front’s new state-run, co-ed youth hostels
for temporary housing. A new ID card was issued to her and she was ordered
to meet with a social worker designated by the Front until permanent custody
of her was determined by the Family Affairs Committee.
Unaware of her daughter’s fate, Debbie showed herself to be far more
concerned now with her own skin. She constantly asked to meet a lawyer, only
to be told that “subversive actions” were beyond civil courts. They were the
province of “revolutionary justice”, meaning the Tribunals. These 3-man
panels held very brief trials, where verdicts and sentences were issued with
incredible speed. Due process of law for crimes like smuggling was suspended
indefinitely.
5 days later…
“Deborah Ann Kendall, this Tribunal has found you guilty of smuggling,
pursuant to Article 9 of the Emergency Criminal Code. The isolated and
first-time nature of the offense, as well as the relatively non-political
life that you have lived so far, allows this Tribunal to offer you clemency,
provided that you prove compliant and co-operative in the matter for which
you committed this crime.
“Surrender legal custody of the adolescent female citizen, namely Shannon
Amber Kendall, to the State, for whatever purpose it deems necessary for
her, and you will have shown that you no longer wish to remove the said
citizen from the jurisdiction of the Front. This will demonstrate to us that
you might have a chance of rehabilitation in the future. At the very least,
this action will save your life. Do you consent to a transfer of custody?”
the Chairman of the Tribunal demanded.
“Is that really what I must do to save my life?” Debbie asked them.
“It will at least guarantee that you are not executed. Anyone else will
depend upon your attitude and behavior. The more you prove willing to serve
the Revolution, the better your chances of staying out of DC. The best case
for you would be internal exile for a mandatory term of 15 years to life.
This would be under conditions of house arrest and probation. You would have
to return home after work and necessary errands. Your housing would be
determined by the State. Is that clear? Do you agree not to contest our
custody of your child, thereby demonstrating your willingness to keep her in
the territories controlled by the Republican Front?” he insisted.
“Yes, your honor,” she anxiously replied, knowing very well that any number
of things could happen to the girl.
“Then you have consented to the State, rather than any member of your
family, deciding the future of your minor child? You will not fight it? Very
well, but I must say that you are evidently not as concerned with the
well-being of your offspring as you claim. You have failed the test. Had you
maintained a refusal to turn over your daughter to the State, it would have
shown that you were at least acting in the best interest of the child,
albeit according to your deluded point of view.
“Because you callously sold out your daughter to an unknown fate, you will
not get even the limited custody that we would have allowed you under
internal exile. Your girl is obviously better off with someone else.
“It is hereby ordered that you be restricted to an address to be assigned to
you by the Bureau of Corrections for the remainder of your natural life.
While we offered you no death penalty or deportation to DC, we will make an
inconsiderate mother like you learn the hard way that there are worse things
than losing your life. You will be prevented from any means of seeing your
daughter again, since she matters less to you than your own hide. Corporal,
take the defendant away,” the Chairman declared.
With that, Debbie Kendall was taken to a prison bus and driven to a holding
cell for the night, pending her assignment to a lifetime of house arrest and
probation. She would be required to stay in the small area designated by the
State, after work she would have to report home, and she would need to
telephone her probation officer for permission to shop for groceries or
anything else necessary, giving him detailed information about what she
needed to buy and how long she would be out of the house.
The next day, she was informed that she had been relocated to a rather old
cottage on a small river island that her church used to own until it was
seized by the State. She would be permitted to leave the house only when
required for work or other business and she would have to share the small
home with a roommate who already resided there. They would have to keep the
place in good condition, as it would be inspected by the probation officer
on his regular visits. There would be cameras on the bridge connecting the
isle to the mainland.
To further restrict her activities, Debbie was stripped of her driver’s
license and issued a new probation ID, apparently standard for all internal
exiles. Her car was auctioned to fill the Treasury. All but 3 items of
clothing were confiscated: a pair of slacks, a blouse, and a winter coat.
Most of her shoes were seized as well. An electronic monitor would be worn
at all times when she left the house and if she was caught without it, she
would be restricted to the house completely for 72 hours. She was forbidden
to possess any firearms or field knives. She was also fingerprinted and
registered into a database for convicted felons. She was given a special bus
card and banned from using bicycles.
Felons were barred from having computers, credit cards, or cellular phones.
All telephone lines were automatically wiretapped. Cable access was
restricted as well, blocking channels regarded as “subversive”, such as the
religious networks (they were deemed too sympathetic to the
limit reading options for convicts and time spent at the libraries was kept
under a maximum of one hour.
Internal exiles were also denied visits from anyone not approved by the
probation officers. No more than 3 visitors could appear at a time and none
of them could stay overnight. Metal detectors were located within 4 yards of
the residence to catch any weapons as well. Any guests caught with them
would be arrested on the spot and charged with obstruction of justice.
