1 comments/ 52104 views/ 8 favorites Prison Days Ch. 01 By: Taunus Lara heard the clang of the bell. It was time to get up. In a few minutes there would be the telltale metallic scrape as the sliding window in the cell door opened. Lara would stand with her back to the cell door and offer her wrists through the door for the handcuffs. She only had a few minutes to be ready. She knew better than to keep the guards waiting. There was no mirror in the room for her to gaze into. In fact the only thing in the cell of gray concrete and silver stainless steel was a thick woolen blanket. The concrete floor was not cold, however. There were pipes circulating temperature-controlled water. As a rule, the room was a comfortable temperature. Lara could be disciplined by an adjustment in the temperature of the circulating water in the pipes. Opposite the steel door was a dish-like indentation in the floor with a large hole in the middle. This was the drain for all waste from the room. It was Lara's toilet. The ceiling was a thick Plexiglas, protecting the lighting fixtures, a surveillance camera, and other sensors. Lara sometimes wondered what desperate inmate would try to destroy the camera or the lights. The room was small, barely wider than the door. Lara slept between the door and the drain. She would have to relieve herself facing the door. She folded the blanket and tended to her intimacies quickly. There was no toilet paper or tissues. The room had the odor of a caged human beast. Lara had accepted that some time ago. She also knew the ritual of the day ahead. At least, she had a general idea of the day ahead. She had learned to gauge the footsteps and to position herself just at the critical moment. She heard the click and immediately placed her wrists at the window in the center of the door. She stared straight ahead. It was forbidden to look into the faces of the guards. She felt masculine hands lock on the handcuffs. This was good because men usually didn't lock the cuffs too tightly. The female guards enjoyed locking the handcuffs painfully tight on the girls' wrists. Circulation of blood would be impeded and the girl would suffer as her hands became sore and swollen. The downside of having been secured by a male guard was that he---or they---might decide to pleasure themselves with the bound girl. She stood firm as the door opened and hands pulled her cuffed wrists into the hall. Today the male guards weren't interested in using her. Probably some other girl had caught their fancy. Lara was marched from her cell to the preparation room. The cell door was left open. Another inmate would be assigned to hose down the room and regularly change the blanket. The women assigned to cleaning tasks were generally less attractive to clients on the Internet. The hall floor was also concrete, but it was cold on Lara's bare feet. From time to time she would see another girl being escorted down the hall. Some were ending their day on the game grids; others were being prepared to serve on the virtual reality worlds. Lara had been down this corridor many times. She knew almost perfectly the right speed. She didn't want to feel the prod to hurry up or the yank on her cuffed wrists to slow down. To both her right and left sides were cells. Some doors were open for the cleaning crew; other doors were secured---their inmates off-duty. Lara would catch glances of the other girls, but they were never allowed to communicate with each other. It would be possible to talk through the drain hole in the floor; however, the surveillance camera would notice and punishment would be forthcoming. The preparation room was a blinding white. The lighting was fluorescent and much too bright. Lara knew the routine. She walked over to a cold stainless steel table and let the guards slid her, belly down, into position. Lara relaxed as lubricated female hands spread the glorious hemispheres of her derriere and inserted a large nozzle into her rectum, distending her anus. She knew that water would be pumped in and the contents of her bowels flushed out until nothing remained. This was the first step in her preparation to be wired into the game grid. Lara kept her head turned to the left and her eyes closed. It was a bad idea to stare at the medical personnel. The women performing these procedures could be incredibly cruel if they wanted to. At last the colonic irrigation was done. Then the "snake" was to be introduced into her large bowel. The snake was a tube with fiber-optic sensors along its length and both pneumatic and hydraulic systems. It would slither and worm its way into Lara, ending with its "head" at the base of her ascending colon. This monster could expand or contract and flex itself so as to press the bowels against the terminus of the vagina or against a distended bladder. Lara knew not to resist. The snake would be inserted in any case. Should she try to struggle against this invasion, the medical personnel would become angry. Time would be wasted from her schedule on the game grid. Another girl would not be relieved in a timely manner. A client might have to wait. Then Lara would be punished. She had no desire for that to happen. After this procedure Lara was turned over on her back. She struggled to position her cuffed wrists to minimize the pain. If the handcuffs were too tight, the steel would cut into her flesh, adding torment to her indignity. She rocked her head back and closed her eyes tightly as she felt the speculum being inserted into her vagina. She was relieved that the female medical assistant was using a small speculum and being gentle. Lara knew not to speak. A new girl, feeling herself overly distended, might beg mercy. That would simply infuriate the attendant who would be even more harsh and sadistic in the examination. Perspiration beaded up on Lara's forehead as a wicked catheter pushed itself into her uterus, forcing her cervix to open and the mucus plug to be broken. Lara felt the bulb on the indwelling catheter expand. A second catheter would be inserted into her bladder, also indwelling and held firmly in place by an inflated bulb. This was the second device attached for the voyage into her virtual reality session. Lara knew that liquid---water, saline (salt water), or some chemical could be pumped into her bladder to her discomfort or torment. Often chilled water, just above freezing, would be pumped into her and drained to ensure that she was aware of her total helplessness. Today there was no such indignity. Sometimes the girl would be outfitted with other appliances, but today everything was simply to be "straight sex," as far as Lara could tell. After the indwelling catheter in her womb was in place, a pear-shaped device was inserted into Lara's vagina. By the turning of a screw, the "pear" would open up. This was much like a hand being turned into a fist. The surface of the device held the sensors, transducers, and other connectors necessary to make girl-to-machine interface a reality. A blue plate was secured in place, clamping on to Lara's vulva and clitoris. The outside of the plate offered sockets, connectors, and electric jacks. Once locked in place, Lara could not remove this inhuman contraption. She wouldn't be able to anyway, with her hands cuffed behind her. She was now almost ready to be plugged into virtual reality. At a computer terminal, Lara had cups placed over her breasts and fastened in place. Her handcuffs were at last removed and her hands locked into leather restraints allowing her to access a computer keyboard. She could not manage to reach her privates or her breasts, which were to be controlled remotely. Another inmate came and fit a wig over her bald head. The girls had their hair sheared off each week, leaving only stubble. Their pubic hair was also shorn, but the hair in their armpits was left. The girls were constantly aware of their body odor. Being allowed a bath was a significant reward. Having an attendant wipe down a girl at the computer terminal was considered a major favor, one to be repaid as soon as possible. And, even in this Cyberspace hell, there were ways that a girl could reward her jailers. The first client was looking for a girl to service him. He saw Lara's face on the cam and had fiber optic traces of the insides of her privates. Lara skillfully manipulated her avatar to offer the client maximal satisfaction. As he clicked on her clitoris, Lara felt the transducers function. She was becoming aroused. The client wanting normal, routine sex was always welcome. She talked into the microphone encouraging him and saying flattering things. This was Lara's one contact with the outside world. How often had she heard the client utter, after he had enjoyed his orgasm, that she was the girl for him? But there was no escape from this prison. It was located somewhere in the tundra, somewhere in the frozen permafrost beyond the Arctic Circle. Even if she could get free from the prison confines, there would be no way to survive the elements. The client viewed Lara's face and her inner surfaces. Viewing her vagina and uterus in detail, as well the entire length of her large bowel, the client was able to perfectly determine whether or not Lara was experiencing the orgasm that was being induced. More likely, however, Lara would have to hold her climax until being commanded to cum. This could be a difficult process as the transducers and vibrators worked against her control. Should she climax before being given permission, a severe punishment might be inflicted. There were also times that she would be made uncomfortable and then commanded to climax. She would have to try and imagine some scenario while her bladder was filled with chilled ice water or her vagina was being painfully distended. This day, however, the Masters enjoying her submissiveness were normal and humane. This could be called a typical day in the life of an inmate in the Internet Cybersex Prison. Prison Days Ch. 02 Day two Rita did not satisfy her client on the game grid. In fact, he even gave her a negative rating. This was a serious matter for Rita and her handler. After she was taken from the keyboard, unplugged, and her hands cuffed behind her back, Rita's handler begin the familiar routine for lessons learned. "Does a girl wish her face slapped?" Rita's handler asked. The handler's name was Karen, but Rita was never allowed to use it. Of course Rita knew the name well. Karen was notorious for being a martinet. "Oh, yes, Mistress," Rita replied, "A girl begs you to punish her severely." Each girl in the prison was required to beg and plead for punishment and to thank their punisher. It doubled the insult and the injury. Karen waited while Rita shook her head, as if to clear cobwebs and let the flicker of the video monitor subside. Karen smiled and extended her face with a forced smile. Karen made sure that her palm was cupped to Rita's cheek. Then Karen made a full Kung Fu circular swath with her right hand culminating in a painful, flat slap on Rita's left cheek. Karen's palm stung from the impact. It was perfect, the flat palm made a complete surface-to-surface contact. Tears swelled up in Rita's eyes as her left cheek burned and reddened. "Thank you so much, Mistress," Rita held back a sob. She couldn't stop the hot salty tears, however. Karen used her index finger to collect the tears and tasted them. There was something symbolic in the taste of a girl's pain. "May a girl's other cheek enjoy the Mistress as well." Rita struggled to smile and present herself again. Karen rubbed Rita's right cheek with the flat of her left hand. Karen was right-handed, so she wouldn't be able to slap as hard with her left hand. She made up for that by caressing and rubbing Rita's right cheek, gently pinching and pulling the soft, velvety skin. Then without warning she executed a short linear strike. Rita's head jolted back with the impact. It took a few seconds from the time the slap happened until Rita felt the pain. She was numb at first. This was the opportunity for Rita to quickly thank her assailant. When the full smart of the blow was felt, she would have difficulty in expressing herself with deep sincerity and appreciation. "Mistress, you are so wonderful," Rita uttered. Karen smiled as she watched Rita struggle with the sentence. For sure Rita didn't enjoy the pain. Her begging for something that she loathed, detested, and abhorred made it all the more pleasing to Karen. Karen put a leash on Rita and led her down the corridors. They finally stopped at a niche in the corridor. Overhead lights glared. Karen summonsed some burly male guards who chained Rita's hands high above her head. Rita was grateful that they had left her feet flat on the floor. She had seen girls forced to stand on their tiptoes and others whose feet dangled in mid-air. The whipping was next on Karen's agenda. But first an audience would have to be assembled. The guards went to the occupied rooms and fetched female inmates. Some were sleeping or eating, but it made no difference. They all were made to kneel and watch. Karen was an expert with the five-pronged leather whip. This particular whip was designed to inflict the maximum pain with the minimum of permanent physical disfigurement. A girl could be whipped often and still never bear a scar on her blemish-free, flawless complexion. Of course, for the next several days there would be some nice bruises. These might even enhance Rita's marketability on the Internet, when displayed in real time! Rita faced the wall as Karen gently stroked her back. From Rita's right shoulder to her left flank, Karen rubbed the area of impact for the whip. Karen could feel the girl quiver and wince. It was important to strike at precisely the right moment. Rita's breathing was quick and irregular. Karen wanted Rita's lungs empty. A girl was not to cry out during punishment. Rita would sense the blow and hold her breath, only to quickly exhale. Karen waited until Rita had to take a deep breath and totally exhale. Then the forehand arc brought