This was the life that had been arranged for Deborah Ann Kendall, former 7th
grade schoolteacher (she had also lost her teaching license). She was
assigned a low-scale clerical job with the Public Education Bureau. She was
officially a 2nd class citizen now: a convicted felon under house arrest,
tainted with a record of smuggling.
Her change of career proved to be a minor issue compared to what faced her
when she showed up at her new house. She had been paired with another woman:
Jane Mensch, a very independent-minded divorcee not prone to put up with
anything she considered stupid.
Their very first meeting indicated a less than compatible relationship.
Debbie began to make suggestions about holding a Bible study together, which
didn’t please her roommate.
“If you think that I’m going to waste my time reading that book, you can go
fuck yourself! I have NO interest at all in that Sunday school BS. I had to
put up with it from my ex, which is why we’re divorced. He kept trying to
drag my tired ass off to church, when all I wanted to do on Sunday morning
was sleep in. He wouldn’t stop ‘praying for my soul’, which really got on my
nerves. It’s like he assumed that I’m going to Hell, just because I don’t
blindly follow what the preachers say. No fucking thanks! You can take that
religious crap and shove it up your own stupid ass!” she screamed angrily.
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t cuss. It’s bad enough that you have to
ridicule my faith. Obscenity is needlessly offensive. I don’t like being
here any more than you, but we might as well make it as pleasant and
peaceful as possible. Don’t you think that you should turn to God now, given
that we don’t have many friends here? I’m talking about a personal
relationship with Jesus Christ,” Debbie insisted.
“Shut your stupid fucking mouth, you crazy religious fanatic! If you can
tell me what to say and what not to say, I can do the same to you! The last
thing that I want to hear right now is some claptrap about ‘a personal
relationship’ with a man who got himself killed 2,000 years ago! What do I
look like to you, a fucking necrophile? Good or bad, the man is DEAD! Get
over it, you self-appointed woman preacher!” Jane retorted furiously.
“I hate to sound mean, but if you keep up that attitude, you’re going to
burn in Hell,” Mrs. Kendall replied.
“After you, bitch,” Ms. Mensch snorted.
“Excuse me? I would rather you didn’t use that word. What do you mean by
‘after you’, anyway? I’m not going to Hell. I’m saved,” the former Christian
schoolteacher answered, clearly annoyed.
“Like making some prayer to a dead man is gonna save your soul any more than
it saved your ass? You think that whatever Supreme
Being exists is going to
treat you any better than the other deadbeat Moms? Yeah, bitch, I know all
about why you were sent here. Word gets around, even to a lady under house
arrest. You’re that scheming selfish cunt who sold out her own daughter to
avoid a firing squad or time in DC.
“I don’t why I have to be stuck with you, cowardly, sanctimonious Jesus
freak, but I won’t put up with your bullshit. Let’s clear something up. You
leave me the fuck alone, unless we have to work together on something
necessary. Is that clear to you, bitch?” the divorcee demanded as she lit a
cigarette.
“Those will kill you, Jane. Anyway, God has forgiven me for my actions about
my daughter. The Bible says that….,” she started to “correct” her roommate.
Before she could finish, though, Ms. Mensch shoved the cigarette into her
forehead. This distracted Debbie long enough with pain that Jane was able to
trip her. Grabbing Mrs. Kendall by the hair, the angry roommate then removed
her belt and used it to tie the woman’s hands behind her back. She then hit
the ex-teacher on the head with her own Bible.
When Debbie woke up, she was completely naked and tied to the posts of
Jane’s bed. What was worse, she was on her stomach, with her ass in the air.
There was something buried in her bottom, which hurt like an enema. It
buzzed a bit, which added a disturbing degree of pleasure to the pain. Then
she heard laughing.
“Like my vibrator? I decided to let you borrow it, since you’re without a
man, just like me. A lady needs to take care of her own needs, doesn’t she?
Let me guess. You think masturbation is sinful. Too bad, because you’re
doing it right now and it feels incredible, doesn’t it? Of course, you’re
probably also in some pain, due to the location of the vibrator. That’s part
of being a bitch. You see, if there has to be a bitch in the house, I might
as well make her MY bitch. Wouldn’t you agree?” the roommate taunted Debbie.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked angrily.
“That’s simple. You’re my bitch now. I’ll make you eat me out, rim my ass,
get me off, and service me in general. When you get home from work, you’ll
do your chores, cook dinner, wash the dishes, and report to me for your
sexual duties as my woman. If you do well, I’ll let you get off. If not,
that’s too fucking bad for you. I see a chance to make sure that I am
constantly satisfied. For all you know, this might be fun for you. When I
need you, you’ll be in this bed with me. Otherwise, however, you’ll sleep in
the other room.
“You’ll be quite the little housewife, which you’ve probably wanted anyway.
When I come home from work, you’d better be attentive and obedient. I want
you to give me your paychecks. I’ll shop for groceries, as I don’t trust you
with money. You’d most likely give it to some missionaries or preachers.