leather and skin into perfect osculation. The whip kissed Rita with a loud crack. Rita convulsed in pain but didn't scream. The kneeling girls watched. The second blow was a backhand strike from Rita's left shoulder to her right flank. The third blow was to be across Rita's buttocks. Preparing for the blow across Rita's buttocks, Karen commanded her ward to lean forward, pulling against the chains, standing on tiptoes, and elevating her derriere for maximal presentation. Rita held this position as long as she could. Finally she had to slip back to a regular stance. Quickly she returned to the required pose. Karen waited. Soon Rita would tire again. She recovered again. Then, the third time Rita had to reposition herself Karen knew that the time was right. The girl's calves and ankles were exhausted and her legs aching from tension. The whip made a semicircle and lashed about Rita's derriere with a cruel cracking sound. There were three more lashes to go. In strokes four and five, Rita was to face Karen and raise a leg, exposing the smooth, creamy inner thigh for Karen's use and abuse. Rita would have to beg for Karen to be strong. Karen would not disappoint the request. Again, Karen was an artist of pain. She would have Rita hold up her leg until exhaustion set in before making her strike. She coupled the tension with Rita's breathing to doubly reinforce the event. The last blow was the pinnacle. In this blow Rita had to face the wall and spread her legs as far apart as possible. She would pull against the overhead chain and stand on the very tips of her toes, lifting her underpinnings so that Karen could tan her from her navel, over her hypogastric triangle, across her vulnerable, unprotected pudenda, and terminating at her perineum. Karen rubbed the whip against Rita's sweaty vulva and over her wet armpits. The wet leather would be much more effective in inducing pain and bruising than dry cowhide. Rita tensed. Karen made a 270 degree arc with the five-pronged leather whip. The tips of the prongs cracked as they broke the sound barrier and nipped Rita's navel. The flat body of the prongs licked from navel to perineum with a tongue of fire. Rita convulsed and tried to vomit, but her stomach was empty. She shook from the fierce blow. Following the whipping, Karen would force liquid on Rita. The idea was to hydrate the girl until she was compelled to empty her bladder. Rita's ordeal was to continue for several more hours, culminating with her final punishment the next morning. Karen forced two two-liter bottles of water down Rita, who was standing with her hands high above her head, tethered by her wrists. Rita was grateful that her wrists were cuffed with leather rather than steel. The leather restraints didn't cut into her skin. The assembly viewing Rita's punishment was dismissed; the female inmates were returned to their cells and Rita was left standing. Karen left her to tend to other matters. After a while she felt the burning urge to urinate. She knew that she would have to hold her urine until she was allowed to relieve herself. While Rita was writhing in her misery, another inmate was coming down the corridor. The guard had his ward stop and kneel before Rita. Rita was ordered to relieve herself in the kneeling girl's mouth. Rita flushed crimson with embarrassment. The kneeling girl looked up hopefully. Failure to obey an order from a guard is a serious offense. Rita, whose bladder was severely distended, still had to force the urine stream. At first the girl could accommodate it, swallowing in short gulps. Then Rita's natural reflexes took over and the girl's mouth was flooded. Urine soaked her bare chest and torso. Rita was so ashamed at having wet a fellow inmate. Karen returned and took Rita to her cell. She tossed and turned on the thick wool blanket, considering the possibilities of the morning. She was bruised and discolored where the whip had struck. Her privates were tumescent and bruised as well. When the guards came, Rita felt feminine hands cruelly clamp on steel handcuffs. Then Rita felt masculine hands push her to the blanket. She was to be used. "When they have been punished like this they are so soft," one guard laughed. Rita squirmed and shivered. Her vulva was swollen and ugly. She could not position her cuffed wrists and felt the double pain of the hard thrust of a male member into her pussy lips and the twist of metal on skin. The male guard pushed his entire weight on the girl, pumping mercilessly into her vagina while rubbing her bruised back and thighs. The second male guard was equally sadistic. Rita coughed as he shoved his hard penis, spreading bruised labia. She tried to count the thrusts, hoping that somehow he would quickly ejaculate, but there was no such luck. This burly man took his time, enjoying the soft, moist vulva and feeling Rita squirm and moan with each deep thrust. At last he came, pulling his member out and squirting his sperm over her pubic triangle. She had been shorn earlier, but there was still a stubble, trapping the male semen and leaving her with a sticky, smelly mess. Rita was marched to the preparation room. She was still shaking from the brutal rape in her cell. Karen, holding a long, flexible switch, was waiting for her in the preparation room. "Mistress, please switch my pussy and my asshole," Rita begged as she entered the room. A guard removed her handcuffs and let her to the stainless steel examination table. She crawled up on her back and spread her legs, revealing her tortured underpinnings and abused privates. She pulled her pudenda apart, revealing a still pinkish clitoris, spared from the brunt of the whip by her vulva, and the pink lining of her vagina. Karen took her time in aligning the switch. Then with three sharp strikes she raised red whelps along Rita's Holy-of-Holies and comely pearl. Karen struck quickly so that Rita's intimacies wouldn't have time to retract. "Thank you, Mistress," Rita murmured. She then turned over on her belly and spread her cheeks. Her tender rosette was now unprotected, vulnerable, and available. This delicious prune was ripe for the picking! "Please switch me hard, Mistress," Rita managed to plead. Six was the count front and rear. The rule was simple: a matron was to administer six stripes for punishment and no more. This way a girl wouldn't be too seriously injured and could count her licks. The switching of her anus was the most difficult of all the punishment for Rita. Sometimes her buttocks would pinch themselves together involuntarily. Whenever this happened she would have to frantically try and separate her glorious hemispheres. Should she fail to open her cleavage and part her cheeks, the burly guards would forcefully spread her. Rita felt the cool air in the room caress her exposed rosette. Karen let the first of three strikes fall. Rita moaned. She could feel her anus twitch and tighten. Somehow she managed to keep her buttocks spread as she waited. Karen smiled, waiting for the right moment. Karen carefully