“I’ll give you an allowance, which you’ll have to earn. If I catch you
spending it on Bibles, tracts, or anything of the sort, I’ll take it away
for a month. The same is true of any disobedience on your part. Sometimes,
if you’re really bad, I’ll whip and fuck your ass without any lube. Oh, and
you’re also forbidden to wear clothes when we’re alone. Do you understand my
new rules, bitch?” Jane announced.
“Yes, just stop doing to that to me with your vibrator! I’ll obey you, just
don’t sodomize me with that thing!” Mrs. Kendall begged.
“Oh, but I will sodomize you all I want. That’s part of your role as my
bitch. Moreover, you’ll call me ’Mistress’ from now on. I’ll fuck whomever I
please and make you fuck them too. You’re my bitch, my slave, my slut, my
wife, and my property in general. Do you get it now, cunt?” Ms. Mensch
declared.
With that, Jane slammed her fist into Debbie’s pussy, making her squeal with
the new pain and shock of being penetrated there by a hand. She was not
exactly gentle with her invasion of the teacher’s sex, either. Then again,
the beekeeper was in no mood for nonsense.
She didn’t like being “interned” for harboring her ex-husband from the Front
when he was on the run. If she had known WHY he was in trouble, she wouldn’t
have given him shelter, but she hadn’t known at the time. After all, he WAS
the father of their 4 year daughter, now in a foster home. It wasn’t her
fault that he was a right-wing terrorist.
If she had to be a prisoner of sorts, then she would do what other inmates
did: control and rape her cellmate. She didn’t have any qualms about harming
this prima donna, unlike most people. She was prepared to just masturbate,
until the woman pushed her too far. Now, she would have plenty of fun at her
expense.
SEVERUSMAX
Debbie Kendall woke up on the first full day of her internment to the screaming of an angry roommate. She had quite forgotten, except in some of her nightmares, that she was now Jane’s bitch. Ms. Mensch intended to dominate and use her as she saw fit. Apparently, the preaching had caused the divorcee to snap. She had burned Debbie in the forehead with a cigarette, then raped her with a vibrator.
“Get the hell up, bitch! I’m hungry and you have to make me some breakfast! That’s your job now. It’s Sunday morning and I want some food, so you can do something useful for once, instead of wasting your time in church. Cook me some bacon, eggs, and French toast. You have an hour to get it ready. If you’re not done by then, I’ll whip you for your failure to please me,” Jane barked orders at her.
Terrified, Debbie got out of her bed and began to get dressed, so she could take care of her new kitchen duties. Ms. Mensch promptly lashed her bare butt with a bullwhip. Mrs. Kendall dropped to the floor and cried from the sharp pain. Her roommate then cracked the whip again, lashing her back.
“Get off the goddamn floor, bitch! I told you that you had an hour to make breakfast. I didn’t say that you could wear clothes. Now, go make me some food. If there is any left and you behave yourself, I’ll give you the scraps. If not, I’ll just have you throw them away. Is that clear? Good girls get table scraps; bad girls get empty stomachs,” she taunted her.
“Yes, I understand,” Debbie answered, heading off to the kitchen.
“Yes, MISTRESS! You forgot that part, bitch!” Jane thundered.
“Yes, Mistress. Sorry, Mistress,” she sobbed.
“Just for that, there will no table scraps today. You have to earn food, bitch!” Ms. Mensch instructed her.
“Yes, Mistress. I’ll do better, Mistress,” Mrs. Kendall promised.
So, Debbie had to rush through making breakfast for her roommate, knowing that she would get none of it herself. She would have to watch somebody else eat, not getting anything for her own stomach. Her belly growled at her, while Jane savored the meal that SHE cooked.
When Ms. Mensch was finished, she handed the dishes to Mrs. Kendall, saying, “Those dishes won’t wash themselves, you know. You have a busy day ahead of you. I expect you to get this house nice and clean. You have 3 hours to do that. Bear in mind that if you do well today, tomorrow’s chores will be a cinch. It must be spic and span, is that clear?” the beekeeper commanded the former teacher.
“Yes, Mistress. I will do it. The house will be clean in 3 hours,” she replied, lowering her head.
“Good, but if I am displeased with anything, your ass will pay for it. Did you hear me?” Jane warned her.
“Yes, Mistress. I will pay with my ass if I fail to get it cleaned to your satisfaction,” Debbie paraphrased her roommate’s words.
“Precisely. Now, get cracking! I don’t want to hear anything from you until I check out your labor. This will be a ‘white glove inspection’, meaning perfection is the standard. Until then, I have a TV show to watch, so leave me alone and get to work,” Ms. Mensch brusquely announced.
Debbie immediately got busy, sweating her ass off with household chores. Meanwhile, she could hear Jane listening in her room to some Nature show about the mating habits of Bengal tigers. Her Mistress had some BORING interests, but that was not for her to judge anymore. “Mistress Jane” was the arbiter of standards in the house now. Debbie was supposed to shut up and go along with the program.
When Ms. Mensch came out of her room and examined Mrs. Kendall’s work, she approved of almost everything that the teacher did with the house. She gave her roommate/slave a “grade” of 97%: an “A”. Unfortunately, that was not “white glove”.
“I told you, it had to be perfect, didn’t I? You’re 3 points off, so you’ll have to be punished for your incomplete job. Now, the penalty for that infraction is EXACTLY what I told you: your ass is mine and I’m going to make it suffer! Bend over and spread your cheeks. I’m going to enjoy using your butt for my pleasure!” she declared.
Debbie obeyed, nervously awaiting whatever plan Jane had for her tush. Suddenly, the whip cracked again and struck her between the cheeks of her bottom. It even stung her pussy a bit. She winced from pain as her roommate kept lashing her butt with the bullwhip. Her ass became red from the strokes of the whip.
After this assault on her derriere, Mrs. Kendall thought that the worst was over. Sadly for her, Ms. Mensch had other ideas. She put on her thigh harness with a strap-on dildo, a device that she had bought more recently, since she had to save the money for it. Positioning it between her butt cheeks, she shoved it into the ex-teacher’s sphincter.
Since Debbie had NEVER taken a cock up her ass, let alone a strap-on dildo (just a vibrator the day before), she went into shock from the agony of being sodomized. There was no lube, nor any attempt to ease the rubber dick into her bottom. Jane delighted in making it hurt like hell, as she thrust her artificial member in her bitch’s backdoor.
This act lasted for about 30 minutes, during which Mrs. Kendall was traumatized. The pain was bad enough, but she was also participating (albeit unwillingly) in anal intercourse, which she considered an abomination. Her tush felt as if it was being ripped and torn apart by the rubber cock, while Ms. Mensch completely enjoyed herself. She found herself crying as the fake manhood impaled her roughly.
By the time that Jane stopped ramming Debbie’s butt hole, the former teacher’s bottom was burning from the whipping and buggery. Unfortunately, she was STILL not done suffering for her crime. Jane bent over herself and ordered Debbie to kiss her ass.
“Lick my butt-crack, so I will cum. That should be enough for the day, not counting dinner and toilet duties,” she instructed her bitch.
“Toilet duties?” Mrs. Kendall fearfully asked.
“Toilet duties, MISTRESS, you mean. Just for that, I will show you immediately after you rim me. You will drink my piss, bitch, so I only have to use the bathroom for number two. Comprehende?” Ms. Mensch replied harshly, as she shoved her ass into her slave’s face.
Debbie, disgusted as she was, proceeded to lick her Mistress’s butt clean. The anal sweat was a strange, but oddly pleasant fluid to taste. She surprised herself by enjoying her new task. She hoped that didn’t make her too much of a pervert. She even caught herself loving the scent of Jane’s juices, as she made her lover climax.
THAT was the greatest shock to her. She had begun to think of the beekeeper as her LOVER! The experience of a lesbian relationship was extremely delightful to her, as opposed to the concept of it that was drummed into her mind as a teen by her fundamentalist parents. She was even FALLING for her roommate/Mistress!
In the midst of her orgasm, Jane had some difficulty hearing what Debbie said next, but it sounded suspiciously like “I love you”. She smirked, realizing that she had “outed” a bisexual or lesbian woman who had recently been in the “born-again” closet. Which was she, Jane wondered. It didn’t really matter, of course. She would obey her in all matters, including fucking whomever her Mistress required her to fuck.
As she pissed down Mrs. Kendall’s throat, Ms. Mensch laughed about the fact that the woman was stupid enough to try to take her daughter to Cincinnati, when the Evangelical Commonwealth was trying desperately to defend its remaining foothold in southern Ohio. The last she had heard, the Oral Roberts Brigade of the EC’s “Army of Christ” had been mauled by the advancing National Guard at the Battle of Lebanon. It was retreating to take part in the Evangelicals’ last-ditch stand at Cincinnati itself.
While Debbie gulped and tried to hold down Jane’s urine, the latter reflected on her bitch’s idiocy. She would make an excellent sex slave for Jane, a bitch to be used as her Mistress saw fit. To think, she snickered, she’s mine for LIFE! That sentence means that I can abuse and control her for the rest of her life. My internment could have been worse than this: a LOT worse, in fact! Better this than masturbating every day for the duration of a monotonous existence.
To be continued…..
Debbie Kendall showed up for her new job at the Education Bureau, to find her supervisor was NOT sympathetic in the least. He was a 51 year old professional civil servant who had dealt with too many women of her type: stuffy, prim, and conventional. He had a beard and a receding hairline, as well as a beer belly. He also had a very dry sense of humor and a formidable intellect, which he made a point of demonstrating to everyone. Jake Fowler had no interest in listening to sanctimonious drivel from a former 7th grade Christian schoolteacher.