plotted the trajectory in her mind. The correct angle of descent to inflict the most pain and suffering was calculated. The second stripe fell diagonally across Rita's asshole. Rita shook violently and felt her buttocks pinch together. She knew that she could not open her dark passage again. The guards would spread her. Rita closed her eyes tightly and tried to avoid the next event. Strong male hands opened her ass and exposed her butt hole. She was pulled so far apart that the inner tissue was visible. The switch made its final contact. Rita had never felt such excruciating pain before. Now, at last, her punishment was over! A lubricated female hand eased the enema nozzle to Rita. She realized that she was swollen and sore. Rita tried to relax and let the medical assistant do her duty. It took a few painful seconds for her to allow the lubricated tip to touch her. The touch of the tip of the nozzle made Rita's sphincter muscles tighten. Just as her asshole clenched, the attendant forced the nozzle completely in. The pain was unimaginable. Once inside her rectum, Rita endured the enema stoically. She knew that today, unlike yesterday, she would please her client on the Internet. Prison Days Ch. 03 Day three Roberta was a guard at the women's Internet cybersex prison. She was hoyden and tomboyish, but still had each burning desire that each girl possesses. There were plenty of burly male guards that admired Roberta. She was toned, athletic, and nimble. Roberta, or "Bobbi" as she liked to be called, was also totally bisexual. She enjoyed being detailed to indoctrinate new female inmates, especially the young ones arriving from cloistered environments. Yet no affair ever seemed to last more than a day or two. Once their head hair and bush were clipped away and they were caged, Roberta's interest slacked away. Then, one wintry Thursday, Jane arrived with in a coffle of new prisoners. Jane was a thin waif. Her big, brown, doe-like eyes mirrored a sensitive and submissive sylph. Jane was arrested, tried, and convicted along with her boyfriend on marketing and distributing drugs. As a first offense, Jane would probably have only drawn probation, or---at worst---confinement in a minimum security prison. But it had happened that one of her boyfriend's user-addicts was from a politically prominent family. He overdosed and died. The demise of a child of position demanded that justice be served to the nth degree. And it came to pass that Jane drew the maximum possible sentence and was summarily tossed in with repeat offenders and those convicted of heinous, violent crimes. She had little street savvy and no prison smarts whatsoever. The girls were released from their coffle and ordered to disrobe. The civilian clothing was put into cardboard boxes, labeled and barcoded. They each fostered the delusion that someday in the future that they would be released. It would soon become apparent that there was no exit from the female Internet cybersex prison. Bobbi went about ordering each girl to hurry and making sure that all their belongings were placed in their respective boxes. When each was finished she would stand at "parade rest." At this time Roberta would check each girl's genitals---probing deeply into their pink pussies---and ass holes. When she got to Jane she saw a shy girl blush. Jane's cunt was tight and she was unable to relax her buttocks. The girls were led away to temporary holding cells with a few exceptions. Some girls were suspected of having items concealed deep in their wombs and others were unable to submit to the anal examination. Each of these special cases would be dealt with accordingly. Bobbi took a perverse delight in handling Jane. There was a special bench set aside for just such involuntary inspections. Bobbi put on latex gloves and smeared ample KY Jelly on her hands. Two Neanderthal guards positioned Jane on the bench. Jane's gluteus maximus muscles and her sphincters were no match for the well-lubricated fingers and masculine hands. In a thrice Bobbi was exploring Jane's bowels. She noted that the girl was constipated. After she withdrew her fingers she got a glycerin suppository and inserted it as deeply as possible in the restrained girl. It would only be a matter of time before Jane would experience a bowel evacuation. Being bound on the bench, her belly down and her derriere raised, would make the evacuation a severe embarrassment to the newbie. Bobbi had counted on exactly that. Jane struggled to hold her stool while Roberta attended to other matters. At last she returned to the suffering girl, who begged to be released from the bench. "Please release me so that I may relieve myself," Jane begged. You must always speak in the third person, girl," Roberta (Bobbi) commanded. Say it this way: "May a girl be released to shit, Mistress." Jane blushed at having to use a four-letter Anglo-Saxon vulgarism. But she managed. "May a girl be released to shit?" she pleaded, her voice with some urgency. "Mistress!" Bobbi added. "May a girl be released to shit, Mistress?" Jane replied. "Only after a girl will beg a French kiss from her Mistress," Bobbi bargained. "Yes, Mistress," Jane responded. She was twitching and shuddering as she struggled to hold tight her sphincters. The stool was already pressing on her rectum, her sigmoid colon was pressing to evacuate and she was sorely pressed to retain the contents. Bobbi bent over stroked Jane's chestnut brown hair. Soon she would only have hair stubble on her head and bush. Then she gave Jane a prolonged French kiss. Then she untied her hands and cuffed them behind her back. She released her ankles and legs and helped her to a toilet basin. There was no seat, only the porcelain bowl. Jane sat, noticing that Bobbi as well as several male guards were staring at her. She suddenly was tense. "Do you have to watch me!" she uttered. "Watch your mouth, girl!" a guard cautioned. They waited and watched her suffer for a few minutes. At last nature overcame modesty and she defecated. She had some difficulty in relaxing and the elimination was messy. At last she was done and looked around. She was naked except for handcuffs. "Take her to the kennels," Bobbi instructed the male guards as she began to examine another girl. Jane looked up pleadingly with doe-like brown eyes. She was to be put in a cage without being wiped clean. There were many other odors as well from the collection of caged girls. Some exuded a stench of menstrual fluid, other urine, still others were like Jane. Each girl was miserable. After their initial processing, each girl was given a cell with a thick brown woolen blanket. The blanket was their one and only possession. In the morning Jane was taken to processing, shaved and clipped. Only her underarm hair remained. The girls in the Internet Cybersex Prison each had hirsute armpits. Often the guards would have them smell each others armpits, rubbing a nose against the smelly, wet hair. There were no niceties of civilized society in this place. As she was being processed, one of the medical attendants whispered to Jane: "Bobbi likes you. You should be sweet to her." Jane found this repulsive. She cringed at the very thought that she had actually French kissed another female. Recalling her embarrassment on intake, she quivered at what might lie ahead. Each night the girls would be exercised, fed, and returned to their cells. Most were escorted to the door, made to face inwards with their hands in the door window, and wait until the door was locked. Then, once inside behind a locked door, the handcuffs would be removed. Jane's handcuffs were left on, however. She was surprised. After sitting for about an hour on her blanket she heard a noise at the door. It was Bobbi. Clearly, if Jane wanted to spend the night wit her hands uncuffed, she would have to please Bobbi. From a kneeling position, as submissively as possible, Jane looked up hopefully with large umber eyes and pouty lips. She licked her lips and raised her small breasts up, inviting attention every way possible. She wished that somehow she could massage her privates to make them wet and inviting, but the handcuffs restrained her from that action. Bobbi came in and French kissed Jane. "Mistress," she begged, please touch me. Bobbi did exactly that. She touched Jane's breasts, starting from the base and working to the areolas and nipples. The inner infrastructure was dutifully examined: adipose tissue, milk sacs (small and empty), milk ducts, mesentery, veins, arteries, and muscles. Jane closed her eyes and imagined that she was alone with her boyfriend. She felt her vagina secreting its honey nectar. Bobbi spend a half-hour massaging and playing with Jane's teats before touching her comely pearl. Only one woman could understand each tender stroke and poke of the clitoris. Bobbi spend many minutes caressing Jane's clit, rubbing it hard, then softly, pinching it lightly then pushing it upwards. Jane's oils of submission now oozed from her vulva, which was damp with the perspiration of arousal and emanated a garlic-like pheromone of feminine carnal craving. Bobbi slid her manicured fingers into Jane's hot, wet pussy. It only took a second to find the Grafenberg Spot and to begin a rough massage. Jane responded with moans of sensuality and squeals of excitation. Bobbi continued probing and massaging Jane's vagina. She found the cervix of her womb and pressed a thumbnail into the small opening. Poking and prodding, she loosened and removed the mucus plug. Bobbi drew the mucus plug from Jane, examined it, and put it into her mouth, sucking her thumb as if she were a small child. Jane gasped. Again Bobbi rubbed Jane's vagina. Jane felt the gates of heaven open and the earth quake beneath her as she came. Bobbi also felt an orgasm of sorts. Then she warned Jane: "You must always beg to be allowed to cum, girl. To experience an orgasm without permission will subject you to punishment." "Yes, Mistress," Jane replied. When Bobbi left she removed the handcuffs from Jane's wrists. It was clear to Jane that if she didn't want to spend the night handcuffed that she would have to please Bobbi in each and every way. Clearly Bobbi would control her very sexuality and libido. Prison Days Ch. 04 Day four. Karen was removed from her duties as being a prison guard. She wasn't demoted for being unduly sadistic or cruel; she was reassigned because her satisfaction rating among Internet Cybersex clients was too low. Karen wasn't an inmate; still, she wasn't free either. Those working for the prison couldn't easily be returned to the general populace, lest they divulge the true nature of the prison itself. Karen was assigned to the development of androids; in particular, she was to be a guinea pig for the male prototype. In the prison the male androids were called "Andrew" or "Andy" while the female androids were called "Andrea." It was simple enough to program standing, walking, and serving various drinks. In fact, most rudimentary sequences were already orchestrated or choreographed. Higher-level activities were needed. Only a woman could determine the correct behavior to totally satisfy a female. Karen was billeted in a cell that closely resembled an expensive hotel room in a cosmopolitan environment. All of the usual amenities were present: soaps, shampoos, fluffy towels, a pristine, white terrycloth bathrobe, cloth slippers, a mini-bar, and assorted snacks. There was also room service, which included the bellman "Andrew" himself. Karen had a bathrobe and slippers, but no other clothing. Unlike the inmates she was allowed to keep her natural hair. In fact, she kept all of her hair, even the hair growing in places she would prefer to shave. There were lotions, shampoos, soaps, mouthwash, and a shower cap in the room. But the other items, those personal items a traveler might carry, were conspicuous in their absence. Programming the higher-level functions is no easy chore. Karen would watch classic movies and drama on the room's TV and imagine scenarios. Then "Andrew" would appear, with food and beverages, and play the required role. Still more was needed. To that end "Andrew" was to be directed by one of the cybersex inmates. It turned out that Rita was the one to be wired into the job. The way it was to work was that Rita was fully encased in a Virtual Reality (VR) outfit. Rita would simultaneously experience anything that was done to Karen. This would enable Rita to "script" Andrew the android in the best possible manner, without having to rely on subjective judgments from Karen. The idea was to create the ultimate pleasure "droid" and not merely an individual's perception of what the ultimate android should be. Rita watched from several camera positions, including a camera simulating the view from Karen's own eyes. There was the knock at the door and the strong male voice announced: "Room service!" Karen hopped to her feet, with anxious anticipation, then she carefully held back her approach to the door to avoid the appearance of being overly anxious. Rita thought that this was silly since the being at the door wasn't human in the first place. Then Karen looked through the peephole to see exactly who it was. There were also several possible alternative scenarios where an intruder might enter the room and perpetrate some action against the unsuspecting Karen. When Rita realized that Karen was the object of the simulation and that she was the test subject she felt an inner thrill. The Russians say that revenge is a dish best served cold and late. Should Rita have Andrew spank Karen then Rita would also have to endure, via the VR suit, the same spanking. Although she would have to share each slap, each pinch, and each stripe, it would even the score in many ways. Could it be more than simple coincidence that Rita's former handler would be a guinea pig in this simulation? Andrew lifted the polished sterling silver covers from the bone china plates. On the dinner plate was the usual menu. Featured at six o'clock was the roast beef, thoroughly