“Mrs. Kendall, let me remind you of a very relevant fact here. You’re a convicted felon. That means that you have no political or civil rights at the moment. You have been assigned to this job as a part of your internal exile. We will find a position for you, but don’t count on it being too pleasant or cushy. The pay will be a couple of grades above minimum wage these days, since the war prevents us putting out extra moneys for criminals on work release.
“You must be aware that I, unlike you, have no grievances against the Government. I am a member of the Republican Front myself, as are just about all middle and top-level managers in the public sector. The Front is here to stay. The war with the Communists will soon be over and Pennsylvania will be reunited with the liberated territory of the Union. You must learn to accept the new regime and make your peace with it. I can’t predict very much of the future, but I CAN say that yours will be brighter if you do your job and not cause any trouble for me,” Fowler announced.
“Yes, Mr. Fowler. I understand that. I just thought that you might care about what has happened to people on your staff. I assumed that you might concern yourself with the fact that I am being raped and abused by my roommate. She has made her ‘bitch’, as she calls me,” Debbie replied.
“Look, if you are being forced to do things, that is a matter for the police. It is not my responsibility to look after your welfare off the job. My only interest is that you do your work while on the clock. OFF the clock, you can pursue your lover’s spat with this ‘Mensch’ woman. It sounds to me like you have a dispute with your girlfriend, because if it was truly rape, you would be taking it to the authorities. In any case, this Bureau doesn’t concern itself with the sex lives of people on its staff, especially those such as yourself who are little more than prisoners under house arrest,” Jake informed her.
“But, Mr. Fowler, I…” Kendall stammered, but he cut her off.
“Enough whining. You’re 5 minutes late to your files, because of this conversation. I would recommend that you clock in and try to get most of today’s wages,” Fowler urged her.
You stupid bitch, Fowler thought. You are being punished by the Republican Front and you think that it will care about the possibility that you might be raped by a cellmate? As far as most officials in the Front are concerned, that is a suitable part of your sentence. Most prisons involve rape at some point. This unfortunate civil war has seen plenty of rape and other crimes in the process of fighting it. The new regime is tired of coddling lawbreakers like yourself. The number of laws are being reduced, as they should, while the penalties for violating them are becoming more severe.
The truth, in Fowler’s mind, was that Debbie Kendall had gotten off easy. She could have been sent to DC or executed by a firing squad, but she merely got internal exile. The Communists would have put her in a gulag for something like this or given her a pistol shot to the head and thrown her into a mass grave. If all that the widow suffered was restriction to work release and rape at the hands of her roommate, that was a minor complaint by comparison.
After she finished her work for the day, Debbie headed straight for home, afraid that she would be penalized for breaking curfew. She also feared that Jane would be furious over any tardiness. She was right. Ms. Mensch was also angry about the minutes that Mrs. Kendall had been docked.
“Apparently, you haven’t learned your job or the rules. There is only one reason why you would be late for the clock. You were complaining about me. I hope that you realize now that such complaints will do no good. They don’t CARE what happens to someone like you. The only person who cares about this situation is me and what I want is your body as my property for my own pleasure. Now, I want you to bend over and spread your cheeks. I am about to fuck you in the ass,” Jane said as she put her strap-on dildo in her thigh harness.
“Please don’t do that again! It will tear me up and cause me to bleed. I’m begging you! Don’t sodomize me!” Mrs. Kendall pleaded.
Naturally, Ms. Mensch ignored the begging and brutally shoved the dildo up Debbie’s sphincter. She didn’t worry about the pain that Mrs. Kendall experienced while she buggered her. She just grabbed her shoulders and used them to thrust deeper inside Debbie’s backdoor. The poor woman grunted from the agony of the large device plundering her bottom. She cried as it tore up her insides and stretched out her asshole. Jane showed no mercy or compassion as she slammed into her bowels.
“No more, Ms. Mensch! Stop raping me and let me stand up. You’ve violated my backside! Please stop it! It’s unbearable!” Debbie screamed.
“That’s too bad for you. You’re MINE now, bitch! Get that through your cranium! You have no rights and no dignity. You are my possession, to be used as I wish. I think that the message will only be driven home if you get fucked in the ass every day, so from now on, that is what will happen. There will NEVER be any lube, either. If you are good, I will not make you suck it afterward. If you are bad, you will not even get that consideration. Is that understood, slut?” Jane demanded.
“Yes, Mistress,” Mrs. Kendall sobbed.
“And NO MORE complaining about me to anyone, including the police. They won’t listen to you, they don’t care about you, and you’re just wasting their time. And if I find out that you have been docked any more pay, you will get a thorough lashing. Now, suck my strap-on! You have been VERY BAD today!” Ms. Mensch told her sternly.
Debbie sucked on the dildo, despite her personal dislike of this act. She was still torn between her emerging bisexual feelings and her upbringing. She hated being mistreated, but strangely loved her Mistress. She just hoped that she would get to EAT something, not counting pussy. She had been starving all day, since she had not been permitted breakfast this morning, either.
“Now, lie down, so I can fuck your cunt. You must NOT cum, however. If you cum, you may not eat. If you refrain from cumming, you MIGHT get some supper, provided that you finish cooking it within 30 minutes of being fucked to near orgasm. That’s right. I will bring you close to climax, but not permit you to go that far,” Jane warned her.
“Yes, Mistress,” Mrs. Kendall replied, and then lay on her back with her legs in the air, as Jane had instructed her the previous night.
Ms. Mensch ruthlessly invaded her slave’s pussy, pulling in and out at HER discretion. She seemed to instinctively understand when to stop, so as to avoid allowing Debbie a release. She also French-kissed her slut several times, while playing with her tits. The poor woman was driven to near madness with the distracting pain of her sore butt, while being deprived of her orgasm and kept on the brink.
When Mrs. Kendall couldn’t take any more torture, Jane pulled out of her the final time and removed her strap-on. She sat on Debbie’s face and leaned over to 69 her. She made the bitch eat her to a climax, while stopping short of giving her one. She then got off her frustrated roommate and sent her to the kitchen to cook.
“Oh, and our 69 put you down to 23 minutes. You’ll have to hurry to make it in time,” Jane announced with a sadistic smile.
Against the impending odds, Debbie managed to finish cooking supper in time to serve her Mistress. She laid it out on the kitchen table, knowing by now to serve Ms. Mensch first.
“Oh, and you’re not to sit at the table with me. YOU will sit in a chair to the side and eat only the rice. Meat will be the next thing that you must earn. You don’t need meat every day,” her Mistress informed her.
Debbie took some rice and soda, at which point Jane stopped her again, “No soda for you. YOU drink tap water. Soda will have to be earned as well.”
Mrs. Kendall put the soda back and poured herself a glass of water, but had to put the ice back before she started, since Ms. Mensch would only allow her to drink her water at room temperature. She then had to serve dessert, in the form of ice cream, to Jane. SHE, of course, was denied any ice cream.
After serving as Jane’s toilet that night and taking her shower, Debbie was sent off to bed early. She still had a half-empty stomach at this point. Jane was still in the living room, watching TV for much of the night. Debbie’s sleep was disturbed by her Mistress’s laughing, but she dare not complain. Whining was useless, as today had proven. She simply resolved to earn some pleasure by being a better slave. She was completely defeated by now. She had surrendered to slavery.
Debbie Kendall had adjusted a bit to her situation as Jane Mensch’s sex slave, and it was oddly the lesbian factor that was easier on her than the others. Taking a strap-on dildo regularly up her ass was far more difficult, given that she was an anal virgin before being sent there, and had no intentions of ever changing that.
Being dominated was galling to her ego, but she had always been taught that one should “turn the other cheek” and practice humility. Even so, she was raped frequently by Jane, and the law didn’t give a damn or intervene, nor did the Lord. Furthermore, she was required to drink piss, as well as other “unnatural things”.
She had managed to earn the privilege of eating full meals and drinking something other than urine and tap water, but she wasn’t used to that being anything other than a right. Oh, well, she was always brought up to think less of rights and more of duties. Then again, her Christian values were in conflict with the Enlightenment principles on which America and its freedoms were founded. She had never truly reconciled those contradictions, like many evangelical Christians in the Western, liberal world.
What confused her most was the fact that she had felt more pleasure with Jane than during her marriage to Tom. Her late husband had been fairly gentle in making love to her, but he was a complete failure in pleasing a woman sexually. Since she didn’t approve of cunnilingus, he never really got much of a chance, to be honest. The foreplay that she allowed him to practice with her was very pathetic and ineffective, particularly given that she had been taught that too much focus on the clit was unhealthy.
Nevertheless, she had expected him to satisfy her, which had never happened. As a result, sex had reverted to being her wifely chore, to tolerate for his sake when unavoidable, as well as a means of procreation. Since Jane hadn’t bothered to ask her permission about what she did, she had introduced her to cunnilingus in a short time. At first, it was primarily about her giving head to Ms. Mensch, but then she was rewarded with some pleasure of her own.
The use of toys was also a factor that had been excluded from her prior, traditional marriage. Now that Debbie was Jane’s slave, there was no longer an option to decline them. The strap-on dildo and the butt-plug, of course, were the least favorite tools in Mrs. Kendall’s mind. They represented pain and discomfort, especially when there was no lube involved. Lately, however, Jane had softened on the lubrication issue, and rewarded a more compliant Debbie with enough to reduce the agony of butt sex.
The floggers and straps were somewhat more positive, but still not that fondly remembered or experienced by the widow and prisoner. Wearing handcuffs and other restraints was a bit uncomfortable and humiliating as well, yet it also excited her in the same kind of embarrassing way as the whips and Jane’s tongue. When Ms. Mensch peed in her mouth, that disgusted her, but she felt nothing but desire and joy when they kissed on the lips. They had even graduated to tongue kisses, which indicated that a bond had developed in spite of their adversarial relationship.