cooked and sliced. At two o'clock were mashed potatoes with a perfect hemisphere crater filled with thick brown gravy. At ten o'clock there were green cut beans, some of which still had the stems attached. There were separate plates as well. A small salad plate had a peach half in heavy syrup. There was also a dinner roll with a pat of butter. In addition to the glass of ice water was a pot of steaming coffee. As Karen ate, Andrew poured the pungent brew, mixing in Karen's usual amount of cream and sugar. "Is the meal to my Lady's satisfaction?" Andrew inquired. Karen nodded her assent. There was no complaining, despite the institutional, military character of the food. Andrew waited patiently until Karen finished. Then he gathered up the spent tray and prepared to leave. "Does a Lady require anything else?" he asked. "Maybe you could help me adjust the TV," Karen answered. This was her come on. She would then offer suggestions and comments. Of course Andrew was aware of her intentions and fully intended to commit every lewd, lascivious, licentious, and obscene act that Karen might fantasize. Of course, Karen was not aware that the off-site voyeur was none other than Rita. Rita was once the object of Karen's severe punishment. Karen made sure that she let her bathrobe part and the image reflect on the TV screen surface. Andrew noticed and ran the subroutine for masculine arousal. Karen noticed the tumescent protuberance in Andrew's trousers. She made a few animal sounds. When he turned about his basket was full, his crotch stretched as a massive male member rose to attention. In fact, his penis was making a very high angle with his six-pack abdomen. "Let's do it, Andy!" Karen suggested. "Aren't you the naughty girl," Andrew replied. He quickly picked her up and settled her across his lap. Tossing up her bathrobe, he focused his attention on her white rump. "What are you doing, Andrew?" Karen retorted. "I'm going to spank a naughty girl," Andrew replied. "You'll do no such thing," she responded. Then the flat palm struck her carved ivory derriere with a loud slap. She screamed in pain. Rita also felt the full force of the slap in her VR suit, but it was more than worth it. Then Rita had the spanking continue for the count of six. There were rules that had to be obeyed, even in simulated environments. Afterwards Andrew took Karen to the bedroom and had her on the Queen size bed. Rita also enjoyed the virtual intercourse. But her orgasm was real; it certainly wasn't virtual. Rita's ass was sore---tomorrow it would sport a fine bruise---as would Karen's as well. There was deep inner satisfaction in being able to pay back the former sadist for her abuse. Prison Days Ch. 05 Day five. Tammi was one of the inmates assigned to clean the prison cells. There was little to do other than remove the thick brown wool blanket, spray the cell with a Lysol(tm) solution, and hose it down well. The water all found its way to the one drain hole in the floor. There were duct vents near the base and ceiling of the cell. After the cell had been hosed down, hot air was circulated to dry the interior. The smell of caged human was replaced with the odor of disinfectant. After the drying was done, Tammi would leave a clean blanket. That was the extent of the effort. Sometimes she would wipe down the overhead Plexiglas ceiling. The ceiling protected the lights and the surveillance cameras. An inmate was afforded no privacy. Tammi had been surgically altered. She had had her breasts removed as well as all her female organs: ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus, vagina, clitoris, labia, and vulva. An indwelling catheter drained her urine into a plastic bag strapped to an inner thigh. She was incapable of physical arousal or sexuality. It might seem that Tammi was also unable to have an orgasm, but this was not the case. Technology had perfected a device allowed the stimulation of brain tissue deep within the skull from totally exterior magnetic lines of force. This remarkable condition resulted from a phenomenon known as the boundary value problem in partial differential equations. By computing a transfer function and applying the correct magnetic lines of force, it was possible to induce synaptic impulses, inducing sensations, emotions, and images. Ironically, the ability to induce a powerful multi-orgasm resulted from work done by none other than the Unabomber---Theodore Jefferson Kaczynski! Tammi wasn't used often on the game grids. The clients would rather have the inside images of the girl's vagina, uterus, bladder, and bowels to see engorged and tumescent mucus membranes pulse with pleasure and flux fluids. But during peak hours---from Friday afternoon until the wee small hours of Sunday morning, it was often necessary to plug in every available girl. Tammi would then be wired into the Internet. Since she had no privates, it was necessary to do all the interfacing via a virtual reality "helmet" containing powerful magnetic transducers. During moments of magnetically induced arousal, Tammi would recall times when she was fully physiologically functional. Her crime was infanticide. The court sentenced her to be spayed. Perhaps if she had not displayed such a truculent and bellicose attitude to the justices then she might have kept her female organs. But that was not the case. Now her only sexual outlet was to be summonsed to the game grids to gratify the depraved delights of Internet Cybersex clients. The cleaning inmates were allowed to wander about without being handcuffed. They did have to wear surveillance collars that allowed the master computer to track their whereabouts. The collar could also be used to immobilize them if needs be---by either chemical or electric means. Tammi, like the other girls assigned to clean and disinfect the cells, wore ankle cuffs and a two-foot chain. This was to ensure that she was unable to run. She also wore a thick wool shift, since the outer hallways where cold and since wool kept heat even when wet. The job entailed water and wetness was unavoidable from time to time. Tammi's head was kept bald as was her hypogastric triangle. She was spared the humiliating enemas and indwelling transducers, however. The cleaning girls weren't afforded separate cells. They were housed together in a large holding tank. Most were spayed females, less valuable than those with their full array of functional organs---to spurt, drip, drool, and ooze for the entertainment of the Internet clientele. Ester was one of the medical assistants. She was in charge of preparing those unfortunates for the surgical removal of their female organs. She remembered Tammi distinctly. They began with the removal of her breasts. Tammi had no idea of what lay before her. When she awoke in the recovery room, she knew that something terrible had happened. When her head cleared from the anesthesia, she then knew that her mammary was missing. This was her first female attribute. The second surgery left her spayed and sexless. Ester