Jane had a special surprise for Debbie six months into their involvement with each other. It was twofold, in fact. One was the news that Jane herself was no longer a convict. She had been granted full amnesty, as part of a secret bargain that she made with the authorities. She had gained more privileges over time, anyway, which was why she could purchase sex toys when Debbie had to stick to basics like groceries. Now she was totally a free and unrestricted citizen.
“Debbie, my love slave, I’m able to live wherever I want, but I asked to stay here with you. You’re still under house arrest, but I got them to agree to more rights for you, since you’ll be in my custody from now on. I can’t promise that things will improve more for you than that, but life under my roof will be a little easier than it has been for you. Now that I am not being oppressed, I won’t take things out on you. I don’t have to wear an ankle monitor, and neither do you now. I got them to concede that.
“I think that the State is happy to put me in charge of you, since it means that you’re still being punished to some extent through the loss of your freedom, but the actual enforcement and headaches are left up to me. Think of me as your Mistress, girlfriend, and probation officer, all rolled into one. This doesn’t mean that your life will return to normal, by the standards of your previous life, but it does mean that I will be more generous with the rewards than I have been toward you.
“You’re going to be on a larger allowance from your paycheck, which can be taken away at any point. No appeals to the authorities will help, since they have given me broad discretion in supervising you. This will be less like a prison and more of an actual home, however. Unless you do something truly despicable, I’ll completely drop the restricted diet and let you do more shopping than in the past. I won’t permit you to go to church, but you already know that.
“You will share a bed with me at night and have sex with me when I want, on my terms. That much won’t change, naturally. There will still be a lot of bondage and domination, not to mention SM. There will also be more of a regular kind of sex, however, in terms of the Sapphic mainstream. I’ve convinced them that we’re a true lesbian couple in every sense, so they will expect to find proof that we’re lovers, whenever they make a few random inspections. Aside from that, you’re totally in my hands.
“At some point, I want to marry you, and I have told the State this much. That is a factor in this whole business, as it was part of my campaign to prove my desire to be with you and willingness to keep you in line. The government isn’t exactly puritanical on such things, as witnessed by the fact that it is now legal to marry members of your own gender. Nevertheless, anything that I could say to make it clear that I was committed to you helped my case to be given custody, instead of keeping you in your previous status. It reassured them that you wouldn’t be roaming freely, on your own.
“Now, don’t get all freaked out by the idea of a same-sex marriage. I know that is against your religious beliefs, but so is everything else that we’ve done here. Furthermore, you’re at least bi, if not gay. We both know as much, so there is no point in claiming otherwise. Just in case you wondered, I’m a pure lesbian, without any question. That’s why my marriage to my ex didn’t last, among other things. When I realized the truth, I came out immediately to my husband and asked for a divorce, knowing that it wasn’t fair to either of us to continue a union based on lies and incompatible needs.
“It is ironic that the other problem in my marriage was that he was a religious zealot, just like you, but I’ve told you about that. Then again, I’m in charge of our relationship, so I am able to prevent the kind of nonsense that he shoved down my throat about Jesus and such. I am aware that you are conflicted about being bisexual or gay, since it’s against your religion, but you should know that this is your nature. You don’t need to fight it. You like women, and you’re at least infatuated with me, if not more. Why deny the truth of it?
“That’s part of why I’m staying, along with my desire to continue topping you. I can’t abandon you to loneliness and heartache from having lost me. You know that you would miss me, don’t you? I can’t promise to ever be as fond of you as you are of me, but I do care about you enough to want you to be happy, as long as you please me. I don’t want to hurt you, at least not in that way.
“So, my dear Deborah, you will be my bride in time. I will consummate our marriage by fucking you with the strap-on, of course. After that, if you’re good, it will be gentle lovemaking, I assure you, for the rest of the wedding night. Oral sex, tribbing, and fingers, I mean. Now, speaking of rug-munching, I want you to thank me and accept my proposal by eating me out,” Jane demanded, ending her announcement with a look that straddled the line between severity and seduction.
“Yes, Mistress,” Debbie consented, while Jane dropped her pants and presented her lower half for oral servicing.
Mrs. Kendall quickly parted her Domme’s thighs and started licking her pussy, but Jane decided to complicate things for her. She turned around and propped her ass up on the sofa, indicating through gestures that Debbie was to tongue both cunt and ass. When the former schoolmarm complied, Ms. Mensch sighed with the delicious experience of being eaten like that. She squirmed as well, feeling her bottom almost melt from her slave’s pleasing mouth.
“Damn, Debbie, you are getting so much better at eating pussy and ass! I think that you’re enjoying it, too, aren’t you? Be honest with me. You like the taste of my sex and my butt, don’t you?” Jane commanded her.