had empathy for the unfortunates. They were the lowest of the inmates, billeted in a common area, collared with surveillance devices, and forced to perform the most menial of chores. She could remember Tammi after her second operation. With large green eyes she looked up and asked Ester if she had any femininity left at all. Ester told her that there was the Virtual Reality helmet. Only when she was immersed in cyberspace would she feel her true feminine body again. Ester would monitor the mental and physical health of the sexless girls. She would make sure that on each visit they spend quality time in a VR helmet, enjoying the sight and sensation of being a whole female again. The VR helmet was totally pornographic, bringing the girl into contact with her nude masculine idol from the cinema. Sights and sounds were from the small screen but smell, arousal, and the ultimate multi-orgasms were generated by powerful magnetic lines of force through the VR helmet. True, every neural sensation could be induced by the VR helmet and an adequate transfer function; however, the construction of such a complicated family of equations required more computer resources than were customarily available. The girl had to be content just to have an earth shattering, monumental multi-orgasm! Ester didn't just plug in a girl out of the goodness of her heart. She expected some "lip service" in advance. Bereft of pussy, teats, and clit, the unfortunate would have to use her remaining assets: lip, mouth, and tongue. Tammi was excellent at providing oral stimulation to the nth degree. None was a better French kisser and none had a longer tongue. Ester had arranged for the physician and surgeon who operated on Tammi to clip some of the web beneath her tongue, enabling her to reach out with greater ease. Tammi could extend her tongue almost six inches---enough to satisfy Ester in each of her three holes. Having serviced Ester well, Tammi would be treated to a session in the VR helmet. Her frail body would writhe and twist as her neural network induced wave after wave of sensory perceptions. Tammi's mind felt a reality that her body lacked. She could feel her breasts harden and her clit stand tall, albeit they were no longer physically present. Even as the extremities of an amputee can itch, so also would the missing members exude pleasure and sensation? Tammi could even feel her oils of submission ooze from her hot, pink pussy, swollen with the congested blood of arousal. Ester could demand---and receive---oral pleasures from Tammi that even a cuffed girl would deny. Tammi did not shy from kissing and licking Ester in every manner conceivable. The inmates looked down on the cleaning girls as being somehow inferior. After all, the regular inmates had standards. Ester wasn't a guard and lacked the authority and accessibility to the caged girls. She did control some VR helmets. And, for someone like Tammi---lacking any physical means of stimulation---it was either the VR helmet or a totally sexless life. Tammi, and the others, were willing to perform any act of obeisance, no matter how depraved or degrading, to once again experience the boundless joy of the female sexual climax. Sometimes Ester would enjoy having Tammi kiss her feet, licking the soles of her feet and sucking her toes. At other times, Ester would demand, and receive, a back massage from Tammi's tongue. Tammi might spend a whole hour kissing, sucking, and massaging Ester's breasts. There was no part of Ester's body that didn't demand the attention from Tammi's lips, mouth, and tongue. And Tammi was glad to be of service as well. The rewards from technology were worth it. Ester sometimes thought of having her own transfer function done and using the VR helmet herself. She had seen some of the other medical technicians doing it. Some even got "addicted" to the induced orgasms and sensory gratification of the VR helmet. Then Ester realized that there was something to be said for the real McCoy! After all, it was better to feel a real human tongue press her flesh than just a shadowy illusion induced by some magnetic field. Besides, Ester was apprehensive that she might become addicted to the VR helmet. She was no inmate and wasn't controlled. Would she be able to control herself should she fall into the spell of the mathematical marvel of the neural net transfer function? Better to be safe than sorry, she reckoned. Prison Days Ch. 06 Day six. Jerri was an inmate at the Internet Cybersex Prison. Most inmates were plugged into the game grids, via transducers, sensors, and the like for six days with one rest day. Jerri had a different work schedule. She was on-line for a day followed by one or two rest days. There were other differences between Jerri and those girls in the general prison population. For one thing, she was given a thick mat in addition to her heavy woolen blanket. For another thing, she was allowed to keep her handcuffs and cuff herself---hands in the front---before leaving the cell. There was one other item too. Before plugging into the Internet her armpits were shaved. This was a womanly touch that boosted her ego since the girls in the general prison population all had hairy, smelly underarms. It was about four in the morning, a full four hours before the shift change, when Jerri heard a sound at the door. It was not unexpected. Jerri was prepared differently from the girls in the general prison population. Sometimes she would be put on a treadmill and exercised to the point of exhaustion. Sometimes she would be put in a hot spa and dehydrated. There were endless possibilities, depending on the perverse and depraved desires of a client. Jerri got up and clamped on her handcuffs, modestly and discretely holding her hands in front of her stubbly hypogastric triangle, concealing somewhat her dark pink vulva. There were the usual three---two Neanderthal male guards and a female matron. They motioned for Jerri to join them and the four walked to the exercise room. The female matron led the way, Jerri followed with the two guards bringing up the rear. The matron briefly explained the upcoming scenario for the game grid. "Today a girl will be run until she is exhausted," the matron spoke matter-of-factly. "Water rationing is not an issue. She will be hydrated." Jerri smiled. This client simply wanted a girl exhausted from physical exertion. He was probably an action game player who won a match with his partner. It would be his partner who would have to pick up the tab. For sure, paying for someone else's benefit would minimize the cost. Some clients were sadistic and cruel, having a girl exercise to exhaustion and suffer dehydration. The prison would closely monitor to prevent heat stroke, but it wasn't always possible to prevent. This would be an easy regiment. "Set the timer for a two-hour run," the matron instructed the attendant. She then removed the handcuffs from Jerri's wrists and attached shackles to the treadmill. Jerri's handcuffs would be replaced after her exercise