Debbie hated admitting it, in as much as it hurt her vanity to accept that she was more aroused at this point that she had ever been with Tom. Somehow, performing oral sex on a dominant woman brought a kind of thrill that conventional, marital sex with a passive and timid man couldn’t provide her. The Biblical model had failed her, for one reason or another. True, it had stated that the man was supposed to be the head of the wife, but it contradicted itself in so many places that the majority of evangelical husbands were either tyrants or milksops. Tom was the latter, and she knew it. It was still galling to face the reality that she needed either a top or a woman, or both, to be happy and satisfied in her love life.
“Yes, Mistress, I like it!” she finally declared, much to her shame and exhilaration.
As she licked Jane’s butt, Debbie felt her own climax closing in on her. It was disturbing to her, how wet she could become just by going down on another woman. Maybe she really was gay, if she really loved it that much, and no man had ever aroused her in such a fashion. For a lady brought up with strong moral compunctions against any form of homosexuality or bisexuality, it was something to alarm her as much as it intensified the guilty pleasure. She just wasn’t accustomed to the idea of being a lesbian.
“Mistress, I’m cumming, please let me!” she begged Jane.
“Yes, cum with me, slave! I’m cumming, too!” Jane gushed on her face, and then promptly turned to kiss her lips.
Debbie’s own release came right then, as she felt her juices reach her knees and the carpet. They both stood, and Jane continued to kiss her mouth, inserting her tongue for greater impact and intimacy. This woman was her slave, her pet, for better or worse. Ms. Mensch could sense her lover’s addiction to this arrangement. She was trapped, even without the life sentence.
“I hope God forgives me, but I love you, Jane! I’m sorry, Mistress!” Debbie stammered, and then apologized for forgetting her place.
“Debbie, I’ll let it slide this time. That was beautiful and worth the momentary disrespect, which few things are in this lifestyle. We’re lovers, and I can definitely live with that. In fact, I think that both of us are better off together, even if we didn’t get along at first. That’s a good explanation for why I stayed. I love how you adore, serve, and worship me! A girl could get used to it, and I think that I have, so to speak. Ordinary lovers would try to be equals in most cases, but I want to wear the pants in my relationships. That’s another reason why my marriage didn’t last. I was a Domme married to a vanilla guy.
“Don’t worry about fidelity. I am not a cheater, and I think that I’m too jealous for swinging. It will just be us. An exclusive deal, with you serving me as my lone slave. That’s how it would have been, anyway, had I not gotten my amnesty. No reason to change it now. I am guessing that you’re gay, but I could be wrong. You seem to be experiencing true sexual satisfaction for a change, and you are totally thrown by it.
“Men can’t make you happy, can they? Their dicks don’t do it for you, don’t make you cry with joy and ecstasy, do they? You need a softer skin against yours, a woman’s kiss, and a wet pussy to serve with your lips and tongue, don’t you? Tell me what you really think, no, feel, about this issue,” Ms. Mensch insisted.
“I believe that you’re right, Mistress. I love you in a way that I couldn’t love Tom, may Christ forgive me! I don’t know why I want to sin so much, or why I can’t enjoy what God and Nature intended. I just feel a rush with you that men have never given me, sexually or otherwise. I am a terrible Christian for saying this, but I really am gay. I’m a lesbian, Mistress,” Mrs. Kendall confessed, embarrassed and eager at once.
“So, no men, then? It’s understand and written in stone that we won’t fool around on each other, especially with men! Your pussy and ass are solely mine, for my exclusive use! Same with your sweet, glossy lips, which belong to me and no one else! Is that clear, slave?” Jane was back in her dominant mood.
“Yes, Mistress. I don’t want men. I don’t even want other women. I just want you, Mistress,” Debbie yielded to a permanently lesbian life as a love slave for Jane, although it was terrifying to think of what the Lord might think of her.
“That’s a good girl, Debbie. Now, I have won special permission to take you out to dinner now and then. Since you haven’t eaten out in that sense in months, I think that you’re due for a good restaurant meal, don’t you think? I want to celebrate my freedom and our future nuptials, too,” Ms. Mensch stated with a smile and a French kiss for Mrs. Kendall.
“Thank you, Mistress!”
“Good, because this means that I can show off my love slave. Get your clothes on and primp yourself for a good Sunday dinner out for a change!” Jane instructed Debbie, who promptly went to freshen up while the Domme pulled up her slacks, the only part of her not ready for the meal.
Naturally, the otherwise confused Debbie was prepared far sooner than she normally would be for this kind of dinner. She was excited, and definitely reverted to her habits as a wife in taking pride in her appearance. She wanted to reflect well on her lover, her Mistress. Once a lady, always a lady, she laughed at herself, happy for once in her life. She wondered if the restaurant which Jane had in mind served a good chicken-fried steak. Lady or not, she was still a bit of a hillbilly at times.
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