session. "Break her after an hour," the matron said. Jerri smiled because she knew that she would be given water and allowed to urinate after one hour. She hadn't had time before leaving her cell, but she was always careful to totally void her bladder before retiring and at least once during the night. There was a substantial penalty for wetting the treadmill. Jerri had experienced that once and had no desire to repeat the offense. Her performance on the treadmill was being recorded on magnetic media. Of course she was naked. The performance would be edited and selected clips would be run during her session on the game grid. At break time her blood pressure, pulse rate, and temperature would be taken. Jerri's body temperature was measured with a rectal thermometer. This was considered a more accurate reading and also made a better video clip for viewing by the client during his session. (Of course, the client could be female, but this wasn't often the case.) As Jerri ran on the treadmill, rivulets of sweat ran down her finely arched spine and pooled in the small of her back. From time to time a steam of perspiration would careen over her carved ivory derriere. Jerri lifted her arms slightly so that her soaking armpits would air. Her healthy female scent wasn't unpleasing to her; she had a natural salubrious fragrance. From time to time she would shake her head, as if to toss her hair. But her head was shorn bald. From the treadmill Jerri could see a cage with a girl constrained inside. It was clear that the girl had been locked up for some time. Jerri could only imagine the painful cramping in the caged girls arms and legs. She kept up her rhythm on the treadmill. Jerri was cuffed and allowed to leave the treadmill during her break. The attendant had some phone call and left the room. Jerri made a beeline for the toilet and voided her bladder. The golden stream of piss had a musky odor. She then grabbed a bottle of water and took a long draught. After she had satisfied her immediate needs, Jerri noticed the caged girl. "Are you thirsty, honey?" Jerri asked. Sometimes girls would be caged for hours without water or food. "Yes," the girl answered. "Please give me a sip, but be careful." To give a caged girl on water discipline a drink of water was a serious offense. But the attendant wasn't about at the moment. Jerri took the risk and let the caged waif take a draught from the water bottle. "Thank you, Mistress," she answered, indicating deference for the dangerous favor. Sometimes it was worth taking a chance to help out a fellow inmate. The caged girl might be in a position to return the favor some day in the future. The attendant returned after an extended absence. Because time was an issue, Jerri wouldn't be on the treadmill the whole second hour. The attendant wouldn't want her boss to know that she had left the exercise room without calling for backup. Moreover, conducting personal business during working hours was frowned upon. Jerri was going to get over this morning. Today was a lucky day. Jerri had the usual inserts: a large tube filling her large bowel, a urethral catheter, a uterine indwelling catheter, a vaginal sensor, and connectors to her labia, vulva, and clitoris. In addition, she was outfitted with a VR helmet. Unlike those girls whose face appeared on the monitor screen with their profile, Jerri was completely designated as an avatar. Powerful magnetic lines of force induced sensations deep within her brain. Jerri was distinguished from the inmates in the general prison population by having a complicated transfer function that enabled a client to interact with her mind directly. Emotions, sensations, and libidinal excitations could be induced. She could be commanded to fear or relax. The client had a level of control never imagined before the advent of the VR helmet. Unlike those poor waifs who merely experienced basic animal drives and conditioned responses from a VR helmet, Jerri was wired to the entire spectrum of human senses. The client was a game player who had defeated a female component in an action game. His victory meant that he would enjoy the total conquest of his exhausted victim: mental, physical, and sexual. Of course, the subject in the Internet Cybersex Prison would have to be physically exhausted to participate fully. And this is just exactly what was being done. Jerri became part of the 3D animation simulation in the state that her client expected. She secretly rejoiced because after this session there would certainly be one and possibly two rest days! Jerri couldn't have asked for a nicer client. He chose the smooth hands and medium-sized member for his avatar. Many players would use calloused, coarse hands and extra-large penises. Jerri had frequently found herself being manipulated more by a caveman than by a civilized human being. The well-manicured fingertips rubbed her breasts, making circular swaths. Jerri purred with contentment as she felt the tip of his tongue touch her erect nipples. The rough blade of his tongue then massaged her areolas, making them pucker and tense. This was to be her lucky day. Jerri giggled when a man's tongue poked into her navel. It was slimy and gooey. She could not escape the moment; she was also too exhausted to attempt to avoid the intrusion. From her navel, the tongue worked its way down the midline of her body to her pubic triangle. A man's chin slid down her slit, spreading it as his nose tweaked her pearl. Coming up for air, the rough blade of his tongue licked her clitoris, sending undulations of pleasure through her body. Kisses, wet and warm, covered her pussy and a tongue darted in and out of her Holy of Holies. Jerri purred and sighed. Then she felt her arms pinned and a shaft press her pudenda. She was being taken. Jerri swayed back and forth, rocking her hips to the rhythm of the shaft as it made its linear motion to-and-fro. The cadence continued, like the savage beat of African drums. Jerri could feel the sky redden and the earth tremble beneath her. Oils of submission oozed from her parted pussy lips and drooled wantonly between her soft, creamy thighs and pooled about her firm buttocks. The VR software orchestrated and choreographed a convergence of libidos. The two---client and inmate---were destined to execute simultaneous orgasms. Jerri could feel her climax at the exact same moment that her unnamed user slammed his member deep into her hot cunt. Jerri moaned and groaned and made her orgasm face. Her partner did likewise, convulsing with delight as each spasm of semen squirted deep into the well of her womanhood. They came together. After a brief respite, the scenario was repeated. Jerri could go for hours with the soft hands, the tender tongue, and the manageable member. She was the captive beast, not some enemy to be punished. There were players who insisted on whipping their quarry or binding them in painful positions. This was not the case here, much to Jerri's delight. She enjoyed nothing more than to entertain a kind gentleman.